Antici… pation…

im tired of this sickness called 'i dont know how to art very well but i still want to share my headcanons' so im overcoming it by,,, just sharing my headcanons via writing,,,,,

So yeah the demon brothers are too bishonen for me so here's a kinda monsterf*cker rendition of them. Im also a horror fan so i wanted to make em scary hee hee

Lucifer

At first sight, he has a crown of sorts, made from black glass, protruding from his head, where cherry red blood is always dripping, the wound never closing down

When you get a little closer though, you figure out that the sharp shards of glass have a slight round edge to the ends, it's his halo, he tells you one day, when he fell it broke in pieces and stuck to his head. He could've easily taken it out, but he decided against it, this was who he was now, and he wanted everyone to know. His brothers couldnt look at his face for weeks, too shaken up by the gory display on his head, but they got used to it over the years.

The most human looking out of his brothers, except for the wounds and scars of course. Silently wonders if his curse is to be permanently reminded of the creature he used to be, and the fact that he will never quite look like he belongs in the devildom.

His demon form is something else entirely, gone is the charming gentleman with salt and pepper hair and blood dripping down the side of his face, replaced by something much, much more incomprehensive

Think of a biblically accurate angel mixed w a lovecraftian monster, big and impressive and quite honestly, terrifying

Thought very long and hard abt how to incorporate the peacock aspects in his design but i didnt come up w anything besides his clothes lmaooo

I thought of a lot of renassaince depictions of lucifer, always the most beautiful angel, even as he falls, so i think it makes sense that he's the most human looking and tries to resemble a demon as much as he can, he Is in a position of power after all, he needs all the respect he can get.

Mammon

i KNOW mammon is supposed to be a crow, but his demon form resembles a dragon too much for me to think of him as anything else

Sharp, SHARP teeth, but next to Levi he looks like the nicest dog in the block

His ears are also sharp, almost everything about him is sharp (his nails are also sharp 😰 but he clips them dont worry 😚)

His sclera is yellow and his pupils are slit-like, he never really liked his eyes so he uses his tinted yellow sunglasses to kinda, play it off. Since they're tinted it looks like his sclera is just white hehe

Can't breathe fire but he does blow steam from his mouth, so, uh, careful if you get him too angry or too... excited?

These are just assorted headcanons but mammon has a lot of piercings, especially on his ears (they're pretty long so he has space to spare), i also see him having snake bites below his mouth he just looks really good with those

He has a smaller scar on his right eyebrow from the war, he does like the look though, makes him look 'tough' in his words

His hair is super fluffy though, no one knows how

He fits th dragon fursona (lol) bc dragons are stereotypically associated with gold, and idk i think hes just cool. I would have made him a bird boy but dragon mammon was calling to me

Leviathan

Has a lot of hidden surprises, at first sight he's just an incel with a serpent tail and even that is hidden from plain sight.

As he starts getting more comfortable around you you see him talk more and you notice stuff about his mouth. Namely, his forked tongue, his full set of extremely sharp, shark-like teeth, and, you know, the fact that he has at least fifty something in there

Due to this his mouth is wider and bigger so he's not very fond of smiling for pictures or just laughing in public in general :(

Has fins instead of ears but most of the time theyre covered up by his mullet. Also has gills

Has several scales/markings on his body that glow in the dark, this is based on some deep sea fish that need to have these type of things to survive on the depths! He has some on his forehead and thats another reason he has longer hair lol

Yeah his d*cks glow too im sorry

Cuter headcanon but he likes being in his room with no lights on bc of this, he's his own gamer lights

Also has slit pupils and blinks vertically. Actually thinks this one is cool because he freaks mammon out when he blinks

He can stay very, very still for a moment and then move extremely fast. He usually does this to scare you but also just does it in general

It's worse in the water. He is literally made to be in it, so just pray he never plays marco polo with you.

His tail is out 24/7 but he usually curls it up on his torso or his leg when he's out in public, has a lot of scales leading up to it along his back

His form is pretty high maintenance, his skin gets dry quickly and his tail sheds once a month and he has way more teeth he needs to wash and its not fair-

Spent a century in the sea so when he finally reunited with his brothers and finally saw what he looked like he just kinda freaked out about his appeareance and never got used to it, he feels like a monster.

General headcanon but levi is chubby and you can pry this one out of my cold dead hands

He's a gamer boy (tm) and a literal shut in and also he needs it to survive colder temperatures in water so yeah levi is chubby he told me himself

Satan

The least human looking brother, since he was born from Lucifer's pure hatred, he is the closest thing resembling a demon

He has black ram horns and a segmented, bone like tail out at all times.

His eyes resemble goat eyes and theyre bright green, very noticeable

HAS NO NOSE, he just has that upside down heart thing like a skull. Hes real life sans (jk)

The tips of his fingers are black, mammon teases him and asks him if he enjoyed erasing the board with his fingers lol

When he takes out his shirt, you can see his ribs, and not in a 'skinny' type of way, you can literally see his ribs like his torso is a damn xray, thankfully he becomes more corporeal as you go down so you dont see a lot of organs but its still freaky

Mammon is sharp but satan is boney AND sharp, he's scary ngl

Has satyr legs. Like straight up those goat like mfs with hooves and everything, not gonna lie he pulls them off.

He's scary which is so much more jarring when you realize that he's the more civilized brother next to his siblings

Asmodeus

When you see him the first time you think he's a human. But when you get closer you immediately figure out that something is wrong.

You dont know what it is though, he doesnt have bleeding wounds like Luci, or yellow eyes like Mammon, or shark teeth like Levi, so what's up?

As you start to interact with him more you notice certain things, like the way his whole body seems to tremble when it's getting late, or how he seems like a blur when he moves too quick, or how his height changes nearly everyday

Asmo shapeshifts, it's one of the reasons he's so popular, he's very confident in all of his forms and likes to experiment with them, but his favorite is the one he uses most often, the strawberry blonde with the dreamy eyes. The way he looked back at the heavenly realm

It isnt a perfect form though, none of them are, all of them are too perfect to resemble a human, think of the uncanny valley when you imagine them. Like a living doll or some kind of android, its popular in the devildom but you dont quite get it.

It does however take a lot from him, he NEEDS his beauty sleep at the end of the day, maintaning a form throught the whole day is exhausting

In reality, he's quite literally a shapeless mass. A pink blob that sometimes tries to shape itself into its old form, but never finishes materalizing. He can keep a basic human silhouette in this form but dont expect a lot of details except for his eyes, which are unchangeable.

If you get to see him in this state then consider yourself someone he trusts, not everyone is allowed to see behind all the glam and glitz

Beelzebub

Looks like a rotting corpse, a chunk of his cheek is missing so you can see his teeth and constantly has bugs surrounding him

Normally it's flies but once in a while he finds a maggot somewhere and you almost faint

Has lots of bandages covering his body because his skin is very prone to opening up

It doesn't hurt him or faze him but it heals very slowly and it is annoying, especially when he works out

He doesn't smell as bad as he looks though, it's mostly cosmetic.

His wings are always out, the other brothers have to go on demon form to use them (if they even have them lmao, levi is still salty about that)

One of his eyes is like a fly's eye. Its completely orange and segmented, idk if im explaining myself well but u get it

His hands are sticky, kinda like spiderman, he didnt know how to control them very well at the beggining but now he's a pro. His hand does stick to your hair exactly one (1) time and he feels terrible afterwards

Think of cronenberg's The Fly for his demon form, full body horror

Belphegor

cow boy 🙄

Youre not as taken aback when you meet him because he just looks like a furry, his lil nose, his cow ears, his tail.

Honestly looks more cute than scary but he doesnt need to look scary to be so

Is impossibly strong, so when he chokes you you put up little fight, you're literally helpless

The heavy eyebags, the sickly paleness of his skin, his dilated pupils and bloodshot eyes. No matter how much he sleeps, he still looks on the brink of fainting

Has a lot of memory problems, especially short term, so dont get offended if he forgets something you told him lol

Looks generally unkept but thats more on him than anything lol. He really does appreciate when someone forces him to take care of his appearence so, be on the lookout for that

His changes are more apparent on his demeanor rather than his physique, but no one really knows how much is just his sin taking over and how much are his regret and bitterness talking.

Also no, you cant milk him.

Brothers React To MC Grabbing Their Butt: Luci, Mammon, Levi

I’ve had to write this 2 times now. If Tumblr deletes this post, I will be fighting someone. 

TW: Drunk character, use of phrase KMS

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Lucifer

You just left your room to go down to the kitchen for some quick snack when you bumped into Lucifer. He gave you a nod which you return with a simple wave.

You were about to continue walking when a something white on the back of Lucifer’s coat. You glanced at it and saw it was a sheet of paper. “Lucifer has a flat ass  -Mammon”.

That was not Mammon’s handwriting. You recognized it as Levi’s since he always left notes in the manga you borrowed. He must be trying to get revenge on him. 

But, will you let your first man get hung up. He did buy you your favorite treat yesterday, even if he denied it. 

Turning around, you tiptoed behind Lucifer while you gained distanced on him. Your hand reached out towards the paper. 

“MC, why are you-”

Why was a slice of Lucifer’s cake in your hand? You froze up as you realized the situation you were in. 

You just groped one of the strongest demons in hell. Dear Diavolo, please make sure my funeral is fun. 

“MC?” You didn’t have the strength in you to look into Lucifer’s face. You weren’t ready to face death. No matter how thick he was.

“MC.” You knew that tone. He was getting angry. You should really let of his cheek, but you so overcome with fear that you can’t move. 

A blink of an eye. That’s all it took for you to have you back against the wall with Lucifer’s arm trapping you. Heat seems to be radiating off of him in thick rolls.

“MC, look at me,” he growled out. Your eyes briefly flickered up before dropping down once you saw that fire in his eye. 

A gloved hand traveled from the base of your neck up to your chin where it gripped it tightly before tilting your head up. You were met with the sight of Lucifer’s smirking with his red eyes slanted in mischievous.

“Looks like someone’s being disobedient. I want you in my room by the time I return to it. You better be ready to be punish.”

With that, he let go of your chin and walked away. The sign balled in your fist seem to go unnoticed by him. 

“Got in trouble for this dang lie,” you growled out, throwing the paper in the wastebin. Even if you tried to act disgruntled about what happen, the butterflies in your stomach on what was about to happen told a completely different story. 

Mammon

It was a complete accident. Mammon was out most of the night drinking and stumbled into your room about 3 am asking you to hide him.

You got out of bed and helped him sit down on it. His clothes were strewed haphazardly on him. Guess someone had a good time. 

“MC, MC, MC, MC,” he whined while kicking his feet around. He was making so much noise that it would be so easy for Lucifer to know he was here. 

“What?” You asked in a quiet voice. He stopped calling your name and instead held his arms out and made grabby motions towards you. 

“You haven’t talked to me in foreverrrrrrrrr.” You literally talked to him at school. He’s the one who’s been gone most of the night. 

You made your way over to stare at him. His brown skin had a heavier red tint underneath it with his bluish yellow eyes glazed over. He really got wasted tonight. 

Mammon lean up a little and wrapped his arms around you. Yanking you down the bed next to him, he cuddled into you. “Wvndoisnvf”

“What?” you asked, leaning away from him. He made a low groan in the base of his throat before pulling you down into him. 

“Warm. You’re warm... but I’m hot... too much clothes,” he slurred. You navigated your head so you could get a view of him. He was staring at the wall behind.Then like a light bulb going off, his eyes widen. “I can- I can teleport to my room. And change... Be right back.”

He unwrapped his arms from around you and started rolling off the bed. The dumb idiot.

Shooting up, you grabbed whatever you could get your hands on. Which was his upper back.... and an entire handful of his butt.

“Mammon, you can’t teleport,” you growled out. You pulled at him to try to get him to get more into the bed. He was literally on the edge of the bed, tilting. If he fell on the floor, it would definitely make enough noise to wake up Lucifer. 

“Mmm, harder,” he grumbled. Remember, MC, he’s drunk He doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“Mammon, if you don’t get in the bed, I won’t cuddle you,” you threaten. He let out a small whine, but he scooted into the bed. Relief filled you as you released your grip on him. Now, you can go to sleep. 

Mammon’s arms found their way around you and pulled you down again. You didn’t fight against him or the warmth he provided. 

“Wait,” he mumbled. His hand wrapped around yours and pulled at it. You allowed him to move it lower. He placed it on top of his butt and released your hand. 

You were too tired to question him. So you fell asleep with one arm wrapped around him and the other on top of his butt. 

Leviathan

“Hey, Levi, I was wondering if I could-” 

Your words died in your throat as you stared at the scene in front of you. You knew you should’ve knocked, but you didn’t think it was a big deal. Boy were you wrong. 

In the middle of his room, in a pink and white maid costume was Levi. His hands were froze in the midst of pulling up some tight pink stockings. 

“I can- um- Are you busy?”You didn’t know where to look at him. You tried to look at his face, but the pink eyeliner was causing you to stare. His neck was a no go with the bell choker on it. 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” You jumped at the ear piercing screaming coming out of him. His face was the deepest shade of red you have ever seen it get. 

“Levi?” a voice downstairs called out. Followed by the sound of footsteps. 

“Sorry, scared him. Everything’s fine,” you yelled out. Yet the footsteps kept coming. In a fit of panic, you entered the room and shut the door. You were quick to lock the door behind you.

“OMG OMG OMG OMG KMS KMS I’m such a disgusting otaku,” he cried sinking to the floor. His hands covered his face as he started crying. 

“No, Levi, sweetie. You look amazing,” You comforted walking over. He let out a small sniffle, but seem to be slowing on crying. “Is that the limited edition Ruri- chan maid outfit you were telling me about last time?”

His head lifted up with a giant smile on his face. His nose was a little red from crying, but it blended in with the blush on his cheeks. 

“You- you remembered,” he croaked out while wiping the tears. He pulled his legs together and rested his chin on it, allowing you to see his entire beautiful face. “I got it in the mail today. And I was just going to put it on the mannequin and take some pictures. But-”

He trailed off for a little as the blush returned again. He let out a groan. His head dropped in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door. You probably think I’m some gross otaku who like to dress up in maid costumes all the time.”

“I mean, you look hot while doing it, so I don’t see a problem with it,” you admitted, glancing at his figure. He was a little muscular, but his shape seem to accentuate the outfit in the best ways. 

“Hey, is everything okay in there?” Lucifer’s voice rang through the door. You glanced at Levi to see his face still red and his pink gloved hand gripping the sides of the costume. 

“I locked the door. Don’t worry, he can’t come in,” you whispered. Trying to comfort him some more, you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. MC scared me while.. I was playing a game. Sorry for screaming,” Levi mustered out. Lucifer let out a long sigh before his footsteps disappeared. 

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Levi visabily relaxed too. 

“Sorry for bargaining in. I was trying to asking to borrow a new manga,” you explained. Levi let out a cough as he stood up. Your head lifted up as he grew in height. 

“Sorry for showing you this gross side to me,” he grumbled, pulling the bottom of the skirt down. Guess it wasn’t made wit hhis long legs in mind. It showed so much legs. Not that you were complaining. 

“You’re just cosplaying, nothing wrong with it. Plus as I mentioned earlier, you look hot af in the maid outfit. I mean damn,” you growled the last word. A dark red blush exploded over his face as a low whimper slipped out of him. 

“Well, if you like it. Would you mind-um- roleplaying a little.” 

You took a step forward and wrapped your arms his waist. You looked up at him with a innocent smile, but in each hand was a butt cheek. “Serve your master, Levi.”

I apologize for stopping here, but Tumblr just didn’t seem to like this curse post and I’m so tired that I can’t force myself to write the other brothers only to delete it again. I do plan on doing the other 4 brothers.

NSFW with wolf Luci, based on paws and claws event! Pretty pleeeeaase??

Request: NSFW shortstory with wolf Lucifer, based on the paws and claws event!🐺🔞

You were the centre of the whole attention. Every single one of the demon brothers wanted to spend time with you, the primal insitincts kicking in harshly. At first it was pretty fun. But now: hours later and with the night approaching like a dark horse, it was just nerve-racking. Mammon was constantly fighting with Satan and Levi was still upset that he was the only herbivore of the group. Asmodeus wouldn't stop taking pictures with you because he wanted fo show the world how cute you both looked. Beelzebub went on a new search for more food and Belphegor...well he was trying to conivince you to take a nap on his new fluffy foxtail. You were just going to say something but in that second Lucifer stepped in. "Enough!" His wolfish ears twitched and his long grey tail brushed over your cheek. "Can't you all see that MC is getting tired of all your constant babbling and chaotic nature? It's enough now!"

Your fingers brushed over the spot where Lucifer's tail touched it. It felt stangely warm... But before you were able to examine this further, Lucifer pulled you up to your feet. "We'll get you to safety! No more brawling and fighting! It's time for you to get some proper rest." And with this words he dragged you out of the living room.

Lucifer pushed you softly inside his room and the loud noises from the others died down immediately. It was dark and the room smelled like fresh oak, earl grey tea and a hint of nostalgia. "I knew this would end in a disaster but now they're just exaggerating." The avatar of pride huffed and flexed his shoulders. "Aren't you effected too?", you asked softly and sat down on the bed. You had noticed that he was quiet touchy through the whole day ever since he was influenced with the strange potion. "I've got enough pride and self control to keep up my good reputation." You didn't notice that he had started to circle you slowly because the darkness swallowed his tall frame. "But I have to admit.-" Suddenly his dark, velvet voice was very close to your ear. "-that I'm kind of tired of pulling myself together. Especially when my 'beloved' brothers are not around..." The last word wasn't much more as a heavy hum. Unexpectedly you felt something rough and wet pressed against the crook of your neck. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when Lucifers tongue travled upwards and left hot saliva on your sensitive skin. He could feel your heart pumping your blood rapidly through your body when the tip of his tongue traced over your carotid artery. A shaky moan left your lips. That was one of your special spots...

Lucifer chuckled deeply and his sharp teeth bit down softly. Your thin skin was nearly tearing and he could taste your rapid heartbeat. "Someones rather excited, aren't we?" He laughed and nibbled at your earlobe. His hot breath made you quiver in anticipation and you could do nothing else but to press your thighs together to gain a little friction. "Lucifer-"

"Yes, MC?" You could feel him smirk against your neck. "W-what are you doing to me?" The demon laughed and it sounded like distant thunder rolling over a sharp-edged mountain. "I'll show you the art of mating, MC..." Your breath hitched in your throat while your heartbeat thumbed louder. Clearly you misunterstood him-there was now way-

But all your dubts got swept away when his claws wandered over your thighs. You got ghoose bumps and shivered. Lucifer kneeled down between your legs and sniffed slightly. The rim of your skirt shielded your underwear from his predatory eyes but you couldn't help but notice the growing wet patch on the soft fabric. "You know-ever since I turned into some kind of wolf- some of my senses seem way more sharper now." He grinned diabolicaly and ripped your skirt of in a swift motion. "I can hear your quickend heartbeat, I sense your arousal and feelings even better...but I can also smell that your more than ready for me to claim you as mine." He pushed your legs apart and his crimson red glowing eyes focused on the damp growing spot on your panties.

The blood rushed on your cheeks and made you blush like hell. Lucifer snickered and rubbed the tip of his nose against your clothed clit. You bit your lip at the sensual friction and had to hold back a moan. "Don't fight it, MC. You smell delicious...give in..."

That's when his rough tongue swipes over the thin fabric of your panties. The material is soaked within seconds by your sticky juices and his warm saliva. His hot breath tickled your skin and you could feel the heat that radiated of his muscular strong body. Lucifer grabed the rim of your panties and riped them in a half. "You won't need them anymore-"

Without hestiation his rough tongue swiped heavily over your exposed sex, leaving sticky stripes of saliva all over you sensitive nerves. The normally very patient demon wasted no time and moved his tongue skillfully and full of hunger. His hands grabbed your trembling legs and held them in place. He didn't want to waste a single drop of your delicious liquids. It was insane how his magnificent mouth toyed with you in all the right ways. When his tongue entered you, you already were a squirming mess. "Lucifer please--I can't anymore--"

You lost it again when his tongue twirled and twisted perfectly inside you and reached all the sensitive spots. Your muscles started twitching and pulled together in excitement, you could feel your orgasm building faster. But that was the same moment when Lucifer parted his lips from your sex with a slurping sound. His whole mouth was covered in your juices and he still had the audacity to grin at you like a wolf at its prey.

You wailed desperately. "I need it-" The avatar of pride beamed with self confidence and got up on his feet. "Beg. Beg like you really mean it, MC." He whiped the stray strands of his black hair out of his face and massaged his throbbing erection through the wrinkled fabric of his pants. He really wanted to feel your thight walls clenched around him and experience the feeling of pumping his thick length in and out in a steady rythm. Just the mere thought of it drove him wild and without hestiation he opend his belt-followed by the zipper and button of his pants.

It nearly took your breath away when you first laid eyes on his twitching dick. The tip was swollen and red and already leaked with some glistening precum. It didn't take him long to push the tip against your wet folds and rub it up and down which caused him to moan up. The sound send shivers down your spine and you could feel the knot inside your lower body thightening. "Please-" you whimpered. "Please fuck me already, Lucifer I need you-"

The powerful demon growled darkly and did not hestiate to follow this plea of yours. He pushed your legs more apart before he slowly started to enter his thick length inside of you. First it was just the swollen tip but it was soon followed by the rest of his pulsing cock. You threw your head back and Lucifer moaned in pleasure. He started thrusting deep inside you right away and as he angled himself it made you see stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled Lucifer's dim room, mixed with his heavy breathing and your constant mewling.

He was towering above you like a skyscraper, his thrusts making you sing a lewd melody. Your interaction echoed through the hallway and his low pants next to your ear nearly send you over the edge. The tip of his member swept over your G-spot repeatingly and this made your walls quiver in excitement. Lucifers claws were digging into the soft flesh of your hips and it would surely leave a bruise. You could feel his bumps getting erractic and faster which announced that he was just as close as you. Your name left his lips like a sinful prayer over and over again.

"MC-"

"Lucifer--"

Then it wrecked both of you. He bit down into the crook of your neck and his sharp teeth drawed a little bit of blood, while his cock released long spurts of thick, white cum inside your womb. You couldn't stop yourself from screaming his name when your walls clenched around his member and milked every single drop of cum from him.

While relaxing in the warm hug of your afterglow you could feel him peppering soft kisses all over your neck and throat. He gently licked over the biting mark. "You did so well, little one...", he whispered, a low rumble emerging from his chest.

(I hope you guys like it😅❤)

Hi!!! I got some characters and numbers for the thingy, only if you want to do them of course!!! 15 + Lucifer, 17 + Mammon, 4 & 5 + Satan! Dhsbsjshsbshsb hopefully that's not too many! Have a great day ur amazing <3 !

thank you so much for the prompts !! and honestly i enjoy writing these so much, im just sorry its late [this week is so busy but writing these is such a good stress reliever tbh LOL] and ahh tysm i hope you have an amazing day too!! #^-^#

lucifer + 15: what it takes to make them cry

so i already answered this one here but i'll take this in a different direction - this is more so just spitballing ideas but imagine late at night lucifer- super tired, decaffeinated, literally zombified- he’s walking down the stairs and misses a step and tumbles down. he lands face up and sees mc who’s peering into his face like oh my god are you ok???? and he snorts and tries to suppress laughter and mc starts to laugh like, ‘wow ok i literally just witnessed the morning star eat shit’ and the two laugh more and more until tears are streaming down their faces- after they’ve calmed down, lucifer’s like ‘ok help me up i think i broke my back.’ ohhh silly lucifer my beloved

mammon + 17: regrets

so... i understand this might not be completely canon so SORRY bear with me: after the events of lesson 16, life resumed as normal- belphegor was free, lucifer felt a huge burden lifted off his chest, beelzebub had his brother back, diavolo was appeased that belphegor's rage towards humans dissipated, the brothers had closure on their late sister. sure. but mammon felt off- he was supposed to keep mc safe, designated as their bodyguard from day 1. and yet- he held their dead body in his hands. he knows this is silly- mc is right there, laughing alongside asmodeus. yet there's this constant inkling of despair- he'd close his eyes and still see blood, mc's face paling, their neck going limp. but then, he'd open them and see mc staring at him with such a loving smile upon their face. he can't help but feel that he somehow failed mc, them dying as a result of his own negligence. he grieves for the version of them he lost everyday, regret eating away at his heart- but it only helps him to realize just how in love he is with the human, and that he'd move heaven and hell for them.

satan + 4: best places to kiss on their body

so to me satan is kinda cute kinda awkward and i am solely basing this off this one interaction where mammon's like: yeah i was mc's first ^^ and satan BLUSHES and lucifer's like mammon... don't word it like that, you're making satan blush ^^ and they kinda make fun of him. i think that's so cute and it fuels this picture of satan that he's a cute little guy who gets flustered easily, so he honestly would love kisses anywhere. anyway i think kissing him atop his hand is very chivalrous and formal, much alike his fantasy books of princesses meeting their suitors. or a kiss upon their cheek- such an intimate act with such grave hidden meanings as seen in his suspense novels [could it be to distract them as they slip their hand into their pocket, or poison to their wineglass, or even to appoint the person who the soldiers should arrest...?]

satan + 5: guilty pleasures

he secretly loves reading diary of a wimpy kid, he's got all the books LETS GOOOOO

Everyday we stray further from god’s light...jk jk

I said I was ok with most nsfw and now I’m gonna live up to that claim so here we go!!!

Btw I checked Bad Dragon’s website and they actually have a model called “Demon Dick” so uhh….yeah….

For some reason “keep reading” was messing with the format so I had to repost this. I didn’t include any pictures but I did include links to what I think the boys might look like down there based on the models they had so proceed at your own risk!!

(Side note: I only had shape in mind while I was choosing these bc some of those colors really be wild. Also I’d like to imagine they’re all “extra large” sized)

Lucifer - (https://bad-dragon.com/products/axel)

That night, Lucifer called you into his room for a little “chat.” What was supposed to be a discussion of the student exchange program quickly escalated into something else as you found yourself unable to pull away from his lips as he trapped you in his embrace. It wasn’t long before he moved to the bed, sat down, and shifted his legs apart making it very clear what he wanted next. Now you were on your knees frantically trying to undo Lucifer’s belt while he looked down at you, smirking at how needy you’ve become. After pulling his trousers down to his ankles you made quick work of his boxers moving them down just as eagerly until....you saw it. You thought that since Lucifer looked mostly human the rest of him would look human as well but you were wrong. Not only was he longer and thicker than anything you’ve seen before but his shape was also…well...unique. After staring at it for a good few seconds he moved your face closer by gently nudging your head forward. The action only made you jolt and scoot a good three feet back.

“Lucifer, I love you but I’m not putting that anywhere near my mouth” you say as you slowly take a step back.

“And why is that? Too big for a human?” his eyebrows furrowed as you took another step.

“Too big f- YOUR DICK IS THICKER THAN A SODA CAN DO YOU WANT ME TO CHOKE???”

“......”

He stayed silent as he watched you slip out of his room, too shocked and embarrassed by your response to go after you. He didn’t think being “too big” was ever going to be a problem for him until now.

Mammon - (https://bad-dragon.com/products/crackers)

Even though he had his own room Mammon insisted on staying in your room again, going on about how it was an “honor” to have him sleep over. You were starting to get tired of his little act so you decided to shut him up with a kiss. To your credit it did work for a good two seconds before he retaliated by pulling you into a kiss on his own. Soon your hands started to wander up his shirt and while he shivered at your touch he followed your lead and did the same. The kiss was messy but full of passion. Once you pulled apart Mammon carried you over to your bed, plopping you down onto the sheets as he fell on top of you. You knew exactly where this was going so you started to strip once you landed on the sheets. After you threw your clothes to the side you started helping Mammon with his belt. He kicked his pants off then his boxers and as you looked down you almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was definitely bigger than a human and the bumps and ridges along his shaft didn’t seem like they were going to make it any easier for you to take him in. Mammon started to get embarrassed from your staring his skin turning a dark shade of red.

“Quit starin at me like that! W-What are you tryna say I’m small or something cus I’m no-”

“Oh you are anything but small Mammon. Quite the opposite actually. I just...I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m out...”

“What do you mean you’re out? This is your room where are you going??”

That night you stayed in Mammon’s room while he was left to contemplate his life in your room. Well at least you thought he was big so that’s….partially a win right?

Leviathan - (https://bad-dragon.com/products/lenneth)

That night, Leviathan invited you over to read some new manga he got from Akuzon. It received a lot of hype before its release so he was looking forward to reading it with you. When you stepped into his room he handed you a copy of the latest volume in the series and let you sit on his bed while he plopped himself into a bean bag. You laid on your stomach turning page after page but after a while you noticed a pair of eyes spying on you as you rested on the sheets. Levi kept peeking up from his book to take glances at you so you shot him a glance and a smile back making him look away in embarrassment. Deciding the manga could wait, you made your way over to Levi, gently moving the book out of his hands to lean in for a kiss. He was shy but he didn’t seem to resist as he let his hands comb through your hair and wander down your back. Wanting to speed things up you crouched down between his legs and undid his belt and pants zipper before palming him through his boxers. Levi shuddered at the contact but froze completely when you pulled down his boxers altogether. Aside from his impressive size the shape of his cock was definitely different from a human’s.

“Levi...you uhhh-”

“I know”

“It’s umm...”

“Yeah”

“It looks-”

“I GET IT!!!! IT LOOKS LIKE SOMETHING YOU’D SEE FROM A HENTAI NOW STOP STARING!!!!!”

Both of you sat there for a moment trying to diffuse the awkward situation until you decided to break the silence. “Well it’s still not as bad as tentacles right?”

You were forcibly removed from Levi’s room.

Satan - (https://bad-dragon.com/products/fenrir)

You had a test coming up soon and luckily Satan was generous enough to help you study for it. The both of you were seated in the farthest corner of the library to avoid any noise or disturbances from the other visitors. You were able to make great progress with his help but after three hours of cramming you needed a break. Since the two of you were alone with pretty much no one else around to see or hear your shenanigans, you decided to see just how far you could push the demon sitting beside you. Your eyes were trained on your textbook but your hand slipped under the table stroking Satan’s thigh slowly before moving up between his legs. Normally he would have protested by now but it seems that Satan was just as in need of a break as you were. He shifted closer to you making it easier to undo his belt and zipper. You stroked him through his boxers for a bit before pulling them down to his thighs to get a good look at what was underneath. You almost did a double take once you noticed not only the ungodly size of his dick but also the curves and ridges around his head and shaft. Without a word you slid his boxers back up, zipped his pants, and buckled his belt before turning back to the book you left on the table and pretending you saw nothing, unwilling to even look Satan in the eyes after what you just saw.

“Uhhh why did you jus-”

“Wow! This question is pretty hard what did you get for number six again?”

“MC you didn’t answer my-”

“Were we supposed to read pages 134 to 145 or was it 150 to 166?”

“MC!!!!!”

“Shhhh! Satan we’re in a library it's rude to yell”

This went on for a while until the two of you eventually went back to studying, forgetting the events that previously unfolded.

Asmodeus - (https://bad-dragon.com/products/spritz)

You and Asmo had the day off so you spent it at the mall. After getting your hair and nails done at a salon the two of you went to Majolish to find some new outfits. You searched through racks of clothing until your cart was full but before you could buy anything you had to make sure they fit first. As you brought your clothes into the dressing room you pulled on the door but before it could shut you felt a hand stop it mid-swing, preventing it from closing. It was Asmo. He held his pointer finger against his lips to quiet you before slipping into the cramped stall with you. “Today’s been great and all MC but how about we make it even better?” his warm breath tickled your ear as he whispered but that didn’t stop you from nodding in agreement with his desires. There was a chance someone could spot you so you both tried to speed things up before someone noticed. You removed your shirt and guided Asmo’s hands back to your chest letting him play with your nipples while you palmed him through his pants. Neither of you could wait any longer so you got on your knees and started removing his pants and boxers. You were prepared to fuck but you weren’t prepared to see....that. For the Avatar of Lust his cock was certainly intimidating in both size and shape. It wasn’t quite human in appearance either which was pretty evident at first glance.

“Alright MC now just- hey wait! Where are you going?? MC?!?!!”

Before you could even think about how to fit his cock inside of you, you grabbed your shirt, slipped it back on, and sprint-walked out of the dressing room as quickly and quietly as you could, leaving Asmo behind.

Beelzebub - (https://bad-dragon.com/products/clayton)

There was no doubt about it. Beelzebub was one of the biggest and strongest among the brothers but you wanted to see for yourself just how “big” he could really get. After dinner that night, you slipped into Beel’s room with a bowl of ice cream you snuck from the kitchen. You offered to give him some with the condition that you got to feed him. Needless to say he agreed and was honestly enjoying himself until you “accidentally” shifted causing the bowl to slip out of your hands and the ice cream to spill onto your chest and shirt. Beel looked sad for a second because of his ice cream but after seeing the smirk that was slowly spreading across your face he soon understood everything. “You were planning this weren’t you?” Your smirk only grew larger once you heard those words. “Well since my shirt is dirty I might as well take it off~” you lifted your shirt over your head and threw it into the corner of the room leaving your chest exposed, some melted ice cream still dripping down your skin. Beel licked his lips before leaning in to taste you, letting his tongue roam over every curve. Before he moved down between your legs you decided you wanted to get a taste of him too so you pushed him onto his back and started undoing his belt and zipper before eagerly sliding down his pants and boxers. Your jaw almost hit the floor. You knew he was big but this? This was insane!! You couldn’t even wrap your hand around his shaft completely!!! And as if his size wasn’t intimidating enough he also had bumps and ridges along the sides of his cock too!! Your body was ready to nope the fuck out of there so without thinking you slipped your stained shirt back on and found yourself ready to exit Beel’s room, hand already on the door knob.

“Uhh MC? Where are you going? I’m right here!” Beel was still on his back confused as all heck.

“I’m just….gonna get you a replacement ice cream I’ll be back...”

Once you shut the door Beel could have sworn he heard the sound of sprinting. He didn’t see you for the rest of the night but he did find a bowl of ice cream at his doorstep.

Belphegor - (https://bad-dragon.com/products/sleipnir)

You knew Belphegor hated being woken up more than anything but you hoped that he would make an exception just this once. He didn’t seem opposed to sharing the bed either out of fondness for you or from being too tired to care. You curled yourself around him, nuzzling his back while your hands slowly traveled up his shirt. Your fingers eventually worked their way up to play with his chest and nipples. Belphegor couldn’t ignore your presence anymore so instead he was going to make sure you made it worth his time. He rolled over onto his back and positioned you so you would be on top of him. Belphegor wasn’t usually the type to rush sex but he was exhausted after going through classes that day and the fact that you woke him up wasn’t exactly a good thing either. Not wanting to waste much time he grabbed your waist and started grinding against you only stopping for a moment to remove his pants and boxers. You were about to lower yourself onto him until you noticed just how big he was. His length and girth were above that of a human, not to mention he had a number of bumps and ridges along his shaft. There was no way you were about to impale yourself on that so instead you rolled off of him and wrapped yourself in a blanket burrito with your face turned away from him.

“Y’know Belphie it's late, your tired, I’m tired, maybe we should just go sleep RIGHT NOW ”

“Wha- after you spent all that time trying to-mMPH!!” you threw a pillow at his face denying him the chance to finish his sentence.

“CAN’T HEAR YOU I’M SLEEPING!!!!”

Belphie was confused and irritated that you riled him up for nothing but at least he could sleep now.

Hi! I love your blog❣ Can I request a brother + undatables ( if you do that) reaction with a very obedient mc? Like they do everything they've been asking and stuff? Thank you in advance!❣❣

Aw, thanks a bunch, Nonnie! This will be a good test for me, since I usually end up writing snarky characters who fight authority. I hope you like it!

I’m going to stick this under a cut because it, uh, got away from me a little bit. I didn’t even do all of the undateables and I was over 3k. ^^”

Lucifer: “I’m sorry to keep piling tasks on you.”

With a grunt, the human set the heavy stack of books down on the table in Lucifer’s study. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Lucifer let his professional mask slip for just a second to smile warmly at them. “If only my brothers were as agreeable as you.”

“At least they provide entertainment.” they laughed. “What are all these books, anyway?”

“Old spell books,” he removed the top book off of the stack, unleashing a cloud of dust that sent the human into a coughing fit. “In desperate need of some maintenance.”

“That sounds more like Satan’s territory.” they rasped as the couching subsided.

“It usually is, but I don’t need to give him any more ideas for his curses.” despite his words, there was a glint of fond humor is his eyes. “If you aren’t busy, could you give me a hand with these?”

“Sure!” they took a seat in the armchair across from Lucifer. “I’ve been studying all day, so I ind of need a break.”

“Oh? An dutiful helper and a diligent student?” he hummed, smoothing out the crease of a page that had been marked with a dog-ear. “I may just have to reward you.”

“What kind of reward?”

“Hm...” he pinned them with a heavily-lidded stare. “Anything you want. What kind of reward do you desire?”

“...Ice cream!”

Lucifer couldn’t hold back his surprised snort before he quickly devolved into laughter. “My, but you do know how to surprise me, my dear. Very well, a trip to Madam Scream’s as a reward, then.”

Mammon: They looked really tired.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Promise!” Asmo was tugging insistently on their sleeve like a child begging for their parent’s attention. “You’ve never been to a club like the Fall, I guarantee it. It’s the perfect place to get up to something naughty ~”

Alright, that’s it.

“Oi, Asmo!” Mammon rounded on the other demon. “Quit trying to drag the human along with your gross BS!”

“Oh, but it’s fine when you do it?” Asmo shot back, amber eyes narrowing. “At least I’m not conning people out of cash.”

“Whatever!” Mammon grabbed onto the human’s upper arm, shaking Asmo’s hands off of their sleeve. “Come on, human, I need you to help me with somethin’.”

“Whoa, okay, um...maybe next time Asmo.” they managed to get out before Mammon dragged them into his room and slammed the door.

He was muttering under his breath so quickly and quietly that the human could just barely make out a few phrases. “...fuckin’ Asmo...advantage of...where does he get off...”

“Uh, Mammon?” they asked hesitantly. “You said you needed my help with something?”

“Huh?” he whipped around, looking slightly startled. “Oh. Nah, I was just sayin’ that so Asmo would let you go.”

They blinked, tilting their head like a puppy. “Why would you do that?”

“Come on, human, don’t lie to me,” he rolled his eyes, hands on hips. “You don’t want to go clubbing after spending the day running around like Lucifer’s little servant, do ya? You look like you’re about ready to pass out.”

Instinctively, their hand shot up to beneath their eyes, where there were some pretty prominent bags. “...Do I look that bad?”

Mammon flinched. “No! That’s not - I didn’t mean - ya look tired!” he scratched at the back of his neck. “It’ll look bad on me if you keel over from exhaustion, and since you can’t seem to say no to anyone, I’m gonna have to do it for you!”

For a moment, they just stared at him. Then, slowly, a big grin spread across their face and they stepped forward to wrap their arms around his middle. They only came up to his collarbone, and he was suddenly very aware of this fact.

“Thank you, Mammon.”

“F-For what?”

They laughed, squeezing him a little bit tighter. “For looking out for me.”

He stilled for a moment before resting his chin on top of their head and returning the hug. “’S my job, ain’t it?”

Leviathan: Knock-knock-knock.

“What’s the password?”

“I’ve got your Akuzon order.”

Levi practically ripped his door off of the hinges as he flung it open. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, omg!” he was already ripping the box open, leaving the door open in his excitement.

“What did you get?” the human asked, poking their head in the doorway.

“The anime adaptation for I’m A Human Who Accidentally Enrolled In A University For Monsters But They’re The Only School That Has My Major So I Guess I’ll Stick It Out! Anime based off of dating sims usually aren’t that great, but I loved the game so much!”

They laughed. “We played it together, remember? We had that big debate on the order we should do the routes.”

“Right, yeah, we did!” Levi paused for a moment, looking down at the cover, and then back up at the human with a slightly blush on his cheeks. “Hey, um…since you went and picked it up for me, and, like, you were just as into the game as I was, so…maybe, um, you would want to watch it with me?”

“Really?” they blinked. “You sure?”

“Yeah, marathons are always better with friends.” Levi was already popping the first disk in. “Hey, go get some snacks!”

Satan: “Oh, you’re still working?”

The human glanced down at him from their position at the top of the ladder, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s taking me a bit longer than I thought.”

Lucifer has asked them to clean the library earlier that day. Well, not just them - Mammon was supposed to help, but he had oh-so-conveniently remembered that he had something else very urgent that he needed to take care of. So, here they were, five hours later.

Honestly, the library wasn’t even that dirty. But it was quite a large room, far too large for a human to clean by themself.

Satan sighed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing I made a pit stop on the way home, then.” he set down the cardboard drink carrier in his hands. “Come down for a moment, will you?”

“Ah, yeah, just give me a sec.”

Satan heard the slight clattering of wood against wood, and looked up to the the ladder swaying slightly. The human was carefully picking their way down, seemingly painfully aware of the instability.

“Oh, here, I’ve got it.” one hand on the side of the ladder was enough to steady it, and he heard them let out a sigh of relief as they clambered down the rest of the way.

“Thanks, Satan.” they said as their feet touched the ground. “I didn’t realize it was shaking until I was already on it.”

“Mention it to Lucifer, he’ll do something about it.” Satan replied, brushing a bit of dust out of their hair. “Come on, I brought you some coffee.”

They followed him over to the table, and their eyes lit up when they saw the logo on the bag. “Starbats! Yes, thank you so much!”

“Did I get your order right?” he asked, plucking his own drink out of the carrier. “I was pretty sure, but…”

“Perfect, as always.” they beamed. “You’re the best, Satan.”

“Hey, come on, now,” there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “You’re the one who does everything around here. Buying you coffee is the least I can do.”

Asmodeus: “Well? How did it turn out?”

The human stared at their D.D.D, brow furrowed in concentration as they studied the picture they had just taken. Asmo had texted them frantically, telling them to hurry because the light in his room was just perfect for a photoshoot and he needed a full-body shot.

“I mean, it looks good to me, but you’ve nixed every shot I’ve taken so far…”

“Let me see it then,” he hopped up from the chaise lounge that he had elegantly draped himself over. His silk bathrobe just barely covered all of the essential parts, and the human had to make it a point not to stare. Not that Asmo would mind in the slightest, but still.

“This is it, darling, this is the one!” he pressed an affectionate kiss to the side of their head. “You’re a quick learner, I knew it. Text this to me, okay? I’ll tag you on Devilgram, promise!”

“Glad I could help.” they laughed as they began making their way out of Asmo’s room.

“Hm…wait a minute.”

The paused just in front of the door. Maybe there was an issue with the picture after all? They bit at their lip, ready to question Asmo, but he pressed his deceivingly strong hands against their shoulders and shoved gently.

“Go stand by the window for a second…mm, no, not quite, sit down for me…”

Confused, they obeyed his orders. They placed themself on the window seat, one of those fancy three paneled setups with a bench in the middle.

Out of habit, they turned to look out the window. Asmo was right, it was pretty out. The full moon cast a silvery glow over everything, but it was low enough in the lavender sky that it cast long, creepily elegant shadows all over the garden below. The whole landscape just screaming Gothic novel.

For just a moment, they forgot about Asmo and turned fully to gaze out at the scenery. The Devildom was always pretty in a morose sort of way, but very rarely did they get the chance to appreciate it. They shifted to get more comfortable on the window seat, pulling their knee to their chest and wrapping their arms around it while the other foot kept their balance on the floor.

“Perfect!”

When they whipped around in shock, Asmo was grinning victoriously. “Look, look, this is perfect!”

“Did…did you just take a picture of me?”

“Mhm!” Asmo bounded over to their side and handed them his D.D.D. When had he picked it up? His robe didn’t have pockets. Shaking their head, they looked down at the photo.

“...Oh wow…”

“Right?” Asmo cooed. “Don’t you look absolutely stunning? That longing stare, the way you smile, you look like the protagonist in a paranormal romance”

They blinked down at the picture. “Can…you text this to me?”

“Of course, darling.” he said. “Oh, but let me post it to Devilgram, okay? I want everyone to be jealous of me.”

He plucked his phone out of their hands, stealing a quick kiss from their lips.

“Well call this a reward for being good and obeying orders, okay?”

Beelzebub: “Where are we going?”

It was their lunch hour at RAD, but Beel was taking them in the opposite direction. He had asked the human to come with him, but hadn’t explained where they were going. He had just linked their hands together and smiled down at them, saying it was a surprise.

Finally, he pushed open a door that lead to one of the many internal courtyards. Rose bushes scented the air around them, and a stone path led to the middle of the courtyard where a gazebo stood. As they approached, they saw an amazing array of food spread out on a blanket.

“Beel…?”

“My brothers had you running around the whole weekend.” he said, running his thumb over the back of their knuckles. “You were so busy last night you didn’t get to make your lunch for today. So I asked Barbatos to make lunch for us.”

“Aw, Beel!” they wrapped their arms around his middle and squeezed. “You’re so sweet. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I should be thanking you for taking care of us.” Beel hugged them bag, almost painfully gently so as not to squish them. “My brothers don’t appreciate you nearly as much as they should.”

“It’s fine, Beel, I don’t mind it.”

“I do, though.”

They backed away from the hug a little to look up at Beel, brows furrowed. They were about to say something, but, as usual, the moment was interrupted by a growl from his stomach. The confused expression broke into a grin, and they rejoined their hands, tugging him forward. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Belphegor: Finally, they were alone.

It was rare that Belphegor got to spend any alone time with the human. It almost made him miss being hidden away in the attic, if only for the privacy. But, today was apparently his lucky day, because when he had finally managed to drag himself out of bed, he stumbled - quite literally, he was struggling to keep both eyes open - into the human on their way back to their room.

“I mean, I’m going to be studying, but if you want to come over, you can.”

“You say that like I’m not going to be sleeping.”

They laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. He really liked their laugh, especially when it was genuine.

He was almost home free. They had just made it up the stairs when -

“There you are!”

…Damn it.

“Oh, hey Asmo.” they greeted the other demon, smiling at him. “What’s up?”

“I left my makeup bag at RAD!” Asmo wailed like someone had just kicked his pet hell hound. “I have a date tonight, and I need to get in the bath, which you know is a solid two hour process. Do you think you could be a dear and run and grab it for me?”

The human was going to agree. Belphie could see it in their eyes. They didn’t want to, clearly, but that naturally agreeable disposition usually won out in these scenarios.

“Go get it yourself, Asmo.” he drawled, draping himself over their shoulder. “You’re a grown demon, aren’t you?”

“But - “

Belphegor straightened up from his perpetual slouch, one hand remaining on the human’s shoulder while he shouldered his way past Asmo. His shrieks of irritation were abruptly cut off when Belphie slammed the door to the human’s room behind him.

“What was that for, Belphie?” the human asked.

“You were going to do it.” he shrugged. “Even though you didn’t want to.”

“Well…”

Belphie made his way over to the bed, flopping down on his side with an oh-so-graceful thwump. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“I don’t understand me sometimes either.” they sighed, folding their arms. “It’s like, I feel guilty for saying no even if I’m perfectly within my rights. I don’t know why.”

“Eh…” Belphie hummed, sitting up a little bit. “Well, since you can’t seem to say no, I might as well take advantage of that.”

They recoiled a little bit at the wording, but he continued, opening his arms. “Let me cuddle you.”

For a moment, they were silent, and Belphie worried he might have put his foot in it. But, slowly, a smile tugged at their lips, and they clambered into bed with him. With a soft, contented sigh, they snuggled against his chest.

“It’s about time someone else took care of you, you know?”

Diavolo: “Lucifer needs to stop making you deliver his reports for him.”

The human laughed as they handed Diavolo they manila folder containing Lucifer’s paperwork. “I don’t mind it. The scenery at the castle is amazing to look at, it gives me an excuse to walk around a little bit.”

Diavolo grinned down at them. “Always so positive! You truly do brighten the room, my dear.” his molten gold eyes shined with a bit of mischief as he extended an arm to them. “Shall I make the trip worth your while? If you love the scenery near the entrance, you’ll be absolutely enchanted with everything else.”

“Oh,” their eyes widened slightly. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” he beamed when they hesitantly linked their arm through his. “Honestly, you have enough on your plate without Lucifer using you as a mule.”

“I told you, Lord Diavolo, I don’t mind it.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he replied, leading the two of them through a door that lead to a courtyard with a rose maze. “But I didn’t bring you here to be a servant. It’s unworthy of him to take advantage of your agreeable nature, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.”

“I mean…” they glanced around the courtyard, avoiding Diavolo’s painfully earnest eyes. “The brothers let me stay at the House of Lamentation, so helping out wherever I can is the least I can do, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like you’re intruding.” there was a hint of laughter in Diavolo’s voice as he expertly guided the two of them through the maze. “You were deposited here with nothing but the clothes on your back, the fact that you’re thinking about paying them back is astonishing.”

He paused. They had reached the center of the maze, stopping just beneath a great stone statue of what the human assumed was a previous king, or maybe even the current one. Diavolo turned to face them and took their hand in his large one, bringing their knuckles to his lips while never breaking eye contact.

“It’s one of the many things I find so charming about you.”

The Devil Doesn’t Do Children

Part: 3 / ?

Setting: About a year after 5a

Word count: 3.9K

Rating: T

Warnings: There’s a flashback to their first night together which is not exactly graphic but not entirely innocent either. Skip if you like.

Summary: ‘Yes, well, colour us both fooled, Detective,” he cuts her off, “because based on some deduction I did today, and a not entirely ludicrous theory Linda had, it might be, in fact, possible. And I… I need to know for sure, so,’—he nudges the small package further in her direction and looks back up at her with pleading eyes—‘would you care for a wee?’

Author’s note: This is all I have for now, but I’ve already got some ideas for a part 4, so stay tuned. I would love to hear your honest feedback on this and/or your wishes for what the next part should contain. (Second time posting this part, because I accidentally reported my own post and then tumblr took it down (*cosmic face palm*) — and it’d even gotten more notes than any of my other pieces and some really heart-warming comments. Alas. They can’t be deleted from my heart.)

It’s not exactly unlike Lucifer to disappear for half a day—still, it makes Chloe anxious, and she doesn’t like wasting her energy on being anxious. When she had checked if he had answered any of her calls or texts for the fifty-sixth time in an hour, Chloe had put her phone in a Tupperware, placed it on the kitchen counter and retreated to the couch with a glass of wine. She knew he would come back; he always did. But until he did, she would need a 16% Zinfandel. God knows she deserved it after a day like today.

Even wrapped in a plaid and with candles lit around her, she’d still felt restless. The wine hadn’t calmed her nerves quickly enough. She hadn’t been in the mood for watching TV or putting on her usual pick-me-up playlist—instead, she’d felt an urge to do something she rarely had time for. With her wine glass in hand, she’d gone to the bookshelf, her free hand instinctively reaching for the photo album with ‘November 2007 - May 2008’ scrawled on the back. She’d dusted it off, sat down on the couch again and carefully opened it, as if the photos she knew it held might fly out like butterflies freed from a cage.

She flips through the pages. Nostalgia flutters in her chest and her head is now comfortably fuzzy from the wine. Most of the pictures in the first half of the album are candid shots of her and Dan, together and alone. From January and onwards, the ones of her are mostly taken from her chest and up. She hadn’t wanted her body to be documented, having felt self-conscious and uncomfortable, and most of all big. Now that the bump has turned into a strong and independent teenager, she wishes she’d wallowed in it a little more, enjoyed it while it lasted. She’s proud of Trixie, of who she has become, and it is nice to do some things with her now they couldn’t do when she was small. But sometimes, just once in a blue moon, a part of Chloe kinda longs for the time when they were inseparable; when she could carry Trixie on her hip; when they would play hide ’n’ seek in their old garden; when she could feel her little monkey snuggle into her side as they both fell asleep. The latter still happens sometimes, but the once little monkey has now outgrown her soft polar bear PJ, and her hair doesn’t smell like baby anymore.

Chloe has just reached the end of February when there’s a rhythmic knock on the door. Sighing at her guest’s unnecessary (albeit heart-warmingly considerate) politeness, she puts the photo album and the glass of wine down on the coffee table, wraps the blanket tighter around herself and yells, ‘You have a key, Lucifer!’

Five seconds later, he’s standing in her living room. He’s changed his clothes, looking impeccable and completely overdressed as usual, but his hair is in a disarray, like he’s been tugging at it, and his face is grey. He looks tired.

‘Where have you been?’ she asks him, her voice softer than she expected it would be. He sits down on the couch beside her, and she grabs one of his hands with both of her own.

He studies their fingers. ‘I just had a tête-à-tête with Linda.’

He’s been gone for seven hours, but she doesn’t ask what he’s been doing apart from seeing his therapist. She trusts him, and she trusts that whatever he’s been up to, it was what he needed to do to deal with… Yes, what exactly is it he’s been dealing with?

‘Wanna talk about it?’ she asks, reaching for her wine glass and raising it to her lips in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Before the delicious, dark red Zin can flow into her waiting mouth, the glass is removed from her hand.

‘What in Dad’s name are you drinking?!’ he berates her, as if she was chugging down Roundup directly from the jug.

She stares at him with wide eyes, trying to figure him out. ‘Uhm, a small glass of wine?’

He gives her a disapproving look. ‘When you’re-’

For some reason, he doesn’t say the rest, so she finishes for him, ‘Working tomorrow? Well, yes. I am. But in my defence, I really needed it. And since when are you one to deny me alcohol anyway? Just yesterday you put whiskey in my coffee—at work!’ She reaches out to get her glass back, but before she can get a hold of it, he leans his head back and downs the rest of her drink in one go.

She closes her eyes for a second and lets out an exasperated breath through her nose. ‘Seriously, what has gotten into you?’ she inquire, her eyes narrowing as he wipes her Zinfandel off his lips with the back of his hand.

He snorts and glances down at where the throw blanket is covering her abdomen.‘You’re one to talk.’ In any other situation, she would think he was making a lewd comment, but there’s something about his tone that throws her off. Annoyance? Frustration? She opens her mouth to ask him but stops when she notices his eyes are fixed on something beside her. Turning her head to see what has caught his attention, she realises it’s the open photo album. He carefully grabs the cover between his fingers and pulls it towards himself on the table, not taking his eyes off it. She’d just turned the page when he’d knocked and hadn’t seen the photos that are now displayed in front of them. Two of them are pictures of a very new-born Trixie, both taken at the hospital. One is a close-up of her perfect, little face and the other is of Dan nervously cradling her in his arms. Chloe feels warmth prickle behind her eyes.

‘Is this you?’ Lucifer asks, pointing to the photo in the top right corner on the left page. She feels heat creeping up in her cheeks as she takes in the photograph that actually caught his eye. She’d remembered it wrong when she’d thought there weren’t any pictures of her body in her third trimester. There was—is. Just one. Dan took it a couple of nights before she (finally) went into labour, insisting they ‘commemorate her strong and beautiful body’, or something like that. (She’d only given in because he’d promised her a back rub afterwards.) The picture is taken from the side, showing her form from mid-thigh to her head. She’s practically naked, only covered by a pair of white panties and her arm as it rests across her enlarged chest. Her hair is curled up into a messy bun on top of her head, her neck bent as she smiles down at her round and enormous belly.

She senses him gulp beside her and looks over at him, expecting some comments—either in the category of ‘How many humans did you have in there?!’ or a delighted exclamation like ‘Your breasts, Detective!’—but he doesn’t say anything. He just sits there and stares at the fourteen-year-old photo of her, silent and unreadable.

‘Okay, that’s it,’ she says, a little too sharply, shutting the album. Once she’s put it back on the shelf, she comes to stand across from him on the other side of the coffee table, arms crossed.  ‘What’s going on with you?’

He looks so shocked she feels a little bad, but then a mix of unsettling emotions set in his face and she knows she was right to confront him so directly.

With a deep sigh of surrender, he reaches inside his jacket, pulls out something from his pocket and places it on the table. It’s a flat and rectangular box, light blue and bright pink—medical and feminine.

‘Lucifer, I’m not in the mood for jokes right now,’ she tells him tiredly when she realises what the box contains. His brown eyes are sombre as they stare into her own.

‘As much as I wish it was, it’s not a joke.’

She eyes the small package before looking at him again. ‘So you actually think that I’m…?’ She trails off, suddenly finding it hard to pronounce the word. He nods.

Well, that explains a lot.

‘But that’s not possible,’ she states. ‘I mean, not just because you can’t, you know, but also-‘

‘Yes, well, colour us both fooled, Detective,” he cuts her off, “because based on some deduction I did today, and a not entirely ludicrous theory Linda had, it might be, in fact, possible. And I… I need to know for sure, so,’—he nudges the small package further in her direction and looks back up at her with pleading eyes—‘would you care for a wee?’

As she takes in his exhausted and anxious expression, she knows he won’t rest until they settle this once and for all. With a shrug and a ‘If it makes you feel better’ she grabs the unwrapped pregnancy test between them and climbs the stairs to go to the bathroom.

 *

 He’s pacing her living room to the point he might wear a hole in her floor, and his Italian wingtips, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Never in Lucifer’s incalculable lifetime has he waited this long for anything. He may have waited millennia upon millennia for her—his love, his saviour, his sun—but not consciously. And that makes all the difference.

Because waiting when you know you’re waiting, is torture. So he’s come to realise during the past thirty-six seconds. (Well, one hundred and sixty-eight, if you count the time it took her to get upstairs and urinate on the stick—but only thirty-six– thirty-seven seconds have passed since he’d finally heard her flush.) And now a little more than two minutes remain before he definitively finds out whether he really has made Chloe pregnant.

He needs a drink, or a bottle. Or five.

Momentarily breaking off his aimless parading, he goes to her kitchen in search for that zinfully strong wine he’d taken away from her before. Before he can find it, he changes his mind, remembering that he’s upgraded her tea selection to a hand-plucked assortment of fine liquor. He grabs the strongest spirit in sight and gulps down a good half of it before once again finding himself pacing the floor just in front of the stairs, bottle to his lips.

Fifty-eight seconds passed.

He tries to distract himself with happy thoughts, but his happy thoughts involve sex with Chloe, and that’s what got him into this imbroglio in the first place. Oh, how tainted some of his best memories have become now. He reminisces on that... incredible first night in his penthouse a little less than a year ago, when they had—finally—given into their incandescent desire and thrown themselves at each other. He remembers, clearer than anything, how she’d lied there, naked and glowing against his dark sheets. How he’d been completely overwhelmed with awe. How he’d kissed her swollen lips and dug his fingers into the soft skin at her waist as he’d slid into her, bare; how he’d savoured the feeling of her and nothing but her—no cheaply produced rubber between them. Just lust, and love, and warmth. Because, for the first time ever, there was only one, the one, and it was her, and they could feel every inch of each other without worry.

It’s his single sweetest memory, the best night of his infinite life, and now all he can think is how moronically naïve he’d been. How utterly stupid he was to believe that the rules that applied to everyone else also applied to her—her. The one person who was immune to his charms, the one person who made him vulnerable, made him human. The person who was created with him in mind.

But alea iacta est, the Rubicon is crossed, and he’s bought a lifetime supply of condoms (he’d donated his stock to a frat house a week before the aforementioned night)—just in case she doesn’t want to stuff herself with hormones again. That is, if the damage isn’t already done.

One minute and forty-two seconds till they have an answer.

He empties the bottle nestled in his arms and goes to find another one. Even in the Detective’s proximity, the alcohol won’t have the effect he’d wish it would, but the delectable taste and the comfortable burn in his throat might get his mind off things, if only for a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t. Two empty bottles later, and he’s still walking up and down her living room floor, watching the milliseconds pass on his pocket watch.

He tries focusing on objects in his surroundings—fixating a vase, or the offspring’s artworks, or the empty wine glass on the coffee table. But his eyes keep flicking back to a certain leather-bound photo album on the bookshelf, perpetually reminding him of the picture that had aroused a polyphony of unwanted emotions in him. First came astonishment (he’d never seen a picture of her pregnant body, and Dad help him, was it in an eyeful). Then came fear, adoration, panic, lust, despair, pride, jealousy—not in any particular order, one following after the other. No, they’d washed over him all at once, like razor-sharp darts hitting him from every direction, poisoning him, each inflicting him with their own flavour of pain. He knows he’ll never forget the picture, that it’ll pop up in his mind when he least expects it, and that it’ll take his breath away every time. But he doesn’t know what to think or feel about that, so he tries not to.

One minute and three seconds to go.

He reaches into his pocket, wanting to occupy his mind with some endless scrolling through photos of beach parties and prime suits and other uncomplicated things, but remembers his phone died somewhere between flying to France for comfort foods and seeing Linda. So instead, he pictures his Detective in her bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, or perhaps pacing the room like himself, waiting with him. She hadn’t seemed too concerned when he’d voiced his suspicion—surprised, yes, but not concerned. Maybe she hadn’t completely believed him when he’d assured her it wasn’t in jest? Maybe she’d already been too tipsy to actually comprehend what he’d told her? It seemed implausible that she wouldn’t be the least bit anxious about the thought of a baby-Satan living in her womb. When she’d learned she was pregnant with Beatrice, she had, to quote her, been ‘absolutely terrified’. But when Lucifer, the Devil himself, had told her his progeny might be growing inside her, she’d just shrugged! Of course, genetically, she did have more to worry about with Daniel (with his unfortunate looks and all)—but still. Why hadn’t she been more scared? Why hadn’t she freaked outand stopped functioning altogether, like he had?

 Had she been…

 happy?

 Does she want to have his baby? Is she sitting in her bathroom right now, hoping he’s right?

They’ve never talked about having children. He had, between grunts and moans and hungry kisses, assured her he was sterile, and she’d seemed more than happy to ride him bareback without getting back on the pill. But she has never told him—and he’d never seen the point in asking—whether she’d want a child together if they could.

Consequently, he has absolutely no idea what she’s feeling now that she might actually be carrying his spawn. He doesn’t even know if she’d want to keep it. He has an inkling she would.

 He hopes she would.

 Not because he longs to play house—he’s not insane—but because it’s always nice when people keep the gifts you give them.

Not that he sees having a dependant for eighteen years as a gift. But maybe the Detective does. After all, she does look at the urchin like she’s nothing short of a miracle—and not a messy adolescent who always throws her purple Chucks where people are bound to trip over them.

Just last week, he had (or the teenager had) ruined one of his favourite Prada shirts as he’d caught his foot on her misplaced footwear and spilt Pinot Noir all over himself.

And yet, he would do anything for the little slob. At the beginning, it’d been about keeping Chloe safe and happy, and with that came the side gig of protecting her child. But he can’t deny it’s more than that now. He doesn’t just tolerate Beatrice anymore; he likes her. Chloe would protest and say he more than likes her, but he’s not quite ready for that other L-word yet (Dad knows he doesn’t speak it easily). He must confess, however, that it’d done something to his heart when Trix, a month ago, had posted a picture on her Instagram of herself, Lucifer and Chloe on the beach, laughing about something he doesn’t remember now, and simply, without a second thought, had captioned it ‘family 💜💗🧡’.

He’d tapped the like-button but hadn’t commented something clever and witty like he usually does on her posts. Instead, he had taken a screenshot and made it his lock screen.

Even as an empty battery has left his phone screen black for the moment, he easily recalls the photo. They do resemble some sort of a family, the three of them. Trix might not have his genes, but she’d been wearing his spare pair of Ray-Bans, and the necklace he’d given her for her thirteenth birthday had, as per usual, been resting around her neck. And that is more than enough for him.

In fact, he couldn’t ask for more.

Which is why it is exceedingly exasperating and so damn confusing that this relatively new family of his may now be growing. What exactly is he supposed to think of that? He’s already struggling to not let Chloe and Beatrice down, to be as good as they so confidently believe he is—why does he have to deal with a third one? Someone who is his own flesh and blood, at that. Not that it matters; he’s learned a long time ago that blood is not always—aka. never—thicker than water. Nonetheless, he won’t let history repeat itself; he won’t– refuses to fail his child.

 But what if he does?

 What if he fails his own child?

 What if he fails the only family he’s ever had?

‘Negative,’ the Detective’s voice suddenly sounds as she descends the stairs, startling him out of his thoughts. He gives her an apologetical look when their eyes meet. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I am trying my best. It’s just, as tiny as it is in size, it’s a lot to wrap my head around.’

‘No, the test,’ she clarifies. ‘It’s negative.’ She walks over to meet him in three steps and hands him the white stick. ‘Not pregnant’ it says on the digital display.

‘But,’ he finds himself objecting, taking his eyes off the test to look at her face, ‘your morning sickness.’

She furrows her brow. ‘It was food poisoning, like you said. Trixie got it too—at school of all places. Dan had to pick her up and take her home.’

Having witnessed her mother’s reaction to their shared dinner first-hand, Lucifer is struck by empathy for the urchin. He makes a mental note to send her a funny video—later, when he’s sorted out the more urgent matters at hand.

‘But you’re late. Your menstruation was due nine days ago,’ he informs Chloe, presenting his other piece of evidence. She doesn’t bat an eye. ‘Well, yeah, it was late, but I was probably just getting back in sync with Ella or something, ‘cause I got it yesterday.’

Annoyance simmers in his chest. ‘Well, then why didn’t you bloody say so?!’

All the trouble—all the emotional torture he could have saved himself if she’d just thought to keep him updated on her menstrual cycle.

‘I tried!’ she defends. ‘But then you cut me off, and I figured you wouldn’t believe me before you saw a negative test anyway, so…’

‘And you didn’t think to tell me yesterday?’

‘Well, I first got it when I came home from work, and you got here late.’

He’d slipped out of Lux relatively early, considering he was the owner and the host of the night’s event, but it’d still been past 3.00 before he’d arrived at her flat and had found her and Beatrice snuggling on the couch, both sound asleep. Even as he’d gathered his snoring girlfriend in his arms and carried her up to her bedroom, she hadn’t stirred (if anything, she’d snored louder) and he had, in lieu of surprising her with some late-night cunnilingus, simply slid off her sweats, left on her knickers and t-shirt, and let her sleep.

‘Still, we live in the twenty-first century, Detective; the Short Message Service has been invented,’ he reminds her.

She glares at him, as if he is the one who’s being unreasonable. ‘You want me to text you when I get my period?’ He solemnly raises an eyebrow, demanding she take him seriously. ‘Okay, fine. If it means that much to you, I promise I’ll… notify you next time.’

That only irks him even more.

‘Well, it won’t matter next time, will it?! Because, evidently, I am as sterile as a castrate!’ There’s a loud clack as he puts down the negative pregnancy test on the shelf behind her, more forcefully than he intended. She stares at him with an expression he can’t quite read.

‘Are you not happy about this?’ she asks him.

A strident snort fills the room. ‘“Not happy”? Did you hurt your head, Detective?! Of course, I’m happy! I’m thrilled as a matter of fact. I mean, can you imagine me, the Devil—Lucifer Morningstar—with a baby? Dad no!’

She steps closer to him, reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers. Her eyes are big and clear—shining with so much sympathy it makes him uncomfortable.

‘It’s okay to be disappointed, too, you know?’ she tells him softly, staring into his eyes, reaching for his soul. He looks up at a point above her head.

‘Well, I’m not,’ he assures her, articulating each word.

He senses her nodding, but she doesn’t seem entirely convinced. Annoyed at her scepticism, he looks back down at her and opens his mouth to stress just how delighted he is with the news. But before he can say anything, she squeezes his hand and leaves him with a tender smile as she goes to discard the test. Once done with the task, she heads for the stairs, but instead of going up to her bedroom immediately she pauses at the second step, hesitating. As she turns to face him, the hint of a smile remains on her lips, even as her expression remains concerningly grave. ‘I can, by the way,’ she says.

He knits his brows, not following.

‘I can imagine you—Lucifer Morningstar—with a baby. But if you’re not ready for that conversation, that’s okay.’

And then he is left at the bottom of the stairs, breathless and paralysed. Inside him, something shifts ever so slightly—yet just enough that he will never be the same again.

The Masterlist

Last Updated: 10/23/20

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Supernatural:

     (Last Updated: 10/09/20)

          Who We Are: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Sam, Dean, and the reader are locked in the MOL bunker with Lady Bevell. Based on S12 E22. (Season 12 Spoilers!, sweet!Dean, protective!Dean, protective!Sam, protective!reader, badass!reader, mentions of sex, slight fluff)

[Status: Completed]

          You’re Always Worth My Favorite Shirt

When the reader is severely injured after a hunt, Dean stays with her until her last breath. (angst, reader death, worried!Dean, protective!Dean)

          Green Eyes

Dean escapes the devil’s trap in the dungeon, causing panic throughout the bunker. Based on S10 E3. (Season 10 Spoilers!, angst, demon!Dean)

          Happy Birthday, Baby

When Sam and Dean are away on a hunt, it leads the reader to believe that they have forgotten her birthday. (fluff, implied smut, proposal, sweet!Dean)

          Our Song

On Dean and the reader’s anniversary, they recount memories of how they ended up together after a bad fight. (fluff, angst, break-up, proposal)

          He Was Right

After hearing stories of how John used to treat the boys while raising them, the reader goes to give him a piece of her mind. (angst, mentions of emotional abuse)

          Sleepless Nights

The reader can’t sleep, so she takes a walk in the bunker, only to find herself at Dean’s door. (angst, nightmares, sweet!Dean, fluff)

          Only You Series

When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.

[Status: Completed]

          Together

Sam and Dean Winchester are still grieving from the loss of Castiel, and reeling from Mary being stuck in apocalypse world with Lucifer. With all hope going down the drain, the reader offers a shoulder for the boys to lean on. (Season 12 Spoilers!, angst, fluff, angry!Dean, depressed!Dean)

          A Father’s Blessing

A nervous Dean goes to the reader’s childhood home to ask her father for her hand. (proposal, nervous!Dean, sweet!Dean)

          Trick or Treat!

After years of hunting, the reader, Dean, and Sam are able to retire. The world is finally safe, allowing them to all live a normal life and enjoy Halloween night. (husband!Dean, father!Dean, mother!reader, sweet!Dean, Halloween, trick or treating)

          Finally

Sam goes with the reader to the bar after a hunt. She has a little too much to drink, resulting in a drunken confession to Dean. (slight angst, drunk!reader, sweet!Dean)

          Bad Moon Rising

The reader and Dean watch each other’s backs on an intense hunt. After Dean is almost killed by a werewolf, the reader makes a confession. (implied smut, fluff, angst, badass!reader)

          Pancake

The reader is a professional volleyball player trying to get to nationals, and Sam and Dean are in the stands cheering her on. (athletic!reader, volleyball, very slight fluff)

          Play it Again

On a day in the bunker, the reader overhears Dean in his room playing guitar and is surprised by just how talented he is. (Dean singing, Simple Man, Dean playing guitar)

          What a Douche

Sam, Dean, and the reader are enjoying their weekend off at a bar. But when a man raises his hand against a woman, the reader steps in to save the day. (protective!reader, protective!Dean, chivalrous!reader, chivalrous!Dean)

          Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner

When Sam goes comatose, Dean stays with him at the hospital, leaving it up to the reader to take care of him. (comatose!Sam, hospital, worried!Dean, worried!reader, sweet!Dean, angst)

          Between Timelines

Dean enlists Rowena’s help to use a spell that allows him to go back in time and see the reader before she meets an untimely demise. (reader death, mentions of death, angst, sad, bittersweet ending)

          You Bring Out the Worst in Me

Crowley asks the reader, a demon, to spy on the Winchesters and keep him informed. While she is living with the boys, Dean turns into a demon. (Season 10 Spoilers!, demon!reader, sexual innuendos, suuuuper dark and sexy vibe)

          A Little TLC

The reader suffers from issues of self-hate, and although she is getting better about it, she still has her bad days. Luckily, she has Dean to help her feel better. (self-consciousness, self-hate, sweet!Dean, fluff, comfort, light-hearted humor)

          All That Matters Is You’re Okay

On her way home from a grocery run, the reader gets into a car accident and ends up in the hospital. When she wakes up, all she can think about is how upset Dean is going to be about his car. (wounded!reader, protective!Dean, worried!Dean, car accident)

          Tiny Dancer

The reader is taking a drive after a long week when a handsome stranger in the car next to her starts singing along with her to the radio. (Tiny Dancer, cute, some humor, brief encounter)

          Keep Talking

When Dean’s life is on the line after a rough hunt, the reader takes it upon herself to make sure Dean stays awake. (wounded!Dean, concerned!reader, protective!reader)

          More Than Sex

After so many blind dates gone bad over the past two years, the reader finally decides to give up on her love life. That is until she meets a man by chance in the men’s restroom. (sweet!Dean, blind dates, bad dates, mentions of sex)

          Precious Moments

When Dean is having a rough night with his thoughts, the reader is there to comfort him. (emotional, fluff, comfort, emotional hurt, bittersweet)

          Beat Them at Their Own Game

The reader, a rival hunter of Sam and Dean, makes it a personal goal to solve the boys’ cases before they can. (hunting, irritated!Dean, amused!Sam)

          Gut Instinct

One night, the reader is closing down the store where she works when suddenly, she is attacked by a demon. Of course, none other than Dean Winchester comes in to save the day. (protective!Dean, stranger!Dean, flirting, demon)

          Plus One: Part 1, Part 2

Dean goes with the reader to the wedding of one of her old friends. On the drive home, they have a serious talk about what the future holds for them. (wedding, sweet!Dean, engagement)

          Seeing Double

In order to keep Chuck from suspecting that they’re searching for the Occultum, the reader and the Winchesters are forced to use the alternate universe versions of themselves as a diversion. Based on S15 E13 (Season 15 Spoilers!, AU!Sam, AU!Dean, AU!reader, confused!Sam, confused!Dean, confused!reader)

          Under the Weather

For the past few days, the reader has been really sick. Dean takes care of her. (sick!reader, sweet!Dean, fluff)

          Stress Relief

The reader sees her ex with the girl he left her for, and she gets a little pissed. When she’s taking out some of her frustrations on Dean, the conversation takes a sexual turn that she hadn’t been expecting. (smut, dom!Dean, angry!reader, rough sex)

          The Rescue

When Dean and the reader are on a hunt together, Dean dies because of a warlock’s hex bag. When the reader finds him dead, she has to perform CPR to bring him back. (angst, dead!Dean, panic, reader saves the day)

          Fateful Encounter

The reader has a dream involving a strange green-eyed man that she’s never met before. So, when she meets him and suddenly realizes that she knows his name, it becomes clear that the man had the same dream. (mystery kinda?, confused!reader, confused!Dean)

          Jealousy

The reader has to flirt with a man to get information for a case, and Dean doesn’t like it one bit. (jealous!Dean, irritated!Dean, frustrated!reader, awkward!Sam)

          What Could Still Be

Several years after the reader has left Dean, she is filled with regret as her best friend informs her that she cheated herself out of happiness. As fate would have it, though, Dean walks into that very bar. (angst, heartbroken!Dean, sad!Dean, ex!Dean, guilt)

          The Kiss

When the reader’s ex-boyfriend reaches out to her, she has to convince him that she has a boyfriend. He asks for a picture as proof, and Dean just happens to be around. (asshole ex-boyfriend, steamy, shirtless!Dean)

     (Last Updated: 10/02/20)

          Loud Arguments

After the reader saves Sam’s life on a hunt, they get in a fight, resulting in Sam saying some things he doesn’t mean. (slight angst, drunk!reader, angry!Sam, slight fluff)

          Please Don’t Leave Me

Sam and Dean allow the reader to go on a hunt by herself, and it doesn’t end well. (angst, sadness, grief, reader death, engagement)

          When We Start to Live Series: Part 1, Part 2 

When Sam is drunk one night, he confesses his feelings to the reader, leading to a relationship neither one of them was expecting.

[Status: Discontinued]

          Sleep-Deprived

Lately, Sam hasn’t been sleeping, and it’s putting everyone on edge. He mistakes the reader for an intruder when she comes home after a night at the bar with Dean. (slight angst, paranoid!Sam, worried!reader, fluff)

          Night Off

Sam decides to take the reader out for a surprise birthday dinner after they didn’t celebrate her birthday. (shameless flirting, implied smut, sexual innuendos, sweet!Sam)

          Hotel Impala

When there are no open rooms in the motel, the Winchesters and the reader have to stay in the Impala for the night. (fluff, slight mention of sex, Impala)

          Without Me

Sam starts drinking demon’s blood again, and the reader decides that leaving is going to be the best thing for him. (demon blood, angst, not a happy ending folks)

          Complications

The reader sits alone in the bathroom as she waits on a pregnancy test. (pregnant!reader, protective!Sam, angst)

          Lost Time

When facing an unusual monster, Dean calls the reader (Sam’s ex) for help, much to Sam’s dismay. (ruga-wolf, nerd!reader, sweet!Sam, protective!Sam)

          Late-Night Research

While doing some research for a case, the reader falls asleep in the bunker’s archives. Sam comes down to check on her and finds her sleeping. (lil bit of fluff, cute!Sam, tired!reader)

          Closure

Sam comforts the reader as she goes through the loss of a close friend. (angst, loss of a friend, heartbreak, comfort)

          Near-Death Experience

The reader goes on a hunt alone, and it’s been a while since Sam or Dean heard from her. After she almost dies, Sam confesses his feelings for her. (angst, confession of feelings, protective!Sam, wounded!reader)

          Perfect

For a long time, the reader has struggled with body issues. When she starts to feel bad about herself again, Sam is there to lift her up. (body insecurities, self-consciousness, fluff, triggers, anxiety)

          Bad Decisions

After a night of dancing (and a little bit of drinking), things start to get hot and heavy between Sam and the reader. (almost sex, making out, dancing)

          Lean On Me

After choosing to become a hunter, the reader leaves her family behind in order to keep them safe. After discovering the last remaining member of her family has died, she finds herself in the bunker’s library in the middle of the night. (angst, anxiety, grief, comfort)

          Going Under

On a very cold hunt, the reader falls in a frozen lake, and has to fight for her life. Luckily, Sam knows just how to warm her up. (hurt!reader, near-death experience, worried!Sam, protective!Sam, drowning, hypothermia)

          KO’d

Worried by the fact that the reader isn’t at the bunker when he gets back from a hunt, Sam follows her to Wyoming. (worried!Sam, unconscious!Sam, comedy)

          Take Me to Church

After hours of researching, the reader is feeling hopeless. Sam knows just how to get her mind off of it. (smut, humor, cunningless)

          Feelings For You

The reader wakes up hungover, not knowing where she is, and with a certain Winchester in bed next to her. Unfortunately, she can’t remember anything about the night before. (naïve Sam, oblivious!Sam, mentions of smut)

          Speechless

Posing as the FBI, Sam and Dean go to the reader’s apartment to ask her a few questions. Sam is caught off by her beauty and finds it hard to concentrate. (awkward!Sam, subtle flirting, shy!reader)

          The Colt

After being in disrepair for so long, the reader finally takes it upon herself to try and fix the Colt. Sam (Season 12 Spoilers!, sweet!Sam, badass!reader)

          Musically Inclined

Sam, Dean, and the reader investigate the case that brings them to Supernatural the Musical, and Dean is surprised to find out through the stage interpretation of their lives that Sam and the reader have been sleeping together. Based on S10 E5. (confused!Sam, confused!reader, irritated!Dean, implied smut)

          Five More Minutes

The reader is tired from overworking herself. When she sleeps through her alarm, Sam has to wake her up, scaring the bejesus out of her in the process. (sweet!Sam, fluff, sexual innuendos, stressed!reader)

          She’s Got This

When Sam hears the reader scream during a hunt, he assumes the worst. Little does he know, though, that she’s more than got it covered. (worried!Sam, protective!Sam, badass!reader)

          Remembrance

After Sam leaves Stanford without a trace, his girlfriend at the time, the reader, dedicates her life to a fruitless search of looking for him, only for him to reappear fifteen years later, when she’s finally given up. (Stanford!Sam, Stanford!reader, emotions, angst, hurt)

          Pizza Delivery

Between running on almost no sleep, being reminded that kids aren’t in the cards for her because of her hunter lifestyle, and dropping her pizza down the stairs, the reader is having one hell of a night. (exhaustion, slight angst, sweet!Sam)

          Close Call

The reader drowns on a hunt, and Sam has to perform CPR to bring her back. (near-death experience, worried!Sam, emotions)

     (Last Updated: 10/23/20)

          Demon-Killing Arrows

When Dean decides to blow off the reader’s plan, she has to save him, and ends up doing so in the most badass way possible. (slight angst, mild flirting [if you squint really hard], badass!reader)

          Saving People

When the reader saves Dean from being killed on a hunt, he begins to question her recklessness, leading to the revelation of her true emotions. (angst, anxiety, depression, slight mention of suicidal thoughts, feelings of helplessness, trigger warning)

          Three Years Later

Several years after being saved by the Winchesters from a nest of vampires, the reader has become a hunter, and calls Sam and Dean for their assistance on a case. (protective!Dean, protective!Sam, badass!reader, Djinn)

          Rock, Paper, Scissors

After helping the Winchesters on a hunt, the reader teases them about buying her a drink next time. (flirting, teasing)

          Long Way From Home

After Michael took off in Dean’s body, spirits are low. When driving home from investigating a dead-end lead, the reader attempts to cheer Sam up with some music. (Season 14 Spoilers!, angst, feelings of helplessness, slightly depressed!Sam)

          Post-Hunt Therapy

After a long hunt goes awry, the reader is looking forward to a night in with her ice cream, only to discover that Dean has already eaten it. (angry!reader, ice cream, nervous!Dean, comedy)

          I Promise

In the midst of an anxiety attack, one of the brothers is there to comfort the reader. (angst, anxiety, panic attack, trigger warning)

          The Time of My Life

The reader doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day and Dean doesn’t understand why. When he finally hears her reason, the brothers plan a surprise to cheer her up. (slight angst, sweet!Dean, sweet!Sam, Dirty Dancing)

          Blueberry Pancakes

The reader and Dean work together to make pancakes, but when a small argument gets in the way, a food fight breaks out. (food fight, Sam’s bitch face, arguments)

          Unfinished Business

The reader is Ketch’s twin, and goes with him to Save the Winchesters from the agents after them. Based on S12 E8. (Season 12 Spoilers!, British Men of Letters, British!reader, slight violence)

          What is to Come

The reader is a reaper assigned to keep an eye on Dean Winchester. Over time, the two have become close friends. One day, on a bad hunt, the reader has to make a decision of whether or not to intervene (against orders) and save Dean’s life. (gender neutral!reader, reaper!reader, slight violence)

          Unexpected: Part 1, Part 2

When Sam gets knocked out on a hunt, Dean has to come save the day. Little do they know that the woman who captures Sam isn’t even the demon they’re after. (badass!reader, reader knows nothing of monsters, protective!Dean, irritated!Dean)

          Home

The reader is feeling lonely when her two favorite Winchesters come to save the day and remind her that she’s part of their family. (the end, comfort fic, sad)

          Without a Scratch

When a case goes wrong, it’s up to the reader to evade the cops while making sure the impala goes unharmed. (speeding, police chase, risky driving, protective!Dean, Baby)

          Who Doesn’t Love Karaoke?

Dean is drunk and singing karaoke, and Sam and the reader are responsible for getting him home. (drunk!Dean, irritated!Sam, slightly irritated!reader)

          There’s Something About Y/N

After all the time spent hunting with Sam and Dean, the reader still doesn’t have an anti-possession tattoo. Unfortunately for her, a talisman is the only thing protecting her. (possession, possessed!reader, protective!Dean, protective!Sam)

          A Daughter’s Revenge

On a tragic night, the reader loses her entire family to a rogue pack of werewolves. She readies herself for revenge as she relives the memory. (angst, family death, grief, violence)

          Dinner Time

Sam and the reader are both trying hard to get Dean to eat better. unfortunately, he isn’t very willing to give up his burgers and fries. (grumpy!Dean, comedy, healthy eating)

          Hocus Pocus

When the boys need to summon a demon, Rowena gives them a spell to do so. When nothing happens, Sam and Dean are confused at first, but then they realize that they’ve summoned something else. (goddess!reader, confused!Sam, confused!Dean, comedy)

          Stolen Goods: Part 1, Part 2

The reader (Dean’s ex) constantly steals Dean’s clothes thinking he never notices. What she doesn’t know is that Dean has been snooping through her room looking for them. But when he finds something else, all hell breaks loose. (irritated!Dean, irritated!reader, embarrassed!reader, amused!Sam, stealing clothes, fanfiction within fanfiction, I’m making fun of myself)

[Status: Completed]

          Fright Night Mini-Series:

          Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

On Halloween, the reader is in for much more of an interesting experience than ever before. (slight angst, Halloween, mystery, werewolf!reader, werewolf cure)

[Status: Completed]

          Sleeping Beauty

Cursed by a witch, the reader is slowly being killed through what seems to be a sleeping curse. (Season 15 Spoilers!, angst, protective!Sam, protective!Dean, reader death)

          Out of Her Element

When the reader is somehow placed fifty years in the future, she has to learn to live a new life and leave her old one behind. (married!reader, time travel, heartbreak)

          Movie Night

Sam and Dean are in trouble, and it’s up to the reader to save them. unfortunately, they were after an arachne, and the reader has arachnophobia. (arachnophobia, movies, badass!reader, protective!reader)

          Breaking and Entering

After a long day at work, the reader comes home, ready to catch up on sleep. She’s awakened in the early hours of the morning, though, when someone breaks into her house. (awkward!Sam, scared!reader, tired!reader, baseball bat)

          Midnight Snack

Sam, Dean, and the reader all find themselves unable to sleep. When Dean finds out that the reader replaced his pie with cheesecake, though, he isn’t too happy. (cheesecake, humor, tired!Sam, tired!Dean, tired!reader)

          Reckless Abandon

After a risky choice to save a boy’s life on a hunt, Dean gets angry with the reader for being too reckless, which causes the reader to reveal that she once had a sister. (angst, arguing, angry!Dean, irritated!reader)

          Jailbird

The reader is awakened one night to find that Dean has been arrested, and he used his one call to call her. Unfortunately, things get complicated for two reasons: 1. their somewhat complicated past, and 2. the reader is a police officer at the station where Dean is being held. (irritated!reader, pissed!reader, cute!Dean, humor, Dean gets punched)

          A Drink With a Friend

Grieving for their lost friend, Sam and Dean honor the reader’s last wishes. (dead!reader, sad!Dean, sad!Sam, grieving, bittersweet)

          Grief

After the death of Sam and Dean Winchester, the reader has become an empty shell, and stopped taking care of herself. She runs from Castiel to avoid her grief, but he eventually tracks her down to bring her home. (grief, sad as FUCK, worried!Castiel, protective!Castiel, angst, sad, emotional hurt)

     (Last Updated: 07/31/20)

          Don’t You Dare

When the reader is fatally injured on a hunt, she agrees to let Billie reap her, so long as she is given time to say goodbye to her brothers. (sister!reader, angst, reader death, sadness)

          Hunter In Training

Wounded on a hunt she attempted to work solo, the reader’s brothers had to come rescue her. After seeing her so close to death, they become incredibly overprotective. (sister!reader, protective!Sam, protective!Dean, wounded!reader, comedy)

          The Talk

A young reader is along on a hunt with her two brothers, who are after a dragon. When the hunt is over with, Sam and Dean try to figure out why the dragon didn’t try to take her along with the other virgins. (sister!reader, protective!Dean, arguments, sex talk, comedy)

          Just Visiting

After a hunt gone awry, the reader asks her brothers if she can stay with them for a while, all while trying to avoid telling them that the police are hot on her tail. (irritated!Dean, protective!Sam, brotherly love)

          Helicopter Brothers

Sam and Dean finally agree to let the reader take on a hunt on her own. She’s excited to finally show them that she can handle herself, but when she realizes that they’ve been spying on her, she is not happy. (protective!Dean, protective!Sam, worried!Dean, worried!Sam, irritated!reader)

          Lay ‘Em Out

While on a case, the reader is sexually harassed in a bar while she is with her older brother Sam. When things escalate, he has to intervene, but the reader eventually knocks the guy out. (possible trigger warning, protective!Sam, badass!reader)

     (Last Updated: 12/24/18)

          Our Tree

The reader enjoys a quiet Christmas Eve in the apartment she shares with Jensen. (fluff, cute, dancing, sweet!Jensen, Christmas Eve)

     (Last Updated: 01/09/19)

          Blooper Reel

It’s a normal day on the set of Supernatural. The reader is trying to get through a serious scene, and J2 won’t stop horsing around. (joking around on set, bloopers, J2)

     (Last Updated: 04/08/18)

          You Are Not a Monster

When the reader is struggling with her first transformation under the full moon Stiles helps her to change back. (slight angst, fluff, confession of feelings, werewolf!reader, sweet!Stiles)

Shadow Play

Part 26 (generic quip about having no life) of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, my angst-tastic series about what would have happened if Gabriel had survived season 13.

Shoutout to Banjo the cat for helping me write this. She pressed many a random key with her paws, and voila. A fanfic. Thanks, Banjo.

Although Sam knew that Gabriel preferred to keep himself busy, there could be no denying an underlying sense of duty.

“You put up with me,” Gabriel had told him recently, with an air of factuality that twisted Sam’s stomach. “Come on, you can’t expect me to not pay my dues.”

Then he had gone back to his pile of crumbling manuscripts and continued to scrawl English translations onto a legal pad.

The attitude and dedication were not new, but Sam felt disturbed by how straightforward Gabriel could be about this sometimes: now and again, he spoke of his own burdensomeness with no emotion at all.

To Gabriel, Sam understood, that sense of being in the way could not have been more real. Once in a while, it seemed that he was simply trying to accept it - or, worse, that he already had.

One Saturday, early in the morning, Sam found Gabriel already in the library, poring over a stack of volumes which were organized in what looked to Sam like senseless chaos but which Gabriel seemed able to interpret - judging by the way he picked up one book, wrote something down, then leaned across the table to grab another and flip through its pages before readily picking up another book from what seemed an otherwise random location.

“Why are you up so early?” Sam asked Gabriel.

Gabriel did not look up from his work. “Why are you up so early, champ?”

“Are you, you know, all right?”

“Of course I’m all right.”

Sam waited for him to say more. When Gabriel remained silent, Sam said, “Yeah, okay,” and left.

He returned half an hour later with two cups of coffee from a few blocks away.

“Here,” he said, pushing one across the table.

Gabriel looked surprised. “Heya, what’s this, for me?”

“Yeah. You know that sort of upscale place a few blocks over?”

“If by ‘upscale place’ you mean ‘hipster meeting house,’ then yes.”

“Well, it’s a little overpriced, but it’s good stuff. I got you a cappuccino that might taste more like a milkshake based on how much sweet stuff I asked them to mix in. Seeing as you’ve been up since - ”

“Never mind how long I’ve been up. Thanks; that was nice of you. But I thought you didn’t like beverages in the library?”

“Yeah, not when my brother is the one with the beverage. Thanks for all the work you’ve been doing lately.”

Gabriel shrugged. Sam looked more closely at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Slowly, Gabriel lifted the cup and took a sip. “It’s pretty great.” But there was a peculiar expression on his face that, as Sam studied it, grew less peculiar and more familiar: the crease in his brow, the tightness of his lips.

“Gabe,” Sam said.

“What?” Now Gabriel’s eyes were bright and hyper-alert. “What is it?”

Sam sat down across from him. “Something’s bothering you, huh?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but please don’t lie.”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “I’m tired. Ever since that djinn managed to cop some archangel blood in Idaho last week, I’ve felt like I’m recovering from the flu or something.”

"If you're so tired, what are you doing up?"

Gabriel didn't answer.

Sam sighed. “It’s just us, you know. I don’t think anybody else is even awake.”

“Oh please, Cas doesn’t sleep.”

“Well, he’s not here right now, is he? Gabriel, please just don’t feel like you have to hide anything.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “There’s some stuff that’s hard to explain.”

“Maybe I can help if I have some idea of what’s going through your head.”

“Maybe. But it won’t make any more sense to you than it does to me.”

“Try me.”

“It’s not just that, though. It’s …” Gabriel struggled for a moment. “It’ll make me seem, um …”

Sam thought about suggesting an adjective - childish, psychotic, whiny - based on the laundry list Gabriel had already given him, but decided to wait instead. Sometimes, he observed, their conversations began as morbid rounds of Mad Libs.

“Ungrateful,” Gabriel finished.

Sam frowned. “For what?”

Gabriel avoided Sam’s eyes. “Everything. Asmodeus saw me as a Veruca Salt type. Never satisfied - always demanding more.” He swallowed, and Sam noticed that he had lost some color in his face. “Once in a while, though, he would surprise me with something nice. Food, or drink, or something to keep me warm. I guess maybe he wanted to prevent future bitching from his petulant toy.”

“I don’t know; sounds more like he was messing with you in some way, Gabriel.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I don’t think of you like that, you know. Neither does anyone else.”

“If I’d been good enough,” Gabriel continued, as though Sam had not spoken, “He wanted to spend time with me - or so he said. He used phrases like ‘good boy’ and ‘sweet pet’ and - well, sorry if you already had breakfast. Look, Sam, the thing is, there’s no pleasure like the pleasure of a beaten dog whose owner sidles in to stroke its bruised spine.” Gabriel paused. “Except you’d think I would never want him near me, wouldn’t you?”

Sam hesitated. “Well, yeah.”

“Mm-hmm. But there was so much relief in those moments - relief at finally seeing proof.”

Sam squinted. “Proof?”

“Proof that what he was saying to me was true. You know, that I was lucky to be there with him - because he was the only one who knew what was good for trash like me. And because he was the only one who knew what that trash was good for. It was a healthy reminder that if I wasn’t his plaything, I’d be useless. And …” Gabriel broke off, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing. “It was my rightful place, Sam. Well - I know now that it wasn’t, but how was I supposed to figure otherwise when I was still down there with him?”

Sam wondered if Gabriel really did know otherwise now, but dismissed the thought.

“And,” Gabriel barreled on, “The euphoria of his affection was always punctuated by a sense of - of ‘Don’t screw this up, Gabriel, not now that he’s shown he can love you.’ But of course I always did find a way to screw things up. There was no pleasing the guy for more than a handful of hours at a time.” Gabriel lowered his eyes, surveying the coffee cup in front of him. “I tried harder at that than I’ve ever tried at anything else, Sam. Chalk it up to having no grace, no power. Or … or maybe I was just that bad at being good enough.”

“Hey.” Sam softened his voice. “I didn’t bring you the coffee because I want you to do anything for me.”

“I get it, I get it; you’re no Asmodeus. You really think I deserve good things.” Gabriel’s smile was cold. “Sam, do you really want to know what shot through my head when you brought this in?”

Sam nodded.

“I - ” But Gabriel paused. Seconds ticked by. Then he said, “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense even to me.”

“Were you afraid, maybe?"

“I don’t think so, no.”

He was right, Sam thought: Gabriel did not look frightened. This time, there was something else laced through his features, something Sam had been meaning to bring up for a while.

Tentatively, Sam spoke. “Hey, um, Gabriel - do you remember that night a few weeks ago, where you woke up from the nightmare?”

“Oh, you mean that one nightmare I had that one night, that one time, amid countless hours of dreamless slumber?”

Sam sighed. “When you woke up screaming and everybody came running in.”

“No, Sam. Please, paint a more vivid picture so I can add it to my scrapbook.”

“Well, do you remember how I asked you if you … you know … if you missed Asmodeus?”

Gabriel bristled. “Yes. I remember that.”

“I mean …”

Gabriel kept his gaze averted.

“Gabriel,” Sam said quietly, “Sometimes I have the sense you wish that … that he could be the one to come and help. Not me.”

Gabriel shut his eyes. “Do you have any idea how that makes me sound?”

“Um … sad?”

“No. Thankless.”

“You’re still worried about being ungrateful?”

“Uh, yeah, no shit.”

“I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong. I get it - sort of. I mean, he did give you everything you had, right?”

Gabriel barked what sounded less like laughter and more like a shriek of terror. “And he made mighty sure I knew it. Sam, I don’t want Asmodeus - I want you.”

In that moment, Sam thought he finally understood why Gabriel was disturbed and disgusted by the word “want.” There was something horrendously, nauseatingly powerful about how it sounded coming from Gabriel's mouth.

“Look,” said Gabriel, “It’s just - I - his love was in short supply, and he wasted it on me time and again, and I - I let him down.”

“He didn’t love you, Gabriel.”

“Don't, Sam. Don't say that, all right? I don’t like when you tell me he didn't love me.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe, but it’s true. You can’t think of his treatment as love.”

Gabriel turned away, but not before Sam saw tears in his eyes.

“Crap,” Sam whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you to think that the way he handled you is the way you deserve to be treated, that’s all.”

Gabriel shook his head and muttered something.

“What?” asked Sam.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Um - I failed him.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I tried to be enough.” Gabriel seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Sam now. “I tried to be worth what he was offering.”

Sam reached out and took Gabriel's hand. It was an old gesture of comfort, one that Gabriel almost never rejected - and he didn’t now. “Can you listen to me for a second?”

Without looking at him, Gabriel nodded.

“You could tell me anything at this point, I think - and we’d find a place for it in everything else we’ve had to work through. Okay? If you came to me to say you hate him or miss him or whatever - I mean, I never felt anything like that for Lucifer. I can’t say I ever once felt like I missed him. But all that means is that Lucifer is different from Asmodeus, and I’m a little different from you.”

“Sure, if by ‘different’ you mean - ”

“I don’t mean ‘better.’ I mean different.” Sam squeezed his hand, half-hoping that Gabriel would reciprocate and feeling disappointed when he didn’t. “You need to let me know what’s going through your head even if I might not totally get it. I’m - I’m a little confused, maybe, but not shocked. I don’t have expectations about what you’re going to feel. Whatever you’ve got going on is just part of everything else, okay? Please just - just don’t be scared to bring it up. Even if you were to come to me and tell me you hated me, we could make it fit. We could figure it out.”

All at once, Gabriel went white and jerked his hand out of Sam’s. “I don’t hate you!”

Sam blinked, startled.

“I don’t hate you!” Gabriel repeated. “In what universe would I claim to hate you? Where did that come from?”

“Nowhere! I’m just saying you could confess something super weird and we’d still - ”

“I don’t hate you! Do you think I hate you?”

“No, Gabriel. That’s not what I think.” Sam tried to sound soothing, but the truth was that Gabriel’s reaction might be the exception: Sam was not, in that moment, sure how to incorporate it into the bigger picture.

“I didn’t want to make you think I hated you,” Gabriel insisted. “Jesus, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you about this; I didn’t want to say anything because Dad knows it makes me sound like the spoiled brat Asmodeus always told me I was!”

“Gabriel - ”

“Missing him is betraying you, and I know that; but not missing him is betraying him! Not that I’m worried about that, but - or I am, I think; I mean, I shouldn’t be, but - see, paying any mind to his feelings is pointless, but those moments of - of peace or safety or love or - Sam, they were important.”

“Okay. Hey, hey, listen, buddy - this isn’t about what you owe me. That was your home for a long time, so I get where you’re coming from. Home is home, even if it sucks. Don’t be so angry with yourself over it.”

“Please don’t use that word.” Gabriel’s voice trembled. “Please - don’t try and talk to me about home, okay? Because sometimes I think I want to go home, and then I remember that I have no clue where home is supposed to be - in Hell, maybe, as ludicrous as that sounds; or I guess having no home at all feels more like home than anything else.”

“Wait,” Sam interjected, “You think you don’t have a home?”

“Ah.” Gabriel held up a hand. “Pause. Footnote: there is no consensus among the many factions of my conscience as to whether I have an obligation to make this my home, or if I owe it to all of you to resist the temptation to let myself feel any such thing.”

Before Sam could reply, a new expression passed over Gabriel’s features, one that could not have been mistaken for anything but grief. His face took on the taut, ruddy sadness that Sam had only ever witnessed at memorials.

Slowly, Sam shook his head. “You don’t owe us that. Or anything else.”

Gabriel wiped his eyes. “Yeah, Sam. I do.”

“And you shouldn’t expect yourself to be able to pilot what you do and don’t feel about Asmodeus.”

“I’m not allowed to hope that things will at least make sense? No, of course not. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I expect everybody else to know. Obviously I anticipate that you’ll have all the answers. Another example of just how right he could be about me.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Yeah. Spoiled brat, remember?”

“Gabriel, dude … you start going on about yourself like that, you’ll get worked up.”

“Because as you can clearly see, I couldn’t be any damn calmer.” Gabriel scrubbed a hand forcefully, violently, back and forth against his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m stating facts. Picture it: me, feeling anything like grief for him when I have so much more now? That tells you more about me than you should ever have to know. It speaks volumes. Nothing is ever good enough for me, and - and I’m not good enough to make up for always wanting more.”

Sam could now recognize the warning signs in Gabriel’s face - harbingers of delirious panic brought on by memories too heavy to swallow. He saw the pallor, the beads of sweat, the clenched jaw, and owlishly bright eyes.

“Calm down,” he told Gabriel, trying to sound firm without posing a threat. “You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t. Okay?”

“Hmm,” Gabriel offered.

“You’re safe, Gabe. You have to remember that.”

“You know what pisses me off more than anything else right now? What really, really pisses me off?”

“Yeah?”

“That I’ve already got myself too damn sick to even try drinking the coffee you brought. So there you have it; you’ve wasted time and resources on an undeserving son of a - ”

“You can have it later, when you’re ready.”

“I was happy to have it, and then I just - I - I went and screwed things up again.”

“You really didn’t.”

“Sam …” Gabriel lowered his head and ran both hands through his hair. “I … man, I like to think I have more good days than bad. Since imagination is fun and healthy, and I love to walk the deliciously tender line between being an optimist and being a bullshitter.”

“Nobody’s keeping tabs on how many bad days you have. And backsliding is normal. Not ideal, I guess. But normal enough.”

Gabriel snorted. “Great. Feels good to know that everything happening right now is par for the course and I should just roll with it. Sam, this does not feel like it should be normal. Ever. In any context.”

“Then let it be a new version of normal."

“Jesus Christ,” Gabriel muttered. “You know what, Sammy? Let me tell you something about this ‘new normal.’”

“I’m listening.” Truthfully, however, Sam was not sure he wanted to hear. Gabriel didn't sound like he intended to offer any uplifting anecdotes.

“The other night,” Gabriel began, “I had another stupid dream. But this time we’re talking actually stupid, okay? Not just bad, but total gibberish. And when I jerked awake after this circus, I tried to talk myself down: ‘You know your crippled semi-human psyche is playing unpalatable games with itself. Relax, sergeant; take a breath and shimmy your sorry ass back into the present.’ Well, guess freakin’ what, Sam? It didn’t work. I felt frozen and sick and terrified, no matter how hard I wrestled with myself over it. I was so scared just by this flash fiction that had nothing to do with anything at all.”

“What was it?” Sam asked apprehensively.

“A piece of crummy abstract art. There was a shadow on the wall, some formless dark shape with a whole slew of possible identities. One second I felt like maybe I was seeing Dean, then Castiel, and even Jack for a split second there. Not you, though - never you.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, absolutely fabulous. Except that that meant I wanted you. I wanted you immediately. I had this feeling that each one of the others was evil, corrupt, gruesome - hungry for some Gabriel meat. So when I woke up, all I wanted was you. I wanted you so damn much, Sam.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. “Why didn’t you come get me, then?”

“Well, because all through this titillating romp into dreamland, I was thinking that as much as I was dying to call for help, I had no right to pester you. You didn’t need extra demands from your pesky houseguest. The last thing you deserved - and before you get on my case about it, this is just what was going through my head as I was dreaming; I couldn’t stop it - was Little Orphan Archangel to come whining to you about how the people you loved and trusted were out to get me.”

“I wouldn’t have - ”

“So when I woke up, you think I was ready to drag you into my umpteenth midnight meltdown? You needed sleep. And me, having no dignity, no control, not an ounce of self-respect - I curled up in bed and started bawling and then I squealed your name over and over again into my knees as if I expected your spidey senses to tingle and you’d come to rescue me from my own dadforsaken self. But there was also a very real possibility - or at least it felt real, you’ve got to understand that - that I’d go looking for you, and you’d be rightfully pissed off that I hadn’t allowed this shadow bitch to take me away.”

Sam stood up. Alarm flickered across Gabriel’s face. But then Sam crouched in front of him and said, “That kind of thing, Gabe? That kind of thing where you’re actually hurting yourself just to save face, or because you have it in your head that you shouldn’t be allowed access to compassion?” He cleared his throat in a hasty attempt to keep himself together. “That counts as an emergency. Always. Even if it happens ten times a day.”

Gabriel looked discomfited. “Sam - ”

“Don’t sit there and let him do that to you. Please. When that happens, you need help and you can’t afford to pretend you can wait for it.”

“I - ” Gabriel turned his face away. “Sam - ”

“What? What about that sounds so impossible to you?”

“It’s - it’s like I’ve said, I can’t live up to what you’re looking to get from me.”

“Gabriel, for the last time, I’m not looking for you to give me anything!”

“No, you are; you want me to heal, and I don’t know if I can. I certainly don’t have it in me right now - not yet.” Sam saw tears in his eyes. “And I’m sorry for that. I’m a tough nut to crack open and I get that. I exhaust you, though. Now, that’s partly on you for feeding into this idea that you can make me better, but mostly I’m just a difficult patient. I keep fighting your efforts.”

“You’re not putting up a fight with me. You’re fighting Asmodeus.”

“Oh yeah? If I’m working so hard to get him off my conscience, then riddle me this: why the hell should I feel anything other than total revulsion for him? Why is it that I think to myself, ‘I’m terrified and alone and I hope he shows up to help’? I couldn’t justify that if you paid me. And you can’t make this shit up, Sam. This is raw nonsense straight from the mind of a lost cause.”

“You’re allowed to grieve. I can’t say I understand; I haven’t been there. But it isn’t weird that you’d miss him sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it wouldn’t be weird if you didn’t happen to be around.”

“You had him for hundreds and hundreds of years. And he was the only thing you had. He was everything to you.”

Gabriel groaned. “When you put it that way, it sounds so gross. It really does.”

“You can’t just replace everything you had with something new, and expect it to feel like home. At least not right away.”

Gabriel kept his gaze averted. No further tears had spilled from his eyes, although Sam could tell that, if Gabriel was going to put up a real fight, it was in response to the urge to cry.

“Please,” Sam said. “Please don’t keep yourself locked away when you wake up like that, or when you feel like something’s wrong. I’m right here; we’re all right here. We’ll connect the dots where we can, okay? But come on - I mean, who even really cares? It’s a language - sort of. Or not. Maybe just a bunch of made-up words that we can use to create a language of our own. Can we look at it that way?”

Gabriel jerked his head - not quite a nod, not quite a refusal. “Impressively well fleshed-out for an improvised metaphor, Sam.”

“I really hate the picture you just painted. I hate that you didn’t go looking for someone, anyone, just because you were afraid of being a nuisance.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I - Sam, I couldn’t get anybody else. It had to be you.”

“So I would’ve helped you.”

“And are you forgetting the very real possibility that it could have reminded you of your own experience in the pit?”

“I guess it could have, sure. It didn’t just now. But even if it did, can we maybe not pay that any attention unless it actually becomes an issue? For now, I want you to worry about yourself - not about me.”

“Perfect. Seeing as I’ve been provided explicit instructions to avoid worrying about you, it’s smooth sailing from here on out. Thanks, Sam. Now I don’t have to concern myself with whether or not you’re keeping your own head above water. And if the message isn’t clear, let me translate: shut up and let me care about you, you self-effacing dingleberry.”

“I’m serious. In moments like that, you have to put everything else on hold; you’ve got to look for help first thing. Like I said, it’s an emergency. Imagine if it were Jack. You’d want to - ”

“Stop right there. Don’t put that image in my head, and don’t compare Jack to me. He’s an entirely different species, Sam, and I’m not just talking about his human DNA.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“He’s not me, he’s nothing like me; there’s nothing wrong with that kid. I don’t even like that he has to breathe the same air as me - so don’t insult him by pretending like the two of us deserve the same treatment.” Gabriel’s face was flushed. “And now I can’t shake that scenario you just threw into my brain and it’s making me feel like I have to puke.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam told Gabriel, and meant it: he didn’t like the vision either. After a moment’s consideration, he decided not to address some of the more problematic themes wrapped in Gabriel’s protestations. So he went on, “It doesn’t matter to me how many times you find yourself in that position, okay? It’s just as important if it happens once a week or every night for a month, Gabriel. I promise one of us can help, and if it has to be me then get me right away. Text me if you have to; I keep my phone next to my bed. You won’t get better if you keep this up. You won’t heal if you let these feelings just rot inside of you.” Sam’s knees were aching from his crouched position, so he stood up again and sat back down, this time in the chair beside Gabriel’s. “You don’t need to abuse yourself the way he did. Asmodeus wasn’t giving you love or anything else that you needed. And now you’re hurting yourself more by throwing away the real thing because you think you shouldn’t have it.”

Gabriel’s face was hard and closed-off, but the tears finally slipped free and he turned further away in a limp attempt to conceal them.

Not even sure where the question was coming from, or why he was asking it, Sam said: “What’s scaring you?”

He anticipated silence, or a tense “Nothing.” So he was taken aback when Gabriel replied, “I’m waiting for your speech. Your tactful ‘you and I both know it’s time for you to leave the Bunker’ speech.”

Sam balked. “Excuse me?”

“No one’s accusing you of intent to actually do it,” Gabriel told him. “I’m just answering the question: that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’m not - ”

“I know. I’m still scared of it, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Nobody here wants you to leave. Especially not me. I want you to stick around until you get sick of us.” Sam wondered if Gabriel could hear the tightness in his own throat. “I’m not changing my mind about that because you feel like you miss Asmodeus; I can be better than he was.”

“You think I don’t know that already? I’m sad, not simple. But that's just the issue: you’re providing your best, and I’m not taking it like I should be. Come on, doesn’t it make you feel just a little bit unappreciated to hear me say ‘I wish Asmodeus could be here to help’?”

“No, but it makes me worry about how bad he screwed with your mind.”

Gabriel didn’t reply, and Sam didn’t press him. In the distance, he could hear people moving around - probably Dean getting coffee, or Jack getting cereal, or both of them.

“Listen,” Gabriel said finally, “I hope you know I can see the difference. You’re not him; you couldn’t be any less like him. You’d never, ever do to me what he did to me, and I hate that, and I love that. It’s just that he did give me something - something I don’t know how to describe, if it wasn’t love. I wish he hadn’t played those games with me, but he did; he played them like they were guitar picks and I was an out-of-tune six-string. And you’ve gotta understand - what was I supposed to do, you know? When I got those glimpses of kindness? How could I not give in and just - just be happy about them? How could I not be scared to death that he would change his mind? And how could I not hate everything about myself when he inevitably made it clear that that kindness had been a mistake?”

Sam realized he couldn’t speak, so he only nodded.

“But,” Gabriel pleaded, “I don’t want him. I don’t want Asmodeus, Sam; I want you.”

Sam swallowed. “Good. Because I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “Hey - since you’re in the swing of it, what else do you want right now?”

Gabriel leaned away. “What?”

“Right now. What do you want? Tell me.”

Gabriel floundered. “I - um. Nothing.”

Sam waited.

“Um,” Gabriel stammered, “The coffee, I guess.”

Sam passed it to him. “Might be cold.”

“I don’t care. But, uh - ”

“You want something else?”

“No.”

“You were going to ask.”

“I …” Gabriel shuddered. Sam had the urge to wrap a blanket around him. Perhaps after this he would offer to take him back to Sam’s own bedroom and let him get a few hours of sleep there.

Gabriel opened his arms.

"Oh," said Sam, and leaned forward.

Gabriel didn't speak, but he did relax into the embrace.

That was all the thanks Sam could have asked for.

Interview with a Witcher

Geraskier Fanfic  - Geralt X Jaskier - Drama - Romance - based of games and tv series - Future plot - When a Vampire shows up in Novigrad, things at the theatre get more dramatic as Geralt and Jaskier explore their feelings for each other.

The wild plains of Redania were filled with monsters, and corpse eaters as Geralt of Rivia travelled to the city. Jaskier, his long-time friend and ally had opened a cabaret in the city. A tavern once called the Rosemary and Thyme had transformed into the lavish theatre known as the Chameleon. It has been one year since the theatre opened and Geralt headed to the anniversary show — a grand performance to make up for the cancellation of the opening night. Priscilla, Jaskier long-time girlfriend and the fellow bard had recovered from her injuries and even though the assailant who attacked her was never found she was ready to perform. Geralt had hoped Ciri would make it in time for the show at weeks end, but since she became a full-fledged witcher herself, she would frequently run off on her own. Geralt was starting to worry since she should have arrived by now, the Wild Hunt was gone, but powerful monsters remained, and the political order was getting heated again. Geralt constantly reminded of the dangers on the road after fighting off an ancient forest spirit whose head was currently strapped to his saddle. The bloody antlers were catching the attention of the guards while he crosses the gate into the main strip. Roach trudged up to a three-story theatre house draped in red. A group of performers out front were singing and dancing to greet them. "Toss a coin to your witcher." They started singing, and Geralt let out a long exasperated sigh as he manoeuvred Roach up to the watering trove. Once he dismounted Geralt felt the strain of his injuries which cause a limp in his gait as he walked up to the doors tired from little sleep. The joyous tune of his song making him smile despite his best efforts to conceal it.

"Welcome back, Geralt!" "Nice to see you, a witcher." "Have you come to the show!?" Their voices called for his attention.

Inside the theatre, on the second floor, Jaskier glanced out the window hearing the commotion outside and spotted his comrade. "Geralt's here!" he cheered, "The letter said he would be here two days ago." Jaskier excitedly rushed down the stairs and out the door his arms open in welcome. "Geralt, you made it!" he exclaimed, "Good to see you, Jaskier." Geralt replied as he came in for a hug. "Part of me was expecting you not to show up, but the rest of me knew you would not be able to resist… oh my lord, what is that smell?" Jaskier attempted to pull Geralt into a hug but stopped just short as he noticed not only the foul stench but also his tired eyes. Geralt's arm flinched when Jaskier touched him, fresh injuries which stained his armour red. "I'm fine." Geralt said to quell Jaskier worried expression. "Come follow me, let us find you a place to sit and relax. You must be hungry, and I have plenty of delights to fill the empty belly of a hero who has come home." Jaskier excitedly lead Geralt into the Chameleon, "Tell me where you have been what have you seen where did you go? I want to know all!"

"Well, recently I travelled to Skellig. Took up a few monster contracts including a Leshen that had made its territory near a small village, the elders believed it to be a god protecting them, but it would hunt and kill those who tried scavenging in the forest. One of the elders wanted me to perform a ritual to please it, but the rest of the townsfolk paid me to kill it." Geralt started his story as they walked into the theatre decorated with tasteful paintings and elegant art. Jaskier was dodging around tables even though his nose was down in a book. Pictures of the mummers, lord and ladies of note and show posters lining the walls along with a few coats of arms. A banquet of food set out as the many patrons picked from the buffet as they drank merrily together. "This place is amazing." Geralt motioned impressed with what a high-class establishment Jaskier owned. Jaskier however, was distracted by Geralt story while scribbling down notes before being snapped out of it.

"Isn't it?" Jaskier beamed with a flourish of his pillowed sleeve proudly."  I'm excited about the show I have been working on it for months!" Jaskier exclaimed and showed Geralt his notes as he fixed a tilted frame on the wall. "It has been a while since I heard one of your… stories." Geralt said in his monotone voice looking at the inventory list in Jaskier's book along with story ideas in the bottom corner. They went to the back and sat at a private table. "Alas, not everyone thinks my stories are so great." Jaskier sighed and offered Geralt a seat sitting directly across from him with interlaced fingers, pensively looking at his notebook. "What works better? If a frog is a prince, would he be wearing a crown or wearing a cape?" Jaskier asked while a barmaid served them a round of ales. Geralt quickly picked his up and chugged it in one long swig. "Why do you ask?" Geralt suspiciously asked with a belch as the bard pondered.

"Just curious, minor play details listen, I know you're tired, but I have one, teensy, tiny, little favour to ask. It's to help the show," Jaskier pleaded. "I just sat down." Geralt said as he thumped the glass onto the table. His face twisted with annoyance but Jaskier innocently eyed Geralt. The Witcher bites his cheek, "ugh, What is it?," he sighed in defeat and crossed his arms on the table.

"Don't tell me you're in trouble again? Is this another bandit heist to swindle another rich lady?" Geralt asked a little sarcastically as he took Jaskier's ale this time and sipped it. He was getting the hiccups from drinking too quickly each jolt, making him wince in pain. "Much worse," Jaskier exclaimed. He leaned forward getting closer to Geralt. "A new King came to town and then completed slaughtered my dream with a bad review! I wasn't paying him much mind when he arrived six months ago, but his opinions seem to be detracting patrons from the district entirely. Madam Irina is struggling to fill the seats because of his crass, thuggish, bullying antics."

Jaskier's voice was a low whispered hiss as he spoke. "I feel if you were to have a word with him, he might change his tune. If the great Geralt of Rivia could maybe 'persuade' him into giving me another chance?" Jaskier said full of bravado. "That's it?" Geralt asked, curious when the twist was going to come. "You just want me to talk to some snub nose King who insulted you?" Geralt tried to hold his breath now since the hiccups were getting worse and he didn't want to look like a pansy who couldn't handle his drink because of a broken rib. "He said my work was boring and derivative. It's affecting my business and my sanity! W-wait wait Geralt are you alright?" A concerned look crossed Jaskier's face as he noticed Geralt holding his breath. He flagged down the barmaid. "Can you get him some water please?" Jaskier called out as Geralt held his clenched fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed that Jaskier noticed. "Thanks, it's nothing just a couple new scars," he said with his eyes cast down and sipped the water that the barmaid quickly brought over. "Have you tried writing something the King would like?" Geralt asked but stared at Jaskier's over-expressive face now stunned with horror. "I—- I— hmph!" he fumed, a slight blush crossing his checks "How dare you to assume I have not tried. The man is an unreasonable Buffon." Jaskier glared. "Please Geralt, I need your help, he's a complete monster." Jaskier ranted as Geralt raised an eyebrow. "I'm not joking, he is!" Jaskier said rather loudly before looking around at the witcher hunters who were currently chatting with Zoltan. "I think he is a vampire," Jaskier stated in a whisper.

"Don't be unreasonable! Less you see how gossip is the poison that spews from your mouth. You can't just go around accusing people of vampirism in the middle of the city of Novigrad. Do you know how many witch hunters are out there looking for a reason to kill someone?" Geralt got rather mean, as much as Jaskier's antics could get out of hand. Vampirism was a serious matter, but there was a look in Jaskier eye that Geralt could read to be true. The brunette's pleading eyes were wide like a dog begging for attention. Geralt huffed and covered his face by combing his fingers through his hair. A small blush of his own, he willed away before his pale skin betrayed him to show emotion. "What do you want me to do?" Geralt asked, knowing there was no sense of debating the matter. "I assume you have a plan? Does this King Lucifer seem like a man who has found a seat of authority over you? What's his deal? You know I have grown wiser to the antics of politics. I have been introduced to him the more powerful faces in town, including the big four." Geralt said, rather proudly. Jaskier furrowed his brow, "Ever since Whoreson Junior went missing the criminal empire had been all a buzz when the Great La'Croix family moved to town. They say he is King of a faraway land escaping monsters that ravaged their home. Lucifer is rich, and I want to invite him to the show. The big four are no more since Lucifer has been winning hearts everywhere he goes. All I need is one more chance to impress him, to be on his good side as I sing his praises while Redania takes Nilfgaard. I can't go alone either… as I said, the man is a monster. It wouldn't be safe! The wolves and bats are enough to hint it's a dangerous place and you taught me to steer clear of that shit." Jaskier stopped the mid-story to see the grim expression on Geralt's face." Truth be told I did tried to go through inviting Lucifer on my own but could never bring myself to reach the estate out of the sheer fear he was going to eat me or worse dismiss my talents to my face this time, but if you are with me. I know he won't refuse."

"So send him a paper invite? Why do we have to go to him in person if he is this dangerous?" Geralt asked, if Lucifer was a vampire, Geralt needed to investigate. "I've tried, I think he has some sort of alliance with King Radovid in the efforts against Emperor Emhyr. He's proud, secluded and off the grid with a fleet of his own. Such a common invitation would insult him further, He needs to know I care about his opinion and respect. Lucifer is still a King even though he isn't at home." Jaskier sighed, feeling a little defeated. "If what you say is fact and not some overblown fiction, you shouldn't even go over there. Give me an invitation, and I'll go alone. Where is the estate?" Geralt asked and pulled out his map and spread it out on the table so Jaskier could point it out. Geralt loudly yawning as Jaskier circled a mountain on the coast with a pencil. The booze made Geralt tired, and the fresh wounds from his last fight had barely healed, and he reeked of seaweed and rotten fish. "Don't be silly, I'm coming, and that's final plus this should be a trip for the morning. You need a bath first," Jaskier stated and took a few strands of Geralt's dirty, white hair between his fingers and made a face. "Thanks, I hadn't noticed." Geralt said with a comedic sneer. "Maybe a nap too," Jaskier added when Geralt glared back at his cheeky smile. "You will be rested, fed and presentable to deliver the invitation as well as a sample what fortune's favour has granted me." Jaskier popped a few grapes in his mouth as he winked. "I don't need a nap!" Geralt said but was betrayed when another yawn hit him, so he punched the table knocking the candelabra over. Geralt quickly snapping his fingers making all the flames extinguish as the candles broke and scattered about on the floor. "Dammit fine! Where's the bath!?" he asked, causing a bit of scene. It was out of character, but it had been a long time since they were together. For some reason, the conversation was revolving around diplomacy and bureaucracy when usually Jaskier wanted to know more about Geralt's adventures. Geralt waited for Jaskier to stand and lead the way to the upper floors but they sat there for a quiet moment as Jaskier studied him. "You're a bit more boorish than normal, are you sure everything is okay or am I not allowed to ask?" Jaskier crossed his arms waiting for an apology. "It's nothing. I'm just sore." Geralt finished his ale with a chug and fell back into his chair like a grumpy bear. "Nothing? Knocking a flower pot over is nothing. It seems like you uprooted an entire tree." Jaskier commented making the same face as the life-size portrait behind him. Geralt finally noticing the audacious mural of Jaskier wearing pumpkin pants while slaying a dragon. He then stood up abruptly making the glasses on the table shudder before he peeled open a gash in his armour. There was more than one wound Jaskier was made aware of as Geralt's armour had been sundered. "Ooof, and you won this fight, right?" Jaskier shuddered at the sight. "Against the Leshen, yes." Geralt said and exited the table and headed upstairs not waiting anymore.

Up the stairs, Geralt entered a beautiful hallway decorated with masks and drapery which lead to a spacious suite with couches and a hookah. The inn rooms transformed into cabaret stage where musicians sat around playing songs rehearsing and reciting poetry. It was a marvel to behold at how much had changed in a year. "Hi, Geralt!" "Hey, baby!" "When am I going to get my solo?" A group of dancers waved and shouted to get their attention. Geralt recognized some of them and motioned back sheepishly. Jaskier was stumbling over a couch out of place. "Oi! Get this place cleaned up my Guests are arriving and this place looks like a nekkers nest. Maybe when you can prove you are more than children, you will get a chance at a solo." Jaskier let out an exasperated sigh.

Once at the top level, Geralt spotted Pricilla sitting in the bedroom with the door open. Her beautiful voice was humming songs while her back to them. Jaskier picked up his pace and brought Geralt to their bathroom, a spacious place with stone and tiled floors with a rather elaborate tub sitting under a draped window. The same red and brown colour scheme in the towels and a gold candelabra which Geralt lite with his magic. "Oh, thank you!" Jaskier exclaimed. "Not going to lie, this is such a nice house." Geralt crossed his arms and looked around the room. "Do you like it?" Jaskier asked with a proud smirk before busied himself to get the water prepared. Geralt took his time to investigate the stonework and tapestries in the room. Jaskier hummed a tune and shoved some fragrant soaps into the Witcher's hands. "Now get undressed and wash, you smell like you've spent the night in a bucket of fish heads!" Jaskier tuts wagging his finger as he prepares a towel.Geralt fumbled with all the loose knick-knacks Jaskier handed him and set them down, one of the delicate vials of lavender oil falling off the chair which Geralt caught it mid-air. "Okay, okay!" Geralt said as he removed his elegant swords from his back. Once free of the restrictive leather armour Geralt stretched out before peeling off his black cotton tunic. The wounds had closed, but the raw skin still healing and tender. Jaskier darted around the room in distraction, so Geralt snuck upon him. Now able to silently creep in his bare feet until he was right behind Jaskier, who didn't notice him peeking over his shoulder into the drawer. "Do you have enough towels?" Geralt asked his lips right next to Jaskier's ear. "Ge—Geralt!" Jaskier shrieked, jumping a little. The bard startled, as he spun around with towels in hand to face with Geralt and his lack of clothing. Jaskier should have expected this, but he was still surprised by it as he scanned the hunky man in front of him. Geralt's broad, muscular chest scruffy with hair and scarred with residual dried blood. He was getting an up-close and personal look at some nasty looking wounds that were still trying to heal. Jaskier tried not to stare at Geralt even though he had seen him naked before. This time, his body was riddled with scars so many he could not count. The fresh scabs on his chest looked like something had crawled into Geralt's skin and back out again near his ribcage and neck. Geralt followed Jaskier gaze to the wound and he covered it with his arm. "You know I've missed you, right?"

Geralt asked before briskly walking away to the tub to start unbuckling his dagger belt. Geralt looking over his shoulder as he put his dagger down and caught Jaskier's eye while he was removing his pants. Jaskier could feel the heat in his cheeks as he met Geralt's gaze, but he could not look away. "I missed you, too. Things have not been nearly as interesting without you around," he said, trying to sound calm but ultimately failing. Jaskier was drifting his gaze away and fixating on Geralt's back muscles as he climbed into the tub completely naked. The entire time Geralt had not looked away from Jaskier and sunk into the cloudy water to hide. "Mandarine and Rose petals? You're spoiling me." Geralt said. "You must want to impress this, Vampire?" Geralt question as Jaskier started to get flustered. "I want his approval. Lucifer has too much influence." He huffed, "I'm also the one that has to smell you this week so of course, I would rather you smell of roses than monster guts." "Why do you care so much about how I smell?" Geralt said as he held his breath and ducked under the water entirely. He was scrubbing his face and hair while aggressively splashing about in the tub, making a mess. Jaskier watched on in horror. "No! Just no!" He grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub and poured some into his hand. "Stop, stop," he commanded and stood behind Geralt and took ahold of his hair, "You're hurt. Let me help." Jaskier sighed and started lathering up Geralt's hair. "Hey!" Before he could fight, Jaskier's fingers were already entangled in his ashen locks massaging his scalp. "You don't have to do that." Geralt said and leaned into his hands. The soft sigh from his chest one of pleasure as Jaskier's nimble fingers relaxed him almost immediately. The content smile on his face, Jaskier noticed while washing his hair lovingly. An awkward silence between them for a beat.

"Can I ask you something?" Geralt blurted out to break the silence. "How are things with you and Pricilla? Everything you had hoped from a settled-down life?" Geralt asked, getting rather personal. Jaskier thought for a moment about Geralt's question. "We've been alright… Having Priscilla back from the hospital has been a joy, but her range has changed, she's more of an alto now. I've had to rewrite a few songs for her," Jaskier said as he started rinsing the stubborn blood and dirt away to reveal the pure ashy white colour of Geralt's hair. "Yennefer and I… well… I broke things off. For good this time. Other than that Ciri's doing great as a Witcher, A born naturally, I can barely keep up with her. She took down a gryphon on her own." Geralt sounded glad, but it was always hard to gleam his mood. Especially with how quickly he changed topic away from Yennefer. The revelation of Geralt relationship with Yennefer and how it was all over quickly skipped before Jaskier could respond. His fingers had stopped moving as he lost himself, but almost as soon as he finished, Jaskier started again. The silence of the moment beginning to get awkward. "Ciri is a good kid. I miss her every day… I am sorry to hear about you and Yennefer," he commented. The way Geralt slumped his shoulders and fiddled with the rose petals in the water, crushing them in his fingers one by one. It was clear Geralt wanted to talk more, he usually likes the silence, but the awkward pause was excruciating. Geralt pulled his head away from Jaskier. "It's fine, you know I think I can handle the rest of this myself," he said, realizing the tension in the air. "You must have some sort of business to handle downstairs." Geralt said trying not to look at his friend. "Things downstairs can wait a moment. You aren't telling me something. I thought you were in love with Yennefer." Jaskier pressed.

"I'm sorry I told you it would be a blessing to have you taken off my hands." Geralt blurted out rather loudly as if he was arguing. Jaskier's face fell as he rinsed his hands. That memory has been pushed away for many years, but the pain of heartbreak was still fresh. He would be more upset if Geralt weren't bringing it up to apologize, but it didn't make the conversation hurt any less. "I guess that's as close to an apology I'd ever get from you…" Jaskier's voice was quiet. Geralt went redder than a burnt pig in the sun, and he spun around in the tub to face Jaskier. "I am so sorry! That's not how I wanted to say that!" He panicked and stood up to meet him. Then immediately sat back down, forgetting he was naked. "No! Fuck! Shit!" He cursed and slapped the water with a fist splashing recklessly. "I appreciate healthy conversation between friends, but I am going to need a moment," Jaskier said with a blank expression since he couldn't face Geralt. The nudity had nothing to do with it. "Finish cleaning up. I'll be down the hall," Jaskier left the room, leaving Geralt alone in the tub.

Geralt submerged himself in the water, hoping a drowner would come and finish him off finally in this moment of dread. He screamed under the surface and came back up out of breath. Clean enough he jumped out of the tub, leaving the fish stank behind. He approached the clothes Jaskier brought out for him, then looked back to his beaten but still high-quality armour and stared for a moment. Geralt picked up his swords, donned his helmet and went out the door. "A vampire's castle is no place for you." Geralt whispered to himself before taking off down the stairs and left the Chameleon. Before Geralt could reach the stable, Zoltan stopped him at the door. "Geralt old pal! It's so good to see you it's been nearly a year hasn't it?" Zoltan asked, going in for a pat on the back, before Geralt could reach Roach. Another figure appeared in the doorway, Priscilla who donned sour look on her face. "Geralt of Rivia, you would leave as quickly as you arrive and not even say hello to me?" She asked. The sour look on her face dropped to reveal a smile. Geralt looked between the two of them in panic, the immediate entourage of people trying to get his attention right when he wanted to disappear. 

"Somethings come up I need to leave," he quickly said as he broke away from Zoltan. "But ye just got here." Zoltan looked to Pricilla with a curious look. "What happened?" he asked. "Jaskier found me a contract; it's urgent." Geralt blurted out aggressively, hoping they would take the hint and go away. Pricilla looked confused about what had happened and hurried back inside to find Jaskier upstairs alone in his room — sitting slumped over in his music chair with his lute propped against the wall out of reach. "What's going on? Geralt just left in a hurry without even saying hello. Said you gave him some sort of contract? Can't he just come here to relax once in a while?" Pricilla questioned Jaskier, who seemed unresponsive as he stared at his boots. "Jaskier? Did something happen?" She asked, putting her arm around his shoulder. Jaskier looked up at Pricilla. "He ran off without me?" Jaskier sighed and stood up, "That idiot. I'll be back shortly." Jaskier said, giving Pricilla a gentle kiss on the forehead and without grabbing his lute headed out. He wasn't going to let the Witcher face the vampire on his own, especially after that conversation. End For Now Chapter 2 (here) For more fanfics go here

Self Insert, s15 coda, M, 3.8k

(TW: overdosing - no deaths, but a lot of pills are taken at once)

Ever since finding out that Chuck has been writing their lives, the Winchesters are going off script more than usual. And each act of free will spits on all of Chuck's work and muddles his sharp, writer's mind. It's bad enough he has to babysit a powerful demon he brought back from the Empty, but now he can't write the ending the Winchesters deserve. How can he create an epic, gut-wrenching ending when he's being given domesticity, wallowing, and a badass Castiel to work with. All of it useless to him.

There's nothing anchoring his work. No puppeteer to pull the strings. But somehow Lilith proves her worth and finds the silver lining in the stormy skies.

Chuck raids Becky’s bathroom cabinet, mirrored door swinging wildly on its hinges while he searches for aspirin. Another migraine rips across his temple, flaring as powerful as a dying star. He curses, tossing lotions and bottles randomly until he finds the economy sized tub. “Thank me,” he sighs, grabbing it and twisting the cap off. One pill wouldn’t cut it, so Chuck poured the bottle down his throat until his cheeks puffed. Then he races to the kitchen for a pitcher of water to wash it down with.

Lilith watches on, unamused by the laughable scene of God overpowered by a simple headache. “Really?” she starts, waiting until Chuck leans against the counter with an empty pitcher in hand, “You couldn’t snap your fingers and make it go away?”

He shoots her a glare but she doesn’t wilt. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“But swallowing enough pills that could take down all of Jonestown helps?”

“Maybe?” Chuck shrugs, “Power of suggestion?” As he says that, another beat of pain flares up. Dropping the pitcher, he rubs at his forehead. It shatters against the tiles. Chuck walks away, muttering, “Clean that up.”

“Oh, that’s all I am now?” Lilith snarls, defiant, “Your maid ? Not even good enough to be a plot device anymore?”

Another headache wiggles at the base of his skull, where a set of fiery white eyes burn into him. “You weren’t even that good of one to begin with.”

“Excuse me!”

Chuck scrubs his hands over his face, frozen, waiting for the avalanche he knocked over to bury him. Lilith stomps towards him, each blow to the floor adding to his already drumming head. She claws at his arm and forces him to look at her. “ What ?”

“You know what,” she says, squinting up at him, “You wake me up, bring me here, give me one night of freedom and then…? Nothing ! There’s only so much you can do in a damn house. Especially one that doesn’t have any cable !”

Chuck copies her disdainful expression. “There’s wi-fi.”

“That doesn’t help me when you have the only laptop!” Lilith yells at him, “Give me something to do, dammit. Otherwise just send me back to the Empty!”

“I gave you something to do,” he lobs back at her, “And you did it poorly .”

“I got you the Equalizer!”

“You got rid of the Equalizer!”

“Which I still haven’t been thanked for,” she says, hands flying above her, “I know you’re the Almighty Father but would it kill you to express the smallest amount of gratitude? I mean, no wonder Lucifer fell like he did…”

Chuck feels anger bubbling up inside him. Instead of wrecking his current base of operations he directs the maelstrom towards a distant galaxy light years away. Decimates three planets and freezes the core of their sun so the rest of that solar system dies slowly. “I wanted it.”

“For what reason?” she asks,”What reason would possibly warrant you keeping a weapon that can kill you around? It makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense!” Chuck tells her, voice loud and enriched with power, “Out of the two of us here there’s only one God and it’s me… I don’t have to tell you anything . I don’t have to keep you here .”

“But you do,” Lilith says, “Not out torturing the Winchesters or their friends. Not back in the Empty sleeping for the rest of eternity. No, I’m here because you need me. Need me to sit around and read through every different ending you’ve written, being slowly driven mad because I’m the one forced to entertain your mediocre bullshit - nggh!”

Lilith hovers inches off the ground. She claws at her neck, where an invisible force applies excess amounts of pressure. Breathing doesn’t matter, but with her windpipe crushed she can’t speak. The pain comes when Chuck’s eyes glow a blinding blue and parts of her essence shrivel from the exposure.

In a blink the light show ends and she falls. Chuck steps to her, glaring at her crumpled form. “You want to know the real reason why you’re not back in the game?” he scoffs, “The Equalizer was only number one on the list of things you seriously screwed up. Because of you, the Winchesters know I’m working behind the scenes! You took my hand and laid every card I had on the table. Your whole chapter went nothing like I wrote !”

“That wasn’t my fault,” she coughs, wiping at her mouth, “You stuck me with lumps and expected statues . Of course nothing was going to plan.”

“Maybe if you tried harder the Winchesters would have responded better -”

“Winchesters?” Lilith laughs, a rough, hollow melody that grates on his nerves. “Kind of a roundabout way of saying Dean , don’t you think?”

Like being shot by Sam again, Chuck recoils from the strike. He considers flexing his power, destroying her and bringing her back again, only to settle after deeming it a waste. “No, it’s not… you failed with both of them -”

“So I was supposed to seduce both of them?” Lilith says, “Because I read your flimsy excuse of a first draft and that part with Sam wasn’t included. In fact, Sam was hardly mentioned in it at all. You still nursing a… wound ?”

Chuck brushes the joke off, shoulder tensing under his jacket. Tendrils of pain squeezing the muscles where the bullet rests. “Sam wasn’t that important then… it was you and Dean  -”

“And the knock-off erotica you wrote in which I, trapped playing a barely legal philosophy major, seduce Big Brother Winchester and we have crazy sex where I’m moaning and screaming ‘That’s it! Slam into my tight, little, virginal ass, Dean’!” She writhes on the floor, giving a Meg Ryan-worthy performance. Lilith stops with one hand tangled in her hair while the other supports her arched back. Bedroom eyes replaced with a harsh gaze. “Sorry I didn’t become the little porn star you wanted daddy. ”

He grabs her arm and drags Lilith to her feet. “I didn’t realize you treated that scene like a joke.”

“I could have,” she tells him, “Really play up the innocent school girl routine, but whatever I would’ve sold Dean wouldn’t have bought.”

“Of course he would have,” Chuck says, defensive, “This is Dean we’re talking about. He should’ve been all over you in that motel room.”

“Well he wasn’t.”

“Because you weren’t playing up your character’s sexuality enough,” he argues, “I made it really easy for you, too, what with all the aphrodisiacs I wrote in. Do you know how hard it is to insert ideas into someone’s head that they should change the layout of their motel rooms so they had mood lighting and antlers everywhere? In such a short time? No!” His finger jabs at her, close enough he nearly pokes her eye. “Since I’m ninety-nine-point-nine-nine infallible than the problem was definitely you .”

Lilith scowls at him, sharp teeth poking between her lips. “Like I keep telling you, it wasn’t me - and it also wasn’t you. It was Dean, he wasn’t interested .”

“Because you weren’t -”

“No!” she shouts over him, “Because he’s not the Dean you knew! Because he realized how creepy it is hooking up with a girl who’s almost half his age ! Who only seconds before was crying about how awful her life was because she felt like she had no purpose. I bet that at no moment of knowing ‘Ashley’ did he think her purpose was to happily take his wrinkled dick and fondle some saggy balls for fifteen seconds until he came and fell asleep without even attempting to return the favor! I’m tired of saying this but he is not the man you know anymore!” Lilith’s chest heaves with the force of her words, a few of the figurines in the room tipping over from how wild her power shot during her tirade. Like whips of electric energy she tore through the room, shattering picture frames and upending Becky’s model Roadhouse.

Chuck watches her through slitted eyes. He snaps his fingers and the room repairs itself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chuck says, “Of course I know him - I know all of them. They’re my creations. Nothing’s changed about them, not at all.”

“So you’re completely ignoring what showed up today?”

A shadow passes over his face at the question. Another tidal wave of pain roars through his mind, every nerve in his body swept in its destructive path. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Lilith says, backing away, “That’s why you spent all that time ripping it to shreds only for it to reappear on your desk like it never happened -”

“Lilith.”

“I took a peak, of course,” she admits, “I found it… I didn’t immediately hand it over. Like I said, I’m bored . It was interesting… very different than a lot of other things I’d been forced to read.”

“Stop it, I mean it -”

“Dean Winchester, our charming man of action, holed up in his room eating his feelings and nursing some heartbreak,” Lilith mocks, tone heavy with cruel delight. “Sam, the boy afraid of his own powers, taking ownership of his affluence and ability with magic. And Castiel the - actually, I don’t really know how to describe him. The angel never really comes up in your writings. I don’t know why seeing how hot that action scene was. If you wanted me to seduce him, I wouldn’t really mind… if Meg could do it then so can I -”

“ Enough .” Chuck snarls, windows shattering all around the house. Pain from the migraine becomes too much to deal with so he sinks to his knees, unable to use his powers and fix the broken glass. All he can do is focus all his energy on his breathing while he fights the chaos of free will tearing up his future.

When he feels more in control again Chuck opens his eyes and chances a look at Lilith. The angry expression on her face melted into a more unusual one. Curiosity easily shines in her eyes at his pathetic display, outlined with an odd hue of fear. Returning to full height, both school their expressions into masked indifference.

“Those pages were garbage ,” he tells Lilith, “they were… fanfiction . It’s not how it’s supposed to go. Sam’s happiness… Castiel’s confidence and Dean…” Chuck can’t bear to utter the next few words. “Whoever wrote those doesn’t know all the work I put into creating these characters. All the specifics of their characteristics that makes them who they are. That makes them butt heads and become their own worst enemies! I’m the author! Whatever I write is canon! And I do not like being mocked .”

“But you were, Chuck,” Lilith says, a softer approach, “Today you wrote the fanfiction… the story where Dean leaves Sam behind to drown in booze and women didn’t happen. Sam choosing to sacrifice the body of the woman he loves to destroy Rowena’s magic didn’t happen. Castiel being too late to save that mother and kid because he was paralyzed by his depression… that didn’t happen . None of what you’re writing will happen if you sit behind a desk and pray for it to work. Sometimes you need to put the effort in and bend the rules to fit your game.”

Chuck arches a brow in her direction. “Deus ex machina?” he frowns, “I kinda prefer keeping my arrival until the very end… I am God after all. If I show up too early then where’s the plot gonna go?”

“And yet the story of the Winchesters keeps going even though you're a recurring character,” she shakes her head. Lilith inches closer to him, smirking. “This isn’t the time to be holding back. Grand finales mean bringing in your heavy hitters, like yours truly . Who cares if you show up early? Every moment from beginning to end should be filled with adrenaline and action and not this… domestic crap.”

It’s a convincing argument, Lilith presenting her case with honeyed words fashioned to sweeten his ears. Except he doesn’t trust her enough to suspect that her goals are far less charitable than helping him with his runaway characters. In a room full of quickly-closing corners, however, he will take the first exit presented.

“That’s not a terrible idea,” he says, walking towards the study. Lilith follows. “Since Belphegor’s arc wrapped up way too early for him to be the Big Bad… there has been something missing in my work. No wonder Dean and Sam have been circling the drain!”

“It helps they’re already gunning for you,” Lilith adds, sitting in a nearby chair, “Good luck taking you off the board though seeing you’re God .”

Chuck relaxes behind his desk, staring at an open Word document. “But they’re putting up a united front. Kind of makes it hard to have one kill the other when there’s nothing driving them apart.”

“You could have Sam find out what Dean said to -”

“There’s nothing driving them apart.”

“Then be what drives them apart.”

“ How ?”

“I thought you were the writer here?” she scoffs, swinging her legs up over the armrest.

He rolls his eyes. “You said you wanted something to do, right? Help me come up with a wedge.”

“Kind of a waste of my skills…”

“You’d rather I send you into some other girl,” Chuck asks, “have you try and seduce Dean all over again?”

Lilith scowls. “Why don’t you try and seduce him.”

“What?”

“You seduce Dean,” she repeats, “You’re so obsessed with who he sleeps with, clearly you’re sporting a chub for the guy. Every scene you write with him in it makes it obvious, even the ones where he dies at Sam’s hands. No one needs to know how handsome a guy is moments away from death.”

Chuck shrugs, nervously fiddling with his glasses. “Debatable…”

“So why don’t you hop on his dick and get off mine.” She reaches behind her for one of the figures on display, snatching a Dean with opposable joints. Swinging his arm, Lilith takes the knife in its hand and has the miniature Winchester stab himself over and over again.

He pays her no mind, mulling over Lilith’s sarcastic suggestion. “Y’know…” Chuck mumbles, putting on his glasses, “that could work…” Chuck’s fingers begin typing. The story unfolds easily now that the missing element - himself - was added to the page. A wicked smile unfurls the more he types.

Hours pass, and Chuck has a working idea of how the Winchesters’ world will end.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sam carries a few books through the Bunker’s main room when he hears the door open from above. Glancing up he finds Dean casually strolling down the steps. A swagger in his posture that hadn’t been present in a long while. So taken aback he nearly let his brother walk away without the stern interrogation he planned.

“Dean,” he starts, “where were you?”

Dean pauses under the archway, facing away from Sam. His hand pressed against the wall. “Out.”

“Out?” Sam scoffs, “That’s it?”

“Yeah. I was out.”

“Without leaving a note or answering mine or Cas’s calls and texts?” Sam stomps over, scowling, “You complain all this time about him ignoring us. And the moment he gets here you turn tail and leave? What’s the matter with you?”

Dean shrugs, showing a sliver of his handsome profile to Sam. “Had better things to do then waste hours running in circles with you and a fallen angel.”

Sam’s expression hardens. “Out, huh?” he asks, “Did you go to the jerk store?”

“No,” Dean says, “now are we done? Can you go back to your bitch party?”

“Dammit, Dean!” He grabs his brother’s shoulder and spins him around, stomach clenching at the disinterested stare that greets him. “I thought we were done with this, man! If we’re gonna have any chance to take down Chuck than I need you here, with us. Knowing he’s still playing with our lives it’s… I know it’s hard. But none of us will make it out alive if we’re keeping each other at a distance.”

Dean pouts throughout Sam’s speech, but a spark flickers in his eyes. His tight shoulders droop under an invisible weight, and the indifferent mask breaks. “Sorry,” he says, “I… I know. I get it. But I didn’t want to sit and read and… I found this case in Texas. Thought Chuck was tied to it. Figured you and Cas were okay to sit tight and handle the research while I hit the field.”

Sam sighs, the knot in his chest unwinding. “That’s… okay. Wish you still told us but… did it pan out?”

“What do you think?” Dean shrugs. He scrubs a tired hand over his perfect jaw, plush lips stretching under his touch. “It… it didn’t turn out so well. Wasn’t so much Chuck as it was a djinn. Handled it anyway.”

“That’s… that’s good,” Sam says, attempting a smile, “You feel any better killing it?”

He shakes his head. “Not exactly what I wanted to kill at the time.”

Seeing his brother crack open his hard shell eases some of the tension between them. Sam inches closer, bringing his brother into a hug. Going slow to give Dean enough time to escape. When he doesn’t, Sam wraps his arms around his brother. “We’ll find a way to get Chuck,” Sam tells him, “and the second we get him you’ll have first dibs.”

Dean shifts in his hold. “Funny thing, Sam,” Dean mumbles, “I’m not in the mood to kill Chuck, either.”

“What -”?

Snkkt

A burning pain rips through his chest from where the blade sunk in. Blood rushes up his throat and bubbles in his mouth, Sam spluttering while it leaks from his parted lips. The books in his hand crash to the floor and he stumbles backwards in shock.

Dean watches him with a soft glee highlighting the crinkles near his gorgeous eyes. Sam darts his gaze from his brother’s face to the red-stained knife in his hands. His hands rush to cover the wound, but the blood continues gushing. “W-what…?”

“Enchanted,” Dean tells him, wiggling the weapon like a toy, “got it from a special friend.”

“You…” Sam’s legs give out and he crumbles to the floor, “How…”

A slow clap echoes in the room, drawing Sam’s attention. He uses all the strength left in him to crane his neck to where the sound originates.

Chuck, in a burgundy blazer and pressed black slacks, stands over them. Sam’s eyes widen as he descends the stairs. “Y-you,” Sam mutters, on his hands at this point, “How… why…”

“It’s easy,” Chuck says, passing him on his way to Dean. His brother welcomes him gladly, adoration shining. Darkness edges his vision, but Sam can still see how Dean nuzzles Chuck’s hand when it rubs his cheek. Accepts a kiss as he bleeds out in front of him. “Dean finally understands his place in the story…”

“Your word is law, baby,” Dean says, “Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“You know what I’d really love…?”

In his final moments Sam becomes a third party to the scene about to play out. Chuck whispers to him, mouth hidden. Dean nods and drops to his knees. His last breath intermingles with the jingle of Dean removing Chuck’s belt. Chuck’s zipper being undone one of the last thing he hears. Sam’s life eeks out of him, and he dies knowing his brother has and will continue to service the very being that controlled their lives from the beginning.

“If only you knew, Sam,” Chuck says, “the glory that comes from giving your life to God…”

-------------------------------------------

Chuck waits for Lilith to finish, leaning on his desk while she reads the printed pages. It’s been very silent, a worrisome song for writers when faced with readers. But given the variety of faces she shuffled through Chuck feels his nerves untangling.

“I have to say,” she says, “I’ve said this before and I didn’t really mean it all those other times. But when I say this is great… I actually mean it.”

“Really?”

“Well?” Lilith shrugs her shoulders, “it’s better than anything else you’ve done. It’s fresh, you’re not rehashing any of the old plot points that’ve come and gone. There’s a strong point of view here… Really appreciated you using Sam’s blood as lube -”

“I knew you would.”

“And that part where Cas walked in on you fingering Dean,” she continues, slapping the papers, “I cackled! Forcing him to stay until you finished and then making Dean kill him was brilliant.”

Chuck blushes under the praise, waving her off. “It just grew organically from where the story was going.”

“And then some…” Lilith lies his work flat on her lap and stares at him. “Now the only question I have is… will this ending actually happen ?”

“Oh… I think we’re winding closer to the end than anyone realizes…” Chuck turns the laptop around and shows Lilith the news article he found celebrating a local celebrity named Leo Webb. “And to thank you for the inspiration… I have another job for you.”

Lilith sinks to her seat. “I’m interested.”

Chuck explains the scene he has waiting, the unfinished threads he will quilt together later on. The more he talks about it the better the finished product becomes in his mind. An excitement that hadn’t existed inside for a long time squeezes his heart. He looks forward to leaving Becky’s house and getting his hands dirty. A joy he thought only came from creating worlds resurfacing in the opening act of destroying one.

Writing about Dean and Sam for so long made him forget who the real star of their story was. And it’s high time he reminds them.

----------------------------------------------------

Sam shuffles into the kitchen, rewinding through the horrible dream he experienced. One of the worst since he shot Chuck with the Equalizer. Thinking about it sends shivers racing up and down his spine like it’s NASCAR. The cars on the makeshift track speed faster when he finds Dean stuffing cereal into his face.

“Morning Sam,” he says, waving with his spoon, “Wanna pull up a seat?”

He doesn’t answer. Sam books it towards the coffee pot and debates pouring the drink over his eyes. Instead he grabs a mug from the cabinet above and fills it. Quickly, uncaring to how a few drops splash onto the counter. The faster he makes his coffee the sooner he can hide in his room until he wipes his memory of the horrible nightmare.

Dean won’t let him. When Sam turns to leave, he’s blocking his escape with a stern frown. “Sam?”

“...Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

Sam shuffles his feet, unable to meet Dean’s questioning stare. His brother asks again. “I can’t, Dean.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because if I say it, out loud it’s…” Sam sighs, “it’s real.”

Dean nods, leaning against the island. “Another vision?”

“Yeah…”

“How bad was it?”

“So bad.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Dean asks, “Y’know… maybe if you let me know I can -”

“No.”

“No?”

Sam shakes his head. “No. Trust me Dean, this… you don’t want to know…

5.06, I Believe the Children Are Our Future. Or that one where TFW teaches the Antichrist about the value of Free Will by presenting all the facts that enable him to choose better than Sam did...

DEAN: Okay. Hey, look, we are not going to kill him. All right? But we can't leave Jesse here either. We know that. So...we take him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do. CASTIEL: You'll kidnap him? What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry. Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be halfway around the world. DEAN: So we— SAM: So we tell him the truth. You say Jesse's destined to go dark side—fine. But he hasn't yet. So if we lay it all out for him—what he is, the apocalypse, everything—he might make the right choice. CASTIEL: You didn't. And I can't take that chance.

And, I mean, OUCH.

But... did he, though? Did Sam REALLY make the "wrong choice?" Well, arguably he did in trusting Ruby and allowing her to manipulate him all season long. He made lots of wrong choices, from that perspective. But he was also lied to and manipulated about the fundamental goal of the entire season: All along, they were told that killing Lilith was the only way to stop Lucifer from being freed, to stop the apocalypse. And killing Lilith was, all along, what Heaven and Hell wanted from Sam.

THIS is why Castiel rebelled from Heaven, after all. His own guilt over his part in this, over having been manipulated HIMSELF for so long, after being lied to and literally brainwashed into believing that first Heaven's orders were just, and then when he learned the whole truth, that the apocalypse itself was just.

It was only Dean's influence over him that changed his mind, that gave him an out, that gave him a choice to rebel.

Which means he can heap a bunch more guilt on himself for not being able to get Dean there in time to stop Sam...

Team Free Will is just a mess of unwarranted guilt, aren't they? But I digress (as I am wont to do).

Cas tries direct action, planning to kill Jesse before he can do any harm. He learned that lesson (and it's borne of his own sense of guilt, and lays the groundwork for everything he chooses to do in s6 and beyond, taking responsibility on his own shoulders and believing his own plans are just and good). Meanwhile Sam and Dean try a bit of manipulation of their own, in a misguided attempt to protect Jesse from the truth of what he is. Of course, that was bound to fail:

DEAN: You're a superhero. JESSE: I am? DEAN: Yeah. Yeah. I mean, who else could turn someone into a toy? You're Superman—minus the cape and the go-go boots. See, my—my partner and I, we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to take you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil. JESSE: Like the X-Men? DEAN: Exactly like the X-Men.

I mean, it's a much more palatable lie than "hey you're the Antichrist! this is the Apocalypse! The Devil wants to use you to burn the world!" What do you even tell a kid in this situation, who doesn't even understand his own power? But this poor kid is just tired of being lied to. I mean, he accidentally hurt so many people based on the childhood lies he'd been taught to believe. "Your face will freeze that way." "Pop Rocks and Coke will make your stomach explode." "Joy Buzzers will electrocute you!" All lies. And his belief in them did real harm... ironic, yes? But the demon who made him will use that fact to attempt to manipulate Jesse with some half-truths, which turn out to be even worse than the flat-out lies:

DEMON: Those people you call your parents—they lied to you, too. You're not theirs—not really. JESSE: My mom and dad love me. DEMON: Do they? Is—is that why they leave you alone all day? Because they love you so much? These people—these imposters—they told you that the tooth fairy was real and that your toys could hurt you and a hundred other things that aren't true. They love you so much, they made your whole life a lie. Look into your heart, Jesse. You've always known you weren't theirs. You've always known you were different. Everyone has lied to you. They're not FBI agents. And you're not a superhero.

But the demon doesn't actually tell him the truth. She just uses the fact that he'd been lied to all along to work up his anger... which fails in the end. Because those lies weren't about using him, or manipulating him. They were told to him out of love, from parents who didn't want to manipulate him, but give him a normal childhood...

DEMON: They treated you like a child. Nobody trusted you. Everybody's lied to you. Doesn't that make you angry? See? It does make you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse. Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me and you can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that—a world without lies.

HAAAAAAA A WORLD WITHOUT LIES. We know how well that goes, right? Thanks Jack, thanks 14.20. But Sam already sees the way out of this mess.

SAM: We lied to you. And I'm sorry. So here's the truth. I'm Sam Winchester. That's my brother, Dean. W-we hunt monsters. DEMON: Except when you are the monster. Right, Sammy? SAM: And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She's your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing that you're talking to—it's a demon. JESSE: A demon? DEMON: He's done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met him. Don't listen to him. Punish him. JESSE: Sit down and shut up. A chair scoots up behind the DEMON, who is forced into it, silent. She struggles to speak. SAM: There's, uh, kind of a...a war between angels and demons, and...you're a part of it. JESSE: I'm just a kid.

AND THAT RIGHT THERE IS WHY PEOPLE WERE TREATING HIM LIKE A CHILD! BECAUSE HE IS A CHILD! They were lying to him out of kindness, letting him grow up without having to worry about the Bigger Picture of the World yet, because that's what loving parents do for their kids. They shelter them and let them live in their own imaginations when they're young (not that the Winchesters would know what that's like... well, I mean, Sam had a few years of that before he pushed Dean to tell him the truth, and I think he's been regretting that ever since, so he gets it...)

SAM: You can go with her if you want. I can't stop you. No one can. But if you do...millions of people will die. JESSE: She said I was half demon. Is that true? SAM: Yes. But you're half human, too. You can do the right thing. You've got choices, Jesse. But if you make the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life. JESSE: Why are you telling me this?! SAM: Because I have to believe someone can make the right choice, even if I couldn't.

And Jesse... does. I mean, he doesn't sign on to Team Free Will or anything. He chooses HIMSELF. He REMOVES HIMSELF FROM THE PLAYING FIELD. Because he's just that powerful. If angels and demons want to use him, to manipulate him into fighting for one side or the other, he'll just... disappear himself.

DEAN: You know, we destroyed that kid's life by telling him the truth. SAM: We didn't have a choice, Dean. DEAN: Yeah. You know, I'm starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke—protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. The more I think about it...the more I wish Dad had lied to us. SAM: Yeah, me too.

Thing is, did they really destroy his life by telling him the truth? Or did the truth literally set him free? From their limited perspective, based on the manipulation being run on their own lives, and the fact they still don't have all the facts (and won't for years and years to come, really), it really looks like they did burnen this otherwise innocent kid with this horrific dose of reality. But it really does feel like something they were driven to do without a choice. Thing is, Jesse's fate was always probably the most fully informed choice in the entire series up to this point. He had the straight facts laid out in front of him, and was told that it's entirely his choice what he does next. And he chose for himself. That's more than any of TFW will legitimately get, like, ever.

Thanks, Chuck >.>

Hell’s Lady pt 2

Lucifer x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1417 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader manipulates the Winchesters so that she’ll be able to infiltrate their lives that much better...all in the name of her beloved. 

———————————————————————————————————

Surprisingly enough, the vessel you had chosen was pretty enough, and would blend in as a meek little thing, that would allow you to slip right under the Winchester's radar.

Lucifer had filled you in on all the things the Winchester boys had been through and why they were being so stubborn about saying yes to Michael and Lucifer respectively. He'd also let you know that you had permission to do whatever necessary to get what you needed from them, which was a big deal for you. The only box he gave you was no death, both boys had to stay alive for destiny to right itself.

You didn't like that last part, but you could make due with it. You didn't have to keep anyone else alive in the process, so you could still have a bit of fun.

The most difficult part about playing the good girl, was going to be getting to know the boys. There was no way for you to know which way would be best to get the results you wanted, not until you tried something of course.

"What about this?" You asked, brushing the vessel's hair back behind your shoulder, staring at Lucifer from the mirror. He was still sitting on your bed, cross legged and surveying you like a hungry animal.

The two of you were trying to decide what the best look would be to get through to the hunting boys. Flannels and jeans seemed too obvious, and when you'd suggested lace Luci wasn't a huge fan. Eventually you settled on a leather jacket and leggings that made your already abundant curves look that much better.

Lucifer was confident that all you would have to do was chat up Dean at a bar for a few moments for him to be hooked, but Sam was going to be harder to crack. He was suspicious of everyone and didn't trust very easily, so you were going to have to work at it much harder.

"You look great kitten, but you'll have to really sell it for me, okay?" Lucifer grinned, standing from his place and grabbing your hand. He used the grip on your as leverage to twirl you lightly on your heels.

You couldn't help but giggle a bit at his antics, who knew that the devil could be so romantic if he tried? "I've got it Luci, I'm ready" You assure, leaning against his chest lightly to press a kiss to his jaw as far as you could reach.

~

The surface had changed a lot since the last time you'd been above ground and it was sort of fantastic. There was rot and depravity everywhere, and you felt more at home than you ever had on earth before.

Humans were already desperate for attention and love, and as far as the Winchesters were concerned, all you had to show them was the base amount of kindness and they'd be eating out of your hand.

They had lived a life full of death and destruction, and if you painted the right picture, it wouldn't matter what you were...they would be all for it.

Lucifer had dropped you right smack in the middle of the city, which meant you were basically on top of the boys, who were currently staying in a motel a few feet away.

It was raining and dark, both things that would help you play into what you needed. The only thing that could make it better was a wounded animal, and if you made the right phone call, that sort of thing could be arranged.

It only took a few moments for one of the crossroads demons to deliver you a dog that was healing from being hit by a car. You didn't ask where they'd gotten it or how it had happened, but you didn't really care.

All you were concerned about right now was getting into that hotel room with as little suspicion as possible, and that was going to take some acting.

You waited a few moments in the rain and let your hair and clothes get sufficiently wet before knocking on the door and turning on the water works.

Sam answered the door to a plush, sobbing girl soaked to the bone and holding a dog who's leg was clearly splintered in more than one place. Instantly, you could feel his heart soften as he stared down at you, it was working and you hadn't even spoken yet.

"Hello, I'm so sorry to bother you...he just ran into the road, and I don't know where he came from, I don't know what to do" You cried, not bothering to wipe the tears from your eyes as to make you look that much more pathetic.

You could see his heart melting with each word you spoke. It didn't make any sense that the Winchester boys were still alive after everything they'd been through. They weren't mentally or emotionally strong enough to handle the things they dealt with and you knew that this was going to be so fun.

You couldn't wait to break them.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's alright, He's going to be okay...just breath" he suggested, trying so hard to get you to do as he asked. Your heart was pounding and you looked like you would crumble at any minute, he couldn't handle it.

You did as he asked, taking a few deep breaths to try and get your head clear. You were the most convincing little actress in the world and you knew that if Lucifer had been here, your devil would be proud.

"DEAN! Get in here" Sam barked, producing his brother a few seconds later, looking tired with a towel in hand. He was clearly not too happy about seeing you or the dog in your arms but even his hardened gaze softened at the sight of you.

Before you knew what to expect, you were sitting on the Winchester's motel bed, wrapped in a towel, the dog you'd brought curled up on the floor.

They were so quick to let you in on their personal lives that you couldn't believe they were smart enough to make such a problem for Lucifer in the first place. They were stupid, and you could easily break both their necks with a flick of your wrist but you were under strict orders, you couldn't kill them if you wanted to.

"Thank you both so much for this, I didn't have anywhere to go and you two were the closest place around" you lied, knowing full well that there were fourteen other chains and restaurants just down the street you could have chosen. "It's no problem, really...we're happy to do it" Sam hummed, earning a light eye roll from his brother.

You didn't have a problem with their kindness, but you also didn't quite like it. There  were a million things that could go wrong, and you needed to check in with Lucifer before you got too far in. The boys knew your face and right now that was all you needed.

Now they would recognize you in future situations, and that would make it so much easier to change their minds. But the longer you stayed with them, the more suspicious you were making yourself so you came up with the perfect solution.

"I don't want to be in your hair all night, so I'd better be going-" you started, running your hands through your hair, and breaking your speech pattern up a little bit to simulate urgency.

It worked, chiefly because Dean was tired of having the dog on his duffel bag. "Well, what do you want us to do with the dog?" Sam questioned, knowing that you didn't have anywhere in the world to take it. There wasn't anything about you to suggest that you knew how to take care of a wounded dog.

You sure as hell didn't have the experience Sam did in the subject. "I don't know, I'll probably just find some place to drop him off" you sighed, Sam was very good at playing right into your hand, the silly boy.

"Nonsense, I'll keep him here for the night and you can come check on him in the morning" he offered, giving you a moment to think it over before you ultimately accepted. That dog was slowly turning into your ticket into the Winchesters life, and it was working out swimmingly.

Lucifer was going to be so pleased with you, his lady...hell's lady.

The Same - Chapter 7 - 4/6

Sitting in Dr. Brown's living room, Malcolm and JT question her until she finally begins to divulge.

"Was Alice Downey taking LSD on your order?" Bright asks the woman, a small tape recorder in his hand. The throw pillows on the chairs and couch reminded him of his father's eyes. He tries not to look at them too often, focusing on Elaine instead.

"This isn't 1963, Detective. I can't make anyone do anything." For a moment, he and JT share a look.

"Except, you can. With your credentials and authority, you could make anyone do anything. How long did these experiments last? How many students participated in them?" The pillows were mocking him. They were simple, a blue to green gradient with shimmery thread and sparse beads.

He questions her, mouth running on auto-pilot as his mind slowly drifts off to another place. He sees recognition in her eyes as he lists off what they know about their suspect.

Bright faintly hears the name Dominic Render as his eyes glaze over.

Malcolm fully spaces out.

He couldn't get his father off of his mind. Shutting his eyes, Malcolm remembers every glance Martin had ever gave him. How his eyes darkened when annoyed, lit up when he was joyful. How straight and perfectly white his teeth were when he smiled.

"-right?"

Malcolm just wants to sit here, and think about things he usually never allows himself. Just for a moment. A sinful, forbidden moment. Think of his father's hands, how they were still bigger than his, even when he was fully grown.

How his father would put on records and play classical music to dance to, how he read sonnets to him as a child. Doctor Whitly taught him to play the piano at a young age.

He was remembering the small details, the ones that hurt to think about when his father wasn't there.

Martin loved the rain. He would always make Malcolm hot chocolate and read to him when it rained. Kept him warm, even when a storm was raging outside.

"Bright? Bright? Malcolm blinked his eyes open, and instinctively clicked stop on his tape recorder.

"Uh.. sorry. I'm just.. uh.. I'll just.. I'll go wait in the car." He stood and walked outside, sighing as the cold air hit his face.

He was thoroughly embarrassed about losing himself like that. Making a fool of himself in front of JT, who already hated his guts.

Malcolm enters the car, resting his head on the back of the seat and taking a few deep breaths. He just needed to get back into control. Become closed off from his emotions.

He knew how to do it, his heart was just hurting so bad he didn't know if he could. Malcolm needed to escape from his mind. Focus on something else.

JT. How long had the man been calling out for him while he was trapped in his childhood memories? Seconds? Minutes?

He didn't know. Bright sighs, his tired eyes refusing to rest as he fiddled with the car door. In fact, he knew nothing about JT. Only that his humor was incredibly strange, and he did not like Malcolm.

The driver's door open, and said man hopped in the car. "Elaine is settled down for the night with some chamomile."

Malcolm nodded, pushing down the discomfort at the mention of tea. His mother always tried making it for him, but he refused to drink it. It was how his father drugged his victims.

Tea laced with ketamine.

Needless to say, Bright was more of a coffee fan.

"Hey, what happened in there? You completely zoned out." JT asks, hands on the steering wheel.

He shrugs. "Yeah, that happens sometimes. My body can shut down at times."

"Gil and Dani are off looking for Render. He wants me to stay on Professor Bad Trip."

Malcolm stares at him.

"That means you can go home."

He doesn't respond to that. "What does JT stand for? Joseph? Jake? Jason? Julian? J-"

JT interrupts him.

"I don't think you're stakeout material."

Bright shakes his head. "I'm a chronic insomniac. I was made for this."

JT looks past him, observing Elaine's house. Only the porch and living room lights were on.

"How many kid's brains do you think she scrambled to get that house?" Malcolm glares at him, crossing his arms.

"…Sorry." He says reluctantly. "I know she's your people "

The profiler next to him hums, non-committal. "No. You're my people."

JT gives him a certain look, and Malcolm raises his eyebrows. "Tell me why I'm wrong."

"In the service, we have a hierarchy." So, JT had been in the service. Malcolm had guessed this the first time they had met, but now his assumption was confirmed. He smirked lightly.

"Your rank earns you respect. It's the same for cops, y'know. I have a badge. But you don't respect me."

Irritation grows in Bright. How could the man be so daft?

"Listen.. when I was a kid, a cop came to my house and took the bad guy away. He saved me. Saved me from hell on earth, from a lifetime of fear. There is not a single person that respects the badge more than I do, okay?"

Malcolm is uncomfortable with opening up to JT, but he knew that he had clear this up now, to prevent anything from happening later.

"Any respect I haven't given you is what you've been giving to me. You've been an absolute dick since I started consulting, and it's really not helping any of us. Including yourself."

"I'm doing my best. I might not have the most orthodox methods, and I know I come off as strange to you, but I do my best to get justice for everyone. Just like Gil tried to give my family justice." Tried being the keyword.

He doesn't want to get too emotional, so he runs his hand under his nose and sniffs.

"I need to ask Dr. Brown a question. For the profile." He exits the car.

-------

Sitting in Doctor Elaine Brown's living room, Malcolm Whitly opens up about his case. It was quite sad to call his life a case, but that was what it had been since he was 10 years old.

Legal documents, testimonies, and news articles. It wasn't much of a life for a child. And it didn't lessen as he got older. People had always expected he would turn out like his father.

"Your case is a testament of the humans mind to endure trauma."

Malcolm winces. Ouch. Not exactly the support he had been looking for.

"Uh.. thanks? I guess? Was that a compliment?" Elaine just raises her eyebrows and drinks more of her tea.

Bright shudders in his seat, the scent of chamomile in the air.

He continues on, telling her about his "controversial" repressed memories, and everything he had been diagnosed with.

She asks him if he believed he had been drugged, and Malcolm nods, fingers tapping in a rhythm on the arm chair to stop the tremors.

"Have you ever smelled chloroform?"

"..Well, it's not my drug of choice." She gives him that look, a look that his therapist gave to him often. He knows he's deflecting, okay, but he's not very comfortable talking about this with anyone.

Unlike his therapist, Dr. Brown continues on.

"It has extreme chemical notes, but it's actually quite sweet smelling."

He swallows hard. Thinking of his father's clean, crisp cologne with a hint of chemical and sweetness.

"A familiar smell can trigger repressed memories."

Malcolm stands from his chair, going over to a desk in the far side of the room. Fingers resting on his hip bones.

"Do you have any fears?"

He asks, shuffling through the papers on the desk. Looking at different files, with graphs and charts. Dr. Brown doesn't say anything about him going through her things.

"I have regrets." She says, and Malcolm turns to look at her curiously.

Elaine continues. "If your memories are blocked, it must be because your mind is afraid of something in your memories. You'll need to overcome that fear to access them."

Malcolm notes this, vowing to remember that fact once the case was over.

He turns, eyes raking over the room. Meticulously looking at every detail, trying to find something that would aid him.

His eyes catch on a glass display of tribal masks, and his head tilts. Something clicking in his mind.

"These are.. interesting." Bright says, going up to the case and staring at the one displayed in the middle. There were four in total, but he couldn't tear his eyes off the one.

"What is this one?" He asks, finger poised just inches from the glass case.

"It's African." Malcolm exhales through his nostrils, trying not to snap at the woman. He knew that. He wasn't an idiot.

"It's an artistic interpretation of Lucifer." A cold shiver travels from the base of Malcolm's skull to his tailbone.

"Has Dominic Render ever been here?"

"Yes, he along with many other students.. he.. he was always fascinated by those masks.."

Malcolm sprints back to the desk, gripping the folder with the copy of the notes left by Render.

One thing he hasn't understood earlier was the circular shapes Dominic had formed with his words. At the time, separately, it hadn't made much sense.

But now..

Bright moves the papers around, his own panting breath loud in his ears. Stepping back, he looks at all of the papers. They form a face. His head snaps to the left, at the Lucifer mask, and back.

"He wants you to understand him. To find him." Dread washes over Malcolm as he quickly takes a picture of the papers and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"This is where he's planning on killing you. It has sentimental value to him."

"S-something's wrong." Dr. Brown tells him, and his heart drops to his stomach as he turns to her. She's sweating, pupils dialated. "My pulse is racing, my thoughts are shifting. It-It's the tea. The chamomile."

Malcolm rushes over to her, biting the inside of his cheek so hard the bitter taste of blood fills his mouth. He should have known to not trust the tea. Dammit.

At least it wasn't ketamin. If it was, he wouldn't be able to function. Wouldn't be able to help the woman.

He ignores the pain at the thought for now, hesitantly placing his hands on Elaine's arms to get her out of the chair. His stomach flips unpleasantly at the touch.

"You've been laced with LSD. We need to get you out of here." Bright leads her to the door, and goes to open it when all the lights cut out.

Left in the dark, the only sound Elaine's drugged babbling and his own panicked breathing, Malcolm knows what he has to do.

"Come on, let's go back." He pulls her away from the door, and she holds onto him, pupils unnaturally dilated. "Shh, shh. Come on. Sit back down.."

"Stay here. Don't go anywhere." Bright tells her, making sure she doesn't get up, and leaves the room.

Outside, in the hallway, is a record player. A record is already sitting in it.

Malcolm takes out his phone, ringing JT. He waits in tense silence until the man finally answers.

"JT. Dominic Render is in the house. Get in here." He hangs up, not waiting to hear the man's response. Malcolm would have to go find the mentally ill man, prevent him from getting to Dr. Brown.

Thankfully, due to his father's love of classical music and all things retro, they had a record player in their home. He and his father used to dance to Frank Sinatra.

Thank you, Martin. Malcolm thinks as he turns the player on, pressing the needle onto the record.

He flinches as rock music started playing. It was definitely no Sinatra, and it hurt his ears quite a lot, but hopefully it would delay Render.

The loud music should confuse the man, and if Malcolm was lucky he might hallucinate due to sensory overload. A part of Bright feels guilty for undoubtedly causing a mentally ill man more pain.

But, thinking back to the Professor's empty head and the many blades next to Carl Mitchell, Malcolm can't take any chance.

Malcolm stops by the fireplace, grabbing a fire poker and holding it ahead of him like a weapon.

Walking through the house slowly, hands in front of him, Malcolm tries to talk Render down.

"Dominic Render!" He calls out over the booming music, trying to hide the fear that was bubbling at the surface. Malcolm couldn't let the man to have the advantage.

"No one else needs to die." He comes around the corner, muscles tensing in anticipation of the killer being there. He isn't.

Where could he be?

Malcolm goes over the entire house, not finding the suspect. That only leaves one place.. upstairs.

"I know how you feel. I've had my fair share of nightmares."

He begins slowly ascending the stairs, his breathing erratic and undoubtedly afraid. His palm runs over the wooden railing of the staircase. It does little to calm him, but Malcolm memorizes the grain of the wood underneath his hand.

"But they trapped you inside yours, didn't they?" Bright prided himself in his skill of talking people down, getting a Masters in Psychology hadn't just been for show. He reverently studied conversation, and the act of talking to a person who was dangerous.

It helped him in the sociopathic aspect (he was not a sociopath, he just had tendencies). He understood empathy more, though he could not accurately emulate it without looking quite robotic.

It also helped in his career as a profiler. He had many personal conversations with killers, which was especially easy due to his background. Malcolm was quite good at subduing killers, talking them down from suicide after they had been caught. Showing at their trials, convincing them serving time was better than death.

He wanted to use this skill to help Dominic Render, but so far the man had yet to show. This worried him. Bright not be able to talk him out of it.

"..Dominic, I know you're scared." Malcolm reaches the top of the staircase, walking towards a closed doors on the left. "I am, too."

The door opened, and the next thing Bright knew, he was being hurtled backwards, into a picture on the wall. He feels the glass shatter as he hits it, all breath leaving his body. Hitting the wall so hard, his knees wobble.

He fights back with the fire poker, holding it in front of him so Dominic couldn't stab him. Malcolm pushes against him, giving him enough space to get away from the wall.

Dominic's hand hits the wall, and Bright is behind him. He grabs Malcolm by the shoulders, trying to get him down the stairs so he could subdue him properly. This doesn't work well, as Render's elbow comes back and hits him in the face. The hit causes his shaking knees to give in, and he collapses to the floor.

Render stands over him, pressing him with his foot to the edge of the staircase.

"This is how I respond to fear."

He crouches over Malcolm, raising his blade.

Malcolm's eyes go wide, pure, unbridled fear in his eyes. This is it. He's going to die. Dominic is going to kill him, take his brain and.. and what? Do what with it? He didn't know, there was no time, he couldn't even open his mouth for his last words-

There's an incredibly loud bang, and Render is off of him, a warm splatter of blood on his face. Unlike the time at Quantico, when the feelings that followed were resentment for a person that could be saved, all Malcolm felt was satisfaction.

If that was how Dominic reacted to someone who was trying to help him, he couldn't imagine how he would react to someone prosecuting him.

He doesn't wipe the blood off of his face, sitting up calmly and looking back. Dr. Elaine Brown is standing on the staircase, shotgun still in hand.

"I-I did it. I killed him." Something twists in Malcolm's chest, and he slowly desends down the stairs. There's a large crash somewhere in the house and then a cry of, "Police!"

JT enters the archway near the staircase and raises his gun. "No!" Malcolm tells him. "No. Wait."

"Elaine, you're in the middle of an intense psychedelic episode. I know it may seem like a lot right now, but in the end it's just going to be a bad trip." He manages to take the gun from her, taking out the bullets and turning the safety on, throwing it to the side.

"You can't run from the fear. You just have to.. fall into it, okay? You did this." He gestures up the stairs at Render's body. Cold and lifeless. "You have to live with it now."

dean’s first crush read here on ao3 based on this post

Sam’s beginning to understand his brother’s vitriolic hatred of witches now. Not that he’d liked very many witches to begin with. They were generally more troublesome than helpful and a pain in the ass to boot. This though? This really takes the cake. They’d taken a case a few hours away in Laverne, just over the border into Oklahoma. It hadn’t seemed like their thing, originally. Adults were disappearing more than they normally did with nothing left behind at the site. Sam hadn’t thought much about it until he spotted an article a few days later that claimed one of the adults had returned as a child. Testing had confirmed that it was the exact same person, so Sam pulled Dean and Cas into the library and showed them the article. They’d had their bags packed and were in the car twenty minutes later.

They hadn’t reached Laverne until late that night, so they settled into the motel room and went over the news articles again.                                                          ✤ “Could be a witch.” Castiel pipes up, crossing his arms over his chest. “A powerful one, at least. Didn’t you run across a witch who could take years from people?” Dean grimaces at the reminder but nods. “Yeah, let’s not bring that up. Bit of a sore spot.” Sam snorts. “Not for me.” Dean turns a glare to his brother but Castiel simply rolls his eyes and continues. “If it is a witch, we need to figure out who it is and why they’re turning adults into children. What benefit are they getting?”

Both Winchesters shrug and agree to work on that problem in the morning once they’ve gotten enough sleep. Cas joins Dean in bed, a sight Sam still isn’t entirely used to. Ever since the shit with Michael, Cas and Dean had just kind of… been together. Dean hadn’t told and Sam hadn’t asked, but his brother was happier than Sam had seen in a long time and Cas was sticking around, so Sam really didn’t have any complaints. Morning came way too early, but Sam was used to it at this point. He walked down the street to the nearest café, grabbing a few different things for breakfast and coffees for each of them. Dean and Cas are both dressed and ready by the time he returns, so Sam drops the food and coffees on the table and takes the opportunity to shower. An hour later, they’re all in their Fed suits, piling into the Impala and heading to interview a few of the victims. Their attempts are… unsuccessful, to say the least. Not only are they in a child’s body, it appears that their minds were reverted to their childhood state. Most of the victims are now somewhere between five and eight, so they don’t get a whole hell of a lot from them. They grab a quick lunch before heading to the police station, which turns out to be another dead end. They’re more baffled than the Winchesters are, and they’ve got no evidence to go on. One of the officers pulls them aside on their way out of the building and swears it’s the work of the devil. The three of them glance at each other and Sam catches the corner of Cas’s mouth quirking upwards, almost as if to say yeah, like Lucifer would give a shit about this even if he was alive. Since they don’t have to go to the morgue, they grab a quick dinner at a burger joint in town. It’s crowded and noisy, so their theories about the case blend in with the chatter easily. “Maybe it’s a curse?” Dean suggests, shoving a few fries in his mouth as he glances between his brother and Castiel. The former shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think so. I think Cas’s suggestion that it’s a witch might be right.” “What’s the motive, though? The witch you encountered that was taking years from people was keeping himself alive. No matter what age you were after you met him, though, you retained your mental state, so it can’t be magic of that sort.” “Maybe it’s just a witch that likes fucking with people.” Dean says, shrugging and finishing off his dinner. Sam and Cas exchange a weary glance. “Let’s hope for our sake that it’s not. A witch that likes fucking with people is the last thing we need.” Sam says, paying the bill and following his brother to the car. The ride back to the motel is nearly silent, aside from the quiet music coming from the radio. Cas is the first to speak, just as Dean pulls into a parking spot. “Do we have occupations for the victims?” Sam raises an eyebrow as he shakes his head. “No, but I can get it. Why?” Cas hums and follows them into the room. “Just a hunch. Can you get me their occupations and then I’ll explain?” Sam glances over at his brother, who simply shrugs and motions toward the laptop. Instead of questioning them, Sam drops into a chair and pulls the laptop toward him. It takes him a few minutes to get a list of the victims and their occupations but, once he does, he passes the laptop to Cas. The angel settles at the table and reads them over quietly before nodding once, seemingly to himself. “Care to explain?” Dean questions, tugging his tie off and tossing it in the direction of his duffle. “I think whoever it is may be stealing knowledge.” Sam and Dean both raise their eyebrows at Cas, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he continues. “All of the victims were in fairly knowledgeable jobs. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a few professors and teachers, and an astronomer.” Dean raises an eyebrow, sitting in the only empty chair at the table. “Can they do that? Take someone’s knowledge?” Castiel shrugs, pushing the laptop back toward the Winchesters. “I don’t see why not, if they have the proper spell for it. Sam sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Great, so we’re looking for a witch that’s stealing knowledge from people. How’re we supposed to beat that, exactly?” Dean hums, shrugging. “Witch-killing bullet usually does the trick.”                                                     ✤ Of course it doesn’t go according to plan. Nothing ever does for them. They find the witch pretty easily, all things considered. A guy in town had recently had a few breakthroughs in various fields despite having no previous knowledge of those subjects. They also find evidence of him visiting each of the victims before they were de-aged, so as soon as night settles over the town, they pile into the Impala with their guns and spare witch-killing bullets. They park a block from the guy’s house, using the darkness of the night conceal their entry.  It’s a simple place, given the recent success the guy’s had. No flashy car out front, no weird collectibles in the house. There’s a creak from their right just as Dean and Cas enter the threshold of the living room and before either can manage to get their guns up, there’s a blindingly bright flash of light. Sam ducks behind the wall, covering his eyes quickly and trying to regain his senses so he can get a shot off. He stops dead in his tracks when he opens his eyes again, though. Instead of Dean and Castiel standing next to him, there’s two toddlers in their place. They’re unmistakably Dean and Cas; they’ve got the same features and Sam vaguely remembers seeing pictures of Dean around this age. He thinks about trying to fire a shot, but if this witch is stealing knowledge, he’s got all of Dean’s hunting knowledge and knows what their plan is. So instead, he picks up both toddlers and hightails it back to the Impala. “Well that didn’t go well.” Sam startles as Cas speaks. The voice isn’t the same; this one’s much higher-pitched and way more gentle than Cas’s normal tone. “Wait, you… how can you still talk like that?” He manages to get out, setting both toddlers in the back and climbing behind the wheel. “I’m clearly immune to the spell.” He can hear the snark in the angel’s voice, but he doesn’t comment on it as Cas continues. “My knowledge is contained within my grace. The witch only gained Jimmy’s knowledge which is… mostly selling advertisements.” “Ah.” Sam says intelligently. If he’s being honest, he’s more than a little startled by this turn of events. He glances at his brother and Cas in the rearview mirror. Dean still hasn’t said a word and his gaze is currently glued to his hands. All of a sudden, it dawns on Sam. “Hey, uh, Cas? How old would you say you guys are?” Cas glances at Dean quickly before answering. “Around four. Maybe shortly before five? I’m not entirely sure. Why?” Sam clears his throat quietly, pulling into the motel parking lot. “If that witch took all his knowledge… he’d only remember what had happened up until whatever age he is, right?” Castiel nods along but doesn’t elaborate, so Sam presses on. “Which means Dean’s right around the age that Mom died…” He lets the sentence trail off, but Cas doesn’t seem to see where he’s going with this. He’s not entirely surprised Castiel doesn’t know. It was a dark time in Dean’s life, one Sam can’t even hope to remember. He knows a bit from reading John’s journal, but John’s view of things was… distorted, to say the least, so he’s not sure how accurate it is. Nonetheless, both Castiel and Dean follow him into their motel room, the latter staying silent. Sam sighs and turns his gaze to Castiel. “After Mom died, Dean didn’t talk for about a year. According to Dad’s journal, anyway. He just… stopped communicating. Not that he needed to with me, since I was a baby, but he didn’t say a word for a little more than a year.” Castiel frowns and the gesture looks so out of place on such a young face. “Oh. That… explains why he hasn’t been talking. He also won’t remember me.” The angel turns to Dean, sitting next to him on their bed. “Dean? My name’s Castiel. You can call me Cas if you want to.” Dean nods, but his eyes stay glued to the floor and he doesn’t say a word. Sam sighs and runs a hand through his own hair. “The witch has all of Dean’s hunting knowledge now, which means he knows all of our plays. We’re gonna have to find a new way to deal with him.” Castiel nods in agreement, stifling a yawn and sighing. “Dean and I will have to sleep, unfortunately. My grace is occupied at the moment, so I’m at the whims of this vessel. I’m sure Dean’s tired as well.” Sam and Cas both turn to look at Dean, who nods slightly. Cas hums his approval and pushes himself onto his feet. “Come on, Dean, let’s go get ready for bed. We can figure everything out in the morning.” Dean doesn’t say anything, but he does follow Cas to the bathroom and get ready for bed, so Sam’s counting it as a win.                                                       ✤ The next morning is a flurry of movement. Sam gets breakfast for the three of them and settles in at the table. Dean eats, thankfully, and Cas helps him get ready while Sam looks for a way to take down the witch. “Um, Sam? I hate to be a bother but… Dean and I don’t have any other clothes. And we’re going to need car seats if you’re planning on not getting arrested.” Sam blinks at his screen for a moment before turning to Castiel. “I… right, yeah. Didn’t even think about that. Um… let’s go now. I think there’s a Target nearby, we can get both for pretty cheap.” Castiel nods and motions for Dean to follow him. Sam stays where he is, allowing himself a moment to just watch his brother. He’s never seen Dean from this angle. Dean’s always been the stronger older brother. It’s… strange and utterly disconcerting to see him like this. Quietly and mostly to himself, he says, “We’ll get you back to yourself, Dean. I promise.” Dean doesn’t acknowledge him, but Sam hadn’t really expected him to. The ride to Target is silent. Castiel doesn’t have anything to say and Sam’s not going to push his brother to talk if he doesn’t want to, so silence remains. He parks as close to the entrance as he can, ushering both kids inside and grabbing a cart. The car seats are the closest, so they get those first. He picks up the least expensive, most functional ones, since they’ll hopefully only need them for the duration of this case. Not that they’re paying for them anyway, since new credit cards had just come for them a few days ago. With the car seats picked out, they move on to the kids clothing section. Sam gets a few looks from people, but for the most part they’re left alone. He lets both of them pick out clothes for themselves. Dean picks out an overabundance of blue shirts, which… okay. Cas has an armful of clothes that match in no way whatsoever, but Sam just shakes his head and lets the two continue. Much to his surprise, though, Dean walks over to Cas and ducks his head as he holds out the shirts to Castiel. The angel turns to glance at Sam, the confusion on his face painfully evident. That’s when Sam finally realizes: all the shirts are nearly the same color as Castiel’s eyes. Sam shrugs and Castiel accepts the shirts with a murmured “Thank you, Dean.” Dean picks out some clothes for himself and, once everything’s been tried on and loaded into the cart, they head back to the front of the store to check out. Sam winces at the final bill, but he won’t be paying for it anyway. He swipes the card, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes through without a problem. He takes the receipt from the cashier and heads back out to the car. He loads the clothes into the trunk before turning to stare at the car seats. He’s never actually had to put a car seat in, so he sends a silent prayer to Chuck, hoping instructions are included. He doesn’t realize, but sometime in the midst of him installing the car seats, Dean wanders off to a grassy patch of the parking lot and plops down on the ground, carefully picking all the flowers within his reach. By the time Sam turns around to load them into the car, Dean’s approaching him and Castiel with the stems of the flowers clutched in his small hand. Castiel watches him with wide eyes, taking the flowers gently when Dean offers them, though the Winchester’s eyes are pointedly glued on the ground. “Thank you, Dean.” Dean nods, and Sam can see a slight flush on his brother’s cheeks. It brings a grin to his lips, despite the current situation. “I think he’s got a little-kid crush on you, Cas.” A blush colors the angel’s cheeks and Sam finds his grin widening. He gets both of them settled into the car seats, looking for a place for lunch on his phone. They have a quick lunch at a local restaurant before heading back to the motel. As they’re walking into the room, Dean taps Cas on the shoulder gently. “What’s wrong?” Cas asks as he turns to look at Dean. Dean holds his small fist out toward Cas, so Castiel holds his hand out, palm up. Dean opens his hand and drops a necklace into Cas’s. Sam steps forward to take a closer look, eyes widening when he sees a sapphire. “Dean, did you take that from the store?” Dean shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate further. “Is… is there something you want me to do with this, Dean?” Castiel asks gently, glancing down at the necklace. Dean’s lips move a few times before he looks up to meet Cas’s gaze. “’S a pretty color, like your eyes. Want you t’have it.” Castiel and Sam glances at each other with wide eyes. Dean flushes and looks down at his feet, clasping his hands together in front of him. Castiel rests his free hand on Dean’s, his voice gentle. “Thank you, Dean. It’s lovely.” “Where’d you get it, Dean?” Sam asks, turning to sit on the bed. Dean chews his lip a moment before answering. “The house we were in las’ night. Was on the floor.” Castiel furrows his eyebrows and is turning to Sam before Sam even has a chance to speak. “This is an instrument of his magic, Sam. Perhaps, if we can find the right spell, we can undo what he’s done and return everyone to their rightful selves.” Sam raises his eyebrows, glancing at the necklace. “Great. Point me in the direction, what kind of spell am I looking for?” Castiel hums in thought, brushing a thumb over the sapphire. “The spell he recited was Celtic, so some sort of undo spell in the Celtic language. Perhaps Rowena could be of service? I’ve heard her perform several Celtic spells.” Sam nods and pulls out his phone, dialing Rowena’s number as he moves to the small table in the room. She picks up on the second ring. “Samuel. Nice to hear from you outside of apocalypse times. What can I do for ya?” He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling softly. “Hey. So, uh, slight problem.” He can picture Rowena rolling her eyes as she speaks. “There always is with you three. Merry band of misfits, I swear. What can I help you boys with?” Sam chuckles and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “So we’re working a case in Laverne, Ohio. Turns out it was a witch who was de-aging people so he could take their knowledge.” Rowena sighs. “Let me take a guess: Castiel and Dean got hit with the spell and you need me to come undo it.” Sam chuckles nervously. “I, uh… could you?” “Of course, Samuel. Charlie and I are only a few hours away, we’ll be there soon.” He hears the click on the other end that signals Rowena hanging up, so he sets his phone on the table. “Alright, so Rowena’s on her way. How do we get the other people turned back? They’re in the custody of CPS, it’s not gonna be easy to get to them.” “We may not need to.” Castiel says, sitting on the bed next to Dean. “We may only need a sample of their DNA, like some hair or something left over in their houses. Ask Rowena, we can collect it while she’s driving.” Sam snorts. “We? No offense man, but I don’t think you two are gonna be much help. You can barely reach the doorknob.” Castiel rolls his eyes. “I’m more than capable of opening a door, Sam, and I’m sure Dean is. We-” Castiel stops himself and turns to look at Dean, frowning. “Perhaps you’re right. I’d forgotten that Dean’s lost all of his hunting knowledge.” Dean huffs, squirming in his seat. “Why d’you talk ‘bout me like ‘m not here?” “Apologies, Dean. It’s just… there’s a lot you don’t remember right now.” Dean stays quiet, but he shifts closer to Castiel. Sam sends Rowena a quick text asking what she needs, bringing up the victim’s addresses just in case. Sure enough, all they need is a sample of DNA. He knows he shouldn’t, but he leaves Dean and Cas in the motel room as he goes to collect it. It’s dark enough that he can get into the houses unseen. It takes him less than an hour to get a sample from all the victims. Rowena and Charlie are there by the time he gets back. He shoulders the door open, smiling gratefully at them. “I brought dinner.” Charlie grins. “Mm, real food. I’ll never get enough of it.” She grabs one of the Styrofoam containers, dropping onto the bed with Dean and Cas. “I can’t believe you let your brother and best friend get turned into little kids.” Sam scoffs. “I didn’t let them, they were ahead of me!” Rowena simply rolls her eyes, holding out a hand. “I presume you’ve got samples from the other victims?” Sam nods and motions to the various bags on the table. “One from each, yeah. Do you know how to fix it?” Rowena looks mildly insulted, snatching the bags off the table. “I’m a centuries old witch, Sam, reversing a simple de-aging spell is easy. I could do it in my sleep.” She motions for Charlie to help her, grabbing a book, the necklace, and a few spell ingredients. Everything gets set on the ground in an orderly pile before she walks over to Dean and Cas and plucks a few hairs from their heads. Cas winces but Dean full-on flinches away from her, which is concerning to say the least. He seems to relax once Cas’s hand finds it’s way onto Dean’s knee, though. It’s remarkable how much Dean relaxes with just a simple touch from Cas. Rowena’s done with the spell a few minutes later. It’s silent for a moment, and Dean and Cas are still in the bodies of five-year-olds. Sam turns to ask her what the hell went wrong when the blindingly-bright light from the witch’s house fills the tiny motel room. He and Charlie both cover their eyes while Rowena sits there unfazed. When Sam opens his eyes again, Dean and Cas are sitting on the bed as their normal, age-appropriate selves. Sam breathes a sigh of relief and pulls both Rowena and Charlie into a hug. “Thank you guys so much, I was at my wit’s end.” Rowena brushes off the thanks, chuckling. “Can you boys handle this witch on your own or do I need to take care of that too?” Sam flushes, glancing at Dean and Cas, who simply shrug. “I-I… you’re welcome to stay if you want to. We know where he lives, and he won’t be expecting us.” Rowena raises an eyebrow. “I’m certain he felt the reversal of his magic. If he isn’t already, he’ll be on his way here. Sooner, rather than later.” The sound of the door’s lock clicking open has them all turning to face the door. Dean and Cas both dive for their guns as Sam pulls his from his waistband, training it on the door. Charlie pulls a gun from her waistband as well, copying Sam and aiming it at the door. It all happens in an adrenaline-fueled blur. The four of them pull the trigger before the witch can even get a word out. Rowena doesn’t even flinch, just crosses her arms. “Well that certainly wasn’t the smartest. We’re in a motel, not the woods.” The four of them glance at each other, eyes wide. Clearly, none of them had thought of that. Rowena sighs and rolls her eyes, collecting her things. “Idiots. Get the body and let’s get the hell out of here, I’ll wipe you from the security tapes.” Sam smiles sheepishly at her, helping Dean and Cas load the witch’s body into the Impala’s trunk. Dean grumbles about the bloodstains, but for the most part goes along with it. They’re gone in five minutes. Charlie and Rowena go their separate way not long after leaving the motel. They boys pull off when they get to a particularly woody area, finding a clear spot and digging a pit before doubling back for the body. They’ve got it salted and burned in a few minutes, Dean and Cas both rubbing at their eyes as the flames blaze in front of them. The walk back to the car is silent, save for the chirping of a few crickets and a wolf howling in the distance. They agree to clean the trunk once they’re back at the bunker and Sam offers to drive home so Dean and Cas can rest. He can’t resist, though, as they’re climbing in the car. “So, Dean, you think Cas’s eyes are a pretty color?” Dean’s face grows bright red and he fixes his brother with a glare over the hood of the car. “You shut your mouth and get in the damn car.” Sam laughs, grinning to himself as he slides behind the wheel. Dean and Cas both climb in the back and the ride is silent for a few moments before Dean speaks again. “Look, you can’t tell me his eyes aren’t pretty. Especially when they do the whole glowing thing when we’re-” Sam knows exactly where this is going, so he switches the radio on and turns it up, drowning his brother out. His brother and Castiel are both snickering in the back seat and, despite nearly being scarred for life, Sam’s got a content smile on his face as well. Their laughter is contagious, though, and soon Sam’s snickering right along with them. The three of them haven’t laughed like this since they brought everyone through the rift, nearly a year ago now. Sam can’t help but enjoy the moment, even though it was borne of his brother very nearly letting Sam in on some things about their relationship he’s very content not knowing. All in all, the case wasn’t too bad. And, despite seeing Dean so vulnerable, it was actually pretty entertaining. Not to mention the fact that he’s got plenty of blackmail material for future use. A glance in the rearview mirror shows that Dean and Cas are both sound asleep just as they cross the border into Kansas. Castiel is curled into Dean’s side, with Dean’s arm loosely slung around the angel’s shoulders. It’s such a soft sight, and certainly not something Sam had ever expected to see from his uber-macho, ladies-man older brother. It’s cute, he thinks to himself. He’s happy for them. They’re good for each other. That doesn’t mean he’s ever letting Dean live this down.