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jawritter · 4 years

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Happy Halloween

Summary: It’s Daddy’s favorite holiday. So what’s a good girl gonna do, but let him blow off some steam after a successful hunt?

Warnings: Daddy kink, hair pulling, consensual name calling, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader, spanking, light edging, orgasm control, language, rough sex, oral (male receiving), mouth fucking, hint of a pain kink maybe? I think that’s about it. This is just porn with a crack ass plot. I’m not sorry lol.

Word Count: 3092

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: You guys ask for some Daddy!Dean for Kinktober? Well, who can say no to that? This fic was beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

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Dean had always been the aggressive sort. He didn’t take shit from very many people, and if you were one of those who he did take it from, you counted yourself as lucky. He’d even gone off on Sam more than once, and Sam could get away with more than most.

It was one of the side effects of dealing with the life that you all were thrust into when you were just children. Your father had been hunting partners with John for years, off and on, when you were children, so you had known the Winchesters for a very long time, long enough to know you did NOT push your luck with the eldest Winchester.

Even though Dean was always hard in a sense, there was a time when he wasn’t as hard as he is today. Back then, the hardest thing he had to do in his life was impress John Winchester, and that had been more challenging than any monster he’d ever faced.

Life was as simple then. A vamps nest, the occasional Djinn.You killed the monsters, you saved a few lives. That time was long gone for the both of you. John's death had opened up a whole new world of monsters, demons and dick angels. Things that you weren’t prepared for, and neither was Dean. Dean spent what was only four months to you, but was forty years to him in Hell. Literal Hell. Sam jumped in the cage with Lucifer. Life became a downward spiral that just went on and on, until you found yourselves here today.

God had it in for you.The son of Lucifer was dressed as the Devil, courtesy of Dean’s twisted amusement, in the backseat of the Impala he’d deemed “Baby” years ago. You were on your way to a Halloween party that was expected to go south thanks to one of those rare simple vamps nest your unconventional group had been investigating.

“Dean, I don’t know about this,” Jack said, looking at his own reflection in the rearview mirror where he caught the look of Dean's amused gaze. The red paint on the boys face was a little much in your opinion, but hey, you weren’t in charge of this shitshow, so you decided to keep your trap fucking shut.

“It’s simple Jack,” Dean said.You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, and you were determined to look dead ahead of you, and not in the backseat where you would probably die laughing. “You go to the party, just stand back, watch, find a chick maybe. I don’t give a fuck, but just make sure that no vamp gets inside that fucking house until Y/N and I can take care of the mother fuckers. If one does show itself, lure it out to us, and we will take care of it.”

Dean made it sound so simple, and you could only imagine how nervous Jack was. He didn’t have the conventional upbringing of most people as it was. Technically, he wasn’t even 12 yet, he was just advanced because of his race, and somethings just didn’t come quite so naturally to Jack as Dean had thought that it should. That, or Dean just didn’t give a shit, because he was never really going to forgive him for Mary’s death. He just wasn’t.

“You will be fine Jack. Just keep a low profile, and watch out for vamps. Dean and I can take care of the rest,” you told him in what you hoped was an encouraging tone. “This will be a piece of cake, and we will be back at the hotel before you know it.”

Jack fell quiet as he looked at the landscape flying past the backseat window, and your eyes trailed Dean's still amused face as he drove down the farm road to the old ranch house the teenagers were attending for tonight's festivities.

Dean loved Halloween. It was one of the only holidays that he really did enjoy. Sam, on the other hand? Well, Sam hated it, and when Dean found this case, Sam decided to stay behind with Eileen while you, Dean, Jack took care of this small little case that was only three states over.

Dean had tried to convince you to dress up for the occasion, but quickly changed his mind when you told him that there was not a chance in hell you could hide a machete in the slutty nurse costume he’d picked out for you. That’s how the plan to dress Jack up , and place him in the party watching the party goers was born.

You and Dean had a history.That history had started when he’d taken your virginity when you were only 18 years old. Every time you got a chance after that, you found yourselves between the sheets, in the back seat, and against the walls of bars in dark alleyways. Dean had a “healthy appetite”, and even in his forties he still carried the stamina of a horny teenage boy. You weren’t complaining either.

Somewhere around thirty, he’d discovered his Dom fetish, and that literally fucking ruined all other men for you. You should have known Dean’s “take no shit” attitude would have translated over into the bedroom eventually. It was the one place he could have complete control, and the one place he could let off steam with someone he trusted.That someone was you.

Since tonight was his favorite holiday, you had decided when this small little hunt was over, Dean would get to see you in that slutty nurse costume he’d wanted you to wear so bad. After all, daddy always gets what he wants, and that’s why you had jumped up and suggested the kid get his own room.

You watched the sky turn dark as Dean speed towards the party and the hunt, your mind on just what Dean was going to say when he discovered you had kept the costume.

Three hours later, you found yourself standing in the hotel room that you and Dean would be sharing for the night, staring down at the nurse’s outfit on the bed before quickly sliding the towel that was covering your body to the floor, and picking up the costume. You only had a few minutes before Dean would be done with his shower, and he’d already ordered you to be in position when he returned to the room. He just didn’t know about the costume.

Dean was usually in a good mood after a good hunt, and this hunt was the first easy thing they’d done in a long time, so therefore Dean was in a very good mood.

You had just slipped the last strap over your shoulder, and got into the kneeling position on the bed that he required you to be in when waiting for him, when you heard the shower cut off, and the door to the bathroom open.

The room was dark.The only light that came into the room was coming from the bathroom and it flooded the small room as Dean rounded the corner to see his prize. Judging from the predatory growling sound he made when he saw you waiting for him, he was very pleased, but you knew better than to look up from your submissive stance and make eye contact without permission. Dean wasn’t going to take your shit, and you wanted to cum tonight. Slick already gathered itself between your spread thighs in anticipation of what was to come, and Dean hadn’t even laid a hand on you yet.

Dean’s eyes shamelessly raked over you as he made his way towards the bed.You could feel his piercing gaze, even though you couldn’t see it, and you waited with bated breath for Dean’s approval, which came in the form of the Dean’s rough thumb reaching out, and running across your red painted lips. You reached your tongue out and swept over the tip of his thumb, twirling it around this thick digit as if it were his cock before sucking it into your mouth, and letting it go with a pop.

Dean groaned at the sensation as he watched your lips around his thumb, and his dick twitched in interest as his eyes roamed the barely there costume that you were wearing for him.

“Such a good little slut, waiting for Daddy, all dressed up so pretty,” Dean said, his rough voice causing a shiver to visibly roll through your body, and land in your already aching cunt.

Dean chuckled at the reaction and he brushed his fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear to get a better view of your face. It was a move that was almost too intimate for what was to come, but it was his way of asking you if you trusted him and you did.You trusted Dean with your life.

When he noticed you lean into his touch, it was the only permission he seemed to need. That and the high adrenaline made him more impatient than what he would have normally been . His large hand fisted your hair almost painfully as he jerked your eyes up to meet his darkened gaze. His bare chest and body was on display for you, as his hard length twitched on its own from it’s proud position. A bead of precum was already forming at the tip, and you licked your lips as you watched it bob there. He needed this. He needed this just as much as you did tonight, and damn, you wanted to taste him so bad.

His eyes followed your gaze, and if you would have not forgone the underwear you were sure that the smirk he gave you would have melted them clean off your already overly heated body.

“What is it, sweetheart? Daddy’s little cock slut wants to have a taste before I ruin that pretty little pussy of yours tonight?”

The needy wine that left you lips wasn’t the answer Dean was looking for, so he gripped your hair impossibly tighter, and growled as he looked down at your form as you all but squirmed underneath him.

“Use your words. I want to hear you beg for it,’ Dean said, lowering his face so close to your own that his lips brushed yours with every word, and his whiskey kissed breath fanned warm over your skin.

“Please Daddy, please let me suck your cock, I’ll be a good girl, please let me taste you,” you begged him in a small voice that surprised even you. Dean’s mouth meet yours in a clash of lips, tongue and teeth that ended with his perfectly straight teeth sinking into your lower lips before he pulled away to soon, leaving you breathless and at his mercy, his grip still tight in your hair as he guided you to his impressive length before tapping your mouth with his swollen tip.

Reaching out with your tongue you lick softly at his dripping slit. The salty taste of his precome filled your mouth, and you moaned as he gave your hair a sharp jerk, sending the jolt from your scalp to your pussy, that was literally dripping down your leg onto the already stained bed sheets under you.

“No teasing, Bitch,” Dean spat, his teeth gritted against the shiver of anticipation that rolled through his own spine. “Hands behind your back, you know the rules. No touching yourself. I’m gonna fuck that filthy little mouth, and then I’m going to split open that pretty little cunt.”

As ordered, you opened your mouth and Dean pressed himself into your waiting lips. You sucked at him as he slowly pressed himself into your open mouth. Your tongue ran along the vein under this shaft as he adjusted to the feeling of your mouth around him, stopping when the tip touched the back of your throat with a grunt, his teeth biting into his own lip.

Your fingers dug into your palms as arousal coursed through your body with renewed fervor. Dean’s cock laying heavy on your tongue as you gulped in oxygen. You knew that would be the last easy breath until he was satisfied with your mouth as his eyes locked with your own.

“Eyes on me pretty girl,” he commanded as he started to thrust himself slowly in and out of your mouth. “I want to see the look on your face when you choke on my dick.”

Giving him a hard suck in response, Dean started to fuck your mouth with harsh thurst as you tired desperately to relax your throat and hollow out your checks to take all that he was giving you. Your cunt pulsed with every thrust of his hardness into your mouth, and it was all you could do to keep your hands behind your back, and not give yourself the relief you so desperately needed. The only balance you were able to maintain was on your knees, and Dean’s hand still pulled your hair tight as he fucked himself into your mouth over and over again.

You did all you could to keep your eyes on him as your throat contracted around his tip as it assaulted you over and over again. Tears were streaming down your face, and your lipstick was ruined as drool dripped from your mouth, but you dared not break eye contact with Dean.

He was beautiful when he lost control like this. His green eyes rolled in pleasure every so often. The vein he loved to let you bite showing in his throat as he strained to keep from spilling into your mouth.

“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself. Taking my cock so good baby girl.”

You moaned desperately around his length at his praises and he shivered above you, his pace faltering as he pulled himself from your mouth just before he could fall over the edge.You gasped desperately for air as he let go of your hair, and you fell down to your hands and knees on the mattress and he positioned himself behind you.

A hard smack to your ass caused you to whimper as you felt him slide his thick cock through your slick, not entering you, just teasing your throbbing clit with his tip, his fingers leaving delicious little bruises as his large hands held you in place.

“Look at you,” he moaned as your warmth edged around him just enough to make him nearly lose it right there on the bed sheets. “So wet, so needy.” Another harsh smack to the other cheek made you jump and a scream left your lips as frustration and arousal created the needful ache between your legs. Dean’s slow thrusts against your clit pulled you to the edge, but never let you fall over. “What do you want? Tell me.Tell Daddy what you need.”

“Please Daddy, please, I need you, need your cock, please,” you begged him, and he moaned behind you as his hand ran up your back, over your barely there costume, and into your hair again, giving it a hard jerk as his tip breached you, waiting for heat. “Then take it, slut.”

That was all the warning you got before Dean was pounding you almost flat on your stomach, each thrust hitting your G-spot with mapped out precision.You were a screaming, moaning mess as he pounded you into oblivion.

“That’s it, baby,” Dean said, smacking your ass and never losing pace as each swat of his large hand made you moan, and your pussy spasm around his length. “You better not cum yet bitch! If you do, you know it will be the last time for a week. Do you understand?”

You moaned as you fought against the orgasm that had you shaking on the edge of delirium, and Dean gave your hair a hard pull, bring your back up to his chest, ripping your top down so that your tits flopped freely as he continued to pound into your ruined pussy, giving your exposed tits a harsh twist to get your attention. “Use your words Y/N, or I’m stopping, and I’ll finish myself off while you watch.”

You knew he’d do it. He’d done it before, and Dean didn’t take shit from you, or anyone else, and he wasn’t afraid to take care of himself, and leave you waiting.

“Yes Daddy, I understand,” you squealed as his fingers dug into your hips, his hand never letting go of your hair.

“Good girl, such a good girl for Daddy,” he said as he picked up pace, until his hips started to stutter after what felt like an eternity, your own body buzzing as the orgasm you’d been holding off was becoming almost painful.

“Touch yourself baby, I want to feel you come on my cock,” Dean said, his voice strained as he raced to his own end.

Your hand traveled down your still costume clad body, and to your swollen aching clit, matching his pace in rough circles.

It didn’t even take a full minute before your pussy clamped down around his pulsing cock, and your orgasm rocketed through your body as he spilled deep inside of you. Dean pulled you both up as your bodies seized around one another, until he was able to remove his softening length from your body, and lay you gently down on the bed.

Your body was still quaking slightly when you finally came back to yourself, as Dean cleaned the mess up between your legs before helping you out of your costume in silence. You watched as Dean crawled over you body, and pressed a sweet kiss to your swollen lips before cleaning the lipstick off your face.

“You okay?” he asked as your eyes met his. There was your Dean again, always worried, always concerned for someone else above himself. Even in this aspect of your relationship, he was always the nurturer that you had fallen in love with under that rough exterior so long ago.

“I’m good Dean,” you tell him as his lips pecked at your own again, and he lay down next to you to pull your exhausted body against his own, tucking the covers in around you.

Maybe one day you’d tell each other you loved each other, but not today, for now this would be enough.

“Happy Halloween Daddy,” you told him, feeling him chuckle behind you, before his teeth bit playfully into your shoulder, leaving his mark on your skin.

“Happy Halloween Baby Girl.”

Forever Tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @rain-dance-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6

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nanoland · 3 years

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new chapter (lucifer fic)

(earlier parts are here; whole thing is here)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 3

Mazikeen + Eve + Michael, gen fic (for now), warning for gun violence

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #eve #michael demiurgos #demons #lucifer morningstar #amenadiel #michael #fanfic #my fic

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obeymeluv · 4 years

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Random Spooky Thing

Something spooky I thought about. I don’t know what really got me thinking about it besides spooky season and the fact that the boys are 5,000+ years old and have probably made secret friends/lovers with a few non-RAD humans over the years.

This is pre-RAD program, post-fall. Boys are still probably at odds with their new demon instincts or have just barely settled into them.

Trigger warning for scary situation. Namely: almost being a legit sacrifice for a demon summoning.

I also have personal headcanons that the bros used to be Avatars in heaven, but for the trait opposite of their sin (Lucifer would be humility, Mammon would be charity/giving, Asmodeus would be love (I guess?), Satan doesn’t count because I don’t think he was in the Celestial Realm when it all happened (based on where I’m at in the game). Beel championed a good harvest/abundance. and Belphegor had the blessing of reinforcement/encouragement/inspiration/productivity)

Lucifer’s got unexpectedly long so this part will have Lucifer and Mammon only. I have to study for exams and stuff TT_TT

Lucifer:

The concept of being summoned by dark magic is very foreign and forceful. He hates it, and he hates that this is what his life is now

There was a certain beseeching vulnerability to humans when they prayed - it was soft and glowing and he misses it

This is a rough yank, like he’s nothing more than a petulant child that needs to be dragged around. Or worse, some dog.

He spills out into the human world and it smells of smoke and brimstone and ground ingredients he’s starting to get familiar with

Lucifer’s used to being intimidating in an angelic way, but he can feel the magic spill off of him here. He can feel his aura manifest into something dark and terrifying.

His eyes now glow in the dark; he can see a reflection of them in the humans’ eyes.

They give a very archaic, overdone address (”O’ great Lucifer...”) and he doesn’t even let them finish before he’s scoffing.

The fall may have broken his wings and shattered his reality, but he’s still fairly arrogant and ready to lash out

There’s a beautiful smell that makes his stomach ache something ungodly now that he’s a demon, and Lucifer realizes with abject horror that a wounded human is somewhere in this room

Celestial Realm or not, his eyes still have the ability to see human souls and intentions. There seems to be a lamb among these idiotic wolves

He sees that dagger rise, the muffled wail enough to pierce his ear and Lucifer snarls as he snatches that hilt in an iron grip

It’s enough to break the human’s grip and send his hands down the dagger, spilling rancid blood

“If you wish to summon me, do it with your own blood. Lay yourself before me and beg.” he says in a voice that is so grating and booming that it makes him flinch a little

His voice was never like this in the Celestial Realm and it makes him angry that it will never be angelically velvety again. Just something semi-twisted and possible of corruption

Perhaps because of the blood or the injustice, Lucifer throws out his wings and punishes the mortal for their insolence. Then the others who try to dogpile him and throw their books at him and shout words that have no meaning.

His grip now crushes things, and he forgets. Pinching is basically stabbing. A shove is basically a fracture.

You’re sobbing uncontrollably when he approaches where you’re being held and Lucifer realizes that he looks a sight. Truly frightening. He never had these murderous impulses as an angel and still surprises himself when he falls to them. They’re still so new!

“Be not afraid,” the words are comforting but fuzzy. They feel foreign on his tongue. He pets your hair. “I shall do you no harm.”

He has to remind himself that he’s so much stronger in this form, tugging and ripping at the rope while trying not to break your little limbs.

You have this resigned trust, this hope, this faith that he will keep his word and it makes him miss humans. Makes him miss Lilith and how he’d catch her and Belphie sneaking around to watch them.

You ask him if he’s really Lucifer, like that Lucifer. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is. Instead he says, “I am the Morning Star.” and insists on taking you home.

He will guide you home, the bringer of light.

You hug him and it’s the first burst of warmth--genuine warmth--he’s felt since the fall. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

He’s called back by a greater force--Lord Diavolo--and prefers to forget the whole thing happened. That he ate people. That they almost hurt you.

He secretly checks in on you from time to time but doesn’t have the courage to talk to you again.

Every time he looks at you, he’s emotionally drained for the rest of the day. He’s starting to understand what Lilith felt so strongly about and it just makes that gaping wound that much deeper.

He drowns his guilt in Demonus and damns his hypocrisy.

Mammon

He hates being summoned because it burns like when he fell

It reminds him of his body screaming in pain as he adamantly tried to hold onto his Holy Weapons during the fall. His body converted during the fall and Holy Weapons are sheer agony for demons.

The burns on his hands were deep and tender and took days to heal. He doesn’t even remember how he broke his wing, but he knows it drags and its lame. It can’t unfold as well as the other one.

Being summoned just leaves a bad taste in his mouth because he disagrees with being cast out, in general. Seems like some of those angels were morally corrupt, not them! How could what he and the others did be considered wrong?!

Mammon hates the fact that turning into a demon really ripped the veil off his eyes. He used to be a symbol of charity and giving, bringing joy to people, and now he just sees how nasty they are on the inside. Scummy, scummy people.

“What’s your business with the GREAT Mammon, hm? I’m a busy guy, ya know.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets as he looks disinterestedly around the room.

Dull souls, the lot of ‘em. Not a nice smell in the bunch! Some shiny bits and bobs he might take for his time, though.

Sometimes he bites his own tongue to try and fight off the demonic powers that converted him. To get his brain back on track. He doesn’t WANT to be so blunt and careless, so trained on shiny things. but it’s like he can’t help it!

It burns in his soul and sometimes he can hear his old self, his old ways, fizzling out like his wings as they disintegrated not long ago

The dumb humans start ranting about sacrifice and exchange and Mammon stops them cold, louder than them. It’s mostly the ‘older brother’ voice but he forgets that a demon is just scary to humans.

“Not really interested. What else ya got?”

No one expects that. He can tell. They take the thing off your head as if that will change his mind and something about the shininess of you catches his eye. Makes him feel kind of like a puppy.

Is it your soul? Your earrings? The genuine innocence of a human? How glittery your tears look?

He knocks them aside with his wings, stomps over to you, and picks you up (chair and all).

They start yipping about how he technically accepted the deal and how he needs to do their bidding or grant them a favor. “Hang tight, sweets,” Mammon sets your chair down before pointing out every technicality on how the deal wasn’t finished and the terms weren’t agreed upon.

Technically they just summoned him; they didn’t complete a pact ritual

“I’m takin’ that--he points to you--just because I can!” Mammon laughs at the dumb little humans. “You guys didn’t do your homework! I’m the Avatar of Greed!”

One of them tries to sneak around behind him and stab you (like that will change anything?!) and Mammon notices. He grabs the one in front of him by the face, throws him into the one by you, and just starts swinging

He doesn’t kill them, but he DOES raid their pockets of shiny things and interesting things.

Mammon takes the knife, the weird clasps off their ensembles, and breaks the chair to set you free. Debates on taking the screws, but tosses them over his shoulder (not good enough)

As an act of good will, you’re recruited to pillage this lame location they picked

He gets you home with a spell, some kind of homing magic, and just stands there looking at you quietly. He didn’t really look after humans like Belphie and Lilith did so he’s not sure what to do

The urge to comfort is strong but the genteel pat is corrupted by the desire to feel your earring between his fingers. Some guttural demon noise of glee comes out of him and it makes him embarrassed. He never used to make noises like that...

You unhook your earrings with a tentativeness that reminds him of the humans who left offerings at his alter, fretting over if they were good enough and wondering what they would bring.

You fold his big, tan fingers over the earrings and Mammon holds onto them for a while after he finds his way back to the Devildom. It’s his first gift as a demon.

He ignores getting yelled at and the little brothers pestering him about why he smells good, telling him that they’re hungry. and all their other little gripes.

Mammon never goes looking for you after that, trying to fill the ache in his soul with time and money and fame (oddly?) but he thinks of you often. He keeps your earrings in a special box at the front of his magic-locked hoard room. On his bad days, he’ll go sit in that empty room of knickknacks, open the box, and stare.

He picks up the little things, careful not to break them with his nails or strength. “You’re one silly human, aren’t you?” he smiles at the twinkling jewelry.

#Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader #Obey me! Lucifer #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Obey me! Mammon #Lucifer #Mammon

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fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years

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Unexpected, To Say The Least (ObeyMe Fic)

Okaaayyyy so... this turned out differently than I wanted it to, but these types of things happen when you leave a wip in your drafts for months (╬▔皿▔)╯ but it’s still good. This is a part 1, so stay tuned.... depending on how long it takes me haha.. ha.

~~~~~~

Scribbling in a notebook, a red night light from the window right next her defining the flyaway strands of hair on the top of her head, Aviyah was blissfully unaware of the stares from her classmates. Resting her chin on her closed fist, one leg crossed over the other, black boots bobbing up and down to the tune she had stuck in her head. She was so calm, so much calmer than she had been in weeks.

Aviyah, a human in a world of demons and angels, had arrived in Devildom two months ago. At first, she was unnerved by the close attention she gained from all the demons, angels and the other human she met. Lord Diavolo, who had also taken a liking to her, ensured that it was just because she was a different species to them. She was weak, a helpless being compared to the Avatars of sin she was living with and angels of heaven she had some classes with. Demons fed off souls, and it was an angel’s job to protect those bright balls of light in each human, so it was only right that they kept a close eye on her. Especially when the future king himself had ordered the seven strongest brothers in all of Devildom to keep her safe for the duration of the exchange programme.

But it wasn’t that. Aviyah was sure of it. She had gained unworldly attention for her entire life. Boys seemed to bow at her feet, begging her to let them serve her each and every whim. Girls clung to her, wanting to be friends with such a kind-hearted, beautiful, smart person- and also wanting to meet her every demand. Aviyah, having been raised by good-willed parents, didn’t take advantage of this strange power she seemed to hold over everyone she met, although she did accept the odd gift from colleagues and classmates on that one special day a year, mainly because she didn’t want to be rude. She hardly asked for anything in public because it would cause quite a stir, everyone in the room darting around to take care of the task she had so graciously offered them. All she wanted was an item from the top shelf, but now she had twenty boxes of cereal that she really didn’t need.

She expected, being in a world of magic, spells, and potions that could kill or force someone to love you, that she would be safe from all the unneeded, and frankly unwanted, attention. Yet, lo and behold, the first day she arrived here, in a much colder climate than she was used to, both the Avatar of Greed and the Avatar of Envy threw their coats at her, only for her to get consumed by the jacket of the largest man she had ever seen, the Avatar of Gluttony. And she hadn’t even made a pact with them yet!

“I’m telling you, there’s something up with her.” A muttering came from the other side of the otherwise bustling classroom. It was just before their lesson would start, everyone was getting themselves ready to learn about different species of man, except for one group of, shockingly, demons and angels.

“Mammon, won’t you admit your true feelings?” The dark-toned angel smiled softly at the second-born brother. Truly, he felt an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach too, something he couldn’t even begin to describe, but would never admit it himself. He was sure it was something sinful, something against his very being, and would only confess when the time came.

“What feelings! I-I ain’t got no feelings.” A horrendously red blush appeared immediately on Mammon’s entire face, noticed by all those involved in this small huddle over a desk.

“You don’t even deserve her. You already get to spend so much time with her! It’s so unfair!” The purple-haired otaku tried to bite his lip, he really did, but the jealousy for his brother grew too high, bubbling over into the trait he most represented. Envy.

“That was only because Lucifer made me! I didn’t even wanna babysit that human!” Mammon barked back, not meaning the words but needing a distracted from the embarrassment he could still feel colouring his cheeks. The two butted heads often, but this time it was literal, immediately starting to throw punches to defend the one they held so dear. Several people tried to get between them, the male human even getting his own strike to the jaw, and all hell brought loose in- well- hell.

“Guys! Stop!” A higher-toned, feminine cry, although thick with command and low with anger, echoed over the room, every single one of the occupants freezing in an instance, even those that weren’t involved in this little scuffle- or under the young girl’s pact.

Crouching beside her male counterpart, who had been thrown to the ground by the force of being hit, was Aviyah, the one they had been fighting over. With one hand on Solomon’s back and the other holding his hand to keep him upright, she glared at the two that had been previously brawling in what was meant to be a safe place.

Aviyah rarely used her unknown power to command people. Or was it the pact? She couldn’t tell any more, but at least it worked.

“Are you alright, Solomon?” Disappointment turning to anxiousness etched in her expression, Aviyah let go of the sorcerer’s hand and back- once she could tell he could hold himself up-, only to move her’s close to his face, cocking her head to get a better look at the cut bleeding through his white-haired fringe. Being in such close proximity to the woman, and earning so much of her undivided attention, brought many hateful gazes to the man, but he didn’t care. He was thriving off it, in fact.

“What? Are you worried about me?” No better was the time to tease her, to see that eye roll she did so well and hear that exasperated sigh as she dropped her hands, all previous nurturing gone from her posture as she stood up.

“You just got punched in the face by a demon and still have the wherewithal to joke?” She muttered, wondering to herself if he was the one with supernatural abilities. Well, he did, he could use magic, but she wondered if he had his own special ability since birth. Could that have been the reason they were the two, out of the entire human race, to be chosen for this life-altering program?

Once she got to her feet, she turned to see Mammon and Leviathan, both with their heads lowered in shame. They had angered their... Goddess? Master? Friend? They didn’t know what to call her, having been the first two to make pacts with her, but there was this force, this unspoken voice that drew them to her and made them bow at her feet. Or want to, anyway.

Before Aviyah could even start to berate them for losing control like that, they had even transformed into the demon-forms, a stern voice cut through the entire scene. Students pinned themselves to the wall, trying to get as far from the fighting as possible, so they seemed to surround them like hawks, eagerly watching, waiting for the two to be punished by such a soft-spoken, angelic figure.

Now in the doorway, however, was a man. With black hair as dark as the most inner depths of Devildom, red eyes as angry as the fire that sprouted from them, and an expression that has killed in the past, the man glared at the two, not even wanting to look in the direction of the girl in case she too saw his wrath.

“You two. With me. Now.” The words were curt and entirely ineloquent, nothing like that eldest would usually speak, showing how deeply enraged he was. The two quickly scurried after him, for once keeping their mouths shut.

~~~~~~

Biting her lip, Aviyah couldn’t take her eyes off that door, now empty after Lucifer had guided his younger brothers away.

“It was me, wasn’t it?” She spoke loud enough for the people closest to her to hear, but a whisper full of regret did not go unnoticed.

“What do you mean, Avi?” Simeon stepped up to try and ease the look of worry that they all saw on her face, but she stepped away, afraid for anyone to even touch her. What if he, Simeon, the nicest, most modest person she had ever met, went into a jealous rage too?

“They were fighting over me, weren’t they?” Aviyah’s voice cracked as she clutched her fists at her sides, avoiding looking at anyone directly, scared it’ll put them under the curse she seemed to have. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to pull families apart. She just wanted to have no one know who she was.

“Avi,” Simeon uttered again, but it was too late. Aviyah had already made up her mind, collecting all her resolve in one solid sniff and running out of the room, hoping she could catch the brothers before something too bad happened.

~~~~~~

“What do you think you’re doing, having a fight like that in the middle of class? Do you think it will make you seem strong? Seem manly? Because it won’t! It only makes you seem needy.” Lucifer’s booming voice shook the paintings on the walls, giving Aviyah some clue as to where he had taken the two. She followed the shouts of pain and anger, running as more and more tears grew in her eyes. She didn’t want to do what she was about to do, but she needed to. She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. To get jealous. Not when it was all the people she actually cared about.

Finally, in an empty classroom where the shouts seemed the loudest, Aviyah found the door still open ajar, standing just out of sight so she could listen in, waiting for the right moment before anything too serious happened. If that hadn’t happened already, that is.

“You made a fool out of me! The student council! Not only that, but you made Aviyah look so defeated! I won’t let you argue like this anymore!” Lucifer raged on with a temper that rivalled Satan’s. “I may just have to claim her myself.”

The comment, although almost a whisper, shot everyone in hearing distance into full-blown madness, both Levi and Mammon charging at him, demanding how he thought he had the right to even suggest the idea. Before they could make contact with each other, Aviyah cried out, desperately begging them to just wait.

All attention on her now, as usual, the men’s eyes went wide. She was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks at the sight of the brothers, who were always so comfortable with each other, usually so familiar, fighting like this? Over her? It broke her like it broke their relationship.

“I can’t do this anymore. I want to go home! I’m not happy and I never was! Please! Let me go home!” She lied, straight through her teeth. She had never been happier than living here, in Devildom, with all their brothers. She enjoyed her time listening to them bicker playfully, not like they were now. She enjoyed watching Levi play his games. She enjoyed eating with Beelzebub. She enjoyed reading books with Satan. Being dressed up by Asmo. Listening to Mammon’s wild get-rich-quick-schemes. Napping with Belphie. Even with Simeon and Solomon, who she didn’t get to see as often as the others. Luke was fun to cook with- even though he seemed a little apprehensive of her. She enjoyed all her time here but right now, in times like these, when it felt like everything was her fault.

“Avi, what’re you saying?” Mammon’s voice broke, between all the yelling and the way his heart broke at her tone and words, and his brows knitted together tightly. Levi froze up, not knowing what to say in response to her sudden outcry, and Lucifer felt like he could steal her away right here and now. Never before had he felt so out of control.

“I’m sorry, It’s all my fault. I need to leave, go home. I need to get out of your lives because- because I’ll ruin them.” She hiccupped, choking on the tears that clogged her throat, and she tried to hide how sad she was by holding her face in her hands. Her knees shook, her body- just as frail as they had always suspected. It took so much energy for her to say these words and not completely breakdown.

“N-No, it’s not your fault. W-We shouldn’t have be-been fighting.” Levi made a move to step closer, to wrap his arm around her, to help her feel better, but both Mammon and Lucifer shot him a glare so deadly it made the room cold.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Aviyah continued to stutter through her words, her tears interrupting her usually melodic, smooth voice, as she felt the indignation in their eyes.

“This always happens. It was a mistake to choose me. I... I’m going to go to Diavolo now and tell him this was wrong.” She tried to steel herself, to seem strong enough to walk through these halls alone and leave Devildom for good, but it was no use. They could all see how distraught she was.

“Always happens?” Lucifer muttered, confusion written all over his features.

“There’s something inside me, there always has been. It makes people so hateful for one another and I can’t do that to you all. You’re a family, I won’t tear it apart. I-I need to...” Aviyah led off, not knowing what else to say. Memories of her past, all the friendships she had unknowingly, unwittingly, torn apart because of what? Because she was desirable? Because she was pretty and smart and kind? No amount of adoration was worth this. None of it.

The room was silent, deathly so, no one knew what to say. Have Levi and Mammon just ruined their chances to know such a wonderful person? And not just a person, but a human. Someone they were never meant to befriend. Someone that should fear them and hate them for who they were, for what they represented. But no, she showed them care and love and compassion, what they believed only a human could give.

So, with no one left to tell her no, to not go and stay with them because they needed her so badly it hurt, she started to turn back to the door.

“Wait, Aviyah. Just... Just wait.” Shockingly at a lost for words, Lucifer turned to his desk, where his D.D.D laid, and picked it up. Aviyah started to refuse him, to say this was the right thing to do, this was the only way they could live calm, happy lives, but he continued to use the communication device, calling together a meeting that would change everything.

~~~~~~

“Tell them what you told me,” Lucifer instructed in Lord Diavolo’s conference room, having called a meeting of the student council together. Everyone looked at him with suspicious gazes, having no real information on why they were here, Levi and Mammon stressing out like they were about to take the most important, most difficult tests in their lives.

“Lucifer, this isn’t going to cha-.”

“Just say it.” The words were demanding, but the tone was soft, very shocking for Lucifer- until it was for Aviyah. He always seemed to have a soft spot for her. Like Mammon. Although for different reasons.

Aviyah lowered her head, eyes still damp from her earlier confession, thinking about what she was about to say. After a brief but deep sigh, she lifted her gaze again, but only as far as the edge of the table she sat at.

“Since before I can remember, everyone I’ve met has... wanted me.” She bit her lip, not knowing how else to say it. It always felt like someone was trying to win her over, to win her as a price to show everyone else that they were the one she chose.

“No matter who it is, they say they love me or they’d do anything for me. And no matter how much I tell them to stop, they just get more outrageous. They give me elaborate gifts or take me places I wouldn’t normally go. They shower me in a love that I never asked for until they can’t anymore.” Aviyah’s voice cracked again, tears rolling down her cheeks again as she remembered the people that bankrupted themselves to win her over and the others that have lost their health, their friends, the ones who loved them, all to impress her in one way or another.

“No matter how many times I say I don’t need it, they’ll keep doing it. It’s not until I say I don’t want them or the things they give me that they stop. I thought it’d be different when I came here, but when you guys started fighting...” Aviyah finally worked up the courage to look up, gesturing in the direction of Levi and Mammon, who blushed when she made eye contact with the both of them.

“This is why we’re here? Because those two were acting childishly again?” Satan sighed to himself, upset that his reading time had been cut short. He wouldn’t even address the panicked feeling that arose in him when he heard the solemness of Aviyah’s tone.

“You’re almost as seductive as me, Avi! Aren’t you lucky to have so much in common with me? Someday you too might be able to bring down a country with your looks.” Asmo leaned into her, ignoring how saddened she seemed by the statment. The next move she made shocked everyone.

“I don’t want to do that! I want it to stop! I hate it and I hate myself for it!” She yelled after pushing Asmodeus so strongly off her he fell right out of his seat. Every time she brushed him off she had never actually been physical. Who was she, a human, to push off a demon? Better yet, how did she have the strength?

“Hey, did you see that?” A whispering demon mentioned to his brother, noticing the flicker of light that sparked in her eyes in her yelling. Even though her words broke their hearts, it was hard not to bring it up.

The outcry caused the prince, stern-faced compared to his usual jovial smirk, to peer at her closer. “I see. Lucifer, do you think she’s..?”

“Yes, I do. It would explain everyone’s... erratic behaviours around her.” Lucifer, not wanting the entire picture drawn out for her and his brothers, interrupted the prince. The information would be hard to hear, for Aviyah most of all, and an off-handed comment was not how he wanted to break the news to her.

“But where are her features? She’s an open-book, we would have seen something by now.” Satan, catching on, eyed her as suspiciously as he had Lucifer in the past, watching the tears roll down her cheeks as she tries to calm herself down. She never yelled like that and felt awful for what she did, but was too scared to even speak to anyone else, let alone touch or apologise to Asmo for her supposed violence.

“Would someone tell us what’s going on? I-I mean, Levi might be confused, is all.” Not wanting to seem idiotic for asking, Mammon jumped up before shying away again, not being able to cope with the girl’s silent crying.

“Avi, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.” Asmo, along with Beel, tried to be some sort of caring figure in the room of inquisitive stares.

When Beel tried to put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped away. “P-Please! Do-Don’t. I... I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s possible she hasn’t been... awoken yet.” Diavolo couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. It would be just like the innocent human, if that’s what she truly was, to not have the necessary experiences she needed in life to prove their theory correct. Lucifer couldn’t help but blush.

“Awoken?” Aviyah’s voice, now somewhat tamed but hoarse from her crying, looked up at the prince. Had he an idea? Could he cure her? Could he take away this curse, gift, whatever it was? Could he end all this?

“Well, depending on your immediate ancestry, it’s possible your power needs to be... unlocked, in a way. It’s clear you’re no mere human. You even seduced dear Barbatos, and he never even blushes at my comments.” Diavolo laughed again, gesturing with his gaze to the corner of the room where his butler was clearly fitting the urge to comfort the girl. She quickly looked right back at the prince the moment she noticed this.

“If I’m not human, then what am I?”

“Well, my best guess would be a succubus, but seeing as you have more human features, you could be a cambion, a hybrid. We’d have to ask your mother.” Diavolo, as usual, was much too nonchalant with the subject of Aviyah’s supposed species, a topic that would and will change her life forever.

Silence filled the air for one.

Two.

Three.

“WHAT?” Four. They made it to four seconds of silence before Mammon stood up again, shrieking, along with the female in question. Succubi and the topic of hybrids had yet to be discussed in her classes, ironically that was today’s class, but she had a clue what they were from just hearsay.

“You think I’m a demon? But I grew up in the human world! I have human par- well the people that raised me were human... But I never felt the urge to have anything in excess or trick anyone into stealing their money- sorry Mammon- but how could I be a demon?” The tears were gone, replaced with a look of pure confusion that turned to utter disbelief with a hint of ‘what if’. What if he was right?

“The people that raised you? Don’t tell me you were...”

“Adopted. I have two dads who found me on their doorstep. I have no clue who my biological parents are.” The uneasy feeling that meant Diavolo could be right started to rise as Aviyah admitted a part of her past she had never told anyone. It seemed like everything was out in the air now.

“Perfect.”

“This is a problem. Succubi and Incubi have a duty to bring all demons back to Devildom in case they go rogue in the human world. This parent of yours will have some answering to do.” Lucifer, recovered from his bashfulness in an effort to act like the vice-president he was, got furious about someone disrespecting the laws Diavolo had put in place to protect the humans he seemed to so dearly care for. “Dumping you on some couples doorstep will require some serious consequences.”

The whole room shuddered at the idea of what punishments Lucifer was thinking up at this moment, but luckily someone thought to turn the conversation away from that.

“You say she needs to be awoken? I know one way of doing that, but I don’t know… prepared for that she will be.” Satan smirked a side-eyed look Aviyah’s way as she tried to process all this information. She was a demon, or half of one anyway. To think, all those crazy white mom’s at her elementary school were right.

“I’d be more than happy to volunteer in any way I can.” Asmo started to cosy up to Aviyah once again, making it very clear what the one way of awakening a demon seemed to be.

“No! No, that’s fine, Asmo! B-Besides, I’m not a virgin, so we’ll have to find some other way to awaken this power if you think that’s what I have.” Beetred and edging off her chair to make some distance between the flirt and herself, she almost didn’t hear the snickering from some of the other demons in the room.

“Oh, deary me.” Asmo tittered to himself, Satan covering his mouth to try and suppress the chuckle that threatened to leave his lips. He didn’t want to make the girl more embarrassed. Mammon joined in, although much louder, just to not feel left out, and Levi blushed furiously, but he knew exactly what everyone else seemed so excited about. As usual, Beel was too distracted by the food laid out by Barbatos to care what was going on now that Aviyah was no longer crying.

“Aviyah, I’m afraid to say it’s not the act of sex that awakens a demon… It’s the, uh.” Lucifer tried to inform her, he really did, but the stutter that threatened his usually composed manner halted him from doing so.

“You didn’t cum, did you, Avi?” Diavolo’s brows frowned sincerely, but the wavering of his lips told her he too was trying not to laugh. Aviyah’s cheeks blossomed darker, the embarrassment from her first time flashing through her mind once again and her face screwed up in embarrassment. For her, this situation couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Your Highness, if you wouldn’t tease her so much, there is another way to awaken her demon form.” Barbatos, unexpectedly, intervened, shocking everyone in the room but Aviyah. He had always had a sweet spot for the huma- well, hybrid.

“Yes, yes, Barbatos, you are right. My most sincere apologies, Avi. Lucifer, we’ll come to the House of Lamentation tonight. Prepare the Grimoire.” And with that, Diavolo stood to leave.

“And why not now? Wouldn’t it be best to do this sooner than later so she can learn to control it better?” Satan scowled, earning his own from Lucifer for being so upfront. The prince only chuckled.

“I need to do some… investigating first. You, Satan, of all people, should know what is needed for the ritual.” Satan’s brows frowned suspiciously at the prince as he made his final departure.

“What does he mean, Satan?” Aviyah leaned into the demon’s side in order to get a clear answer for the first time today and Satan’s gaze finally left the door.

“He needs your progenitor. He’s going to find your mother or father.”

#obey me!#OBEY ME #Obey Me Levi #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #Obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me fluff #obey me fanfic

35 notes · View notes

skycruise · 4 years

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Jared virtual panel Sunday 22 Nov 2020

As with Misha, tried to type as he talked as much as possible. I did get interrupted by a couple of brief phone calls & I’m sure someone will post a video later today, but for now--

--Just got out of the shower. Didn’t do his hair lol. It is SHORT Y’ALL.

--Been a hell of a week, we all know why. Series finale. Shed some tears, watched it at his house, everything came flooding back, was really emotional. Wishes he could see our faces. He feels the love.

--Top 3 episodes and why? Series finale is his favorite, he is a fan of storytelling & looking at SPN as a whole the finale wrapped up things in a way that were meaningful and poignant and “wonderfully frustrating”. #2, Sacrifice. Another moment of seeing deeply inside the boys but they were flipped Sam thinking he was dying vs Dean dying. #3 French Mistake, doesn’t know if any other TV show could have done that.

--Was pie in Dean’s face scripted? Yes and he got to do it a few times! When Sam throws the pie in Dean’s face there is a passerby looking on, that is Bob Singer. It being scripted didn’t make it any less fun.

--How were the first days on the set of Walker? Thank you for asking, it’s been awesome. Strange but incredible. Feels lucky and fortunate to be able to see his kids in the morning and and at night, proud of what SPN was and hoping to recreate some of that with Walker. Learned so much from Sam and wants to do that with another character.

--Bad hair days? Puts on a beanie. Never learned how to do anything with his hair.

--Crossover between SPN and Walker, would Cordell and Sam be friends? Absolutely. Both trying to do their best in a weird world to make it a better place and hopefully ease other people’s pain. Sam and Dean found themselves in situations where there’s no perfect answer and Cordell deals with the same type of things.

--Fave Harry Potter book & movie & spell? Book--Deathly Hallows, Sorry, missed the rest! Oh Expecto Patronus lol

--Craziest/funniest bts moment? 2 moments, one where he was awaiting birth of first son Tom, scene where Sam is chasing Kevin around. Same situation where Jensen was waiting for twins--Jensen getting that call. Just a weird situation where something huge is going on personally while trying to act. Talks about Jensen not having his passport and it had to be all hands on deck to find Jensen’s passport and get him back in the states for the birth.

--If SPN all over again as a different character, who & why? Biggest part of him says he has to be Sam. He would be Sam again. But if he HAD to change he would be Lucifer. Mark made it seem like such a fun character to play. Also possibly Chuck, Rob was phenomenal.

--Would love to do/have reaction videos for cast reaction to reaction videos. (Me too, Jared)

--Had a hard time thinking about who he was going to be without SPN

--How did you start your acting career? Acted in middle/high school. Won a contest to be trophy presenter (pulls out surfboard award thing) at Teen Choice awards, met an agent & auditioned over tape. Was supposed to be premed in school but got Gilmore Girls.

--What is always on your Thanksgiving table? Turkey, as much as possible. Stuffing, pumpkin pie. Big Dallas Cowboys fan so would always watch Cowboys game and make awful turkey nachos (tortilla chips with Thanksgiving leftovers) that night

--How would Sam spend his time in quarantine? Giant library at bunker doing a lot of reading. Would probably use a pedometer to make sure he got his steps in for the day. Sam is an introvert.

--What country would Sam and Dean like to visit on vacation? Puerto Rico. Wishes Sam and Dean got their beach vacation that they had talked about. Not sure if the car could have gotten there. Maybe they could have found some floaties for it lol.

--Were any lines adlibbed or added by him and Jensen (finale)? Yes. In the barn scene when Dean tells Sam to keep going, it was written Sam said he couldn’t do it without you (Dean), Sam thought he should say it more similar to the pilot, which is what they did. First thing Dean said to Say was Heya Sammy and Sam was Dean? Sam thought those should also be their last words on the bridge. J2 tried to convey how they thought the characters felt in that barn scene especially. When Sam says It’s okay, you can go now, Jared thought Sam’s son should say the same to him at his death.

--Sam wearing Dean’s watch in the finale? Jared happy fan caught that. Jared thought it was something Sam would have kept and worn.

--Jared doesn’t catch the reference SamLicker81 lol.

--Jared had a lot of time to think about Sam’s ending, at first he thought it was jarring but how do you feel about anyone’s ending? Would you ever be ok with your own ending? There was a finality to it that no matter what happened it would be difficult to wrap his head around. Once he digested it, he felt it was the best way to tell Sam’s story. Sam tried to live his life the way Dean would have wanted him to life his life. He tried to do what Dean would have wanted. If Dean had come back 20 years later and saw Sam hunting he wouldn’t have liked that, he wanted Sam to live his life. That’s what they all fought for, for whoever was left to live as normal a life as possible.

--Any other props end up at Jared’s house? Yeah he has some stuff. His stand-in Jason had got 2 picture frames for Jared and Jensen, got copies of the last call sheet along with their marks (red tape for Jared, blue for Jensen), and framed them.

--Super excited about producing and acting on Walker, felt like he and Jensen were pseudo-producers on SPN but will be different on Walker, hopefully he can help guide the story in a way that’s best for the show

--Acting advice? Everybody is different. Acting is trying to be somebody you’re not...but don’t try to be somebody you’re not. Don’t try to be like another actor. Just be you and figure out what story you want to tell, remember you’re there to tell a story, commit to who you are and who you have been. There are things you’ve been through no one else has, so don’t discredit that.

--Fave song that reminds you of Sam? Carry on Wayward Son, especially having just watched the finale, it’s such a powerful song.

--Pre and post COVID scripts? They can’t fire me now! Biggest deal with post COVID script was the mandatory 2 week quarantine. There were going to be a lot of beloved characters in Heaven with us but it was just a scene or 2 so they couldn’t really ask Rob, Richard, Samantha Smith, Jeffrey Dean to come sit in a hotel room for 2 weeks for one scene. The Heaven Dean deserved was filled with people but because COVID it ended up being just Sam and Dean.

--One thing he will miss the most? The crew/family. Life long friends made over 15 years. He grew up a lot on SPN, been through so much and so much history with those people. It’s so different shooting Walker right now because with COVID there’s less human contact. Misses human contact (with fans too).

--How did you prepare to shoot Dean’s death? How could you possible prepare to shoot Dean’s death? We shot it in September, I had known about since June or July 2019, had been reading the script since February. Lot of time spent on set was trying not to cry. Massive massive fight scene, shot for 3 days but 30 seconds on screen. One day for after Dean’s been impaled so they wouldn’t have to fight all day then get emotional. Was emotional about that scene, didn’t want Jared to get in the way of Sam’s story.

--Did Sam tell his kid about all the hunting stuff? Yeah of course, told him all about uncle Dean, why he was named after him, and the importance of taking care of himself and not spending his life saying goodbye to friends and family and then his son just wanted to get a tattoo.

--There are tons of shows Jared wishes SPN could have crossed over with. Would have been funny to cross over with Walking Dead, for them to see John and he doesn’t know who they are.

--First people Sam would want to see in Heaven? Obviously Dean. Bobby. Mom. Sully. Sam’s Heaven is mostly Dean. He wanted Sam’s wardrobe from the pilot because that was Sam’s happiest moment, going on the road with his brother.

--If he had the chance to work with Jensen again (and he WILL he says, hopefully sooner than later)...Jensen has a standing invitation to come to Walker, but they will find something somewhere and it will be great.

--What weird or gross food do you enjoy? Jared eats everything and a lot of it. Except olives. Doesn’t really like chocolate despite his sweet tooth. Doesn’t like black licorice. Will try anything once. Loves spicy food.

--Advice for people with anxiety? One thing that’s worked for him is just accepting that it’s not going anywhere. If you’re trying to get rid of anxiety you’ll frustrate yourself. Talks about Eddie Vedder saying he sees his demons as somebody who’s riding in the car with him. Take care of yourself. You got this.

--Grateful for you guys, hope to see you soon.

#jared padalecki #virtual panel #StageIt #creation 2020 #jared panel

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Stay Awake

Title: Stay Awake Summary: The apocalypse has finally come to fruition - and it’s all Sam’s fault. What better reason to get plastered? Very loosely based on ‘Stay Awake’ (acoustic version) by Dean Lewis. Pairing: Sam x Reader Warnings: alcohol consumption and intoxication (!!!), cursing Word Count: 2k

note; by popular vote, a sammy one shot for tonight! i’m rewatching the series and wrote this just after watching 5x03... i just wanted to give sam a big ol’ hug and make him feel better so here we are... i guess this is set somewhere in 5x02??

The whiskey burned down your throat, but you’d had enough by now that you felt only the warmth it spread over your veins, and the buzz that clouded your mind. You weren’t one to get drunk often, but you figured the apocalypse itself was a good enough reason as any to let loose and have a few.

Dean had headed out for the night - after your run-in with War earlier in the day, he was all too eager to escape into the arms of some bottle blonde bartender, to lose himself in the guffawing crowds and gambling of a run-down bar. If nothing else, at least it gave you some time alone with Sam.

The youngest Winchester downed another shot - you’d both lost track of how many you’d had by now. All you knew was that the bottle had been full when you started.

It certainly wasn’t now.

You tilted your head back, lips closing around the neck’s rim as you drained the last of the dark liquor that had pooled at the bottom of the bottle. It rolled over your tongue, the bitter aftertaste distracting you, at least temporarily, from the latest chaos you’d found yourself caught in.

With a clink, you tossed the bottle onto the shitty motel table, sighing as you collapsed back onto the bed. The room spun around you, and you kept your eyes closed to stave off the dizziness as the bed seemed to rock and sway beneath you.

“Lucifer. Lucifer. Can you believe it?” you slurred, your blunt laugh breaking the quiet that had settled over the room. Sam snorted.

“We’re screwed. We’re screwed!” he exclaimed, humourless eyes standing in stark contrast to the laugh that bubbled from his lips. He swallowed the little alcohol that remained in the glass he had been nursing, before it, too, joined the empty bottle on the table. He fell back onto the bed, the mattress bouncing, springs squeaking in protest at the sudden burden of his weight.

“Wow,” you remarked, dragging out the vowel and curiously shaping the syllable on your tongue, letting your voice trail into silence as you stared at the water damaged roof. “We’re gonna die, huh?”

“Yep!” Sam declared cheerfully. You chortled, shaking your head, but quickly stopped when the room began to violently swim around you.

“The apocalypse. The frickin’ apocalypse, dude. What the hell? And angels are bad? What the hell is this?” you demanded, clumsily pushing yourself into an upright position. Sam followed suit, pausing and swaying slightly as he squinted, struggling to collect his bearings.

“I know right?” he agreed eventually, but his words came out as an unintelligible garble that, somehow, your drunken mind managed to translate.

“What do we, like... even do?” you wondered, giggling. “We’re dead. We’re literally gonna die. In the actual apocalypse. Like, that’s fucked, right?”

“Totally fucked,” Sam slurred. “And you know what? It’s all my fault!” he cried, delivering a hard laugh that had a pit forming in your stomach.

“What? No, no no no,” you protested drunkenly, trying to turn towards him but losing your balance halfway. You fell forward, catching yourself on his chest, and he was just so damn comfortable you didn’t even bother to toy with the idea of moving. Sam didn’t seem to mind, his clumsy arms folding you against his torso as he laughed again. The sound was deep and rich, it’s low vibrations curling warmly around you and drowning out even your own thoughts as you lost yourself in its pleasant timbre.

“Uh, yeah. I killed Lilith. I killed Lilith. I broke the last seal. Me! Me! With my evil demon powers!” he continued, voice loud with disbelief. You made a noise of discontent, shaking your head against his shirt.

“No... I mean yeah, but it wasn’t your fault... I mean it was, but it wasn’t...” you tried to reason. “You didn’t wanna start the apocalypse, like, you didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, but I did,” Sam said slowly. “And now we’re all gonna die! Cos of me!”

“Nuh-uh,” you said stubbornly. “It was Ruby. All her. Let’s blame Ruby, that’s way easier,” you said firmly, though your words blended into a muddled language that only Sam seemed to understand. He scoffed.

“Ruby. What a bitch. I trusted her, y’know? Shit, I was so stupid!” he berated, and you shook your head.

“Nonono, you wanted to do the right thing!” you protested, jabbing his chest with an accusing index finger. “And it didn’t happen like that and that like, sucks, dude. But like. That’s life, y’know?” you sagely mused. Sam hummed, and the two of you were silent for a moment. Sam chuckled suddenly, though the sound held no trace of humour.

“I’m a freak. Dean doesn’t trust me anymore,” he muttered. You cuddled against him a little more tightly.

“Screw Dean,” you mumbled, pressing your face into his chest. “I trust you. You’re my hero.”

“But I-”

“Shuddup,” you interrupted. “You know, like, you’re the nicest person in the whole entire world. Like, you were a bit mean last year, but like... you’re still nice,” you said lamely. “You just wanna help people. That’s so...”

“Nice?” he finished, mouth quirking in a faint echo of amusement. You beamed.

“Yeah! And that’s why you’re my hero. Cos you always try to do the right thing,” you said, carefully enunciating your words. Sam frowned.

“I’ve done bad things, though, Y/N. Really bad,” he argued, and you sighed loudly.

“But you know they’re bad, and now you’re gonna try to fix them! And that counts for something,” you said. Sam was quiet, and you twisted your neck to look up at him. His face was solemn, and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

“Whadisit?” you asked, words jumbling together in your haste.

“I think I’m gonna go tomorrow.”

“Go... where?”

“I dunno. Away. Stop hunting. I’ve screwed up enough,” he murmured. You lightly smacked his chest, and his brow scrunched in confusion. “What was that for?!”

“You’re leaving? Dude, no! You gotta help fix all this!” you protested.

“But we’re screwed! What’s the point?” he demanded, and you shrugged.

“I dunno, it’s just what we do. We try to fix it, y’know? If it ain’t broke... wait, that’s not right... if it is broke, don’t fi- no, I mean... if you break something you have to make it better,” you managed eventually, stumbling over your words as they awkwardly struggled to flee your lips. “So we gotta try to make it better. ‘Sides, you’re not the only one who made the apocalypse happen. Dean broke the first seal!” you reminded him.

“Yeah, but Dean didn’t know,” he pointed out, and you rolled your eyes.

“Neither did you! Besides, Lilith broke like... sixty-four seals. That’s way more than either of you, so... so Lilith is really the bad guy here,” you slurred wisely.

“Lilith is dead, though.”

“Wow, we can’t even kill her for dying. What a bitch!” you half-shouted. Sam snorted.

“I’ll drink to that,” he muttered. You pouted.

“There’s none left!”

Sam grinned slyly, reaching into the duffel bag by the bed and dragging out a half-full bottle of scotch. He waved it tantalisingly, the glass catching the dim glow of the lamp and throwing a mosaic of light shards over the wall. You watched the reflections dance, transfixed in awe.

“Wow, look! Pretty...” you said, tugging his sleeve and nodding to the yellowing wallpaper. Sam looked at it and blinked a few times, before turning back to you.

“Yeah... pretty,” he said, throwing you a soft smile. You caught his eye, feeling heat flood your cheeks as he handed you the bottle. It was heavier than you had anticipated, but you managed to catch it before it could spill onto the sheets. You took a swig, offering it back to Sam, who downed a large gulp before forcefully setting it on the bedside table.

Neither of you spoke. Sam busied himself by staring out the window at the near-empty parking lot outside, illuminated by yellow street lights that cast an eerie glow over the gleaming tarmac and bounced brightly off the road markings, the chipping, painted lines a radiant white beneath its watchful luminescence.

You, however, were ensnared by a far more enticing sight.

Sam’s hair was still damp from the shower, clinging to his temples and sending occasional droplets of water sliding down his cheek and into the crook of his neck. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, watched the stretch of his tanned skin over his muscled, veined arms as he subconsciously adjusted his position, bringing you closer to his heat as he leaned back against the headboard. His soft, pink lips were hanging ever-so-slightly open, a stray drop of amber liquor captured at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” you airily informed him, lightly tracing your fingertips along the hard cut of his jaw. He turned to you with a smirk.

“Thanks. You’re not too bad, either,” he shot back, and you rolled your eyes. His gaze found yours, and you caught a glimpse of trepidation as he hesitated, unspoken words catching on his tongue. You looked at him curiously, raising a questioning brow.

“We’re gonna die. We might even die tomorrow. I mean, Lucifer is out there, y’know?” he said softly. You nodded slowly.

“Yep. Yep, that’s correct. A-plus,” you rewarded, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“We could... I mean...” His eyes darted to your mouth, but he hastily averted his gaze. licking his lips nervously. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, chuckling and awkwardly rubbing at the nape of his neck. A small smile crossed over your lips.

“Sammy?”

“Mm?”

“Will you kiss me?”

Sam’s eyes widened as they met your own, but before you could come to regret your words, he was smiling and touching his mouth to your own. The kiss was a little sloppy, both of your mouths dry from alcohol, and your lips numb and uncoordinated from intoxication. But as his tongue smoothed over yours and his fingers dug into your hips, you could finally forget; forget Lucifer, the horsemen, the angels, the demons... in this perfect moment, all you knew was Sam.

And then you were pulling away, breathless and smiley as you sunk back into the mattress.

“’m sleepy,” you told him. Sam swallowed, his jaw tight as he ducked his head.

“Yeah... get some sleep,” he mumbled. You rolled onto your side, tucking your hands beneath your head as you observed him curiously.

“Will you? Sleep?”

“Yeah,” he said, unconvincingly. You frowned.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll stay awake with you,” you said decisively, snuggling back against his chest. Your eyelids were heavy, but you fought to keep them open, struggling to hold onto consciousness despite it’s best efforts to evade you.

“No, you should sleep...” he insisted weakly, but you shook your head tiredly.

“Nah... you’re more important,” you yawned. Sam’s hand found your hair, and he ran his fingers lightly through your tresses, placing a light kiss to the top of your head.

“I kinda love you,” he mumbled. You smiled, kissing his chest over the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

“I kinda love you, too,” you replied, and despite your best efforts, you felt yourself beginning to slip away. “We’re gonna be okay, y’know? It’ll be okay. Okay?”

Sam smiled despite himself as your words faded into a gentle snore, and he cast an affectionate glance at your slumbering figure, mouth slackened with sleep.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay.”

__________

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting @bee-happy-buzz-on @lilulo-12

Sam tags: @sammys-dimpless

If you wanna be added to any tag lists just let me know!

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cakesunflower · 6 years

Text

Made of Gold [Angel/Demon!Luke AU] One Shot

A/N: so this is my take on angel/demon!Luke, as in he’s half of both! i hope y’all enjoy this djknfjdn it’s over 11k words & 30 pages hehe so yeah pls let me know what you think!

NOW

He never stopped keeping track of her. She was ingrained in his mind, meant to be kept there for as long as he was alive; he’d never forget the fire her touch ignited, hotter than the depths of Hell he resided in, or the soft glow of her brown eyes when she looked at him, or the way her prominent cheekbones pushed up when she stunned him with her gorgeous smile. It had taken a while for her to look at him like that, after finding out who—what—he was, and the first time she’d smiled at him, Luke remembered feeling the heart of the body he’d taken over centuries ago beginning to race, a sensation he’d never felt before, one only she could elicit from him.

Tameera was everything Luke wasn’t. A bright, welcoming aura around her that made people fall in love with her effortlessly; with her smile and eyes and heart, and she didn’t even have to try. Luke couldn’t believe, at one point, he thought he’d been too good for that. Well, good wasn’t the appropriate term; he just thought he was better than her, better than to take one look at her smiling face and fall to his knees in front of her. That was the demon in him deciding; the part of him he inherited from his father—dark and uncaring with the occasional attitude of seeing humans as pathetic scum that couldn’t fend for themselves.

But then he thought of his mother, long gone and one of heaven’s angels, who always believed humans were meant to be protected as one of God’s finest creations. Luke often wondered how someone like his mother could fall in love with his father, one of the most powerful demons and the King of Hell, a ruler in his own right with Lucifer being dead for centuries before Luke ever came to be. For so long, Luke struggled with who he was; being half demon and half angel, not entirely bad but not entirely good, either. He’d gone so long without his mother’s words that he found himself often molding into the attitude his father possessed, darkened by the loss of Luke’s mother and damn near ruthless in his rulings.

And while he was the Prince of Hell with a father as unbending as his, it wasn’t until he met Tameera that Luke finally understood what his mother had been talking about all those years ago. How humans were needed to be protected and guided and cherished—Luke only took it one step further by falling in love with one.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t forget who his father was. He couldn’t forgive his father, either. Not for what he had done.

*****

THEN

Luke wasn’t sure if he kept picking at his chipped black nails because he was dreading it or if he was impatient to get it over with. It’s not like he’s never done this before—tracking down and taking care of demons who went against his father’s commands was something he’s been doing for years now. Just a quick stab with his serrated knife and it was done, punishment for extracting human souls long before their time. Truthfully, Luke never understood why he always felt so jittery before doing something like this; it was only a demon he was getting rid of. Sure, he was half demon himself, but ridding of a human soul sucker that ran around causing havoc wasn’t the worst thing.

Maybe it was the actual act of killing. Angels were warriors as well, soldiers of heaven just like demons were soldiers of hell. All in all, Luke was meant to be a warrior down to his very core. Maybe it was because he knew every time he killed a demon, he was killing the human host it had taken over. Knew that there was no chance for the soul that had once been the person the demon took over to ever recover, that it was gone. It was the angel in him that felt for the lost soul, but the demon in him that got the job done.

He was sitting on a bench on the sidewalk that faced the street, the bar behind him bustling with life as a line of people stood outside, ready to go in. Luke sat with his back against the metal armrest, digging into his lower back through the material of his button down and leather jacket, right foot on the ground and left foot propped up on the bench. The guy he was after was inside, Luke knew, but he wasn’t about to storm inside. While most demons liked things messy, it was the angel in him that wanted this to be done as quietly as possible.

The music playing in the bar was suddenly no longer muffled as he heard a woman’s voice call, “Goodnight, Pete.”

Luke glanced up in time to see a brunette walk out of the bar, waving at the bouncer and walking down the sidewalk he was facing. His eyes trailed after her, unable to see her face yet could hear the clicking of her heels on the pavement. But then suddenly someone was walking behind her, and Luke’s blue eyes caught sight of a familiar spiderweb tattoo on the man’s wrist and knew instantly that it was who he was after.

His tall figure moved quietly in the night, the only source of lights coming from the street lamps and the bar behind them, the hour of night having everything else closed. Luke’s blue eyes narrowed, the guy, Jakob, only a few strides ahead of him, taking note of the slouch of his shoulders and his quick steps. For a moment, Luke figured Jakob realized he was right behind him.

But then Luke watched as Jakob’s arms shot out and grabbed the woman that had been just a few steps ahead of him, unaware of him behind her, and watched in a moment of incredulity as Jakob pulled the struggling girl, her shouts muffled by his hand covering her mouth, into a dark alley to the left.

Oh, fuck no.

Luke had never been one to deal with human affairs. After his mother’s death, his father forbid it, said if Luke was to get involved with humans it would be to take their souls for reaping. So Luke accepted the occasional job of hunting down disobeying demons and his father left him alone, having bigger things in hell to deal with.

But this—Luke wasn’t capable of standing by and letting it happen.

It was empty on the streets and Luke swiftly slid into the dark alley just in time to see Jakob grasp the girl’s shoulders and slam her into the brick wall behind her, the scream she tried to release cut off into a choked gasp at the force of the action. Jakob, taller and stronger than her, pressed his knife to her throat, hissing out a fierce, “Shut up. Fucking filthy human.”

As soon as he saw the glint of the knife, Luke sprung into action. He didn’t miss a moment, long legs taking him to where Jakob had the girl, pulling his own knife out of the band of his pants from his lower back as his tall figure made his way over. Maybe it was too dark, or maybe Jakob was too focused on the girl in front of him, but he didn’t notice Luke make his way over. From over Jakob’s shoulder, he caught sight of the girl, dark brown eyes wide with paralyzing fear and dread as they met Luke’s ocean blue for a brief moment.

He didn’t look at her. Instead, grabbing Jakob’s shoulder with his free hand and slammed him against the very wall he had the girl, who let out a startled gasp as she fell to her knees once she was let go, Jakob’s knife clattering to the floor beside her. Part of Luke wanted to make sure she was okay, but he was too focused on Jakob, too busy feeling the adrenaline pumping his veins and the tightness in his jaw as he pressed the tip of his knife under Jakob’s chin, other hand fisting the front of his shirt as he made sure the wall was digging into Jakob’s back.

The lower level demon looked up at the tall prince, and for a moment Luke felt a rush of arrogance at the fear he saw in Jakob’s expression, all black eyes lowering to look away from Luke’s own blackened eyes. “Y-Your Highness, I was just—”

“Going against the King’s orders? I can see that,” Luke interrupted, voice smooth like velvet with words sharp like the knife he held. “You know the rules, Jakob; we don’t take souls that aren’t ready. Did you expect to get rewarded for your actions?” When Jakob didn’t answer, adam’s apple bobbing, Luke’s lips twitched. “Or did you think you could keep the souls for yourself? Find a way to make demons who’d follow your orders?”

The dark haired man’s head snapped up, black eyes blinking quickly and Luke knew he’d been right. That what a number of rogue demons tried to do. All failed. His father was the King for a reason; the only one who could hope to match his power was Luke himself, with the added juice of angel grace that ran through him. “N-No, I swear it, I wasn’t—”

“Sure you weren’t,” Luke rolled his eyes, dissolving back into his oceanic blue, no longer feeling the initial spot of dread he had been earlier. Not when he saw what Jakob was about to do to the girl, who Luke knew was still on the ground, too stunned in her fear and shock to move. Clicking his tongue, Luke gave an uncaring shrug of his shoulders. “You know the rules for disobedience.”

Panic set in as Jakob tried to push away and beg and plead, but Luke was too broad and strong to even budge. “No, no, no, please, sire. It won’t—”

His words were cut off by Luke piercing the tip of the knife through the bottom of his face without another moment’s hesitation, the death too quick for Jakob to even let out a scream as his body jerked with the electric heat of his demonic soul being burned under the skin. Luke watched blankly, letting go of Jakob before pulling out his knife, the silver tainted crimson as Jakob’s limp body fell to the ground with the heavy thud of a dead body, and Luke didn’t look at him after that. Not when he knew he’d be reminded of the previous human that no longer was present anymore.

“Oh, my God.”

The delicate, stunned whimper pulled Luke away from what just happened, blue eyes casting over to the girl who was slowly pushing herself to her feet, palming at the brick wall behind her to keep herself steady. Luke took a look at her, at her long brown hair and dark eyes that were glassy and widened with terror, gazing at the dead body. He could see the panic and fear and disbelief fighting on her pretty face, lower lip trembling as her hands did.

“You—you killed him,” she gasped out, voice shaking with whatever emotions she was struggling with, unable to make sense of what had just happened. “You just—you killed him.”

Luke wondered if she was seconds away from having a panic attack, wouldn’t be surprised if she did. “I did,” he cautiously answered, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones. Luke crouched down, rubbing the blade of his knife on Jakob’s shirt to wipe the blood off of it before getting to his feet and tucking it back into the waistband of his pants. He looked at the girl, her lips parted and chest heaving as she breathed heavily, blinking as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. It wasn’t appropriate, by any means, but Luke couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous she was—even with fear written all over her face. He knew if he was a whole demon, like his father, he’d be smug in the terror she was expressing. But the grace he inherited from his mother had him also be slightly worried for this girl. “Are you okay?”

He asked that while taking a step towards her, and she sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back, stumbling on her unsteady feet although the wall saved her. “What just happened?” she asked, her voice not holding any sharpness or edge, instead coated with confused fright as she continued breathlessly, “Why—why were his eyes black? Why were yours?”

Luke pursed his lips, shaking his head to push back some golden curls brushing across his forehead. “Don’t think you’re ready to hear the answer to that, sweetheart.” She was shaking against the wall. “Go home.”

Truthfully, he wanted to truly make sure she was okay, if she’d be able to get home safely from here. But Luke had to report to his father as soon as got rid of Jakob, didn’t want to be late and use the excuse that he was checking up on a human to be thrown back in his face in contempt. Still, he gave himself a moment to admire the girl; wide doe eyes and long lashes and small compared to him. Beautiful, no doubt about it, but terrified.

Luke let out a breath as her eyes met his and then, with a blink of an eye, he was gone.

*****

NOW

“We shouldn’t be here, mate.”

Luke ignored Calum’s words, letting them get drowned out in the music of bar. Instead, he took sips of his beer, blue eyes glued to the girl behind the bar on the opposite side. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t dare let it show on his face. Demon blood and angel grace ran through him but Luke felt empty; he’d had a taste of what it was like to feel complete, to have the unconditional love of someone no matter who or what he was. It was no longer there, not anymore, and it had been nearly a year and Luke still didn’t know how to live with himself.

Every day he fought the urge to turn into his father; to let his rage and heartbreak consume him and live up to the Prince of Hell title he held. And every day, he was reminded of his mother, of her, and fought to keep any semblance of the angelic part of his soul he possessed. Because he knew the only two important women that had existed in his life wouldn’t want that. And love was so much greater than vengeance.

He knew love to be beautiful, had experienced it. But right now, it was felt more twisted than any demon soul he’s seen.

Because he was watching the love of his life, smiling and talking to those around her as she served them drinks, the sound of her melodic laugh that spread a warmth across Luke’s skin drowned out by the music playing throughout the place. Even from where he sat, he could catch the way her dark eyes were glimmering against the colorful lights of the bar, but nothing was brighter than the breathtaking smile on her face.

Luke pushed himself into a proper seating position, watching with familiarity as Tameera bid goodbye to the two other bartenders behind the bar as she picked up her purse and tips for the night. She waved, walking around, and Luke watched with a shattering grip on the glass he held as she smiled up at the dirty blonde haired bloke who wrapped an arm around her neck to pull her close and press a kiss to her lips.

The fire was burning in his veins, a heart wrenching and nauseating twist in his guts at the sight of his girl kissing some pathetic human—Luke wasn’t sure if that thought was concocted through pained jealousy or because his father’s influence was shining through. Luke was well aware there’d be a good chance of seeing Tameera with her boyfriend, but opted to come to her place of work anyway. Maybe the demonic part of him had potential to be a torturer, after all.

His fiery blue eyes trailed after them through the thin crowd of people, unable to look away as they approached the door, and just before they stepped out, Luke caught sight of something falling out of Tameera’s bag. Her lucky bag, with rips sewn together yet things still managed to fall through.

Slamming his empty glass on the table, Luke shot up to his feet. “Where the hell are you going?” Calum demanded, watching as his friend began walking away.

Luke grunted a noncommittal, “Be right back,” before going towards the door Tameera had just walked out of, bending down to pick up the tube of chapstick that had fallen. Luke held it between his fingers for a moment, throat tightening as he could practically taste the sweet strawberry flavor he loved kissing off.

With a clench of his jaw, Luke stepped out of the bar without sparing a glance to the bouncer, looking down the sidewalk to catch sight of Tameera walking away, her left arm looped around the waist of the guy, Luke’s muscles tensing at the sight of his arm around her shoulders. Fuck, he felt like he was on fire and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He knew that he shouldn’t; knew that if he was found out he was risking both his and Tameera’s lives. But even Luke had to admit that he was selfish, that the desire of his blue eyes finally looking into her brown ones after almost a year was aching his bones.

“Excuse me!” Luke felt his breath stall as Tameera stopped, his eyes blind to anyone but her as she looked over her shoulder and her eyes, for the first time in too long, met his. The air rushed out of his lungs as she looked at him, the twist in his chest only tightening when there was no ounce of recognition that flashed through her pretty brown eyes. She gazed at him curiously as he took the few steps closer to her, his leather jacket protecting him from the cool breeze as his curls danced in the wind. He held his hand out. “I think you dropped this.”

Tameera’s eyes flickered to Luke’s hand, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of her beloved chapstick in his grasp. Luke’s heart thundered as she slowly took it from him. “Oh God, thank you,” she instantly sounded, lips quirking into the smile that swept Luke off his feet. “I didn’t even realize I dropped it.”

Her fingers brushed Luke’s as she took the chapstick from him, and he swallowed the spark of electricity he felt ignite in his skin at the slightest of touches. Luke quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the guy next to Tameera chuckled slightly. “You’ve no idea how much you just saved her life. She can’t live without it.”

Luke’s jaw clenched, lips pursing as he stopped himself from telling the guy that he knew exactly how much Tameera loved that chapstick, that he’s kissed it off her lips just for her to reapply it. He also fought the animalistic urge to pull out his knife and rip through the guy’s skin, squaring and tensing his shoulders to keep himself from doing anything he’d regret. No doubt if there was no angel grace running through him, traits that were made to protect humans, Luke would have no trouble in just killing the man right then and there.

But the first time he met Tameera, he’d killed someone. Luke didn’t want to have the same first impression again.

“It’s no problem,” Luke forced out through a tight lipped smile, blue eyes flickering to meet Tameera’s brown once more.

Suddenly he noticed the way her eyebrows furrowed together slightly, eyes narrowing a bit as she tilted her head, gazing at him as if she was trying to figure something out. Luke looked at her, feeling his throat dry as she carefully asked, “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

Fuck, how badly did he want to tell her that he was the one she loved, not the bloke her arm was around. It physically ached to not tell her the truth, to watch her look at him like she has no clue who he is. And she doesn’t, and that’s not her fault. It’s on him, and it made his eyes burn with the tears this body possessed but an angel and demon were incapable of shedding. Still, he had to fight to keep the utter heartbreak off his face.

So Luke fisted his hands in his pockets, forcing his lips to quirk in a dismissing smile as he shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably seen me ’round your bar, ‘s all.”

Lies, lies, lies.

But she seemed to buy it, because why wouldn’t she? She saw loads of faces working the bar, couldn’t really remember all of them but always had a sense of familiarity. So Tameera smiled, nodding as she said, “Yeah, probably.” Then she waved her chapstick around. “Thanks for this. Your next drink will be on me,” she added with a light giggle that had Luke’s stomach dropping.

All he could do was nod. All he could do was watch as she turned around and walked down the sidewalk, arm once again around the guy she was leaning into. All he could do was feel the fire burning his veins and making him flush, and mourn over the fact that the only woman he’s ever loved had no idea who he was.

*****

THEN

“Your finest bourbon, please.”

He watched, feeling both smug and amused, as startled recognition flashed across the girl’s brown eyes when she caught a look at the new arrival on the other side of the bar, sitting at the end of it. She gaped at him, full pink lips parting after her throat worked to swallow down the lump that had formed. Luke wondered what was racing through her mind as she stared at him, no doubt thinking of the first time she had seen him; black eyes after killing someone right in front of her and disappearing before her eyes. Wondered if she told anyone, wondered if she’d made sense of any of it.

“You’re—you—” she stammered, the shock, disbelief, fright and nervousness all together quite clear on her face and stuttering voice.

“I’m Luke,” he introduced himself smoothly, although he knew she hadn’t asked for his name. He crossed his arms on the bar top, leaning forward as his bright blue eyes took her in. “Nice to meet you—” His eyes flashed to the nametag she wore before his lips curled upwards, a hint of a dimple in view. “—Tameera.”

He wanted to laugh, biting the inside of his cheek. Of course her name meant angel in Arabic. Of course someone with a name as pretty to match her face would be the one to catch Luke’s attention. How fucking fitting.

“I’ll just—I’ll get your drink,” she finally said, obviously flustered as she went to make his drink.

Luke knew she could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move from pulling out a glass to grabbing a bottle and pouring the drink before placing it in front of him as he paid for it. He kept his gaze on her, picking up the glass and taking a sip of it, peering at her over the rim of the glass, lips curling as she looked right back. His presence was making her nervous and scared but she was still so achingly curious.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Luke hummed, lowering the glass and tilting his head up. “Never believed in angels and demons?”

And, oh, how in six words did he open her life to so much more.

*****

NOW

“You’re making this way harder for you than it already is.”

Luke’s jaw clenched, feeling the familiar burn in his eyes and nose that always presented as a prologue to human tears. He always thought he was stronger than this, but being with Tameera had changed him. She’d humanized him in the year they spent together, made him see the beauty in earth and in humans just like his mum always had. Every time the darker, angrier part of him wanted to use the knife he always kept on the next person who laid eyes on him, the part of him that was made entirely up of his mother reminded him to keep himself in check. And the entirety of him that was in love with Tameera agreed.

Shit, he missed the lightness he felt when he was with Tameera. He wanted it back.

“You think I don’t know that?” Luke responded, his voice quiet. “It’s been a year. I haven’t seen her and I miss her.”

Ashton, an angel and one of Luke’s closest and oldest friends, let out a sigh. When everything happened, Luke had asked Ashton to keep an eye on Tameera, to make sure she was okay, and Ashton didn’t hesitate on agreeing. He’d never seen Luke so wrapped up in someone before, knew that his friend had been in indescribable pain for the past year and the least he could do was make sure no harm came to the woman Luke loved. But seeing him hurt sat heavily on Ashton, wishing he could do more than what he was.

“If you father finds out—”

“I know,” Luke cut in, voice sharp. But his gaze never wavered. It remained on the restaurant across the street, looking through the window where Tameera sat with her boyfriend—Noah, he’d learned his name from Ashton—as they enjoyed a date night. The sight was disgusting and wrong. “If he finds out, I’ll take care of him.” Luke’s expression darkened, lips curling into a sneer. “Like I should’ve in the first fuckin’ place.”

Ashton let out a breath, looking at Luke in mild incredulity. “What’re you gonna do—kill the King of Hell? Easier said than done, man.”

Luke was well aware he was talking about killing his own father, but he’d accepted a long time ago that his dad was a king first and father second. Any trace of humanity he could’ve possibly had left was gone with the death of Luke’s mother, and any respect and love Luke had for him had disappeared from existence when he took Tameera from him.

He was just grateful he hadn’t killed her.

“I hate that you’re hurting yourself watching her be happy with someone else.”

Luke swallowed, eyes on the smile on Tameera’s face as she laughed at something Noah said, all the way across the street in a romantic restaurant with someone that wasn’t him. His muscles ached, as if he was being crushed, watching her look at someone else with a look that had been reserved for him for so long. Watching her smile at someone else, so lovingly like he hung the fucking moon and stars felt as though strikes were being thrown at his very soul.

He knew this was better than her being dead, because that had definitely been the alternative. He much fucking rather her be alive and breathing than her body six feet underground and soul above the clouds. But how was he supposed to live with her living her life and not knowing who he was anymore? Every moment and memory they shared was constantly playing through Luke’s head like a movie, forever living through the life he had with her for a year. And out of the hundreds of years he’d been alive, that one year was everything. Nothing could fucking compare. Tameera had been, and still was, everything to him, and he had been the same for her.

It wasn’t fair he could remember every single second and still be a stranger in her eyes.

In the quiet of the night where they sat on the bench, Luke took a breath. He watched the girl he knew to be the love of his life, and allowed himself to give into the darker side that existed for a moment as he breathed, “I hate that she’s happy with someone else.”

*****

THEN

When he appeared on her couch right as she entered her living room, Luke was almost proud that Tameera didn’t jump at the sight of him anymore. She hadn’t for a few months now, used to him appearing and disappearing without warning, but Luke saw the way her expression dropped when she looked at the state he was in.

“Are you okay?” she asked, brown eyes widened with worry as she approached him quickly, crouching in front him with her hands on his knees. She took in the cut on his right cheekbone, right below his eyes, gaze also dropping to the red rawness on his knuckles. He didn’t seemed to be anymore injured than that, fortunately, but that didn’t mean Tameera wasn’t still worried. “Did you get him?”

Luke’s lips quirked upwards in a soft smirk as he gazed down at her, feeling relaxed just by being in her apartment, in her presence. It smelled like apples, courtesy of the wax melt she put on, the scent familiar and, truthfully, homelike. “Yeah, I got him,” Luke confirmed, referring to yet another rogue demon he had to get rid of. After reporting to his father and being dismissed, Luke headed straight to Tameera. “Had some fight in him, but nothin’ I can’t handle.”

The concern was still present in her warm eyes, but Tameera smiled nonetheless before her finger grazed his black button down. “Your shirt’s ripped.”

Luke glanced down, catching sight of the torn through material which had gotten caught by the fucker’s blade, though he didn’t cut Luke. “Yeah,” he sighed before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Tameera’s forehead. “I’m gonna change real quick.”

He entered Tameera’s bedroom, making his way to the dresser and opening the drawer that held his clothes. Luke changed into a pair of sweats, deciding to forgo a shirt as the necklaces he wore felt cool against his bare chest, making his way out of the room and smiling briefly at the framed picture at Tameera’s bedside. It was a picture of the two of them, taken last month as they smiled like a pair of lovesick idiots at the camera. Because that’s what they were and Luke was okay with it. The only other person he’d ever loved was his mother, and he knew she’d be happy to know that he found something deep and honest and pure with Tameera.

“Come here,” he sighed once he neared her, pulling her towards him and pressing his lips to hers.

Luke felt her melt in his grasp, her lips responding immediately as her arms looped around his neck, pulling him close while also standing on her toes to meet his above average height. He smirked against her lips, feeling the familiar electric waves rush through his body whenever she was this close, using his hands to pick her up by her bare thighs and effortlessly lay her down on the couch behind her.

His tall, broad body hovered over Tameera’s, resting between her legs as he deepened the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of her inviting mouth as his golden curls brushed against her face. Her hands cupped Luke’s jaw, the scruff he sported tickling her skin wonderfully and the pendants of his dangling necklaces resting on her chest. The way Tameera’s lips moved, her kisses, were dizzying as Luke kept the pace slow; lazy and passionate all at the same time as his fingers trailed up the sides of her legs, biting down on her lower lip when he realized she decided to go completely bare under one of his black tees she’d stolen. Luke loved the way it hung off her frame, his body much taller and broader than hers, worn like a dress. But he also loved taking it off.

“Nothin’ on under, huh?” Luke breathed against her neck, hands sliding up to grip her sides, thumbs brushing her ribs under breasts as his lips and teeth and scruff worked their magic on her skin. She felt so wonderfully warm under him. “My angel’s makin’ things easy for me.”

Luke felt Tameera thread her fingers through his curls, her grip tight and needy and delicious. He could nearly feel her heart pounding beneath him, felt himself harden under his loose sweatpants as she tilted her head to give him more access to her skin. “You’re the angel here, Lu.”

He let out a quiet laugh, kissing her skin after making sure to leave his marks, feather light kisses trailing up her jaw before his lips found hers once more. “Only half.”

Tameera tilted her head to press her lips more into his, the kiss dizzying and fiery and desperate with want. They pulled away and she looked up at him with hooded brown eyes, her breathing heavy as he admired her lips, pinker than usual from all their kissing, wanting to just slant his lips over hers once more. One of her hands trailed down from the back of his head and Luke felt his muscles tighten at the sensation of her nails teasing down his back, blue eyes briefly flashing black as he looked down at her.

Luke saw the small smirk that pulled at her lips at the sight of his completely black eyes, brushing her lips against his as she spoke, “Show me what the other half’s capable of.”

Oh, he didn’t need to be told twice.

*****

NOW

When Luke got the message from Ashton, a simple Get to Tameera’s apartment now, Luke felt as though he was suddenly being pushed to the ground, the weight of absolutely nothing crushing him. He read the five word text over and over again before hastily shoving his phone in the pocket of his pants and running his fingers through his blonde hair before making his way to the exit.

“Back to earth so soon?”

The voice of his father stopped him in his tracks, momentarily forgetting he was still in the King of Hell’s throne room, with the King himself sitting on the chair up ahead. Luke’s jaw clenched, wanting to be out of there, but forced himself to turn and look at his father. “Yes.” No explanation, just a one word answer.

His father raised an eyebrow. “For what?” He tilted his head, blue eyes narrowing. “Are you off to see that human of yours?”

Warm brown eyes and a breathtaking smile flashed across Luke’s mind, but he didn’t dare let himself falter, holding his hands in front of him. “I haven’t seen her in a year,” he lied smoothly, aware the truth wouldn’t bode well for both him and Tameera. “Was just gonna go keep Cal some company.”

Luke didn’t waver as his father peered at him, trying to find any hints of lies or deceit that Luke expertly kept covered. Then the King nodded, speaking with a wave of his hand, “You’re dismissed.”

Luke made sure he didn’t just run out of there, keeping his pace casual. But once he was out of his father’s sight, Luke disappeared from the area, only to reappear a second later in Tameera’s living room.

His chest clenched as he stood in the familiar room, a place he hadn’t been in a year. Everything looked the same, save for a few plants on the windowsill and more books filling up the bookshelf. Luke breathed in, eyes closing briefly at the scent of apples wafting through his nose, a nostalgic pang resonating throughout his body. He hadn’t been here for a year, but it still felt like home. Still felt like a place where he belonged.

There were so many memories here; nights they spent watching whatever show Tameera was in the mood for, eating food that Luke couldn’t necessarily taste or needed to stay satiated like humans did, and spending even more time kissing, hugging, holding, and loving on each other. Times they spent in content bliss before everything went to shit. The last time he was here was a bitter, heart wrenching memory he hated, but Luke tried to push the prevalent thoughts away.

“Thank God you’re here.”

Luke turned to see Ashton appear from the hallway that led to Tameera’s room, a frown appearing on the blue eyed man’s face as he automatically said, “God had nothin’ to do with it. What’s going on? Why’d you call me here?”

It was dangerous for him to be near Tameera, much less her apartment, and Luke knew Ashton knew that. But his text had rattled Luke which is why he showed up without much of a thought, unsure of what the issue was. “There’s a problem which, I mean, can be solved fairly easily but I thought you’d want to know before I did anything else,” Ashton quickly rushed out, words jumbled together that it took Luke a moment to figure out what he was saying.

“A problem?” His skin flushed, hot and angry and, honestly, a bit scared. “What kind of problem?”

“Tameera was in an accident.” Luke’s breath stilled, blue eyes fierce and wide as everything seemed to come to a stop around him. An accident? She’d gotten hurt? Luke felt his tight throat dry up, chest aching painfully at the thought of her being taken from him, a fear he’s had for too long. He couldn’t breathe. That is, until Ashton spoke up again. “But she’s okay. I got to her, brought her here and healed her. She’s fine.”

Luke’s head was spinning, gaping at Ashton. “Then what the fuck’s the problem?” he demanded, voice harsh and impatient.

Ashton didn’t seem to fazed. “In the process of healing her injuries, I accidentally, uh, undid what your dad did to her.” Luke’s lips parted, blue eyes taking in the apologetic expression of the hazel eyed angel, whose eyebrows were drawn together in conflict. Luke could feel every drop of blood and grace running through his veins as Ashton let out an apologetic breath. “Luke, she remembers everything.”

There was a physical force behind Ashton’s words, pushing Luke back a few stumbling steps, eyes growing wide and lips parting in disbelief. Because that’s all he felt. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved, or nervous, or scared, or dreading the fact that the love of his life remembered every single moment the two of them shared, after a year of being the only one living through those times over and over again.

A slow, deep breath escaped Luke as he looked away from Ashton’s gaze and settled to peering at the floor, eyes unfocused as he processed this information. Luke was aware that he had the power of undoing his father’s work on Tameera, but he just couldn’t risk her life on going behind the King’s back and getting her memories back. The thought of losing her permanently haunted him. He was never one to sleep, but his eyes had always comfortably closed when he was in bed with Tameera, and after everything, Luke didn’t even remember what it was like laying on a bed.

But she remembered. Every single thing, she was made aware of. How was he supposed to—

“Luke.”

He hadn’t even finished processing everything when the sound of her voice snapped his head up, blue eyes zeroing in on the girl at the end of the hall. Their eyes met, and Luke instantly saw every ounce of recognition swirling in them; saw it behind the glassy tears that gathered. Saw the joy and relief and love that warmed those brown eyes he was so taken with.

Suddenly, it was like it was just the two of them in the room. Suddenly, everything was out the window because all Luke could focus on was her; this brown haired, dark eyed beauty who was looking at him like she knew exactly who he was, because she did. It was overwhelming, breathtaking, to see her finally look at him the way she once used to, no longer suppressed by the King of Hell’s magic that had been forced upon her. She was there. She remembered. And she was making her way towards him.

Ashton stepped to the side, rubbing a hand down his face, as Luke stared ahead, stunned and unmoving and completely lost in the woman approaching him. Tameera’s dark eyes were wide, scared and confused and filled with recognition as she gasped out a choked, “Luke.”

Her arms were around him in the next second, looping around his neck like they used to all the time as she pulled him down, and it was the first touch that had him snapping back into action, pulling him into reality. A shuddering breath escaped him, eyes clenching shut as his own arms hugged her waist, keeping her as close to him as possible, inhaling her familiar scent and feeling how her body perfectly fit with his.

He hugged her tightly, closely, head spinning as he was finally able to touch her, to feel her against him. Luke had gone so long without her, the past year stretching to be an eternity when he’s already liked hundreds of years, that being in her embrace felt like coming home.

“Oh, my God, I remember,” Tameera breathed, her voice shaking as her body shook in his hold, hands pressing into his back to keep him against her, as if she was afraid of letting go. Luke understood. “I remember you. I remember everything.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Luke murmured, voice thick as he spoke through a throat too tight with overwhelmed emotions. Love and relief, that’s all he could feel, that’s all he wanted to feel in this moment. Fuck everything else. He had her in his arms once more, and feeling her against him was everything. “I missed you,” he whispered, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. “You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

She let out a small sob, the sound tightening Luke’s chest painfully as it was muffled against his shoulder. “I missed you, too.” Tameera pulled away, and Luke’s hands instantly went to cup her cheeks, thumbs brushing at the tears freely escaping her dark eyes. Her face was flushed with her cries, lips trembling as her hands grasped his wrists. “I—I know I didn’t remember you but I just—I missed you. So much.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Luke assured quietly, pressing his forehead to hers, hands still on her face. His blue eyes melted into her brown ones, eyebrows drawing together apologetically as his lips parted to take a breath. “I love you, Meera. I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry about everything. I should’ve tried harder to protect you. Should’ve fought to keep your memories—”

“No, stop,” Tameera shook her head, closing her eyes before she looked at him. Her gaze trailed over Luke’s face, angelic in every aspect with his bright blue eyes and golden hair that reminded her of a halo. She committed him to memory in that moment, finally seeing and recognizing him after so long leaving her heart a thundering mess. It hurt how much she missed him. How much she loved him. “You have nothing to apologize for, okay?” She squeezed his wrists, breathing deeply. “Just—please don’t take my memories away again. Please. I can’t lose you again.”

The desperation that cracked her voice had Luke’s throat working, a heaviness settling on his shoulders as he peered at the woman he held. This beautiful, wonderful woman who didn’t deserve to live a year of a lie, who deserved someone so much better than his half angel, half demon self. Someone who wouldn’t put her life in danger.

All of these realizations were coming from the angelic, moral part of his soul. The demonized, selfish part pushed them all away, the notion that Tameera was his to love and cherish setting itself in stone. “I won’t, darling, I promise you,” Luke reassured her, hands still cupping her face. He saw some of the relief soften her dark eyes. He meant his words. He would be damned if he let someone erase her memories again, if they had to go through losing each other like that once more. This time, Luke was determined to protect her from his father, to make sure the two of them, especially her, would safe from getting killed or getting their memories erased.

Both of them had long forgotten about the angel in the room as Tameera tilted her head to capture Luke’s lips in a desperate, much awaited kiss that sent shocks through their veins. Her hands familiarly got lost in his blonde curls, and Luke couldn’t help but sigh against her as he returned the kiss just as eagerly.

He was home, and he was determined to protect it.

*****

THEN

His lips trailed the smooth skin of her neck, feeling his mouth quirk into a smile as she let out a melodic giggle at the feel of his scruff tickling her. Luke peeked up, catching sight of the two of them in the reflection in the mirror in front of them. They stood at her bathroom sink, a towel covering her up while another was wrapped around Luke’s hips, their skin damp and hair wet from the steamy shower they just shared.

He stood behind Tameera, but the sight of her was damn near ethereal; dark hair falling down her back, brown skin flushed a pretty pink from the hot shower, and of course purpling marks decorating her neck, courtesy of Luke’s incapability of keeping his mouth off of her. She looked bare and beautiful, a sight Luke considered himself to be blessed with, constantly in awe of how gorgeous she was and how she was all his.

A whole year of her did he get to experience. A whole year of her accepting him for who and what he is, for loving him all the same. And he wanted endless more.

“What’re you thinking about?” Tameera’s soft, lilting voice pulled him out of his thoughts, her left hand reaching up to brush her knuckles against his cheek.

Luke’s chin remained resting on her shoulder, their gazes meeting through the reflection. “You,” he answered truthfully, quietly. Then he smirked fondly. “And how you’re the best creation God ever came up with.”

The flush on her face darkened at his words, the apples of her cheeks prominent as she pressed her lips together to suppress the smile threatening to widen, which only made Luke grin. Fuck, she was adorable. “Can I be stupidly cheesy for a second?” Tameera murmured, gaze shyly meeting his in the mirror.

Luke chuckled shortly, pressing a kiss to her skin. “Of course, love.”

He watched the way her throat worked as she considered her words for a moment, before finally uttering them. “I never really, like, believed in soulmates or anything. But then you showed up, and along with everything else told me that souls are real. And it made me realize. . .” Luke waited, his blue eyes welcoming and kind and everything they weren’t for anyone else. Tameera’s finger brushed along his cheek, smiling shyly. “Made me realize that the existence of soulmates could be true. And that if they are, then I think you’re definitely mine.”

Luke’s lips parted at her words, at the sheepish blush on her cheeks and smile on her face, and if Luke was capable of it he was embarrassed to admit that he would’ve cried at the pure honesty in Tameera’s words. Here she was, gazing at him with a look of unadulterated love he’s never experience before, admitting to him that she believed the two of them belonged together. That of the hundreds of years Luke’s been around, the two of them meeting hadn’t happened by chance—that it was meant to be.

Telling him that she loved him, for everything that he was, but also because he was just Luke. Not an angel, or a demon, or the Prince of Hell—just Luke. And that was his favorite person to be.

Turning her around in his arms, Luke tucked a damp strand of her dark hair behind her ear, finger grazing her cheek as she looked up at him. He damn near melted on the spot at the sight of her, especially when she smiled and murmured, “I love you.”

Luke pressed his lips to hers, soft and slow. “I love you more.”

After changing into comfortable clothes, Tameera went to the kitchen to make herself some dinner while Luke pulled on his own clothes. But it wasn’t until he was pulling on his T-shirt did he hear the crash of what sounded like a plate shattering, freezing in the middle of Tameera’s room before his feet were moving without a thought.

He frowned, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor as he left the room and walked down the hallway. “Meera, babe, are you o—”

Luke froze, feeling every cell in his body come to a startling halt at the sight in front of him. He was well aware the utter horror was loud and clear in his expression, eyes wide and lips parted and muscles painfully tense. How could he not be, with Tameera standing there with a terrified look on her face, his father standing right behind her, one arm across her collarbones and the other hand holding the blade of his knife to her throat.

The kind of fear that paralyzed him in this moment—Luke had never felt it before. Never wanted to feel anything like it, and wanted to make sure Tameera never felt it either.

“So this is where you run off to,” his father’s too calm voice spoke, eyes flashing all red as opposed to a normal demon’s all black, seeing as he was the King of Hell. “Getting yourself involved with a human.”

He spat out the last word, as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and Luke’s throat worked. His eyes were on Tameera, whose lower lip was trembling and glassy eyes were looking at Luke, silently pleading him for help. Fuck, Luke needed to get her out of his father’s grasp, to get her away from that fucking knife. But he knew, one step forward and his father wouldn’t hesitate on using it on her.

Luke was at a loss; at a terrifying, raging loss as his mind worked overtime on figuring out what the hell to do. He was fast, but the edge of his father’s blade was right at Tameera’s throat and a single movement from him would have it splitting open, and there was no fucking way in hell Luke was risking that. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest and how he felt his stomach drop heavily, feeling so helpless in this moment as the woman he loved looked so utterly terrified in front of him.

“Please,” Luke spoke up, his voice quiet and unsteady, adam’s apple working. “Let her go. She’s—she’s innocent.”

“She’s a distraction,” his father snapped, red eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on Tameera, who let out a soft whimper that had Luke’s hands clenching into fists. “You’re the fucking Prince of Hell, Luke. No son of mine will be fraternizing with human filth.”

His words were accompanied by pressing the blade against Tameera’s skin, causing her to tilt her head back in an attempt to push away from it, eyes squeezing shut as she let out a pained cry. “No, stop!” Luke shouted, eyes widening as he took a step forward. He felt dizzy with anger and terror, wishing he never put Tameera in this position, never put her life in danger. He couldn’t even protect her from his own father. Luke wanted his lower lip to stop quivering, but he’d already shown how much Tameera meant to him, and that was a sign of weakness in the eyes of the king. “I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want, okay? Just don’t—don’t hurt her. Let her go and I’ll do whatever the fuck you want.”

Tameera’s eyes opened, tears wetting her cheeks as she sobbed out a soft, small, “Luke.”

Eyebrows drawn upwards and lips pressed together, Luke offered his girl a reassuring smile, wishing he appeared more convincing. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he let this happen. His damp hair sticking to his skin seemed to be sending shivers down his spine, joining in on the panic chilling him.

“The way I see it, you’ve got two options, son,” his father spoke up, still holding Tameera in his grasp, eyes still the same bloody red. He tilted his head, gazing down at the girl with a cool gaze that burned Luke with the desire to rip his eyes out. “I either kill this human of yours.” Luke’s lips curled in a sneer as Tameera inhaled sharply. “Or I rid of her memories of you and you swear to keep your distance, and if you fail I will kill her. The choice is yours.”

The air rushed out of Luke’s lungs and choked him, widened eyes gaping at his father as he made sense of the words that had just been uttered. Keeping her alive was the only option, it wasn’t even a question. But the mere thought of Tameera not remembering Luke, not remembering the moments they’ve shared together in the last year, had Luke feeling a kind of physical pain that was a thousand times worse than getting punched or kicked or stabbed.

But the thought of Tameera being dead was downright destructive. The thought of her being killed because of him actually did make Luke want to throw up like a human. It made him tremble and dizzy and flush with grief and rage he wished to take out on his father.

And as much as Luke despised this situation, hated himself for putting Tameera in this kind of danger and hated that look of complete fear on her face, he knew her being alive and having no remembrance of him was better than her being dead. Far better.

“Let me say goodbye,” Luke choked out, his blue eyes meeting Tameera’s widened brown ones, voice cracking as he continued, “Before you take her memories.”

Tameera’s jaw dropped with a gasp, stumbling when her father pushed her away from him without a word. Luke met her halfway, hands steadying her by grasping her shoulders before coming up to cup her jaw. “Luke, what’re you doing?” Tameera shook her head, brown eyes never ceasing the tears that gathered and fell. Her own hands were fisting his shirt, pulling him towards her as she looked at him with a desperation that had something shattering in his chest. “I can’t lose you, please. This isn’t—”

“It’s the only way, Meera,” Luke whispered, cutting her off with a defeated shake of his head, inhaling sharply when her grip on him tightened and a new wave of tears leaked out of her eyes. Shit, she was breaking him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. His palms were on her cheeks, fingers tangling into her damp hair as he pressed his forehead to hers. Luke felt his eyes and nose burning, knew it was because he wanted to fucking cry; the last time he did so when his mother died. And then never again. Until now. “I love you, angel.” His blue eyes looked into her dark ones, throat tight at the fear and sadness and distraught he could see. “You make me the best version of myself and I can never thank you enough for it. You’re everything to me.”

A heartbroken sob escaped her, an emptiness in her chest as she looked at the golden, bright man in front of her, who had scars of his own but was the most beautiful person she’s ever met. And loved. “You’re everything to me, too,” she whispered brokenly, tasting the salt of her tears. “Even if I don’t remember, you need to, okay? You need to remember that I love you, Luke. So much.”

He hated this. He hated this so much, and if there was ever any trace of humanity left in his father, Luke knew for a fact that it was gone now.

He pressed his lips to Tameera’s, tasting the salt of her tears and the strawberry chapstick, the kiss desperate and loving and utterly heartbreaking. Luke had no idea how he would live without this, without her. Had no idea if he was even capable of it. He knew, before it’s even happened, that life without Tameera would go back to only consisting of doing his father’s bidding, mindlessly running around and taking care of any demon that decided to go rogue. Without Tameera, life would have no meaning. Just like the previous hundred or so years of his life.

It was a snap of his father’s fingers, and then they were gone.

The memories, as well as Luke.

*****

NOW

“I know I didn’t remember you this past year and was with someone else, but I just—I still missed you, Lu.”

He gazed up at her, lazy with a small smile on his lips. Luke’s head was tilted back on the couch, hands gently on Tameera’s hips as she straddled his lap, the tip of her finger tracing the line of his jaw, nose, and cheekbones lightly. Her left hand was at the top of his head, fingers tangling and pushing back his curls away from his face—a face she couldn’t stop gazing at, recommitting to memory. Luke watched her watch him, adam’s apple bobbing at the feel of her finger tracing his features, eyes fluttering at the sensation of her playing with his hair.

With her, he was at his calmest. With her, he wasn’t an angel or a demon or the prince of the damned. He was just Luke.

“I know, darling,” he murmured, hand raising to graze her cheeks, his rings cooling her skin. Luke looked at her, blue eyes intensely taking in every detail of her face, as if he’d ever forget them. His thumb softly grazed her lower lip, adding, “There wasn’t a single day I didn’t think about you. Just like you said, I remembered everything. Never forgot.”

The corners of Tameera’s lips twitched upwards, her own gaze dropping to his lips before a small frown scrunched at her eyebrows. In a dejected mumble, she added, “I hate that I can’t say the same thing.”

An empathetic frown drew Luke’s eyebrows together, knowing it wasn’t her fault that he never crossed her mind this last year. It was his. “D’you blame me?” Luke questioned, hands returning to her hips. “Are you angry with me for what happened?”

He wouldn’t blame her if she was. It was because of him that she was nearly killed by his father in the first place, it was because of his love for her that got them in this situation. “No, of course not,” Tameera answered with a frown and a shake of her head. Her hands rested on the sides of his neck, thumbs grazing his jaw. “You did it to protect me, Lu. How can I ever be mad at you for that?”

Luke took a breath, relief overwhelming him as a small smile tilted at his lips, hinting at his dimples. It never failed to amaze him how fucking wonderful Tameera was. In every aspect. The kindest, most stunning soul and she was all his.

“What about your father?” she questioned quietly, eyes meeting his, and Luke hated the spark of fear he noticed in her brown irises. “What if he finds out about us again?”

His jaw clenched at the thought of that. “I’ll take care of him.”

Tameera shot him a look. “I know you mean you’re gonna kill him. Are you sure? He’s your father, Luke.”

“He threatened to kill you. He erased your memories,” Luke shot back, his grip on her hips tightening as his face contorted into a glare, not exactly aimed at her rather than the topic of conversation. “As long as he’s alive, you’re going to be in danger, Meera, because if he can’t kill you himself he’ll sure as hell send others after you.” He swallowed, letting out a sharp breath. “When he dies, I become the King, and no demon will go after you. If they so much as think about it, I’ll get rid of them. There’s no fucking question about it.”

Tameera took a breath, dark eyes looking him over, catching no sight of remorse or deceit or anything of the sort. He was being completely honest, determined to make sure she was safe and determined to be rid of his father. Tameera hated that this was something Luke felt that he had to do, to kill his own father just so she was safe. She felt guilty, but she also remembered all of the things Luke’s told her about the King of Hell. He was a demon, after all; she wasn’t surprised there weren’t any good traits about him, and Tameera hated that Luke had to be around someone like that without his mother.

And yet, he still amazed her. Because he was someone so much better, carrying the traits of an angel rather than the burdens of a demon. Despite what Luke might say or think, Tameera knew that while he was the Prince of Hell, he was nowhere near as corrupt or hellish than any other demon she thought would be.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Tameera gasped, shifting off of Luke’s lap and settling next to him, wide eyes on the men that appeared in her living room. Three of them, all tall and handsome, a brunette and two blondes, whom Tameera recognized immediately once her initial shock wore off at the surprise entrance. It was Ashton, the angel who saved her after the accident, Calum who was a demon who worked alongside Luke, and the last was Michael, another angel. Tameera had met all three of them when she and Luke got together last year, though they understandably didn’t drop by often. Ashton and Michael had been sweet, unsurprisingly, but Calum had at first intimidated the shit out of her; tall, dark and handsome with a face that just screamed not to be fucked with.

“What’s going on?” Luke questioned, frowning at the arrival of his three friends as he sat up.

“Hell is going to hell,” Calum informed factually.

Tameera frowned as Luke raised an eyebrow. “What’re you talking about?”

Ashton patted the green eyed blonde’s shoulder. “Michael, why don’t you tell Luke what happened?”

Both Tameera and Luke looked at the other angel, who pursed his lips. His expression was unreadable, but he took a breath before announcing, “Your father is dead. I killed him. I’m, uh, sorry?”

His last statement came out as more of a question, unsure if an apology was needed at all since he was aware of Luke’s relationship with his father, though feeling awkward if he didn’t say it. Both Luke and Tameera gaped at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened and jaws unhinged as they processed the angel’s words.

It was silent for a moment as Tameera glanced at Luke, wondering what he was thinking as he stared at Michael, before asking, “What happened?”

There was no emotion in Luke’s voice as Tameera pulled her lower lip into her mouth. She wasn’t sure exactly how to feel; relieved that the one who was after her was gone, but conflicted because she didn’t know how Luke was feeling.

“He had a deal with some of the higher ups to return a few wrongfully collected souls,” Michael began. “I was sent to collect them, but he ambushed us with a few of his men. Ash showed up to help me out but ultimately. . . I drove the knife into him.” Michael raised his hand to scratch the back of his head, for the first time looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, man. I know he was your father and that you wanted to be the one to end it—”

“It’s fine.” Those two words took everyone off guard as they looked at Luke, every single gaze on him radiating worry and surprise as he frowned at nothing in particular. Then, Luke’s blue eyes looked at Michael. “I planned on being the one to kill him, yeah, but honestly. . . I don’t care who did it. As long as it got done.” His hand reached and grabbed Tameera’s, linking their fingers together as Luke smiled at their joined hands before his blue eyes met her dark ones, and the relief she saw on his face had her body relaxing. “Just wanted Meera to be safe.” He looked at Michael, smile widening. “Thanks to you, she will be.”

Michael’s lips parted in surprise at Luke’s words, before pressing them together in a small smile and offering a nod. As for Luke and Tameera, they both felt as though they could breathe again. The biggest threat that had been looming over their heads was gone, easily and without them having to do anything. And while Luke had, at first, wanted to be the end to his father’s story, he didn’t mind that it was Michael.

There was no remorse and sadness running through Luke’s veins. He had given up on his father long ago, had wanted nothing to do with him and only did his bidding to keep Tameera safe. But he was gone, and Luke felt nothing but relief that the love of his life was finally safe.

“You know what this means, right?” Calum spoke up, raspy voice catching everyone’s attention as he quirked a thick eyebrow at Luke. “The new king needs to make an appearance.”

Luke nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Then he stood up, putting his hand out to Michael. “Thank you, Mike,” he added, tone sincere and grateful.

The angel let out a short chuckle before grasping Luke’s hand, giving it a firm shake before smirking, “Long live the King.”

A laugh escaped Luke after that, and then Michael, Ashton, and Calum were gone within a blink of an eye. Luke turned to Tameera, who was looking at him expectantly, and Luke offered her a hand. She took it and let him pull her up, pulling her close as he looked down at her. “I’m gonna be back in a few, yeah? Just gotta get everything in order and then I’m yours.”

Tameera smiled, nodding as she wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at his pretty, angelic blue eyes. And as she looked into them, a thought crossed her mind, and Tameera wondered, “Do your eyes turn red now? Instead of black, like your father’s?”

Luke lifted his chin for a moment, before flashing his eyes. He watched as Tameera’s eyes widened, lips parting as she stared at him in wonder, fingers absently brushing against his temple near his right eye. She looked completely enthralled, not a single ounce of fear in her pretty brown eyes as he gazed at his newly red eyes. “You tell me.”

“Oh, wow,” Tameera breathed, the awe evident in her voice. The way she was looking at him, completely lost in what she was seeing, had Luke smirking smugly, especially when Tameera hummed, “Did you know red’s my favorite color?”

Luke scoffed, arms resting on her shoulders with his hands linking behind her head, eyes dissolving back into blue as he returned, “What don’t I know about you, sweetheart?”

Tameera rolled her dark eyes, knowing that he was right and cocky about it as she pressed her hands to his chest. “Whatever. Don’t you have demons to rule over?”

Luke let out a dramatic sigh that had Tameera smiling. “That, I do.” He looked down at her, at her pretty smile and kind eyes and kept her close. “But I’ll be back soon, hmm?” He felt the need to reassure her of his return, to make it clear that he was coming back and that nothing would keep them apart for too long. They’d lost a year and Luke was going to make sure they wouldn’t lose anymore.

“Okay,” Tameera nodded, understanding Luke’s desire to remind her. Then, she smiled, eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. “My boyfriend, the King of Hell. Has a nice ring to it.”

Luke laughed, airy and full of adoration for the brunette in front of him, inhaling her sweet scent as his lips curled into a smirk. “It does, doesn’t it?” Tameera giggled and Luke ducked his head to slant his lips over hers in a slow kiss, sucking on her lower lip before murmuring, “I’ll be back in a bit and you and me? We’re gonna have some fun, my queen.”

Tameera’s face flushed with heat, biting her lower lip as the smile spread across her mouth as she looked up at the tall blonde, brushing a golden curl out of Luke’s face as she murmured, “Come home soon.”

Home. Hell was his kingdom to rule, but Tameera was his home, and he would always come back to her.

tags: @crownedbyluke @rishlo @bitchinbabylon @ghostofcalum @dxmncalum @letsfxckindance @unsexilexi @calumthoodsyonce @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @softforcal @hotmessmichael @astroashtonio @valentinelrh @meetashthere @roselukes @slimthicccal @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @grittyisathot @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @soulmatecashton @babygirlcashton @biwriting @sublimehood @old-zeppelin-shirt @inlovehoodx @hereforlukescruff @poppedpins @aybbblondie @invisiblexcth @mysteriouslycali @jetblackyoungblood @5secondssofssummer @paqueretteash @kinglycalum @fucking5sos @ohhmuke @theagenderwhocriedwolf @akacalciumhood @bloodlinecal @wrappedaroundcal @heavenlyhemminqs @caelumhood @cathartichaoss @calumsmermaid @calumh-excess @xhaileyreneex @cxddlyash @emma070900 @complete-trash-101 @calntynes @lifeakaharry @empathycth @kinglyhemmings @andreabjoerg @rosecoloredash @cliffordcntrl @asht0ns-world @lipstickstainfading @sunnysidesblog @2k17muke @babyloncalm @kaxseychill @hearts-to-the-sky @cal-pal-cuddles @calistheloml @gettingjillywithit @5sos-stan4lyfe @flannelpunkcalum

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incarnateirony · 5 years

Text

So, some DeanCas thoughts.

I went on a rant in a GC today -- in a good way -- and I felt like sharing my mood with the class.

First of all, I’m going to disclaimer this. I am a bi!Dean supporter, even if the following text seems to be dismissive of elements of it along the ride. But when it comes to Dean and Cas -- other, extensive, very loud wearing-a-sign-for-the-stubborn-folks that have chosen to miss the other blatant drops -- isn’t even necessary to me. On an LGBT rep level I understand it, even if I’ve had talk about the unfair moving goalposts that het culture has trained is into that they, themselves don’t have to meet -- but that’s another rant.

My general thoughts on Destiel come around the fact that what they have transcends anything explicitly about sexuality. But that isn’t a way to try to call it bromance, or claim it isn’t queer, or slap that now highly abused queerplat on as the refurbished dogwhistle for bromance rather than what it was intended for -- it’s still definitely, and majorly, queer umbrella.

It’s a nonbinary entity with a transcendental love for a single human being learning to reflect that, and to return it, even if he struggles to comprehend it. Jensen Ackles has even said similarly, himself. That alone makes Castiel canonically LGBT+ umbrella, as much as naysayers want to bob and weave around that. It’s impossible for Castiel to ever be a cismale. Literally impossible. It’s not subtext, it’s literally any basic understanding of gender theory.

But that’s just the beginning.

This nonbinary (nonhuman) entity has little to no interest -- especially when extradimensional -- to engage in any form of survival instinct that it doesn’t natively have. It doesn’t eat, it doesn’t sleep, it doesn’t urinate, and while he’s immortal, not even everybody poops. His species doesn’t breed. It has no instinct for that installed as a base line mechanism, just a learned taste for it unique to each individual, which he’s barely had time to explore -- when human, much less an angel without the biological impulse, much less in a busy lifestyle forever engaged. He might twist a demon around his finger to throw her over a flame like a bridge, he may entertain new ideas, but these are fleeting, distant ideas. So it’s never about that. What they have isn’t just about that.

This nonbinary entity has no specific demands of the man it loves, but will do almost anything with and for the man it loves. Be that dying, or watching the Lost Boys for the 127th time, or wearing a cowboy hat, or restraining -- or at least hiding -- most impulses to roll its eyes at the bad jokes. And if and when it all settles -- if they haven’t done so already -- maybe lay together. Because that IS a thing that humans do.

The queer and/or homoromantic nature of their relationship is still there. It’s still queer. And it’s not even remotely plat. Applications of queerplat recently on them are an outright appalling misuse of it beyond its intended purpose -- a repackaged idea of “bromance” now that the old dogwhistle has lost its effect. It’s entirely possible to remove fanon goggles and still look at the show and watch the sheer difference in handling between plat, frat, and romantic connections in the show.

It’s queer-romantic. But as said, if and when that dust settles, if it hasn’t quietly already -- between heartsong tethers more powerful than the forces of creation and destruction hearing the cry of pining, between mystery mixtapes, jilted lover emotions, and wifely parallel fates -- it’s not natively specifically about if Cas is a dude, or a chick, or w h a t e v e r. Should the day come that we find out Dean and Cas did the dues, it’s not because Dean is bi, or gay, or str8, or any of that -- and it’s not because Cas is or isn’t a dude. It’s because it’s Cas.

“I thought you’d gotten over trying to label me.” - Castiel, 5.04

If, under the supposition that one day physicality is confirmed, we were to put a label on them -- their specific engagement is more demi in nature than it is anything about bisexuality; it’s not about loving either/all genders equally in Dean’s case, but about not seeing a gender. A demi-pan arrangement, if you will, over a queer-romantic relationship. And again, I say this as a bi!Dean supporter, but not with obligation of specifically attaching the profound and complex nature of their relationship to what has read as, at least, bi-Dean subtext (if not deadass text for people who are choosing not to plug their ears and make absurd excuses at certain moments or are just that hetnorm.)

Don’t even try to get started arguing about Jensen’s Dated Hot Take. Actors are flawed. Actors get all kinds of ideas tangled in their heads. Mark P plays Lucifer as redeemable and deserving redemption in his head but that doesn’t bear any semblance to what’s actually going on in the product, that doesn’t make it remotely canon. Jared Padalecki thinks Sam isn’t Jack��s dad despite his own character calling him his (and the others’) kid. Actors are not writers, and at times, actors don’t even realize what they’ve communicated and presented. Or what the people making the content they’re acting for have, for that matter. Just don’t. Don’t shit up this post and go down that road. Do not be that repetitive, cyclic asshole that thinks you’re making a stellar point by being eternally regressive and on echo of things that basic logic and understanding of creative process shreds before it ever sticks a landing. Spare us all some time.

What they have is unique, powerful, intensely romantic -- and, at some point, went so far as to transition into outright domestic. If there’s a backdoor set of hanky panky going on that doesn’t make camera because it shifts the genre or mood of the show, okay -- disappointing by standard of anyone wanting to catch that roving representation goalpost we help push around unintentionally in the interest of winning arguments we’ll never win. A man can ask a woman if she wants to go to dinner as the closing act of a show without ever affirming they’re both straight (they could be pan! Straight isn’t canon! HurRr) or interested and never seeing physicality, but we all have operating brains. Mulder and Scully, a het pair that kissed, still had noromos doing mental gymnastics to try to explain why it wasn’t REALLY canon.

People who don’t want it will never accept it. That’s something the generation wants to get used to now. But let’s make sure we don’t also move ourselves into an era of performative gays where every character must come out and say, “I AM BISEXUAL, NO REALLY, REALLY REALLY” at the top of their lungs for the great interpersonal nature of people in general to be taken as valid. Straight isn’t a factory default where it doesn’t need to be confirmed but everything else does. Start taking ownership of LGBT+ rights to exist in their obvious romance without letting het culture make YOU run the goalposts around for them in a trap game. (”If they don’t kiss, it doesn’t count! Also gays just make everything about kissing, it’s never just about a romance, you all just want porn! AHAH! Checkmate.”)

Don’t defend the content as if you have to prove it. Own it. Own your right to exist without performing. Own your right to love whether or not it works out. Own your right to be you. Culture is getting to a point where the regressives that loathe it have to defend themselves, not the other way around. Own that. Drop anchor. Don’t run to meet them in the middle, there’s never a middle, let’s look at the democratic party slide to meet the red team in the middle. Same shit, guys.

So back to the hanky panky thing -- even if that came out? Sure, as a bi Dean fan, I guess I’d be happy. But I’d also not try to label it. I’d take that lesson from season 5 Castiel. Because it’s something well beyond labels, as long as we accept that it is queer, and it is beautiful.

#supernatural #destiel #deancas

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safetypinsymphony · 5 years

Text

“Is it a plot twist, or is it just lying?” and brief thoughts on the SPN road so far

To paraphrase an exchange from Bob's Burgers: Is it a plot twist, or is it just lying?

This seems to be an evolving theme of Supernatural's Season 15. I haven't been keeping up on my reviews here, dern it, but after some mild kerfuffles I've experienced between various fans (including myself), I'm re-inspired. Or perhaps incensed.

“Writers lie.”

When we first learned that God is a right asshole and as such, opened a rift in Hell before checking out to leave our intrepid heroes to deal with the undead invasion spilling forth—and then decided to check back in just to start fucking with the Winchesters again—I wasn't overly bothered, but nor was I particularly thrilled by the implications. I was begrudgingly interested to see what was evolving.

Well.

Kinda like watching a slo-mo train wreck, as it turns out. We're witnessing how this canon ret-conning is already starting to fray. How playing fast and loose with what the show has established as the rules of its universe is creating this “It was all just a dream” Dallas-esque meta embarrassment.

Seasons back, when the show first shattered the Fourth Wall by introducing the SPN books and conventions into its own mythos, that self-awareness was a really risky move. To this day, you either love it or hate it, but it managed to hold together because of the infrequency with which it was explored, and the skills of the writers at the time. (Even then, we got Season Seven, Time for a Wedding, arguably one of the more tasteless episodes of the whole series.)

As Dabb and company are choosing to further explore Chuck-as-God-and-puppetmaster, one of the show's important thematic cornerstones, that of the value of <i>freewill</i>, is taking a big hit. And the show knows it. They've had Dean come right out and air his disgruntlement with it several times already. So we get it, yeah, it's a thing. It's what Dabb is using to propel this last season (along with rampant fanservice and as many returning characters—dead or alive—that he can shoehorn into 43 minutes).

Now, I do loves me some fanservice on occasion, and there are certainly quite a few characters who died in rather inglorious ways and probably deserved better send-offs than they got, but I'm not sure 'hanging a flag on it' does enough to compensate for what this means in regards to the past 14 years of the show. In asserting that all of the past canon has been little more than Chuck's manipulations, it also means that the viewers' investment into the whole of the SPN universe has been hung on a lie within its own framework. “Ret-conning” doesn't even come close to describing this level of narrative dishonesty. (Wow, that sounded dramatic, but it's kind of true, you know?) By undermining the canon of the past 14 years, the current show creators have made Gamble, Carver and yes, even Kripke unwittingly complicit in this snake oil operation.

If SPN were just a movie, two hours designed from the jump to play out this way, I might think it was a little cheesy but oh well. I'm not that invested. (See 'Cabin in the Woods', which was a helluva fun neo-horror romp, in a similar vein.) But this is FOURTEEN YEARS we're talking here. That's a loooong time to be invested in a narrative, just to have the latest showrunner unseat all the canon that came before him. The only thing that matters one iota now? Season 15. It, apparently, is the only “true” canon. The only canon where “Chuck” is revealing his hand and operating with any in-world narrative legitimacy.

Thanks, I hate it.

I'm not going to pretend I like what Dabb is proposing. The segment of fandom hungry to bust Sam and Dean's so-called co-dependency is pretty stoked about it, naturally; they see classic SPN as toxic and unhealthy (and let's be real, in the way of a certain ship).

But here's the thing that gives me The Feels™, and it's not turning the Winchesters (or Cas, for that matter) into domesticated, well-adjusted Hallmark Channel leading men. (That's what, you know, The Hallmark Channel is for.) And it's sure as hell not invalidating the canon of the show I fell in love with.

It's urban legends, black humor, the endless highways and guttering neon. It's two brothers raised on the fringes of society, their unbreakable fidelity, finding comfort wherever they can since tomorrow, they may meet the business end of a rugaru. It's the colorful characters they meet along their travels. It's Led Zeppelin, greasy spoons and ancient tomes. It's faith and heart and sacrifice.

Unless Dabb dismantles these things too. At which point, a pox upon him and his house. Writers may lie, but this would be universe assassination.

●●●

Oh! I was going to mention some episodes too, lol. Here are a few quick take-aways, since I've already blabbed on enough.

Episode 3: RIP, Rowena. I looooooved the line, “But I believe in prophecy. I believe in magic.” That was SO her. Of course an ancient witch, the most powerful in the game, would live (and die) on those words. And kudos to the show for remembering it put that Sam gun on the mantel in Season 13, iirc. Pretty sure we'll see Rowena again before the grand finale, though.

Big happy for the suggestion that Sam is a witch-in-the-making. Also glad Cas finally got his brain wrapped around the fact that Dean was pissed at him but he didn't need to take it anymore. Dean has some valid reasons to need space from Cas, and it's a handy way to get Cas off doing his own thing (as Misha is not contracted for every episode).

Berens did a solid job writing this episode, but I'm glad we've wrapped the customary 3-episode season premier. I had high hopes for myriad crusty, decaying dead shambling around a grim world, but instead we got a handful of ghosts, literally running around in broad daylight. The first two episodes were … clumsy.

Episode 4: 'Atomic Monsters', was written by my favorite current SPN writer, Davy Perez, and he did not disappoint! Something about the way he writes dialogue sounds so naturalistic to me, and he manages to tap into authentic feelings in the characters without feeling rushed or contrived. I believe his stories. I never get thrown out of his episodes.

The episode was lovingly directed by Jensen Ackles. The guy flat out knows what to give us. That whole beginning red scene, with Dean and his John Wick bad-assery and then … then we get a Sam who has never eschewed his demon blood addiction. It was chilling and gorgeously actualized and I might have watched that bit more than is healthy.

And we got to revisit Becky Rosen, who is now a fangirl—like many of us—but she's grown up and assimilated fandom enjoyment into her daily life. Perez did a great job in saving Becky, as a character. She isn't the butt of anyone's joke anymore. She isn't a dangerously unbalanced fan. She's just … one of us. Thank you, sir.

Episode 5: Fun stuff in this one! Brotherly banter, Sam and Dean dressed as sort-of Fish and Game employees, a brilliant turn by actress Anna Grace Barlow reprising Lilith (no one saw this coming!), werewolf brothers as yet another example of monsters that aren't as cut-and-dried as hunters might like, and more 'visions' from Sam wherein Sam is Lucifer again, and Dean still has the Mark of Cain. YUM.

But there were also a couple some not-so-fun things. The girls glamping in the beginning was just plain silly, the fight scenes had too many jump cuts (imho), but mostly, why on earth would they leave the God gun in the glove compartment of the Impala?? I noted that back when Dean put it in there, Episode 2 I think it was, but I seriously doubt they wouldn't have locked it up safely after that. Please, foo. Don't make our characters stupid.

By episode's end, Dean is clearly frustrated and demoralized by their predicament. It's clear Sam and Dean will be taking turns buoying each other's flagging spirits this season. As co-dependent as ever. I am here for this.

●●●

This post has gone on long enough, so I think I'll hold Episode 6 ruminations for a separate entry, and maybe dish about where we think the series is heading, for a finale. Anyone reading this probably has a numb butt by now. Anywho, thanks for hanging in with me, gang! Talk at you later...

#Safetypin stuff #S15 meta #S15 episode reviews #such as they are #pinch o' salt

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shirtlesssammy · 5 years

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9x10: Roadtrip

Then:

The less I say about Kevin dying, the better.

Now:

So I never like to see a Winchester say goodbye to another hunter when there’s a pyre involved, but this opening montage is pretty well done. Bob Seger really is a great choice. Dean is in a really bad place —like smashing furniture bad. Eeef.

Rock concert time: Well, what we’re supposed to believe is a rock star getting the rundown on the upcoming concert.

They open his room at the venue to find Sam Ezekiel Gadreel. The rock star doesn’t mind (and is it just me who’s never bought the acting here?) Anywho, he calls his assistant a bitch and tells her to get lost. Classy AF. The rock star is really an angel named Thaddeus though. It seems that Thaddeus tortured Gadreel when he was imprisoned in Heaven. He was just doing his job, man, chill out! Torturing Gadreel’s boyfriend Abner though? Totes for fun. (And I realize that the construct of relationships/attraction/companions to angels is foreign to them which is why Cas’s attachment to Dean is so compelling —so human of Cas— but I’ve always been fascinated with this comment —and later when Gadreel and Abner actually interact. I will always read that their attachment ran deeper than regular angel brotherhood?? But that opens another whole can of worms and I’m not going there.) Loong story short, Gadreel stabs him with his angel blade.

Dean is packing up his gear when Cas appears in the war room. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in a while. Cas has angel grace again. He notices the chaos of the library and Dean tells him what happened.

Dean tells Cas that he’s going to kill the angel that killed Kevin. Cas reminds Dean that will also kill Sam. Dean has major regret for allowing Gadreel to possess Sam.

*Classic DeanCas dialog Alert*

Dean: God, I was so damn stupid.

Cas: You were stupid for the right reasons.

Cas continues to reassure Dean that what he did was right and he tells Dean that if Sam knew an angel was possessing him, he’d be strong enough to cast the angel out. They will have to bypass the angel to get to Sam somehow. They need Crowley, who’s still chained up in the dungeon.

He wants to negotiate. Dean agrees on taking Crowley out of the dungeon for his help with breaking through to Sam.

Since Gadreel took Baby (the real travesty of the whole situation, amirite?), the trio walk to Cas’s car that inexplicably stopped working a couple miles from the bunker. A demon under Abaddon’s rule sees them. Once at the car, Dean quickly figures out that it’s out of gas. As they pile into the car, Crowley calls “shotgun”, but Dean tells him he’s in the back. That prompts a very smug smile from Cas, before Dean tells him, he’s in the back too, to watch over Crowley. LAME.

At the bar that Gadreel’s first vessel just happens to work at, Metatron meets up with Gadreel and the tablets. They discuss Metatron’s Arya Stark list. The killing of Kevin Tran didn’t sit well with Gadreel and he didn’t kill Dean because he wasn’t on the list. Metatron gives him another name. Gadreel balks at it, but Metatron makes it clear that in order to prove himself, he’s got to do what Metatron tells him to do.

At a business, Cas, Crowley, and Dean wait for one of Crowley’s contacts to meet them. This associate can track anything and will be able to find Sam. His contact finally calls for Crowley and will only meet with him. Once alone Cecily and Crowley discuss how hot Cas is.

Downstairs, Cas can’t hear the conversation due to it being warded. Great.

Crowley and Cecily also discuss Abaddon and Crowley asks for her to find the Impala. They learn it’s in Summerset, Mass. And off they go!

Cut to the Impala (and Gadreel) pulling up to a house where the next person on Metatron’s list lives. When Gadreel sees the man, he realizes that it’s actually Abner (his boyfriend). They’re both shocked to see each other. Abner (or the man he’s possessing) has a family. He tells Gadreel to come back in a couple hours so they can catch up. (Someone please just explain the angst and yearning in this scene, plz?)

Fade to later, Gadreel and Abner are in his living room and catching up.

Abner has changed. He has a simple life and he’s making amends. Gadreel tells him that he killed Thaddeus. Abner just wants to forget all that they went through. He loves his family and they love him.

Cas and Dean are just strolling down the street five feet apart because they’re just dudes that do that.

They find the Impala and enter the dark home. Dean finds a dead Abner on the floor and Gadreel washing his hands in the kitchen. He quickly takes out Dean, but Cas is waiting in the trenches and punches Gadreel out (like, that shouldn’t affect an angel but I like to believe that Sam’s noggin is SO soft that it’s just an auto response to the vessel at this point) Also, SWOON BAMF CAS.

Elsewhere, Abaddon chats with Cecily who reveals what she knows of Crowley’s current status. She also lets slip that she helped Crowley out with a little favor. When she tries to explain that she’s cleverly playing both sides, Abaddon shows her appreciation with the ol’ knife-to-the-chest.

Back with the angel crew, Sam/Gadreel is tied to a chair while Cas, Dean, and Crowley interrogate him. Cas has never seen the angel possessing Sam before and they demand his true identity. Dean orders him out of his brother. Cas confirms that Sam’s injuries are no longer life threatening and he can help to heal him now. So it’s safe for Sam to be SANS….SERAPH.

Crowley begins to stick needles into Sam’s head. UGH GROSS. It’s not pleasant. Sam/Gadreel screams and whimpers in agony. Dean eventually can’t take it and leaves the immediate vicinity. Cas follows him out. He understands; it’s hard to see his friend suffering. Dean changes the subject: how is Cas?

Dean inquires with great sensitivity about Cas’s power up. It’s just like changing out the batteries, yes? Errrrrrrrrrr not quite. Dean apologizes for kicking Cas out of the bunker and we cry in his face a little bit. The worst thing is how Cas looks surprised...like he doesn’t think anything warrants an apology. They both admit to make mistakes.

*Classic DeanCas dialog Alert*

Dean: We’re a couple of dumbasses?

Cas: I prefer the word trusting. Less dumb. Less ass.

Excuse me while I build a shrine around this scene and light some votive candles.

Crowley interrupts with a breakthrough on Sam. Does this count as Interrupting!Sam? Sam/Gadreel starts rattling off Enochian, including the name “Gadreel.” Cas looks like a building stormcloud. He’s never seen Gadreel, because he’s been locked away in Heaven’s prison for pretty much their entire existence. It turns out that Gadreel’s backstory isn’t terribly innocent: his main claim to fame was letting Lucifer into the Garden. Castiel clearly bears an old angelic grudge against the guy: God left because of Gadreel. It’s hitty-kicky time.

Dean has to hold Cas back. (Or, Cas lets Dean pull him back.)

Gadreel smirks at them and mocks their efforts to unlock Sam’s consciousness. Dean looks like a caged squirrel and demands that Cas possess Sam so he can help oust Gadreel. Cas is horrified - also he CAN’T because Sam can’t consent to it. Crowley clears his throat and raises his hand. He can jump into any ol’ head he wants. Cas looks appalled at this suggestion but Squirrel asks him to burn off Sam’s warding tattoo. It’s time to let Crowley jump into Sam’s head, as well. Crowley’s price is his freedom.

Crowley’s a man of his word, at least. He sits down across from Sam and the chains are removed. Dean hands over their code word, “Poughkeepsie.”

With Crowley poking around inside Sam’s head, Dean resumes pacing the room worriedly. We jump into Sam’s head. He’s in the bunker library working on a case - a ghoul is after dead cheerleaders.

Crowley pops in and immediately says “Poughkeepsie” to stop Sam from freaking out. He quickly explains the situation and when Sam doesn’t believe him, shoots Sam right in the chest. Ah, that Crowley! An expert communicator. Sam’s fine, of course, and now he starts to listen to Crowley.

In a montage, Sam remembers everything that’s happened with Gadreel, starting from the hospital and ending with killing Kevin. (Poor, sad Sam.) “Cast the punk ass, holy roller out!” Crowley exclaims. Right on, man!

Gadreel appears and Crowley faces him. Gadreel is clearly more powerful and chucks Crowley across the imaginary library. Quick, Sam! Imagine heaps of pillows! Crowley demands that Sam take control and cast out Gadreel. Sam hits Gadreel in the head then tackles him and orders him out. And BOOM! Done.

Cut to Metatron hanging out by Gadreel’s old vessel. Gadreel streams in like a river of life and possesses the bartender again. “Let me guess. Winchester trouble?”

Sam wakes up, as does Crowley. Hooray! You won! Victory lap time. There’s a noise outside. It’s Abaddon! Crowley tells them to sneak out the back door so that he can stall Abaddon for them. Hey, thanks man. They quickly flee while Crowley settles into the interrogation chair like it’s a throne.

Abaddon bursts inside and Crowley swivels in his improved throne. “Hello, darling.” Abaddon orders her minions to kill Crowley, but they’re not willing to take sides.

Crowley directs a speech to them. He’s back and ready to rumble. “You think this is a fight,” he tells Abaddon. “But it’s a campaign.” He’s out to win hearts and minds.

Cas does an initial healing on Sam.

Dean faces the music with Sam. He has no remorse for lying to Sam because it saved his life, but he recognizes that Sam is greatly aggrieved. Dean knows he’ll burn for what happened to Kevin, as well. (Does he still feel this way, I wonder?) He’s going to finish the fight against Abaddon and Gadreel alone. He’s poison, after all, and not the fun rock band kind. “I’ll do it alone,” he insists. “People get close to me, they get killed. Or WORSE...”

Dean peels back his enormous well of self-loathing to tell Sam that he’s unwilling to drag anyone along on his tour-de-bad-choices. Sam tells him to leave, and then Cas watches Dean get in his car and drive off alone.

____________________________________

Stare at These Quotes Long Enough and You’ll See a 3D Unicorn:

Why be an angel when you can be a god?

Human Castiel? Eh. But feathered Castiel? Pffhhh.

“The three amigos ride again.” “He’s not my amigo.”

I wanna talk about anything that isn’t a demon sticking needles into my brother’s brain.

You ruined the universe, you damn son of a bitch!

Right now I’m the goodest guy you got.

Everyone gets a say, a virgin, and all the entrails they can eat.

_____________________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 9x10 #roadtrip #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #crowley

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murphystartedthefire · 6 years

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Conageddon: Richard Harmon’s Panel + associated stuff

Disclaimer from the last post: So it’s just my luck that immediately after posting my Richard/Luisa recap, a whole bunch of the Conageddon panels including that one became available online! I definitely encourage people to check them out!

Unfortunately the people who taped them missed Luisa’s solo panel and Richard’s solo panel. So I will still share what I remember and notes from those.

SUNDAY RICHARD PANEL

- I'll admit *I* actually missed the beginning of this because I was in the auto line for Bob with a friend. (”How’s Richard treating you?” were in fact the first words Bob said to me, which made me feel The Betrayal a bit, lol. Also side note, I went so blank on anything to say to Bob that I had to get up and ask a question at his Q&A later just because I thought of something after the fact.)

- Anyway uh... I did finally get over there, and he was wearing this.

- Via twitter learned one of the first questions was whether Murphy sees himself as a bad guy. He answered that Murphy does think he’s a bad guy, but he as Richard doesn’t think Murphy’s a bad guy. ;__;

- Asked if he could only use one word for the rest of the day, what would it be? He went with “cute” because you can use it a lot of different ways, say it sarcastically, etc. It became a running joke in response to things for the rest of the panel, he would just deadpan in an annoyed voice, Cute.

- His next project is a guest role on a show he didn’t name but it’s already on the air and has some of the same writers from “Continuum”. (Can anyone figure this out? “Van Helsing” maybe?) They offered him a multi-episode part as a villain and human trafficker involved in bad things.

- Someone asked a question about Murphy's relationship with alcohol, we've only ever seen him drink a little or when he was getting trashed in the bunker. SPOILER: Murphy being "drunk" a lot is something that we’ll see in season six. Then Richard -- green mustache and all -- actually went into a serious riff about how he drinks socially in real life but tries to avoid doing it for the wrong reasons, out of anger or sadness, and it sounds like that’s where Murphy is and that’s not a healthy coping mechanism for him.

- Someone opened a question saying Murphy is her husband’s favorite character and he proudly calls himself an asshole. Richard was like “your husband has good taste, and he [Murphy] is an asshole, nothing wrong with that.”

- Honestly the real gem of this panel was the long answer to the question of whether Murphy could be more stable if they were in peacetime again. This was the response I summarized on twitter as "talking soberly about mental health and the importance of seeking help while wearing a green mustache." Because it was very moving and I’ll try to remember the gist of it -- he was talking about how he likes to think Murphy could fight his demons because he is a fighter, in reality he probably needs therapy, but his answer as an actor is always that Murphy is more *fun* and interesting to play when he's dark. His demons are part of him, he's not a happy person. He went back to the "vial of poison" metaphor he’s used before, like Venom it feels good and keeps him alive when he lets the poison in.

- ...But also thinking about mental illness consciously as a part of Murphy especially since season 5, there's a responsibility that comes with talking about it. (Actually one of the con staff jumped onto the mic and was talking about how important therapy was to his family and Richard was like “yes, thank you for taking what I said that way.”) He likes Murphy the way he is but he never wants to give off the idea that real people are beyond help. He was very emphatically like: help is out there, life is worth living right and being happy, and Murphy isn't beyond that but he can't get it because it's a TV show and it's more fun for him to be fucked-up.

- An audience member commented about how well Murphy seems to work and have an interesting relationship with every character on the show, from someone like Emori who he has a long relationship with to Abby who he only had a couple of scenes with. Richard appreciated that and said he's always liked that about Murphy, that you can throw him in with anyone and he's a great accessory. “Leaving Emori out” (thanks, question-asker) who is his favorite person to play off of? He answered Bellamy. He repeated what he's said before about thinking if Murphy was going to die, he (Richard) would want Bellamy to kill him. Bringing it full circle from when they both wanted each other dead, now it would be different but Bellamy would still have to be the one to put him down.

- I remembered something else! He talked about McCreary and how he would’ve liked to do more exploring the parallel between him and Murphy, which he acknowledged they didn’t go that far with. He thinks that Murphy saw and respected him in a weird way. They have the same kind of poison running through them, but for Murphy it’s something he really is trying to keep under control.

- He talked about how he always saw Murphy as very smart. Even from the beginning when he was described in the script as an idiot, he didn't want to play him that way. He's not educated but he's a chess player -- however, sometimes he gets impatient and jumps ahead moves. An audience member said they thought Murphy would make a good FBI agent or something in the real world, but Richard said he could just as easily be unemployed because he’d never get past a job interview.

- Audience member compared Murphy to Loki (mythical, not the Marvel one), but Richard said the figure he really based him on in the beginning was Lucifer -- I can’t remember the whole answer, but being like the fallen/cast-out one who was alongside Bellamy and then wanted to overthrow him. And then later Vegeta from Dragon Ball Z. ;)

OTHER RICHARD STUFF

- Like I said in another post, twitter user murphybeiiamy/Noemie had sold me her Richard Harmon VIP badge even though I was on a low budget since no one had offered her the ticket price for it. I am eternally grateful for that. I did witness the Memori Beer Pong thing in person. Other things included were the meet & greet which has its own post, solo photo and selfie... boy am I glad I chose to go for those on the right days, ‘cause I don’t think Emori + Insane St. Patrick’s Day Richard would’ve meshed as well as this:

- I also got the Jealous Emori sequel to my UD photo op. They were so game for everything! They had taken their “honeymoon” picture shortly before this and left the flowers on for the rest of the session. *g* I should thank Lindsey Morgan again for the completely unnecessary wrapping-her-leg-around-me pose, because it’s the first thing they noticed in the picture and made sure to replicate it with Richard’s leg. XD

The next day I told him that I really appreciated everything he said on the panel about mental health and I feel the same conflict about just wanting Murphy to be okay but thinking then he's a better character *because* he is fucked up and that's why he's identifiable. I gave him the Murphy playlist, his eyes kind of perked up and glanced over at Luisa when I said I'd given her one too. I warned him his had more dark & sad songs on it than hers did (tbh I think his turned out better), and he was like that’s GOOD, he wants all the sad songs. So yeah... he seemed to be legit into it as a gift and I believe and hope he will also listen to it. <3

- Finally, if you made it to the end of this post, please watch this video of Richard Harmon and Chelsey Reist doing Jameson shots and casually donating $1000 between them to CURE Childhood Cancer. I love my chaotic-good son.

#the 100 cast #john murphy #richard harmon #the 100 #conageddon #that boy's a fighter

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 6 years

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Notes on SPN 14.02

So! I saw 14.01 yesterday, which was for the most part, surprisingly, a blast, and since I have a bit of free time today I thought I’d keep a hold of the momentum and watch and liveblog 14.02 as well. I’ve heard it’s one of those Buckleming plot-a-paloozas, but I’ll try my best to provide semi-reasonable commentary instead of incoherent ranting.

Right. As always, typing this post up as I watch. SPOILERS for the episode ahead.

1. We start with a recap of last season’s finale, and Show, do you really want to remind us this many times about that wire-fight?

1.25. Show’s lore regarding possession has been dizzyingly inconsistent, but the more I think about it, the less sense it makes to me that Nick is alive? Because Nick couldn’t actually house Lucifer for very long in s5—he was deteriorating, which was why Lucifer needed Sam so urgently. The last we saw of Nick, he was dead/dying in a dingy room in Detroit, when Lucifer jumped ship to Sam. Even if Lucifer assumed Nick’s visage in the Cage and afterwards when he was brought back, Nick-the-person with Nick-memories and Nick-feelings isn’t there anymore.

1.255. So what does this mean? Like, if this was explained away sometime over the last two seasons--I’m very sorry, I really wasn’t paying a lot of attention to large chunks of them—please let me know. If there’s no explanation, then has Lucifer disappeared inside a Nick-construct? Did he use a loophole to escape the worst of the Archangel Blade right at the moment Dean plunged it into his side? Lucifer was “human” for a while in s13, iirc. Did he have enough “human” to hide behind and recover? And has he filled that human with the memories/personality of one of the humans he knew best? Is it because he spent centuries assuming Nick’s body in the Cage that he’s most comfortable being him here?

… I don’t know. Maybe I’m missing something obvious, but, hey, it’s fun to speculate.

2. We start off with people artfully tied up in an artfully derelict church illuminated artfully by artful lightning.

… *groans* I hope we aren’t getting a torture scene already.

2.25. Well, Michael’s certainly chirpier than he was last episode.

2.5. Is he trying to make new angel minions, is that it, by feeding them blood and his grace? Leaving aside the lack of creativity in the mechanism, the whole thing kind of makes a weird sense. Michael is looking for those with purity of purpose—among religious leaders (and refugees, apparently), angels, and then finally monsters—and rejecting those ‘poisoned’ by nuance and experience and supposed sin. After all, no being whose wants are even slightly more complex than ‘food’ is going to be a perfect follower.

It also plays into his assholey, self-righteous personality and, well, god-complex.

(Dean would’ve appreciated this quest for pure purpose.)

3. There’s a kind of sitcom-y vibe to this little expository scene: Bobby talks shit about angels only for Castiel to walk in with a quirked eyebrow; the group talks about Jack and Lucifer only for Jack to walk in and go, “hey, you talkin bout my father again?”

(these are the tiny ways I feel SPN is at cross-purposes with its own theme of ‘found family’. Everybody’s obsessed with blood relations, to the point that Lucifer and Jack are constantly referred to as ‘father and son’ when there is no need to bring that relationship up. Last year, even Castiel referred to Jack while talking to Lucifer as ‘your son’ without any prompting from Satan. Words are so powerful, and so revealing.)

3.45. Castiel “as you know, Bob”-ing is hilarious. Oh, Buckleming.

3.5. Um, not to dismiss or compare Castiel’s considerable trauma at the hands of Lucifer, but is anybody going to acknowledge even once that Sam, who appears to have taken the brunt of caring for Nick so far, is also going to have trouble looking into his abuser’s face??

4. Nick continues to make no sense to me.

(I like little touches like Castiel telling him that he needs to remind himself to eat.)

4.5. I kinda like this scene, sue me. It makes sense to me that Nick would obsess over and over again about how he could’ve let himself say yes to Lucifer, although Lucifer is as old as time and had all the power in that situation. The ‘monster’ bit is a little too on-the-nose for me, but I like it. Really drives home what an intimate, horrifying violation possession is and how scarred and twisted it can leave the survivor who spirals down a well of undeserved guilt and self-loathing.

I wish Sam was the one talking to him now, or was at least present. He’d talked in the previous scene about how Nick was only ‘housing’ and deserved a chance to rebuild his life, and that hard-earned generosity of spirit would’ve been a balm to all three of them, I think.

5. ETA on the TOD, Bobby? *sporfle* Seriously though, I love this role-reversal: usually it’s Bobby who’s rolling his eyes at SamnDean’s eff-bee-eye shenanigans.

5.25. Ah, but where this Bobby has become an expert now is in telling the difference between smiting patterns!

5.5. I wonder if trying to appear non-threatening is just Sam’s default whenever he meets with, uh, ‘civilians’.

6. I really, honestly hate that the Bunker just happens to have ‘lore books’ on whatever the hell random question they’re having that day. I just kinda hate the Bunker in general, now that I think about it.

6.25. But doesn’t that ‘human component’ (lol) make a Nephilim strong enough to take down even archangels?

6.5. As pep talks go, that wasn’t bad. A few notes:

a) there’s an earnestness to the words that I’m sure that Castiel learned from Sam.

b) I think this is the first time that Castiel—or anybody—has referred to the events of 8.23 as “The Great Fall”. It’s interesting that it’s already gotten a name among angelkind and that Castiel would call it that, given how close he was to the events that led to it.

c) I want to both laugh and cry at Castiel’s assertion that Sam and Dean were there for him after he lost his grace. He was mostly left to fend for himself, obviously, but there’s no space for that in a pep talk.

d) Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Jack is actually just only a year old. Asking him not to dwell on something so… immediate is a tall ask.

7. Ok, so that was a nice snappy little counterpart to Lucifer-talking-to-Sam-in-the-mirror from the s5 finale. I like how Michael is blunt and matter-of-fact while Lucifer relished in the moment, bragged about how he’d had Sam’s number all his life, and seduced him with violent revenge. This is nice.

I don’t know, guys, I’m really enjoying this episode so far!

8. Sooooo Lucifer is residing in some subconscious layer of Nick’s mind? Is this PTSD shaped by his possession? Is Lucifer bleeding through his own construct? Are we going to find that it was actually Nick who killed his own family? (I think we are.)

8.2. Castiel looking for residual Lucifer in Nick reminds me of when he was doing the same for Sam re: Gadreel, and that reminds me of Dean’s ‘teen mom’ joke from that episode and now I’m pissed off.

8.5. Nick is fascinating, but is he fascinating enough that I care about his little revenge sub-plot? Eh. Jury’s out. Plus I just can’t stand the actor anymore

9. Sam’s just kinda there to move the plot along. Give him some more character moments, episode!

10. Michael reminded me of Dean in the scene with the werewolf. I’m really not getting a capital P personality from Michael, though that may be due to a personal choice. Or maybe because Michael was never a distinct character to begin with, and this is far more noticeable when Ackles plays it and ‘Dean’ threatens to take over any minute.

Or going meta for a second—maybe Michael’s deliberately infusing some Dean into his persona. Possession isn’t simply putting a thing inside a box: both entities are influenced and informed by the other, but only one has all the power.

11. … ok, so my interest in this Nick subplot is rapidly decaying. Nick did it. He killed his family. It’s not a mystery.

11.5. The emotional dynamics of this scene… checks out, actually. Of course Nick is projecting all his rage on Castiel. And of course Castiel regrets destroying Jimmy Novak’s life the most. More than toeing the party line and being instrumental in almost bringing the Apocalypse about in s4; more than releasing the Leviathan; more than trusting Metatron in s8; more than killing his brethren, who’ve tortured him back and tried to kill him on more than one occasion. But Castiel has been both angel and human—both possessing and being possessed—long enough that he’s intimately aware of the devastation it leaves both within and without. And there are no excuses for the way he and other angels have done that damage—so carelessly, so casually. Even the most well-intentioned angels are deceptive and manipulative and give not a second thought about their hapless vessels. It’s a sign of Castiel’s growth and compassion that he recognises his responsibility in this and that he invokes Jimmy’s name with both reverence and regret. In all this shouting and crying that Show doesn’t acknowledge the deep-seated trauma of possession survivors, this is actually a great moment.

12. That werewolf leader looks familiar. Has the actor been on SPN before? He kinda reminds me of one of the leads on Suits.

12.5. That’s a lot of clunky dialogue, but Michael is basically confirming what I speculated in point 2. Cool.

13. How Jack managed to get away and find his grandparents is never explained, but that’s a familiar Buckleming trope—characters are put together in a scene without any regard to how it might connect to other scenes or how/why those characters might’ve gotten there.

13.2. That said, it’s kinda poignant that Jack, having lost his angelic powers, is now trying to understand the human side of his heritage. He’s trying his best to adapt to his situation; this one year old kid is more well-adjusted than most of the adults on this show.

13.5. Well, holy shit, Jack talking about Kelly to his grandparents is just… making me feel emotional in a way this show hasn’t made me feel in a long, long time. This Calvert kid is good.

13.6. It is bizarre that Kelly’s parents are mostly ok with not knowing Kelly’s whereabouts for over a year—I don’t think we ever found out what position exactly Kelly held in the President’s office, and I can picture them in a bit of denial by telling themselves the reason they haven’t heard from Kelly is because she is in the middle of super-secret government work. I don’t know! But it’s just about handwave-able though, and their scene with Jack is worth it.

14. Honestly, Castiel, how did he travel so far and for so long without you noticing? So much for “Don’t worry, Sam, I will babysit this defenceless creature.”

(Speaking of Sam, wheeeerrreee’s Saaaaammmm)

“I suppose there are worse ways to be human than to be kind.”

“Have you heard from Sam?”

I LOVE YOU, JACK.

14.5. No, actually, Dean wouldn’t want it any other way. He said as much when Gadreel took over Sam completely back in s9.

15. Shoo, Nick.

16. FINALLY MORE SAM. With only like 4 minutes of episode left. What, Show, did you think you spoiled us too much last episode with all that glorious, glorious Sam content?

16.25. And finally a bit of action! The rapid-fire editing is making my head hurt, though.

16.5. Soooooooooooooo Dean’s back? Obviously Michael is playing a long game here, but it says something about the show that they can’t keep Dean away for more than two episodes without getting the shakes. I honestly miss Sera Gamble and her desire to rattle the status quo: in s6, she kept the so-called ‘real’ Sam away for half the season, which gave us imo some of the best storytelling, characterisation and acting from both Padalecki and Ackles in the entire show. In s7 she took away all the Winchester markers: the Impala, weird motel rooms, Bobby’s house. Of course, after she left the show settled back into a familiar rut (substituting Bobby’s house with that thrice-damned Bunker). I wish the show would take risks with these two again. s9 and the beginning of s10 were so very promising but there was no follow-through.

I guess they want to MotW fillers for a few episodes and that would be weird without SamnDean SamnDeaning it in the Impala, but Show, why don’t you just say ‘fuck it’ and try weird on for size? What do you have to lose? I mean, seriously?

17. Nick’s the murderer—called it!

18. This wasn’t terrible, you guys. 95% of the episode was just people sitting around having conversations, the dialogue was clunky, ideas derivative, scenes progressed without any rational links between them, the pacing was wonky, and there was too much exposition. But the emotional beats were solid and the set up is reasonably intriguing. I’ve seen far, far worse BuckLeming episodes.

Pacing is a real issue in this season, though. And Michael is not remotely intimidating as a threat.

#supernatural #season 14 #spn spoilers #sam winchester #castiel #michael #jack kline #meta #unpopular opinion: this ep was... pretty ok

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