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writingoddess1125 · 8 months

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loving reading Buggy's saga with his children, but I confess that I felt sorry for his balls being crushed in the last post😭

please help our dear Buggy recover from this illness 🥹

Of course sweety! 🍭 we shall cure the Muggy Buggy Balls!

Fever pt. 1

Buggy x FemReader + Buggy Twins

Old Men Series Masterlist

Wanna buy me some cup noodles? 🍜

After what was deemed the Nutcracker Arc, Buggy had been down a bit- He had wanted to have more children with you eventually but after the doctor saw the damage from the wooden sword and apparently damage from a previous incident that Buggy still refused to tell you about- The doctor essentially said his nuts were done for.

"I wanted daughters so bad..." He groaned into the pillows, still in his pouting faze as you sat next to him rubbing his back. It had been 2 weeks since Dee had taken the wooden sword to poor Buggys balls.

"I know honey.." You say softly, trying to comfort the man. Truthfully you had seen the damage and had a fairly confident feeling he was done with any baby making- Buggy was knife proof but not blunt force trauma.

"Hey it won't be that bad Buggy, You have two beautiful sons who will carry your legacy and besides we are heading to the island for the rest of our '60 day' vacation" You say softly, at this point the 60 days were no better then a joke- it had already been well over a month on the ship and with Buggy, you two just used the '60 days' as a way to tease one another over how silly it was. And an excuse for a vacation.

Buggy looked up st you, his makeup smeared on his face and he sighed in defeat. Nodding in agreement at this point.

"Yeah Yeah- Two destructive boys with devil fruit powers on an island unsupervised, What can do wrong" He said as he leaned his head against you his arm wrapping around your waist.

"Why would they be unsupervised?" You question with a raised brow, Buggy looking at you with a crooked grin.

"Well we will be busy of course" He says in a flirtatious manner- You playfully shoving his face away while blushing making both of you laugh.

"Land Ho!" A loud voice sounded through the ship, Snapping both of you from your thoughts as you your giggles.

Buggy getting up and offering a hand to you with a smile.

"Ready?" He asked, you could t help but feel your heart flutter at this. Grabbing his gloved hand and nodding, heading upstairs you saw the coming shores of land.

"Look!" Dee yelled from the crows nest, that being were he preferred to stay it seemed- Bee jumping around on deck like the hyperactive child he was.

There was a lush island that was filled with beautiful forest and a small village nestled there. It didn't take long for you all to dock at the island- Buggy happily escorting you and the boys through it.

The island he had picked was absolutely lovely, it was like a strip of paradise tucked nearly in the corner of the East Blue, a small village on the north side of the island and on the southern side was were Buggy had claimed for himself. It seemed Buggy was well Acquainted with the place as well since the locals were familiar with the crew and held no real fear of Buggy either.

"Wow! It's so big!-" Bee cheered loudly at seeing the Island, Dee nodding in agreement as they looked at the village.

"Hehe that's what your mo-" "Medium" You deadpanned, immediately taking the wind from Buggy's sails as he pouted at you taking his joke away.

"Here" Buggy said reaching in his pockets, handing the twins some change and telling them to explore the island and giving them the key to the Inn room they were in.

"This island is you're to explore, Just don't be stupid and go into the water" He said with a grin, the Twins smiling in delight at this before rushing off with their new found freedom.

"Buggy are you sure?-" You question as you watched them run away cackling like little demons.

"This place is totally safe- Besides I'm sure they are just gonna raid the candy shop anyway" You couldn't disagree with his decision and nodded.

Buggy excitedly lead you to the inn you all would be staying in while the details to the cabin was set in. It was a small tradional inn and had a hot spring attached, truthfully you thought it was quite adorable but beautiful non the less. Taking a seat on the massive futon bed you smiled at your Partner.

"I gotta admit, you did a really good job Buggy" You say earning a wide smile from the Clown Pirate.

Buggy was clearly proud of his choices, the praises from you and boys definitely fanning his ego. Especially since you didn't disagree with him that this was a terrific spot or that the inn was quite beautiful.

"I'm going to check how long till the cabin is complete-" He said with a grin kissing your lips before leaving.

The boys were out exploring the island, Buggy was checking on the cabin. You had the room to yourself? Oh how the stars aligned- jumping up you quickly grab a bottle of wine and open the back sliding door to see the amazing hot spring in the back. This was heaven-

Buggy returned after an hour, having picked up some dinner for the two of you to try and have a date night in- He knew he was still new to the whole romance thing but he was trying, aka using books to figure out.

"Hey (Y/N) yhe Cabin will be completed in a few days" Buggy said calmly, walking into the room expected you there- But was met with silence, raising a brow he walked in the room fully and opened the back sliding door that lead to the private hotspring.

That's when his world froze- There you were standing in the hotspring, it looks like you were grabbing a cool rag for yourself and just bend in the perfect angle to see everything.

You turned quickly hearing the noise of the door opening and saw Buggy there with his eyes as wide as saucers and clearly very pleased to see you. Not even having to say anything you turn and face him fully.

When the house was finished you and your small family all moved in. Buggy talking about this would be a safe house for you and kids anytime after the '60 days' or if you wished to just move here and he would return regularly.

Blushing as you stood in the hot water, Buggy catching the look in your eyes starting to strip and sliding into the water after you. His eyes never leaving yours as he closed the space between you two in moments- his hands wrapping around your waist quickly as you two smiled at each other.

It seemed Buggy was right, you and him would be busy.

Truthfully it was pure domestic bliss.

And it was this way- For a little over a month till one morning. You woke up and everything just seemed terrible, The bed made your back hurt, the lights were too bright, the twins already up and too loud.

You heard Buggy trying to talk to you excitedly but his voice was muffled and difficult to understand. Truthfully you didn't even remember making it to the kitchen and making yourself a cup of tea-

It was like you blinked and you were there, the boys chattering loudly as Buggy tried to get them to sit the fuck down as well as telling you something you didn't understand. You felt a hand finally touch your head, seeing Buggy in a different shirt and the twins gone... how long had you dozed off for?

"You look flushed-" Buggy muttered, his eyebrows crunching up as he got way too close to your face. You didn't know why but his face seemed to irritate you, or was it the smell of the apple shampoo? Or possibly-

"BLECH!" You vomited, right on the front of Buggys shirt.

Buggy's face turned red, like he was going to yell but held back and took a breath. See how you had been out of it most of the morning and fairly unresponsive despite him asking repeatedly if you were okay.

"Let's get you to the doctors.."

He said finally, Sighing as he peeled off the shirt and helping you up.

It was a short trip to the doctor in the village, Buggy being too loud in demanding you be seen right away- You wanted to choke him..

In a few minutes the doctor arrived and gave you a routine check-up, You sitting their while Buggy talked some more about random stuff as the Doctor stood back with a surprised smile on his face.

"I see what's going on-" The doctor said with a smile, both you and Buggy staring at the doctor as he set his tools to the side.

"Congratulations! You're pregnant" He said with a joyous voice- you and Buggy freezing at this.

"W-What but- I thought I was done for!?" Buggy said first as he pointed to his pants- The doctor shrugging at this.

"Well it sees you still gad a chance, but a chance non the less- If you keep trying eventually something can take root" The doctor admitted calmly. You sitting thinking back to different moments in your life... mainly your labor with the twins... 36 hours for both.. the diapers and all that 'fun'.

"How far?.." You manage out, still feeling shell shocked at this news.

"Hm I'd say 5 weeks along give or take?-" the doctor said calmly as he tapped his chin.

You both looked at each other, the thoughts swirling in your guys head as it clicked. 5 weeks is when you guys arrived at the island and..

"The Inn Hotspring-"

You guys said in unison. Buggy staring at you in total shock like the puzzle peices were still formulating in his brain- before he broke out in a wide smile, started loudly cheering and jumping.

"YOURE PREGNANT HAHAHA!"

You sitting there in shock as your partner jumped around the room... did 60 days just turn into 9 dog damn months?

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader

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crappymixtape · 6 months

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gold & glitter

REQUEST → @superblysubpar, A VERY MERRY MIXTAPE ❝ i’m thinking a little rich!steve harrington, a little spicy somethin, somethin and a holiday play – spicy is right, steve takes you to see the nutcracker, but you don’t even make it to the first act • 18+ | ( 3.1k – smut with a dash of fluff, rich!steve x reader )

G O L D & G L I T T E R 🎶 the nutcracker suite, tchaikovsky

“Good evening, Mister Harrington. Miss. May I take your jackets?”

“Thank you, Charles. Did you order the MacCallan Anniversary malt?”

“Of course, sir. It is available neat here from your decanter or we can dress up however you like. Miss, your jacket?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you opened them again expecting the finery before you to disappear into thin air like a dream, but it didn’t.

“Oh ye-yeah. I mean-yes. Yes, thank you,” you stumbled over your words as the waitstaff took your coat and disappeared behind the curtain. God, you were working overtime to maintain the same level of calm and collected sophistication that seemed to come so easily to your date.

Steve Harrington. Son of John Harrington and heir to the Harrington fortune. One with a foundation built by generations of brokers and wealth managers. Carried on throughout the years to be passed down to the eldest or, in Steve’s case, the only son.

You’d been together for over a year now, but you still weren’t used to it. This lifestyle.

Going anywhere with him meant multiple planned routes in and out of your destinations. Private cars with dark tinted, bullet-proof windows. Black American Express cards, Gucci loafers, and champagne flown direct from the Garonne Valley in Bordeaux, France.

And of course, at Christmastime, a viewing of George Balanchine's The Nutcracker from a private balcony, performed by only the finest troupe at the New York City Ballet.

You’d been to the theatre, the opera, but never like this. A suite all to yourselves, up and away from prying eyes, and upon each seat rested a pair of exquisitely golden opera binoculars for your viewing pleasure. It felt otherworldly. Lush and dark, gilded and polished. Long, red, crushed velvet curtains draped heavy to the floor and on a small table thick, crystalline tumblers sat next to a matching decanter full of only the finest single malt whiskey.

Lifting a hand, you ghosted an immaculately manicured finger around the rim of one of the glasses.

“Is it up to your standards, honey?”

The low, warmth of Steve’s voice broke your trance and pulled your gaze quick to look up at him.

“What?” you wondered aloud, still surprised at how he could ask such questions, “My standards? God. It’s beautiful.”

“Good. M’glad you like it.”

A smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth as he watched you walk to lean out over the balcony and look down at the sea of seats below. You were wearing the emerald green dress he’d bought you especially for the occasion. Made of the finest silk and fitted tight against every curve and dip of your body. Your hair swept long over one shoulder, soft skin exposed through the keyhole cut into the back. You were exquisite.

And you were all his.

Tucking a hand into the pocket of his slacks he reluctantly looked away from you and took up the decanter to pour a measure of whiskey for himself. MacCallan, single malt, from 1928 and around three-hundred thousand dollars a bottle. Lifting the tumbler he inhaled deeply and let his eyes drift shut. Worth every single penny.

“Charles,” his voice notched up in volume and the man from earlier appeared through the thick, velvet curtains.

“Sir?”

“A bottle of Dom and a chilled glass,” Steve took a drink from his whiskey and let it sit on a his tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. “Oh, and my cigar case.”

“Sir, you know smoking isn’t permitted–”

Steve hummed, a low thrum in his throat, and stepped forward toward the other man.

“How much do I pay for these seats, Charles? How much does my family pay for these seats? Since the theatre opened in 1964…I’ll let you do the math,” he took another sip of whiskey and lifted a hand to smooth down the other man’s cravat, “My cigar case.”

“Yes. Of course, Mister Harrington,” the man replied quietly, eyes glued to the cheap, shiny black plastic of his dress shoes.

Steve put on a smile, the one he gave to clients when he knew he’d closed an account, and gripped the man’s shoulder, “Good man.”

And without another word Charles was off again through the curtain.

There was no denying it, Steve’s presence always held weight. Held power. No one could tell him no. Stood in boardrooms dressed to the nines. Gold heirloom cufflinks, custom tailored jackets and Tucci de Lusso oxfords included, but this version of him was different. Somehow more and you didn’t know how it was possible.

Brunette locks perfectly coiffed. Custom black Armani suit fitted tight across his chest and shoulders. Gold signet ring with his initials engraved upon it shining up from his index finger, and damn if his ass didn’t look incredible in those slacks.

You clicked your tongue at him and fixed him with a look, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Babe, he’s just trying to enforce the house rules,” smoothing a hand up his chest, you pretended to adjust his tie as an excuse to touch him.

“Honey, you and I both know who makes the rules around here,” he drawled, his tone making you weak in the knees, and he set his glass down in favor of taking hold of your waist. His hand wide and warm on the small of your back as he ran it down the curve of your ass and squeezed, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“Steve,” you chided, no heat behind it, and he dipped down to press a kiss to your neck.

“This really is your color,” he whispered in your ear and your eyes fluttered at the sound. Pressed your thighs together as he traced a finger across your exposed collarbone. Warmth blooming in your core as he followed the hem that chased along the edge of your shoulder.

“You’ve got good taste,” you whispered back, swallowing the moan that had crept up your throat and he grinned.

“I do, don’t I.”

“Sir, your cigar cas–oh!”

Charles came back through the curtain to find the two of you pressed into each other, Steve’s nose buried in the crook of your neck. Your cheeks burned at being caught.

“My sincerest apologies, sir! I should’ve–”

“S’alright,” Steve chuckled, pulling away from you to casually take the case from the other man without missing a beat. He reached into his money clip and slipped a hundred dollar bill into Charles’ hand, “Now. That will be all. If I need anything, I’ll ring you.” The finality of his words hung in the air.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Excuse me,” and with that Charles disappeared again for what you were certain, after all that, would be the last time.

“Shit,” you breathed, cheeks still bright red as you bit back a laugh.

Steve was laughing too, but no where near embarrassed, and he grabbed your hand to pull you close to his chest again as the theatre lights flickered and slowly dimmed.

“Mmm, damn. Showtime,” he murmured softly into your hair.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of having to sit so still, and so far from Steve for three hours, but then another thought came to you. One that made your cheeks flush again and you pressed your face into his lapel, breathing in the citrusy, cedar scent of his cologne.

Pulling away just enough to meet his gaze the expression you maintained was innocent, but the look in your eye wasn’t. It was dark and needy. Warm and flickering at the feeling of his hands on your waist.

“We could freshen up first,” you suggested quietly and as Steve put your words together his pupils blew wide. Pools of black edged in gold and he squeezed at the plush of your hip.

“Uh-huh,” came out strangled and it was all he could manage. Unable to focus on anything other than rucking that silk dress up around your thighs, and without hesitation he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the thick, velvet curtains.

The corridor was empty, Charles hiding wherever he’d rushed off to, and everyone else was in their seats to catch the opening act as Steve led you the short distance down the hall.

Luckily for you, the neighboring balcony’s ticket holders had filed for bankruptcy earlier in the year and now the restrooms on this wing were exclusively Steve’s. Doors crafted from thick oak and etched with breathtaking carvings of Swan Lake and Slyphide, they were heavy enough to drown out anything happening on the other side.

Thank god.

Ignoring the men’s and women’s signs, Steve chose the closest door and shouldered into it, bicep straining against the tight fabric of his shirt as he held muscled it open. It was a hurried mess, both of you tripping into the room on the train of your dress in a fit of giggles as Steve huffed a laugh and cursed under his breath.

“Baby.”

Heels clicking on the white granite tile floor, you regained your footing and finally took in all the exquisite details of the ornate room. Wide marble slabs. Bottles of lotion and perfume that cost more than your mortage. Gold fixtures shining in the low light falling from crystal chandeliers that refracted bright shards of color against the walls.

You would have appreciated the incredible beauty of it all, but Steve. You couldn’t have cared less and neither could he.

He spun you around to face him and hooked his arms behind the backs of your legs. Scooped you up off the ground and pulled a squeal from you as you held on tight around his neck to steady yourself.

Squeezing his hold on you, he freed an arm and swept it across the counter. Knocked the soap dish clattering into the sink basin and paid absolutely no attention to the lush basket of designer hand towels that fell to the floor as he lifted you with ease onto the marble surface.

“Steve,” you protested weakly and when he notched himself between your legs you felt yourself melt under him.

His hands were everywhere. Your waist, the small of your back, fingers pressing into your cheek and pushing your hair over your shoulder to drag messy, open-mouthed kisses against the skin there. It pulled a moan from your lips and at the sound he groaned into you.

“Christ, babe. I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since you climbed into the limo. Pretty as a fuckin’ picture in this thing. So damn hot. All for me, huh?”

“S’always for you,” you half-laughed, but it caught in your throat as he slipped a hand between your thighs, “God, Steve.”

“This for me too, honey?”

He gathered a handful of emerald green silk in one hand and pooled it at your waist as the cool air of the room sent a shiver up your spine. Then he caught sight of the black lace panties hugging tight against you and sucked in a breath. Bit down on his bottom lip and looked like he might cry.

“You’re gonna kill me with these. Are you kiddin’ me? Baby. Look at this,” he babbled, just standing there not touching you and you grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged him back into you.

“Talk too much,” you murmured against his ear, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and dragging your nails against his skin, “It’s all yours…Mister Harrington.”

And fuck if the dress and panties weren’t enough, the sound of your voice wrapped around his name did him in.

“Damn right it is.”

He growled as you tugged on his hair, slipped his hand back between your legs and tugged the thin fabric of your panties aside. The way he had been kissing and talking at you out on the balcony had been plenty to send you pressing your thighs together, but the way he was handling you in here had you soaked.

His fingers slipped in your slick as he felt just how wet you were and he smirked against your skin as he dragged his lips up to your jawline. Tutting softly he slowly circled your clit, his other hand moving to wrap gently around the column of your throat.

“Bet you want me to talk now, huh honey? You want that? Talk dirty to you?” his voice was barely above a whisper as his fingers slid down to press against your entrance.

You swallowed against the hand he had on your throat, your lips dropping open into a perfect little ‘o’ as you squirmed against the counter, impatient for him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed and he smirked at how he had you wrapped around his finger, literally as he slid one into you.

“That’s my girl. I know what you like, don’t I? Give you everything you need. Take care of you, hm?” he babbled, kissing and sucking at the hollow behind your ear as he began to slide his finger in and out, in and out. A slow drag at first before adding a second finger and pulling a moan from your lips.

“Good care of me,” fell out mindlessly as he gently tightened the hand on your throat making your heartbeat thud in your ears.

“This isn’t enough though, is it? Not enough. Want me to fill you up, don’t you honey?” he whispered and you nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and god you wanted him to make you see stars.

He pulled his hand from between your legs to undo the button on his pants and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the loss of his touch.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he coaxed, pulling down his zipper and reaching in to free his rock hard cock.

It sprang out of his pants without any encouragement and he wrapped a hand around it. Rubbed it against your slit as it practically cried in anticipation and as he slowly pushed himself into you it made you sucked in a rasp of a breath.

“Steve,” you begged and he moved his hand to grip your thigh.

“I know, baby.”

An inch more and he was into you up to the hilt. Filling you so much that you could feel the tip pressing against the spot only he could reach. Easing out he groaned as you clenched down on him before pushing back in and he set the pace there. A slow drag. In, out. In, out.

The wet sounds coming from you as he fucked you slowly were obscene. Made louder by the empty room, but you didn’t care. You wanted more.

“Harder,” you pleaded. He wanted it too and as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding into your cunt he nearly lost it.

Letting go of your throat he grabbed onto your other thigh for purchase and pulled you to the very edge of the counter. Picked up the pace and started fucking you faster, the slap, slap, slap of his thighs against yours filling the air.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feel so good. You like that? Huh? Want more?”

“More–shit. Yes, god. More, Steve.”

Your knuckles were white with how hard you were gripping the counter, moans falling freely from your lips now as Steve pushed you both closer and closer to climax. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he squeezed into the plush of your thighs and your hand flew up to grab at the back of his neck.

“Gonna–ugh–come, baby. Come with me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw ticking when he clenched down, and as he rocked his hips back into you, you both came.

Your orgasm wrapped around you tight. White hot. Electric. Every inch of you buzzing and sparking like fireworks on the fourth of July and you cried out as his thrusts fell out of sync, jerky and messy as he came down.

A soft thud echoed against the tile as your head fell back against the mirror behind you, beads of sweat holding your hair messy across your forehead. Steve leaned into you, rested his head on your chest, and slowly your breaths evened out.

Your lips twitched with a smile, your hand lifting to cover your mouth as you held back a laugh, and Steve seemed to have the same thought as he chuckled against your dress.

“Someone heard us. For sure,” you finally said, voice crackly from breathing so hard.

“And? Who gives a shit. Maybe we just gave them a good idea,” Steve grinned, looking up at you from where he rested his chin on your belly.

You swatted at him, gasping as he pulled out of you to avoid getting hit.

Bending down, Steve grabbed a couple of the hand towels from where they’d landed on the tile and ran warm water on them. Quickly cleaned himself up and then took his time with you. Paid close attention to where he’d held onto your throat. Where his fingertips pressed into your thighs. Dabbed softly across your forehead and spent extra time on the mess between your legs.

You touched up your makeup and perfume, adjusted Steve's tie and hair, and when you both finally emerged from the bathroom the piece the orchestra was playing reached a crescendo and the theatre filled with applause.

It couldn’t be the end of the first act?

Steve walked you easy back to the balcony and held the heavy velvet curtain open for you. Your gilded opera binoculars were still sitting perfectly upon your seat where you’d left them and the bottle of chilled Dom Perignon was on ice along with a champagne flute – you hated whiskey.

You both sank into your seats as the orchestra began to play again and you recognized the piece and shot Steve a look.

“The party scene just started,” you whispered, “We’re not even out of the first part of act one.”

“Christ,” he groaned, grinning into his hands as he rubbed them across his face. Then, glancing over at you he grabbed his cigar box, “We can always make up for it next year. Right?”

Your eyes grew wide.

“Skip the Nutcracker?” you asked incredulously and he quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah. Skip it and we’ll go catch part two of the bathroom scene at mine,” he said giving you a wicked grin and you feigned shock, your own grin threatening to shatter your facade.

“Mister Harrington, what would your mother say?”

And the look he gave you then was the absolute definition of smug.

“My Stevie boy always gets what he wants.”

And damn if she wasn’t right about that.

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givemewallywestorgivemedeath · 4 months

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Alright, gonna rattle off some Hazbin Hotel theories just to get them out of my system:

1) The Key that Lilith gave Charlie is the key to the pearly gates, aka a way into heaven. Which is why the cat didn't like Sir Pretentious until he was redeemable and why the key is the symbol used to depict the hotel on both the logo of the show and the logo on the hotel.

2) Lilith didn't just abandon everyone to vacay in heaven. Following my previous theory, she already had the key to heaven (likely given to her by Adam as a 'please come back 🥺🥺🥺' gift). From Charlie's recounting of the story, her mom loves hell and thrives down there so I'm really not buying this whole 'retire in heaven as Adam's rebound' thing. I'm going to say that Lilith infiltrated heaven under the guise of taking back Adam and being 'the good wife' again but she is 100% using her access to heaven to pull strings and get her grand plan going. She may have to keep Lute happy next season to keep her access, but it's not because she's a turncoat, it's because she's got motives.

3) Throwing this out there: I think it has something to do with Eve! I haven't even met Eve yet but I ship Eve and Lilith. Maybe Adam had Eve locked up somewhere and Lilith is trying to free her or, maybe Eve disappeared, hence why Adam wanted a new wife and Lilith is trying to find her or something.

4) Carmilla is Eve. Yeah, so the name Carmilla means 'Garden or Orchid', Carmine means 'Song or Crimson Red', she looks EXACTLY like Lilith except with a different color palette (and she's wearing angel steel ballet shoes and gloves), she styles her hair up to look like horns but she doesn't actually have any of her own, she killed an angel, she knew all about angel weaknesses and how to kill them, she figured out how to reforge angel steel into new weapons, and, most importantly, SHE HAS TWO KIDS THAT SHE IS VERY PROTECTIVE OF.

Now, part of me wants to say that Zestial, the confirmed oldest sinner in Hell, the super powerful demon that rules over the other overlords who cares immensely about Carmilla and vice versa, is actually Cain. Cain, aka Eve's son and the first murderer (and theologically rumored to be Lucifer's child which uhhhhh, the show kinda seems to be hinting at with Lucifer implying that him and Eve had a thing?) So yeah, I like the idea that Carmilla loves her son despite his flaws and is trying to keep him safe in hell (knowing that Abel is completely fine in heaven)

But I also kinda want to say that Odette is Abel and Clara is Cain? Look, Odette is wearing a headband with demon horns sticking out of it. Her horns look fake. Also, come on, Odette and Clara?? As in the lead characters from Swan Lake and the Nutcracker?? I'm not going to get into why renaming Cain after Clara from the NUTCRACKER is hilarious as it's pretty obvious. But renaming Abel after Odette, the princess with wings who literally dies and ends up in heaven at the end of the play, is also pretty obvious ngl. So I do also kinda think that Eve and Abel were chilling in heaven and then either Abel fell or Eve got word about the annual culling of sinners, and the two of them took on fake names and reunited with Cain/Clara. Eve is determined to do whatever it takes to keep her children safe and, while she does not like participating in violence, she will kill to protect her daughters. (And potentially Zestial is Clara's father? As Cain is rumoured to be either Lucifer's child or a demon's child)

EDIT: Okay I literally just realized that in the song "Whatever it Takes" she hugs her daughters and says that she will "be their keeper" which is a play on what Cain said to God after killing Abel. God asked where Abel was and Cain said "I am not my brother's keeper." So Carmilla in that song is vowing to keep her daughters safe by preventing war with heaven and being "their keeper".

5) Adam created all of the Exorcists from his ribs. Adam mentioned that he named Vaggie which either implies that Adam is Vaggie's father or that Adam created the entire Exorcist race. Considering Lilith and Eve were both created from Adam's ribs, all the Exorcists are women, they're called 'sisters', and all of them are bone white with 'angel blood' gold eyes, I think the dude just straight up made them all with his bones! Adam even offered a plate of ribs to Charlie when he was taunting her about killing off her citizens!

Anyway, these are my Hazbin Hotel theories. Let me know what you think!

#hazbin hotel #camilla carmine #lilith morningstar #theories #eve #lucifer morningstar

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martianbugsbunny · 6 months

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"Love is for children" "I see a scared little boy, shivering in the cold"

#I CANNOT be the first person to be those two quotes together #but GOSH #SON OF A NUTCRACKER #that really grills my cheese #lokius #loki #mobius #loki show #loki series #loki season 1 #the avengers #avengers 1 #martianbugsbunny ships

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igotanidea · 6 months

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Cookies: Jason Todd x reader

Christmas bingo day 18 : cookies

Her laughing was so hard and so disturbingly turning into desperate sobbing, that Jason could not help getting alarmed. So, throwing his book away and almost tripping over their cat he jumped off the couch rushing to the bedroom where his lovely, emotionally unstable girlfriend were fighting for her breath, almost spitting her lungs out rolling in the sheets and holding her belly.

"Y/n?" He stuttered, quite amused by the scene in front of his eyes though he couldn't deny certain cuteness to it. She felt comfortable enough around him to actually let her guards down and turn into happy child mode. To the point where she couldn't hear him."Y/n!" He tried again falling on his stomach on the bed causing her to jump a little form the recoil "what's so funny babe?"

"Oh Jace!" She rolled on the side to face him "I've just talked to f/n. Apparently your older brother -"

"Not my brother -" Jason muttered turning a little bit grumpy, only earning eye rolling and tongue sticking from her.

"Technicals, love. Whats important is that Dick got her into baking cookies. Tricked her with using the word nutcracker." Y/n chuckled

"She thought he was going to take her out for the ballet, didn't she?" Jason couldn't help a smirk at the story. "This does sound like Dick."

"Pun intended?" His girl smirked back knowingly

"Most definitely pun intended. So how did it end, did he burn the load or did f/n had to do the work? Wait-- don't answer that I think I already know."

"He said it was a couple bonding exercise."

"Oh really?" Jason raised an eyebrow scooting closer to her and grabbing her waist "I got some other ideas for that -"

"Yeah good thing we settled on not baking this year -" she wriggled out of his embrace, sitting on the bed cross legged and fixing her hair without a care of what Dick and f/n did.

And then it hit her, her brain shutting off from the reality.

And when she looked at Jason she knew he figured it out too.

***

There was no freaking way Jason and y/n were going to get outdone in the baking area. Never .

***

And if the oldest batman son made (sort of) cookies, it could only mean that he was going to bring them to a family feast and keep on bragging about hidden culinary talent.

No freaking way.

So acting like a two pieces of the same, well-oiled machine Jason and y/n gathered all the necessary ingredients, grabbed their matching aprons and started producing something that could, hands down, be called a masterpiece.

The recipie that never failed them was enriched with a secret ingredient called love as they laughed and bantered during the preparation.

And obviously he didn't mean to blow that flour her way and made her sneeze. And that vicious smile on his face only meant apologies. It really wasn't Jason's fault that she took this a cue to get all competitive.

"You know what?" Once she managed to wipe the white powder from her face her eyes glistened mischievously "I got an idea"

"Did you think about it a lot?"

"Well it took me longer than it takes you to finish when-"

"Shut up!" He turned red instantly getting a handful of cinnamon and rubbed it into her crystal white apron "oh, you're so clumsy princess, such a messy cook. Maybe you should just leave the professional to do the complicated work?"

Much to his surprise, instead of lunging at him (which would give him opportunity to grab her and tease her in some other ways than verbal) his words only made her take an exhale, shake her head and smile.

Uh huh. Not a good sign.

"You want to stand against me Todd? You sure about that? I don't think you realise what's coming for you, pretty boy." Her hands found a way to her hips as she stood in a power pose that could do very little to intimidate him.

"Flattery will get you nowhere princess" he leaned forward over the kitchen counter testing her nerves and patience.

"Are you that terrified you feel the urge to distract me?"

"May the best cook win" he grinned pulling her cooking hat onto her eyes blocking her view for a few seconds just to get a head start, grab the ingredients and put them out of her reach.

"That's cheating!" She protested trying to retrieve the necessary products

"I can't remember us setting the rules."

"Bully!"

"That's not what you said when- ouch!" The sudden stepping on his foot took him by surprise, giving her the chance to grab the baking powder and eggs and start running. Once she reached the pantry, she immediately locked the door.

At the moment they were at an impasse.

Y/n had the eggs and baking powder while Jason was left with flour and sugar.

Pretty much neither of them could make actual and edible cookies without cooperating.

"Come on princess don't be like that." He yanked on the door handle "you can't win you know it"

"Is that a surrender I hear in your voice?"

"You wish! I'm merely giving you a chance to walk with your head high and not shamefully defeated"

"Admit it you can't do a single thing without my input!"

"I think that's pretty obvious at this point of our relationship..." He said, his tone suddenly turning soft. "It scares me sometimes how dependant of you I am... Come on baby open up..."

"You're not playing me?" She asked from behind the door, her heart beating so loud that the blood was rushing in her ears

"Cross my heart-" he started but before he finished, she actually unlocked the door and stood in the doorframe still a little bit hesitant and careful, having learnt to watch out for him and his games.

"Hey...." She muttered diligently assessing the situation.

"Fool!" Jason yelled, grabbing her and pulling her to a kiss that seemed to last forever but still not long enough. "You didn't actually think I didn't have an ulterior motive did you?"

"You're such a dork Todd ..." She chuckled (not) trying to break free.

"Oh damn, this woman is still talking! Not on my watch."

And once their lips met again, they had the world in their grasp in the person of one another. For what they cared the rest of it could have burned.

And talking about burning -

"Our cookies are still gonna be better right?" She pulled back after a minute not really capable of getting rid of that competitiveness.

"Damn right. But the dough can wait a little bit longer." He retorted.

Preferably all night cause they were going to be busy with some other kind of sugar and sweetness.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #christmas bingo

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highflyartist · 2 years

Text

I want to sleep but I can't

So you know what I did?

I sketched out my son and his girlfriend.

Most of these sketches are fluff & angst. Most of the angst is for Saragona though-

Plus, I like drawing fluff. I think it's cute

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supernaturalscribe67 · 1 month

Text

Destiny

Words: 7,528

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Male!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Slight Angst (if you squint), Language, Brotherly Drama/Teasing, Sexual Innuendos

Summary: (Y/N) Winchester never thought he would have to play a prominent role in the fight between Michael and Lucifer, but when Gabriel's attempt at convincing Sam and Dean to accept their destiny fails, (Y/N) is left pondering the situation at hand. What happens when Gabriel reveals the truth behind his disappearance from Heaven and his own role in the fight?

Heavily Inspired by S5.8 "Changing Channels"

Request:

Hey!! I was hoping you would be able to do this request.

It could feature hurt/comfort, angst, and fluff :)

Gabriel x Winchester!Reader

He could be trans or cis, up to you.

There was a younger Winchester brother, and with 3 full blooded Winchesters meant of course, a 3rd vessel. Gabriel's vessle. You both aren't keen on the idea of possession and end up falling for each other? Destiny had brought them together for battle but their hearts yearned for something else.

(something along those lines atleast)

@genekies

A/N: I've sat here for the last ten minutes staring at the Summary because my brain is non-existent right now. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this! Sorry it's so late! I also hope you don't mind that I changed the 'younger' Winchester to a middle Winchester~ I enjoyed writing something cute and fluffy after that heavy story I posted! Feedback is appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“Son of a bitch.”

“It’s him. It’s Doctor Sexy.”

“Nutcracker!”

“I’ve got genital herpes.”

(Y/N) blamed himself for this. Why he thought any hunt he and his brothers did would be normal was beyond him. When was anything the Winchesters did ever normal?

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d encountered tricksters, none of them pleasant. Still, something about this trickster was different. Slight abnormalities in the realm of possibilities, Sam, Dean, and Castiel all agreed, Castiel seeming to know more than them, but unable to voice his thoughts before being whisked away by said ‘trickster’. From there, the Winchester brothers were tossed from TV show to TV show, enduring humiliation and awkward conversation. It wasn’t until Sam was transformed into the Impala that it clicked.

It wasn’t a trickster. It was an angel.

That was how they ended up in an abandoned warehouse, the angel stood in the center of a ring of Holy Fire. (Y/N) tried to hide the exhaustion on his face that resulted from their hectic escapades. What he would kill to go back to their motel, crawl under the scratchy covers, and go to sleep.

“Where’s you get the Holy Oil?” The angel asked, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

“Well, I guess you could say we pulled it out of Sam’s ass,” Dean replied, straight-faced.

Sam clenched his jaw and sent a death glare towards him. (Y/N) snickered, earning him the same glare. He pressed his lips together, mumbled a faint ‘sorry’ under his breath, and turned his attention back towards the wannabe trickster.

The smirk he had vanished. “Where’d I screw up?” He asked.

“You didn’t,” Sam shook his head. “Nobody gets a jump on Cas like you did.”

“It was the way you talked about Armageddon,” Dean explained.

“Meaning?” The angel furrowed his brows.

“Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they’re talking about their own family.”

The angel looked away and lowered his head, a silent confirmation of their suspicions.

“So, which one are you?” Sam cocked his head to the side. “Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?”

(Y/N) bit the inside of his cheeks, lowering his head to hide the small smile that appeared. Despite the gravity of the situation, he had to admit that Sam’s question was a little funny. He blamed it on him being tired. He was quick to erase the expression off his face before lifting his head. The angel’s gaze shifted over to Sam, and he hesitated for a moment.

“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.”

“The archangel?” Sam asked.

“Guilty.”

“Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a trickster?” Dean questioned.

Gabriel shifted. “I consider it my own, private Witness Protection. I skipped out of Heaven, got a face transplant, and carved out my own little corner of the world. Until you three screwed it up,” his tone was full of irritation.

(Y/N), Sam, and Dean shared a glance, almost as if communicating telepathically with one another - something they had become accustomed to growing up. While they knew significant details about the conflict between the archangels Michael and Lucifer, it seemed, to them, that the situation ran a lot deeper than it originally appeared.

“So, boys, now what?” Gabriel’s voice broke them out of their trance. “Are we just going to stare at each other for the rest of eternity?”

Dean licked his lips. ‘Well, first of all, you’re going to bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, or we’re going to dunk you in some Holy Oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw, looking over at Sam, then at (Y/N). All of them shared the same serious expression. Poking his tongue into his cheek, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Shuffling could be heard behind the trio as they turned their heads to see a disheveled Castiel. His hair was more ruffled than usual, and a small cut ran across the bridge of his nose. Blood was splattered on the collar of his trenchcoat. He stumbled slightly.

“Cas, you okay?” (Y/N) asked.

“I’m fine,” Castiel replied, his icy gaze locked on Gabriel. “Hello, Gabriel.”

Gabriel lowered his hand, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled tightly. “Hey, bro. How’s the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful,” Gabriel’s tone was harsh.

The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. It was obvious that there was more going on in Heaven than the Winchesters were led to believe. Multiple sides mean multiple stories. Who knows what really happened?

“Alright, let’s get out of here. Sam, (Y/N)?” Dean slowly started to step towards the exit.

Sam was the first to move, while (Y/N) seemed hesitant. In the end, he, too, turned his back on Gabriel and made his way towards his brothers. Castiel soon followed.

“No,” Gabriel muttered. “Okay…hey, guys, so…” he stumbled over his words. “So what, huh? You’re just, you’re just gonna leave me here forever?”

When the group reached the door, they all turned back to him.

“No,” Dean began. “We’re not, because we don’t screw with people the way you do. And, for the record, this isn’t about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can’t be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, as if to object, but stopped himself. He lowered his head in shame, turning his back to them. Wordlessly, Dean looked back, spotting a fire alarm on the wall. He easily broke the glass surrounding the alarm and pulled the handle. A shrill, faded sound echoed within the broken building. As Gabriel looked up, the aged sprinkler system burst open, showering him with cold water. Gabriel gazed at them, his face filled with defeat.

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” Dean called out over the sound of the alarm.

With that, Sam, Dean, and Castiel turned their backs one last time on Gabriel, walking out of the building. (Y/N), however, stayed put, his eyes locked onto Gabriel’s. He studied the look of hurt on his face, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt. A part of him wanted to say something, to turn around and provide him with some type of comfort. They didn’t know what Gabriel was going through, nor what had caused him to leave Heaven in the first place. Perhaps, all he needed was someone to be there. To allow him to be heard. (Y/N) could relate to that feeling. Alas, as the ring of Holy Fire began to dissipate, over the blaring sound of the alarm, he could hear the faint shout of his older brother calling out his name. (Y/N) looked at the warehouse door, the breeze from the early morning shifting his wetting hair, then back to Gabriel. For a moment, he cast an apologetic look his way before he, swiftly, left the building.

*~*

A couple of weeks after the incident with Gabriel, (Y/N) couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts at bay. Although his brothers had all since left the interaction behind them, refocusing their attention on their odd hunting jobs, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the reminder of the expression on Gabriel’s face. He had taken the time to carefully consider what Gabriel had been going through, or what he had been through before he had left Heaven. Sure, he wasn’t aware of the extent of it all, but he could sure sympathize with how it felt to be stuck between his brothers during their spats. Sam and Dean never threatened the sanctity of Heaven over their problems, but still.

(Y/N) had taken many walks since then, because sleep had been so easily unobtainable. On nights when Sam and Dean slept soundly on their motel room beds - or couch, depending on who lost in the coin toss - (Y/N) would slink out of the room into the night. Alternatively, in the morning, if sleep didn’t come after the first walk, he would go on another, ultimately stopping for breakfast on his way back to the motel to appease his brothers.

Sam and Dean were none the wiser.

On those walks, his mind would always shift to Gabriel and the predicament he was in. In a way, he disagreed with what Dean had said to Gabriel. But, with everything that was said by Gabriel, himself, he partially agreed with it as well. Why was Gabriel so adamant about Sam and Dean allowing Lucifer and Michael to take possession of them for a fight that he wasn’t even willing to fight himself? He felt so in the dark about the whole debacle. Although he wasn’t directly involved in it, he was still interested to know what the fate of his brothers could be. It was thoughts and questions like those that kept his mind racing in the early hours of the morning, making him unable to get an adequate amount of sleep.

That night was no different. The three of them had traveled to a town along the East Coast, following the clues of a possible Wendigo. The case had just started, and the interviews and clues left much to be desired. They weren’t even close to pinpointing the approximate area in the nearby woodland where it could reside. Sam and Dean were running thin, and (Y/N) was no help. Not with the way his mind had been racing lately. It wasn’t like he could help it, though. He tried, he did, and a part of him couldn’t see how Sam and Dean were able to concentrate whilst everything was going on in Heaven. He had always envied them for their sense of focus, something he lacked greatly at times. When he started the walks, clearing his mind was his initial goal, but going out on his own, in the dead of night, only seemed to make his thoughts louder.

The town was small, and barely had much of a park, just some cheap playground equipment that looked as if it needed to be updated and a small trail. (Y/N) was thankful for the benches that were laid along the path. Despite the park’s size, it had a beautiful view; a full panoramic of the deep, dark ocean past craggy cliffs, cut off by a steel fence. The ocean was loud and, despite the distance from the land to the sea, mist sprayed (Y/N)’s face faintly, painting his features with minuscule water droplets. He had worn a jacket that night. Even though it was surprisingly hot during the day, as soon as the sun dropped, the temperatures did as well.

(Y/N) had been sat on the bench for close to an hour. If he had to guess, it was nearly midnight. Not once had he been able to keep Gabriel out of his mind. Gabriel, the fight, Sam, and Dean, all took turns at the forefront of his brain, but Gabriel won most of the time. He always drifted to the sad, kicked puppy-dog look he had before he left. He couldn’t imagine what Gabriel had to go through. (Y/N) thought Sam and Dean were impossible to be with all the time, but he couldn’t fathom being near Michael and Lucifer as much as Gabriel must have. He must have been quite burnt out.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” A voice jerked (Y/N) from his train of thought.

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide as he looked towards the direction of the voice. Stood, about a foot away from the bench, was Gabriel. His expression was soft, his brown hair partially damp, the locks illuminated slightly by the nearby street lamp. Once his heart rate began to return to normal, (Y/N) nodded and gestured towards the empty seat next to him.

“Sure,” he mumbled.

With a short nod, Gabriel shuffled over and sat down, leaning against the back of the bench. His legs were slightly spread and his hands were clasped together in his lap. For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, listening to the sound of the crashing waves from below. Even though Gabriel had done so much to the Winchesters as a part of his trickster ‘Witness Protection’, (Y/N) didn’t feel any resentment towards him, nor did he feel agitation, even with his proximity. A part of him thought he should be, that was how Dean would react, at least. Shouldn’t he be at least a little bit pissed? Perhaps it was the weeks of thinking, working the idea into his head that he and Gabriel could, potentially, have more in common than he originally thought. It could be that he was more forgiving than his brother. In the end, (Y/N) chalked it up to him being a great judge of character.

“How did you find me?” (Y/N) broke the silence.

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“How did you find me? These symbols, or whatever, Cas put on my ribs were supposed to stop angels from being able to find me. Or did he just tattoo my ribs for nothing?”

Gabriel let out a faint chuckle and shook his head. “I admit, you were hard to find. All I did, though, was follow the sound of your prayers. They were quieter than most, but they were still noticeable.”

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel, confused. “Prayers? I didn’t pray to you.”

“I guess not technically. I know that wasn’t your intention half the time, but, every time you thought of me, asked those questions, made those statements, it was as if you did.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips and gave a faint nod. “I see…”

They were, once again, engulfed in silence as they stared out onto the water. No one said anything. Surprisingly, it was peaceful.

“I guess I should be asking why you found me. Why are you here, Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked.

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, fumbling with his fingers. “Look, I’m not good at this sort of thing, but…” he trailed. “I thought I should come here and apologize. For everything.”

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel as he placed his hands into his jacket pockets and leaned back against the bench. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Sam and Dean, too?”

Gabriel snorted. “Are you kidding? Those two would probably stab me before I even had the chance to say anything.”

(Y/N) smirked. “I guess you’re right. The fact that you were practically hounding them to accept being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels doesn’t help your case either.”

“Yeah, I realized that I probably went about it the wrong way.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, I definitely went about it the wrong way.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” (Y/N) mumbled. “Why the fight, Gabriel? I mean, why now?”

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “Michael and Luci have been going at it for centuries. Even before this fight, they were at each other’s throats half the time.” he began to rub his fingers together. “But, this fight…it wasn’t originally supposed to only be those two.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Gabriel stuttered before he stood up. Slowly, he began to pace back and forth in front of (Y/N), looking between the ground and his hands. “You know what it’s like, right? Your brothers are arguing about the dumbest things and they’ve been going at it for a while, getting a little carried away, so you have to step in and, um,”

“Be the mediator?”

“Yeah! You have to try and calm them down so they don’t kill each other?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve had to do that plenty of times with Sam and Dean.”

“Right. Back then, I had to do the same thing with Michael and Luci. Sometimes it worked, and other times, not so much. With this fight, that’s what I was supposed to do.”

“Wait, this fight that they want to use Sam and Dean for? How’re you supposed to mediate that?”

“I was just supposed to make sure they didn’t actually kill each other. Try to get them to talk it out. I’ve always been good at that, so it would only make sense that I would take a crack at it this go around. However, since they would be at their full power in their vessels, the last thing that needed to happen was for them to turn on me, kill me, and then each other. So, to make sure I had enough power, I, also, have to have a vessel.”

Gabriel stopped pacing in front of him and finally faced him, his hands together in front of him. (Y/N) stared at him intently, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was as if Gabriel could see the gears working in his mind. If Michael needed a vessel, which was Dean, and Lucifer needed a vessel, which was Sam, then, that meant…

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Am I your vessel?” He breathed.

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Gabriel smirked, although it wasn’t as confident as the one he had when he was covered by his trickster persona.

(Y/N)’s mouth sat agape. He was gobsmacked. His lips moved up and down as he tried to form words, but his mind nor mouth would work. It all made sense, though. Why would Sam and Dean be the only vessels? Why had he never considered that he, too, was destined to be one? It was clear as glass, yet, the thought never crossed his mind.

“You know, when you think about it, it kind of makes sense that you’re my vessel. I mean, you’re the mediator, I’m the mediator. You’re the middle child, I’m practically the middle child. There are, actually, a lot of similarities between you and me. So, it was a great pick,” Gabriel rambled, placing his hands on his hips.

(Y/N) help his hand up. “Gabriel, just…stop.”

Gabriel looked down and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he pursed his lips.

(Y/N) sat there and attempted to wrap his head around the whole situation. His thoughts were foggy and the front of his head was starting to pound. He reached his hands up and began to massage his temples.

“So, what you’re saying,” (Y/N) let out a breathy chuckle. “Is that you, the archangel Gabriel, are supposed to use me as a mediator for your two power-hungry brothers who, may I remind you, are also archangels?”

Slowly, Gabriel nodded. “Basically.”

“And you think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What?”

Gabriel sighed. “Look,” He returned to his spot on the bench next to (Y/N), his body now facing him. “The times when my mediation did work was when they had their smaller fights. Little bickers here and there. When Michael and Luci are really, really mad at each other, nothing can get between them. So, most likely, what would happen is I would need to get involved in the fight to stop them.”

“Oh, God,” (Y/N) grumbled and placed his face into his hands.

“But, believe me, that is the last thing I want to do. I mean, Michael and Luci, they’re both strong on their own, but, if they were to team up against me for trying to stop them, even with you as my vessel, I don’t stand a chance. It would be two against one.”

(Y/N) just nodded, running his hands down his face, his gaze returning to the cool, pounding waves. A chill ran down his spine. He hadn’t realized how cold he had gotten, what with the mix of wind and misty air.

“Why are you telling me this now?” He asked quietly. “Why wasn’t I told any of this before?”

“Well, when I went off the grid, everyone just assumed that it was my way of backing out of the fight. In a way, I guess they were right.”

“And back at the warehouse? Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I still had no intention of joining the fight. However, after what Dean had said to me…” Gabriel shook his head. “I realized that he was right. I am a coward. I tried to push your brothers into accepting their roles as vessels because I want this fight to be done and over with. I just wish the fight didn’t have to happen. I figured it would be wrong if I didn’t tell you now. You deserve to know.”

“Well, I appreciate that. And, for the record, I don’t want this fight to happen either. The last thing I want is my brothers to get involved in something that has nothing to do with them.”

“The fight’s gonna happen one way or another, and I thought getting your brothers to go along would be the best way to go about it. Once I listened to your prayers, though, I realized how it would affect you. I know you wouldn’t want to lose either one of your brothers, even though they can be assholes sometimes.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, unlike your brothers, mine can be caring and nice when they want to be.”

“Believe it or not, Michael and Luci both have the capability of being nice! I witnessed it firsthand.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s not! Granted, they were a whole lot nicer when they were fledglings, kind of got a little rocky as they got older, but they could still be nice!”

“Wait, wait, wait, fledglings?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re fledglings?”

“Newborn angels.”

“So…baby angels?”

“In a sense,” Gabriel shrugged. A mischievous smirk then appeared at the corner of his lips. “Do you want to hear some embarrassing stories about when Michael and Luci were younger?”

“Of course I do,” (Y/N) sat back, turning his body to face Gabriel as well.

“Okay, but, in return, you have to tell me some embarrassing stories about your brothers.”

(Y/N) bit his lip as he contemplated the offer. Finally, he smirked. “Deal.”

For the next while, Gabriel and (Y/N) went back and forth, sharing their embarrassing stories from their abnormal families. They joked, laughed, and, overall, had a good time. Not only did it lighten the mood from the bombshell Gabriel had dropped, but it allowed them to grasp a basic understanding of their past and present lives.

There were a few things (Y/N) learned throughout their conversation. One; Gabriel and his brothers shared some scary similarities with the Winchesters in regards to mannerisms and attitudes. Two; Gabriel could talk for a millenia if he was given the opportunity. And three; (Y/N) felt oddly calm around Gabriel. It hadn’t even struck him how easily Gabriel was able to shift the conversation as smoothly as he did. (Y/N) wasn’t too sure how he could feel that way around him. As they sat there and talked, after everything that was said, and after everything that happened with the warehouse incident - he’ll never forget the nutcracker - he couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of comfort around him. There was something about Gabriel that filled (Y/N) with a sense of peace and belonging, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as to why that was.

It wasn’t like he was complaining, though.

They talked until the moon sat near the far end of the sky. Unbeknownst to them, the two had begun to scoot closer to one another as the conversation continued, getting to the point where their knees and shoulders were touching. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Neither of them pulled away out of instinct. It felt right. It felt natural.

Gabriel droned on and on about, yet, another story when Lucifer was a young angel. He seemed to have more stories about him than he did of Michael. (Y/N) was quite the opposite. He had more stories about Dean than he did with Sam. Both of them laughed as Gabriel tried his best to continue.

“So - so Dad got angry because Lucifer kept letting the bugs out of their sanctuary, and -” Gabriel looked over at (Y/N), and his smile vanished.

(Y/N) glanced up at him, noticing the change of demeanor instantly. His smile, too, disappeared. “Is something wrong?”

As he kept his eye on him, Gabriel reached up and gently brushed his thumb against (Y/N)’s bottom lip. (Y/N) felt his cheeks heat up and his brows furrow in confusion.

“Your lips are blue,” Gabriel stated. He glanced up at the sky and his brows shot up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize we had been out here so long.” Gabriel sat up.

“How long how we been out here?” (Y/N) dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

3:27 AM

“Oh shit,” he mumbled as he quickly stood up.

His legs and ass were completely numb, causing him to sway at the rapid movement. Gabriel was by his side in an instant, hands on his shoulders to steady him. They had been out together for, close to, four hours. No wonder (Y/N)’s lips were blue. He shivered, teeth chattering lightly. Once (Y/N) was able to stand on his own, Gabriel took off his jacket and draped it over (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N) shook his head.

“Oh, no, Gabriel, it’s okay. I just need to get back to the motel.” He stuttered tiredly.

“I’m the reason you were out here for so long. Consider it a, um, token of my appreciation for talking to me,” Gabriel smiled sweetly.

(Y/N) returned the smile. “Well, thank you for keeping me company.”

“Let me take you back to the motel.”

“No. If Sam and Dean see you, they’ll kill you and then me.”

“Then I won’t let them see me.”

Without another word, Gabriel reached up and pressed his index and middle fingers against (Y/N)’s forehead. (Y/N) inhaled shakily and closed his eyes. One second, he was standing in the park, then, the next, he and Gabriel were standing in front of the Winchester’s motel room. He breathed a sigh of relief once he saw the faded numbers etched onto the door.

“Thank you,” he smiled and retrieved the key from his pocket.

“Anytime. And, uh, if you ever feel the need to talk again under better weather conditions, feel free to pray. When the prayers are sent directly to me, it’s a lot easier for me to hear.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now go warm up.”

(Y/N) flashed Gabriel one last smile as he turned the key to the room and opened the door. Gabriel vanished.

Moonlight pooled in through the cracked door as (Y/N) crept into the room. He felt the warmth flood his face and hands as he entered. Despite the heavy jacket he had gone out with, having spent hours in the windy, misty park, he was bound to get cold eventually. He didn’t think he would get that cold, though.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Sam sleeping soundly on his stomach, face nuzzled against the cheap pillow, and Dean sprawled out on the couch, legs and arms spread in uncomfortable positions that he would undoubtedly complain about the next day, mouth slightly open, and drool coating his chin and pillow. (Y/N) was thankful for his stealth ability.

Slowly, he made his way over to the unoccupied bed and crawled underneath the covers. Not bothering to change his clothes or take off his shoes, he nestled into the thick - yet somehow extremely thin - comforter. His eyes closed as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*~*

That was the best night’s sleep he had gotten in ages.

Well, it would have been, had he not been awoken by a flying pillow to the face.

(Y/N) groaned as he opened his eyes ever so slightly. The sunlight beamed in through the window, caressing his skin, and he hated it. He glanced tiredly in the direction that the pillow came from and found Dean with an amused grin spread across his lips.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean greeted.

“Fuck off,” (Y/N) grunted as he grabbed the pillow and chucked it lazily back at him. He missed terribly.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Sam teased as he sat a cup of steaming coffee on the nightstand next to (Y/N).

“Thanks,” he mumbled and sat up. “And I just got a pillow thrown at my face, am I supposed to jump for joy and sing Kumbaya?”

“Are you sure it’s the pillow and has nothing to do with you getting back so late?” Dean quirked a brow.

(Y/N) went to reach for the coffee cup, but stopped himself. He glanced at Dean, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“Well, one, you’re wearing the exact same thing you were wearing yesterday, plus you wore your shoes to bed. Two, I heard you getting back last night,”

“Bullshit. You were passed out.”

“Do you realize how loud you stumbled in? I’m surprised Sammy didn’t wake up because of it. My third point, though,” Dean pointed down to his brother’s chest. “That’s not your jacket. So…did you get lucky?”

(Y/N) looked down at himself and his brows raised. He was still wearing Gabriel’s jacket. He had been so tired and cold last night that he had completely forgotten to take it off or even give it back. He reached up and played with the collar gently. He had to remember to thank Gabriel for giving it to him.

Oh, wait, prayers! Thank you for the jacket, Gabriel!

“Well?” Dean pressed.

“Huh?” (Y/N) looked over at him.

“Did you get lucky?”

(Y/N) snorted. “If I got lucky, do you think I would be here right now?”

“Not unless it was bad.”

“Would that mean I still got ‘lucky’ if it was bad? What kind of luck is that?”

“You’re dodging the question.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “No, Dean, I didn’t get lucky.”

“Then who’d you meet?” Sam asked.

“Why does it matter?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Because you’re smiling,” Dean pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. “And you don’t smile like that normally. It’s kind of freaky.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dean,”

(Y/N) hadn’t even realized he had been smiling, but he could hear it in his voice. Dean was right, it had been ages since he had smiled like that. His cheeks were starting to hurt. He reached over, took a sip of his coffee, then put it down. He stood up from his spot on the bed and stretched his aching muscles.

“So,” Dean pursed his lips. “Who was it?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you, Dean?”

“Nope,” Dean popped.

(Y/N) shook his head. “It was just this guy that I met at the bar. He bought me a drink, we sat and talked and, when the bar closed, we went to the nearest park and continued our talk.”

Dean’s smirk faltered and was replaced with a frown. “That’s it? You just…talked?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged.

“You’re more boring than Sam,”

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed.

“What do you want me to say, Dean? ‘I found this guy at the bar, we went to the park, I gave him head, he gave me a twenty, said ‘no homo’, and walked away’?” (Y/N) asked.

“Well, that would have been a hell of a lot more entertaining than ‘we just talked’.”

(Y/N) waved him off. “Whatever,” he mumbled, then kicked his shoes off.

Sam took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. We’re gonna go look for that Wendigo.”

“I’m taking a shower before we go, so…” (Y/N) stuck his tongue out at Sam.

Sam smirked and shook his head as (Y/N) gathered some of his clothes from his duffel bag. Without another word, he vanished into the bathroom.

*~*

(Y/N) was sick for a week after that. As it turns out, cold air and wet hair don’t necessarily mix well. At first, he tried to push through it, but fatigue and a sore throat caught up to him and left him on research duty for the duration of the Wendigo hunt. During that time, whenever Sam and Dean were out looking for clues, leaving him alone in the stuffy motel room, he would pray to Gabriel. Gabriel would be quick to respond.

The two would sit and talk for hours, idle chit-chat here and there, and would always seem to dance around the topic of the fight one way or another. Those talks continued well after (Y/N) felt better and the Wendigo hunt concluded. (Y/N) resumed his nightly walks, and Gabriel would accompany him. In the mornings, when Sam and Dean would occasionally catch onto (Y/N)’s disappearing acts, he would play it off as a spontaneous trip to the local bar scene, fabricating stories about meeting a dreamy man he would talk to or go back to his place. It wasn’t a complete lie, so he didn’t feel as bad when he told them.

As the months went on, (Y/N) could feel himself growing fonder of Gabriel. It was a strong feeling. Is that what love felt like? He could only assume. Yet, the feeling was more than that. He felt connected to him in a much stronger sense of the word. A spiritual sense, perhaps? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause of those feelings, but the last thing he was going to do was fight himself on them, despite how obvious it was that his brothers would disapprove of his relationship with Gabriel. That’s what secrets were for. He had gone long enough without telling them, what’s a couple more months or years?

Whenever they were together, (Y/N) felt whole, as if a lost piece of a puzzle he didn’t even know he had found its way to him. When he was with his brothers, or by himself, he found his mind constantly shifting to thoughts of Gabriel. Of what they would talk about, of Gabriel’s smile, of the way his stomach would turn whenever they stood or sat close to one another. He would crave his presence, desperate to hear the sound of his voice. It was killing him, slowly, from the inside out, and he knew if he didn’t say anything soon, he would combust. He had to tell Gabriel his feelings.

One thing he loved about small towns was the lack of artificial lights. Sure, there were dull street lamps scattered around that looked as if they needed to be changed years ago, but the absence of skyscrapers and people, overall, meant not much was needed to illuminate the roads. Locals knew them like the back of their hand anyway. With the minimal light, almost anywhere in town, you could see the stars that decorated the night sky. If you wanted, you could pick out each constellation. Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper were rather prominent that night.

There were several smaller parks in town, but the biggest sat in the middle of downtown. It wasn’t used as a children’s area as much as a casual gathering ground. (Y/N) could imagine dogs in the grass and elderly couples walking arm-in-arm during the daylight hours. By night, it was abandoned, the distant sound of country music playing from the only local bar. It was the perfect place for him and Gabriel to meet.

They sat on a bench in the middle of the park, heads tilted back as they stared at the stars. Their sides and legs were pressed together, and, for the first time in a while, they said nothing. Normally, their meetings were filled with lively conversation from the moment they saw each other to the moment they parted. (Y/N) had to wonder if Gabriel could tell that he wanted to have a serious discussion. Perhaps he had a lot on his mind. Or, perhaps, Gabriel was too busy reading (Y/N)’s to say anything. Regardless, they had been sat there for close to half an hour without as much as a single word to each other. (Y/N) knew just sitting there wasn’t going to do any good. He had to bite the bullet and say something.

“Gabriel?” He started, his voice coming out small and quiet.

Gabriel hummed. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Well, first of all, I just wanted to say that I like spending time with you.” He began to fiddle with his fingers. “And I don’t want what I’m about to ask to make our meetings stop.”

“Honestly, I think, at this point, the only thing that you can ask to make our meetings stop is ‘Hey, can our meetings stop?’.”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly. “Gabe, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he smirked.

“Well, um…” he paused. “Do you ever feel like we’re connected in other ways?”

Gabriel furrowed his brows. He turned his body to face (Y/N), rested his elbow on the back of the bench, and placed his cheek into his hand. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, it feels like…more.”

Gabriel studied (Y/N)’s face, noticing his lack of eye contact. He stayed quiet for a moment, and (Y/N) could feel the anxiety building inside of him. He knew he did a piss poor job at explaining what he meant, but it was the best he could come up with. Slowly, Gabriel smirked.

“You have a crush on me, don’t you?” He teased.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and the heat rose to his cheeks. He glanced over at Gabriel, then back down at his lap.

“I, well…I’m not…I- that’s not the point, okay!?” (Y/N) shook his head. “The point is that it doesn’t feel like just a crush to me. It feels like an even deeper connection than that. Like something about our souls and- nevermind, this just sounds stupid,” his shoulders deflated in defeat.

Gabriel waved his hands and shook his head. “Hey, hey, it’s not stupid, alright? I get what you’re saying. You feel as if we’re connected by something other than you just being my vessel.”

(Y/N) nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I feel it, too.”

“You do?”

“I mean, yeah,” Gabriel folded his hands in his lap. “I felt that when we first saw each other, even before the warehouse. Then, everything with your brothers happened, and we met again, and, still, I felt that connection.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought I was looking too hard into it. I started thinking that, maybe, the connection was all in my head. That it was, truly, just our connection by you being my vessel. When Dean said what he did about me being too afraid to face my family, I thought no one would understand my point of view on the fight. What I’ve had to go through being related to Michael and Lucifer. Then, you started to pray to me, and I knew that you understood me. That’s what made me come find you in the first place. Once we were alone, I felt this sense of…peace. I hate to admit it, but I feel like I can barely go a single day without wanting to see you. Without needing to see you. I knew it was more at that point.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were on Gabriel as he listened intently to what he was saying. He shook his head. “I feel the same way. It’s almost as if, I don’t know, I can’t breathe when you’re not around.”

“Well, please don’t stop on my account.”

“Stop it, we’re having a serious moment,” (Y/N) slapped his arm.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gabriel smirked. “I mean, as cliche as it sounds, it feels, almost as if we were meant for each other, right? Like we were meant to be together? Almost as if it was more than you being my vessel that bought us together.”

Gabriel reached over and grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, rubbing the side of it gently with his thumb. (Y/N) looked into Gabriel’s eyes, and he felt his heart soar. He reached up and caressed his cheek before they both leaned in, their lips fitting together perfectly in a sweet, loving kiss. Their eyes closed, and they both melted into a deep, sensual embrace. Almost immediately, all of the stress and worry seemingly melted away, replaced with a sense of belonging. A sense of closeness.

When they pulled back, they looked into each other’s eyes once more. A small smile creased the corner of (Y/N)’s lips.

“You’re right, it is pretty cheesy.” He whispered, his thumb tracing circles around Gabriel’s cheekbone.

Gabriel cocked a brow. “I thought we were having a serious conversation. Why do you get to make quips?”

“It’s kind of hard not to when I’m around you.” (Y/N) pressed his forehead against Gabriel’s.

Gabriel chuckled. “I guess I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I?” He moved his hands to (Y/N)’s hips.

“I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

They sat together and enjoyed the peaceful quiet of their embrace. (Y/N) never felt more relaxed in his entire life, and he wanted to savor every moment he had with Gabriel.

Then, his mind started to drift. Drift to the fight, the battle between Michael and Lucifer, and to Sam and Dean. Gabriel had done such a good job at keeping him distracted from all the chaos that surrounded him that he hadn’t even had a chance to consider what could happen with the fight now that he and Gabriel were involved. Neither of them wanted to participate in the fight, but what would happen if they didn’t? Who would win? Would he lose one, or possibly both, of his brothers? If they did get involved in the fight, was there a possibility that he and Gabriel would lose each other? Did they even stand a chance to win against Michael and Lucifer if things were to turn ugly? Was there a chance that he could lose Gabriel even without being in the fight itself?

Gabriel reached a hand up and ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair soothingly. He pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips. “Your thoughts are being really loud, Sugarplum.” He whispered.

(Y/N) broke from his trance and shook his head lightly. “I’m sorry, it’s just…with the fight,” (Y/N) looked away briefly. “I don’t want to lose Sam and Dean, but now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you either.”

Gabriel gave him a sympathetic look as he pulled him close. “I know. This whole thing is one giant mess. I wish none of it had to happen. But I’m going to be with you every step of the way, I promise.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “You can’t promise me that. Knock on wood.”

“What?” Gabriel chuckled.

“I don’t want you to have just jinxed yourself, now knock on wood.”

Gabriel smirked as he rasped his knuckles against the wooden bench three times. “Better?”

“A little,” (Y/N) mumbled and nuzzled his cheek against Gabriel’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll feel better until this fight is over.”

Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around him. “How about this? I promise to do everything in my power to keep you distracted. That way, you’re not too stressed out.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Not too distracted, though. I had practically forgotten about the fight until now, and I still need to stay on my toes.”

“How about I distract you just enough to keep your mind off of it?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Well then, Sugarplum, how do you propose I keep you distracted?”

“You can start by kissing me again,”

“Oh, I can do more than kissing,” Gabriel mused in a suggestive tone and wiggled his brows.

(Y/N) slapped his chest. “Perv,” he grumbled. “Let’s just start with kissing.”

“Taking it slow, I like your style,” Gabriel nuzzled his nose against (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) smiled widely. “Then shut up and kiss me already.”

Without another word, Gabriel leaned down, capturing (Y/N)’s lips in a deep kiss. Just like that, all of his problems dissipated, and it felt as if he was floating. The park didn’t exist anymore, nor the stumbling locals who left the bar periodically. There were no stars, no more beautiful night sky. The only two things that existed were Gabriel and (Y/N). They were complete. They were strong. They were one. It felt as if nothing in Heaven, Hell, or in between could tear them apart.

And everything was as it should be.

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