#There /was/ an adapted Angelic for a while when Heaven first started opening up their gates to other realms

[soulsxng]

Another random headcanon for the day! This time, it's about Angelic and Demonic! (the languages)

For Angelic, it's actually not spoken as frequently in Heaven as it used to be, these days. This is partly because it's not a language that a lot of other beings are actually able to speak, which made communication difficult when Heaven began to selectively open their gates for other species and such to visit.

Instead, on top of speaking Angelic, young angels are now also taught Common-tongue much more seriously as well. It's Common-tongue that is now used more frequently overall in the realm...though it's also not odd for angels to learn even more languages on top of those two-- for the most part, these extra languages are those from the Mortal Realm, one of the nearby fae realms, or Elvish. Even Demonic isn't too rare these days, though it tends to be the angels that travel commonly that choose to learn that.

As a language though, Angelic is extremely harsh-sounding, for the most part. For a lot of beings, it can physically hurt to listen to for very long, which is another reason why it isn't really "sustainable" for them to speak it as exclusively as they used to. I think of it as like...Angelic is supposed to sound kind of unsettling. A bit like a warning, or bordering on threatening in a way? Also just very authoritative, overall.

For Demonic, on the other hand, I always think of it as being a very entrancing and alluring sort of language, made specifically for tempting others into things (like contracts, but not always), essentially. One that-- again, opposing Angelic-- is supposed to be very easy overall for other species to speak, and to listen to.

Because of how easy it is to speak and learn, Demonic is still by far the most commonly spoken language in Hell and other places, (like the realm of the reapers, Tenimus, for example) with demons and those living in Hell speaking it far more typically as their only language. Common-tongue is still the second-most spoken, though it's really close between that and fae languages.

Demonic was also based pretty heavily on Brinnelan, or the Ancient tongue (because that's what Heaven and Hell grew up speaking in Pirodet, before coming into their realm bodies as they got older). At least in sound-- their alphabets are vastly different. Angelic, on the other hand, sounds vastly different, but their alphabet is based heavily on that of the Brinnelan language!

[nadjabea]

Crowley and Aziraphale never broke up. The conversation we (believe to) see in the end is not the conversation they had.

Aziraphale and Crowley play their own game of spionage and sabotage - and talk about it while we all are watching.

Edit 10/22/23: This analysis needs to be updated because there is more evidence of the body swap and because of that some of my interpretations what they REALLY say is much more precise. Will do it soon.

My point is: Aziraphale communicated a plan in the confession scene – in the subtext. And it culminated in a full body switch.

How? They have thousands of years of practice of talking and signaling their next steps to each other in a way that would not be noticed by any bystander, even less by their respective headoffices. We have seen this in the Job minisode.

They use body language, signs and references to films, songs, everything their head offices won't understand because they lack the earthly knowledge.

Maybe Aziraphale and Crowley even had a back up plan before the Metatron entered the scene. Why I got this notion? Because after their conversation in the bar about Jane Austen, Aziraphale has adapted Crowley’s notion of Austen as a spy and the mastermind behind a bank robbery. Doesn’t this seem odd for the owner of a book shop? (There is this interesting theory of Crowley planning a heist and the turtle neck being Crowley’s “spy dress” by @justhereforthemeta

So here is my analysis/interpretation of the conversation they had.

Note: I am not a native English speaker, I am German. This might of course influence my interpretation of the conversation.

-> After he spoke to the Metatron, Aziraphale comes back to the bookshop and plays happy.

Just as Crowley starts to talk – Aziraphale knows he has to interrupt him.

Aziraphale's hands sign: Stop! First, he tries it soft, watches out of the window to indicate: "We are under supervision!" As Crowley doesnt pick it up, Aziraphale lifts his hands in front of his chest. So they are more visible. Still: Crowley does'nt get it.

Aziraphale: I have some incredibly good news. Uhm The Metatron. I don’t think he is as bad a fellow. Um. I think I might have misjudged him. (Incredibly good news! My ass! Look at my face. Do I look happy? THE METATRON!!! Be aware! He is much worse than I thought!”

While Aziraphae plays the happy and exited angel, he signs "Time out!". His smile is forced. He points into direction of heaven, looks out of the window and hopes Crowley will pick up: "SOS! We need a time out because we have to talk without heaven listening."

But Crowley is like a steam train: He is on his track to confess and does'nt get Aziraphale's distress.

Aziraphale parafrases the talk with the metatron. His body language indicates he is stressed, again and again he turns into the direction of window, his eyes are forced open. Crowley still does'nt get it.

Crowley: He said what?

Aziraphale: He said, I could appoint YOU (tumps to Crowley) to be an angel (it seems that Aziraphale's thumps point to himself). You could come back to heaven and everything. Like in the old times (the old times when we had to pretend to be apart, but in reality worked together and did each other’s work without heaven or hell noticing).

(I don’t think that Aziraphale refers to the pre-fall times because I don’t think Crowley and Aziraphale spent much time together than. Crowley was probably more a loner “minding his own business” or hang out with the wrong group, Lucifer and the gang. Aziraphale would have been much too afraid to spend time around the trouble maker angels.)

Aziraphale: Only even nicer (You know that I know that you hate nice! Come on, get it!)

As Aziraphale gets on with his “excitement” about the new job, Crowley still don’t seem to get the subtext. After Crowley tells him he said no to hell, Aziraphale escalates: He falls back to their "Kayfebe", their way to play that they are along the "party line". (For more on Kayfebe read this post of @nautilicious).

Aziraphae „But heaven. It’s the side of truth, of light, of good.“ Looks obviously into direction of the window as he plays a sharade for the metatron. (Crowley, you know that we settled for shades of grey! Get it, we are under attack! )

Crowley (still doesn’t get it): When heaven ends life here on earth it will be just as dead as if hell ended it. Tell me you said No.

Aziraphael turns his head into the direction of the window to show Crowley they are being observed.

Crowley: Tell me you said no.

Crowley starts to realise that they are in danger but still does not pick up the immediate threat from the Metatron. So he starts his confession but changes it to propose to run away. > You only need to run away if there is someone hunting you. So at least, he gets that now.

During Crowley's statement Aziraphale shakes his head. (we wil not be able to outrun heaven)

Aziraphale: Come with me. (Pause) To heaven. I’ll run it, you will be my second in command. (Crowley, follow my plan: Ill will run this command, you will be my agent in heaven.)

As a non native speaker I looked up the synonyms for “second in command”. They list “substitute”, “replacement” “sub-agent” and “agent”. Agent! Here we are with our spionage story. Jane Austen, the spy, smuggler and mastermind behind a bank robbery.

Crowley: You cant leave this bookshop. (Okay, I get what you mean. But, no, we cant be separeted! you cant leave me on my own - in (an ambessy of) heaven. - Another interpretation: It cant be you who leaves. You have to stay here. )

Aziraphale: Oh, Crowley, nothing lasts forever.

I think this is a code phrase of them. It might refer to a song which was in the charts in 1966/67:

“Nothing last forever” sung by Margaret Whiting, who was already popular in the 1940s.

These are the lyrics:

Now you're down and broken hearted

you have lost your lucky star

You are sure you have no future

You don't know how wrong you are.

Nothing lasts forever baby

Even pain and misery

All your tears will turn to laughter

Baby just you wait and see.

Nothing lasts forever...wait and see.

Now you've lost your only lover

Now your dreams are torn in two

You are sure you'll live in darkness

But the sun's gonna shine for you.

Nothing lasts forever baby

Even pain and misery

All your tears will turn to laughter

Baby just you wait and see.

Nothing lasts forever...wait and see.

Now you've got an inch to go

If you still be a mile

Now the bidder's calling you

Capture this to a smile

Now what seemed eternity

Was the sun in a while.

Nothing lasts forever baby

Even pain and misery

All your tears will turn to laughter

Baby just you wait and see.

Nothing lasts forever...wait and see.

Wait and see.

Wait and see.

Wait and see.

Nothing lasts forever baby

Even pain and misery

All your tears will turn to laughter

Baby just you wait and see.

Nothing lasts forever baby

Even pain and misery

All your tears will turn to laughter (fade)

Somehow I can imagine that Crowley liked this song and they listened to it together in the bookshop. So he knows the lyrics - and gets what Aziraphale tries to tell him.

Crowley: No. No. Don’t suppose it does.

He puts on his glasses to hide his tears but also because now he has to pretend. And he has the need to cover his eyes when he lies. You can see this in the 1941 minisode. While he watches Aziraphale perform the coin trick, Crowley led his glasses slide down his nose and you can see his eyes. But the second he starts lying to Aziraphale about him being a professional magician Crowley puts his glasses up und covers his eyes.

So Crowley starts to go along with Aziraphale's plan, plays to be reluctant - which he probably still is. He doesn’t want to go to heaven, considers Aziraphales plan probably to be a - to use the German expression - “Himmelfahrtskommando” which means literally “a squat that goes to heaven = a suicide squat) - Another interpretation: Maybe he doesnt want Aziraphale to go to heaven?

Crowley: Good luck.

Aziraphale: Crowley, come back. Work with me (I have got a plan, trust me and work with me). We can be together. Angels (you can have my body. So you will be an angel.) Doing good (saving earth and us) - I need you. – I don’t think you understand what I am offering you (Are you really that daft?)

Crowley: I understand. And I understand a whole lot better than you do. (Heaven, hell, I have been there. And it is me that has to go to heaven now. And I don’t like it. - And it's you that will go to hell instead of me. And I dont like it either)

Aziraphale: Well, than there is nothing more to say. (If you understand that I am offering you to posses my body, than do it)

Crowley: Do you hear that?

Aziraphale: I don’t hear anything. (Come on!)

Crowley: That’s the point. No nightingales (neither in heaven nor in hell).

“No nightingales” can have several meanings.

a) It's their song. The symbol of their love. There is no love in heaven, nor in hell.

b) The nightingale sings to protect clandestine love. Now they are not any longer under the protection of the night and the nightingale. Their love is laid open and we know what happened to Romeo and Juliet when the nightingale stopped singing.

c) Someone here on tumblr pointed to a novel called “No nightingales”. There is movie from 1947 that is based on this novel. In Wikipedia you can find this synopsis:

“In the 18th Century, Burlap and Kelsoe are officers in the army of Queen Anne who have recently retired and purchased a house on Berkeley Square. At a house-warming party the pair speculate how to win the war however they learn that the Duke of Marlborough has other plans that will lead to the Battle of Malplaquet. Believing the battle will end in slaughter they hatch a plan to capture Marlborough and hold him prisoner until the threat of hostilities passes. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ghosts_of_Berkeley_Square

Problem is: They are not at all competent and get killed bevor they could prevent the war. So they are cursed to be ghosts until a member of the royal family visits their house.

So could they plan the kidnapping of the Metatron or even God herself? Hold that thought! I definitly will think about that as a plot for season 3.

Crowley: You idiot. We could have been US. (Why did you have to get yourself associated with Gabriel? We could have led our own lifes, in our own bodies)

The kiss - and the body swap /posession

It is not a kiss to show they love each other, it is a kiss to mask the body possession, they exchange their essences

@doctorscienceknowsfandom has laid down already a lot of hints and signs Neil Gaiman planted in the open in the meta "Banana Fish Gorilla Shoelace with a dash of nutmeg" that Crowley and Aziraphale changed bodies.

@lonicera-caprifoliumhas some more hints.

Here are even more points that indicate: they have changed.

When the kiss ends "Aziraphale" cries und when "Crowley" leaves he touches his lips and his hands are shaking.

Several people already pointed out the face, the movement of the jaw and so on: This is Michael Sheen’s Crowley. I think the shaking and the tears are another hint that this is Crowley. Why? Until now we have only seen the hands of one of them shaking on screen: Crowley’s, in the 1941 minisode. Crowley’s hands are shaking if he is under pressure, and overwhelmed. Aziraphale on the other side seems to get nerves of steal when he has to perform (his tricks only work when it counts).

There are even more hints that they have changed their bodies:

“Crowley” is standing upright at the Bentley. He doesn’t move his body, he doesn’t move his face. Something that is so NOT Crowley, who is always in motion.

Also: Remember the first episode when Crowley and Aziraphale fought over Gabriel. Aziraphale told Crowley that he can leave when he doesn’t want to help and Crowley couldn’t contain his rage about that. He was fuming and throwing lightnings – all visible in the middle of the street, surrounded by humans (!). All because of a fight that – in retrospective – was much less threatening to their relationship and their lives.

In a script there is nothing without meaning. And I can’t discover any other meaning for the scene in which Crowley throws lightnings after a fight with Aziraphale than to show that the scene in the end was not a fight.

Hence: There is no way that the real Crowley would be that calm in the last scene. Crowley has much less control over his emotions than Aziraphale.

And even if it was Crowley at the Bentley and managed calmly to watch Aziraphale leave. He would not be able to contain himself after Aziraphale was in the lift. Once in his car (his save space) he would release his anger and pain. Crying, shouting, maybe even hitting the steering wheel, he would drive away as fast as possible screaming at an invisible Aziraphale because this might give him some relive.

But what do we see? A very contained demon.

Next evidence: The colour code of Aziraphale (yellow) and Crowley (red):

When “Aziraphale” is on screen people wear red. When “Crowley” is on screen a lot of people in yellow pass.

And even the plants in the Bentley appear to have changed to yellow. Bonus: A yellow flower blooms behind “Crowley”. Hence: It has to be Aziraphale.

So: Why would Neil Gaiman use the same trick twice?

Because it isn’t the same trick.

In S1 they changed their appearance. Aziraphale presenting as Crowley is still an angel. Therefore immune against holy water. Crowley presenting as Aziraphale is still a demon, immune against hellfire.

But this time, I think, they really posses the body of the other (wow, they really have come a long way from “What a pity you cant have my body” – “Angel, demon, probably would explode” ).

So, what does this mean? Angel and demons are from the same flock. It is impossible to distinguish them, except for the marks on their bodies. Now Aziraphale is indistinguishable able from the other demons, Crowley indistinguishable from the other angels.  

This raises the stakes when it comes to “The Second Coming”.

And this explains Crowleys worried face: He knew about the planes for Armaggedon 2.0,the destruction of earth.

The "Second Coming" is different. It is about judgement.

In the end everyone is going to be judged. The righteous will go to heaven, the other are cast away, extint. So what about an angel in the body of a demon? You see where I am heading ...

There is a lot to explore. The concept of "pretend to be good" and "properly good" and much much more. I will write about it another time.

Now I am curious: Am I delusional? Cant I just cope with the break up? What do think? Tell me you views. Let us discuss.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello lovely mods, thanks again for your miracle work on this blog. Just wondering if you have any fic recs where Crowley and Aziraphale don't meet at Eden, but sometime later. Bonus points if the rating is towards the E end of the spectrum. Thanks again, adore this blog and all your work ❤️

Hi! Please check our #different first meeting tag for more fics like this! Here are some more to add to the collection...

We'll Meet Again (don't know where, don't know when) by OfSnakesLiesandKings (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley missed their first meeting on the Wall of Eden and each had to go through 6000 human years on their own. What would happen when Aziraphale is sent to Earth for the first time since the garden, with the objective to keep an eye on Hell’s oldest agent as Armageddon approaches?

Rated for: discorporations (no graphic details), (canon typical) drinking and swearing.

sugar by Sway (E)

"We have decided,” Beelzebub says, “to punish it in a way that fits the crime.” They wave a hand and one of the demons shoves the other a step forward. “It will be given to the demon Crowley for 40 days, may he do his worst with it.”

Aziraphale likes sex. She really does. Heaven - obviously - does not so they decide to punish her under their new Redemption Policy. Forty days with a demon of Hell's choice.

Temptations Spa by Quefish (E)

Crowley is a demon who owns many businesses designed to get the humans rolling in the Seven Deadlies. Aziraphale is an angel who owns a bookshop. An advert brings Aziraphale to Temptations Spa where they meet for the first time.

The Long Way Around by redundant_angel (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley never meet in Eden and the pair go on through time believing that other is the enemy. With Armageddon quickly approaching, Crowley is sent on an important assignment: to kill the angel and retrieve the flaming sword.

Things go sideways, however, when Crowley is severely injured. As Aziraphale naively nurses the demon back to health, Crowley begins to wonder if he'll be able to go through with it after all...

The Angel Heaven Forgot (& the Demon who flipped off Hell on his way out) by ximeria (M)

Somewhere around the death of Jesus, Aziraphale started wondering if anyone paid him any attention. By 1100AD he was quite sure and by 1800 he thought 'sod it' and opened a bookstore in Soho.

This is canon divergent from the Garden of Eden. Aziraphale and Crowley do not meet and yet the End Times are still foiled (though who knows how - maybe an angel and a demon weren't all that necessary after all). Instead Aziraphale runs into Crowley and they end up striking up a friendship.

The Way Home by GiggleSnortBangDead (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley meet in 1979 while working on a film adaptation of an Ezra Fell novel. Aziraphale just had another fight with Gabriel and is looking for something casual, even if it's with a human. Crowley is not a human, but Aziraphale doesn't know that. In Crowley's defense, he also doesn't know that Aziraphale's not a human.

Aziraphale and Crowley meet again in 2019 while working on a film adaptation of the same Ezra Fell novel.

- Mod D

[one-with-the-floor]

“Angel, for fuck’s sake.”

“There’s another bedroom just down the hall, dear. You’re adaptable, I believe in you.”

Crowley groans and does his best to peek around Aziraphale’s shoulder and get a look through the slight opening in the door. Aziraphale frowns at him and pulls it shut with a click.

He’s not allowed in the master bedroom. He hasn’t been informed of why he’s not allowed in the master bedroom, but here they are, two days after moving into their new cottage, and he’s stuck out in the hall.

Changing tactics, Crowley puts on his best pout and leans sadly against Aziraphale’s side. “I miss my bed,” he says morosely.

Aziraphale lets out a bark of laughter. “You’ve never slept in that bed.”

“Yeah,” Crowley says. “I’m missing out on it.”

Aziraphale chuckles again and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Soon, darling. I’m not going to keep you out indefinitely. And the second bedroom is nice.”

“So’s the main one,” Crowley mutters. “Picked the bloody house for those south facing windows, and I don’t even get to enjoy them.”

“The windows will still be there when you’re allowed in.”

Crowley sighs, clearly unable to win this argument. He kisses Aziraphale on the cheek and heads down the hall to the other bedroom, still complaining about having gotten a cottage with a nice bedroom for him specifically as he goes.

Two nights later, Crowley decides to sneak in while Aziraphale is making dinner. He’s bloody curious, he wasn’t made for secrets and mysteries. What’s the fun if he can’t find out? So he goes upstairs under the guise of an afternoon nap, and then when he hears Aziraphale start pulling out pots and pans downstairs, creeps across the hall to the door of the master bedroom.

It does not go as planned.

“Ngk!” Crowley cries when he finds himself suddenly downstairs, the doorknob under his hand suddenly replaced by Aziraphale’s arm. “Don’t do that! Scared the life out of me!”

Aziraphale’s smile is smug. “I just wanted to see you, dear,” he says sweetly. “I heard you were up, so I thought I’d save you the trip down the stairs.”

Crowley rolls his eyes. “What the hell do you have in that room?”

“Just a few more days, dearest.”

Crowley squints at him, decides to call his bluff. “Nah,” he drawls. “Think I’ll just go up now.”

“It’s not ready yet!”

“Don’t care. Need a good night’s sleep, and I’m gonna get it in my proper bed.”

Aziraphale gives him a searching look. Crowley holds his ground, plastering a smirk on his face and exuding the energy of a saunter while standing in place.

Then Aziraphale shrugs and says “Alright,” and Crowley’s jaw drops.

“What?”

“Go ahead, go in.”

“Really?” Crowley says cautiously, looking for the catch.

“Of course. I, however, believe that I will be sleeping in the second bedroom tonight.”

Crowley nearly falls over. “You’re gonna sleep tonight?”

“I think so,” Aziraphale says, distressingly calm. “It’s been a few weeks, a rest sounds nice.”

This time Crowley’s pout is genuine. “Without me?”

“Oh, no, darling,” Aziraphale says, cupping Crowley’s jaw softly. “I’d love to have you join me.” His smile goes sugary sweet. “In the second bedroom.”

Crowley doesn’t argue past that.

It’s their sixth night in the cottage before Aziraphale finally lets Crowley into the master bedroom. He makes a quip about six days of work and dragging the angel into bed for a full day of “rest” on day seven, but Aziraphale just smiles fondly and leads him down the hall. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

“It’s…” Aziraphale starts. He suddenly looks just a little bit nervous, and Crowley squeezes his hand even though he doesn’t understand why. It earns him another smile, though, and Aziraphale squeezes back. “I hope you like it, is all.”

Crowley’s heart is going a little fast when he finally steps into the room, but it stalls out completely when he sees what Aziraphale has done with it. “Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, angel…”

When they first toured the house weeks ago, the master bedroom had been painted an inoffensive, boring beige. They had bickered happily about colors a few times, and landed on a soft blue that would glow in the morning sunlight. Aziraphale had painted it onto the walls neatly, with crisp edges and a seamless finish.

It was what he had done to the ceiling that took Crowley’s breath away. Deep, midnight blue paint covered the whole of it, and scattered precisely over it were dots of white and warm yellow, with faint lines drawn between some of them. Marking out the constellations among all of the stars.

“Angel,” Crowley says again, still breathless. “Did… heaven, did you do this all yourself?”

Aziraphale smiles, a shy pride in his voice. “By hand. You should see all the star charts I had out while I was planning it out, there was barely room to step.”

“It’s accurate?” he gasps, but as soon as he asks he can see it, the oh so familiar patterns coming into focus as he matches up the paint with the specific patch of night sky it corresponds to.

“Wait. Wait, if Libra’s there, that means…” He drops Aziraphale’s hand to rush to the bed against the northern wall, stepping up onto it in one stride and staring at the pair of dots just above the bed, bigger than most of the others.

“I thought it seemed appropriate,” Aziraphale says, coming up behind him. “You wanted us to find a home on Alpha Centauri, once. Now that we’ve got one, I thought it would be nice to bring Alpha Centauri to us.” When Crowley doesn’t respond, Aziraphale reaches for his hand again. “Darling? Are you alright?”

Crowley nods, and then nods again more forcefully before turning around to jump off the bed and into Aziraphale’s embrace so he can hide his damp eyes in his husband’s neck. “I love you.”

Aziraphale squeezes him tight and leans up to kiss his temple. “I love you too, my dear. I’m glad you like it.”

“Love it. Adore you.” He pulls back to kiss Aziraphale soundly, then grins against his lips wickedly. “Come on, angel. Got a week’s worth of bed enjoyment to make up for.”

Aziraphale laughs, and happily lets himself be led to the bed, where they can lie together under the stars—their stars—for as long as they wish.

[folkloreguk]

an angel for a demon (3)

A/N: Here's the last part of this small series! You don't necessarily need to read all of them to understand this one, but it does probably make more sense if you do. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated! Have a good day x

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), demon!bias, angel!reader, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), reader gives her first bj

words: ~ 6.7 k

PART1 (M)

PART2 (M)

“I’m going out to pick up some food and stuff, do you want to come along?” you heard him ask. You had your legs up against the wall, your back on the bed, and a magazine in your hands. The women on the pages had you gushing, on the verge of hypnotization. You swore if you looked at those infatuating pictures one minute longer, you’d be swallowed whole by them.

When you had worked your way through some science books and were still hungry for more to read, H/N had brought you some magazines, mostly about fashion but also gossip and lifestyle tips. Turns out letting a clueless angel read about what’s supposed to be good for women was not a smart idea. Up in the clouds, from where you used to watch earth’s women, they had all looked equal to you – beautiful, intelligent, and capable. Now, down in the reality of it all, things appeared much more complicated. Which angel could have known it took diets, workout routines, anti-aging creams and the perfect outfit for your body type to be viewed the same way you had always looked at women from above? And most importantly, how did any woman manage to uphold all these expectations the magazines named? It was all too much and seemingly impossible. Abruptly, you were pulled out of your train of thoughts.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” he asked, peaking his head through the door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, putting down the magazine on your chest. “No, I’d like to stay here.”

“Alright,” he said, “Would you like me to bring you anything from the store?”

He walked over to you and sat on the bed. His hands softly brushed over your hair, down your cheek and neck, barely touching your collarbones. He was in his black, intimidating clothes, per usual, but his eyes held nothing but fondness for you.

“Actually, maybe there is something,” you said. “Look.”

You picked up the magazine and pointed at the page.

“Can you buy me a dress like this one? They say it would fit me best. And could you get some makeup for me? I don’t know much about it, but maybe you-“ you said. Usually, he was one to listen carefully to every of your words, as if you were the most interesting person he had ever met. This time, he interrupted you.

“Stop. Where is this coming from?” he asked. “I want you to forget all those things you’ve read in those magazines, okay?”

You were confused, thinking you were learning by reading those articles. Gently, he caressed your face. “You know I’ll buy you anything in the world, right? But only if that’s what youwant. Everything they tell you to do, everything they tell you to buy, it’s brainwashing. You will wear whatever dress you find pretty, and if you want to wear makeup, that’s fine. But you will only do those things if you want to do them, okay? There’s nothing you need to change about yourself.”

“But they say you need to start early to get a nice body, and to prevent aging,” you said. “They say men will admire me.”

“We’re immortal, my angel,” he said. “And even if we weren’t, what’s wrong with growing old? Wouldn’t you want the traces of your experiences to be visible on your skin? Those companies, they all just want your money and so they try to scare you into believing you’re not good enough. But truth is, you always are. All those times people tug on their skin in front of a mirror, or whenever they break a sweat trying to lose weight, or when they compare themselves to those who look different from them – they’re already good enough. They’re perfect. This worlds wants you to never be at peace with who you are. But you need to promise me you won’t succumb to those nonsensical tactics to make you hate yourself. And don’t you ever wait for a man to give you approval. That’s your job and your job only.”

You listened, wide-eyed and intrigued. No magazine could ever speak so honestly, and you believed every word he said. After all, you trusted him much more than some random author of an article that was trying to sell you the latest weight loss-magic-powder.

“Okay, I promise.” You sat up and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’ve never even really thought about it, but I think I’m pretty.”

“Not thinking about it might just be the best way to go about it in this world,” he said, and placed a kiss on your forehead. The feeling of warmth lingered on your skin seconds after he had already pulled away.

“I change my mind, then,” you said, “Do you think you can get me a dress like this?”

You showed him a different picture this time. It showed a lot more skin than the one you had pointed out before. You only realized this when he was already smirking at your choice.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “That’s an interesting option, angel.”

“Hey! I just like the color, alright?” you defended yourself, making him chuckle. Over the course of four weeks, you had come to know his insinuations and his little jokes better. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the incredible sensation his eyes on you gave you. When he goggled at you because you had decided to wear his shirt for a day, or the way he watched you welcome him with open arms when he came home.

You now understood that certain words or actions, or even just an article of clothing – or lack thereof – could conjure an insatiable hunger in his eyes. At first, it was a little scary, having a demon stare you down as if he wanted to eat you up. But now that you knew what his hands felt like on your skin, and that his lips were made for much gentler actions than to hurt you, you wanted nothing more than to coax the starving demon into playing with you, any chance you got. And perhaps that dress in the catalogue would do just that, and not only bring you joy. It was a win-win, really.

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” he said. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I always do,” you said.

“I’ll give you all the missed attention when I get home, alright?” he said, bending down to your ear. “You can have whatever you want, then.”

To be honest, half of the time you didn’t know what you wanted him to do. But with every time his hands explored your body you learned more. There were so many things humans did to make each other feel good, you doubted you’d ever be able to try everything. His promise made you wish he was already back home when he had barely stepped out of the door. One last grin and nod and he left you alone.

What did angels do on a Saturday noon? Usually, you’d be patrolling your village, entertaining yourself by watching children play tag, admiring lovers walking hand in hand or discovering a family that had just adopted a small animal. Their human eyes shined when they felt happiness, and it was infectious to you. You wanted to send your blessing to all of them, make sure they never felt anything but delight, but you knew that wasn’t how business worked down there. Some things were even out of your control. Now, on earth, you were ready to take whichever hardships were to come if it meant you could have been with your demon lover.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You had only gotten up an hour ago. Last night, you had been kept awake for long. He was untiring when he was between your legs. You had learned that he didn’t need nearly as much sleep as you did, and when he set his mind to making you come by his administrations, he didn’t waver to do so. But losing sleep in exchange for pleasure was okay with you. Time became meaningless, either way, when you had your face buried in a pillow, tears threatening to spill over from how good he made you feel. Sometimes he made you come while sitting in his lap, then you’d cling to him like a baby and muffle your whimpers by pressing your lips against the skin of his shoulder. He loved telling you ‘Look at me’ right when you were falling. It was hard to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head or not to collapse in his arms, but for him you would try your best. Often you found your thoughts lingering on the memory of his gaze when you came apart under his touch. It had something of fascination and protectiveness, and you’d never get enough of it.

Great, now you wanted him again. And he wasn’t here. How had you gotten this way? On occasion you wondered if one of the other angels had already spotted you and the sins you were committing. You wouldn’t call them sins now, or ever again. It wasn’t like you wanted to adapt to a demon lifestyle. But you felt at home for the first time, here on earth. It was the perfect grey zone between heaven and hell.

As an attempt to appease your needy mind, you picked up your magazine again. Just because you shouldn’t believe everything they said didn’t mean you shouldn’t have read it at all, right? You flipped through articles on fitness and the newest fashion, but after skimming the pages for only a few seconds, you were done with those tips. He wanted you because of who you were – an angel – and you doubted than any beauty routine could make him more obsessed with you than he already was. But then you read something most curious to your angel eyes. ‘How to make him feel best – tips from a porn star’ the title said. Whatever in the heaven a porn star was, they seemed to be some sort of expert on pleasuring men, and you, always eager to learn something new, were intrigued from the very first word.

But soon you had to admit, you weren’t at all sure what they were referring to with those words and actions. When you and your demon boyfriend had sex, he usually did most of the work, while you took whatever teasing or pleasure he inflicted on you. He had said he liked it this way, but now you weren’t so sure. Or was this ‘10 things to do become a blowjob-pro’ – list just another attempt of society to brainwash women? You weren’t one to initiate talk about sexual stuff, but maybe you’d try to question him on the meaning of what you had read.

You flipped another page and finally you had arrived at a page you could work with. It was a bunch of comfort food recipes. Right away you fell in love with the picture of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the top right corner. H/N had promised you to teach you how to cook, but so far you hadn’t made much progress. The difficulty level read beginner, and five minutes later you stood in the kitchen. With some music in the background your enthusiasm only sparked more. Baking was new and came with slight overwhelmingness and the stress of making sure you weren’t forgetting to add any ingredient. But the Christmassy scent of cinnamon and the feeling of making something from scratch made you happy, and with rapt attention you finished your first completed recipe ever.

You wiped some flour off your forehead. Hopefully H/N would like the cinnamon rolls too, because as tasty you found your creation, there was no way you were able to devour them all by yourself. As if on cue, you suddenly heard the key slide into the lock of the front door. Probably prompted by the heavenly scent, he called your name.

“Here,” you answered, mouth full of a bite of cinnamon roll. When he walked in, he already had his famous smirk on his face. It was your favorite. You knew it was reserved only for you.

“What did you make?” he asked. But he had his answer when he saw the baked goods in front of you. He set down the bags and put his arms on your waist from behind. With a hum, you lifted the cinnamon roll to his lips, and he took a bite. He almost moaned at the taste and you grinned.

“Do you like them?” you asked, already knowing the answer but still awaiting more praise. You squealed a little at how quickly he spun you around. His nose touched yours and your heartbeat raced.

“It’s like they came with you straight from heaven,” he said. “Hmm…I missed my angel.”

His lips when he kissed you tasted like sugar and spice and you melted straight into his touch. You only noticed he had run his finger over the gooey leftover icing when it was already too late. He was a demon after all. And if demons were good at one thing, it was causing mischief.

“Hey,” you protested at his hands on your neck. Then your reaction quickly altered as his finger slid lower, down to your collar bones and to where your low-cut shirt started. “Great, now I’m all sticky.”

You didn’t understand at first that messing with you wasn’t his full intention. But he tilted his head to the side and ran his hot tongue over the icing on your skin, and you gasped suddenly. This wasn’t just a joke. He wanted you. He made a humming noise, as if the sweetness combined with your own taste were only complimenting each other. When he pulled down the neckline of your shirt a little, so he could have every last drop of the sugary substance on your skin, you couldn’t help but whimper. You wanted so desperately for him to do it again, that you thought about sticking your own fingers into the bowl of icing and smearing it on your chest. His eyes were playful when he looked up at your reaction.

“Oh no. If you’re all sticky I guess you’ll need a shower, will you?” he said, “What a coincidence. I was thinking of taking one, just now.”

You had never taken a shower with him, or anyone, for that matter. But you had a feeling that the both of you wouldn’t be keeping to yourself, standing naked in front of each other. You didn’t mind. And you guessed your approval was written on your face, because he pulled you in and kissed you hard. Again, you remembered the article you had read. Was now a good time to ask him about it?

While you were contemplating, his tongue slid over your bottom lip and met yours. You had been too shy to ask before, but now you were speechless. Gently, he grabbed your hand and led you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. You were a mess of lips and tongues and hands and feet stumbling over each other. Every few meters you stopped to push yourself close against him. It was like a game of who could go without kissing each other for longer. And you were both lousy at it.

He loved pushing you up against the wall, trapping you between his arms on each side of your head. This way, he could brush up against your shaking body and you had nowhere left to go. Needless to say, you had no intentions of getting away, no matter what. He knocked the breath out of your lungs, and you kissed him back like you could breathe him in instead. As if he had become your new source of oxygen, or whatever it was you really needed to survive. It these moments, air seemed like a subsidiary matter. So long as you had his hot tongue licking down your neck and his busy hands on your ass under your dress, nothing else truly mattered.

Your kisses were open-mouthed and far more confident than they had been only weeks ago. You now knew how much he liked when you grabbed his hair tightly, or when you whispered his name against his devouring lips, as if it was the only word you had ever been taught. Like it was the only word you ever wanted to know. Before you had even made it to the bathroom, half of your clothes were scattered somewhere along the way.

“I can’t believe I just had you yesterday and here I am already missing you this much again,” he mumbled against your earlobe, teeth playing with your soft skin. “You really are otherworldly. There’s no other explanation.”

His words made you feel proud. The pleasure was one thing you had come to love quickly, but then you noticed the power you could have over him, by merely existing. It was almost unbelievable, but there he was, hard and needing you, day by day. Again, your mind wandered off to the magazine article.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice must had been different from your usual timid tone when you were in the middle of something unholy.

“Anything, angel,” he said. He let his lips linger on your cheek, half an inch from your mouth, and your stomach twisted in how badly you wanted him to sip on your lips like he was starving.

“Do you like always doing everything when we- ,“ you said. He gave you a puzzled expression, so you tried to explain yourself better. “I mean, if you ever want me to do more, you can ask me to. I don’t know everything yet, but I can learn.”

You weren’t even sure if you understood what the heaven you had just stammered. His look reminded you of the one he had when you asked him to buy him the dress and the makeup that morning.

“I love what we have, little angel,” he said, “What’s making you think you need to do anything differently?”

How were you supposed to explain what you had read when you hadn’t even properly grasped it yourself? You opted for taking his hand and walking him to the bedroom. There the magazine still lay, like an ancient cursed book you weren’t sure you wanted to know front to back. You picked it up and quickly handed him the article. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you opted to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

His lips curled into a devilish grin upon eyeing the page, and you thought the ground might swallow you whole. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all and spared yourself the embarrassment. But at the same time, you were eager to know.

“I thought I told you, magazines are just trying to make you doubt yourself,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I know, but if there’s anything I can do to make you feel as good as you make me feel, I want to do it,” you confessed. He bent down, cupping your face.

“No one’s ever felt as good to me as you have, angel,” he said, “You’re heaven to me. Do you understand that?”

With your mouth squished together slightly, you nodded your head that was in his hands.

“By the devil, you’re so adorable,” he said. “If you really want to know, though, I’ll show you.”

Even more eagerly, you nodded again. He chuckled. You couldn’t handle how handsome he was – all messy hair, bare chest and black eyes that made you dream of the most unholy things possible.

“You remember how I kiss you…down there?” he asked. You hummed, cheeks on fire. “And how I’ve asked you to put your hands on my cock before?”

You did. But it had been brief, only a few pumps and small touches, until he had become too needy. You had been whining so deliciously for him to fuck you and so he had to have you on the spot.

“In the way you touched me then…you could use your mouth on me. Make me come with your perfect lips and sweet hands,” he said. “If that’s what you want, too.”

“I do!” you said with enthusiasm that only an angel at the feasibility of making someone’s day could bring on. “Let’s postpone that shower.”

The pride in his eyes lasted for approximately two seconds before the raw hunger replaced it. He climbed onto the bed and pat his thighs. On command, you settled on his lap. The simple feeling of his bulge under your center, even if interrupted by some fabric, made your head dizzy and your stomach drop. You kneaded your hands, not sure where to touch him first. But just as he always did to you, you had the impulse to start by his head and go lower from there. Although you were on top of him, he looked amused at your shy eyes.

“Can I kiss your neck, like you always kiss mine?” you asked.

“Be my guest,” he said, grinning like he had just won the lottery. Your lips met his skin and you used your tongue the way you had felt him do it. His scent was intoxicating. It made the empty bedsheets you breathed in sometimes, when he left in the middle of the night for his demon antics, seem like nothing. You used your hands to stabilize yourself as you moved lower. The hiss he let out when you felt up on his abs and waistline almost scared you. Then you realized it was a good sign. Only for the blink of an eye you dared to graze your teeth on his skin. His reaction was immediate.

“Shit,” he cussed, “That’s my angel.”

So, he liked that. You couldn’t wait to tease him by biting him in the future. Provoking a demon would have sounded like something close to a death wish to you, had you thought about it months ago. Now, with a demon as tame as they come beneath you, the thought only excited you. As he liked to do, you touched him through his boxers while you continued your journey down his chest and stomach. The guttural moan he released made your head spin and you never wanted him to be quiet. Usually, you weren’t in a mind state to notice his groans, or your own noises were covering his.

“You’re doing so good, little angel,” he said, short of breath. Once again, your effect on him surprised you. Where was the intimidating, big bad demon you had been taunted by?

“I’m gonna fuck you so well for this,” he said, “Even the angels in heaven will hear you scream. Wouldn’t you like that?”

There he was. You pressed your legs together at the simple mention of him inside of you, but if he thought you were going to answer, he’d be waiting endlessly. You still had enough respect for your angels not to think of them in this moment. Nonetheless you hummed weakly. When you got to his hipbone, you hesitated. You drowned out your doubts by kissing him there, while you contemplated what to do next. Your hand was still wrapped around his clothed cock. It was rock hard, and a wet spot had formed on the fabric from how much he needed you. When your touch became softer, and you pulled your hands away slowly, he lifted his hips, not wanting you to stop. You supposed this was the part where you took off his boxers. At least he didn’t complain when you pulled them off his legs, so you assumed you were still on the right track.

Watching his face for signs of approval, your hand wrapped around his length. He almost seemed electrified at your touch. His jaw dropped slightly, and his hooded eyes somehow appeared even darker than usual.

“Just like that,” he said, “And now move your hand up and down.”

So you did. As you regarded your hand around his shaft, all you could think about was how it used to be. How did your hands, that were usually folded neatly in your lap while you looked down on earth, end up doing such ungodly things? And how come you didn’t even for a second feel guilty?

“Angel, you’re so good to me,” he moaned. Angel. That’s what he loved to emphasize. But was that what you were, still? Maybe you would simply stop putting yourself in a box. Perhaps you were just you, doing what you felt was right and would make you happy. And right now, having a demon clench his fists in your hair and saying your name in that tone, you couldn’t think of a lot of incidents that had made you happier. Was this the part where you should use your mouth? You weren’t sure, but your eyes jumped from his cock to his face and it caught his eyes.

“You can take me in your mouth if you want. If you ever feel like stopping, just do so,” he encouraged you, “But remember, no teeth there, okay?”

You grinned and nodded. You parted your lips and your tongue placed kitten licks on the underside of his member. When you reached the top, you took him between your lips, mirroring the motion of your hands around him. You were surprised at how comfortable you were, when ten minutes ago you were ready to personally descend to hell from embarrassment. There was something enticing about the power you possessed in that moment. You understood humans just a little better, once again. Knowing that the way he bucked his hips and his groans were caused by you and only you had you smiling inwardly. It was a way you had never caught yourself smile before. You felt brave, and like you could do anything, with a demon so at your pity.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out where he was most sensitive. Whenever you pressed your tongue against the tip of his cock, he let out a sigh. It was almost like relief, as if he had been waiting for you all his life. And now here you were, granting him all his wishes. You bobbed your head, but kept your attention on his sweet spot, his moans just too delightful not to evoke them on purpose.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he said. Often, you looked up at him. His lids fluttered from the pleasure, but he seemed to like it when you made eye contact. For a moment, you lifted your head, needing some air. Gently, he caressed your face, like you were made of precious porcelain.

“Which one of my dreams did you escape from, little angel?” he asked. You smiled sheepishly, lowering your head. Again, you wrapped your lips around his length. You wondered what he was thinking about. Was his mind as free from any worries as yours whenever he fucked you? Was he able to form any coherent thoughts or was his brain going into the same mental blackout you always experienced?

You continued the way you had, sucking the tip of his cock while your hand pumped him. From time to time, you took a breather and pulled away. Little did you know what you were doing to him. With the short intervals of your lips on him and the pauses in between, you unknowingly made everything more intense for him. It was a dangerous game of edging him you were playing, and you were outright unaware of it.

But why would he have complained? In that moment, you were his personal guardian angel, making sure all his needs were fulfilled. When he saw your lips, all red and puffy, he asked himself where you had been hiding all this time. You peeked up at him through your angel eyes and he felt his entire world become whole in front of him. He was completely and absolutely at your mercy, inebriated by your entire being. Never in his long time on earth had he seen someone so ravishingly beautiful, yet so unaware of their might. He swore to himself in that moment, he’d do anything to make you love him forever.

As divinely as you were treating him, he suddenly wanted you in a different way. And if you continued your sweet actions, he wasn’t sure if that would still be possible. He gently cupped your head, making you look up. You hummed in question.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, “Let me give back to you, won’t you? Does my angel want some attention, too?”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t practically touch-starved at this moment. And having been taught to always be truthful, you nodded before you even knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes?”

When you got up to slip out of your dress, your legs were weak. You hadn’t even done anything, and yet your body felt heavy. All you wanted was to go back to him and have him so close, it felt like he could have been a part of you. As much as you had felt on top of the world minutes ago, his hungry eyes made you shrink inwardly. But it wasn’t out of fear. It was almost admiration, or rather anticipation. You knew he knew your body inside out, and you couldn’t wait for him to prove it to you.

“Come here, angel,” he said. You climbed back onto the bed. “Turn around for me, okay?”

You were on your knees, sitting up right, facing the headboard. His breath on your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. Then his hands snaked around your body from behind you. A small whimper left your lips when he ran them down your chest, fingers drawing small shapes on your breasts. They continued their way down your stomach and to your parted thighs. The cold air was hitting your dripping core, and had you not had enough self-control, you would have moaned at the mere sensation of his fingertips on the inside of your thigh. But maybe that was just what he was waiting for. After all, he was still taking his time with you. But in this instance, you knew what you wanted, and more importantly when you wanted it.

“Please,” you said. You weren’t sure what to say but starting with a ‘please’ was never a mistake.

“Please what?” he asked. You couldn’t see his face, yet you knew his devilish grin that must’ve been plastered on his face. He never missed a chance to make you shy. “Is this what you want?”

He slid two of his fingers down your slit slowly. It would forever be a mystery to you, how such a simple touch could put you in such a mental state of disarray. You whined at how needy you were, fighting the urge to press your legs together. In a second, his fingers were coated in your juices. When he pressed them against your opening, but didn’t push any further, your head spun with frustration. An impulse yelled at you to grab his hand and show him how you wanted him, but you sensed there was a specific aim in his teasing. Above that, you weren’t close to that brave. Purposely lightly, he rubbed circles onto your clit. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and your breaths came out in little, desperate noises.

Before meeting him, you never knew this sort of inability to control your body. Having power over your motions was an obviousness to you. But as with so many things in life, you had been wrong. Or rather, you had not known better. Now, with his lips brushing over the side of your exposed neck, you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted to do to you. If there was a noise or reaction he wanted to coax out of you, he could do so. And if evoking your little melodic whimper was his aim, he was on the right path, fingers teasing your pussy and flicking over your clit. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. In fact, he had a head so full of ideas of things you could do together, you doubted you’d ever start to get bored here.

“I want you…inside of me,” you said, surprising yourself. This was your desperate body taking control of your motor speech center, that little region in your brain that allowed you to let out what you wanted to say. Your cheeks were hot for only a moment, then you realized if it got you what you wanted so badly, speaking your mind was probably a fantastic idea. You should really do it more in the future, you thought.

“What my angel wants, my angel gets,” he said. Just for a few seconds, he moved his fingers much faster. You yelped at the sudden pleasure, your hand wrapping around his wrist. His other hand reached for your hand, softly taking it away as you became a whimpering puddle in his arms. You were ready to fall, give in to the pleasure and let go. It was what you so desperately wanted. But as quickly as it had begun, he removed his hands. His attention was gone, and you were left yearning for more.

“Lift your hips,” he said, softly touching your sides. A part of you wanted to cry out, hold him responsible for denying you your sweet release. But you knew it would be no use, and he would tell you to wait either way. You were still on your knees, but straightened up, arms hanging by your sides, waiting for his touch. He was right behind you, his upper body against yours. When you felt his cock run over your slick folds, you sighed at the awaited sensation. The stretch when he filled you up felt so perfect, so out of this world, you reached for his hand to hold on to.

“Why didn’t you ask me earlier if you wanted me so bad?” he asked. He squeezed your hand as his other pulled you flush against his back while he pushed himself further into you. He’d thrust against you for a while, only to pull out completely, and repeat the whole process. It was sending you into complete overdrive.

“Because I wanted to make you feel good,” you said. “Only you, for once.”

You moaned when he snapped his hips against your ass, picking up the pace. In an attempt to support your jittery legs, you grabbed the headboard in front of you. Your breathing came out in short huffs, uneven and a little shaky.

“You’re so sweet and selfless…my patient angel,” he said, his fingers coming in contact with your clit again. His touch was an allure to you, and you wished you could have stayed this way forever. No thoughts, just his body and his dark voice to sedate your mind. “I’ll give you anything you want. You know that, right?”

You hummed and nodded. “Yes. And I’ll do the same for you.” Your words were interrupted by your small whimpers. There had been a time you didn’t know what it felt like, when you didn’t even know there was a such thing of having someone inside of you. Now you couldn’t get enough of him. You were already so sensitive that every time he quickened his thrusts and moved his fingers on you slightly faster, he had you hanging right over the edge. And he could tell by the way you held your breath when you were close. He didn’t want you going there just yet.

“As much as I love your mouth around my dick, this is my favorite way of having you,” he said. He used both of his hands to dig into your sides, pulling your hips closer to him every time he dragged his cock through your walls. You agreed. Should any of your angels ever catch wind of this, they would ban you to earth – or worse, send you to hell. So be it, you thought. You’d be like your lover. One of the creatures of the darkness, thought to be the personification of sin. Even if they ripped your angel title from you, they could never steal away what you had now.

Yes, you were meddling with a demon, but also having the time of your life. It was vastly better than spending your days judging humans for being themselves and for humans living the true way they want to live, instead of abstaining from the simple pleasures of life. Their true colors shown, they weren’t harming anybody, but rather making the world a more acceptable and open-minded place. You aspired to be like them.

“This is my kind of heaven,” he said. It’s what he always called you. Heaven. He groaned when you clenched your walls around him, your inevitable high drawing closer.

“This is my new heaven…you are,” you replied. He chuckled darkly, probably relishing in your confession. The thought that he could make an angel reject the very place they should have belonged filled him with a sense of superiority.

“Look how well you’re taking me,” he said. His hand wrapped around your body, pulling you tighter. He slipped his hand between your legs again, and you almost felt like collapsing, had he not held on to you. On instinct, you closed your eyes and let the feeling crash over you.

“Let me see you come, little angel,” he spoke in your ear, just for you to hear. You would do anything for him. You quivered and buckled at the severity of the feeling, but he had you. Your moans were high and dragged out, as his digits pressed harder onto the sensitive nub on your center.

“Take just a little more for me, can you?” he asked. You obliged willingly, nodding your head while it was still full of nothingness. Even as he kept fucking you, it was pure bliss for another while. It made your legs shake a little, but you felt so safe there, in his embrace, the sensitivity was alright to handle. You could tell by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming that he was almost there, too. He was pressing you against his chest as if you were all he ever wanted. His moans sounded like home to you as he came. He said your name and bent forward, reaching for the headboard, but you both tumbled into the bedsheets together instead. You giggled at your shared clumsiness and you could feel his chest move from laughing as he was lying on top of your back.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said, “You’re amazing.”

You turned your head and his lips brushed along your temple, kissing you softly. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes so you could look at him. Seeing his beautiful face had you falling into an even deeper state of serenity.

“I want to cuddle,” he said, and it was probably the sweetest thing you had ever heard a demon say. As he rolled off you, you followed his movements and settled in his embrace. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, but neither of you cared enough to get up just yet.

“I love what you’ve done to me,” you said.

“What is it I have I done to you?” he asked, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your bare hips.

“You changed me. But not in a bad way. You let me be who I want to be and showed me that that’s okay,” you said, “You made me understand. Some sins aren’t that sinful at all.”

[ckneal]

So, there’s this one angel story in the back of my head that I know I wont write. I wont write it, because it’s utter nonsense, with very little regard for the canonical timeline of Supernatural, and a willfully blurry view on what is and is not “in character.” It’s fluff. It’s all fluff, in the form of a bunch of smaller stories that gradually weave together, following the Love, Actually style of storytelling, but instead of problematic love stories, it’s all about angels playing hooky from Heaven after the Fall.

(Seriously, there is no substance here, I swear.)

Stories include Abner, living out the first half of the movie Family Man, struggling to figure out how to be a good father and house husband after he steps into the life of the raging alcoholic who agreed to be his vessel. There’s also a very minor story about Esther (not to be confused with Hester, who is not in this story because she never deserted her post in Heaven) learning to play the part of a little girl and navigating schoolyard politics, but kids can be mean and Esther learns the hard way that Michael’s approach to asserting dominance in Heaven does not translate well. There’s also Daniel and Adina, who both settle into vessels in the same movie theater where a romantic comedy is playing, and fall into a very innocent, play-acting sort of love after they leave the theatre—like little kids pretending to be in love, recreating the scenes from the movie, but at the same time not really understanding it. Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael each trying to roll with the luxurious high roller life style, and awkwardly running into each other at VIP poker games, exclusive spas and clubs, and the occasional orgy that they promptly leave IMMEDATELY after running into a sibling (don’t give me weird looks, Balthazar and Gabriel canonically include that sort of thing in their definition of luxury, and the whole thing of their story is their siblings keep cramping their style). Tyrus is in there bowling, somewhere. Benjamin’s playing arcade games with his wife. And then there’s Thaddeus, my pet favorite minor angel character, realizing what’s happening as he’s falling with all the other faithful angels during the Fall and seizing the opportunity to abandon his life as a guard and torturer, settling into a pop star for his vessel—initially for the sake of the cushy lifestyle, but then gradually looking back, before the garden and Lucifer, before everyone was assigned a job in Heaven, like it or not, and the options were to adapt or to be smote, and remembering that back then, he could sing.

And of course, Michael and Adam get a story too—in which Michael lowkey gets into a pissing contest with death, as he and Adam travel the world, hitting up hospital after hospital to heal people. Because the first thing Adam wanted to do after getting out of the cage (okay, second thing—burgers came first) was go to the nearest medical center and start healing people left and right. And at first, they’re having a great time. Adam steals a white jacket he finds in the breakroom somewhere, and anytime someone says he looks a little young to be a doctor (Adam still looking nineteen years old, because I say so), Michael wipes the poor sap’s mind. But eventually—sometime after they’ve cleared out the children’s ward, the cancer ward, the cardiac ward—Billie shows up, sniping at them that they can’t just go around healing people who are destined to die, because there is an order to life and death that cannot be shoved aside. And Billie tries to make a show of it, as Terra did with Dean, by having several people who Adam had healed over the course of the day inadvertently cause several massive accidents. The news suddenly comes pouring out of the television, channels flipping as newscasters talk about tragedies occurring in several different parts of the city they’re currently in. The sound of approaching ambulance sirens fills the air, as in the hospital hallway, doctors and nurses begin hurrying to receive a rush of ER patients.

Adam’s horrified.

Michael does not take kindly to this. He snaps his fingers and makes it so that the carnage has never happened. Because he is the archangel Michael, only two steps away from being a god, and if he says that all of these people are going to live, then they are going to live, and he WILL NOT be intimidated, especially by an amateur reaper whose only qualification for her position was dying at the right time.

Billie in turn lands Michael with a cold stare, and points out that the order to life and death is beyond even God’s authority, let alone daddy’s blunt, sniveling instrument.

As Michael’s eyes start to glow, Adam steps in and says, “So, to be clear, you want us to stop healing people on the verge of death? We can do that.”

After Billie leaves, Michael is outraged, but Adam says, “No, Michael, THINK about it.”

We then cut to other stories, where newscasts in the background reveal that ailments that are not IMMIEDATELY fatal (AIDs, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, etc.) are mysteriously disappearing overnight, worldwide.

Billie is not amused, and tells her reapers to be on the lookout for an archangel at every major hospital in the world.

Cut to Michael throwing open the door of the bunker, muttering aloud to Adam that he’s going to do it, he’s going to bind Death, just like Lucifer did—how hard can it be? Sam and Dean see him as he goes stomping off toward the cabinet where they keep all of their magical dry goods, but Michael snaps his fingers and the two of them are abruptly half drunk in Dean’s man cave, sitting in front of Dean’s flat screen TV, watching some campy monster movie, because that’s lowkey what Michael and Adam assume they do all day.

As they’re raiding Sam and Dean’s supplies though, Adam says, “Wait, I have an idea.”

Cut to Abner looking up while pushing his vessel’s daughter in a park swing, and literally seeing Michael and Adam chasing an ambulance, so they can technically heal the person inside before reaching the hospital.

Yes, I’m aware that Abner was dead by the time Michael and Adam got out of the cage. But see, this story? This story is like when someone gifts you a goldfish unexpectedly, and you put it in a bowl, checking in to feed it a couple times a day, lowkey expecting it to die. But it doesn’t die, it gets bigger. And you’re not a cruel person, so you put it in a bigger tank, but it just gets bigger again, and you don’t really know what’s going on, but you know, you just kind of keep checking in, meeting the minimum requirements but not really getting in there as a guiding force because it’s a goldfish and it’s surely going to die any minute now—but then you look over and there’s giant tank taking up your living room, and you’re thawing out bloodworms twice a day, and looking into tankmates to keep Charles company, and realize that “Oh wow, I guess this is a thing now.”

In short, the story says we’re ignoring the timeline, and it’s calling the shots. I’m just keeping the tank clean.

The angels all eventually wind up running into each other. Abner and Esther happen upon one another in a park, where Esther is morosely realizing that she is terrible at being a human child but she does not want to go home to Heaven, and it just happens to be the same park where Abner goes with his “little nibblet” once a day to let her toddle around the playground while he chats with nannies and other house parents. Anael, Adina, and Daniel meet up when the latter two’s game has reached the point where they’ve decided to get married, and they apparently need to buy something new—preferably blue—as per this very important rhyme someone told them about. Esther and Gabriel run into each other in an ice cream parlor. Thaddeus gets recognized while doing an interview on TV that everyone sees. And, while out joyriding in a Lamborghini, on their way to meet up with the growing community of angels who decided to opt out of their responsibility to Heaven and their father’s legacy, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael are all startled to see Michael land on an ambulance stopped next to them at a red light.

Balthazar and Anael are both terrified, as if they’ve just been busted by a parent, because Michael, of course, is the guy who enforces the rules, and isn’t he supposed to be in Hell? They both shoot Gabriel looks as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing’ when Gabriel, watching as Michael climbs down and matter-of-factly wrenches the ambulance doors open, calls out, “Hey, Mike! Is that you?”

Michael looks over, freezes for a second—not prepared to be suddenly thrust into a social situation in the middle of his self-imposed mission to spite death—then his eyes flash and Adam takes over. “Oh hey, you’re Michael’s family? What a small world! I’m Adam, I’ve heard so much about you. Wait, hang on—”

The light starts to turn green, but Adam snaps his fingers and it promptly reverts to red.

Three jaws drop in the luxury car, and they don’t even hear Adam politely explain that he and Michael are in the middle of something, as he ducks into the ambulance, because Michael’s evidently letting a tiny human use his powers like it’s nothing, and what does that mean?

“Sweet dad in the unknown, Michael’s shagging a human. . .”

“Nooo!”

“HOW?”

“Hey, kid, you like weddings?”

At some point in the story, all the MIA angels are together, and Benjamin or someone comes running in saying, “Quick, they’re coming! Everyone hide!”

And everyone scatters, except for Michael, who stands in place, saying, “Gabriel, we’re archangels, two of the most powerful beings in existence. Why would we—”

And then Gabriel picks Adam up like a sack of potatoes and sprints off, calling back, “Trust me, you do NOT want to get involved with them!”

Being a projection, Michael is obligated to follow.

Team Free Will then walks by, looking constipated from whatever Big Awful Thing is currently threatening to destroy the world.

The story, of course, culminates in the wedding of Adina and Daniel, who still don’t quite understand what marriage is beyond promising to love each forever, which of course they will, after all, they are the very best of friends—which is about the same concept that most of the other angels present have. Adam is the first one to actually approach the big awkward question, upon finding out who the bride and groom are.

“Wait, aren’t they brother and sister?”

To which Serafina’s Adam, (who is of course there since Serafina was the original angel to play hooky) whose sons married his daughters, and all the angels, who do not understand what that has to do with anything, all cock their heads in unison and respond with, “So?”

Adam struggles to find words, looking into so many innocent faces. Then Benjamin’s wife puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Shhh, let them have their fun.”

Benjamin’s wife and the two Adams wind up sitting at the venue’s bar, where they order nachos from a very confused bar tender, and watch as the angels go about setting up a wedding. But given that most angels haven’t been on earth regularly in roughly two thousand years, none of them have a clear grasp of what a human wedding entails.

“I heard it’s traditional for the father to give away the bride.”

“I think they’re supposed to kiss over bread.”

“Do humans still slaughter cows at these things?”

“I’m pretty sure someone is supposed to break a glass—”

Several angels promptly throw glassware on the floor.

At no point do the angels ask the humans for advice.

Occasionally, Gabriel knowingly throws out obscure details to keep the confusion going.

“You know, the groom needs to stand with the right arm to the aisle in case a sword fight breaks out.”

“Right! . . .How do we know which one’s the groom?”

At the bar, Adam open’s his mouth to say something, but the original Adam shushes him.

“No no, son, let them get there.”

The angels agree that being the better fighter, Adina should be the groom.

They’re nearly ready to start when Michael suddenly doubles over with his hand over his mouth. It coincides with the sound of Adam pounding the bar top, having just eaten a Carolina Reaper pepper on dare. Michael’s eyes quickly flash silver-blue as he straightens, and both he and Adam are abruptly fine—even if their eyes are still watering somewhat. But a different sort of damage has already been done, as Anael, Balthazar, and Gabriel all abruptly turn toward the triad of humans, having been reminded that the Michael walking around with them is actually a projection. In actuality, Michael is anchored to the human ex-college student sitting at the bar.

All three of them rush toward Adam, but Serafina gets there first, asking Adam if he’s ever tried mushroom tea.

Balthazar gets there next. 

“Adam, was it? We didn’t get to talk in the car, let’s fix that. Are you over twenty-one? You know what, this is a family affair, don’t worry—CAN I GET TWO SHOTS OF DON JULIO OVER HERE?”

From that point on, any time Adam turns around, there’s one of Michael’s siblings, wanting to get to know him—by consuming some sort of beverage. Because Adam and Michael are sharing body—and that means they share a liver too. A bet ensues as to how much it will take to get God’s alleged favorite wasted.

Gabriel’s actually one of the first out, having been convinced that Michael would be a lightweight. Little does he suspect that Benjamin and his wife caught onto what was happening soon after Adam was fed his third long island iced tea and second jager bomb, and began quietly cleansing the alcohol from his system through casual shoulder pats and high fives.

Adam does not know what to make of any of this, but it’s Michael’s family and he wants to make a good impression, so he just goes with it.

Thaddeus, of course, is in charge of music, Gabriel and Esther consume the majority of the cake, and Michael catches the bouquet (he may have cheated after finding out what the bouquet toss is for).

[fibula-rasa]

12 Christmas Films of a Century Past

For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to watch somewhere around 50 Christmas and Christmas-adjacent silent films from before 1920 to put together a playlist for you all. So, I hope you enjoy!

I chose these twelve as a representative selection. My general criteria were:

Christmas should be central to the story

The plot should be novel to a modern viewer or something a modern viewer would be surprised to see so early on film

The list on the whole should have a variety of settings and narrative structures

Here’s a direct link to the YouTube playlist if you want to watch them all in one go. (They are all shorter than feature length!)

Two quick presentation notes: 1. Some of the videos have music and some don’t, so you may want to check your volume level. 2. The intertitles for some of these films are not in English, so be sure you have captions turned on for English translations.

See the whole list BELOW THE JUMP!

1. Santa Claus (1898) (UK)

Directed by George Albert Smith

Short and sweet, this film sees children put to bed by their nanny on Christmas Eve and Santa Claus coming down the chimbley to fill their dutifully hung stockings. Director G.A. Smith used his own patented technique of double exposure to show Santa’s arrival without cutting away from the children’s room. Santa Claus might not pack the punch of a Méliès trick film, but it’s a fun novelty and is purportedly the first appearance of Santa Claus on film.

2. The Little Match Seller (1902) (UK)

Directed by James Williamson

This one’s quick but effective adaptation of the Hans Christian Anderson tragedy featuring impressively well-coordinated superimpositions.

3. The Christmas Angel (1904) (FR)

Directed by George Méliès for Star Film Company

The Christmas Angel follows an impoverished girl driven into the city to beg on a snowy winter night. First she’s chased away from a church by more seasoned beggars; then she’s thrown out of a poultry seller and harassed by police. On the verge of falling asleep in the snow, a rag-and-bone man rouses her and offers her help. Later, the girl passes out beside a road but is luckily spotted by a wealthy couple on a car ride. When they learn of her plight, they bring her home along with food and gifts.

Though not as fantastical as some of Méliès’ more famous works, The Christmas Angel is still highly stylized (and stylish) and features special effects that photograph beautifully. It’s also worth noting that the version of the film included here is the American cut. The original French cut, titled Détresse et Charité (Distress and Charity), did not include the sequence with the wealthy couple and instead ends with the girl dying in the snow.

4. The Night Before Christmas (1905) (US)

Directed by Edwin S. Porter for Edison Manufacturing Company

This is the first time the poem “Twas the Night Before Christmas” was put on film. Loosely following the poem, we see Santa Claus prepare for his yearly trek while a middle-class family prepares for his visit. When Santa heads out, we are treated to an extended panning sequence with a fully painted backdrop for a mini Santa and his reindeer to glide across. When Santa arrives at the family home, he chaotically dumps presents and decorations around their living room and makes a large, decorated tree appear out of thin air. (Across many of the movies I watched to put this post together, this seems to be a favored scenario for the jolly fat man around this time–and it’s delightful.) The family then wakes to find their gifts and the film closes with Santa directly wishing us a Merry Christmas.

5. A Little Girl Who Did Not Believe in Santa Claus (1907) (US)

Directed by J. Searle Dawley and Edwin S. Porter for Edison Manufacturing Company

Even at the risk of this list being too Edison heavy, I couldn’t leave this great short out. While walking with his mother, a rich little boy encounters a poor little girl alone in the cold. They take her home to play and warm up. When the boy learns that the girl doesn’t believe in Santa because apparently Santa doesn’t visit poor children, he hatches a scheme. On Christmas Eve, the boy has a stake out near the fireplace and takes Santa hostage, tying him up and holding him at gunpoint. The boy then forces Santa to visit the girl–going so far as shimmying down the chimney himself to let Santa in the front door. When the girl wakes up to a beautifully decorated tree, new toys, and a full stocking, she can finally believe in Santa Claus. While I’m generally not so into stories about supposedly benevolent rich people, I do love the implications this story has on how Santa Claus works and I also find the means with which the boy gets his way hilarious.

6. Il Natale di Cretinetti / Foolshead’s Christmas (1909) (IT)

and Come fu che l’ingordigia rovino il Natale di Cretinetti / How Greediness Spoilt Foolshead’s Christmas (1910)

and Il Natale di Cretinetti (1911)

Directed by Andre Deed for Itala Film

This entry is a three-for, which I hope you’ll excuse, but I couldn’t decide which Cretinetti Christmas to share! Cretinetti, the comedic persona of filmmaker Andre Deed, is an absolute agent of chaos.

In the 1909 film, Cretinetti attempts to bring a tree home for a Christmas party. The destruction escalates wildly, culminating in an entire building falling to pieces.

If you can believe it, the stakes are even higher in the 1910 film, when Cretinetti can’t resist sneaking out of bed on Christmas Eve to snack on the candy decorating the tree. When Santa sees what Cretinetti has done, he chides him and takes him back to his workshop, which is apparently in heaven. Destruction ensues. Cretinetti then proceeds to cause havoc for Saint Peter, annoying god so much that he calls the devil to come get Cretinetti. Cretinetti is then chased to hell where demons try to cook him alive. Thankfully, spoiler alert, it was all a bad dream and he wakes up on Christmas morning with a terrible stomach ache.

The 1911 film returns to localized chaos. Cretinetti has a run-in with a mail carrier and his Christmas packages get mixed up with one of the carrier’s parcels. The parcel contains three bottles of ether which then begin to emit gasses in the middle of the family Christmas party.

I wasn’t familiar with Cretinetti before reviewing films for this list, but I’m definitely going to seek out more of Deed’s movies. Each of these films had well-executed chaotic slapstick; over-the-top in all the right ways.

7. Making Christmas Crackers (1910) (UK)

Produced by Cricks & Martin Films for Clarke, Nickolls, & Coombs Confectionery

To start, if you’re not sure what a Christmas cracker is, it’s a colorfully decorated paper tube that makes a cracking noise as you pull it open. Inside the tube is a paper hat, a joke, and/or a small toy. It’s a traditional part of UK Christmas celebrations.

This short starts as a documentary of the workers at Clarke, Nickolls, & Coombs constructing the crackers. It’s a fun thought that as early as 1910, people were interested in watching how mass-produced consumer goods were made. It’s also fun to see these skilled workers ply their trade so deftly (even though I’m sure wages and working conditions were less than ideal). The film ends with a family celebrating around a Christmas tree topped with a functional giant cracker.

8. A Christmas Carol (1910) (US)

Directed by J. Searle Dawley for Edison Films Manufacturing Company

There are so so so many film adaptations of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol made before 1920 that it was hard to choose which one to include on this list. In the end I chose this 1910 version for its economy of storytelling, fluid use of special effects, and for Marc McDermott’s great performance as Scrooge.

9. Broncho Billy’s Christmas Dinner (1911) (US)

Directed by Gilbert M. Anderson (Broncho Billy) for The Essanay Film Manufacturing Company

Gilbert M. Anderson was an incredibly prolific and popular filmmaker and star of early American film, particularly in his role as Broncho Billy. As was typical for Anderson, he’s pulling triple duty on Broncho Billy’s Christmas Dinner as the star, director, and producer. The film features a simple and heartwarming story.

On Christmas, Billy comes across a young woman in peril as her horses got startled and are now pulling her cart along wildly. Billy manages to wrangle the horses and in gratitude she invites him to Christmas dinner at her parents’ home. Unfortunately, her father happens to be the sheriff. But, all is well, as it turns out that Broncho Billy’s been given a pardon and the sheriff welcomes him to the table gladly.

The enduring appeal of outlaws or criminals getting into the Christmas spirit is fascinating to me and it’s cool to see such an early instance of the story!

10. Le Noel de la princesse / The Little Princess’s XMas Gift (1911) (FR)

Produced by Société Générale des Cinématographes Éclipse

In all honesty, this is the least Christmassy of all the films I included here, but its style and novelty stood out. The sets, costuming, and production design are lush. It might also be one of the weirdest Christmas stories I’ve even encountered.

After Lord Othberg passes away, the conniving Otto plans to assassinate the baby prince in order to inherit the lordship himself. He poisons the baby, but the princess prays for her baby brother to come back to life as her Christmas gift. An angel appears to her and they summon Jesus, who resurrects her baby brother. Of course, they then place the revivified baby in the castle’s nativity scene, to the joy of all but Otto.

11. Ida’s Christmas (1912) (US)

Directed by Van Dyke Brooke for Vitagraph Company of America

With a more classic Christmassy story, Ida’s Christmas tells us of a family who are facing hard times. Ida (played by a very small Dolores Costello) has her eyes on a pricey doll. Meanwhile, her mother seeks out employment with a wealthy family. The matriarch of the wealthy family overhears Ida’s wish and decides to buy the doll for her as a surprise. Later, Ida is distraught to find that the doll has been purchased but comes across a wallet that someone has dropped. She considers taking the money, but chases down the owner instead. The old man gives her some reward money for returning the wallet. Ida rushes to see if she can buy the doll, but has second thoughts when she thinks about how much her family could use the money. She arrives home with the money just in time for a Santa-esque old man to show up bearing packages and an assurance that the wealthy family has work for her father. The film ends with the family celebrating an unexpectedly Merry Christmas.

It’s a sweet story that hits so many beats of what we now consider traditional Christmas tales.

12. Rozhdestvo obitateley lesa / The Insect’s Christmas (1913) (RU)

Directed by Władysław Starewicz for Khanzhonkov

Fair warning, if you thought The Princess’s XMas Gift was odd, you might need to ready yourself for this one. Stop-motion virtuoso Władysław Starewicz (Ladislas Starevich) spins a tale about a tiny ornament of Santa/Ded Moroz coming to life on Christmas and going out into the wild to bring Christmas joy to creatures small and smaller, including a frog and a ladybug. Starewicz’s animation is as impeccable as ever and the short is imaginative and quirky.

[red-hood-vigilante]

more hbo spn rambles, thoughts, drabbles etc. long long post.

part 1 here

there’s some things i’ve omitted here bc others have already posted about those things, certain headcanons and characterizations and stuff. those posts are in my likes somewhere (and i’ll reblog them someday), and there’s some posts i’ve read but not liked, which i now can only vaguely remember, which is why some ideas/thoughts are similar

ALSO most of these follow the model i talked about in part one: how s1-5 will stay more or less how they are but s6-10 is changed (some things are cut out entirely, some things are tweaked and some characters + arcs are more fleshed out. more focus on sam’s trauma and post-cage adaptation to the real world as well as dean letting his rage and control issues consume him and how he’d recover and redeem himself)

as i typed these paragraphs, i realized i really have 10 seasons mapped out and ready to go. hbo hire me!!

alright go:

sam and dean get wearier as the show progresses (second half), and eventually they stop putting so much care and thought in the people they save. like...hm how do i say this, like as long as a victim/victims are saved, they don’t care about how that happens or how those people suffer potential consequences, like if the victims lose a limb or have their homes burned down because of the monster, then sam and dean don’t really care. they saved your life, now they’ll leave you with your life in potential shambles and not care because all that matters is that they saved your life, not how it is afterwards. they still care about saving that one person, but eventually it pales a little in comparison to a war between heaven and hell, being the vessels etc. ---> saving people becomes less about making sure they’re actually alright and healing from horrific events and more about just making sure they have a pulse before they move on

when angels lose their wings they are either burned off in the actual fall or ripped off of them in their vessels, which leaves pretty nasty scars on the vessel

ed and harry are so young and bright eyed about the whole hunting thing; sam and dean as kids, idolizing it, finding it exciting and intriguing when they shouldn’t. sam and dean try to get them out of the business before they too are too traumatized and desensitized to do anything but hunt. neither sam or dean will say it but they are jealous of ed and harry and their freedom to leave, and hate them for choosing this voluntarily instead of being dragged into it by tragedy

hbo spn is a slow burn. there’s a lot more shots of sam and dean in silence just sitting together after a hunt, exhausted and too tired to move yet. they’re covered in blood and guts on the side of the road after killing or covered with dirt in a graveyard after burning bones, sitting next to the fire, just watching it. the times they park the car and watch the stars? we get to see it. 

dean wears rings and the amulet all the time in the beginning, for the first five seasons. the rings vary; first they’re some of john’s old ones and stuff he finds in thrift stores. then later on he begins wearing rings from people they’ve saved/haven’t saved as a keepsakes etc. when he begins his descent to the holy murderer in s6-10 he wears less and less rings. they don’t matter anymore -> symbolically shedding who he was and what mattered to him

the only accessories sam has is a rosary/cross around his neck. he has jess’ engagement ring in his pocket/wallet. after the cage he vaguely remembers why the ring was there and who jessica was (more on this further down)

the four horsemen are manifestations of different aspects of human nature at its most grotesque and strongest, can’t be killed as long as humans live. war is conflict, famine is desire, pestilence is physical and mental illnesses.

(the seven sins are like the horsemen, tulpas of human nature instead of demons)

death isn’t a concentration of an existing aspect of humans as much as it is the end of life, the antithesis of life. death the oldest of the horsemen and has existed since the beginning of any life, organism, cell and atom. the opposite of life and light, the other half of god (as i’m typing this i’m confused as to why  amara was the opposite of god instead of death). death isn’t evil or good, remains 100% objective. doesn’t care for sam or dean at all, but has a begrudging respect for their stubbornness and entertainment they provide due to their flat out refusal to do as they’re told by celestial bodies when anyone else would crumble

by including death i feel like it very naturally begs questions of who decides when someone dies, when someone lives, why would death follow these guides instead of reaping whomever whenever, what happens if a life isn’t reaped at the right time etc. the reader in me adore the idea of death having a library with books and records of everyone who has ever lived and died and how they died - but then, who writes these books and why? do they decide, and if in that case, how? these questions are above my paygrade but you know what i mean? like there has to be some sort of system right, god created everything, death executes to maintain order, some third party deity writes the laws and the books. the three branches of government. ok but it’s hbo so again, i think we shouldn’t dive this deep into things, like as much as these topics intrigue me i don’t want to stray too much from the dirt road trip aesthetic

shapeshifters are extremely rare because they don’t require any kind of human blood or organs/sacrifice to live

i want more exploration of how magic is like science, like it just needs the right ingredients and right conditions. sam thinks of magic as an obscure branch of science; it just requires research and knowledge and clear intentions because science can be controlled and do a lot of good when used responsibly. dean doesn’t like it. he doesn’t trust the unpredictable elements and he’s seen enough to know it never goes well. magic is a force that can’t be controlled by anyone.

sam and dean have full on fist fights regularly. to practice and keeping each other sharp, but also because they’re siblings. they’re feral, insane and unhinged with each other and they get on each other’s nerves A LOT. it’s petty and childish and sometimes it can get a lil ugly but it becomes their way of family therapy. after a fight the next scene cuts to sam and dean with ruffled clothes, nosebleeds and swollen lips at a diner eating silently after beating each other up. either they sit in silence because they’re tired or both are harping on the other’s openings and weaknesses

sometimes they’ll fight a little dirty but they do so in different ways; dean will pull the old ‘look!’ and point to something and then tackle sam when he turns to look while sam will just cry out in fake pain which makes dean stop dead in his tracks before sam headbutts him or kicks him in the groin

we, the audience get used to these fights, they’re sometimes funny and for comic relief, sometimes for narrative purposes (like tricking a monster they’re fighting each other when they’re really not) BUT. then comes the times when sam and dean are actually fighting without holding back and we see how much they are capable of hurting each other or how heartbreaking and difficult it can be to watch when of them are incapable of fighting back/doesn’t defend himself -> swan song when dean doesn’t fight back against possessed sam, or when dean beats soulless sam unconscious

sam and dean also just verbally bully each other constantly but they do have their odd ways of expressing affection and care. they get the other person their fave snack whenever they go grocery shopping without being asked to and are the only other one they truly trust to have their back in hunts. have a cup of coffee ready before the other asks for one. brothers and each other’s best friend. nightmare duo but in a sweet way. the cooperation of ‘the usual suspects’ when they’re in different interrogation rooms but still has the cover story down to a t. code words and code names and cover stories, they know it all

when sam and dean fight together against a common enemy they’re a damn nightmare - because they know each others weaknesses and habits, they cover each other perfectly and in complete silence. they’ve been at it together since they were kids and read each other’s nonverbal cues like a picture book

to build off of what i said in part 1; the winchesters are pretty hated in the hunter’s community. even the people sam and dean frequently work with (bobby, ellen, jo, ash, rufus, bela, kevin, charlie, castiel etc) roasts them all the time and don’t hesitate with calling them out on their self-pitying crap when it get’s too much (spn was just objectively better when characters weren’t afraid of dragging sam and dean through the mud for being selfish and stupid) and this WILL persist in hbo spn. the only reason people continue working with sam and dean is because they know deep down a lot of the things that happens aren’t sam and dean’s fault - but they still blame them for it. doesn’t make it easier how sam or dean sometimes start crap on purpose to save the other

the winchesters are terrifying and people for sure tell stories about them, but not like ‘they’re heroes’, more like ‘they’re insane and dangerous. stay the fuck away from them’. some stories are true, like how they’ve worked with demons, but some are just game of telephone. (dean has apparently a ghost he is frequently possessed by while sam is actually a mutant vampire). hunters hate and are scared of the winchesters. sam and dean are never invited to hunter stuff (burials, memorials etc) but crash them nonetheless even though the hunters do NOT want them there.

you know what drives me insane when i think about it? how some characters in spn already are their hbo spn counterparts; john. mary. adam. maybe kevin?

other things that already are their hbo spn counterparts: dean throwing away the amulet right in front of sam. eyes burning when angels are seen. how ghosts are just tragedies, stuck in a loop they can’t leave. how a lot of the monsters they meet are just victims or their circumstances or the first victim of a curse. the impala being sam and dean’s home. dean not knowing how to comfort sam when he’s upset other than trying to do things for sam that usually brings dean comfort (driving the impala, listening to rock music etc). the roadhouse. heaven being an eternal version of the memories that made you the happiest even though it’s not real. sam wanting independence and freedom but never fully having it. dean fearing being alone more than anything else and that’s where he always ends up. sam has an eating disorder after the demon blood and dean has an alcohol problem he refuses to see as a problem. dean saying “i’d do it again” without an ounce of regret and pouring himself a drink when sam tells him it was fucked up to lie to him about gadreel

the demon/angel hybrid: THIS could be sooo interesting to explore. an angel and demon hybrid are you kidding me?? not to toot my own horn too much but i’m so clever. i should write this story myself. SO. does this creature have parents who fucked in their vessels or was this an experiment by god (yes i love the ‘mad scientist’ idea, that really should’ve been played up way more) or did a pre-existing creature (human or otherwise) drink demon blood and angel grace at the same time so that it created itself? so much potential for some really intriguing storytelling and character exploration - not only the creature itself and what they would be like, but also for the people around; sam, dean, castiel, jack etc. how would they react to this thing that is the very definition of defying heaven and hell and all the natural laws? does it exist before the show starts or will we see its birth?

the powers of the demon/angel hybrid would be tricky; a mix of holy and defiant, grotesque and beautiful. unconsciously forces people to tell the truth when talking to them. poisons whatever they touch. eyes of a demon, wings of an angel. can smite but skin will burn when touching iron. can do deals but will require a sacrifice in return, not a soul, usually a body part taken then and there (the hybrid eats it. it favours eyeballs and the liver - angels like raw meat). lights always flicker. makes things explode when angry (esp people and cars). can manipulate feelings, thoughts and memories. can travel to both heaven and hell, not welcome in either places. + standard stuff like telekinesis, teleportation, mind reading, super strength etc. 

sam and dean’s wardrobe are pretty much the same; whatever’s cheap and not covered in blood. however, they do have stylistic differences. sam thinks graphic tees are funny, dean uses whatever’s black combined with john’s leather jacket. their wardrobe melds as they stop thinking of themselves as individuals and more of “me and my brother,”. their clothes are tattered and torn to shreds all the time. hand me downs, hand me ups. when they stray off their “path” and do things that are the crux of a storyline/character arc, this would reflect in their clothes. when sam is with ruby and becomes more and more “evil” he wears more and more red, a colour he has stated in the past he doesn’t really like. when dean is dead, sam starts to wear his rings and john’s and dean’s leather jacket. when dean decides he’s going to say yes to michael he dresses in white, when sam is dead dean takes off every piece of jewelry except the amulet. he holds it clenched in his fists when he’s whispering what comes close to a prayer

logically the amulet should have a backstory but you know what? i love that it’s hinted to be just a piece of cheap jewelry sam found in a thrift store he decided to give to dean. but narratively it should be explained so... idk. what could be logical solution as to why it would react to GOD himself? maybe god wore it once cuz he thought it was neat but he sold it for three dollars because he wanted coffee and then sam found it a week later

i would prefer it if god didn’t show up at all (absent father number one) but if he DID he’s not all powerful just a true neutral (like death, 100% objective) who created a thing that just took a life of its own, much like a parent and a child - the parent helps the child but can’t control it. the times he did intervene or tried to do something it didn’t really have any real long lasting effect so he gave up on trying a while ago. 

@spneveryseason talked about this, how the storyline of sam being possessed by gadreel would be horrifying if we saw everything from sam’s perspective instead of dean’s (her fic is wonderful). in the ‘dean slowly descends into a righteous murderer to become holy’ idea i have this tracks so damn well because again, if dean believes something is right, it is right, no questions about it. everyone around him is like “that’s really fucked up and you should make amends” but dean doesn’t see any reasons for why - sam is alive isn’t he? and seeing it from sam’s pov would really underline how horrifying, dehumanizing and belittling that experience was

john and mary are adam and eve. sam and dean are cain and abel are michael and lucifer. time is a flat circle. history never stops repeating itself. 

sam is the villain of s4. he is manipulated and key information is withheld from him but in the end... would it made a difference? it crossed his mind, that he could be tricked because ruby is a demon after all, but maybe he likes the power, the feeling of freedom, that he wasn’t just the baby, the one who always needs permission to do things. if he has to drain possessed people to get that power... so be it. and it’s for a good purpose, until it isn’t. he’s hungry for more, to be feared and respected. he’s enticed by lucifer’s sweet words, the potential of all that power and the idea of ruling two out of three realms. dean manages to pull him back from the brink because sam decides he doesn’t want to be what john thought he was and fail dean and himself like that.

dean is the villain in s9. he is controlling, the mark of cain without the mark. what he says goes - it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship. he doesn’t see how much pain, doubt and fear he causes the people around him. if some victims or civilians die on his watch that doesn’t matter - just some collateral damage. sam can’t make dean listen to him because dean is the older one, the one who’s always called the shots. dean is the angelic one, heaven’s chosen warrior, he is untouchable and unkillable. he’s is an excellent killer, filling the void with blood and rage which is better than the crippling fear of loneliness carved into his bones. 'i butcher for love, to protect,’ he tells himself. ‘why shouldn’t i exterminate, regardless of the cost? i’ve followed the rules, i’ve always sacrificed. now i call the shots. it’s my right.’

sam’s hell trauma is never magically removed. he’s stuck with the memories and the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations. castiel can’t do anything but offers to wipe his memory completely, but sam says no, he is still doing penance. 

after dean comes back from hell he starts calling himself old man and jokes a lot about he’s 40 years older now (after he’s more comfortable about speaking about hell) 

when sam comes back he feels ancient (he’s over 900 years old at least but he lost count), weary, tired and so so so out of place in this world. he’s forgotten how to put gas in a car, how to drive, how to use a credit card, all the song lyrics he and dean used to yell together, the faces of people he knew before he fell, the softness of a bed, the schools he went to, most of the hunts he and dean, how john died, who mary is, the initials carved into the impala, the taste of food that isn’t raw meat. it’s so much he’s forgotten that he has to relearn. he prefers figuring things out with castiel instead of dean because castiel doesn’t silently resent him for everything he’s forgotten

sam doesn’t laugh anymore. despite dean’s many and castiel’s few awkward attempts, it’s more like quick smile and a quiet “hmm”. on some days he recoils when he sees blood and guts, on other days he’s so apathetic it’s unnerving

sam sympathizes with the brought back mary and castiel more than ever. dean tries to get sam to remember things he’s forgotten from his childhood but sam can’t connect with it anymore. he stopped being that sam a long time ago. dean doesn’t know what else to do than try to force this connection to be revitalized and he fails. sam isn’t that person anymore and this wedge in their relationship becomes a central factor in dean’s s6-10 desperation and isolation. sam is here and safe but it’s not really sam, not the sam dean grew up with

while sam has forgotten how to make coffee, he now knows everything about angels, effective torture tricks, a bunch of lore + biblical history, how to navigate hell, the most powerful and influential demons, rare and powerful spells as well as perfect enochian (he will speak enochian without realizing and it feels more natural than english). lucifer and michael were surprisingly talkative (raging about the unfairness) when taking their anger and hatred out on sam and adam and each other. sam had access to all of lucifer’s memories and knowledge for the time he was the one in control. walking library and encyclopedia of biblical lore.

he still has some muscle memory from hunting and sparring, but sam is ghostly thin and very rusty. even though he’s an expert on lore, he’s not fit to go on hunts anymore and he knows it. 

sam remembers adam and swears he’ll try to get him out, but he can’t. just thinking about the cage makes him vomit. he can’t talk about it, much less go near it. after a while sam thinks it might be better to let adam stay down there than let him come back up and feel this crushing emptiness and loss of direction

sam’s trials take place in s9 instead of 8; coinciding with dean’s villain arc. for sam the trials are a chance to redeem himself again, this time for good by closing hellgates forever. they’re scrubbing him clean of the demon blood and his sins and they give him a sense of purpose again now that he can’t join hunts anymore. it doesn’t matter if he dies because of it. it would be nice with a permanent and peaceful death that did something good. dean is taken aback by sam’s devotion to repent for something that happened years ago and for something sam has already paid for a thousand times over. dean realizes how messed up he himself has become and how he’s helped put sam here, on the cusp of self sacrifice again because of sickening guilt and self hatred. dean begs sam to not complete the trials at the cost of his own life and swears he’ll better himself, be a friend and a brother, not a jailer, dictator or a murderer. ‘if you won’t give yourself or life another chance, please give me one.’ ---> s10 pacifist dean learning to let go of the control, the violent tendencies and the rage

oh wait what if gadreel still possessed sam after the trials to heal him but sam is the one who invites the angel in? he’ll keep his promise to dean about staying alive, as well as heal from the inside and have breaks from the world when he doesn’t want to be present, like he and gadreel will alternate being the one in control. he keeps it a secret from dean and helps gadreel imitate him so dean won’t notice. it’s not so bad, being possessed by this angel - sam can say no anytime and gadreel is a nice guy. since they alternate on who’s present they can access each other’s memories, which is terrifying and embarrassing at first, but since gadreel and sam have been tricked and used by lucifer and been punished for it for far too long, they understand each other. now another creature knows their trauma and terrors without the need for verbal explanation. also having an angel residing in his body makes sam feel like he can hunt properly again because gadreel can heal him and take over in situations sam’s overpowered. this could show how messed up sam has come to view himself and his body. 

dean is conflicted when he finds out; sam lied but gadreel does help sam heal, sam’s traumatized and his self-worth is fucked up and dean has contributed to that. dean convinces sam to push gadreel out, that sam is still valuable, loved and a good person who shouldn’t be in a place where he views his body and mind like a property to be occupied. sam’s faith begins to come back bit by bit, not in god, but in himself, his brother, in the good things in life. they build their little family; sam, dean, castiel, the hybrids, whomever of their allies that are alive at this point.

castiel can heal sam and dean’s wounds but they are never completely gone; they leave scars and phantom pains. the brothers have SO many scars over the years. dean flaunts them to impress people because he likes the questions and the fearful admiration, the attention and the nods of approval. sam hides them.

when dean is in a bad mood or needs to get his mind off of things, sam just drops something like ‘i don’t get the deal with led zeppelin. one of the most overrated bands of all time’ and dean will go OFF every single time about the entire led zeppelin history, their discography and how they’ve shaped rock music. this will go on for hours and sam will zone out after 1 minute. but dean rants nonsensically the entire drive and it does get him to think about something else for a little bit. they stop at a motel and dean is STILL ranting while brushing his teeth. stops when going to sleep but without fail picks up where he left off the morning after and is so into it he doesn’t notice sam not paying attention at all. we could see this once in s1 when they’re searching for john, another in s3 when dean is anxious about his deal coming to an end and then again in a later season, when sam doesn’t remember to ask/doesn’t have the patience or mental capability, so they’ll sit there in tense silence, showing how much they’ve changed.

---> i can see this SO clearly in my head, how they’ll get in the car and we, the audience, will recognize the camera angle, the same lines and dean’s grumpy mood, and we’ll anticipate what comes next. but sam isn’t that kid anymore and he’s not peeking at dean to gauge what his mood is and how much of a shit eating grin he should wear when being an annoying little brother to cheer dean up. now he’s looking out the window, leaned back, they’re not looking at each other. this shot is a minute or two long, uninterrupted. dean turns on music but neither are singing along or doing anything to lighten the mood. 

s1-5: sam gets hooked on demon blood, dean has an alcohol problem. when sam goes through withdrawals, dean decides to quit drinking and joins him because he wants to be supportive, and he realizes that when he drinks two beers for breakfast there’s a problem

s6-10: sam takes painkillers, anti depressants and anti psyhosis meds to numb himself from the phantom pains and reduce post-cage effects. dean started drinking again after sam jumped and still does, but started smoking in addition because he still drives a lot and doesn’t want to die in something as pathetic as a car crash. 

there a scene in an episode in the first half of s8, when sam has decided to stay with dean instead of amelia, and dean has rejected benny in favor of sam, and then the brothers sit in a couch watching tv while drinking beer and neither of them look particularly happy about it - that’s how their relationship is a lot of the time. they know they’re fucked up and neither of them will ever be truly happy when the other’s around, but they owe each other so much and they don’t have to explain themselves to each other the way they do to others. they know each other so well, each other’s traumas and the things they’ve done, it feels fake and exhausting to try to be something other than the veteran hunters they are. misery loves company; they are miserable together but would be far more miserable apart and living a normal life. they do love each other, but neither of them are particularly happy as the show progresses. family is hell and so is the lack of it. 

OK OK i mentioned it in part one, how i had my own very specific idea about how jack should come to be and here it is. long winded but (might just write a damn fic): 

after lucifer was cast back into the cage, he is stronger than he has been in a long time (being in his true vessel helped him stretched muscles he forgot he had. and fresh air.) sam is pulled out of the cage and it leaves a rift in the magic and chains - the binding is weaker and lucifer must act fast to get out before it heals. the cage is still strong enough to hold two archangels, so lucifer has to become weaker somehow to slip out through the cracks. he can’t get out of the cage, but souls can come in. demons bring themselves and human souls as tools for lucifer to use. there’s not much he can do here - consuming them, eating them, touching them, dissecting them doesn’t give him what he wants

eventually lucifer realizes he must do like azazel and create something new of two halves, like when he created demons. he begins melding his archangel grace with a human soul. he tries with demons, but his archangel grace automatically purifies them and leaves them too weak. he must try with a human soul who is good. he finds the soul of kelly kline, who sold her soul to save a loved one. with her, the merging, works. 

he has another self, a twin, a son, who’s half human and half archangel. half lucifer. the old lucifer will die but that’s ok, his desires, presence and self will live on in his new creation. the new lucifer barely makes it out of the cage, only able to due to its human side. on earth it creates a body for itself and takes shape, no longer a form of pure power and energy akin to the sun itself but now a person, reminiscent of kelly kline on earth and lucifer in heaven. they name themselves jack. jack searches for familiarity and finds it in sam, their old self’s perfect tool and another hybrid. jack finds a mentor in castiel, a younger brother and fellow angel with human elements. they do not find anything in dean, the key to his former self’s doom.

jack’s powers: their powers are like and unlike the angels because he is half archangel. jack has wings but sometimes they don’t work, or they’ll end up somewhere else entirely. their body is their own, not a vessel, so jack can’t possess people. doesn’t talk but people “know” what they’re saying or want because jack emits their emotions and thoughts to people they’re talking to like a radio tower. jack can also have this empathic connection and communication with animals. his mood affects the weather. immortal. reads minds. can remove a soul from a body and send it to heaven/hell by touching it, with practice they don’t need to touch a body. 

other stuff about jack: the human/archangel nature means jack only need sleep and food once a week or so. eats only nougat and raw meat. because jack is a kid they nap a lot. levitates when sleeping. never blinks, stares intensely at everything. their eye colour changes based on their mood. eyes glow in the dark. normal humans who look at jack for too long experience memory loss, fainting spells or migraines and eye contact for more than 10 seconds give vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares. always barefoot, often floats like 10 cm off the ground because they find it more enjoyable than walking. wears the wildest clothes they can find, nothing matches and nothing is weather appropriate

i have a very specific image of jack in my mind; they look like delirium from the sandman comics with the hair that looks like it’s underwater and the fishes floating around their head, here and here are examples. in live action this would look not good or maybe even ridiculous for sure but in animation... endless potential for angels and monsters to have super interesting designs sigh

castiel’s arc should end with him going from blind soldier, to the unwilling ruler of heaven, finding a place on earth with sam and dean, becoming closer with humanity and eventually a father of three (the hybrids). 

[demwhore]

Hands to Myself (L.DH)

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x Female Reader

highschool au

Description: You swore to yourself that you will stay devoted to the one and only Mark Lee, or not?

words ➙ 7k

genre ➙ romance, angst

warnings➙ profanities, fist fight, scenes of making-out, mark is a red flag

A/N ➙ for hyuck’s bday. I dedicate these to @jaextapose​, this is the hyuck fic I promised you. @imoonstarstuff​ i hope you will love this! I apologize for some grammatical errors. Happy Reading!

Can't keep my hands to myself. No matter how hard I'm trying to.

Who is your crush? Mark Lee. Who do you love? Mark Lee. Who’s the one your heart is yearning for? Mark Lee. Who is your baby? Mark Lee. Whose name are you shouting in the corridors? Mark Lee. The reason why you’ve got detention, because you choose to watch him practice rather than attend your Biology Class? Mark Lee. Does he know you? Of course. Does he like you? Uhm, no. Does he love you? Now that is offensive, Fuck no.

Mark Lee knows about you, but for him, you were just a childhood friend and neighbor. But you were more than determined to snatch his neck and heart.

Tottering inside your room, you mumbled, “Ah!” you flicked a finger and your friend rolled her eyes, “Operation 101, steal Mark’s attention!” you said in a matter of a fact. You stood there, chin up high in confidence.

Krystal frowned, “Bitch, how? Mark is busy and doesn’t even spare everyone a glance, let alone you!” Krystal pressed. You acted as if you didn’t hear her reality slapping rants. In fact, you don’t give a shit. You just stared at your phone’s wallpaper dreamily, a satisfied sigh leaving your luscious lips, a live photo of Mark. To you, he wasn’t just Mark Lee, more like an angel who has a questionable love for watermelons. You reminded yourself to stop by the grocery and to give him a watermelon, as a bait for the incoming prom.

You gave her a grin, all your teeth showing, “If he rejects me, then I will pursue him,” you paused and plopped down your bed, Krystal following your figure.

“Again.”

Krystal shook her head in disbelief.

Legends say, If your crush doesn’t like you, then consider forcing them to like you back. And you strongly believe in Newton’s third law of motion, For every action, there is an equal reaction. A watermelon for Mark’s attention.

You transferred schools because of your father’s profession, one which included moving from one state to another. You were outgoing, so socializing in a new and unknown environment was easy for you. In a span of a short time, you’d quickly adapt to your surroundings. But as soon as your father would announce, you’ll be moving places, again, you’d have no choice but to start the socializing pace again. And you were never tired of doing it repeatedly. As you proclaim, you were a social butterfly.

But all your talkativeness crumpled and disappeared when your new neighbors was invited for dinner. The Lee’s entered your house, they were so kind and calm. Your family got along with the Lee’s in an instant. They had two sons, of which, one you love and one you hate. Across from your seat you saw him, Mark Lee. And there, from that moment, your tongue got tied, your parents even thought, you were sick. Because (Y/N) never shuts up and would find every opportunity to talk. But Mark Lee made you. It was a glamorous moment that you were gaping at Mark that night, but one would always spoil the moment, calling you out.

“You have drool over your table napkin.” You snapped out of your strance and glared at the boy beside Mark. Lee Donghyuck. He was a year younger than his older brother—he had a golden tone, his moles remind you of your favorite constellations, his lips are plump unlike Mark’s, and even though you hated to admit, he is handsome, very handsome.

You snapped, “Excuse me, I don’t drool.”

Donghyuck shrugged at you, “I certainly saw it with my two eyes.”

You settled down your fork, the utensil clinking down onto the mahogany table. You raised your voice, “I don’t.”

“Liars go to hell.”

“I--” You were stunned, your wide eyes staring back at his mischievous ones. He was smirking, and you really want to wipe off his face.

Hyuck shrugged, “See?”

You huffed. And were about to open your mouth to retort back, but your parents shushed you. The adults were amused to see the mini cat-fight between you and Donghyuck.

You mother mused, “Sweetie, that’s enough. You wouldn’t know, you and Donghyuck might be together in the future.” She gave you a grin while you fake-gagged.

You protested, “That’s impossible. Mom!”

They only laughed at your protests. They resumed eating and talked about business matters and other things. That night was memorable for you. You’d finally met your prince-charming and you were stealing glances at his way, but he was too engrossed that time, with the food in front of him. He had a laid back personality. You knew a little of Mark that night, as far as you could recall, the way his eyes sparkled at the sight of the watermelon. Your attention was just focused on Mark. But little did you know, Lee Donghyuck had his eyes set upon you, before you could even land your eyes on Mark.

I want you all to myself.

“Do you know where Mark is?”

You faced Jeno. You spent a whole hour searching for him, but Mark is just skilled at hide and seek. It is really tiring to search for his whereabouts. And the fact, you had to carry a watermelon with you? Tiring it is.

“Yeah. We had a dance practice, but he went out. Why are you searching for him, (Y/N)?” The tall boy inquired. His sharp eyes scrutinizing the watermelon in your arms. You blinked and bit down a grin. He knew about that grin of yours, and it shouts Mark Lee. He was about to open his mouth to speak again, but a sudden arrival stopped him from doing so.

You turned your body to meet him, “Hi (Y/N) baby, is that watermelon for me?” He blinked fast, staring at you while his lips plastered a charming smile. His tone is so sweet, but it never fazes you, “How sweet of you, let me carry that for you.” He tried to snatch the watermelon from you, but you swatted his hand. He gave you a toothy grin. You took a while to observe him—he grew a lot taller, towering over you. Handsome as always—but he never gives you those butterflies. Donghyuck was wearing a black shirt and grey sweatpants, giving justice to his long legs. His hair is dyed purple and it seriously complimented his good looks. You mentally slapped yourself, You came here for Mark, right?

“Keep dreaming, Donghyuck.” You rolled your eyes at him. And he dramatically clutched his chest, making a sad face. Jeno was controlling his laughter, he shook his head.

“I think Mark is outside, go on and check” Jeno gave you his signature eye smile. You beamed at him and rolled your eyes immediately as soon as you settled your eyes on Donghyuck. He only smirked, and you hated how his smirk gives you that questionable effect.

“I will be right back,” You paused. You unleash your confidence from the depths of your system. You raised your chin, you squealed excitingly, “And when I return, I will be having a prom date.” And you strolled away.

Jeno hissed under his breath, “Right, the prom is near,” He trailed then looked at the purple-haired boy beside him, “You got a date already?”

Before Hyuck could even answer, Jeno spoke again, Hyuck closed his mouth. “You have a large fanbase, I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for you to ask for a prom date,”

Donghyuck opened his mouth to speak, but Jeno continued on, “They will be volunteering before you could even ask.”

Donghyuck licked his lips, while glaring at Jeno, “Can I speak?”

Jeno held his nape, grinning at the boy. “Go on.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure you have other things to say. I’m all ears, no interruption.” He said with all sarcasm, giving emphasis to the word ‘interruption’ and rolled his eyes. The other boy laughed at his sassiness. Jeno made a gesture, zippering his lips, and looked at Donghyuck expectantly.

“I already have a prom date.”

Jeno’s eyes widened, his lips forming an ‘o’, “Really? Who?”

Donghyuck chuckled, “The girl who carried a whole ass watermelon around the university.”

You're metaphorical gin and juice. So come on, give me a taste.

“Hi Mark--”

You were stunned when you saw Mark at the hallway. You immediately hid behind the tall lockers. His back is facing you. He had his right hand over his nape and in front of him was a girl— a higher year than you and no doubt, is gorgeous. You sealed your mouth shut, and waited behind the lockers. You hated to pry into other people’s businesses but this was something you couldn’t afford to ignore. It was Mark, for heaven’s sake, and you knew, curiosity would kill you if you choose to leave.

Mark stuttered, “I haven’t prepared a promposal or something,” He let out a breathy laugh. You started to get jealous of the girl he is talking to; Mark never laughed in front of you, let alone to talk to you for a long period of time. The one time he stayed long to talk to you was when he asked you of his parent’s whereabouts. “Do you wanna go to prom with me?”

You peeked. And you wished you hadn't. The girl smiled up at him, and nodded. Mark let out a contented sigh. He leaned in, and planted a loving kiss. You counted, five, ten and lost count. You stood there, aggravated. Being single since birth was hard, and now, you just have witnessed your first love make out with someone who is not you, in a vacant hallway.  This is certainly the first time you’ve felt pain—heartbroken. You wanted to break free and scream at yourself for being so pitiful, crushing and gushing over a guy who obviously doesn’t like you.

Your subconscious is taking over you, there are red flags, yet you still insisted. Mark was a red flag, yet you still chose to dive in. Your vision blurred; tears were attempting to well out like waterfalls. You gulped, your chest tightening. You took a sharp intake of breath and let it out slowly, not making any noise. Your heart is beating rapidly. You tried to divert your attention away; looking at the poorly decorated bulletin board, the announcement posters, Donghyuck’s face that is staring back at you, anything but the two people savouring each other. You were about to return back to the gym when your sneakers squeak when you tried to pivot back. Your sketchers are not giving you a damn break. The two broke their kiss and looked at your frozen figure by the door.

Mark called out. “(Y/N)?”

Oh shit. You furiously wiped your face and patted your cheeks using your right hand. Patting left and right. You hissed when you felt the cold sensation from your fingers. Mark approached your figure, “How long have you been here?”

You faced him. And he blinked in surprise—your face was slightly flushed, your eyes are red; obviously from tears. “Oh, I just got here.” Lies, big girl full of lies.

Mark observed you. You were avoiding his gaze, a thing that you never did when you are in front of him, you were fidgeting, and it is something unfamiliar to him—he knew you were confident and doesn’t get fazed a lot even if you are in front of him (he certainly knows you have a thing for him), and you seemed like you were out of words; desperate even to find the right things to say, he knew you were talkative and take initiative like always. The (Y/N) facing him was a complete opposite of the girl he is used to seeing. He asked you cautiously, “What’s up?”

Your mind went haywire. If this was a regular day, no heartbreaks, not seeing Mark in the hallways kissing a girl that he really likes, not hearing him ask somebody to be his prom date—you would have died on the spot. Since this was a first; Mark took initiative to talk to you. You lied again, words stumbling out of your lips carelessly, “Oh, my mom bought plenty of watermelons and she asked me to give one to you so it wouldn’t go to waste.” You shoved him the watermelon. You never initiated eye contact, because you knew, if you would, you would break down in an instant. Mark’s eyes were so beautiful, mesmerizing even, you would even kill to look at those eyes, to drown into them, to dive into them because his eyes are similar to a book—it is mysterious yet captivating. But in that moment, all you wanted to do was to get the hell out of that hallway and to never look at those tantalizing eyes.

“I gotta go. Bye.” Your tone was cold. It was never the usual; full of enthusiasm and color. You were surprised at your behavior but this was your coping mechanism. Mark was about to say something but you pivoted away from your spot. You pulled the gym’s door, went inside and closed it. The door banging in front of Mark. The door rattling behind you. You snatched the attention of the boys inside the gym, including Donghyuck’s. He stared at you. You forced a smile and waved towards the members of the basketball team. They were oblivious but Donghyuck isn’t. You bit down your lip and walked fast to reach the other end of the gym. At this moment, you wanted to get out of the places Mark could be at. Donghyuck threw his towel towards Renjun and chased after your figure.

Of what it's like to be next to you

“Shorty.” Donghyuck called after you.

“Fuck off.” You spatted bitterly and ignored him once again. You walked past the students in the corridor, you wanted to go home and not to deal with the devil. Heartbreaks are better mended at home, specifically at your room eating sweet and salty foods simultaneously and watching horror movies. Several female students are gushing at the sight of Hyuck— his face, his flushed, sharp jawline, moles that are alive like constellations at night, the body-fitting attire he wore, disheveled violet locks. You made a quick turn, the exit door is already in sight. But Donghyuck had other plans and decided to jeopardize your attempt of sashaying away from school. He yanked your backpack causing you to miss a step and stumble. You were about to yell at him, but his chest crashed in front of you, making you knock out of air. He led you into the janitor’s closet. You took a sharp intake of breath, his scent overflowing your senses. It was a mixture of fresh cinnamon and Calvin Klein. It wasn’t a bad combination; it was rather addicting.

“If you are here to bully me Donghyuck, piss off. I’m not in the fucking mood.”

You squinted in the dark. The janitor’s closet is small. You could even feel Donghyuck’s breathing—it smelled of mint. You tried to focus but Donghyuck’s presence is clouding your system like a resident virus. He leaned in, and you panicked, internally. You didn’t know what to do, or what should you do—your lack of experience with boys are now taking a toll. First, ignoring a red flagged boy named, Mark Lee. Second, dealing with his brother, that you hated so much, he barely even let you breathe. Like the moment you were in.

“You owe me three.”

You furrowed your brows, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Four.”

“What the fuck?”

“Five.”

“You’re seriously a headache Donghyuck. Let me breathe”

“If you say so.”

You were about to leave the crampy closet but Donghyuck’s arm encircled around your waist, securing it to place. He settled his hips so you couldn’t escape easily. He leaned down, once again. Your eyes bulged out, you felt feverish; your cheeks hot, and your pounding heart. You felt a tingling sensation in your stomach—butterflies. You couldn’t think straight. You felt a chilling sensation on your lips. It was soft, plump—and there you realized, Donghyuck leaned in for a kiss. You stayed there, frozen. He pressed his lips further, then breathed onto your lips. It lasted for seconds, it was five. Lee Donghyuck claimed your lips like it was his, for five seconds. Then, he broke the kiss. It was like an enchanting spell, it made you frozen, even dumb.

You acted first without thinking and smacked his chest as hard as you could. Tears coming out of your eyes, biting off your lips, you could even taste a tinge of your own blood.

You croaked out, “I hate you Lee Donghyuck! I told you to let me breathe,” Tears pooled out of your eyes, falling continuously over your cheeks, “Not to fucking steal my first kiss. It is reserved for Mark, you stupid!”

Mark Lee, again.

He shrugged, “You asked me to let you breathe, I did.”

You groaned. “Kissing doesn’t go that way!”

Donghyuck eyed you. And even in the poorly-lit closet, you knew he was giving you his signature, stinky look, as if you said the dumbest thing. “I am your first kiss, and stop acting like you know how these things work.”

“Why did you do that?”

“You cussed at me five times, and you deserve a punishment for that.”

You made a face, “You are so childish, Lee Donghyuck!”

“So are you.”

You huffed. Being frank, you are sure Donghyuck wouldn’t be letting you go, at this moment, especially when he saw you, on the edge of tears and breakdown.

“Tell me what happened.”

Lying to him is an inconvenience. You hated Donghyuck, but you needed someone to talk to, someone to lean on—and this wasn’t the time to be picky.

You tried to control your tears, “I decided to ask Mark to be my date. And It didn’t go well.”

“He rejected you?”

“No, he asked someone.” Tears fell down your cheeks.

“And?”

“I saw him making out in the hallway,” You choked back, “It hurts.”

He shook his head in disappointment, “You are making yourself a clown, (Y/N). You shouldn’t be initiating the first move, you idiot.” You cupped your cheeks, wiping away your tears. 

You tried to defend yourself but Donghyuck cuts you off midway, “Shut up or I will kiss you.”

You sealed your mouth shut.

“Women should be treated like the way queens are treated. With respect, love, genuineness,” he tucked in a piece of hair behind your ear, “And you are a princess, you should be and deserve to be treated as one. You should never settle for less.”

You remained silent. Donghyuck continued.

“Just because you are head over heels to Mark means you should chase his wagging tail and do the things you shouldn’t be doing in the first place. Mark is my brother but he is a jerk,” he exhaled, “Do you know what could be the aftermath of your actions?”

You shook your head, no.

“Mark knew you like him. That’s a giveaway. You are doing things for him because you like him, don’t you? But it won’t apply like Newton’s law of motion, that with every action you do comes with an equal reaction in which you expect him to appreciate all the things you do for him and in return he will give you a chance? It doesn’t work that way, (Y/N). What would happen is, he would just make use of your vulnerability and use it for his own good, for his own benefit,” he paused, “He knew you would do everything for him without protest, and I won’t allow that. Never settle for less, (Y/N). There are other people out there that would love you for who the hell you are. People that would love you, for being, just you” And that is me. Donghyuck wanted to shout those statements in front of you. For you to snap out of your imagination. But he couldn’t do it because he knows, deep down, your heart is still yearning for Mark.

“Why are you saying all of these Donghyuck?”

“You deserved to be treated better, (Y/N). I am saying this for you to wake up. For you to know that you are being treated like shit and you should be aware of it. Being blind to love could be deadly.” And with that, he let go of your waist. He opened the closet and stepped out. You had a clear look of his face—it was unreadable. He offered his hand and you accepted it.

“I’m walking you to your next class.”

“I can walk, Donghyuck.”

“You don’t even know how to reciprocate kisses. I don’t trust you.”

“I hate you!”

You did a lot of firsts with Donghyuck. To be kissed, be shoved in a confined space, to be slapped out of your imagination. That was your first time being with Lee Donghyuck. And as much you hated to admit— you felt surreal.

Won't let one drop go to waste. You're metaphorical gin and juice

“Hyuck, we’ve been searching for you everywhere. Where have you been?”

Donghyuck marched over the gym. His eyes were glinting. His mind is not working properly—but he knew what to do; to kick Mark’s ass. He approached his brother and blew out a strike, right at his jaw.

“What the hell?”

For Donghyuck, when it comes to you, there's no honour, no code. All that matters to him is to punch every single jerk that took you for granted, even if it is his own brother. There was stillness on both sides. The other boys stood there, stunned. If hatred was visible in the air, the gymnasium would have been colored scarlet. Then, Donghyuck took another sudden movement. He attacked Mark with so much force in every punch. Each was powerful with hate and frustration. Donghyuck thought, what the hell did you see in his brother, for you to  risk everything, including your dignity? Donghyuck rained blows onto Mark’s face as if he meant to smash him into the very earth for being such a jackass. Mark tackled the younger’s shirt and he took his momentum to blow a straight blow towards his gut. Frustration eating up the older boy’s system. Each didn't just want the other dead, they just wanted to smash, obliterate each other.

There was blood lingering on Donghyuck’s knuckles and a bruise on his right cheek. Mark’s was way worse. Donghyuck pays revenge like hell, and that is what Mark received. The boys tackled the brothers away from each other. Shouts resonated in the air.

Donghyuck hissed, “You son of a bitch!”

Blood pooled in Mark’s mouth. Donghyuck stumbled backward for a brief second to catch his breath before diving into Mark, his eyes narrowed in determination.

Jeno bellowed, “Donghyuck, enough!”

Mark’s mahogany brown eyes widened. He managed to slip out of Renjun’s grasp and slammed into Donghyuck’s. Stars burst Donghyuck’s vision but he shook it off, blinding, he threw a sloppy kick.

“Mark! Stop! Coach will seriously kick our asses!”

Mark stepped back, easily evading Donghyuck’s kick. "Is it one of your red days, huh?" He crowed, smirking infuriatingly towards his younger brother. Donghyuck growled and attempted to throw himself at his brother, but Jeno had a strong grip on his torso.

Blood hummed in Donghyuck’s veins as determination and anger took over.

“Did you know how heavy that watermelon is?”

Mark made a confused face, “What are you talking about?”

Donghyuck snickered, “Of course, you don’t care. Mind you, Mark,” He spatted his brother’s name with such contempt, “(Y/N) searched for you around the school to fucking find you, and she was even carrying a heavy watermelon for you, you inconsiderate little jerk! She has a scoliosis for fucking sake, and what did you do? Reject her?”

Mark was stunned. “She never mentioned anything to me nor asked me something.”

Donghyuck let out an exasperated laugh, “She was about to ask you for prom. Even got you a gift, your favorite watermelon. But what did you do?” He paused and glared at his brother.

“It was her fault for raising her hopes high.”

Donghyuck furrowed his brows. His brother is indeed a jerk.

“That doesn't give you the right to tear her apart, asshole!”

Mark protested, “What is done, is done already. Quit crying.”

“You inconsiderate cunt! Remember when you were passed out drunk and you had a paper due the next day? Yea, (Y/N) did your paper and saved your dumb ass. At least you could be kind and extend your gratitude towards her and not to dick out.”

Donghyuck marched out. Shoving out of Jeno’s grip.

He paused at the door, taking a glance behind his shoulders, “You’re seriously letting go of a gem, Mark. All of her efforts are going down to waste because you are a jackass.”

All of the downs and the uppers. Keep making love to each other.

“Where have you been, (Y/N)?” 

You stared at the stressed-faced Krystal. 

“Just there”

“Stop lying.”

You told her everything, starting from your failed attempt of asking out Mark for prom, the janitor’s closet with Donghyuck and what he said but you spared the kiss— that thing shouldn’t be disclosed. 

“What Donghyuck said is what I have been telling you repeatedly, and this is the sign that you should just stop. This is all useless, look at you!” Her nostrils flared up, “Don’t settle for guys that screams bag news!”

“He’s not all that bad, Kystal!”

“Stop defending him (Y/N)! Wake up! He is not the guy for you.”

You challenged her, “Who’s the guy for me then?”

“Lee Donghyuck.”

You protested, “What? No!”

Krystal groaned, “Stop being so blind (Y/N). Hyuck has his thing for you and you were just so blind, you keep on ignoring the things he’s been doing for you.”

You furrowed your brows, “All he did was to bully me. He hates me the way I hate him. Period.”

“You’re unbelievable. He would literally go to school early just to escort you to your homeroom. Carry your bag because he is concerned for your back. Waits for you every class just so he knows where the hell you will go. Gives you origami roses. Tell me, is that what you are telling me? Hate? I don’t think so. He doesn’t hate you, (Y/N), there are other guys out there that would die to get your attention.”

“Krystal in the months I have spent here, no one dared to ask me out. Stop exaggerating things. And all Donghyuck does is to bully me, I don’t see the concern there.”

Krystal muttered under her breath. Donghyuck bullies you so you could give him your attention.

A knock interrupted the class. All your classmates scrambled and went back to their perspective places. But no professor entered the room. The president opened the door to see who was the visitor, and she looked at you, a playful smile plastering her lips.

Krystal grinned, “That’s Donghyuck.”

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Mark is looking for you.”

And I'm trying, trying, I'm trying, trying

You blinked at the boy before you. He had cuts and bruises all over his face, his lips are busted, but he is still handsome. You tried to control yourself. He had made out with someone a while ago, and you saw it, clearly, with your two eyes. You hated him, don’t you?

You greeted awkwardly, “Hey Mark, what brought you here?”

“I just wanted to thank you for the watermelon.”

“Oh it’s nothing.”

“No, you had a back problem and I felt bad you had to go through searching for me all over the place.”

You fiddled with your school skirt, “It’s okay Mark. It’s nothing, and besides I have done things that are way out of my league. The watermelon was a piece of cake.” You really did things for Mark. Cheering for him every school game, despite the protests of Krystal that over-cheering could be bad for your throat, yet you still did. Stayed up late to create letters for him, all with exceeding characters and bullshits. Bought him a t-shirt from his favorite brand. Did his homework. Had detention for skipping out classes just to see him perform at the acoustic sessions club. He never recognized your efforts. He would, if he was forced or teased by his friends. And, you were still setting your hopes up.

“Did you come to ask me out for prom?”

You gulped hard. A blush crept to your cheeks. You avoided his eyes and nodded. 

He spoke again, “I have already asked Natalie. But I can dance with you, is that okay?”

You tried to control the twitch of your lips. “Is it okay for you?”

Mark shrugged, “A dance won’t bite,” He gave you a smile, “Just wait for me on the dance floor by ten, and I will meet you there.”

You beamed at him. Your subconscious is yelling at you. You were heartbroken and hated Mark a while ago, but here you are, knees wobbling, falling for him, again. “Thank you Mark.”

Mark just raised his brows at you and left shortly.

You are trying to remove Mark out of your life when you saw him ask out someone. But, he had his spell casted upon you, and with a flicker of his fingers. Mark got you crushing on him again.

Can't keep my hands to myself

After a week, then it was prom. You couldn’t find Donghyuck’s trace— as his existence was wiped out with a flicker. You and Mark started to chat, and got you squealing every beep of your phone.

4:00 p.m | Mark Lee: what’s up?

4:01 p.m | (Y/N) (L/N): preparing for prom ^^ how about you? :D

4:20 p.m | Mark Lee: preparing too.

4:21 p.m | (Y/N) (L/N): Do you believe in love at first sight, Mark? <3333

4:26 p.m | Mark Lee: Yea.

4:27 p.m | (Y/N) (L/N): Should I walk by in front of you again? lololol xD <3 

4:40 p.m | Seen by Mark Lee

You closed the app and re-opened then again. But Mark has left you on read. It’s always like this; he would talk to you and honestly, you experienced back pain from carrying the conversation. No pun intended. He talks so dry and takes a while to reply back. Sometimes, never replying at all.

You mumbled. “I mean he might be busy? Yes, that could be it.”

That was your mantra every time. You told Krystal about it over the phone and she was so mad, you could hear her yelling from the other line. 

Krystal voiced out. “Those are red flags, who the hell would reply minutes late?”

“I mean, he could be doing something.”

“If a guy is interested in you, he won’t let you wait. Even abandon what the hell he would is doing. This is just showing that he isn’t interested at all!”

You pouted, “Stop being so mean.”

“He is not interested in chatting with you because he is talking to his girl, stop dreaming.”

You applied your gloss. “At least he talked to me. I’m happy though.”

Krystal rolled her eyes, “He is doing the bare minimum. Other guys could do better. Honestly, what is with you and your unexplainable attraction towards trashy guys a.k.a Mark Lee?”

You inhaled, “Stop being so harsh.”

“I’m telling the truth. And I am placing my bets, he won’t dance with you.”

You are accustomed to your best friend’s nagging. But couldn’t she just shut up and just support you with all you want to do?

You interjected. Hostility on your tone. “I’m tired of hearing you nag at me Krystal. Could you just let me be? Christ.”

Krystal clicked her tongue, “I warned you (Y/N). Don’t come up to me crying, because I never failed on reminding you that Mark Lee is trash.” And she dropped her phone. 

You heaved a sigh. It seems like you will be attending prom alone, without a date, without your best friend. 

I want it all, no, nothing else

The moment you entered the gymnasium. It was perfect. The interior, the design, everything was immaculate. You approached the assigned table and saw Krystal in her cerulean dress; it was made of tulle and lace, embroidery of blue flowers plastered the overall body of her gown and it had a sweetheart neckline, exposing her milky shoulders. You attempted to apologize at her, but she was giving you the cold shoulder. 

“I am letting you do whatever you want, (Y/N). Go on, chase after Mark.”

“Look, I’m really sorry Krystal.” She didn’t answered you, instead she played games on her phone. Completely ignoring your existence. You frowned as you clutched your rose corsage. It was useless wearing the flower bracelet, this is much better to wear with a partner. IFourth year is coming to an end; and you really wished this could wrap up nicely as you wished. You looked around the dim gym looking for Mark, but he isn’t at sight. You opened the messenger app, clicking on Mark’s chat head, yet he was online three hours ago. You sighed again. You sat there in your prom dress, waiting for the clock to strike ten. The dance was important for you, it was your dream after all. And you were excited to spend your first dance with Mark.

Time is flowing slowly. The principal extended her gratitude towards the student government for being successful with the prom, speeches of the faculty in their matching gowns and suits, the president of the student body organization awarded the winners; prom king and queen, best dressed, darling and dutch of the night. Out of all the awards, you managed to snatch nothing. Donghyuck was awarded the prom king. He stood there like a prince. Wearing a slim fitted suit; maroon; with a patch of gold flowers adorning the sleeves. A red rose corsage sat on the suit pockets. He wore a black oxford shirt underneath; the first three buttons were unbuttoned giving a glimpse of his sun-kissed chest.  A gold chain settled adorning his neck, tracing downward his chest. His violet looks were tamed, his hair was parted in the middle. He was given a sash, and he stood there, as if the awarding ceremony was so boring. He scrutinized the crowd, looking for a familiar figure. The reason why he attended prom, is he wanted to make sure you experience it the way you wanted it. Even if he isn’t included. Seeing you smile, is enough for him. He found your eyes, staring back at him. To Lee Donghyuck, you were so stunning, to him you were his prom queen.

I want it all, no, nothing else

The principal announced.

“This is the last dance. So grab your partner in the middle. No canoodling, I’m watching you.”

Ten o’ clock. Yet, you couldn’t still find Mark. You stood up from your seat, neglecting the sparkling drink served to you a while ago. Krystal’s eyes followed your figure. You stood in the middle of the dance floor. The lights were so dim; adding a cool and romantic ambiance. They played slow and sensual love songs. You stood there dumbfounded, couples are dancing; bodies close, lips connecting. You gulped hard, and continued to search for Mark’s figure. A tap from the shoulder caught your attention. You turned your body so fast, so missed a step, your stiletto clicking across the marbled tiled. Luckily, the person caught your body fast. You stared up, it was the prom king, standing tall, and overall glorious.

You forced a smile, “Prom King.”

“What are you doing here alone? You look like a joke.”

“I know.”

Donghyuck’s lips pressed into a thin line, “Mark?”

He knew by that solemn look on your eyes. He didn’t waited for your response, instead he pulled you away from the dance floor, and led you towards the corridor. At this moment, you lost hope. It was already ten thirty; and you spent thirty minutes standing and looking for Mark’s whereabouts. You are now giving up, your hopes that Mark would reciprocate your feelings is now disappearing. You wanted to cry; for liking a jerk, for acting like a fool, and spending your efforts to the wrong person. Krystal was right, you were just blind and deaf to understand.

Donghyuck held you by the shoulders. He leaned in to catch your eyes. “Do you really want to see Mark?” You nodded slowly. 

He opened the room. It was classroom 402. There wasn’t anything fancy in the room. But you certainly saw Mark with Natalie, passionately kissing. 

You tried to remain composed. You left the room and stood in the hallway. It felt as if heaven played games on you. You’d had enough. You nibbled on your lips, controlling the big waves of sadness from pouring. Donghyuck cupped your cheeks. And you couldn’t hold in anymore, you broke down, cried in your prom dress, soaking Donghyuck’s oxford shirt. He hugged your trembling figure, whispering, “Let it all out, baby.”

Donghyuck planted a kiss on the top of your head. Then, escorted you out of the hallway. He used to love the corridors, but he might as well hate going to it now. He saw the love of his life, cry in the place he used to love.

Oh, I, I want it all

By the time you and Donghyuck returned to the gym, the dance was over. Closing remarks were delivered and the prom is now going to an end. You hadn’t got to dance nor enjoyed the whole event. This will be your memorable prom; being stood up by Mark. Krystal approached your figure and glared immediately at Donghyuck. She hugged you.

“What is it this time Lee Donghyuck?” 

“Woah, chill girly.”

“I swear, I will shave your head!”

You shushed her, “He did nothing wrong. Mark stood me up and I wouldn’t know if he didn’t show me.”

“Oh god. (Y/N), you don't deserve this.”

Donghyuck held you by the hips. And faced your best friend, “I’m escorting her home. She needs to rest.”

Krystal’s demeanor changed, hostility to calmness. She looked at you worriedly, “Rest, okay? Phone me whenever. I will listen.” You gave her a weak smile.

Your prom dress swayed behind as you took each careful stride. Your stilettos click after each step, and your feet are aching. The rose corsage is about to fall, but you couldn’t care more. Donghyuck escorted you to his Volvo P1800. It was a blaring red, vintage, sports car. 

“I never allowed people to ride my baby.”

“Oh. I will start walking then, thanks for the escort.”

“Oh god.”

He yanked your arms and settled you to the passenger seat. He muttered under his breath, “You were lucky, I love you, otherwise I would be kicking you out.”

You gave him a tired glance. “You were saying something Hyuck?”

He settled his arms on the roof of his car and leaned in. You reclined on your seat and held your breath, his face is just centimeters away from you, “I am just muttering how stunning you are,” he trailed and looked at your figure, “in that sparkling dress of yours.”

He offered his hands and you looked at him puzzled. “You’re asking for something?”

He rolled his eyes, “Just give me your damn hand, (Y/N), why are you such a slow poke?”

You protested, “I haven’t been in this situation either! I don’t know what to do!” You gave him your hand and you were surprised that he planted a lingering kiss on your knuckles. His breath fanning your cold skin. You gulped hard. Butterflies crowding your stomach and a blush crept on your cheeks. Lee Donghyuck and his charms.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

He stood up quickly and went for the driver’s seat. He started the engine and it roared to life, the radio hums quietly in the background, and the a/c of the car is set onto the lowest setting. His car zoomed along the familiar neighborhood. The night sky is as alive; the stars twinkling brightly at night, the moon is up there, bright and gorgeous. It was a calming ride, but Donghyuck made a quick turn. The road he is taking is now unfamiliar to you.

“Where are you taking me? Don’t do anything stupid Lee Donghyuck.”

“Trust me.”

It didn't take you both long. He parked his car. He turned on the headlights to the highest setting and twisted the radio to its loudest. Lany’s ILYSB played loudly on his stereos. He jumped out of his car and jogged to your side, opening the door. He knelt suddenly. “What are you doing?”

He leaned in. His lips grazing your ears. “Does your feet hurt?”

You raised your tone. “Kinda. Why?”

He flailed his right hand. “Raise your foot.”

“What for?”

“Stop protesting (Y/N). Is that hard to do? Or do I have to kiss you to shut up?”

“All right, chill.” You raised your right foot. And he removed the straps of your stiletto, one after another. You are now barefooted. 

“What is this Donghyuck?”

Without your heels, Donghyuck is a foot taller than you. He grabbed your hands and pulled you towards the middle. His headlight shining towards both of you. It was blinding but all you could see was Donghyuck's grinning face. He pulled both of your arms and settled it over his shoulders. He started to sway according to the beat. He settled his hands on your hips. You followed his movement. 

“I’ve been waiting for this to happen. To finally have you alone. To dance with you. To look at your pretty face without being scolded out for zoning out too much.”

“You don’t have to do this Donghyuck.”

“Forget about Mark. I beg you (Y/N).”

You breathed, “I will.”

“I will prove to you that I am worthy, (Y/N). Give me a chance.”

That caught you off guard, you almost missed a step. But Donghyuck led you to the right step. “I don’t want people to say that I am using you as a rebound.”

“You don’t have to care about what other people will say. We will take it slow. I will teach you to love yourself first, before you love other people. That’s important.”

Donghyuck danced with you for a good minute. And you were happy that you get to experience dancing with someone, even if it isn’t on the school’s dance floor. You applied lip gloss on your dried lips. Donghyuck watched you intently, eyeing the gloss and your lips. 

“Can I have some?” You looked at him. You nodded and offered him your balm. He looked at you, bewildered, then let out a laugh. He held his face, hiding in his grin, “What did I do to deserve someone like you?”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t asking for your balm. But alright.” Then he leaned in to capture your lips. Stealing your second kiss and having to taste your lip balm. It tasted like strawberries. 

Please like and reblog. Thank you lovelies and take care! <3

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH132

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 132: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XXII)

To be or not to be?

This is really a simple choice.

But at that moment, this choice was extremely difficult.

Qi Leren slowly closed his eyes. He couldn't reveal his emotions. At this moment, his heart was beating so fast that an emotion that could be called ecstasy surged in his mind.

He had a great opportunity.

Originally he didn't even have one in ten thousand possibilities, but now, he did.

He needed acting ability, 200% acting ability, just like when he played Red.

Qi Leren took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.

Those brown eyes revealed the human struggle. He moved his lips, as if he wanted to question Su He about why he did this, but in the end the bitter accusations all turned into a trembling in his eyes. His eyes, his expression, and his shaking fingertips were filled with the desire to live.

For a moment, Su He almost thought he was going to give in, but he shivered suddenly, took a step back, and looked at the closed stone door. He seemed ashamed of his weak will, so he wanted to look in the direction he had come, wanted to escape and ask for help, but he knew that he couldn’t escape his fate. Finally, he only turned around in despair, shame, and helplessness, and looked at Su He again.

They stared at each other for a long time. The Devil's scarlet eyes were only interested in observing the human, while the observed humans had too many emotions, from resistance to struggle, from hesitation to compromise, and finally it turned into deep despair and he began to cry.

Those beautiful brown eyes closed, and when they opened again there was only an empty desire to live.

The Devil smiled and looked at him with encouragement, but he stopped looking at the Devil. He was still suffering for his weakness, so he didn't dare to look at him.

Trembling, he took the first step towards his journey.

Descent begins with this small step.

After this step, there was numbness, compromise, and submission.

He had come to the Devil King, quietly looking at the goblet filled with the Devil’s blood in his hand. If he drank this cup of the Devil's blood he could gain great power, but at the same time would degenerate into a demon.

The human being lured by the Devil King took the goblet with both hands. The blood in the goblet was like wine. He stared at the red liquid his Adam's apple rolled.

The Devil smiled.

The goblet tilted, the glass pressed on his lips, and the bright red liquid was about to catch his lips, but another transparent liquid rolled down from his eyes first. The humble man’s brown eyes gazed at the Devil, wept silently, and silently swallowed the temptation from hell.

The moment the blood flowed into his mouth, the transformation had already started. His brown eyes became scarlet and the devil sigil climbed over his cheek from his earlobe, leaving a thorn-like mark. Black wings sprouted from his back and pierced his clothes. They were as beautiful as a black swan’s, like an angel who had fallen from heaven.

The new demon held the empty goblet in his hand and his blood-red lips parted slightly, looking at his master.

"You look like an naive and innocent lover, beautiful but so enjoyable to see destroyed." The Devil King leaned down, kissed the forehead of his beloved demon in reward, and whispered softly, "From today on, your name is 'Depravity'."

The devil's blood slipped from the new "fallen’s" lips, and the viscous scarlet liquid flowed down his chin and fell to the earth.

At the moment when the blood fell to the ground, a violent explosion engulfed the two people who stood opposite each other, and they vanished in an instant.

　　&&&

In the scenes where reality and illusion were interweaved, countless illusions passed by the two people pitted in combat -  demons crawling in the lava of hell growled, blazing angels falling from heaven prayed, and the holy light and the demonic energy intertwined together, overturning large areas of trees and even distorting this space, making the two people fighting seem to be in another time and space.

The land under the Witch of Jealousy's feet had turned into a burning hell where countless demons hatched from evil and were shot through by the unreal blazing angels one by one. The witch looked at Ning Zhou with red eyes hidden behind he black veiled hat, with a smile on her mouth: "Are you in a hurry? Are you worried? Is it for Qi Leren? I remember him. He gave me my sister's things in the underground palace. He is really a kind and good man. I should thank him..."

"He has a pair of beautiful eyes, brown, but my Lord thinks red eyes are more suitable for him." The Witch of Jealousy’s scarlet eyes flashed, maliciousness pouring out from her painted red lips, "As long as they drink the blood given by my Lord, ordinary human beings can easily become demons just like me and get unimaginable power. You see, you’ve been studying hard in the Holy See for so many years, but I’m tied with you. No one can refuse the temptation of strength, no one.

"He’s going to betray you, poor knight, he’s going to betray you!" The witch laughed madly, shrill laughter with hysteria.

Ning Zhou, who was intercepted by another demon, waved off the giant demon and landed lightly on a rock in the hellish lava. He said coldly to the witch, "You’re jealous."

The witch's laughter came to an abrupt end and the smile that died on her mouth slowly turned into anger: "What do you know?"

At this moment, the Witch of Jealousy perfectly interpreted the appearance of jealousy. She stepped forward on the lava and said sharply in a distorted voice: "You don't know anything! I was so careful, so I walked on the edge of the cliff with every step and climbed out of hell little by little, just to see him again. I tried my best to reach what I am today, but it happened that some people are so lucky that they could easily ascend to heaven. He likes him, praises him, seduces him... Why, why is my Lord so fond of him?!”

The witch's anger triggered the illusion of hell and the lava turned into flames and shot at Ning Zhou. The two knives in Ning Zhou's hands crossed and he stood in front of her, but he rushed past regardless - the magma was split by holy light and his sharp knives passed through the furious lava and appeared in front of Isabel.

The angry witch smiled grimly and raised her sword to stab him.

The angels and demons in the false image collided together and a magnificent disillusionment broke out from them.

Suddenly the boiling magma died down, the shaking earth died down, and even the surging night wind died down.

Among the hills where the Vatican was located, there were only sacred songs and music coming as if from nowhere under the bright starry sky, compassionate and holy.

Blood flowed down the tip of the thin sword, trickling into the fertile soil, and the two people who were so close that there was almost no distance between them stood motionless, then suddenly separated.

The thin sword had pierced Ning Zhou's abdomen, but the short knives had penetrated the witch's chest.

More and more blood flowed down.

Isabel's black veiled hat had fallen to the ground, revealing her dim scarlet eyes. Covering her chest, blood streaming through her fingertips from her beating heart.

She seemed shocked, but the surprise gradually turned into self-mockery and loneliness. A gust of wind blew and she slowly fell down, looking at the night sky with her eyes empty.

"It's too late..." the Witch of Jealousy murmured. "Even if you go there, it's too late. He doesn't belong to you... You’ve lost him..."

Ning Zhou stepped forward and came to her. Blood flowed out from his abdominal wound, but he didn't feel it.

Blood was trickling from Isabel’s mouth. She looked him in the eye and asked dreamily, "Do you know the taste of jealousy?"

The bloody knife hung over her head, and the blood trickled down the blade and fell on her forehead.

The witch looked into his eyes and showed an understanding smile: "Ah, that’s the taste."

The knife fell and pierced the witch's head, and her demon crystal was broken in the holy light.

The demons condensed from rocks disintegrated, and the illusion of the dying demons screamed silently and dissipated in the night sky. The space dominated by the witch was gradually restored to be in line with reality. The ghostly angels stayed in the void for a while, bowed to the broken church on the top of the hill, and then disappeared into the night of the new moon.

Ning Zhou coughed softly, but the movement of the lungs disturbed his abdominal wound, making the blood flow faster. He leaned partially against a half-fallen tree, took a deep breath, and bandaged himself with a straight face.

After only doing the simplest medical treatment, and even having no time to clean up the demon energy that had infected his body through the wound, Ning Zhou hastily put on his clothes and ran towards the church on the top of the hill.

White gauze was quickly dyed red, but Ning Zhou’s training had accustomed him to being injured and he numbly adapted to this degree of pain. He had to go quickly, quickly…

There was an earth-shattering noise and the church on the top of the hill began crumbling.

Ningzhou's footsteps stopped, and his heartbeat seemed to stop with the explosion.

As his chest stuttered, blood gas rolled up from the depths of the throat and Ning Zhou spat out one mouthful of stagnated blood. The pain that he should have been used to was overpowered by the feeling of his heart breaking. He wiped the blood from his mouth, dyeing the silver cross embroidery on his gloves red with blood.

God, if I am guilty, please let all the harsh punishments come on me, even if I have to pay for it in hell for all eternity.

Please, bless him and let him be safe.

-----

The author has something to say:

Although the author thinks that the plot is quite clear, there are still many girls who don't understand it. Simply put: Su He is the Devil of Fraud, male (three years ago, he appeared in the appearance of a woman during the Witchcraft Sacrifice). His status has changed from before, but he was originally a player. There are witches and demons like Isabel under his hand, and there will be other devils/witches acting under others outside. The master of the Witch of Nightmares (the little girl who was like Maria) is not the Devil of Fraud, but the old Devil.

The Nightmare World is equivalent to another real alien world. It is not surprising for either NPCs or human beings to become Devil Kings. For example, it is also possible for someone to aspire to the Holy See and become the Pope after decades of hard work (provided that they are not dead).

At the same level as Su He, there are also the Devil King of Power and the Devil King of Slaughter. The relationship between these three people is not peaceful, and we will talk about it later; It was not them who were killed by Maria, Ning Zhou's mother. It was the old Devil who led the demons to invade the underworld for the first time more than 20 years ago. After he died, it was peaceful for more than 10 years. Three years ago, the text began, and three new Devil Kings led the demons to invade the human world for the second time.

Is it clear =v=

-----

Editor’s Notes: To take this opportunity to clear some things up a bit more, so far “Devil”, “Devil King”, and occasionally “Lord” have been used interchangably, though some devils who are of lower rank will appear in part 2. So among the Devil Kings we have the Devil of Fraud aka Su He, the Devil of Slaughter who was worshipped by the secret society in the previous arc, and the Devil of Power who has yet to appear in any notable capacity. All three of them are currently at the same level but are vying for supremacy, which was why Su He wanted the old Devil’s demon crystal. I would like to also clarify that despite being called Kings, not all of them are men.

Details about the old Devil will become much more clear in part 2, but for now all you need to know is that he was the former supreme ruler of the demons who was killed by Maria. :)

-----

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[herstarburststories]

Meet Me In The Church

Kinktober day 18: Threesome

Suptober day 25: Villain

A/N: I know I'm a couple days late in kinktober, but I'll get there. A Very Supernatural Halloween is here! We are starting with @deanmonandnegansbitch 's request!

Pairings: Michael!Dean x reader, Anael x reader, Michael!Dean x reader x Anael

Warnings: fingering, playing with boobs, violence

“So this is your plan? Just go around destroying things until God shows up?” A strident voice reverberated through the abraded church's walls, causing flinch of yours in response. This place was abandoned, and the maps that Alice, your friend, picked up online didn't mention anything about a room underground. Obviously, that only made you follow the stairs towards the noise. “And then what?”

The response came through a velvet voice, “Even God can die.”

You kept walking, the distinguishing sounds of your friends' laughters being replaced by a louder tone of the two unknown people behind the black door in the end of the stairs. You could see a big crucifix, some word craved in it — an old pray, probably.

You should turn around and call your friends. Maybe even the police. Those people were hiding in a secret room. Not that you and your group were right to break in the old church, but it was for fun and not to plan a murder of God. In the bare minimum, the pair was high, drunk, and wasted.

Yet, you kept walking to the black door. Your legs trembling as if some lasting animal instinct in your body knew that wasn't a good idea. But you wanted to know what was happening, give names to the faces and get a story out of them. Where they actually talking about God or were they using nicknames as a gang? Why they wanted to kill God? What happened to get them to the point of arguing about their plan in a church in the middle of Mexico?

You followed their voices like a sailor would follow a siren cry. You just begged to any holy divinity left in the forgotten church not to let you have the same destiny of the sea men.

You were close enough to hear the loud huff, the woman's next words tangled with incredulity. She laughed like she wasn't able to discern if he was kidding or not. “I thought Lucifer was reckless, but you're literally throwing tantrums to get God's attention and then try kill him.”

“Do not compare me to Lucifer.” He almost howled. Your fingers touched the door, pulling it carefully; you knew those sort of building had many noises. You breached, taling a glance inside the place. The room looked old and dusty, except for the two standing there. A woman and a man, just like you pictured from the voices. You were amazed by their apparency. Tall, beautiful, and dominant. You didn't know why, their postures simply exhaled power. “Pay me some respect. Remember that you didn't pick me, I picked you.” An echo of something being thrown against the wall could be heard next, her body was slammed as she was held by her neck. The mam with a hat didn't seem to care. If anything, the cocky grin on his lips reported his clear amusement. The girl put grabbed his arms, gasping a bit. You couldn't just allow that. “I can easily get another angel to do your job if I find you useless like my brother did. His only mistake was to let you live. Lucifer, always such a sentimental.”

Your dry tongue was capable of pushing a word out of your mouth. It was supposed to come out as a warning when you spread the door open, but the quiet unsteady tone beatrayed you. “Hey!”

Both of them turned to stare at the intruder. He threw her body away with ease, green eyes fixated on you. “It seems like we have a guest.”

“You can't just do that to a woman, you abusive asshole.” You said through your teeth, walking to her and getting on your knees. “Are you okay?”

He rolled his eyes at your worry, but the girl seemed to appreciate it: her glossy eyes by the lack of oxygen were wide as they watched you, mouth slightly open in surprise. Anael wasn't used to kindness of any being towards her. In heaven, she was just another angel. On earth, she was sister Jo, humans were nice to her because they wanted to be cured, and the angels were disgusted by how quickly she manipulated her nature to play among the weaker kind.

But not you... You got yourself in the middle of a argument to assist her. Someone you didn't even know!

Anael couldn't help but welcome the weird sensation through her vessel. She felt shy, but st the same time warm. Was this what being cared about felt like?

“She isn't a human, little one. She's just a weak angel trying to make some sense out of her existence by bring closer to a higher being.” Michael's utterly calm tone brought her back to reality. He scoffed, looking up and down at the both of you. “You're right. That sounds a lot like a human.”

“You are crazy.” You hissed, grabbing the other's arm to help her getting up. Your skins tickled each other together. Your eyes were amiable when observating. “You can come with me. My friends are downstairs, we can take you to the police station.”

“You'd be getting ride of a problem for me.” Despite the disinterest, Michael arched an single eyebrow. You weren't the only curious in the church. He wanted to know more. “But fulfill my curiosity: What are you doing here? Why would you help someone you don't even know?”

“We're leaving.” You said, pulling Anael to go with you. Although she was on her feet, she didn't make a move to walk away with you. “We can keep you good. You don't have to stay here with that crazy.”

She didn't want you to die, the first being that showed her kindness somehow, but she knew better than mess with Michael's ego. Anael had teamed up with Lucifer to keep herself safe. She was a survivor. She could adapt anywhere, in any situation. The angel had to do that here too.

“He isn't crazy. We are angels.” She said, eyes glowing white. You pulled away from her hold with a shocked expression, her human skin almost hurt in response.

“Anael is an angel. I'm Michael, the archangel.” He corrected her, smiling proudly at his title. Michael took steps closer to you. “You didn't answer me.”

His green orbs turned bright blue as he glanced at you. One of his tough hands raising to meet your cheek in a singele touch that didn't seem fitting him, at all. That man looked like danger, still you couldn't stop yourself from leaning into his touch. The magnetic pull of something graceful trapped with his gorgeous being.

“I helped her because I thought she needed help.” You answered. “And I came here with a group of friends. We heard about the abandoned church and just came around.”

Michael nodded, a smuh smile on his plump lips.

“Wrong time, wrong place.”

His hand swiftly went to your neck, trace of goshbumps left behind. Anael knew what was coming next; she could take a couple hints, but you were just a fragile human.

“We could use her!” angel attempted to intervene, hoping Michael wouldn't notice the despair in hee voice. Anael wanted more of the emotions you brought out hee vessel, she wanted to be cared for.

“And have another burden to carry?” Michael huffed, his fingers wrapped around your neck as you watched they speaking. God, how did you allow this to happen? “Anael, I keep you around only to have an eye close to the other angels. Why would a human be useful to me?”

“You think to much.” Anael said, her malicious grin exhibiting a confidence she didn't have. “She could be useful for another things.” Her scooted closer to you two, pressing hee body to your side and biting your ear. You pressed your legs together, trying to contain your arousal. But, how could you? He was marvelous and was holding your neck, and she was pressing her against you as if she wanted to make one out of you two.

“Carnal desires.” Michael stated, considering how your body reacted. Interesting but not peculiar, despite Dean's clear positive noise about it. “I'm not my vessel. I do not require sexual activities all the time.”

Anael managed to pull you to her, while Michael pulled away. “You work so hard to make a better world, Michael. You deserve a break.”

You glared at her breathlessly. All your emotions, all your body were a mess for both the victim and the villain; Anael and Michael. You wanted both.

Anael's lips were tingling as she leaned in, ultimately pressing them against yours. It was sloppy, hurried, and a mess. Obviously her first kiss. But that didn't stop her from grabbing your neck and pushing you against the wall.

She wanted more. Anael invaded your mouth with her tongue, whimpered to your taste. You didn't know how to reach at first, but soon your hands were on her hips. Her chest pressed against yours made you whimper, you could feel every inch of her body.

Michael licked his lips as he watched the scene. Dean's mind has a whole section dedicated to such acts, especially videos including more than one woman. The archangel hadn't seen the appeal until you. You and Anael, two puny creatures, were attacking each other only to make him keep you alive.

Anael pulled away from you, the slick in her panties demonstrating exactly what her vessel wanted, what she wanted. You were not far from that, so you didn't protest when she ripped your shirt off. Good day not to wear a bra.

She let out a whimper, eyes full of adoration when she looked at your boobs. Anael just followed what her body wanted to to, guided by her vessel's memories,— in some of them, the woman that once had control on this body was moaning, squirming even for someone called Yas. She'd moan and whine as her partner played with her breasts. — moving foward, her mouth around your nipple as she sucked it.

You shameful loud scream left your body as your pulled her closer to your chest. You eyes were on Michael, how he watched you both like a predator studying his prey. If Anael was so eager, so rough biting and pulling your boob, you couldn't wait to see how Michael would be.

“Michael—” You whined, the fear of his reaction only soaking your panties more. “Please. I need you too.”

Usually, it was easy to descry his emotion's and Dean's. Dean was often a loyal dog, surrounded by selfless feelings and necessity. Now, though, Michael couldn't tell if it was his vessel or himself that let out a hungry groan at your words. All he knew was that he approached to contemplate the way your expression contoured in pleasure.

Your aura was delivered into delight, beautiful noises that reminded him a lot of his enemies falling left your mouth. Your legs pressed together in a silly try for friction catching his attention. Michael slid his hand inside your panties, fingers in a clandestine meeting with your wetness. It was a pleasant situation for him.

The archangel, just like the angel that had went to taste your other boob, craved for what you could give him. It was almost worship, you offering your body as the ancients did before. Michael put a finger inside you, enamored by how you moaned and moved, how your wetness squeezed his digit so good. He couldn't wait to get his hardening cock there.

But first, he needed to do something else. You seemed worthwhile, but he wasn't one for blind faith anymore. Michael pulled his finger to his mouth, licking it.

You tasted divine.

“No carnal desires? Guess your vessel doesn't agree with you.” Anael pulled away from you to provoke Michael, nodding at the hardness in his pants. You winced in protest.

Michael's answer came as a groan: “Shut up or I won't let you touch her anymore.”

You just wanted them to touch you now, after, and forever. You needed them. You were made to be given to them, you knew it in your bones. And then, they did. And you couldn't ever believe you had actually found a purpose.

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[impala-dreamer]

Wash Me Away

SPN FanFIc

~Being lost in Purgatory with Dean takes a toll on Y/N, but a night of rest might do them both good.~

Dean x Reader, Benny, Mentions of Castiel

2,729 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Purgatory Smangst!. Danger. Romance. Rain.

A/N: This is for my Purgatory!Dean square on @spnkinkbingo​​ 2020 and for my darling @covered-byroses​​ who wanted something about the rain. Hope you all enjoy!

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It had been weeks, a month, maybe, since they woke up there. A month of running for their lives, every second on edge, wondering if they’d be fast enough to escape the next monster, strong enough to fend off the next attack. And there was always another attack.

They got a few hours here and there to rest, but they were on the move now, day and night.

Funny how Purgatory could sustain even a human for days without sleep or food. Perhaps the universe was coddling them, keeping them alive just enough so they could find the portal and escape. Or maybe they were just getting used to it, adapting to their new existence.

Dean was harder here, she noticed. He never laughed anymore, never teased her like he used to. She understood, of course. There was no reason to laugh anymore, not with a thousand fangs aimed at their throats.

Y/N tried to keep some hope, tried to show him a smile whenever he needed one, but the darkness was eating at her too. Hell would probably be nicer, she thought, but then again, she wouldn’t be with Dean.

Maybe he was what was keeping her going. Surely, she’d have given up that first night, succumbed to the monsters in and around her after Castiel abandoned them. But, Dean was there to grab her hand and pull, forcing her feet to run, demanding she keep her shit together. And she did. For him.

It helped that they had a mission. They weren’t just trying to get out, they were trying to find Cas. Some days, trudging behind Dean and Benny, Y/N had to bat away the idea that Cas was already dead. If it took three of them working together to get through the minefield that was Purgatory, how could one lone angel survive? She didn’t like to think like that, but it was hard some days.

Then there was Benny. Part of her was absolutely disgusted that Dean had agreed to let him tag along, to make such a deal with a monster. He was a vampire for fuck’s sake, but she understood, in the end. Dean couldn’t keep her safe and look for Cas at the same time. Still, sometimes she felt Benny’s eyes digging into her and it chilled her Hunter’s spirit to the bones.

There were times when they could go no further, when even Dean’s strong legs started to give out. They would sit beneath a tree or hide behind some strangely arranged pile of boulders. Shelter was sparse, so when they happened upon the cave that night, Y/N nearly cried.

Dean didn’t even protest when Benny insisted they both rest inside for the night while he went on ahead. The area around the cave was clear, and Benny promised to patrol the perimeter while they slept.

It was cold and quiet.

The mouth of the cave was about six feet wide and four feet tall, but it opened up into a room big enough to get comfortable in. Dean took the left side, stretching out his long legs as he sat against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Y/N lay down opposite him, hands like a sorry pillow behind her head as she stared up at the rocky ceiling. There was a bit of pale yellow light coming in from outside, so it wasn’t too dark, and the cracks in the stone gave her something to count and focus on while Sleep ran away.

“This isn’t too bad,” she said, mostly to herself. “Ya know, if we don’t find Cas, we can just hole up here. Maybe excavate a little bit, add some bedrooms, a little kitchen in the back. Could be nice.”

“We’re going to find him,” Dean grumbled, his eyes still closed, lips barely moving. “I’m not living in a cave in this hell hole world.”

Y/N rolled onto her side, head braced by one hand. “Well, technically, this ain’t a hell hole. It’s a purg-hole. That’s a thing I just made up, but anyway.” She held her smile, biting her tongue between her front teeth, but Dean didn’t share her laugh. “Come on, dude,” she said, slapping his boot. “Smile.”

“No.”

“You’ll feel better if you do.”

Dean opened one eye and glared. “How?”

“Because I’ll feel better and that always makes you happy.”

She smiled sadly and he gave in, offering a meager smile that barely lifted his lips.

“See? Thank you.”

She left him alone then, rolling onto her stomach, cursing the world for not packing a sleeping bag before getting blown into another dimension. She should have had her go-bag with her. Would have made things a lot easier.

Thoughts swirled, the silence wrapped around her, and sleep finally came, closing her eyes before she even felt its approach.

She woke to rain.

A faint mist pushed in by a wayward breeze through the cave mouth kissed her eyelids and Y/N stirred, lifting her cheek from her hand and blinking into the dark. Raindrops danced a few feet away, collecting in shallow puddles where the rocks failed to meet in perfect seems.

Suddenly, it was all she ever wanted; the rain, the cool air, the heavy clouds. Her soul ached for it.

“Dean.”

She called to him gently but he was already awake, emerald eyes turned towards the same raindrops.

“Yeah, Y/N/N?” His voice was softer now, calmer after his rest.

“Come with me,” she whispered, lifting up onto her hands and knees.

Dean caught her left wrist as she tried to crawl out of the cave, shaking his head when she turned back, curious. “Don’t. You don’t know what’s out there.”

She sighed. “Benny’s walking the treeline. All that’s out there right now is rain. And I want to feel it on my face, Dean. It’s been too long.”

Her eyes misted over and something inside him gave in. His fingers released their hold on her wrist and he rolled to his knees, following her out.

They didn’t go too far; just a few yards away from the cave, but it felt like miles.

Y/N closed her eyes as she lifted her arms and turned her face to the sky. There was no Heaven up there, not anymore, not where they were, but for a moment, she felt it. Each drop of rain stung her face but she loved every one. It felt good, clean.

The water seeped into their clothes and soaked their hair, rinsing them clean of days of mud and muck. The dried blood on Dean’s cheek faded away and he lifted his hands, scrubbing them down his face with a sigh of relief.

“This feels amazing,” he said, finally cracking a real smile. He closed his eyes and let himself breathe; the first moment’s peace in a long while.

“Yeah.” Y/N’s voice broke, sadness creeping in. She dropped her head and the downpour massaged her neck with pounding pellets that trickled down under her collar. “It is.”

Dean heard her tone change and turned towards her, watching her shiver but not care to move. “What’s wrong?” His voice was tender as he came close; he was afraid for her, worried.

Y/N licked the water from her lips and looked up at him. Her eyes were as wet as anything else, but the reason wasn’t the same. “I don’t know.” She offered a lying smile but he wouldn’t have it.

“Tell me.”

His hand found her cheek.

She sighed deeply, shoulders dropping. “I just wanna stay here and let the rain wash me away.”

Dean pursed his lips, concerned dimples popping as he brushed the water from her cheek with his thumb. “Why?”

Y/N shook her head gently as she spoke. “It’s too much; I’m not gonna make it out here. You know that, Dean.” She took a breath as thunder rolled above them. “You should leave me in the cave. Go find Cas. Go get out of here.”

Dean’s chest burned at the thought; guilt stabbing his heart. “No.” He grabbed her face in both hands, holding her to him, forcing her to meet his eye. “I’m not leaving you, ever.”

Y/N tried to pull away but he refused, keeping her locked there, head in his hands, alone in the rain. He stared her down, hard, unblinking even as water crept into his eyes. His left eyelid trembled and she laughed.

“You’re an idiot,” she yelled, voice weak over the pouring rain.  

Dean smiled and bent his lips to hers. “Yeah, I am.”

They stood there in the downpour, not a single care for the first time in weeks. They kissed until the air between them was too thin, until their mouths filled with rain. Y/N tugged at the lapels of his leather coat and Dean’s hand slid up under her layers to lay on the small of her back. Any time she left for a deep breath, he pulled her closer, that big hand urging her to stay.

“We should go,” she managed after a long while, her breath heavy on his lips.

His eyes fell closed and his mouth reached for her. “No. Please.”

Y/N wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and moaned as he kissed his way across her jaw. “Take me back inside,” she whispered. “I need you.”

He let her go quickly, grabbing her hand as her boots sank into the mud. Together they climbed through the storm back up to the cave, desperate to settle down inside.

They stripped in a fury, no ceremony or tender hands. It was cold suddenly, and the dampness of their clothes was seeping in deep.

There was just enough room for him to stand and Dean used all of it, rushing to her and scooping Y/N into his arms once the sodden fabrics were kicked aside. They should have had a fire, but all they had was each other.

He kissed her harder, passion and desperation driving his tongue roughly between her lips. Y/N held on to his shoulders as he moved her where he wanted, absently walking her back until the stone shocked her skin.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” she laughed, turning her face from Dean’s kiss.

His hands slid around her, long fingers splayed out like a barrier over her back. “I’ll warm you up,” he growled, nipping at her pulse.

His kisses traveled downwards and Y/N ran her hands through his wet hair, sighing blissfully as his mouth closed around her nipple. “That’s pretty good…”

Dropping to his knees, Dean looked up with a smirk. “Oh wait,” he teased, sliding his right hand upwards to part her thighs. “There’s more.”

“I’m sure there is-” A gasp stole her words as Dean’s lips pressed against her pussy. She shuddered and sank down against the cavern wall, opening up for his tongue. He rolled it slowly across her clit, sending every bit of blood and thought straight down to it. She throbbed almost painfully as he fucked her open, fingers and lips working together to draw heavy moans from the back of her throat. She held on, fingers in his hair, hands tugging on his ears.

It had been too long since she had felt him, forever since she’d even had a thought to spare on pleasure, and her nerves were pulsing. Dean lifted her right leg to hook over his shoulder and the new angle gave his tongue more access than Y/N could stand. She shook almost violently as she came, her tight-lipped cry echoing down into the depths of their cave.

Dean pulled away, face shining with her slick juices, lips red and swollen. “Warm enough?” he asked, slowly drawing his tongue across his bottom lip, savoring her taste.

It took a moment for her brain to connect to her mouth, and Y/N took a deep breath as she dropped her leg from his shoulder. “Not quite.” She fell down to his level, knees crashing too hard into the rocky floor. “My turn.”

Her smile was delicious and Dean kissed her hard, humming into her as she ran her hands down his smooth chest.

“That’s nice,” he laughed, breath hitching as she tugged at his nipples. “Fuck.”

He was already hard between them and Y/N took advantage, wrapping one hand firmly around his cock while the other curled around the nape of his neck. She sucked at his lips while she stroked him, watching as the tension and worry melted from his face. Lines faded, his forehead relaxed, shoulders slumped as she worked him gently. When he wobbled, unsteady on his knees, she let him go, crawling over to the pile of damp clothes.

Dean watched in a daze as she lay down, opening her arms to him.

“Come ‘ere.”

He fell down against her, heavy body crushing her beautifully into the stone. He pushed between her legs; thick hips keeping her warm against the cool wind. “Fuck, I missed this.”

His whisper tickled her breast and Y/N cupped his jaw, urging him to look up. “Me too.” She traced his cheek with her fingertips, lightly skimming the slowly healing cut on his cheekbone.

“How?” she asked, suddenly melancholy once more.

Dean rolled against her, his cock pushing up across her slit. “How what?”  

Her body tensed as he nudged at her clit, forcing her eyes to close and her heart to race. “How- how are we even here right now?” She tried to focus on his weight, the heat of him pushing into her, but it was easier to let the pounding rain take her mind away. “Are we dead? Are our bodies back on Earth in pieces all over that lab? I don’t-”

Dean pulled away and locked his arms aside her head. “Do you really want to worry about that right now?”

Y/N let his voice pull her back and she stared into his eyes. He was just as worried, just as sad as she, but Dean was living in the moment. That was all he could handle.

“No,” she said finally, giving him a tiny smile as she cupped his face and pulled him down to her. She kissed away the worry and nibbled at his pain, afraid to let him go even as he pushed up on his knees to bury his thick cock deep inside of her.

They lay in the mouth of the cave, Y/N’s head resting on Dean’s arm like a pillow. He curled himself around her, knees behind hers, nose tucked in the crook of her neck.

The rain had eased to a drizzle and Y/N followed an errant droplet as it raced down the rocks. When it added itself to the puddle by her hand, she pulled it back and fit her hand inside Dean’s.

“You think he’s really out there still?” she asked on the end of a sigh.

“Yeah, I do.” Dean left a final kiss on her shoulder before rolling away. “I have to.”

“We could just leave now, you know.”

Dean pulled his arm away and sat up, reaching for his jeans.

“I love Cas, don’t get me wrong,” she explained, staring at the faint track the raindrop had left on the rocks. “I just...I’m not…”

“Hey.” Dean’s gruff tone pulled her out of the fog and she turned to him. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me?”

Y/N nodded but swallowed hard, fear heavy in her chest. “Yeah.”

“I mean it.” He grabbed her hand between both of his and squeezed. “I have two goals in my life right now. Find Cas and get us all home. I’m not giving up on either and neither are you.”

Emerald shone bright, even in the dark, and Y/N let herself believe him.

Dean dipped his chin to catch her gaze. “OK?”

Y/N smiled softly. “OK.”

He kissed her knuckles quickly and then let her go, pulling the wet denim up to his knees. “Good. Now, let’s get dressed before Benny gets back. I don’t need no bloodsucker peepin’ on my girl.” He winked and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she laughed.

Dean licked his lips and shrugged. “I think we’ve already established that.”

2020 Forever Tags:

@67-chevy-baby​​ @akshi8278​​ @akhuna01​​ @amanda-teaches​​ @because-imma-lady-assface​​ @blondemarvelchick​​ @blushingjared​​ @broiderie​​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​​ @classic-rock-angel​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @covered-byroses​​ @crashdevlin​​ @deansgirl215​​ @deans-baby-momma​​ @deangirl7695​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @deanwinchesterswitch​​ @defenderrosetyler​​  @dolphincliffs​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @flamencodiva​​ @focusonspn​​ @herbologystudent252​​ @heycasbutt​​ @hornyandsmol​​ @ilovefanfic86​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @ilsawasanacrobat​​ @imjustadrummer​​ @impala-1979​​ @joseyrw​​ @justagirlinafandomworld​​ @justcallmeasmodeus​​ @katymacsupernatural​​ @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles​​ @lessons-of-red​​​ @letsby​​ @letsdisneythings​​ @lonewolf471​​ @maddiepants​​ @mariekoukie6661​​ @meganwinchester1999​​ @missjenniferb​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @mummybear​​  @onethirstyunicorn​​ @our-jensen-ackles-love​​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​​ @starboycas​​ @stephaniecanfield96us​​​ @stoneyggirl​​ @squirrelnotsam​​ @thebookisbtr​​ @thehardcoveraddict​​ @thevelvetseries​​ @veevm​​​ @winchestersister55​​​ @wendibird​​ @winecatsandpizza​​ @winterpoohbear​​

[monicawoe]

spn fic masterlist

(updated 5/29/21)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Between Hell and the Hunt - Dean's deal is due, but Sam has found a way to save him. He's made a deal with someone else - someone Lilith can't touch. (2k words, Wild Hunt season 3 AU)

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU.  Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver​)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver​ for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins​ Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes.   (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Best Self - written for @alyndra9​​  for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver​​! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver​ for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester​ who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell:  Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis​ - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean​​ - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.    After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver​ -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960​  - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver​, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver​ AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver​ When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver​ The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver​ Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU  -  Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror) 

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

[nico-demons]

what once were stars

1200 words of contemplative Destiel 

Read on AO3 

General Audiences, no warnings apply

The night is dark but for one lancing ray of bright silvery light beaming through the window, reflected from the sun off the pure white surface of the moon and directly in Castiel’s eyes in one of those miraculous alignments of cosmic geometry.

It pulls him out of an ocean of nothing, darkness, eternity; false death. He gasps for air, turns, presses himself into the familiar warmth of the shape next to him in the bed. Lips on skin on soul the color of nautical twilight. Tangled legs. Dark hair ruffled with dreams. Pillows holding the scent of lavender soap and sea salt.

The sky, in the window, and the gentle rise and fall of waves on a shore behind a door and a room and a door.

He slips out of bed, maybe not as graceful as he once was but no less careful not to disturb the tenuous and precious peace and steps barefoot over weathered wood and a thin woven carpet the colors of the dawn. The door creaks. A little sign hung by a nail on its front side bumps gently with its open and close.

Grass fades into selenic sand fades into sea fades into sky. And in the sky, stars, stretching into eternity, dappling the crests of waves. One continuous celestial painting, him and the sand between his toes and the oceanic breeze in his hair and the sleeping borrowed house behind him and the watching ether.

He’s spent so much of the last twelve years in cities and windowless rooms that his human brain doesn’t immediately recall the last time he saw the stars from this side of the heavens. He knows, though, that he didn’t see it like this— complete, all the pieces clicking together, twinkling lights aligning themselves into constellations.

Looking through the eyes of an angel is like looking at that Seurat painting with the long French name he saw once in a museum in Chicago, and seeing every individual dot, without realizing the meaning of the painting as a whole—not seeing the park, or the ladies in too many layers of fabric in the sun that you just sweat looking at, or the kids, or the anatomically incorrect cat in the foreground. Just dots. Molecules. Pieces of a whole; a whole in pieces.

But now, human, his mind doesn’t perceive irrelevant minutiae, fill up with noise before the symphony comes together. And so, in his relative blindness, it’s more beautiful than it’s ever been.

He does not see God in any of it; he understands now that art is not defined solely by its creator.

“Wishing you were back up there?” He hadn’t heard Dean’s approach. He’s standing just to Cas’s right now, a little uneasy maybe, still learning how to uncoil himself after lifetimes of adapting to ever-present danger, a constant need to spring.

“No. Never.”

Dean crosses his arms, glances at him sidelong. He looks so much healthier these days, Cas notices. He’s been eating a little better, drinking a little less.

“Really? Even on a night like this?”

“Especially on a night like this.” His fingers brush Dean’s elbow. As if in answer, Dean uncrosses his arms to wrap one around him and pull him closer. Because they do that now. Just touch. And when they do, the world doesn’t shift again to wrench them apart.

“Do you know what stars are, Dean?”

“If you say some shit like ‘the dead watching over us,’ you got another thing coming.”

“No. They’re giant flaming balls of gas.”

“So, like Sam.” Dean flashes one of his patented shit-eating kid grins.

“Dean. ”

“Sorry.” He tries to school his expression. Cas feels himself mirroring the upward quirk of his lips.

“What I’m trying to say is… well, they’re not souls. They didn’t really mean anything until humans looked upon them and saw stories within them. Constellations… weren’t really there until humans put them there. I couldn’t see them. Before.”

“But the stars don’t mean anything.”

“But doesn’t it make life that much better to believe that they do?”

Dean takes in a breath.

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he says, after a moment.

“I think it’s an amazing thing about humanity. Your— our — capacity to love anything. Horror movies. Spiky plants. Giant flaming balls of gas trillions of miles away. Each other.”

“Huh. I never really thought about it that way.”

“Why would you? You’ve never known anything else.”

“Well, I was a demon for a little while. But that… mostly just made me tired. At this point, I—” Dean frowns. “I barely remember it, actually.”

“Yes I… suppose I’m adjusting to millions more years of not being human.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “That’s… weird. I didn’t think I had to tell you not to talk about that.”

“This vessel, however, has aged very slowly over the course of the past twelve years, so physically I’m only the equivalent of about forty–”

“You’re making it weirder, shut up.”

Cas grins. He tugs Dean down with him as he sits down in the sand.

His left hand digs into the beach. It’s the soft kind of sand that feels nice running between his fingers.

Dean mumbles something about sand in his pants.

“If I’d been given a choice,” Cas says, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder and turning his eyes back up to the sky, “I’d have chosen this again. I’d have chosen... being able to appreciate… all of this.” He sweeps his hand over the landscape, the ocean, the sky. “I’d choose this… feeling that I get, being able to watch Jack and Claire grow into their own, being friends with Sam and Eileen and Jody and Donna and all the others, and… being with you.” He doesn’t say he suspects this is why he’d started to lose his grace in the first place, that all the things he’d started to feel over the course of however many years pushed out his grace like his body just couldn’t contain them both at once.

It’s a working theory. A conversation for another time, maybe.

“You say the cheesiest shit sometimes, Cas, you know that? What is this, a Netflix romance for teenage girls?” Dean says, but he’s smiling, and Cas can practically feel him holding back something probably even cheesier.

“I seem to recall that you really liked—” Dean cuts his sentence short with a kiss.

“Shh. The universe doesn’t need to know.” He’s got one hand on the back of Cas’s neck, fingers in his hair, holding them together, foreheads touching.

His gaze intensifies, then. “I’m glad you’re… I’m glad you’re okay with this. You know I don’t care whether you’re human or angel or whatever, as long as you’re here. My life is better with you in it.”

“Dean Winchester, you say the cheesiest shit.”

“Asshole.” Then, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.” I love you I love you I love you I love you— it swells up in his chest, a kind of grace of its own. “I love loving you.”

When they come up for air Cas can still make out the smattering of freckles dusting Dean’s cheekbones in hardly more than moonlight.

Constellations.

[fndmxreader]

TITLE :   the end  |  part : one.   PAIRINGS :   broken up dean & cas ( in 2015 timeline ),  established poly!dean x reader x cas in present .   SUMMARY :  zachariah’s battle plan chances,  setting his sights on you, the angel sends you forward in time to 2015 to show you what lies ahead  .  takes place before dean visits .    INSPO :    it was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger, pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker. by eleven smoking herb and drinking burning liquor, never rich so we were out to make that steady figure. 

    "  YOU TAKE ME BACK RIGHT FUCKIN’ NOW,  ZACH “  you had gotten a lead from an a tore up photograph at bobby’s house of where to go,  however as of right now you were very much in the dark  .   the world had changed,  buildings crumbled,   shot up bodies laid out across the surface like an accessory .   so to say you were on edge was the understatement of the century  .  

    “ BUT YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO LEARN “  he doesn’t care,  continuing to read out the paper of the latest headlines,   you were seething with the narcissism and pride that radiated off of him,  it took everything in you not to slam his face against the dash board until blood poured out from his ears  “  you see,  you’re a problem,   getting in the way of dean saying yes  -  you aren’t meant to be here “  your eyebrows crease at the words,  your silence makes him continue  “ so this is to show you,  the longer you be a little pest,  the longer you pretend you actually matter to dean and... castiel “  the name like venom,  the cool exterior of the man fails to cover up the hatred of his brothers name  “ you’re only allowing this to happen,  in a way,  the world like this is your fault “  

    “ BITE ME “  you snapped,  fingers tightening on the steering wheel,  “ you and the whole fuckin’ armored up birds are so full of shi -  “  the fluttering of wings tells you he left,  you don’t even have to look at the passenger seat to feel the absence .  with a pent up frustration,  your fist smashes down on the wheel .  this wasn’t the first time an angel told you that you were in the way,   but it only made you want to stay more,  to push away the insecurities and stay beside your boys and never leave them,  you don’t care if it made you selfish,   you have been so unselfish your entire goddamn life,  put everyone first  :  gave creatures second chances when they don’t deserve it,  offering shelter to those in need no matter what the eyes hide .  for once in your goddamn life,  you’re going to be selfish so unapologetically that it becomes even more of a damn problem  “  put that on the heaven tabloid,  fucker “ you think,  already knowing that zach has your thoughts and movements on display like some lab rat running around in a maze box  . 

    THE DRIVE IS LONG AND LONELY .  the road seems to stretch out for miles,  your heart pounding all the way as you think back to photograph found,  dean and cas looked ... different,  older,  more warn out . it made your chest ache,  2015 certainly wasn’t expected to look like .... this,  even with the apocalypse,  you never dwelled on it too long,  ever trying to ignore the bad endings and simply think of what it would mean to succeed in stopping the apocalypse  .    your so out of it you swerve on the road,   thank god for the desertion,  otherwise a car crash would’ve certainly took place  .       

    YOU PARK THE CAR AWAY FROM CAMP WHEN YOU FINALLY GET THERE .   sneaking around as best you can as to not alert anyone from inside,  almost tripping on the stray tires and busted signs that scattered around the place,  avoiding the tripwires were an absolute chore,  you wounder how you managed it for a full ten minutes before finding an opening at the side .   allowing a sign of relief as you quickly dart towards he bused fence,  though your heart breaks at what you see ...  baby, completely torn apart  -  you know how much dean loved that thing,  by extension,  you couldn’t help but approach like it was your own,  bottom lip turning into a pout and your eyes borderline watering  “ oh,  what happened ?  i bet dean fought this every step of the way - “   you murmured,  hand slowly trailing over the roof of he car,  wincing at the texture of the rust underneath,  but not finding it in you to pull away . 

    YOU INSTANTLY STRAIGHTENED YOUR POSTURE AS YOU HEARD A GUN CLICK,    the cool metal pressed against he back of your head as a deep rumble of a growl hits ears  -  it’s familiar,  you know it,  never been on this side of it however and because of that your blood runs cold,  the hairs on the back of your neck standing as a wave of anxiety causes your arms to shake as you held hem up in surrender  “  actually,  it was deans idea  - “   

    “ ... DEAN “ you breathed out,  you know this isn’t your dean,  you briefly wonder where you are in all this -  your lips feel dry,  you turn around before he can threaten you again  -  you don’t miss the way his eyes widen with shock,  his mouth falling open before jaw tightens  “ THANK GOD,  it’s been a m - “ 

    “ SORRY ABOUT THIS,  DOLL “  he seems conflicted,  and you can’t help but resist the urge to ask when you could finish a damn sentence around here . though you didn’t have time to dwell on it much,  not when the butt of the gun collides with your head and knocks you out in an instant  .  

    YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG YOU’VE BEEN OUT,  but when you come to you wake up in a dimly lit room,  your body locked in several places as you tried to move,  a low whine escaping your mouth in the absolute agony you were in,  the headache,  the body ache,  for a hot minute you think you’re in hell .  though there is one thing for certain,   you don’t need to look around the room to know dean is there,  he isn’t the type to leave a threat unattended,  out like a light or no   “  how lon - why the FUCK does my thigh feel like it’s been blown to shreds -  “   you body catches up to the pain,  eyes shooting open in shock as you did your best to sit up from the scratchy material beneath you .  

    “ COUPLE OF HOURS “   theres a scraping of a chair against the floor,  the floorboards squeaking with his heavy steps  “  'n i shot you while you were out,  salt gun  -  makin’ sure you weren’t a ghost,  done all the other tests too “   he didn’t have to shoot you,  in retrospect dean thinks that it was more for him that he did that  - to see you were real,  that you wouldn’t just vanish .  though you remain in the dark to those thoughts, but it was easy to detect a hint of remorse at the start of his words,  but he quickly closes off as your eyes squinted in his direction,  doing best to breathe evenly to get the pain under control .  

    “ I’D CALL YOU AN ARSEHOLE,  but you were only doing what you gotta,  damn deany ...  y’got an ice pack or something  ? “ 

    “ ENOUGH “ his tone made you jolt,  in both shock and ...  fear ,    suddenly very aware of how dry the back of your throat was,   eyes widening -  you could never handle the people close to you being angry,  you could take it from anyone,  any creature and any person  -  but sam,  dean ... castiel,  it made something inside you flinch  “  WHAT IS THIS,   what are you... ‘type of joke is this ? “  

    “ ZACHARIAH -  some sort of lesson,  i suppose “      “ CALL HIM,  RIGHT NOW “      “ if i could,  i would  -  i don’t wanna be here just as you don’t want me here “ the words hurt to say,  and you could tell that they struck a cord in dean,  though considering the intense pain in your ribs,  you wouldn’t let it eat at you...  not for another couple of minutes at least,  “ what... happened to you ?” 

    THE AIR WAS THICK,  SOMEHOW HE OXYGEN LEFT THE ROOM .  dean has never been more tense,  his eyes hardened but never before has he wanted to reach out to you,  to hold you,  cradle you and never let your timeline get you back .   his icy heart has never been colder,  but with you there he finally feels it beat  .   how does he begin to tell you what your life becomes  ?  him and cas have never been more apart ( basically broken up,  it was all too much ) between your death and sam saying yes to lucifer,  he broke,  collapsed  -   castiel having his break down over becoming mortal certainly didn’t help matters .  it was 2015,  nobody survives and nothing does .   so he gives you the shortened version,  the version where he doesn’t feel like there’s a knife in throat when trying to speak it  .  

    “ LUCIFER HAPPENED,  i didn’t say yes and sam did -   the croatoan virus ran rapid and now i’m just tryna help other people survive this mess “ a mess he feels responsible for,   a mess he wishes he could take back “  that about cover it  ? “  you only nod,   you feel like your head is about to explode with everything going on, you know he’s hiding more things;  but you can’t bring yourself to press it,  not when you’re having such a hard time trying to adapt to the current situation  “   good,  now you’re staying here,  i have to go on a run and the last thing we need is someone freaking out over seeing ...  you, when you’re out on a run “  he quickly adds the last part,  but you know its bullshit,  you can see the way his eyes cast a shadow  -  it seems this dean forgets how much you know him,  but you let it slide  (  he did just admit he thought you were a ghost,  so you can make an educated guess of what the hidden subject was ) .    you slowly raise yourself from the bed as best you can,  hissing at the pain that shoots through you,  blind from pain .  you miss the way dean twitches to help you .  

    “ SERIOUSLY ?  you can’t just keep me locked in a - “  as your eyes trail over his after you finally blink away the mist,  the look on his face makes you pause,  in fact the look he gave you made your features twist of that of a kicked puppy  “  whatever happened here isn’t my fault,  isn’t any of ours .  don’t punish me for the future shit,  i just got here “  it comes out stern,  even with the waver .    you know you break through to him,  but the walls are still there .  

    “ JUST ... “     it comes out as a sigh,  one hand raising to drag across his face, truthfully he just wanted to get away and fully register the situation at hand,  however to do that he had to get away  -  and by extension,  hide you so he doesn’t have to deal with questions about the situation before being ready  “ stop being stubborn -  “  turning to walk out of the door,  allowing a smile to cross his features as you utter  “says the most stubborn person on the planet.” 

[nad-zeta]

Match up! ~(˘▾˘~)

Can I get a matchup? I’m 5'4 chubby pansexual girl. I have brown skin, dark brown eyes and short black curly hair that’s puffy and in a Afro when it’s out.I like cooking,singing, animals, video games, cuddles, hugs, playing with people’s hair and people playing with my hair. When you first meet me I may look mean but I’m kind, caring, goofy and sassy. I’m only mean when you mess with me, my family or friends. I’m a calm and laid back person but sometimes I can get mad easy but a hug calm me down.I’m a affectionate person and I don’t know why but I like the nickname babygirl.In my free time I like to read, listen to music and play with. I don’t like drama and fighting but I will fight if I have to. For some reason it’s seems like I’m always smiling sometimes I don’t know I’m smiling until somebody point it out.I like watching horror movies and playing horror games since I’m chubby Im really warm.

I really love your matchups you are a good writer☺️

Eeeep! 😱😱☺You are too kind!❤❤☺ Thank you so much for the kind words and the request dear. Also sorry for taking like 1 million years to get this written! I hope you enjoy it love and I hope you have a super good day! ❤❤🌻🦋

So I match you with…………….. Shingen

Naturally the first time Shingen laid eye on you, was when Yuki had saved you from plummeting to your death the night of the fire. You had ran and ran and ran to get away from Nobunaga and Hideyoshi, who spooked you by demanding to know who you were, and where you were from. Shingen spotted Yuki saving you from falling off the cliff and rode towards the two of you to make sure you guys were alright.

The second this man saw you he fell in love. You were unlike any woman he had ever seen before, the way you seemed to glow in the light of the full moon, had him absolutely speechless. Honestly, he thought, you must have been some sort of celestial being, with the way you shined. 

He walked up to you and kissed your hand as he introduced himself. Your expression was taut, and Yuki couldn’t help but be slightly intimidated by your features, “Careful my lord, she looks mean.” Of course, that comment from the young man earned him a stony glare from you, which sent shivers down his spine. 

Kenshin and Sasuke broke up the party as they arrived and the second Sasuke spotted you he sighed in relief, he had been looking for you for over four years. Before he could even offer you a place to stay, Shingen beat him to it. And that my friend is how you landed up in Kasugayama castle.

Shingen made sure to put you in a room fit for a princess, and he spent your first day at the castle showering you with gifts and trinkets. You honestly was so overwhelmed by the Kasugayama boys warm welcome, that you wanted to do something nice for them, to thank them. So you used your talents, to cook them each their favourite dishes to say thank you for the warm welcome. You made your way to Sasuke the next morning to ask him about all the warlords favourite foods so that you could start making your thank you gifts. You had decided to bestow it upon them at that evening’s banquet.

Sasuke smiled as you chartered down a list of everyone’s favourite snacks, and you got to work.

You had been in Kasugayama all of one week, and you really wanted to make Shingen’s dish extra special, as he had been the one who had most helped you to adapt to the castle life. He took time out of his schedule every day to show you around the castle and town. He would also pop into your room every day to enjoy a cup of tea with you. 

That night at the banquet, Kenshin was getting rowdy as he usually does, insisting the boys fight him. You honestly disliked fighting and drama, so you decided to defuse the situation by handing out your special gifts. You started with Kenshin handing him a big jar of freshly made pickled plums. His eyes sparkled as he plucked one from the jar to prop it into his mouth. The bunny warlord was now sitting in his corner, happily munching away at the pickled treats. You couldn’t help but giggle, as the way he was stuffing his cheeks made him look like a cute bunny. 

Next was Sasuke and Yukimura, you had found out that they both really enjoyed chestnut dumplings, so you handed them each a plate stacked high with the sugary delights. When it came to Yoshimoto, you were somewhat stumped as Sasuke had told you that he liked all foods that are delicious. So in the end you had decided to make for him your classic homemade stew, which he happily ate, all while wearing that elegant smile. 

Finally you turned to Shingen, whose brown eyes lit up in excitement as you handed him a hefty package. He opened it and was awestruck at the array of sweets you had managed to prepared for him. Eyeing Yuki, he took you by the hand and led you to his room, so that he could peacefully munch on his candy without Yuki scolding him in the background. “You truly bless me, my goddess, I shall savour every bite of these heavenly treats.” The two of you sat, and nibbled on the sweets, while sipping on some tea as you chatted late into the evening under the light of the moon.

Needless to say, Shingen was already head over heels for you, from the first night the two of you met, however, every detail he learned about you just made him fall more and more in love. He loved how you were the kindest person he has ever met. 

He loves how goofy and sassy you are, being able to easily match his wit and charm with your own. He can’t help but chuckle whenever you counter his flirty comments with a sassy remark. And he absolutely adores your goofy side. And he realises quickly that after just spending one afternoon with you, that he has never smiled and laughed as much in his whole life. You bring so much joy and love into his life; and he can’t help but fall in love.

And just when Shingen thought that he possibly couldn’t fall more in love with you, you just had to go and melt his heart into a puddle of pure happiness. It was no secret that you loved animals. You had taken up the duties of official Kasugayama animal caretaker. You would spend hours just playing with the warlord’s pets. If you weren’t cuddling with Kenshin’s army of fluff, you were playing fetch with Yukimura’s wolf pup. However, your favourite pet of all, to spend time with, was Shingen’s bear cub, which you had half and half adopted as your own pet. The little bear absolutely adored you and could often be found nestled on your lap enjoying the attention of you petting his soft fur as you read. 

One day as you were reading to the little bear, a song popped in your head, and you started sing. At that exact moment, Shingen had walked by your room, and his heart was stolen, your voice was so smooth and beautiful. HE swore he had died and gone to heaven at the moment, hearing your angelic voice sing. It was then when he couldn’t hold back his feeling for you in any longer. He made his way into the room and told you just how much he loves and adore you.

The two of you were the cuddliest couple around. As Shingen absolutely loved to just hold you in his arms. You were so warm and soft, and all he wanted to do is shower you with kisses and worship you from dusk to dawn.

He loves to just spend every waking moment with his goddess. Of course, since the two of you got together, you let it slip that you loved being called baby girl. And boy oh boy, did he like that nickname, he legit would call you that, from that moment on wards. 

He loves that you are always smiling, you are just so carefree and laidback. He can’t help but think of you as his own personal ray of sunshine, always beaming and making every room instantly brighter whenever you enter.

Of course, Shingen being the sneaky tiger he is, loves to tease his beloved goddess, which sometimes causes you to get mad at him. Although Shingen being the master of information, knows precisely how to get you to stop being mad at him, or out of any angry mood really. He will come up behind you and envelop you in a warm hug while kissing your ear and neck, all while whispering the sweetest words of affection to you, as he apologizes for teasing you. Of course, this causes you to instantly melt.

Shingen loves to spoil you. Whether that is with gifts or physical affection, this man just wants to shower you with endless amounts of love and affection. He absolutely loves to play with your hair. He can honestly spend hours upon hours just pulling his fingers through your lushes locks. If you want to make this man the happiest man alive, then play with his hair. He loves loves loves, it whenever you see him overworking himself, when you come up behind him and hug him. Bonus points if you gently pull him down to rest his head on your lap. He will practically be purring in delight as you tenderly pull your fingers through his hair while singing or reading to him. He will be like putty in your hands.

With Shingen, there is never a shortage of cuddles and hugs, this man will literally pull you into a warm embrace and shower your face with kisses whenever the two of you run into each other in the hallways

Often the two of you lovebirds can be found nestled in each other’s arms, under the light of the moon, sharing a drink. One of you is most likely always playing with the other’s hair as you share the events of your days with each other.

Other potential matches………… Masamune

I hope you enjoyed this, dear! 😳☺And I hope you have a super good day! @blackchubbyqueen ☺🌻❤🌻