#Peace of mind and resistance at once - this beautiful juxtaposition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewhiterabbit42 · 5 years

Text

The Other Side

Pairings: AU!Gabriel x AU!Reader

Summary: Survival wasn’t all there was to life in the apocalypse, and you were lucky enough to understand this.

Word Count: 5628

Tags/Warnings: smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, edging, friends with benefits, sleeping with the enemy, secret / forbidden affair

Written for: Anon - kiss request - tripping over objects / furniture and @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Biting

You hated using the tunnels. They always felt cold, unnaturally so, and smelled the way you imagined a tomb would: damp, earthy, filled with stagnant air and the ever present possibility of entrapment. It wasn’t that you were claustrophobic, so much as you really disliked the idea of being put beneath the ground. Especially alone.

They were the only way to get in and out of the colony unnoticed, however, and discretion was key. Mostly because Bobby might blow a gasket if he knew just how often you left on your own, not to mention the aneurysm he'd get when he found out the reason behind it.

Thankfully, the passageway you needed was short, and before you knew it, a fresh breeze was once again nipping at your cheeks. The barest whisper of something trickled across your senses as your feet guided you down the path, causing the cool night air to fill your lungs at a faster rate.

Your pulse lost its steady rhythm, and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your head tilted slightly, your instincts kicking into overdrive, but your hand never drew the blade on which it rested. You were far from alarmed, even as the rustle of wings sounded directly behind you.

“You know, if I was one of my brothers, you’d be dead right now…”

“You know, if I was anyone else, you’d spend the rest of your morning in the principal's office for misuse of emergency exits.”

The early morning sun blinded you, making it impossible to see the figure waiting for you just outside the tunnel doors. Exhaustion clung to your mind, preventing the familiar voice from registering. You whirled, unsheathing your blade, your muscles readying to strike.

Recognition override your adrenaline at the sight of your best friend’s face.

“Jesus, Wes!” You clutched the weapon to your chest, as if that would calm the frantic beating of your heart. “That’s a good way to get yourself stabbed.”

“Is that anyway to greet someone bearing gifts?” He asked, immediately holding up an old, faded travel mug. You pursed your lips, tucking away your blade as you tried to even out your breathing. You were relieved he was the one catching you sneaking back in over the fact he’d prepared a peace offering.

Your eyes flicked down, curiosity brimming. “I suppose it would be awfully ungrateful not to accept.” Wryness lifted both your tone and the corner of your mouth as you took the mug from his hands.

“If I were you, I’d drink up. Bobby’s been waiting for you since dawn.”

Shit. You’d forgotten you’d asked to meet with him.

You glanced over to find an odd look on your friend’s face.

“What?” You resisted the urge to glance down the front of you and make sure nothing was compromised. You continued to hold his stare, noticing there was something different about it, something you were too tired to tease out.

There was more to Gabriel’s presence tonight. More tension, perhaps. More energy. Or maybe there was just more of him. It carried over into his touch, that something extra feeling awfully possessive as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Since I know you’re not stupid, I can only assume you either have something terribly wrong with your sense of self-preservation, or maybe, just maybe, you somehow knew it was me...”

It wasn’t quite suspicion that colored his tone, but you also wouldn’t call it concern. What was concerning to you, however, was how guarded he was. It was as if something was brewing inside him, something that was strong enough to churn everything he kept buried up toward the surface.

“I’m having a torrid love affair with my mortal enemy…which do you think it is?” You said dryly, hoping some humor might help diffuse whatever was going on.

“Hmmmm.” He sounded less than convinced, but as his hands slipped beneath your jacket, his focus shifted. Fingertips teased tiny circles along your skin, sending small sparks of excitement through your system.

You held your breath, concentrating on him and only him; the feel of his touch, the heat of his chest on your back, the way he smelled of different air and clean rain, suggesting he had come from someplace much further away. He was your escape, and you wanted nothing more than to become lost in him.

You felt yourself slipping away as he traced the tip of his nose down behind your ear, his breath unfurling warmly against the shell of it.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he ordered. You were tempted to make a remark, but that little extra edge to him had you doing what you were told. He placed something small and square on top of your tongue, and it only took a moment for a delectable combination of sugar and cocoa to soar across your taste buds.

“Oh —”

“— God, this - is this…” You stared at Wesley, wide-eyed. “Where the hell did you find whiskey?” The look you pinned him with really said who did you have to kill for this?

“Thought you’d like that,” he grinned, patting you on the shoulder before passing you. You stared at his back a few seconds, your brain unable to comprehend the magnitude of his gift. It took a few moments to recover, and you were thankful he was in front of you as you awkwardly shuffled to catch up.

Your moan was as decadent as the long lost flavor spreading inside your mouth.

“... you like that?” He murmured, nuzzling along the side of your neck as he allowed you time to savor the surprise.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had real chocolate. Candy, sweets, anything without real nutritional value was overlooked once the fighting began. Then, once everyone realized this was really the end, treats became so uncommon they surpassed the value of gold and silver. In some places, they had become the only valuable piece of currency.

Now they were as rare as toilet paper, and you couldn’t believe the things people were willing to do for a chocolate bar.

“What would you do for one?” Insinuation danced through his tone, and you finally turned around to greet him properly. What you saw, however, had you stilling.

Gabriel’s eyes glimmered in a kaleidoscope of sentiments and colors. Greens and golds vied for dominance against a backdrop of heat. He was beautiful. Breathtaking. Perhaps one of the few truly magnificent things left in this world.

And for whatever reason, he found you deserving of his time.

“I can’t - this is too much,” you insisted, holding the cup back up to him. “I don’t deserve this.”

Wes might have been your closest friend, but things like this went beyond bestie status. If anything, you should have been procuring him impossible items for looking out for you.

Especially when he had to know whatever you were doing outside the colony was at least seven shades of questionable if not outright forbidden.

He glanced sideways at you, and your brows pulled together beneath his scrutiny. You still weren’t able to get a pulse on him, which was strange. Normally, you could both tell where each others’ heads were at.

“Oh, don’t worry, there are strings attached,” he informed you. “You’d think if we took anything from the military, it’s that the whole don’t ask, don’t tell method doesn’t really work worth shit.”

You footsteps froze, your entire system lurching to a stop with them. “Wesley…”

You didn’t want to lie to him. You weren’t certain you could after all you’d been through together, but most of all, you didn’t want him to share the burden of your secrets.

As if sensing the weight behind things, his hands shot up in surrender. “You don’t have to tell me. In fact, the less I know right now, the better.”

It wasn’t hard to read between the lines. He was catching flak about you. Then again, when wasn’t he?

“You just need to promise me you’ll come back.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. The contact combined with a stare that was far more direct than usual had you floundering.

Unsure of what to do with his concern, you went straight to your family's specialty.

“If bribery of this caliber doesn’t convince me to, nothing will.” You slipped your arm through his, tugging him away from the main path and diverting your course toward a secluded hill that ran along the edge of the colony.

You never knew how to handle these moments. It was never easy seeing Gabriel for what he was. It only reminded you how completely different you were.

He was infinite, whereas you were nothing, an insignificant speck on the cosmic timeline that would eventually fade away. You never felt worthy, even if it only came down to him needing a body with which to find pleasure.

His eyes suddenly narrowed, and your forehead wrinkled down the center. It wasn’t until you blinked that you realized what the problem was. A drop of moisture slipped past the confines of your lashes, slowly trickling down your cheek.

You didn’t understand how he could move you to such emotions so quickly when you spent most of your days struggling just to feel. It was just another bewildering piece to the enigma that was Gabriel.

“What have I told you about that?” He chided, a juxtaposition of hard and soft forming between his disapproving look and the gentle way he brushed away the streak with his knuckles.

“What have I told you about going AWOL?” Bobby scolded, not bothering to turn around from his place at the edge of the overlook. You moved next to him, taking a large swallow from your mug as you avoided the cantankerous side-eye he sent you.

No wonder Wes had opted to wait for you at the bottom of the hill. There was more bear than man present this morning.

You knew better than to jump straight into anything when Bobby was like this, and you took some time to admire the view of the colony. Everything seemed ordinary on the surface. People ambled through the center, going about their business. The previous bustle had slowed, and the bodies weaving in and out of the structures took on an ambling, weighted shuffle.

His stare eventually settled on you, lips pulling thin with appraisal. “You look like this is the last place you need to be.”

“I’m fine.” It was an automatic answer, a mistake, one you didn’t realize until his gaze intensified. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

You knew it was better to give him something rather than stonewall him, and you hoped the amendment was enough to appease him.

“We have everything we need for it and then some: beds, linens, walls, protection… and yet it always seems to be one of the things shortest in supply.” He paused, his eyes scanning the grounds some more before he continued. “You still haven’t said where you were.”

You burst through the door to the supply shed, wincing as a thunderous crack echoed through the valley. It was the third time this year you’d damaged something. Bobby was going to be so pissed.

“Gabri-mmph,” his lips smothered yours, cutting off your protest.

Shhh you heard his voice in your mind. You want to alert the whole neighborhood we’re out here?

His mouth released yours, allowing you a brief reprieve for your burning lungs. An infuriating smile pressing against your skin as he teased his way down along your collarbone. His hands fisted the sides of your shirt, and you wished you’d remembered to fix the zipper on your jacket. The last thing you needed was to have to explain why you were traipsing around at the end of winter missing vital layers. Again.

“Fuck you,” you breathed, your fingers weaving through his long, wavy strands of hair. When he lunged for your throat, hungrily devouring your skin with teeth and tongue, you tugged in an attempt to keep him focused.

An amused, albeit dark, chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat. “That’s the plan, sweets.”

He captured your lips again, reigning in his ardor as he nudged you back through the small building. You stumbled over piles of wood, scrap metal, broken pieces of furniture that might yet still serve a purpose, and you had to cling to him just to remain upright.

Your luck eventually ran out, and your foot finally hit something that refused to give, sending you tumbling backwards so quickly even he wasn’t able to stop it. Pain flared along your spine, and once your surprise wore off you realized you’d fallen against an old bookcase.

It was as good a spot as any. Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket before running his hands beneath yours and pushing it over your shoulders. You let it drop to the ground, eyes riveted as he tugged his shirt over his head. His skin looked flawless in the moonlight filtering in through the windows, your gaze trailing up his lean, defined frame to the tousled, tawny locks hanging down around his face.

Perfection you thought, and the air left the room in a sudden rush.

“I needed some air,” It wasn’t a total lie. It just wasn’t the only thing you had needed.

Strike two Bobby’s face said as he gave you a long look.

“Different air?” He asked skeptically. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, doing your best to ignore the way he stared. You knew he didn’t have a clue about anything, or else he’d be confronting you.

“I just…” You fumbled for a better explanation, one that didn’t cross the careful lines you were trying to maintain between keeping him in the dark and outright lying to him. The latter didn’t sit well with you, but you had nothing else to offer him this morning.

Except maybe some of your whiskey, and there was no way that was happening.

“... needed some air,” you repeated, taking another sip and finally glancing up at him. You aimed for neutrality, hoping you could suppress how guarded you really were.

“One of these days, kid, you’re going to tell me what that means,” he said, finally letting the issue drop.

“One of these days, we’re finding a bed,” you insisted, your hands gripping the sides of the bookcase as you all but prayed the thing didn’t collapse on you.

Gabriel had ravaged the thing, sending pieces shattering in every direction in his haste before hoisting you up on the highest shelf left, ensuring he had a place to ravish you. The setup was far from sturdy, the entire frame creaking and wiggling with every movement. You did your best to stay still as he buried his head between your thighs, whereas he tried his damndest to get you to writhe as much as possible.

“God, you’re such an ass,” you moaned, your feet digging into his back to keep your hips from rocking into his face. You wished you could have the same effect on him, that you could make him dance to whatever tune you created, from fast-paced to slow to everything in between. Yet, it was always him playing your body while you simply went along with whatever symphony he orchestrated.

You wished you could tell him now. You wished Bobby could understand that you left the walls of the camp because there wasn’t enough inside of them anymore. Only he wouldn’t.

His first reaction would be to make sure you weren’t bewitched. Once convinced your mind had not been compromised, he’d move on to coercion, insisting there must be something the angel was holding over you. It would take him some time for his denial to wear off, but once it did, then he’d think you were a silly little girl in way over her head.

Or a complete dumbass.

You weren’t sure which would be worse.

“So… I can only imagine what you want to talk about,” he began. “We got angel attacks getting closer by the day. Outposts being discovered and overrun. They’ve fractured our communication lines with the outermost colonies. There’s that damn flu making its rounds, the fact that our last four supply runs came up all but empty, and I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could even find a spy or two…”

In other words, you better not be there to waste his time.

“Subtle,” you remarked. “And while I understand you, and the others, have very important things to worry about, I would hope the happiness of your people would be among them.”

His eyes swung to you, hard and measured. This wasn’t the first time you’d picked this battle, and he wasn’t any more thrilled to be doing it than you were.

“Hate to say it, but it’s the apocalypse. Nobody’s supposed to be happy.”

You knew you were walking a fine line. You understood his priorities. He and the other leaders had an overwhelming burden to shoulder, but sometimes they lost sight of the things that went beyond crises and survival.

“Should I quote you on that?”

You could practically feel the burn of his stare searing through the side of your head.

“We’re doing the best we can with what we have.” End of discussion.

You hated when he tried to shut you down, like you were still some naive child with no idea what life was like beyond the walls.

“Are we?” You demanded. At best, the place was a refugee camp, rather than the rebuilding of civilization they claimed. Everything about it screamed temporary. Many of the structures remained open. Only the sick, injured, and most vulnerable were afforded four walls and a roof. The rest of you made do with improvised lean-tos and tied down canvas, and even you had to admit to feeling a little salty that some of your supplies saw better quarters than the rest of you.

You made do because you had to. Because three figureheads was enough to keep a pulse on the entire place, but not nearly enough to keep ushering people forward. Even with your help, with Wes’ and a handful of others, the tide had grown stagnant over the last several months. People were drowning, and nothing good ever came from feeling like one’s head was trapped beneath the water while the surface drifted further and further away.

The only reason you weren’t losing your mind was because you had an archangel that had no problem helping you misplace it.

Fuck, he was so good at this. That tongue of his knew just how to move, just how much pressure to use, just what pace to set to get you to unravel. His fingers moved within you, and they, too, knew exactly when to curl and hit that sweet spot. You’d never known any man to pay this much attention to what you liked, and you wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he wasn’t one.

He tried to draw it out for you, bringing you right to the brink before easing you back again. It was amazing and agonizing all at once.

“Gabriel,” you pleaded, hands raking through his hair, nails scraping across his scalp as another wave of pleasure rolled through you. You rocked yourself forward, ignoring the precarious groaning of the wood, unable to see past anything but an increasingly blinding need for him to pull that final stitch and let you come undone.

“Sing for me my little songbird,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky with arousal.

“Can’t,” you panted. It was risky enough just being there with him. You didn’t need some half-cocked night patrol bursting in because the archangel needed his ego stroked.

Refusing him was clearly a challenge, his fingertips stroking your g-spot with more vigor. Your head dropped back against the wall, a half-strangled moan catching in your throat.

“Gabriel—“” your argument cut short with a whine as he all but stopped, his touch slow, feather-light -- maddening -- and you watched as your release slipped away once again.

“You will sing,” he insisted, his face breaking away from your sex to nibble tantalizingly along your inner thigh. “Even if it takes me all night to convince you to…”

“I have all day to talk,” you reminded Bobby. “Do you?”

You glanced back down at the activity below, taking another long pull from your mug. You let the liquid roll around in your mouth, savoring the taste, allowing him time to decide how he wanted this to play out.

“If you got a point, then make it.”

You nodded, but said nothing, eyes riveted to the instructional building where all the kids spent their days learning useful things. Trades. Survival skills. Tactical strategies. How to properly handle an angel blade.

“Listen,” he rounded, patience reaching its limit in the steady flush creeping up his neck. “We got five graves that need to be dug this morning, so I suggest --”

You held up a finger to him, cutting him off. “Just a moment.”

A few seconds later, a set of doors swung open and everyone between the ages of six and sixteen came filing out. Gaunt faces peered out from beneath worn and weathered layers, bodies shuffling obediently to the area a handful of adults were shepherding them. This was their time to take a break from their studies, to be children, and yet, nothing about their movements suggested they were.

There were no bursts of laughter, no lighthearted giggles or shouts, no excitement to be free from such menial tasks. There wasn’t an ounce of playfulness within the group, only solemnity and silence that was mirrored by the adults overseeing them.

“What do you see down there?” You questioned.

Bobby was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“Point made,” he conceded. “Some days it’s like half of them already think they’re dead.”

“Can you blame them?” You made a wide sweeping gesture to the entire grounds. Everything had a purpose, a function, just like everyone in the colony had a role. Some days it felt like you were all just cogs in one big machine that did nothing but demand you keep running regardless of all the death and discomfort.

“It may not be paradise, but it’s the best we can do.”

“Is it?” You pressed, unwilling to let the same cliche arguments drive the conversation. “They need a way to let off steam. Some form of entertainment, an escape, something.”

“I’ll get right on putting in a jungle gym after I bury our dead and explain to their children why their parents died from something a few Tylenol could have fixed.” Sarcasm bled heavily into his words, and you could tell you were losing him. “You want to help these people? Find us some medical supplies. Build us a clinic that doesn’t kill as many people as it helps because we can’t sanitize it properly. Guarantee us one god damn supply run that doesn’t end with somebody not coming home!”

He had a valid point, but it only strengthened your argument that much more.

“I’m not saying we ignore those things. What I’m suggesting is we don’t overlook them. Lift the sanctions on what people can bring back,” you insisted. “Simple things like books, magazines, porn.”

Actual liquor so you didn’t have to drink things that tasted like they were one bad batch away from blinding you.

Stars overlaid your vision, though it wasn’t quite how you anticipated. The bookshelf emitted a final, dying groan before giving beneath your weight. Gabriel lunged forward, pinning you to the frame with such speed that your head slammed unceremoniously back against it.

“Shit,” he muttered, fingers hastily tapping the side of your head. “Don’t check out on me yet, sweetheart.”

The ache in your skull immediately faded, and he waited for you to lock your legs around his waist before shifting your weight entirely onto him.

“Can we do things my way for once?” You asked as he moved you both away from the new pile of kindling.

He made a non-committal noise, turning to assess what other options were available for you both to get back to business.

“You know, where we don’t break anything, myself included?”

“Ha, ha, chuckles.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, though gold was more heated than anything when it pinned you beneath a look. “I have yet to hear any complaints.”

That’s because you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Unless…” He prompted, almost daring you to say something to contrary.

“No complaints,” you confirmed, stepping down to the floor. “Though it would be nice if you let me lead for a change.”

He was always the one calling the shots. For once, you wanted to be the one in charge.

Your hands smoothed up his chest before nudging him backward, and his brow shot up in a clashing combination of warning and curiosity. He allowed you to guide him toward the center of the room until something pushed into the back of his thighs. You reached behind him, ripping a sheet off an old, worn desk before playfully shoving him on top of it.

“Permission to climb aboard the Gabriel Express?”

He rolled his eyes so hard he must have pulled something, but there was no mistaking the twitch of his lips or the way some of the darkness receded from his stare.

“Do you actually have anything important to discuss, or are we planning to ride the unicorn and sparkles train straight into the station?” Bobby demanded after you went another heated round with each other.

The knuckles around your mug turned white, and you realized no amount of good whiskey was going to let you keep your cool with him today.

It was like talking to a brick wall. Nothing you said made a difference, but you forged ahead, unwilling to let it drop this time. The more you debated, the more you realized the only common ground between you was the sheer stubbornness you both possessed. Any minute now, a bell was going to go off and you were going to be ushered into your separate corners.

That, or one of you was simply going to murder the other one.

“What's the point of living if all we're going to do is survive?!” You shouted, your control dissolving as your words echoed across the valley.

One day you were going to make him lose control, but tonight was not that night.

He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, give it up, his hand tight in your hair, baring your throat when he wanted it, dragging your mouth back to him on a whim, keeping your lips locked tight until you thought you might suffocate beneath his hunger.

He let you set the pace, but the way he sat stock still beneath you resonated as more of a power move. Be careful what you wish for, sweets, that smirk of his whispered as he made you do all the work.

You took it as a challenge, doing everything you could to make him regret that decision, whether it was rising up and taking him in at a painfully slow rate or bringing him close to the edge before backing off the same as he had with you.

Bit by bit, he started splintering, the need beneath his hands increasing as he tried to undo you. You focused on the burning ache of your muscles, refusing to allow him to drag you over the edge yet. A flush spread through the length of you, sweat breaking out across your skin. Whose resolve would give first, you wondered?

Your face filled with color, less from your outburst and more from the way Bobby looked on the verge of shattering.

“Is that how you feel?” The quiet uncertainty beneath his words didn’t suit him. He was the one with the unapologetic loud mouth. He was the one filled with anger and bite. You were supposed to be the one that took the edge off things.

“Bobby --”

“Don’t Bobby me, young lady. You tell it to me straight.” His face was all stern lines and gravity, and you suddenly felt like the time you’d gotten caught beneath the gym bleachers, not only with some boy but the wrong one.

“No,” you told him. “I don’t because it’s enough that I have people who take care of me.”

You never knew how often Gabriel had your back. When you came, screaming his name and clenching so hard on his cock even he couldn’t hold back a cry, someone should have come running.

No one did.

You weren’t in any state of mind to question why, but, unbeknownst to you, he’d undone just enough of the grounds’ warding before you arrived so he could soundproof the building. He’d never admit to it, and if you ever did ask, he’d simply pass it off to unusually accommodating acoustics.

Had you known, it would have made losing your standoff a little less grating. Your pride was used to it, though, and begging him to fuck you when your legs began to tremble wasn’t really anything new.

He stilled, hands moving behind your thighs to help you ride out your pleasure exactly the way you wanted. When you were done, they moved up your backside, helping himself to a generous handful of your curves. He rolled his hips into you, giving slow, lazy thrusts that buried him in you to the hilt.

“You should see your face when you come,” he rasped, mouth ravenous along your neck. That extra something within his presence returned, removing the chill from the air and causing it to swelter.

You couldn't imagine the view was as nearly as magical as he made it sound, but who were you to argue with someone that much older than you?

“So make me again,” you challenged, emboldened by whatever was causing his energy to spill out so palpably. Your teeth sank into his lip, drawing it away from his mouth in a wholly uncharacteristic and ungentle way.

He grunted, fingertips digging into your waist before he started pounding away at you in earnest.

And make you come again, he did. With one leg over his shoulder, then both, and lastly on your back when your legs could barely move, hitting so hard and deep that every thrust was followed by your sharp cries of satisfaction.

When it was finally his turn, his eyes flashed bright with flames of gold, a gutteral noise tearing through him so fiercely the vibrations carried over onto your body. You yelped as teeth unexpectedly sank into your shoulder so hard you were surprised when there wasn’t any blood.

“Fuck,” he growled, collapsing, the weight of his body trapping you against the desk.

Instead of leaving right away, he lingered, leaving himself buried inside of you as your breaths began to slow. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, only that it didn’t take long. He never stayed more than a handful of minutes after, and you were glad not to be conscious of it. Every time left, you felt empty, physically and ways that ran so deep you didn’t want to think about them.

You awoke a handful of hours later to ray of light spilling in through the dusty windows. You were already dressed and covered in a dusty quilt that could have been tucked away in some obscure box, though you knew it hadn’t, and you might have questioned whether the night had really happened if he hadn’t left a few gifts behind for you to remember it by.

“But other people aren’t as lucky, and some people just need more.” You paused, watching two individuals square up against each other over what amounted to a shoulder brush. “Some people need to get laid or take matters into their own hands.”

Bobby made a face. “Not much standing in the way of that.”

You fixed him with a look that said there’s plenty.

“Books. Magazines. Porn,” you repeated. “Start there, and I guarantee you'll see a difference.”

Shouts rose up from below, and you knew it was only a matter of time before fists started flying. You frowned, knowing you both should get down there before the two idiots broke each others’ noses again.

“You’d think they’d just learn their lesson and steer clear of each other,” he sighed, as tired of their antics as you were.

You smirked. “Maybe they would if they had some Playboys.”

He winced. “For the love of anything good left in this world, can we please stop talking about porn?!”

You stepped back, attempting to hide your mirth as you took one last sip from your cup. You turned to head down the path, but before you could, he grabbed you by the arm.

“You’d tell me if you ever felt that way, right?” Blue eyes pinned you beneath the look, the one reserved to scare the shit out of anyone dumb enough to mess with you, and these rare moments in which he needed you to believe he actually could see through you so you wouldn't lie.

You slipped your hand into your pocket, an ache flaring across your shoulder as fingers came in contact with something. The lining to your jacket muffled the sound of the crinkling wrapper as your thumb skimmed over the nearly whole chocolate bar, pausing to worry over the small indent where a piece was missing. It brought a smile to your face as much as the bruise and warm whiskey in your belly.

“Don’t worry, dad,” you assured him. “I’ll be just fine.”

Tags are open to anyone 18+. Send an ask to be added OR follow @rabbit-writes (my fic only side blog) and turn on notifications.

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @lucifer-in-leather @blondecoffeecake @tistai @room-with-a-cat @authoressskr @revwinchester @flufy07 @tardis-is-mine @tangle-of-ivy @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel @angelofwinchester17 @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim @fandomsrourlives @archangelgabriellives @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mizzezm @disneymarina @zpandaqueen @idabbleincrazy @katekvnes @han68000 @brokencasbutt67-writer

Gabe Squad:

@bloodstained-porcelain-doll @lacqueluster @baritonechick @samikitten @kazosa @nobodys-baby-now @acarpouschimerical @cipherwheeldecoder @megasimpleplan4ever @azlinh @fruitypieq @koithings @booknerd1324 @the-kryomancer @karichanarts @sherlockedtash88 @archangelashiah @calamity-chaos @erisunderthemoon @hankypranky @missihart23 @curious-trickster @gabegirrl86 @trickster-emissarie @crazyevilninja-is-lame @sweetmisseddreams2002 @bun-dpdbny

#gabriel x reader #au gabriel x au reader #gabriel #spnkinkbingo #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #gabriel fanfiction #rabbit writes #lemon

141 notes · View notes

shirtlesssammy · 6 years

Text

8x05: Blood Brother

Then:

Benny, Dean, and Cas had one heck of a survivalist vacation. Sam’s brain broke (again) and he hallucinated a life outside the Life.

Now:

Benny! I really like Benny and am still really bummed that he’s gone. But right now, he’s topside and confronting his old nest. He wants to right some past wrongs -namely, them killing him. Cue machete time!

Sam and Dean are on the hunt for a very elusive Kevin Tran. They enter a motel room hoping to find him, but the room is empty.

(Sidenote: Mid-century wooden plaque appreciation note. They use these again in 8x08. Liz Lemon also has an orange one hanging behind her door on 30 Rock. Boris has one in her office too. :D) The boys are at each other’s necks about tracking Kevin (and shared animosity about how they handled the off season). Dean gets a distress call from Benny and grabs a Toblerone before hitting the road.

For science:

(What was up with early season 8? They’re just so tan and pretty.)

Dean’s trip to find Benny gives him lots of time to think about purgatory. Benny whistling in purgatory is kinda my jam. He draws the monsters in and they take them down as a team. This whole sequence is cinematic gold.

Sam sits down to do a little digging on where Kevin is hiding when he decides to stalk his ex a little. He’s distracted by a noise in the bathroom. He finds a broken fan and has his own flashback to his idyllic time fixing things after hitting a dog.

Here is a Sam Winchester plaid shirt appreciation picture:

Dean finds Benny’s truck and a supply of AB negative, and wanders the docks a bit before finding his friend. Benny’s a little worse for wear. He doesn’t stay that way for long once he gets a little vamp food in his belly though. In fact, he’s back to normal in no time, much to Dean’s shock.

Benny thanks Dean and dismisses him, but Dean wants to know what he’s tangling with. “You and that whole friend thing, man.” That’s right, Dean is loyal (especially when you save the love of his life --uh, but I’m getting ahead of things). In purgatory, while Benny and Dean hack their way through monsters, Cas still smites them dead. He’s a magnet though and they need to keep moving or ditch the angel.

Benny hides his contempt for Cas through sarcasm. Cas calls him out on his crap. Dean doesn’t like his new BFF and BF fighting.

Cas argues that maybe Benny is right. It’s dangerous to travel with him, and chances are good that he won’t be able to pass through the door they’re hoping to find. “Cas, we're gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us.” Poetry, Dean, pure poetry.

Back on the docks, Benny tells Dean that he’s hunting his maker. “Why?” Dean wonders. ”Kill him, before he kills me, again.”

Sam is still struggling through his motel equipment induced psychosis. This time the ice machine reminds him of trying to fix Amelia’s backed up sink. She finds him in her motel room and becomes instantly combative.

Going through Benny’s old nest’s belongings, they find a list of yachts.

It seems that’s how they would feed. Track yachts, board, burn, and bury it at sea. Dean picked up on the salient point of the story. “Vampire pirates. That’s what you guys are. Vampirates.” DEAN BEAN. I think Dean and Benny are friends because Benny actually enjoys Dean’s jokes.

They locate an address and head out. On the road, Dean gets Benny’s backstory on why he was killed. He was loyal to his maker, and the nest, until he met Andrea, a beautiful Greek heiress. They settled in Louisiana. His former vampire nest found them, tore out Andrea’s throat, and beheaded Benny. I haven’t heard a more tragic love story since a hunter traveling to the ends of purgatory to find his angel only for said hunter to lose the angel anyway.

Benny and Dean make it to their destination. Here is a picture of Dean just chilling on the bow of a boat. I never noticed that before. Heehee.

They head into the opulent house, machetes drawn. Benny finds a picture of Andrea on a table. It’s recent and in full color. Benny panics over it when a door opens from above and Andrea walks down the stairs. He stares at her in shock while the rest of the nest creeps up on him and knocks him out. “Idiot,” Dean spits at Benny from where he’s hidden himself. Oh, Dean. Love does not make us weak.

Benny wakes up to the taunts of his old nest while Dean prowls the hallways, blithely ignoring Sam’s phone calls.

Meanwhile, Sam stalks Amelia online in between irritated calls to Dean. Cut to a flashback of Amelia asking Sam, “You stalk helpless women and you break into their motel room and you fix their plumbing?” Listen. God bless you, Ben Edlund, for your delightful juxtapositions and also for the double entendre of “fix their plumbing.” You glorious canary. Anyway, Sam stares at her, gormless, and explains that he’s fixed the sink (that somebody shoved a ton of limes into). He stares at a fresh bag of limes on the counter. We all stare at the bag of limes on the counter. Amelia, what the fuck’s up with all the limes? And why are you so ashamed of them that you’re cramming them down the disposal? We learn that Amelia has “moved into town” by setting up residence at the local pay-by-the-week motel.

(I hope limes factor into your “Amelia is a hallucination” theory, Boris.)

Back with Dean, he angrily calls Sam and demands to know why Sam called him. Oh, Dean Bean. Dean whisper-shouts to Sam that he’s stalking a vamp nest...while he’s stalking the vamp nest. Sam’s considerably concerned (pissed) that Dean is taking on a vamp nest alone. Dean protests that he’s not alone, he’s with a friend. Sam responds with, “All your friends are dead!” OUCH. Sam, ouch.

Back with Benny, Andrea gives Benny a good slap, shoos away other vamps, and then leans in and...kisses him. Yay? When I first saw this episode I remember going YAY but, guys, I have seen this episode so I’m just going to weep gently for the rest of the recap. Benny and Andrea talk about their vampirism. Andrea slips a knife into Benny’s pocket and gives him the keys to his cuffs. She tells Benny to kill their master so that they can be together. Cue swelling music.

Back with Dean, he’s still having a shouty angry match with Sam when he detects a vampire. He uses Sam shouting on the phone as a lure (yesss) and slices off one vamp head, only to see another one just down the hall. His phone gets smashed in the fight. Oops.

Benny heads up with his guard to find his master in quiet contemplation in his study. The dude’s quite curious how Benny came to be topside, and wonders where he was while he was dead. Secrets secrets, man…

Meanwhile, Dean...

Back in Purgatory-flashback land, Benny argues against Dean’s monster prejudice. He tells him, “I think we both know which of our kinds kills more humans.” Cas backs up Benny. Oh, the burn, the sick, sick BURN.

Benny tells Dean he’d gone clean before he died - donated blood only. There was too much good in humanity to kill it. While Dean and Benny squabble over the morality of vampires, Cas squints into the forest. Leviathan are approaching! They’re too close so there’s nothing for it but to run.

In the present Dean stalks the house…

In the present Sam heads off to find Dean…

Oops, we fell into the past again. Sam’s dog - named Dog? - runs into Amelia’s room and snuggles on her lap, drawing Sam awkwardly into her motel room. *eyebrow waggle* “I’ve seen a lot of stitches in my time and you got really good hands,” Sam tells her. SAM where did you learn pick up lines oh my god. Oh wait. You learned them from watching Dean, right? You learned them from watching Dean.

Amelia tells Sam that he must be a thrifty serial killer which...is certainly truth-adjacent. Sam asks her if she’s as shiftless as he is. She has nowhere to go because she has no one. Amelia nods. AMELIA my god if someone asks you if someone is going to miss you then you say YES this is stranger danger 101. She can’t resist his puppy eyes though. Amelia and Sam bond in the soft focus lighting.

Back with Benny in the present, the master continues to prowl around the study and boasts that he has everything he wants - both the sea and Andrea. Um. Okay. Benny tells him he doesn’t have Andrea, reveals his uncuffed hands, and then slices up the vamp lackey. The master tries to talk up how their long life is full of ennui and oh, wail wail, life is meaningless. Benny kills him.

After it’s done Benny finds Andrea. Yeah, baby! Let’s go live together in peace.

Andrea wants to “ride the high seas, plunder together.” MmmmHMMM. Oh, but also she wants to be a vampirate and kill people with Benny.

He looks at her sadly. “What I love. It ain’t here anymore. It was snuffed out long ago by monsters like me. I think we’re all damned.” Andrea vamps out and lunges for Benny when Dean suddenly comes from behind, knifing her in the gut and then chopping off her head.

Later, Benny asks Dean why he resurrected him - a horrible monster. Dean looks at his friend with the concern of someone who’s seeing his friend drowning into suicidal misery. Dean thinks back to Purgatory...

Sudden flashback to Purgatory! Leviathans zap in. There are two of them. Cas gets thrown to the ground by a leviathan whose mouth opens wide to swallow him down when….

Benny kills it, and saves Cas. (Me: curls up in a ball whispering “Dean saved Benny because he saved Cas. He saved Caaaaas”)

Back at the mainland dock, Dean and Benny disembark to find Sam. There’s a long, slow, beautiful moment where Sam shakes Benny’s hand and realizes what he is. His fingers twitch towards his weapon and then Dean slowly and almost imperceptibly shakes his head. It’s such a lovely moment of silent communication fraught with tension on all sides. “I can see you two have a lot to talk about,” Benny observes. He gathers up his stuff and heads out while Dean and Sam glare eye daggers at each other.

Benny, This is Quotes:

Mind if I take the Toblerone?

It does present a curious curl in the metaphysics, doesn't it? If you murder a monster in monster heaven, where does it go?

It’s good to know you’re as dumb as ever.

Vampirates!

Was Fabio on the cover of that paperback?

I am evil after all. At least I’ve had that much to keep me cold at night.

Don’t touch the produce.

All your friends are dead.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn picspam #spn 8x05 #blood brother #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #benny lafitte #supernatural season 8 #he was my ben edlund thing

20 notes · View notes

jeonggukingdom · 7 years

Text

depiction of love; 4. Addicted to you

▽ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

▽ Genre: Romance (Fluff) | drabble series

▽ Summary: The very depiction of love, a kiss, can be given in a rush before leaving the house or with indubitably different intentions in the corner of a crowded room but it is always a silent secret held between the lips of the receivers, the lovers, the couple. It is always different, as different as the feelings buoying around it are for, its peculiarity, is the lack of voidness.

▽ Prompt: "Good Morning” kiss

▽ Word Count: 1.371 words

▽ AN: basically I just fell in love with a drabble game about kisses (here) and I just couldn’t resist making a series out of it.

He tilts his head to the side – the morning light that filters through half-closed curtains still too heavy for his eyes – and closes his lids once again as his body slowly awakens along with his mind.

A groan leaves his mouth as he takes in the sparse bedroom basked in sunlight and a smile plasters on his lips as soon as her features come into his sight.

His body shifts, careful to not interrupt her sleep, and he finds himself resting on a side, his arms right under his face to support his head whilst he takes in every detail of her.

Her long hair is ruffled behind her head, probably tangled by last night’s activity, her brows relaxed upon her closed lids, her long lashes grazing her pink cheeks making her look just like a porcelain doll or, even, an angel descended from heaven.

He sighs in contentment as his eyes find the curve of her cherry lips that he loves so much to kiss and bite and claim as his property whenever he can. Even now, if he didn’t risk waking her up, he’d brush his mouth against her soft one. It’s almost like he needs a constant reminder of what she feels and tastes like. And it also seems like a drug, something he just can’t stop craving even if he knows he shouldn’t.

When she’s not there, it’s all he can think about and, when she is there, she occupies every inch of his body, mind, and soul. She owns him in a way he never experienced before and, even though it is the scariest thing in the world, he wouldn’t have it any other way for there isn’t a greater keeper for his heart than her.

His eyes leave her face to gloss over the curve of her neck, the place he so likes to kiss and get lost into whenever she concedes him; the way his nose fits into her collar, right where her jaw ends and connects with her ear, allowing him to inhale her perfume to the fullest, is enough to make him the happiest man alive.

He loves the way his hands can get lost in the tangles of her hair or the way they fit perfectly into her own whenever they intertwine; he loves how her hips feel under his fingers and how he can perfectly cup her breasts with his palms; he loves how her legs are molded, exquisitely so to lodge right between his own.

He loves her melodious laugh and the way her nose scrunches up when she does so; he loves the way she bites down on her lip when she’s focused or deep in thought and, most of all, he loves that she has chosen him, out of all people.

He watches as her brows furrow and a hint of a pout twists her peaceful features until she exhales, loudly enough to signal him she’s not really asleep anymore.

“You know, it’s not polite to stare at people,” she mumbles with her sleepy raspy voice of hers that make his heart tumble all the more in his chest.

He cannot help the laugh that escapes his mouth and, truly, it is a miracle that he can produce such a sound so early in the morning when he would usually need at least a full cup of coffee just to utter a single world.

“How did you know I was looking at you?” he whispers back, his voice low and husky, such a great juxtaposition to his usually soft and slightly high-pitched tone.

She opens her eyes as a smile graces on her lips, her irises almost shining once she’s looking right at him whilst her body moves forward so that their breaths can mingle and their limbs entwine.

“I always know when you’re looking at me,” she mysteriously replies as her eyes close once again, her face nuzzling through the crook of his neck, her lips brushing against the soft skin there, a place she knows far too well to be his weak spot.

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, his arms encircling her figure to indulge a little more in the early morning haziness that makes everything look like it’s sheathed in cotton candy.

She stirs in his embrace and pushes him down until his back hits the softness of the mattress underneath him; her hand firmly on his chest, right where his heart beats rampant in his ribcage, her eyes focused on him once again, a playful smirk on her lips.

“You can’t help being a creep?” she quips back, the mocking tone that laces her words drawing a smile on his face.

“Well, at least I’m your creep,” his face scoots closer to hers until he can brush her nose with the tip of his own, tilting his head to plant Eskimo kisses there that successfully make her giggle and, he could swear to God, that is the most beautiful sound to his ears.

He takes a deep breath as he pins her down on the bed, their positions reversed without much of a struggle, and before he can stop himself he touches her inviting plump mouth. They are nothing but mere pecks, the kisses that land on her cerise lips, till the moment she parts her mouth – the silent request making his head spin as soon as he has at full disposal the unique taste she’s embodied with – the contact with her tongue enough to bring back memories of salacious activities held in hours drenched in silvery moonlight that make her skin luminescent and all the more captivating.

He hums in contentment the mysterious taste of strawberries that always seems to accompany her hits his palate; her hand brushing in soft caresses against his cheeks, neck and naked back leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He leaves her mouth with a sigh, his forehead resting upon hers as he searches for her eyes, the smile on his lips too large to be conceivable – not that he’s even trying.

“Well, good morning to you too,” she whispers with red swollen lips and cheeks dusted with pink roses that make her look even more tantalizing to his love-drunk eyes.

Her fingers brush his hair back, slightly pulling at the strands as she does so, eliciting a moan to escape his control – one that she surely aimed for since she’s far too accustomed with the things he likes and enjoys.

“Good morning, princess.”

He’d gladly stop time from ticking by and the sun from rising any higher in the sky, the signal for them to leave the coziness of their tangled sheets and take part in the everyday routine that forces them to part their ways for way too many hours for his liking.

It is always her that takes the initiative, that fights against his childish complains and, it’s always her – the sense to his sensibility – that successfully drags him out of bed and forces upon him the moral duty he has as part of the society. It’s a morning ritual, truthfully, and he would never admit it but, sometimes, he performs the role he was given just to see her huff and laugh at his antics, the image too endearing for his heart to not be witnessed every time the sun is up.

Park Jimin never thought it was possible to love someone else to such extent; he never deemed feasible that he’d find the right companion, the true match to his soul, yet, here she is and, God help him, he’d even lay down his life for her for she is, truth be told, the very lymph that runs in his system, the blood that makes his heart pump with such strength and the very soul lodged in the core of his chest.

“I love you,” he whispers in her ear, his hands firmly gripping her hips as she makes enough coffee to suffice at least three other people besides themselves.

She turns into his embrace to plant another kiss on his lips – one of a very long series before they are really forced to leave the house – the contact leaving his mouth tingling and craving for more, more and more.

“I love you too, silly.”

#noonanet #jiminnetwork #bangtanwriters-net #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin ff #jimin drabble #jimin fanfic #park jimin #bts jimin #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #bts react #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jimin imagine #jimin scenario #depiction of love

327 notes · View notes