#and yeah i know that hell and heaven track their uses of miracles or whatever

[cuntfan]

I appreciate Crowley's commitment to the existential depressed out-of- a-job aesthetic. Like my man has been a demon living on Earth for 6000 years and could easily pull some strings to get a house somewhere. He could miracle some money. He could live with his best friend (or whatever) who owns an entire street worth of property. Nope, he decides to live out of his car and LITERALLY sleep in it despite the fact that he doesn't even need to do that. Just sheer dramatics for the sake of dramatics.

#good omens #Crowley #and yeah i know that hell and heaven track their uses of miracles or whatever #but im sure he could do SOMETHING #especially given the two sides generally idgaf attitude

[mxpseudonym]

Thoughtless

Pairing: John Shelby x Fem!Reader

Summary: John takes you being hired to audit his work as an insult. Not to mention, you’re too smug about catching his mistakes. John needs to teach you a lesson. John Shelby mocks you for being fucked stupid for 1500 words straight.  

Length: 1585 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Dangerous for work, dirty talk, belittling 

A/N: Super tempted to call this “head empty.” This is the first time I’ve ever had any motive to write John and I think it’s pretty damn good. Also, gets a bit sweet at the end.  

The pads of John's fingers dipped into the soft crevices of your skin, pulling your hips higher and sliding your dress and slip further up your waist. He marveled at the way he was already shining with your wetness as he slowly moved out of you and the way you seemed to suck him back in. You whimpered, feeling every slight movement as he moved. 

"Heaven and hell, love. You're that far gone already?" John groaned out, still watching the view he could only have with you bent over his desk, chest pressed to the surface. You wanted to bite back at his teasing remark, but it was unfortunately correct.

Tommy Shelby hired you to do a twice-weekly audit of John's books at the betting shop. Your boss swore it was because the derby was coming up, and there needed to be a better system as the business grew. However, John took it as a message: some woman could do his job better than he could. You endured the glares and scoffs from the handsome young Shelby for weeks and gave as good as you got. It just so happened that one night you both stayed late to finish the bookkeeping, and John brought out a bottle of whiskey. 

"We don't need you, you know? Just nice to look at," he slurred while pointing at you. You leaned forward with an arched eyebrow. 

"I catch your mistakes every week, John-boy. But I do agree. I am nice to look at." 

Arrogance met cockiness, and it didn't take long before you were pressed against the wall, paying the price of your smugness. As an unlikely pair, it was surprisingly easy to keep anything between you two a secret. The only problem was, as efficient as call and response, whenever John gave you that look and sent irritated jabs your way, your body reacted with anticipation for what was to come after hours. Today you received "you think you're smarter than me, love" after changing his sums on the chalkboard. 

In conclusion: of course you were already far gone. 

"Oi!" John's hand landed hard against your backside as he picked up the pace. "Where's your head, y/n? Too distracted to use your voice today? Or is that head empty after all?" You looked over your shoulder at him with fierceness. 

"Just thinking about how good this feels after a long day cleaning up after you." 

The words were said with whatever remaining bravery you had lying around and with good reason. John paused mid-stroke, and for a moment, you feared you'd gone too far. No matter the outcome, that sentiment was probably correct. John lifted your leg onto the desk in a quick movement, giving himself more room before leaning over you. 

"If there's one thing I like about you, y/n," John breathed in your ear. "You challenge me. Right now, you've helped me realize that, if that pretty mouth of yours can still speak and that pretty head of yours can still think, I'm probably not doing a good enough job." 

His hips snapped forward, slamming into you with one smooth movement that made you cry out. John was only consistent in that he was entirely inconsistent. His strokes were long and hard or shallow and fast, or some mix of both. No matter the pace, they remained intense enough to send you over the edge quickly when paired with John's fingers abusing your clit.

"John, please, slow," 

"Huh? What was that?" He stopped you between his own pants. John blessed his stamina. Without it, he'd have been finished long ago. Hell, you'd look particularly pretty that day anyway, and it had worked him up, so lasting this long was a miracle in itself. Your snarky little comments just happened to conjure up enough motivation for him to outlast you several times over.  

"John, John," you whimpered with your forehead pressed against the desk. You knew what you meant. You wanted to say that he was going to leave you used for all you were worth if he kept hitting that spot deep in you, but damn if you could even think straight. 

"What the fuck are you even trying to say right now, y/n? You sound, what did you call it? Belligerent?" 

He was only spurred on by those noises you were making. Fuck, you sounded better every time you came. He gripped your arm and pulled you back against his chest.

"Mm, I, ah!" Your eyes snapped closed, and another release came over you. Though not as powerful as your first two, it still made you lean your weight on John. He took your earlobe between his teeth and groped your breasts that he'd been quick to expose after your catalyst of a remark.

"If Tommy heard you right now, he'd wonder why he even hired you. Can't even say a full sentence after a bit of dick, huh?" 

He spat the words like he was disgusted, and the sentiment went straight to your lower belly. Why did you like this? You didn't have an answer. You didn't have anything beyond acceptance of how good you were feeling. You turned your head to look back at the man responsible for this. 

In the dim light of the office, John could still clearly make out a face he'd never forget. Slack-jawed and only able to pant and whine, you looked at John with glossy, pleading, heavily hooded eyes. 

"Fuck," he swore as his cock twitched inside of you. "Poor baby, should I give you more?" The sound you made in response could have meant anything, but John laughed and took it as approval. "Fuckin' hell, you're a mess." 

"Please, please," you pleaded softly, making John smirk. 

"That's right, do what you do best. Beg for this cock, y/n." 

He'd lost track of how long you were at it, and even he was reaching his limit. Still, when he pulled out of you, he sat in his office chair and reached for you again. It was almost too much, sinking onto him yet a new position, but you couldn't help but accept how overtaken by desire you were. 

John paused for a moment and took you in. You bit your lip as he stroked your cheek for a moment. His thumb pulled your bottom lip free before he leaned in and kissed you. 

"I've got a task for you, y/n. Don't worry, I'll make it, so you don't need to know anything." John chuckled when a slight pout came to your face. He gripped your hips and began rocking them, making your eyes roll back. "All you need to do is ride me just like this so I can empty my balls, yeah? Even you can do that." 

"Oh god," you moaned. 

You'd meant to say that you'd make John pay for this later, or even a simple "fuck you." Instead, you fell forward and completed your assignment with John's belittling praise in your ear. John's breathing got more erratic, and he started thrusting into you with no rhyme or reason, just release on the brain. 

"Let me see you," he ordered you. 

You leaned back and looked at him with those eyes again, and you were still making those noises despite yourself. How should he finish? In this state, he could push you on your knees and make you swallow him if he wanted. But something stopped him, maybe that he did intend to walk you home later and he didn't want to humiliate you too much. Not yet, anyway. 

He quickly lifted you off of him, making you sit back on his thighs as he gripped himself. He was too focused on the fast-approaching release that he didn't see you move until your hands were taking over for him, stroking with a firm grip. You'd never handled him that way before, and that surprise, coupled with the warmth of your palms, had him spilling over your fingers with bucking hips and a loud groan. 

John stole a cloth from the kitchen after you caught your breath and helped you clean up enough that you didn't ruin your slip on the walk home. You imagined it was probably a side effect of fatherhood, but John was surprisingly doting. 

"I'm walking you in, no buts about it," John told you as he walked into your flat and began helping you with your coat. 

"You don't have to-" 

"Did you eat?" He stopped you. Now that he mentioned it, you hadn't had anything since noon. 

"I didn't yet." Your voice was already sleepy. 

"Alright, I'll run a bath and then make some tea and something quick. I know about three meals that won't burn the bloody building down," John chuckled. His flushed face was turning slightly bashful. 

"Thank you." 

"Can't have you going weak, can I?" He scratched the back of his head. Despite your insistence, John rolled up his sleeves and helped you into the bath. Before he could leave you to begin searching your cabinets, he paused at the door, turning to you. "I keep telling Katie how smart you are and how she can be like that, too, so don't go taking any of that stuff to heart." 

You blinked after him, then smiled softly to yourself, sliding further into the bath. John Shelby was a dangerous man in more ways than one. 

--

Bonus script: 

"Can you check this?"

"I thought all I could do was beg?"

"Good grief, don't hold it over my head!" 

#John Shelby does not tolerate haughtiness #Also he's a good dad #John Shelby #John Shelby Smut #John shelby Fanfiction #John Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Peaky Blinders Smut

[apocalypseornaw]

Always be Yours- 18

Word Count: 3,556

Story Summary: Follows Dean and the Reader through season 9 into season 10

Chapter Summary: When a showdown against Metatron finally comes to be a great loss happens

Warnings: Cursing, fighting, blood character death

Cas and Sam grabbed Dean so you bodily put yourself between him and Gadreel as he fought against both of them. The look in his eyes was more animalistic than man and made a slight shiver creep up your spine at seeing the man you loved like that. 

He threw Cas off then spun on Sam. “Drop the blade Dean!” Sam tried. “Move” Dean snarled in warning. “Dean look at me” Sam tried again but Dean shouted “SAM! MOVE!” You saw Cas coming up behind Dean so you stepped further in front of Gadreel “Dean..baby please drop the blade” Cas grabbed him and Sam jumped to pry the blade from his hand so you gripped his arm tightly where the mark was “DROP THE DAMN BLADE DEAN!” 

He was still struggling against Sam and Cas but did at least let the blade go. You nodded to Cas “Get him to the armory” you glanced back at Gadreel “Stay here” then followed the three of them down the hallway hearing Dean struggle against Sam and Cas the entire way.

------

You stood back closer to the door watching as Dean paced in front of Sam and Cas like a caged animal. He finally stopped in front of them and glanced over at you before saying “The hell if either of you think I’m riding the pine on this one”

“Something is wrong with you, Dean” Sam argued so you pushed off the wall to stand between the two of them “And until we figure out what, this is where you have to stay” he shook his head “And what are you three gonna do sweetheart? Take on Metatron yourself? That’s real smart” when neither of you rose to his words he pointed at Cas “You lost your angel army” then looked back at you and Sam “And the two of you are wanting to lock up the one guy who has a shot at killing the son of a bitch! Hell of a plan!” You didn’t blink an eye despite his anger. You were calm as you spoke “Dean, listen to yourself. You know this isn’t you” then turned to walk out hearing Sam and Cas follow you closely.

You stopped with tears in your eyes as Sam and Cas locked Dean in the armory. “Look, guys..Sam...Sammy...Y/N c’mon baby” you walked out into the hall ignoring his pleas and when the two of them followed you it was you who slid the last lock into place on the door.

------

You grabbed the first aid kit and headed for the map room while Sam and Cas were talking in the library. Instead of finding a wounded Gadreel you instead found a trail of blood leading out the bunker “Sam! Cas!” you hollered and they came running in behind you. You nodded towards the trail “Apparently he didn’t take the whole being stabbed thing too well” 

You kicked the chair nearest to you from pure frustration. You were losing Dean to that mark, as bad as you hated to admit it the truth was staring you in the face. Metatron was out there gaining power by the moment and the only possible ally was now awol. “SON OF A BITCH” you threw the kit across the floor and watched as bandages went everywhere when it slammed into the wall. Sam gently touched your shoulder and you flinched away from him “C’mon. We gotta find him”

------

All of you took Cas’ car and it didn’t take long to track Gadreel down. His car was abandoned with the driver’s door still open. Sam pulled to a stop behind it. The three of you walked slowly up to it and you saw the pool of blood in the driver’s seat. You motioned down to the ground “He left a trail”

You followed the blood with Sam and Cas behind you. You crouched down when you got to Gadreel and he immediately put a hand up as if to shield himself from another blow “Please, I’ll leave you alone, I swear” “We’re not here to hurt you” Cas told him as he crouched next to you. Cas reached out to heal him but Gadreel pulled back and shook his head “No, your grace. Healing me would only weaken you” You felt your stomach lurch at his words.Christ he really had just been a puppet for Metatron hadn’t he?  

Cas reached forward anyways and healed him. You watched the slash disappear from Gadreel’s chest but saw Cas sway slightly. You leaned across Gadreel to steady Cas. Both angels glanced at you before looking at each other “Did you hear him?” Gadreel asked and Cas nodded “Yes” 

You rocked back on your heels and looked up at Sam before asking “Where’s Metatron going? What’s he doing?” Gadreel met your eyes slowly “I’m afraid..humanity” You looked at Sam then Cas before offering your hand to Gadreel “In that case you need to come with us cause we got to work together to stop him” You helped Gadreel to his feet then nodded back to Cas’ car “Let’s get back to the bunker”

------

You followed Sam down the stairs in front of the two angels. Your nose burnt with the smell of sulfur the moment you stepped into the library “Oh no” you saw the box Sam had locked the first blade in sitting open on the table. You ran down the hall to the armory without another word.

You saw that the door was open so you walked slowly inside and the moment you crossed the threshold you smelt burnt herbs and spotted the objects used for a summoning spell. The moment all of you had left Dean must have summoned that red eyed bastard. He didn’t care what that mark did to Dean, hell he was the reason he’d gotten it.

------

You were standing next to Sam while he tried Dean considering he didn’t answer your call. “Are you sure it was Crowley?” Cas asked and you nodded “We’ve summoned him before. I recognize the ingredients” “Besides who else would it be? Him and Crowley have been bromancing over the blade since he got the mark” Sam added and Gadreel questioned “The mark” you turned to face him “The mark of Cain” “So that’s what Dean cut me with, the first blade?” you nodded “One and the same”

He was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking over something before he spoke “In a way that could be useful” “What?” Sam asked before you could. Gadreel glanced between the three of you “Well, Metatron is more powerful than ever, but if Dean had the first blade and the mark that might give us our best chance” “You’re joking right?” you asked glancing around at the three men “An hour ago we were ready to throw him in a padded cell and now he’s on the front line?”

“Hear him out Y/N” Cas said and you cut your eyes at him. “Sorry that we’re a little less than eager to hear our best chance is arming the warhead and hoping it hits the mark” Sam spoke up in agreement with you. “This isn’t a bomb we’re talking about. It’s the man I love” you emphasized “And my brother” Sam added.

Gadreel argued “He would not be in this alone. We can help” “How?” you asked standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with Sam, the two of you facing the two angels. “I believe Metatron has found a way to tap into the angel tablet. Harnessing its power to give him power equivalent to..” “God,right?” Sam cut him off and he nodded “That’s what this is all about isn’t it? Metatron wants to be god” you offered with a shrug and Gadreel nodded. “Great. Well that makes him basically unstoppable” Sam scoffed.

Cas shook his head “Not if we can break the connection between Metatron and the tablet. That would make him just an ordinary angel” then glanced at Gadreel to ask “Where’s the tablet?” “In Metatron’s office” “In heaven?” Sam asked to which Gadreel offered “I can get us to the door” “And then what? They would just let you in? Metatron’s number two showing up with heaven’s most wanted is gonna make them have some questions” you argued.

“Y/N we have to try” Cas said and you met his eyes and felt yourself deflate slightly. He was right but damn you didn’t have to like it. 

------

Cas and Gadreel left the bunker to go to heaven so after you put out a hunter bolo and got a ping on a “miracle” in Muncie, Indiana you and Sam hit the road to get there before Dean.  You’d already looked for the lady involved and were waiting at her camper when baby rolled into the trailer park.

You spotted Crowley in the passenger seat and cursed under your breath. “You handle it” you told Sam stepping slightly behind him. When Dean walked up Sam said “Guess one of us doesn’t need a demon to found a clue trail. You’re looking for miracle lady right?” Crowley had gotten out the impala and you glared at him. “She’s gone by the way. We had a nice chat with her though” you added looking from Crowley back to Dean.

He tilted his head slightly “Sweetheart whatever type of intervention you and Sammy think this is trust me, it ain't. I’m not gonna explain myself to either of you”

“Yeah we got that” you bit back looking away from him because it hurt to see that uncaring look pointed towards you and Sam of all people. Sam spoke up motioning between Dean and Crowley “Thought you might want to know while you two have been playing odd couple your real friends, like Cas, like the angel you stabbed Gadreel they’re out there risking their asses right now to help you win this fight” “What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked but Sam was mid sentence and continued “A fight I might add you made that much more complicated when you decided to stab the one angel who could actually get us to Metatron”

“You mean the angel that took you for a joy ride? The angel that slaughtered Kevin? That angel?” Dean argued and you realized the two had taken a step closer to each other so you stepped between them refusing to see the two most important people in your life physically fight if you could stop it.

Sam spoke over your head to Dean “Who you let in the front door in the first place. You and Y/N tricked me Dean. And now I’m the one who wakes up in the middle of the night seeing my hands kill Kevin not you! So please when you say you don’t want to explain anything to us don’t. I get it so does she”

“And we also get that Metatron has got to go and we know you’re our best shot” You added and Dean looked from you to Sam before saying “I’m gonna take my shot for better or worse” “We know” Sam replied and you felt your heart drop no matter how much you’d prepared yourself when Dean said “No matter the consequences” “We know” you replied and was proud when your voice remained steady despite how you felt on the inside.

“But if this is it, We’re gonna do it together. You want to know what he whispered to her right? It was his next stop” Sam told Dean and Crowley then spoke up “So what are we all gollywagging on about? Chop-chop”  Dean turned to face him and he shrugged “Excuse me. I’m not exactly demon minion number three here. As the kids say, I’ve got mad skills” you remained in place next to Sam as Dean walked over to Crowley “Look I don’t know what you expected here ok. I don’t really care but you wanted off the hamster wheel get off.”  Crowley scoffed “Guess I’ve been Winchestered” he glanced over at you and Sam “I’d wish you three good luck if I thought it would help. When he disappeared you cleared your throat “So we hunting an angel or what?” and walked past Dean to baby and climbed into the backseat without another word.

------

You sat silent in the backseat staring at Dean in the mirror. He’d yet to meet your eyes but you couldn’t take yours away from him. You could very well lose him by the time this fight was over. How the hell were you supposed to face losing yet another person? Let alone one that you loved as deeply as you loved him. How the hell was Sam supposed to face the possibility of losing him? Why the hell hadn’t you stopped him from going after the first blade to start with?

When you got to Metatron’s next stop Dean parked the impala and the three of you climbed out. Sam looked between the two of you then pointed down the road “I’m gonna head up and check it out. See if there’s any chatter about Marv” you nodded and chunked an angel blade to him “Watch your six Sammy” he cut his eyes towards Dean then walked away.

You couldn’t help but notice the tremor in Dean’s hand that only stilled when he touched the covered blade. “Dean” you spoke softly, letting your hand gently cover his. He closed his eyes for a moment “Y/N, please know no matter what happens I love you” you took a deep breath and squeezed his hand gently “I love you too Dean” the two of you stood like that for a few moments until the sound of footsteps made you draw apart until you both realized it was Sam “Anything?” Dean asked and Sam nodded “About a mile up the road. There’s a homeless encampment. The way folks are talking, he’s got them convinced he’s some kind of new jesus or something” you laughed humorlessly. “You good?” Sam asked Dean who nodded “Yeah I’m good”

Dean looked at Sam then back at you “Sammy can I have a minute with Y/N?” Sam nodded “Of course” and walked a bit aways turning his back also to give the two of you more privacy. He gently grabbed your arm and led you back to the front of the impala before pulling you against his chest “Kiss for good luck?” you gave him a small smile “Always” and leaned up to gently brush your lips against his. 

He deepened the kiss and you barely saw the movement when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rag but when he pulled back to put the rag over your nose and mouth the smell of chloroform was chokingly strong. You gave him a questioning look as you faded and barely heard him say “I’m sorry. I can’t risk you”

------

The next thing you knew Sam was shaking you awake. “Y/N wake up!” you were already pushing to your feet so he reached out to help you “What the hell happened?” you asked as the two of you took off at a run for the homeless encampment “Dean chloroformed you and knocked me out. He didn’t want us in the fight against Metatron” Sam replied and you pushed your legs harder to keep up with him as the two of you ran into the encampment.

There were people around fires and the moment the two of you stepped into view every set of eyes turned. Two people stepped in front of you in an attempt to block your path. You and Sam both didn’t hesitate to pull your guns “Step back now!” you ordered and Sam asked “Where’s Metatron?” a blonde woman pointed to the warehouse in the center of the encampment “In there” you popped Sam’s shoulder “C’mon!”

------

You and Sam ran through the warehouse side by side. You could feel your heart threatening to burst out of your chest from fear for Dean. Both of you skidded to a stop when you came around a corner in enough time to see Metatron sink an angel blade into Dean’s chest. “NO” you screamed, forcing your feet to carry you to his side. Metatron stood back grinning like the mug bastard he was as you and Sam ran to Dean’s side.

You hit your knees helping Sam to pull him back sitting up “Baby,Dean” you smoothed your hand down his face willing him to stay alive. You couldn’t lose him. The sound of thunder crashing rumbled through the warehouse. Sam slashed towards Metatron but only met with thin air.

Your hand ghosted over the hole in Dean’s chest and met his eyes with a tear filled smile “C’mon baby. You’ve survived worse. You can survive this. Don’t leave us please don’t leave us” Dean looked up at Sam weakly “Sammy get her out of here before he comes back” you ripped your jacket off and held it against Dean’s chest “Shut up worrying about me ok? Save your energy” Sam moved to hold pressure also his larger hands covering yours “She’s right. We’ll stop the bleeding. We’ll get you a doctor or find a spell. You’re gonna be ok”

You were fighting to stay strong, Dean didn’t need to see you break but your heart was crumbling in your chest. “You’re gonna be ok Dean” you all but whispered. He covered both of your hands with his “Listen to me..it’s better this way” “What?” you asked feeling the first hot tears slide down your face. You could see your hands shaking under his and Sam’s. 

Sam moved one hand to hold Dean up by the shoulder. “The mark. It’s making me into something I don’t want to be.” “Don’t worry about the mark. We’ll figure out the mark later just hold on ok?” Sam told him and tapped your shoulder for you to move so he could get him up.

You moved to support Dean’s other shoulder even though Sam was taking most of his weight so you could hold your jacket against his wound. The man you loved was dying and you were helpless to do anything about it. You were barely making your legs work. “What happened to you being ok with this?” he asked Sam who replied “I lied” 

------

The three of you hadn’t made it far before Dean said “Sam, hold up” Sam eased him down on one of the concrete pillars. You were both supporting him, he couldn’t hold himself up by that point but said “I need to say something” “What?” you managed to choke out past your tears. He touched Sam’s face and left a bloody mark behind “I’m proud of us” then touched yours “and I love you” “I love you too Dean” you barely got out before he fell over onto Sam and you knew he was gone.

You felt your knees go out from under you as you slid down to the floor of the warehouse “No..no..noo” Sam shook calling his name and begging him to wake up “He’s gone Sam” you sobbed forcing yourself to your feet. “He’s gone” 

------

The ride home to the bunker you sat in the backseat with Dean’s head in your lap. You were tracing the line of his jaw with just your fingertips. “I’ll always love you” you whispered into the dark.

When you pulled to a stop at the bunker Sam eased the backdoor open so you helped him to get Dean’s body out and into his arm. You followed him from the garage to the room where you’d spent so many nights in Dean’s arms.

Sam gently laid his body onto the bed and you felt your knees weaken yet again “I can’t. I’m sorry I can’t” you ran from the room and Sam found you crying in the library. 

He sat a bottle of bourbon in front of you “Take a drink” you did what he said taking a long swig then looked up at him “What are we supposed to do now?” he sat down next to you and grabbed the bottle. After he took a long drink he looked back at you “C’mon” “Where are we going Sam?” you asked weakly as he pulled you to your feet “Crowley got him into this, Crowley can get him out”

You knew it probably wouldn’t work but Sam was just as heartbroken as you were and if there was just a glimmer of hope of getting Dean back by god you’d do anything.

Tags: @facadeformyrealblog @akshi8278 @brilovesdeanwinchester

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #always be yours

[wanderingcas]

5 times Dean had work to do, and the one time he actually enjoyed it.  pairing: dean/cas a commission for @jensenackhles <3 2k words

One 

Dean first heard the phrase a few weeks after his mom died.

John had checked them into a motel—one of the many that they had cycled through in the past few weeks. Sam was asleep in the crib, and John was on the opposite bed. Dean had woken up to a strange sound; he rolled over and saw John at the foot of the bed, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

Dean had never seen his dad cry before. Even right after the fire, when he was telling the detectives what happened at the police station: completely dry-eyed. So seeing his dad cry was… strange. Dean wanted to make it stop. 

He pushed back the sheets and hopped off the bed. Walking on unsteady, sleepy toddler legs to his dad, he put either hand on John’s knees, looking up at him. John was clutching a worn picture of Mary between his fingers.

“Are you okay, dad?” Dean asked.

John continued to stare at the picture of Mary’s smiling face. After a moment, he sniffed. Wiped his face that was striped with tears with the back of his hand. He ruffled Dean’s hair and said gruffly, “Yeah, kid. I’m fine. Get back to sleep, okay? We got work to do in the morning.”

And the next morning in the car, when Sam was crying in his carseat and kicking up a storm, Dean patted his head and said, “It’s okay, Sammy, shh. Stop crying. We got work to do, okay? So you can’t cry. We got to work.” 

Sam just stared at him with big teary and trusting eyes. Dean didn’t even know what he was really saying at the time; what he was getting them into.

Two 

He didn’t make it a habit to say the words out loud often. He said them more to himself, as a mantra to keep himself on track. But sometimes they would slip out, when he really needed to orient himself: when he really needed to kick his own ass into gear and push down the emotions.

The second time he remembers saying it was when he was 25. He was driving to a case with Danny, the son of one of John’s hunting friends. John was out of commission from a nasty encounter with a wendigo, so they were tag-teaming the ghoul hunt. 

Dean felt his phone buzz, wedged between the driver’s seat and his leg. He pulled it up, glancing at it, just in case it was important. His stomach immediately sank when he saw Sam’s number.

Got to Stanford okay, in case you were wondering. Too hot here. Miss you and Dad. 

The muscles in Dean’s jaw jumped as he clenched it tighter.

“Who’s that?” Danny asked, cocking his shotgun. “Somethin’ about the case?”

“No,” Dean said. He pulled into the driveway of the house where the hauntings were taking place. Eased the Impala into park. “Focus up,” he commanded, cocking his own gun aggressively. “We got work to do.” 

Three 

The seal to the gates of hell are open. Ruby tricked them, and Sam triggered the apocalypse. 

Dean doesn’t know what to say. 

History is repeated again, where Dean is sitting helplessly on one hotel bed, Sam crying on the other. He’s bent at the waist, shoulders hunched, tears silently streaming. 

Dean knows that he’ll blame himself forever. He knows that this might break him. 

He knows he needs to say something.

Getting up unsteadily, he walks over to the bed and sits down on the other side of his brother. The bed creaks from his weight. “C’mon, Sam,” he says into the silence. “We didn’t know, okay? We couldn’t have seen it coming.”

Sam remains silent, glaring at the ground.

A lead in his gut, Dean reaches out a hand, and places it on Sam’s shoulder. “We gotta keep going, okay? We just… we gotta keep fighting. We can’t just sit down and take it.” 

“What’s the point, Dean?” Sam asks. He shrugs off Dean’s shoulder and twists around to glare at him. “Why even try, if I keep fucking everything up? Huh?”

“Because people need us, Sam,” Dean snaps. “We need to finish what we started. We gotta make sure the world is safe, okay? There’s no time to sit around and feel sorry for our damn selves.”

Sam stares at his hands, stonily silent.

Dean stands. Holds out a hand to his younger brother. “C’mon. We got work to do.” 

Sam glares at Dean’s hand for a moment before sighing resignedly. He takes it, and stands.

Four 

When Dean met Cas, a lot changed.

His view on angels not so much: he still thinks they’re a bunch of dicks. But the way that things aren’t always so black and white. That people—angels—can change. That Dean can maybe be… loved. Saved. Worthy of it. 

At least Cas seems to think he’s worth it, anyway. 

He tucks all these feelings into his back pocket; doesn’t want them to see the light of day. Because if they did… well. Then he would have more than his brother to be worried about. And in his line of work, any attachments are frankly a terrible decision.

Except, it’s Cas, and Dean can’t keep his eyes off him. 

And he stares at Cas a lot. He knows he does; it’s almost like there’s a magnet that pulls his eyes to Cas’s face and stays there. Sam notices it; Cas notices it; everyone notices it. Dean just… can’t seem to help it.

Maybe it’s that otherworldly look that he always has on his face. Maybe it’s the perpetual five o’clock shadow that paints his sharp jaw. Maybe it’s because Cas is usually staring right back at him, all up in Dean’s personal space no matter how much Dean complains about it (even though he really doesn’t mind. Not at all. He’d love to have Cas even closer, actually). 

Maybe it’s just because Dean has a damn crush on an angel and he doesn’t know what to do about it. 

“So, you’re sweet on my brother, huh?” Gabriel asks Dean with a leering grin.

Dean snaps his eyes back into the room instead of watching Cas’s back leave the room. “What the fuck? No.” 

Across the room, Sam puts a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Dean wants to punch him so that he’ll finally respect his damn elders.

“Liar,” Gabriel says. 

“C’mon, that weirdo? In a trenchcoat? What are you smoking?”

“He has a… jeno se qua,” Gabriel says with a wave of his hand in the air. “A certain sexiness, if you will.” 

“I’m not sweet on him.” Dean can feel the blood rising in his cheeks, and he hates it. 

“Sure, Dean-o.” Gabriel winks. “Sure.” 

Cas walks back into the roomthen , looking adorably confused, and of course Dean’s blush increases. He tries to look casual as he leans against the wall with a glare, avoiding Cas’s eyes. 

Sam sputters as he tries not to laugh at Gabriel batting his eyelashes in Cas’s direction. 

“Okay, knock it off, you idiots,” Dean snaps. “We got work to do.” 

Cas tilts his head in that adorable way, asking, “What do you want me to knock off, Dean?”

“Your pants,” says Gabriel casually. 

Sam loses it then, bursting into laughter. 

Five 

The apocalypse is done. By some miracle, they all lived through it—Cas, Bobby, and even Sam, who managed to push Lucifer out before throwing him into the pit. 

There’s no imminent danger, no immediate threat—which is probably why Sam decides to bring it up.

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?” Sam asks. They’re sitting at Bobby’s table, each nursing a beer. Sam is still exhausted from his encounter with Lucifer, so he’s not getting out to hunt much these days; they normally spend their nights like this, just soaking in the quiet before the next inevitable storm.

Dean looks at his brother incredulously. “What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Sam says. “I’m not an idiot, Dean. I see the way you look at him.” 

Dean grumbles, sipping at his beer. 

“Dean.” Sam sets his beer down. “The world is quiet. For once. The apocalypse is avoided, Michael and Lucifer are in the cage, just—there will be crap that comes up later. It can’t be avoided. But at least now, in this quiet moment, you can figure things out. With him.”

“Just leave it alone, Sam,” Dean sighs. He doesn’t even have the energy to argue with him anymore. Snatching his beer off the table, he says, “Think I’m gonna finish this outside.” 

He ignores Sam’s worried eyes that follow him out of the house. 

Leaning against the porch railing, he sips at his beer, glaring out into the salvage yard. Something familiar catches his eye: a figure wrapped in a trench coat, head tilted back and staring up at the stars. 

Dean takes a steadying pull of beer before stomping down the porch steps. He stands next to Cas, the neck of his beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. Cas gives him a nod of acknowledgement before looking back up at the twinkling stars above them. 

Clearing his throat, Dean says gruffly, “So, you thinkin’ of going back there?”

“Back there?” Cas asks.

“To, you know.” Dean waves his beer at the sky. “To Heaven.” 

“Heaven is not in the sky, Dean,” Cas chides.

“Okay, whatever. Just answer the damn question: are you going back?”

Cas lifts one shoulder in barely a shrug. He looks at Dean then, blue eyes sparkling in the night. “I might not go back—if I have a reason to stay.” 

“Well, you might have one,” Dean says. “There’s plenty more shit to take care of down here. Rumor has it Raphael is pissed about you rebelling against the apocalypse, so he’ll probably stir some shit up that you have to—”

“Dean.” Cas turns to him, suddenly very serious. “Do I have a reason to stay?”

Dean can feel his breath catch in his throat. He realizes that he could lie. Could laugh it off with a joke or a snarky comment, like he usually does. But he knows it’s now or never. Cas could leave. He’d do anything to stop that. 

“Dean,” Cas says again. There’s a filter of emotion that comes through to his eyes—it looks like hope. That makes Dean crack. 

“Maybe you do have a reason,” Dean says. “Maybe we want you to, I don’t know—stay.” He looks at the ground. “Maybe I want you to stay.” 

Cas takes Dean’s hand. Dean’s heart rate increases as Cas rubs his thumb against Dean’s calloused knuckles. “I want to stay, too.” 

“Good, that’s, uh.” Dean smiles wide. Steps closer to Cas so that their chests are nearly touching. “That’s good, Cas.” 

+1

Dean asks Cas to marry him six months later on the hood of the Impala, burgers and beers between them. 

He doesn’t see the point in waiting when he just…. knows. Cas seems to know too, since Dean can barely get out the question before Cas is tackling him to the hood and kissing him senseless, whispering Yes between each breath. 

Sam cries when they tell him. Of course. Bobby pretends not to get emotional, but Dean sees him wiping at his face a minute later. The angels are, of course, pissed—but Cas couldn’t care less. 

Apparently Cas had been planning to ask Dean from the beginning—he and Charlie had even been making a wedding scrapbook with Charlie in the past few months.

Cas pulls out the scrapbook to show Dean the next morning, both in their pajamas and sitting at Bobby’s kitchen table. His cheeks are stained from embarrassment, unsure how Dean will take it.

But Dean finds it the least embarrassing thing in the world—he just flips through the pages and pages of wedding decorations, tuxes, and rings, and gets increasingly choked up. He almost loses it when he sees the Enochian words for “Forever” inscribed on a ring that Charlie made in photoshop as a mock-up. 

Dean puts down his coffee, and kisses his fiance soundly. When he pulls back, Cas is smiling, bright as the rising sun. 

Shutting the book, Dean stands, and grabs Cas’s hand with a wink. “Well, Cas. Looks like we got work to do.”

#<33 #thank you so much for commissioning me!! #this was so much fun to write #destiel #destiel fic #commission #tatiana requested i share this with you all <3

[mostfacinorous]

GO Whumptober Day 31: Today’s Special- Torture [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27][28][29][30]

“You know,” Crowley heard, as he slowly woke. “Every hunter worth their salt has a tracking device they keep on their person. And his led me straight to you. So tell me the truth: where is Mathias?” 

Crowley opened his eyes to find himself in a mostly dark room, tied to a chair, plastic spread out on the floor around him, and floodlights hitting him right in the eyes. 

There was a woman standing in front of him, arms crossed and looking both unimpressed and threatening. 

“I mean-- I ate him.” Crowley answered, feeling a mite groggy, like he may have been drugged. The pounding in his skull backed up that theory. 

“Oh, a jokester. Funny. Mathias is my brother, so I hope for your sake he’s around here somewhere.” 

Crowley groaned.

“Mathias sent a child after me by lying to her about the source of her ma’s illness, and then he attacked when I turned up to help them, so I turned into a snake and ate him.” Crowley told her. “I’m not joking, and I’m awful sorry for your loss, though he was a bit of a prick.” 

The woman looked less than pleased with that answer, and paced back and forth a bit. 

“You wanna talk me through what you’re thinking, or would you rather wear a hole in that tarp?” He finally asked. 

“Well, your eyes say demon, so that makes your story a little more plausible. I don’t want to believe my brother’s dead, because if I come home without him, my father will be furious.” 

Crowley listened, nodding. 

“So I suppose,” she continued, “My options are to take you back to my father and let you tell him your story, and hope I get let off the hook while he kills you slowly, a little bit at a time, or, I do it myself, here and now, save myself the trouble of the roadtrip with you, and know I’ll probably kill you off faster than he would, so it’s really sort of a favor, on account of how you’re right, and my brother was a prick.” 

“Sounds like either way is pretty shit, as far as options go on my end.” Crowley quipped, and she huffed a little laugh. 

“Shame about you eating him,” she responded. “I feel like we really coulda grown to like one another.” 

---

Crowley swam in and out of consciousness for the next several hours, as this incredibly disturbed human woman made a game of removing bits of him and putting them in labelled mason jars. 

It really was like some kind of parody of a decor show, the way she tied little ribbons around each one, and labelled them with what they were and the time when she removed them from him. 

He had no idea where they were or how they’d got there, but she’d done a damn good job of making sure she wouldn’t be interrupted. 

He’d yelled and cried and screamed as loud as he could, but it seemed like there were no neighbors around to hear, or care, or help. 

And he had no idea where Aziraphale was. He wished he could call to him, though, reach him, ask for some kind of way out of here. 

“So it occurs to me,” Amber said, for that was her name, and Crowley hated that she’d bothered telling him about her, because he sympathized now, a little. 

“I haven’t had much opportunity to learn about demons, and how they react to things. For example:” She held up a bottle of salt. “I can make a circle with this, and you can’t leave it, yeah? But what happens if I just…”

She upended the bottle over his chest, slashed open and bleeding sluggishly as it was. 

He screamed again as the salt began to dissolve in his blood and sting at the open skin. 

She watched, dispassionately, and when he voice broke and his screams turned to little whimpers, she hummed to herself. 

“I’d say that was about on par with a human, actually.” She noted. “Which is a real pity, I expected more… fireworks, or the like.” 

Crowley twisted his wrist back and forth, trying again to work his hand free, but she laughed. 

His fingers were broken; she’d done that first thing, so even if he could get free, the act of summoning a miracle would be even more painful. 

“How about the old folklore fixes, eh? Silver? Iron? Garlic?” 

“Werewolves, fairies, and vampires. Not me.” He answered her, voice rough from screaming and ruining his attempt at sounding cool. 

“And how about holy water? Does that do anything?” 

He croaked out a little laugh.

“Tingles a bit. Demons use it as hot sauce.” 

He had loosened the duck tape around his wrist enough to be able to move his hand a bit, and he smashed it against the chair, forcing his broken bones back into some semblance of being hand shaped.

“Hm. Hot sauce, you say?” She asked, and he didn’t like that at all. He wiggled his fingers, braced himself, and summoned a miracle.

“Maybe I should go get you some, then. After all, you are being punished for having eaten my brother-- maybe keeping your mouth on a constant holy water drip will make the punishment fit the crime a little better.�� 

Crowley sucked in air, in too much pain to try and figure out how to talk his way out of that one. 

“Did I hear,” A new voice said in the darkness, and Crowley felt his eyes filling with tears of relief, “That you are in the market for some holy water?” 

Aziraphale stepped forward, looking prim and proper as ever, and he’d even pulled out his halo and wings for the occasion. 

Amber looked up at him in awe.

“You’re an angel aren’t you?” She asked, and Aziraphale smiled. 

“I am. And it seems you’ve captured my own personal adversary.” He flicked his eyes towards Crowley, and Crowley whined at the cold expression in them. 

Oh, Aziraphale was pissed. And worse, he was righteous. 

“Oh, did you want to get in on this? It turns out he ate my brother, so…” 

“Were you aware,” Aziraphale asked, voice still light and sweet and casual, “That your brother had made a deal with devils? That your brother kidnapped me, and sold me to hell?” 

Amber took a step back as Aziraphale turned to look at her again. 

“What? No, I mean, Mathias was an arse, but…” 

“Your brother.” Aziraphale said, advancing on her, “Was a monster. And so are you.” 

Crowley could not actually see what happened, but he did see that Aziraphale did not so much as lift a finger. 

Amber screamed and fell to her knees, her eyes bleeding, her mouth wide open and her tongue suddenly missing. 

“Crowley, darling, I think you had better close your eyes.” Aziraphale warned him, and, when he’d obeyed, he could see the bright holy light that suddenly shone throughout the room even through his closed eyelids. It stabbed into him and set his head off again, and he whimpered. 

Just as fast as it began, it ended, and then Aziraphale was there. 

“Alright, here we are, I am so sorry. Come on, let’s get you out of here, get you healed up.” 

“What-- what did you do with her?” Crowley asked. “She was just-- her and Mathias both, their dad…” 

“Oh, I know.” Aziraphale told him. “I sent her body back to her father, covered in writing that tells the entire story of their awful line. No further children will be born to them. The old man will see his daughter, read my letter, and then never see again. And whatever monster he is running from will finally be able to catch up.”

Aziraphale’s voice echoed with a sort of certainty, a knowledge beyond what they knew, and Crowley realized he was tapping into the weapons available to angels in the most extreme of circumstances. The sorts of weapons he’d have been given back in the beginning, back when it was a very real war, and he’d been set out to kill demons like Crowley. 

Instead, now, he was using those powers in defense of a demon. 

“I don’t think heaven’s gonna like this too much.” Crowley told him, head lolling as they moved, and suddenly Crowley realized he was being carried. 

“I don’t give two fucks what heaven does and doesn’t like!” Aziraphale said hotly, but sounding more like himself. “I won’t let anyone take you from me again!” 

Crowley smiled at that, even though, as they crossed out of the darkness and into the sunlight, his headache flared up, and all the moving was jostling the salt in his chest wounds. 

He was woozy and in and out of it, and Aziraphale got him laid out on the grass by a roadside, the day crisp and bright and lovely, and Crowley felt cold and vague. 

“That crazy bint killed me, didn’t she?” He asked, and Aziraphale’s eyes flashed, brighter even than the noonday sun. 

“Not if I’ve anything to say about it.” He answered. “I am so very sorry,” He added, softer and sweet. 

Crowley sighed, trying not to tense even though he knew what was coming next. 

Or, he thought he knew. Aziraphale had done some laying of hands on him before, once or twice, and it was terrible for them both each time. They both suffered when they went about helping one another that intimately. So he tried to prepare for more pain. 

What he felt instead, though, was Aziraphale’s hand on the side of his face, and then his lips on his, and he was kissing him back to life. 

And somehow, it didn’t hurt. 

It was like being dunked suddenly into a cold pool, a shock to the system, unpleasant, but bracing. He felt alert again, like he’d just woken, and he felt the pain in his chest going away, the throbbing in his fingers ceasing as everything straightened out and reknitted itself, pieces regrowing and reattaching and healing. 

And Aziraphale was kissing him. 

When he was done, Crowley chased after his retreating lips, panting and confused. 

“That didn’t-- it didn’t hurt me at all. Did it-- are you alright?” He demanded, sitting up and reaching for Aziraphale to catch him in case he fainted from the efforts.

But Aziraphale just smiled. 

“When God said she wanted us to be closer,” He said, sounding, finally like himself, “I suspect this is more what she had in mind.” 

“You mean I could have been kissing you since winter?” 

Aziraphale laughed and helped Crowley to his feet. 

“If we weren’t so scared, I would say we could have been kissing for much longer than that. But, yes. I don’t think we’ll have any problems with healing one another any longer.” 

Crowley felt tears coming to his eyes again, and he grabbed hold of Aziraphale and held onto him tightly. 

“Let’s go find somewhere that’s quiet.” He requested. “Somewhere out of the city. You bring your books, I’ll bring my plants… and with any luck neither of us will have to heal the other ever again.” 

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale said on a sigh, “That sounds delightful. How do you feel about the south downs?”

“If you’re there?” Crowley told him, as he reached to pull him into another kiss. “Better than heaven could ever be.”

#GO Whumptober2020 #Good omens fic #aziraphale #crowley #bamf!aziraphale #happy halloween! #whumptober #the end #that writing thing I do

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Christmas without Miracles

I’ve fallen a bit behind on my contributions to @drawlight’s Advent Calendar, but behold!

One fic using two prompts so I feel less guilty!

This one takes place in the early 1800s. No specific location - just isolated, outside of England, and cold.

This is supposed to be a few years before the 1862 argument, but if you want to headcanon a universe where this happens instead of the 1862 argument, that’s cool, too.

06 - Sleigh Bells/07 - Silent Night (2,630)

Snow had started to fall.

Just lightly, each white flake twisting down from a sky dark with clouds.

All the usual nighttime noises – insects, animals rustling in the undergrowth, even the wind in the trees – were silenced. Just the gentle hush of snow accumulating, molecule by molecule.

Aziraphale knew he should be inside. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, the cabin bright and warm and empty. Two of the three would be an improvement on what he had out here, standing on the porch, looking across the rolling, tree-dotted hills.

Cold. Empty. Silent.

He hated the silence most of all.

--

Crowley didn’t hate snow, so long as he didn’t have to travel in it.

Walk, and your boots filled up with snow.

Ski, and you looked ridiculous anywhere outside the Alps. And in them, too.

Riding a horse was out – if he went the rest of eternity without ever sitting on one of those again, he’d be happy.

But anything with wheels was also out – carriages and wagons and carts could barely handle clean city streets.

Trains were good, if the tracks were cleared, but so far Hell had not been interested in his proposal to build a train line that stopped at every human residence in the world. Which was fine, that had only been semi-serious, anyway.

The only remaining option was to use some form of sled.

He glared at the…sled? Sleigh? Whichever. It was small, just enough room for one person, or a small pile of supplies, to sit in it the seat, but whoever drove it had to stand behind on the runners. It was pulled by some kind of long-maned pony or very small horse that looked like it had its own ideas about who was in charge.

The bridle and reins were covered in bells.

“Do you have one without the bells?” he asked, not even really hoping.

“Nope,” the man said with the cheerful joy of one who knows he has the transportation market cornered for the next few months. “Those bells let people know you’re coming even when they can’t see you. And anyway, they keep off the evil spirits.”

“So I’ve heard.” Crowley reached over and flicked a finger at one of the large silvery bells.

Chk-chk-chk

The whole line jingled, sending shivers up and down his arms, settling at the back of his neck.

He hated that noise most of all.

--

Too many frivolous miracles.

First, a letter full of such threatening language that only a trek through a revolution-torn city to find his favorite pastries – as well as a not-quite-chance encounter with a certain demon – had been able to calm him down again.

Then, a commendation. Congratulations on performing your job perfectly as always.

And now, a “meditative retreat” – five months alone to think about what he should and shouldn’t be using his powers to achieve. No miracles allowed.

A month and a half in, he’d decided – he hadn’t the faintest idea.

Take the most simple of duties: sometimes, he was assigned to keep a person safe.

Did that mean use a miracle to stop them from being injured? Or to heal them afterwards? Or was he supposed to guide them, miracle-free, as if he were another human? Do what seems best, he’d be told, but what seemed best to him never seemed best to anyone else.

Or protecting himself – his corporation, rather, since Aziraphale’s true self was rarely in danger. Could he use a miracle to avoid a dangerous situation? Heal himself from an injury? Was his body the same as a human body, or less valuable? Was all this a waste of Heaven’s resources when he could simply get a new body? How many miracles were equal to one body, anyway?

Questions he shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t have to ask. He should just know. Angels received their orders, obeyed them, and chose the best course of action, because that’s what angels did.

Angels weren’t supposed to get confused.

But Aziraphale did. All the time. What did that make him?

--

Crowley preferred to do everything by miracle.

Need new clothes? Manifest them.

Need money? There it is.

Food? Never bothered to learn to cook. When he was hungry, he pulled fully prepared meals out of the nearest cupboard.

Hell rarely tracked exactly what he did, as long as he could demonstrate evil had been accomplished.

But they did track where he was, using miracles. It didn’t do to be more than a few miles from where you were supposed to be.

This wasn’t anywhere near Venice, which was a pity, because he’d rather like to be in Venice right now.

He stared around the bakery. “I don’t know. Just get me several things that are hot and edible.” He had a list, but it wasn’t helping. “Do you have a…stuffing? Or butter?”

“You can get butter from the general store,” the baker’s wife offered, putting together his packages.

“No. The shop person said they didn’t have any dairy.”

“He just meant milk and cream. They’ll have butter, and cheese if you want it.”

Crowley dragged the heel of his hand across his forehead. He’d lived in agricultural societies. He knew perfectly well that butter and cheese were both dairy. “Fine. I’ll go back. How about the stuffing?”

“You’ll want to make your own.”

“Really don’t.”

“I can give you a family recipe!” She started writing in pencil on the brown wrapping of one of the packages. “You’ll need ground beef, sausage…”

A few minutes later, Crowley opened the door to the bitter cold wind outside, making all the bells in the wreath jangle up and down his already-raw nerves.

Chk-chk-chk

He paused, cracked his neck, and kept walking.

--

Aziraphale finally had to return to the cabin, as the snow had piled up higher than his feet.

Only a single room – wood stove, table and benches, rug; there was a bed even though he didn’t sleep, a few pots and pans even though there was no food. 

No chair. No books. Well, one book.

Gabriel had left him a journal, and pen and ink. Encouraged him to write down his thoughts.

Aziraphale thought best when he was reading, talking, engaging with someone or something. For the first few weeks, he’d talked to himself a lot, arguing with the empty room, having mock conversations, even reciting poetry he had memorized.

But slowly the oppressive quiet had settled across his soul. And he found himself picking up the pen to write –

What? What could he write about? His doubts? His confusion? What would he even say?

When it got to be too much, he tried drawing, sketching out what he could see. That helped a little, but once he’d scribbled down images of the room, the hills outside, the one tree he liked to walk to…well, he was back to the same dilemma, what to write?

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to list a few questions. Just so he could think about the answers.

--

Chk-chk-chk

The door of the last shop slammed behind Crowley, bells clattering. Shaking his head to clear it, he checked his list one more time. It looked like he had everything, though the ink was already smudging where snowflakes fell on it.

He settled the packages into the sled, tucking a blanket all around them, and pulled up the collar of his coat against the biting wind.

“Better leave room for yourself,” said the kid.

Crowley looked him up and down. Seventeen or so, son of the man who had rented him the sled and horse. He was supposed to drive it out and return with it.

“Nope. I’m driving, you’re staying.”

“That’s not how this works. We only have a few, and we need to be able to get supplies out in an emergency –”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Crowley handed over a pile of money. “This should cover the sled and the horse, in case I don’t come back. Plus a bit. Give it to your dad.” He considered the kid another moment. “You have, I don’t know, a girl you like? Boy? Anything?” The kid tried to give him a stubborn, blank look, but some of that pink wasn’t just from the cold. “Whatever, not my business.” Crowley handed over the rest of his money, saving only what he would need to get back to London. “Give him, her, or them something nice. Cheers.”

While the kid was still staring at the pile of money, Crowley climbed onto the runners of the sled and took the reins in both hands.

Chk-chk-chk

He felt that one in his stomach.

With another jingling of sleigh bells, he shook the reins –

And nothing happened.

“Go.”

Nothing.

“Move, horse!”

Now it was just embarrassing.

The kid leaned against the sled. “Are you sure? I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I don’t!” He jerked the reins back, trying to ignore the way the sound of bells hammered into his spine. “But no one can know where I’m going.”

With a shrug, the kid shoved the money into his pocket. “Pull on one side, gently, to turn. Not too sudden, it’ll tip over. Whoa to slow down, walk to go, and remember, you’re in charge.” He winked, and walked away with a swagger that wasn’t quite as good as the demon’s, but better suited to over six inches of snowfall.

Clutching the reins again, Crowley called: “Walk.  WALK!” He shook them hard. “COME ON YOU BLESSED HORSE, WALK!”

Nothing moved.

--

Once Aziraphale had started writing, it was hard to stop.

Page after page. Whatever entered his mind.

It was nice just seeing the ink flow.

Hearing the scratch of the pen fill the silence.

--

Crowley got off the back of the sled and walked up to the horse, grabbing it by the bridle. “Listen, here, you, I am in charge!”

The horse snorted and stomped directly onto his foot.

“Nghaa that was not – ugh!”

The horse shook its head, jingling the bells again and again until Crowley was ready to tear his own ears off, until Crowley let go and stepped back.

The horse lashed its tail.

“Look, fine.” Crowley grumbled trying to stand where the horse could see him clearly, despite the snow that was now falling thick. “You’re in charge if that’s what you want. But I need to get somewhere. I should have been there hours ago. Days ago. You are my only way of getting there. I have nothing to bribe you with. I promise, you get fed either way, you get brushed either way, and you will absolutely get enough apples and sugar to make you sick because I’m not doing anything else with those.”

He reached out a hand to touch the horse. He had lived in agricultural societies, but he was much more comfortable around the crops and plants than the animals. Still, rather to his surprise, the horse let him stroke its nose. “Please. This is more important than you can imagine. Just get me there.”

He stepped back onto the runners, picked up the reins. “Walk.”

The horse didn’t walk. It moved much quicker than that.

--

Aziraphale lay down his pen, wiggling his fingers after all that writing. There were a lot of words on the page. Perhaps he should read over them.

He found himself walking back to the door, stepping into the silent night outside again.

The snow was falling so fast it was almost a physical thing, blocking his view even where the light from the door should have been enough to see the edge of the woods. It spilled across the porch, piled at the corners of the cottage.

And still, everything was so quiet. Even the wind, which had picked up, seemed to carry only the flakes and not any sound –

Were those sleigh bells?

A moment later a horse came into view – one of the small, sturdy northern breeds – pushing on through the unbroken snow, pressing through the storm with determined strides, pulling behind it a small sled and clinging to the back of that –

“Crowley?”

“Whoa,” called the dark figure. “Whoa – I said whoa! We’re here!”

With a final jingle of bells, the horse stopped in front of the porch, and Crowley fell backwards, off the sled runners and into the snow.

“Crowley! What the Hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Angel.”

“You’re supposed to be in Italy!”

“Yeah, I am. No, don’t worry, I can pick myself up.” He started to rise, then stumbled again.

Aziraphale rushed forward. “I’m – I didn’t realize – what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Bloody sleigh bells. Chase off evil spirits.” He clasped Aziraphale’s hand, pulling himself up. “I’ll be fine, just need to get a drink and warm up.”

“Of course, but – I don’t have any food or drink.”

With a very tired grin, Crowley tossed aside the blanket in the sled. “Happy Christmas, Angel.”

--

Crowley had needed to compromise on a few things.

He had the goose, and what he was assured were all the ingredients needed for stuffing and gravy.

Potatoes, brussels sprouts, and parsnips had been easy to find; and something he was almost certain was redcurrant sauce.

There had been no plum pudding this far from England, or mince pies, or fruitcake – though he wasn’t certain fruitcake was something you bought, it was possible all fruitcakes already existed and were simply eternally exchanged. He had managed to get a variety of sweet pastries.

Lots of wine.

And two bundles of books – the ones he had picked out at stops on the way, and the ones he had taken from the shop. Aziraphale shouldn’t have been surprised Crowley knew his favorites, but the demon was pleased at his smile either way.

There were two things to take care of first.

Crowley spied the notebook as soon as he stepped in. He only glanced at it long enough to see that Aziraphale had written a lot.

Then he picked it up and dropped it into the flames of the stove.

“Crowley! That was a private journal!”

“No it wasn’t.” He pulled off his glasses and glared at Aziraphale. “What did you think, they were going to let you keep that? Ask you to tell them the important parts? They left you here alone to write your own confession.”

Aziraphale clenched his teeth, didn’t say anything.

“I don’t like it.” Crowley grumbled. “They’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know what’s changed.”

The other issue was the horse.

“No, I can’t have a horse in the cabin!”

“You can’t leave it outside, Angel, it’s a storm!”

“I thought you didn’t even like horses.”

“I don’t! But this one got me here and…” Crowley shrugged. “And it’s as much of a bloody-minded stubborn bastard as you are, so you’ll probably get along.”

Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley could see him start to give in. “How am I supposed to hide the fact that there’s been a horse in here when Gabriel gets back? We can’t miracle it clean.”

“Eh, just tell him some traveler lost in the storm stayed here a while. It’ll be true enough.”

--

And so, with the horse in the corner working through its feed bag and having the night of its life, Crowley and Aziraphale set about figuring out how to make a Christmas dinner.

It wouldn’t be perfect.

Neither of them had ever cooked without miracles before. There was immediately an argument over how one peeled a potato, and what exactly stuffing was for, really.

It wouldn’t be perfect.

But the jangle of the bells had ended, the silence had been driven from the cabin, and once again they were together.

And that, in a way, was perfect.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #31 days of ineffables #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #christmas #look this one actually is a christmas story #my writing #incidentally there is only one bed #;) #maybe don't read too much into that though #aziraphale doesn't sleep #and that horse has a judgy stare

[spohkh]

Super important question! If you had to make a mixtape of the top 13 Taylor tracks about Dean and Cas, what songs would you choose?

OKAY THIS WAS SIMULTANEOUSLY SO HARD AND SO EASY TO DO. i rly wanted to get smth from every album but all except 3 are from rep to evermore fjsjfjsjfkfds oops :)c 

anyhoo, in no particular order, my 13 taylor destiel tracks!

1. invisible string  

time, mystical time, cuttin me open then healing me fine. were there clues i didn’t see? and isn’t just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? // hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

2. hoax  

my only one, my smoking gun, my eclipsed sun, this has broken me down. my twisted knife, my sleepless night, my winless fight, this has frozen my ground. // my only one, my kingdom come undone, my broken drum, you have beaten my heart. don’t want no other shade of blue but you. no other sadness in the world would do. // your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in.

3. false god

we were crazy to think that this could work. remember how i said i’d die for you? we were stupid to jump in the ocean separating us. remember how i’d fly to you? // they warned us about times like this. they say the road gets hard and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith. // but we might just get away with it. religion’s in your lips, even if it’s a false god. we might just get away with it. the altar is my hips, even if it’s a false god. we’d still worship this love. // i know heaven’s a thing, i go there when you touch me, honey. hell is when i fight with you. but we can patch it up good, make confessions and we’re begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you.

4. peace

and you know that i’d swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches, give you my wild, give you a child, give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. family that i chose now that i see your brother as my brother. // but i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade, ocean wave blues come. all these people think love’s for show but i would die for you in secret.

5. dancing with our hands tied

i loved you in secret, first sight, yeah, we love without reason. my love had been frozen deep blue, but you painted me golden. // i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us. i’m a mess, but i’m the mess that you wanted. ‘cause it’s gravity keeping you with me. // i’d kiss you as the lights went out, swayin as the room burned down. i’d hold you as the water rushes in.

6. stay stay stay

you took the time to memorize me, my fears, my hopes, my dreams. i just like hangin out with you all the time. all those times that you didn't leave, it's been occurring to me i'd like to hang out with you for my whole life. stay, and i'll be lovin you for quite some time. no one else is gonna love me when i get mad, mad, mad, so i think that it's best if we both stay.

7. mine

do you remember we were sittin there, by the water? you put your arm around me for the first time. you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter. you are the best thing that's ever been mine. flash forward, and we're takin on the world together, and there's a drawer of my things at your place. you learn my secrets and figure out why i'm guarded. you say we'll never make my parents' mistakes. // do you remember all the city lights on the water? you saw me start to believe for the first time.

8. willow

i'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night. rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife. and if it was an open-shut case, i never would've known from that look on your face. lost in your current like a priceless wine. the more that you say, the less i know. wherever you stray, i follow. i'm beggin for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man. // wait for the signal and i'll meet you after dark. show me the places where the others gave you scars.

9. cowboy like me

eyes full of stars, hustlin for the good life, never thought i'd meet you here. it could be love, we could be the way forward, and i know i'll pay for it. // and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. and the old men that i've swindled really did believe i was the one, and the ladies lunching have their stories about when you passed through town, but that was all before i locked it down. // i've had some tricks up my sleeve. takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me. and i'm never gonna love again.

10. state of grace

and i never saw you coming, and i'll never be the same. // you come around and the armor falls, pierce the room like a cannon ball. now all we know is don't let go. // so you were never a saint, and i've loved in shades of wrong. we learn to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts. but this love is brave and wild. // this is a state of grace, this is the worthwhile fight. // these are the hands of fate, you're my Achilles heel. this is the golden age of something good and right and real.

11. don’t blame me

don't blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn't you ain't doin it right. lord, save me, my drug is my baby i'll be usin for the rest of my life // somethin happened for the first time in the darkest little paradise... shakin, pacin, i just need you. // for you, i would cross the line, i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say, "she's gone too far this time." // my name is whatever you decide, and i'm just gonna call you mine. i'm insane, but i'm your baby. echoes of your name inside my mind, halo hidin my obsession. // and baby, for you, i would fall from grace just to touch your face. if you walk away, i'd beg you on my knees to stay.

12. cardigan

i knew you, dancin in your levi's drunk under a streetlight. // i knew you, your heartbeat on the high line, once in twenty lifetimes. // to kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed. you drew stars around my scars // i knew you, steppin on the last train, marked me like a bloodstain. i knew you, tried to change the endin, peter losin wendy. i knew you, leavin like a father, runnin like water. // i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss, knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs ... knew i'd curse you for the longest time, chasin shadows in the grocery line, knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standin in my front porch light, and i knew you'd come back to me. you'd come back to me. you'd come back to me. you'd come back.

13. lover (Miracle on Cornelia Street AU theme song!!!)

there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. have i known you for 20 seconds or 20 years? // can i go where you go? can we always be this close? forever and ever. take me out, and take me home. you're my, my, my, my lover. // i'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. i've loved you for three summers now, honey, but i want 'em all. // my heart's been borrowed and yours has ben blue. all's well that ends will to end up with you. swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover. and you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me, and at every table, i'll save you a seat, lover.

#thank u sarah!!! what is your list???? #deancastiel #some of these could def be subbed out but i do have a few definites #like hoax and dont blame me and stay stay stay #adanceinasnowglobe #ask

[gii-heylittleangel]

slides in silently and awkwardly, looking around Hi! I know, I know, this should've been posted twenty days ago but I had no time nor mind to do it. And, as we'll only have another ep next month, I didn't want to rush a coda out and post something horrible for you, peeps. I hope you can forgive me makes puppy eyes

Thank you @babybluecas for betaing this for me! Love you <3

Alright, go ahead and enjoy yourselves!

Read it on AO3

The war room was silent and Dean could only stare at his half-empty beer bottle. He didn't have any courage to raise his eyes and look at the others; mostly out of fear of what he would find. Dean wasn't even able to look at Jack without a small feeling of guilt bubbling up. He didn't know how Jack felt and his expression didn't let Dean figure out anything; Jack had a permanent deadpan expression on his face and his eyes were hard.

Sam actually spoke after a few minutes but Dean only half-listened to it; Sam asked something about how Jack had ended up in the Empty and what Billie had said exactly to Jack. Jack's description of the Empty didn’t seem so bad in Dean's eyes: nothing but an endless sleep that you didn't even know was happening. It sure was better than Hell and maybe a little better than Heaven because there weren't any dick angels to worry about.

When he did raise his eyes, Dean met a weird expression on Cas's face; Cas seemed worried, hands grasping anxiously at his beer, ripping the label, and his guilty eyes stared down at his hands. Dean frowned until he remembered Cas had spent a while in the Empty as well—Cas had never talked about what it was like but Dean knew it had to have been awful for him; Cas could barely do anything if there weren’t any lights on for a while after he got back. Listening to Jack talk about it and thinking how long Jack had spent there, probably wasn't something Cas enjoyed either.

The room fell silent again. Sam with his tablet as he looked for something, bottle untouched and forgotten by his side. Jack seemed interested enough in his own beer, not caring much about the silence; he never really did so it wasn’t anything new. Dean, on the other hand, couldn’t stand it, so he downed the last gulp of his beer before placing the bottle back on the table and standing up.

He squeezed Jack's shoulder softly, giving him a small smile. "Good to have you back, kid."

Jack smiled at him, looking like the kid he once was for a second before turning back to his beer. He seemed quite older in Dean's eyes and there wasn't anything from his old childish look anymore; not even his face had the same boyish look anymore. It hurt Dean to see him like that, even though he also knew how it felt to have to grow up so quickly.

He left the war room without another look, his footsteps echoing throughout the hallway until he got to his room. It was mostly a mess, clean and dirty clothes laying around together, some of those being Cas's, countless empty beer and whiskey bottles, bags from take-outs that.

But Dean just pushed everything off his bed before collapsing on top of it and closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. He wanted nothing more than just sleep for a full week but he was one hundred and twenty percent sure that it would never happen; something would come up, or someone would come knocking, or the whole bunker would catch fire—Dean was lucky like that. Although, to be fair, Dean wasn't sure he would even be able to actually sleep that much; getting more than three hours was almost a miracle already.

There was a knock on the door after some time and Dean groaned; he really didn't want to deal with anyone right now. That didn't stop the person from opening the door and turning the lights on. Dean opened his eyes to see Cas standing at the door, staring worryingly at Dean with one hand on the doorknob.

Dean waved him in, sitting and adjusting himself on the bed so he could give Cas space on it. Cas closed the door softly and walked to sit by Dean's side, kicked his shoes off before stretching his legs in front of him as if he owned the bed—which he kinda did. Their sides touched slightly and Dean couldn't help but think about all the times they were like this, each reading their own book, but always smiling at each other whenever their gaze met.

They stayed quiet for a while, Dean keeping his gaze on the ceiling as he waited for Cas to say something. He knew there was a reason for Cas to be there and that he wanted to talk; Dean could see it in his eyes and in his posture, Cas's mouth opening and closing a few times, but never speaking up.

In the end, Cas seemed to settle on the simplest. "Are you okay, Dean?"

Dean exhaled heavily, picking at his nails. "Same as always. You?"

Cas shrugged. "We have Jack back, so I think I should be okay?"

Raising a brow, Dean turned his head to stare at Cas. "You think?"

"Yes. I'm just… not sure how things are going to go. I'm happy Billie brought Jack back but not knowing what is going to happen was never something I liked."

"Yeah, me neither." 

They stayed in silence for a few seconds more and Dean moved his eyes to stare back at his hands. He could still feel Cas's eyes on him but Dean didn't have it in him to stare back; the tension between them was still there, not as strong as before, but still enough to be a burden.

"What did you and Sam have to do in Alaska?"

Dean chuckled humourlessly. "We looked for some place that could give us our luck back." Cas raised an eyebrow at him, looking worried. "Me and Sam, we were too… normal. Our guess was that Chuck decided to take away our privileges as the protagonists of his story."

Cas nodded thoughtfully. "Any luck?" Cas had a small smile on his lips and Dean couldn’t help but smile back as he rolled his eyes.

"We found Fortuna there and we hustled pool to get our luck back. Sam tried to hustle her for everyone's luck in there but he lost, so we got ours only."

"So, you two are not… normal anymore?"

Dean sighed dramatically with the corner of his lips quirked up. "I don't think so. But, before we left, she shut the whole place down and sent everyone back home. The girl that worked there said to us that Fortuna thought our kind had gone extinct."

Cas frowned with a weird look. "Your kind?"

“Heroes; she said we are heroes and that she thought they had gone extinct." Dean shrugged. “She also told us not to play his game, to make him play ours. Whatever the hell that means.”

After a few moments of silence, Cas seemed to be thinking about something, one hand scratching his stubble, and then he talked again, "Do you think she was right?"

Dean shrugged. "No idea, but it would be good to have a goddess on our side. But I don't know, man, there's Billie's plan. Where would Sam and me even fit in it as heroes? Shouldn't it be Jack?"

Cas shook his head with a sigh. "You still don't see yourself as you should, Dean. Jack's powerful and I do believe he could kill Chuck, but I don't think he'll be the one to actually defeat him."

"Why not?"

"Because everything started with you and Sam. Other versions of you two, sure, but still you. For some reason, all of Chuck's universes seem to circle around you; different choices you made in the same or different situations, or even what would happen to the world without you. I think you and Sam have a much bigger part to play in this story, still. A much bigger part than Jack has."

Dean groaned, head falling back. "Great, 'cause that's just what I want; be part of another story that Chuck can manipulate."

Cas placed a reassuring hand on top of Dean's. "I know you dislike it, Dean, but I think this is the one part Chuck won't be able to manipulate and that’s why you’re going to win."

" Why we’re going to win, Cas. But let's hope you're right." Unconsciously, Dean turned his hand to fit it with Cas's. "What about Jack? How did you find him?"

Cas's thumb ran along Dean's hand softly, Cas's eyes glued at their hands. "An officer called, Jeb Evans, to talk about it. I think Sam had asked him to keep an eye out for Jack some time ago and he got footage that showed Jack breaking into a doctor's office."  Dean's eyes widened and he almost opened his mouth to ask. "The doctor was a Grigori. So I went after him until I managed to track him there."

Dean nodded, letting Cas trace the lines on his palm. "And then he told you about Billie's plan?"  

Cas hummed in agreement, gaze still on their hands. Dean, instead, stared at Cas, at how concentrated he seemed on tracing the exact lines on Dean's palm, his expression somewhat relaxed. It had been quite some time since he and Cas had actually stayed like that, close together and not fighting. Dean had missed it.

After a while, Cas stilled his hand on top of Dean's and broke the silence, "Do you think Billie's plan is going to work?"

Dean shrugged. "Not sure how much I would trust one of her plans. I mean, her least plan was to get me locked in the Ma'lak box and then throw it in the ocean. Not exactly what you would call a nice plan and not sure how well it would've worked."

Cas nodded, letting his hand rest on top of Dean's and raising his eyes to meet Dean's gaze. "I'm not sure it will either. Not that I don't trust Jack but we don't know what could happen to him if he did kill Chuck. Or to the world. After everything Sam said he saw…"

Dean sighed, letting his eyes fall closed and his head hit the wall behind him. "Yeah. I have no idea how much of what Chuck showed him it's true. The whole Mark thing I believe because I know what it can do to someone. But me and Sam turning into monsters and killing our family and friends? Hell no.”

“Yes, that really didn’t sound like something you nor Sam would do. But I still don’t know if the monsters taking over the world would really happen.”

“Yeah, well, no use crying over spilled milk, right? No way we can get another one of those blossoms for another spell.”

Cas agreed, sighing and closing his eyes as well. A comfortable silence fell upon them, their hands still linked together, their sides touching, and, if they weren’t in a fight against God himself, Dean would be more than happy to be like that. At the same time, although it seemed like nothing had changed, Dean knew it had and he could feel it; it was how they still seemed to keep a certain distance between them, an angry and hurt kind of tension around them, and how hard it seemed to just be together. Dean didn’t know how to fix it but he hoped he and Cas were going on the right path; Dean’s prayer had certainly helped and he was sure Cas knew it had been nothing but honest.

It would be slow but Dean was sure they would get past it. Now, the only thing Dean wanted was a resemblance of more normal times, so he linked his hand with Cas’s and snuggled just a little closer to him, their heads resting together and the calm silence around them almost peaceful. Even with the end of the world, God with a capital G against them, and the fear of what could happen, Dean was already happy with having just that moment.

#littleangelwrites #destiel coda #spn coda #spn spoilers #spn 15x11 #spoilers #15x11 spoilers

[isauntervaguelydownwards]

have some meta:

about how aziraphale is just as smart, just not as flashy, as crowley - i read a post about that (link in replies), and about how the only ~rules~ really governing angels and demons are Heaven’s and Hell’s rules, because they’re literally made of the same stock

angels can possess humans, they’re just not supposed to, etc.

a thing i think we the fans doesn’t always have in mind: neither hell nor heaven keeps track of what their agents do. they can’t

yeah, we see in 1793 how aziraphale’s gotten some pushback because he’s been doing too many ~frivolous~ (i think that’s the phrase they use) miracles but. the arrangement? 

crowley performs miracles and aziraphale whatever the opposite is; there should be some complaints about that, from both sides, but as long as the paperwork is filled out and filed correctly they’re happy.

crowley gets a commendation for the spanish inquisition - when he didn’t even know it was happening. hell knew he was somewhere around, saw something horrible going down, and assumed.

where i’m going with this is: as long as they file the paperwork, and the paperwork looks right - even if it’s faked down to every last comma - heaven and hell don’t know shit. crowley and aziraphale can do whatever the fuck they want. 

in my case, that probably means getting married and then kidnapping warlock

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #type: text #my writing #mine #meta #good omens meta

[yourpaceangel]

like a prayer - redux

[original on ao3] - [original on tumblr] - [redux on ao3]

Two days after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t Aziraphale finds himself nestled in the corner of his newly reconstituted bookshoppe, settled low in his soft leather reading chair. He holds a book in his hand gifted to him a century ago by Crowley. It was a copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz that Aziraphale had read enough he’d had to recover the paperback in leather. It was typically kept at his bedside or under lock and key in the shop, out of sight and certainly not for sale. On the table at his elbow his tea has long gone cold. It’s been drizzling all morning, a soft patter in the background, light enough to turn to white noise. Aziraphale sighs and puts the book down, using his thumb to hold his place. He doesn’t know why he’s pretending, he hasn’t read a word in over two hours. He’s been too busy thinking about Crowley. [1]

[1] That seems to be his default state these days; thinking about Crowley.

Aziraphale finds a scrap piece of paper and slides it into his book. He reaches for his tea and it’s warm again with just a thought. He holds the cup with both hands for something to do. He wonders where Crowley ran off to. He’d been in such a hurry the other day, finding an excuse to run off just moments after they’d switched back to their proper bodies. Aziraphale has a sinking suspicion he’d disappeared to one of his secret places. It wouldn’t be hard to find Crowley if he wanted to, but that feels like a terrible breach of trust.

There are places Crowley goes, when the world gets to be too much. [2] Aziraphale has never stepped foot - or wing - inside one of these sacred places. Aziraphale has never needed something like that, or he has but it’s the same as the place he lives. His shop, his flat, is his own sacred place.

[2] Heaven and Hell might have a bit to do with it, he supposes. Heaven is vast and achingly empty, so Aziraphale craves his tight cramped space that he can share with someone who cares about him. Hell is overcrowded and everything is forcibly shared, that Crowley would want something of his own is no wonder.

He’d never realized before just how much time Crowley spent in his shop, winding about the book shelves or napping on the couch in the back room. Aziraphale can feel his absence like a physical thing. He feels cold all over and the tea does nothing to warm him up.

Outside the rain gains more strength, loud enough for Aziraphale to notice. He frets with his tea for a moment before deciding to open a bottle of wine. The old armchair groans when he lifts himself out of it. His knees pop, more because he thinks they should than any actual need from his body. He potters about in his wine closet, running a hand absently over the labels.

He has his hand over the bottle of 1941 Haut-Brion when he’s suddenly aware that Crowley is back in London. He wonders what it is about himself that he has this almost sixth sense about where Crowley is. He wonders if Crowley has something similar, based on all the times Crowley’s showed up to save him from inconvenient discorporation.

‘I should check on him’, Aziraphale thinks, ‘just to be sure.’ [3] He grabs the bottle of 1941 and heads out the door. He doesn’t think about the rain until he’s already got the door locked behind himself. He could go back and grab an umbrella but he decides to brave the rain and makes his way over to Crowley’s flat in Mayfair.

[3] He’s not particularly worried that something might be wrong with his friend, but he’s not not worried either.

Aziraphale raps at the door with the back of his knuckles. He’s not entirely surprised when the door clicks open without Crowley on the other side to greet him. He steps inside the flat and hangs up his coat. Crowley’s own black coat is a puddle on the floor and Aziraphale wrinkles his nose in something akin to fondness, hanging that up for him as well.

He finds Crowley in his sitting room, sprawled indelicately across his stylish but uncomfortable couch with his arm over his eyes. “What do you want, angel?” Crowley asks, feigning annoyance. There’s a kind of lethal beauty to Crowley like this, a venomous snake curled up in a tree, lax but not harmless.

“Hullo my dear. I hadn’t seen you since- well, since-” He remembers Crowley’s hand in his own, the lithe delicate fingers wrapped around his own short thick ones. The weight of it. The warmth. Aziraphale had held on, perhaps a moment too long, after the swap back. [4] And then Crowley was ripping his hand away, mumbling excuses and running from St. James’s Park like the Devil himself was on his heels. “And I thought I might pop over for a bit, yeah? I brought a bottle of Chateau Haut-Brion from the cellar.”

[4] There were a lot of things he’d wanted to say then. Things he hadn’t been brave enough to before. Things that were easier to say now without the weight of Heaven on his shoulders.

Crowley sniffs a little at the promise of expensive wine and lets his arm fall away from his eyes. Crowley looks up at him, mouth pressed flat. He holds up the bottle of wine and smiles tentatively.

Crowley sits up fully, his shirt clinging to him. He looks like the rain has soaked him through. “Uh, yeah, okay.” His cheeks are a bit flush, likely from the heat pouring from mighty little space heater. It’s an attractive look.

“I’ll get some glasses,” Aziraphale says and then furrows his brow, “You’re awfully soaked my dear, maybe you should change clothes.”

Crowley tugs at his collar. “I don’t need you to mother me.” He sounds somewhere between fond and petulant.

“Someone has to,” Aziraphale counters and steps out of the room to find the wine glasses. He finds the corkscrew and wine glasses in Crowley’s kitchen, bringing them back into the sitting room.

Crowley is fully dry, likely an infernal miracle. Aziraphale pours their wine and toasts in celebration. “To the World,” He says and hears Crowley echo him as they touch their glasses together.

They stay up too late and break into Crowley’s wine reserves. Aziraphale laughs at a story Crowley’s been telling him about a time in the 15th century when he’d met Leonardo Da Vinci and the contents of some of his private journals. He grins at Crowley, pleasantly drunk and lazy. Crowley is looking back, his eyes unguarded and soft. Aziraphale’s heart thuds in his chest. “My dear, whatever are you staring at?” He asks, perhaps a touch too loud.

“Your hair looks ridiculous. A proper bird’s nest.”

“My hair?” Aziraphale tugs at the front, feeling for why Crowley thinks it might look off. “You think my hair looks ridiculous?” Crowley’s own hair is perfect, as always, and Aziraphale wants to bury his hands in it. He has since Mesopotamia. For some reason he doesn’t think Crowley would appreciate him saying so.

“Utterly.” Crowley says, amused. He’s beautifully drunk, teasing, leaning in close.

“You- your hair is ridiculous!”

“That so, angel?”

“That’s so!”

“Hm.” Crowley brings up his wine glass to hide that lovely smile and Aziraphale lurches.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Aziraphale shoots forward to press a finger against Crowley’s lips.

Crash

Crowley jerks back, putting distance between them again. His wine glass is shattered on the floor, wine seeping into the dark granite.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale exclaims, putting his own glass down gently, “Oh my dear I’m so sorry.” He’s not sure that he’s talking about spilled wine.

Crowley looks shaken. “That’s-” He clears his throat, “That’s quite alright.”

It isn’t. It hasn’t been since St. James’s Park. Aziraphale’s chest aches and he desperately wants to take Crowley’s hands in his own. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”

“Nothing a minor miracle can’t take care of.” Crowley says, staring down at the ground.

“No I mean-” Aziraphale shifts, leaning in close again, “Well I suppose I mean this, you and I?” His heart is somewhere in his throat and he tries to breathe through it.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

“Crowley you won’t even look at me.”

Crowley does, but his face is carefully neutral and his eyes are guarded again. “Honestly angel, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re going on about.”

He’s lying, and that hurts more than anything. Aziraphale had thought they were past lying to each other. He doesn’t know what to say. ‘Why don’t you trust me?’ He thinks, ‘Why do you seem so far away?’ Finally he settles on hurt. “You’re right, of course, my dear boy,” He stands and runs his hands over his slacks like he’s dusting himself off. He feels sober, despite the fact he has not miracled himself to be. “I’ve got- I have business to attend to, back at the shop, so unfortunately I must take my leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“More so than you.” Aziraphale waves his hand to clear the mess on the floor. “Goodnight my dear.”

“Night,” Crowley echoes.

Aziraphale takes his coat and leaves. He pretends, walking home, that the wetness on his cheeks is just from the rain.

Crowley disappears again, after that.

Aziraphale spends the next three days wandering his shop aimlessly. He opens the shop on the second day for two hours before he gets annoyed and closes back down. He tries to take inventory and finds himself getting distracted. His eyes will catch on stray sunlight streaming across the couch in his back room and find himself missing Crowley so ardently his stomach begins to ache.

When Crowley returns it takes everything in Aziraphale not to seek him out immediately. He takes himself out for sushi and on one night to the theater. He tries to fill his time with his favorite books, though the Wizard of Oz has been put away for the moment. He thumbs through his Oscar Wilde’s almost restlessly until he can’t take it anymore.

He tracks down Crowley in St. James’s Park. It’s set to rain again, the clouds hanging dark and moody in the sky above. Crowley’s sprawled out under a tree. “Budge up,” Aziraphale says, taking a seat on the ground next to him. He supposes any grass stains will be worth the moment. The air between them is charged with static. Crowley grunts and slithers closer to the trunk so Aziraphale can come further under the cover of leaves.

They’re both silent for a while. Aziraphale has a hundred things he wants to say, but can’t seem to find the words. Surprisingly it’s Crowley that breaks the silence first. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly.

Aziraphale looks down at him, shocked, “My dear boy, whatever are you sorry for?”

Crowley shrugs uncomfortably. “For last week I s’pose, I must’ve done something awful to make you leave in such a rush.”

Aziraphale feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Ah,” He says, “I ought apologize myself for that, leaving in such a huff was very ill mannered of me.”

“S’fine.”

‘Is it?’ Aziraphale thinks. ‘Are we?’ What he says is “Well, I suppose that’s settled.” He finds Crowley’s eyes through the dark lens of his glasses and smiles despite himself. “Lunch?”

Crowley grins.

They end up at a lovely little tapas place called Barrafinna. Crowley orders enough for the two of them and then lets Aziraphale have it all. Crowley is more at ease at lunch and it’s easy to tempt him into taking bites from his plate. Aziraphale offers a couple bites from his own fingers to see Crowley’s ears turn red.

Aziraphale dabs at his mouth with a napkin, humming pleasantly. “Utterly scrumptious. Are uh, are you going to finish that my dear?”

Crowley shakes his head and pushes his dessert plate across the table with a fond curl of his lips.

“Ah, thank you.”

Crowley hums, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He looks distant but lovely, always so lovely. Aziraphale closes his eyes to chew because if he looks at Crowley for a moment longer he might just blurt out his feelings right here at the table.

“Good?” Crowley asks.

“Marvelous,” Aziraphale says, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin, “my dear you do always know the best places.”

“I could take you to more, now that the world is saved and all.”

‘I love you.’ “I would like that very much.” Aziraphale drops his hands to his lap to hide their trembling.

Crowley coughs and curls his hand over his mouth, looking away. “Well then, home now angel?”

Aziraphale’s insides jerk, like the moment in a dream when you start to fall. He wants nothing more than to stay in Crowley’s company like this, forever. He takes a short breath and says carefully, “I thought today might be a rather nice day for a drive.”

“Angel, it’s raining.”

“Not to bad, no,” He feels like he’s begging. He shouldn’t be begging. “You can drive slow.”

“Well-”

“Come on Crowley, anywhere you want to go.”

Crowley closes his eyes. He looks utterly undone and Aziraphale wants to reach across the table and take his face in his hands. Wants to stroke those sharp cheekbones and kiss his brow. “Alright,” Crowley says and he’s practically breathless, “I’ll settle up.”

Aziraphale waits for him in the Bentley, thrumming with nervous energy. Crowley seems a bit dazed when he gets into the car. His hands are on the wheel but he’s not really moving them, the Bentley sliding neatly around traffic anyway. Aziraphale keeps his eyes on the passing buildings and steady stream of rain. He keeps his hands folded primly in his lap. He doesn’t trust himself not to reach across the cab and take one of Crowley’s in his own if he doesn’t.

The radio plays, filling the air between them. Aziraphale taps his fingers and hums vaguely along with the song playing. He knows the words, sort of, but mostly he knows the tune from hearing Crowley hum it so often.

Fields roll by. Crowley seems more in charge of the vehicle now, steadily ramping up the speed despite the rain and wet roads. He grips his own hands, white knuckled, and presses his lips thin. This moment, all of these moments, mean nothing if Crowley discorporates the both of them.

“Alright there angel?”

“I don’t see why you have to go so fast, my dear,” Aziraphale complains, clenching his own hand tighter through a rough curve, “why are you in such a hurry?”

The Bentley slows. “Don’t know any other way to go, angel,” Crowley says softly, almost absently. He’s not- They’re not talking about the drive anymore.

Aziraphale turns to look at him. Crowley fidgets under his gaze, turning his head to watch the road. He wants to know, he has to know-

“Where are we going, Crowley?” They’re not talking about the drive anymore.

“Anywhere. Wherever I stop. Anywhere is good enough as long as you’re beside me.”

Oh, and that’s- that’s what Aziraphale has wanted to hear for centuries. He inhales sharply and a shock of love suffuses through him like a lightning bolt. Crowley’s knuckles go white on the steering wheel and his shoulders tense up around his ears. He looks like he’s waiting for a death sentence.

“Yes,” Aziraphale says breathlessly, “Yes, alright.”

Crowley’s ears turn an endearing shade of pink and it’s all Aziraphale can do not to touch him.

They stop in Manchester for dinner and Aziraphale didn’t complain when they got back in the Bentley and continued driving north. Crowley turns the Bentley into a field somewhere south of Edinburgh, the car seeming to float over the grass and not leave tire tracks. He parks and the car goes blessedly silent.

There is no light around for miles save the moon and stars. Crowley looks ever so handsome backlit by starlight. He looks softer here, less sharp lines and more boneless. Aziraphale can’t help but stare, but it’s alright because Crowley is staring right back.

Aziraphale clears his throat, “Well…” He trails off. He’s quite forgotten what he meant to say.

“Well?” Crowley asks, the corner of his lips tilting up. He leans forward against the wheel. A lock of hair falls over his forehead. He looks quietly amused and smitten and Aziraphale wants.

“Yes, well…” He sighs. It feels important and he wants to do this right. He can see Crowley about to open his mouth so he barrels on, just to fill the quiet. “It’s very beautiful here, and the moon is so lovely and full tonight. It’s not often we get to see the stars.”

“I know,” Crowley hums. “This is one of mine, you know? I picked it for the stars and the smell of sweet grass. The wildflowers bloom madly in late spring.”

“You will have to bring me to see them, my dear,” Aziraphale smiles, “perhaps a picnic.”

Crowley’s hands tense back up again. “Yes,” He says, his throat working like he’s trying to get the words out past a lump, “I’ll make devilled eggs and you can make those damned cress sandwiches you’re so fond of.”

“Of course; and we’ll have wine, maybe a cake as well.” The thought hits him late. This is one of mine, you know? Crowley can’t mean, well, he can’t mean that- “Crowley,” He says slowly, “what did you mean this place is one of yours? You don’t mean-” He can’t be wrong, please don’t let him be wrong. “Crowley, my dear boy, is this one of your hiding spots?”

“I don’t use this one often but yes.”

“And you brought me here.”

“Yes.”

“With you.”

“Yes angel, do keep up.”

Aziraphale’s heart opens like a bloom. The intensity for which he years for Crowley magnifies ten fold at the way he sees Crowley’s hands begin to tremble. His eyes go rather misty as he says “oh Crowley.” Crowley tries to bury his shaking hands in his lap.

Aziraphale reaches across the cab - a lifetime of almosts in between them - and cradles Crowley’s jaw in his hand. Crowley sucks in a wet breath and blows it out trembling.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale finds Crowley’s hand with his own and grips him firmly, “You make me ever so happy.”

“Angel I-”

Aziraphale won’t allow any protest. “Dearest,” Aziraphale leans in, close as he dares and then closer still, “how I love you.” He used to pray like this, soft and reverential. Now it is only a tone he dares use for Crowley, a prayer he knows will be answered.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley gasps. Aziraphale can’t stand not seeing his eyes anymore. He needs- he has to know. He lets his fingers drift up to Crowley’s sunglasses and waits, needing permission to remove that last barrier between them. “Yeah.” Aziraphale removes his sunglasses with a tenderness he rarely displays. Crowley’s eyelashes are wet with unshed tears and Aziraphale drags his thumb tenderly under his eye. Crowley’s eyes open, completely vulnerable and trusting and still afraid.

“Oh love,” Aziraphale murmurs - he can’t stop himself, now that he’s said the words - as he wipes away a tear rolling down Crowley’s cheek. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“No,” Crowley breathes, “no, Aziraphale I-” he squeezes Aziraphale’s hand hard, “Angel I’ll ruin you.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale says because it’s true. He presses their foreheads together. Crowley’s breath is shaky but Aziraphale is steady and sure. He’s never been more sure of anything in his existence. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“I love you,” Crowley gasps, “I love you, I love you, I love you-” And Aziraphale breaks, pressing their mouths together to secure the words between their lips.

Kissing Crowley is everything. It’s millennia of feigned fights and soft bickering, of being treated to dining and wine and everything in between. Aziraphale has loved all of Crowley for hundreds of years, but he has the suspicion Crowley has waited longer, so much longer. ‘Thank you,’ He thinks, ‘Thank you for waiting for me.’ Crowley goes pliant and soft under him, opening himself to Aziraphale like he has over and over for thousands of years. This time Aziraphale won’t let him fall, this time Aziraphale will be there to catch him.

When Aziraphale pulls away Crowley chases after his mouth, bony hand darting up to clutch at the lapel of his jacket to keep him close. It’s endearing and heartbreaking.

“I’m here love,” Aziraphale says, running his thumb along Crowley’s jaw, “you have me. For as long as you like.”

“Long as I like?” Crowley’s cheeks are burning and he sounds lovestruck, “How’s eternity sound?”

Darling boy, precious boy. “I’d like that,” Aziraphale smiles and his heart yearns.

Crowley breathes and laces their fingers together. Crowley’s love feels like a torrent of rain after a draught, all consuming and unstoppable. Aziraphale wants to keep him like this, forever. He presses his lips to Crowley’s temple and then again to the thin skin under his eye. ‘I want to keep him, please let me keep him.’

They spend the night in a charming little hotel in Edinburgh, Crowley clinging to Aziraphale’s chest and Aziraphale’s hands in his hair. The drive back to London the next day in spent in companionable silence, their hands clasped together between them. Aziraphale kisses Crowley’s knuckles and runs a thumb over the back of his hand just because he can.

When they make it back to the bookshoppe Crowley sprawls out across the couch in the back room like he belongs there. And he does, belong there. Aziraphale finds his copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and shuffles Crowley around until he can sit and let Crowley place that lovely head of his in his lap. He wonders if Crowley will let him read it to him some time. Time being something that they have much of now, all the time in the World.

A month later they’re in New York City. Crowley opens the door to a lovely rooftop garden. Some of the plants here shouldn’t be here, a couple are even extinct. When Crowley lets the door slam shut behind them the flowers shake in their pot. Above them and crawling along the walls is a handsome English Ivy that seems to wave hello. Aziraphale recognizes it after a moment as the same kind that used to grow along the side of his shop and he smiles at Crowley, touching the creeping vines.

“Lovely,” He says, “Really beautiful.”

“Oh hush,” Crowley says, “you give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.”

“Nothing wrong with a little bit of positive reinforcement. You seem to enjoy it, as I recall.”

“Shut up,” Crowley whines, the tips of his ears turning that charming shade of pink.

Aziraphale steps in close to hold Crowley’s face in his hands. He lets his fingers dance along the little blush on his ears. “Precious boy,” He says, pressing a kiss to a sharp cheekbone.

Across the room an attractive Rose bush bloom, pink and red petals opening and letting out a soothing sweet aroma. A pot of green carnations turn toward them. Above, that old English Ivy ripples.

Crowley ducks his head to hide it against Aziraphale’s collar bone, sighing softly. Aziraphale reaches his hands back to play with Crowley’s hair. It’s something he’s found himself doing more of lately, twirling dark red locks between his fingers while he reads or drinks his tea. “I like this,” Aziraphale says, meaning many things, “I’m glad you decided to show me.” He’s happy, and proud, and very much in love.

“I like you,” Crowley says, kissing Aziraphale’s neck like a punctuation. He looks up to glare at his plants. “Don’t get any ideas, I’ll still bin the lot of you.”

Aziraphale laughs. “You won’t.”

He’s right.

#fic #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #mine

[shih-coulda-had-it]

the atoms of our bodies belong to the universe (1/?)

Summary: A Good Omens!AU where an angel and a demon have an Arrangement in Japan, in an effort to replicate whatever made Aziraphale and Crowley immune to the one thing that can kill them. It’s been working for about two hundred years, but as it happens, Satan’s spawned a child some fifty years too early for the next scheduled Armageddon.

.

.

The Principality now known as Nana hadn’t been close to Aziraphale. But she knew that he’d had the longest stay on Earth; six thousand years, fluttering further and further north of his original territory until he settled in England. And right ahead of him (or perhaps at his heels) was the agent of Hell that also held the record of longest duration without discorporation.

She’d concluded thusly that there had been an arrangement of sorts, for the original agents on Earth to last those long millennia. So when Nana received her orders to take flight to Japan--a site of great importance for the future, they had stressed--she determined the first priority was to form… a truce of sorts with the demon.

They were not difficult to find. All she had to do was trace the sulfurous scent of discontent, from point of origin to place of interest: the aforementioned ramen stall.

“One shoyu, extra egg, please,” she called out sunnily, taking a seat next to the silver-haired demon, ignoring how they flinched away.

The chef grunted in acknowledgment. The demon looked studiously down at their bowl of tonkatsu. Their mouth was tilted into a frown, and the lips barely moved as they muttered, “This is unorthodox.”

“Everything’s out of sorts,” she agreed. “Call me Nana.”

“Mm.” Reluctantly, they offered, “Sorahiko.” 

It was a name with implications. Much like hers, she supposed. “So you’re new too?”

“What gave it away?”

“You feel pretty miserable, even for a stationed agent of Hell.” With grace, Nana accepted the bowl, said the customary thanks, and split her chopsticks apart. “My predecessor retired. I think I’m the… seventh to watch over Japan? We generally have pretty good track records.”

“How reassuring,” said Sorahiko drily. “So Hell has six angels to blame for over five thousand discorporations in the past five thousand years.”

“Over five thousand?!”

He shrugged. “I’m number five thousand and eighty-one.” For the first time, Sorahiko glanced up from his meal to meet Nana’s eyes. His were the color of dulled copper, with thin slices of obsidian for pupils. “I’m guessing you’re not here to discorporate me.”

Nana was still coming to terms with ‘over five thousand’ demons trying to survive Japan’s resident angels. Even for an angel, that kind of discorporation count… “No, goodness no. I was thinking about Aziraphale and Crowley, actually. How they’re the ones with the longest records of survival.”

“So?”

“You’re not curious?” she baited.

“About?”

“Hear me out. Usually, we agents get all caught up in discorporating the other agents to get them off the playing field. By your records, we get really caught up. But what if we had a truce about it?”

The word ‘truce’ had him stop eating. His eyebrows were coming together, and Nana could see the demon working through the logistics. She rejoiced inwardly. He was considering it! “You think… Aziraphale and Crowley had a truce?”

“Aziraphale’s no fighter,” Nana asserted. “But six thousand years, Sorahiko. They must have made a deal.”

“... What would a truce entail?”

“Mutual respect. Open communication. Y’know, friendship?”

Sorahiko laughed, but his puzzled expression defanged the derisive tone. “You’d trust a snake?”

She bumped elbows with him. “C’mon,” she cajoled. “I wouldn’t make this offer if I was like my predecessors. Don’t you want to see where Japan’s headed? My superiors said this place was going to be of,” here, Nana imitated their patronizing voices, “great importance.”

“... They told you that too.”

“Figured everyone got that talk.” Nana cocked her head. “So do we have a truce?”

//

“That thing our superiors told us,” Sorahiko said, then faltered. He’d just received the news from Hell, and wasn’t it a blow, that as he and Nana were doing their best to imitate Crowley and Aziraphale, they would also be subjected to the same trials? And what’s more, have a premature trial?

They were on their roof, overlooking the dozens of pedestrians below, a glamour preventing any stray eyes from finding two pro-heroes skipping on the job.

He wanted to conceal the news. Let Hell take their course, and let Nana be none the wiser.

“What about it? Didn’t we agree they were referring to Quirks in that vague, ineffable way?”

… she’d discorporate him over it. This, Sorahiko realized glumly.

“Did you ever think about what they meant?” He scuffed the toe of his boot, anxiety shooting through him.

“Not really,” Nana confessed. “Like I said when we first met. I thought they told every agent that.” She peered at him with those storm gray eyes, the ones that flashed bright with gold divine lightning when she tapped into her grace. Curiosity threatened their entire Arrangement. “What did you find out?”

“Hell… is trying for another child,” he tried framing delicately.

“Like… conceptually?”

“There is definitely a conception being planned,” he hedged. “But also an unplanned conception. That has occurred.”

Nana’s eyebrows rose. “What, he didn’t use protection?”

Sorahiko squirmed.

//

“Quirkless,” said Nana blankly. “I… did his heritage interfere...?”

Sorahiko scratched his chin. “I mean. It’s only in the past two centuries that Quirks finally popped up in the human genome. Maybe mommy Satan gestated too early for Quirks.”

“... So one, never say mommy Satan with a straight face ever again.” As she laid down the law, she tracked the lonely preteen’s path to an empty patch of grass. She and Sorahiko had finally tracked down Yagi Toshinori (she got the name; he found the boy), and now they were stalking the boy via peering down on him from the school roof. A well-intentioned miracle prevented any curious eyes from looking up. “And two, are you certain this is him?”

“You can’t feel it?”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with Satan’s signature, no.”

“It’s…” Sorahiko too studied Toshinori. “It’s like the taste of harsh sunlight,” he decided. How poetic! “Powerful, radiating, and liable to burn the whole earth. Brat might not have a Quirk, but I’ll bet anything he just needs his body to mature first.”

“Hm…”

Yagi Toshinori did not have the happiest origin story. Orphaned at a young age, passed on from foster home to foster home, citing cheap excuses that veiled a distaste for his Quirkless state (and his mixed looks)… it was a wonder Toshinori hadn’t tapped into some primordial rage and unleashed it onto his bullies.

Nana had an idea. “You said that Hell doesn’t care about him anymore?”

“Yeah.” Sorahiko shuffled his feet. “Kill order got rescinded a decade ago, when they figured out no demonic surges of energy were popping up by age four.”

“Goodness,” she muttered. A kill-order. And it wasn’t like Heaven wouldn’t condemn the poor child either—their lack of response to Satan’s prematurely born child of prophecy was due only to Nana’s judicious decision to… forget to mention it. “Wanna hear my proposal?”

“Proposal about what?”

He was in the middle of yawning—broad daylight tended to make him sleepy—when Nana guiltlessly announced, “Adopting the not-Antichrist.” The rest of his oxygen left him quickly, and over the sound of his choking, Nana continued, “Think of it as our next Arrangement. We co-parent the not-Antichrist in preparation for the real deal! Test of good influences versus bad, so to speak.”

“He’s already fourteen,” Sorahiko protested. “What parenting experience can be left?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, indignant. “Did you think we were going to raise the real Antichrist from birth? You said Hell would assign a family for him to grow up in.”

“... Oh, I know what this is.”

“You do?”

“It’s guilt,” he pronounced. “You’re feeling guilty about seeing this kid be all lonely and pathetic.”

Nana made a face at him. “And?”

“He could be a brat!” To prove his point, he gestured below to a preteen vandalizing the school building with a marker (she could see the miracle nudging the kid to form the largest ‘FUCK COPS’ his little arms could manage). Sorahiko then added, “We don’t have to get invested in a life that won’t mean anything in the long run.”

“Who says that?”

“What?”

“Who says he won’t mean anything?” Nana rubbed her knees and climbed to her feet. A little reluctantly, Sorahiko followed her lead. “Aren’t you even just a little bit sympathetic to his situation?”

He scowled.

.

.

#bnha #shimura nana #torino sorahiko #gran torino #good omens!au #shih.txt #shih's art #/jazzhands/ it's here!! my go!au!! #spoilers: nana gives her grace to toshinori #toshinori passes it onto deku #but also afo gives a scrap to tenko #d-december

[theheartchoice]

 Providence 

dean/cas  |  teen  |  2k  |  canonverse s6  |  ao3 

for @profoundnet's bi-weekly Bot Stat challenge. prompt issued: July 9th 2019 

dedicated to @saltnhalo ~ crack-free! 😘

Dean is cleaning his gun. Cas is the pizzaman. Sam is on the demon blood again.

Dean doesn't miss the apple-pie life, not really. He's a Hunter and this is what they do, this is the life for him. Doesn't mean he can't do with some small comforts, now and then. Or some hope - even if it's just a clue to find a way to stop the stuff of nightmares from wreaking havoc on the world. Pizza helps, too.

So, she broke things off.

..Unclip the mag.. 

So what?

..Clear the chamber.. 

Not like Dean really expected it to last, right?

..This cloth probably needs to be thrown.. 

Guess it was nice while it lasted.

..Where's the pipe cleaner?.. 

Maybe it would've been nice to last a while longer.

..Need more oil.. 

Had a whole year, though. And it was a pretty good year, as Hunter standards go.

..Should grab some rock salt, too. Runnin' low.. 

Sure as hell wasn't perfect. Dean was no model boyfriend or parental figure. Not with all his baggage, his demons.

..Need to make a list. Probably need a bunch of stuff. Wonder if Soulless Sammy's hacked any more cards yet.. 

That life isn't the thing to miss, though. That's not the life for him. He misses them. Her smile, her strength, her warmth. Little Ben growing up so fast, Dean pained he'll miss the rest. But he's not that guy - Mr. Family Man. They deserve better.

..They can hit the store before they leave town. Baby needs fuel. Grab some Johnny to replace the backup. Get outta dodge before the rains come. Sam can find 'em a case once they hit the interstate. They need snacks for the road, too. With any luck they'll find some monster to gank by nightfall.. 

Dean's only halfway through with their arsenal when his stomach reminds him he's past due for supper. Dinner had been a bust; Soulless Sam needs a lesson in acceptable menu classics, asap. Forget beheading a vamp with a baseball bat he could've sworn wasn't on the pitch a moment earlier - Dean'll be lucky not to get salmonella poisoning from that so-called food!

The mini fridge is bare, the cooler barer - unless you count half a dozen syringes of Dead-Man's blood. Dean doesn't. But considering Sam's choice for dinner, maybe he does? Never again. Sam is off food-duty until further notice.

What Dean could really go for, right now, is some pizza. Extra Large and all to himself. There's gotta be takeout menus around here somewhere.

He's barely scuffed one boot over the worn carpet when there's a rap at the door. At midnight. Sam wouldn't knock. Soulless Sam even less likely. 

Grabbing one from the newly-cleaned stash, Dean silently draws up into the crook of wall between door and curtained window, gun cocked. Swift to pull it open and hard to throw himself against it, on the other side of that door is the last person Dean expected to see. "Cas?" Standing in a fuzzy halo of sickly yellow halogen, holding a goddamned miracle in his arms. "Is that pizza?"

"I thought you might be hungry."

"For me?" Cas nods. Dean yanks him - and the pizza - inside. "I'm starved, actually. That's some good timin'."

And so much for the brief trip into Bizarro World where a certain Angel actually respects personal space; Cas' hands are on Dean - shoulder and forehead as he tries to lean over the table, flipping the lid to inspect the toppings. Meatlovers and extra BBQ sauce. Awesome. But those hands are turning him away from pizza, now. "What's up with you?"

"You're not in any stage of starvation, Dean. You're in perfect health.. Aside from you-.. your wrist." He takes Dean's arm from bicep to sprain without hesitation. "What happened?"

It's kinda hard to shrug outta the grip of a guy who could literally throw you as far as the eye can see. "Vamp nest. But we got 'em, no biggy." No more deaths once they arrived in town, too, which was a nice change. "Can we eat? Sam bought, like, raw fish for dinner, man - I think it's still swimmin' around in there." Dean eyes the garbage where he tossed his takeout container, forcing back bile at the memory: one hasty bite before he'd realised his mistake. It had been.. slimy. 

One of Cas' hands slips from his bicep to palm over Dean's stomach. The other leaves his wrist, at least, so Dean seizes the moment and steals the nearest slice from the box; chase away a bad memory with something good. OH, yeah - screw clouds - this is heaven. 

"Nihon unagi." 

"Huh―?" Dean tries not to let the precious pizza tumble from his mouth. 

"Freshwater eel, and they're not swimming. Not consciously, anyway."

Dean's jaw stills. He stares at Cas. 

"Digestive enzymes."

Oh, of course. 

Cas' eyes refocus on Dean's pizza. No - his hand. His injury. "May I..?" 

Mid-chew, Dean figures it can't hurt. He switches his pizza from right to left and holds out the sprain he'd forgot he had. 

Cas' hand closes careful around it, a slip of warmed ice flowing quick through Dean's veins - and then his minor injury is minor no more.

"Thanks," Dean murmurs, and follows it with another mouthful of beef and pepperoni.

Cas leaves him to his second slice to survey the room. "Where is Sam?"

"Li'b'ary.." This is food. This is what every meal should taste like. All the meat, rich with smokey goodness. "R'se'rch."

"I thought you said the case was over?" Cas regains some proximity to the little round table where Dean stands with hips hugging the large pizza box. He takes a few moments to chew, swallow - rushing the savour-part, but Angels don't really understand the pleasure of a good pizza-pie, now do they?

"Not that. Purgatory." With slice #3 in hand, he realises he's got nothing to wash it down with. Slightly annoyed, he leads Cas past the bed laden with guns to the one neatly made with a duffel bag open on top. He pulls out a book, hands it over. "Officially, it's a work of fiction, and we still don't really know what we're dealin' with exactly, but.." He takes another bite. "..There may be a way to counteract the spell Crowley plans on usin'. Last line of defense, sorta thing."

Cas goes pensive and Dean goes back to his pizza, leading Cas over to their Wall of Crazy. They're still trying to track Crowley's whereabouts; It's ongoing. Vamps get beheaded on slow progress days.

"It's almost midnight."

So..? 

"The library would be closed."

Dean gawks. "You know what time libraries close in small-town America?" Cas nods, clearly not seeing the issue. Whatever. "Not a library, a church. Secret archive in the foundations. The pastor, Father Roberto, let him in, a favour for takin' care of the vamps." The fact that one of them had been a colleague of his must've hit close enough to home to warrant unlocking the storm shelter: a small basement room stocked with hunter-esque reads. The guy had only been in their once - twice, including when he caught his former colleague breaking the rules with B&E (and reading). 

They may not find anything ther, but since Sam doesn't need sleep nowadays he agreed to pull the all-nighter and check for certain before they skip town. 

Gaze flitting from Dean and his pizza, to the leatherback book in his hands and up to the Crazy Wall, Cas keeps his thoughts to himself. He looks concerned, wary almost.

"You okay?"

Cas turns the book over, gently. "Where did you get this?" he says to the back cover.

"St. Bruno's. Got quite the collection of lore stashed away in the basement, but Roberto confiscated that one from one of the vamps, before.." Dean trails off, leaving out the details of his bloody foul ball at the local park. "Demonic possession's a big feature, no surprises there. Some monster stuff and gods stuff scattered through - most of it we know already from Bobby's. Also a bunch of balony text. But there was a couple dozen copies of that," he points at Cas' hands with his pizza tip, "so we figured we should see what else was down there that might be useful."

He joins Cas by the map printouts, newspaper clippings, highlighted notes and online article stubs. He watches as Cas traces delicate fingers over the black leather and gold-embossed spine. There's something about the way he handles it - with such care, and hesitation. It's a little odd, but then again he did kinda the same thing with Chuck's books, too. Only this time he hasn't even opened it. 

"It's a graphic novel," Dean explains, "Words and images in a badass, super freaky, pretty damn cool comic strip setup." He'd been more impressed by it than Sam. Apparently his brother's passion for all things Geek was another thing that'd been left behind. It's one thing Dean never thought he'd miss.

Cas is still regarding the ripples in the leather when Dean's pocket vibrates. "You find somethin'?" The last thing he expects to hear are the words Demon and Blood, but measured against the bar of strangeness and crappy circumstance that is their lives, Dean's not as freaked out as he probably should be.

Soulless Sam, Heaven at war with itself, Purgatory existing, Angelic pizza-men.. Anything's possible these days. 

"What about Demon Blood?" Cas must feel Dean's eyes on him because he looks up to pay attention. Dean nods along, shakes his head, wishes he had that spare Johnny to wash down the news. "Yeah, okay. Grab what you can. Forget finding a new case, we'll head to Bobby's in the morning." Hanging up, Dean can feel Cas' eyes on him. "Apparently, St. Bruno's has a book on demons we haven't seen before. Says somethin' about Demon blood relating to Purgatory, but he can't read much of it. Says it's in 'some kind of code'," and Dean shakes his head away from the shadowy thought of just how much of 'Sam' is really left. 

Code-breaking? He used to do that shit for fun, at breakfast, before Dean had even poured his first cup of coffee. Now he.. can't? Or he's just not interested? Dean's not sure which is worse. 

Cas' face steals back to Angelness, all signs of wariness painted over with a blank canvas. He glances at the clock, oddly, and places the book gently down on the nightstand. "I have to go." 

And it's not like Dean expected him to stay, but it would've been nice. Least he brought pizza. "Yeah, okay. We'll keep in touch, let you know what we find." 

Cas nods, and Dean can tell he's about to I Dream of Jeannie it outta there, so he quickly adds, "―You too, you hear me? Don't be a stranger." They lock eyes for a moment, and it feels like old times. "Thanks for the pizza." 

With a tilted trace of a smile, Cas nods again, softer. "Be careful, Dean." 

The fridge kicks on as invisible wings take flight. An owl hoots somewhere outside, waiting for an answer. It's suddenly quiet and the room feels empty in a way it hadn't before. Lonely. 

He flicks on the old box set, turns some late night movie low, and snags the pizza box along with the little black book to settle down in the neatly made bed, tossing his duffel aside.

HP Lovecraft may have some relevance to what they're dealing with, but for now he just reads for the hell of it. To get lost in it; someplace else, somehow familiar. It's a clue, a step in the right direction, hopefully. And though it's not exactly a comfort, there's something grounding in knowing the answers are out there, somewhere. They just gotta keep looking. 

There's fiction and there's reality, and sometimes the impossible is what's real. Sometimes it's a nightmare instead of a dream. That's the Hunter life. Figuring out what's dark fantasy and what's really lurking in the shadows. 

No Lisa, no Ben. No Sam, even if he walked through that door right now. Bobby three states away. Cas off at war. 

He's got pizza and Lovecraft's Cosmicism and Mitchum on the grainy tube. It's not everything, but it's enough. With any luck he'll dream of something better, something more. Probably the best he can hope for, really: if he can't have a better life, dreams might be the closest he ever gets. 

But as long as he gets his four hours, he'll manage, dreams (or nightmares) or no. 

The telltale pitter-patter of rain starts in, grows steadily heavier as the pages turn, the black-and-white noir futzing and pizza filling him, making him sleepy. He drifts off to the flicker of blue neon through the tear in the curtain by his bed, distantly wishing he'd removed his boots or at least his belt; it's digging into him, but he knows on the plus side he'll be ready to jump up and fight if something goes bump in the night.

Just another night in the Hunter's life.

#destiel ficlet #s6 #profoundnet #botstat #angel cas #pizza #soulless sam #night #lonely dean #hunter dean #myficlets #deancas #cv #teen #dean pov #motels #hp lovecraft #purgatory portal

[eturni]

Day 13 - Gift wrap

Day 13 of @drawlight​​ ‘s advent calendar challenge. https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/189391982184/drawlight-drawlight-aziraphale-crowley-for Today is technically wrapping paper. Instead it’s gift wrap as there’s an early form of wrapping presents in cloth called furoshiki. Featuring a hot spring in the winter, a female presenting Aziraphale and a writer who is just so tired guys.

I’m travelling all day today so I wanted to get it posted but set straight to writing after getting finished working overnight counting votes. Please either forgive or point out any glaring errors.

“You know I am absolutely not getting out until spring, right angel?” Crowley groused as he lowered himself into a sinfully warm hot spring with a low groan of relief. There were dozens upon dozens of yuzu floating in the water; filling the air with the rich tart scent. That and the mixture of heat and steam were almost enough to make Crowley forgive Aziraphale for deciding that a crowded onsen halfway up a mountain in the middle of winter would be a god place to bring a demon with a serpent aspect for a meeting.

Almost.

As it was he planned to grouse and bitch as well as Aziraphale himself until he felt suitably mollified or at least got an apology. Then he would go find the gift that he had left with his clothes, carefully wrapped in furoshiki cloth and kept cool and dry away from the spring, just to watch the angel light up from within and no doubt immediately give in to his hedonistic tendencies.

He soon found his sunglasses fogged up and absently expended a minor miracle to keep them clear while he was here. Even the new clarity didn’t reveal Aziraphale to him. At least the angel had blessedly chosen a suitably busy spot that they could blend in to a degree. They might stick out like a sore thumb really but most angels and demons likely didn’t have enough clue about humans to notice the difference.

It made it all the more alarming that he hadn’t spotted Aziraphale yet. He could definitely get the sense that the other was here.

“Aziraphale?”

Startled by the very sudden and obvious accent a young man next to Crowley spun around. Then craned his neck a little upwards. “Over there. I think.” He offered, a slightly nervous smile that Crowley brushed off. Even with his eyes covered humans often somehow knew that there was something unsafe about him.

“Come on what the heaven are you pla-”

The demon all but froze in the water, mouth going a little dry as the heat of the water and the air around him suddenly became so much more noticeable. He thought he’d been prepared for this. He was not prepared at all for Aziraphale to have chosen a more feminine presentation. Even in a more masculine corporation Aziraphale was softness and gentle rolling hills. Feminine she’s all curves with barely a hint of a hard edge on her and thankfully, blessedly, terribly covered from the chest down by the water.

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/51964078 or:

Crowley could see, if he ventured. He could glance below the rippling water and drink up what he found there. He wouldn’t survive it, like taking in holy water willingly, would be changed forever and unable to go back. He kept his gaze up; where slightly longer hair just grazed the edges of shoulders. Pure white like a halo in the light coming down from the mountain.

“Oh, Crowley!” The voice tipped a little higher than usual and Crowley felt his own throat constrict. The exclamation sounded almost breathy with the new voice and Crowley wondered that he might discorporate or worse if he didn’t get his thoughts under control. “I’m so glad you could make it. Sorry. I was just speaking with this gentleman here about procuring an early copy of the Tale of Genji. You see it’s the most wonderful story-”

Crowley felt himself smile despite the cold outside and despite his insistence that he would be mad as hell about it. There was something about listening to Aziraphale go on about books that made him feel terribly fond and he almost lost track of the conversation just letting the lilt of her voice wash over the core of him.

“Are you even paying attention?” Finally came through. Aziraphale sat there with a single eyebrow raised and a pout to her lips that Crowley desperately wanted to press a thumb against, just to watch the water press its sheen there.

“Yeah just, you were going on a bit and did you have business you wanted to discuss?” He swallowed down the uncertainty and moved up a little closer to Aziraphale regardless, watching the angel narrow her eyes and continue to rest in the water with an air that, while equally haughty as a man, had some edge to it in a more feminine corporation that gave Crowley pause.

Indeed, though Aziraphale had taken to Japan like -whichever animal takes well to water-  there was evidently a certain amount of distance that she commanded from those around her.

Crowley had no way of knowing it at that precise moment but it was partially because the angel’s pale skin and paler hair had very nearly had her mistaken for a yuki-onna recently. While on closer inspection she was clearly just a very odd sort of foreigner there was still a certain degree of anxiety that her presence caused over winter.

“Well yes. I had rather hoped we could take in some of the more traditional activities first but if you are going to be a bother about it.”

Crowley was already scrambling for a ‘no bother at all, just wondering’ or something of the like when Aziraphale stood and the world tipped on its axis threatening to buck the demon off. He had the hysterical thought for just a moment that he should grab something to stop himself falling off but the only thing close to him were bobbing yuzu and soft thick <i>thighs</i> and the thought alone stopped Crowley from being able to think at all.

When reason returned to him Aziraphale was already gently folding a towel over herself; furoshiki gift wrap over a present Crowley didn’t deserve and wouldn’t dare ask for but desperately coveted nonetheless.

“Now, there’s a wonderful tea house nearby that we can certainly sit in to discuss business. It is, perhaps, just as busy but they do offer private rooms for sensitive matters.”

A sound caught in Crowley’s throat that tried to be an assent but just wrapped itself around a few random consonants and hoped for the best. He was following Aziraphale’s pointed tilt of the head before he had time to remember that the air was frigid and he’d been in a bath. Luckily a towel was pressed into his hands by someone thinking a lot more pragmatically than his poor, lust-addled brain could even try to. She even did him the favour of rerouting him to the men’s area when he was about to follow her blindly out of the baths.

All the time in the world to try and press those images, and reactions, down would never be enough so it was unsurprising that Crowley remained mute and pliable when Aziraphale met him outside of the establishment.

Her kimono had been hand made at some point while she was here and somehow having more of her skin covered under more layers only made Crowley think of how slow he could take the unwrapping if he ever dared to reach out and try. If he could ever be allowed.

Instead he allowed himself to be led and shown where to sit and offered tea. Aziraphale was already halfway through explaining why she needed a hand on this particular mission when Crowley finally remembered his gift to her.

He pulled it from his sleeve, a box wrapped in delicate, colourful fabric with a little knot at the top that Aziraphale deftly undid with one hand as she spoke, barely looking.

Crowley knew without a doubt that she could undo him just as easily and it punched the breath from his lungs.

“Oh Crowley how very thoughtful, they’ll go perfectly with the tea.” The bright smile at the array of mochi was indeed everything Crowley hoped it would be but he still shrugged a little as though to deny he’d put much thought into it at all. “You’re really very kind when you want to be.” The smile lost some of it’s brightness but only grew in warmth as Aziraphale slid the gift-wrap cloth out from under the box and methodically folded it with a  precision and slowness that made Crowley quake as her fingers moved along the fabric.

“Alright, don’t go shouting it to-”

“There’s nobody here to shout it to. For now we’re safe enough, even with whatever this is. Do try to relax just for now. There’s a dear.”

Crowley nodded and picked up his tea, not caring that it scalded him as he took a drink and watched, helplessly transfixed, as Aziraphale ever so gently brushed the furoshiki against her cheek before reverently tucking it into her own sleeve. Crowley could see where it grazed wrist and inner arm as it was put away and had to close his eyes against the thought of following the path with hungry lips.

Years later he would find the cloth again among Aziraphale’s treasures hidden away in a room of the bookshop that was scarcely used and that even Crowley had not been allowed in until the Apocalypse had been averted.

He might even hope, though he couldn’t know if he was correct, that Aziraphale might occasionally take it out to brush against his skin and remember a cold Touji day part way up a mountain. He most certainly would never get the courage to ask and so the truth of the matter lies only with a very tight-lipped angel.

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #ineffable partners #mini fic

[otome-addicts-notsoanonymous]

This is the entry by @voltage-fanfictions​ for the fanfic giveaway! Remember, in order to vote you must COMMENT on this post! All the voting rules and the master post can be found under #fanficgiveawaymaster, or here. Other submissions can be found on the master post, or under #fanficsubmissions

Christmas Miracle [Kissed by the Baddest Bidder x Star Crossed Myth crossover] [Reader Insert] [Giveaway Entry]

Huffing, you lifted yourself from your position at the bedside, checking no-one was around before cracking your back upon standing. With Chisato and Sakiko having been called off to cover work elsewhere in the hotel you were left to fend for yourself until they were complete whatever tasks they were assigned, so with a quick once over of the room hoping that your pager stayed quiet, unfortunately for you, as it always did, the pager in your pocket started buzzing. Of course, you were left with no choice but to drop your equipment and made a mad dash for the penthouse.

“You’re late.” Eisuke’s announcement was anything but a shock to you, only on one or two occasions in which you happened to be close by to the penthouse anyway had you managed to be on time. You simply gave a small smile.

“I’m assuming you would like coffee.” You didn’t even bother to wait for a response as you made your way over to the coffee machine and began creating the in demand beverages, placing them in front if the corresponding bidders. You went to leave the room but Eisuke’s voice behind you stopped you in your tracks.

“There’s a business meeting this Saturday. You’re coming with me.” Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Um, Mr. Ichinomiya, I’m really sorry but I can’t.” You didn’t even need to look at him to know you were being pierced with an icy glare. Mamoru whistled under his breath.

“Damn kid, finally grow a backbone?” Shrinking back, you could only stutter out.

“I’m so sorry, but I already have plans and I can’t get out of them. Even for you.” Before you had to endure to wrath that would come from your refusal you turned leave again, only to run smack into someone in the doorway. Losing your balance, you expected to fall face first to the ground only to be caught by someone.

“Good grief, keep your eyes forward and look where you’re going!” You glanced up and gave a sheepish smile to a rather annoyed looking Shuichi who was still supporting your frame against him. Wordlessly, he steadied you on your feet before stepping around you and moving into the room, giving you your chance to escape.

It’s not that you didn’t want to help Eisuke, honestly you were terrified to go against their wishes, but the people you were agreeing to meet were even more powerful, and you weren’t sure which group to be more afraid of, the bidders or the gods. The bidders may be powerful, but even they couldn’t compare to divine beings, and you’d thought your life couldn’t possibly get more chaotic, but as if to prove you wrong life had dumped this in your lap.

Your meeting with the gods had been far from expected, but then again who goes to a planetarium expecting to fall off the room, be saved by gods, told you’re a reincarnated goddess and that you were needed to absolve their sins. I mean it’s hardly a typical Saturday, yet that was exactly what had happened to you the previous January.

As you could imagine those interesting relationships got off to a rocky start, the gods weren’t participating kind to begin with, fighting over who got use of you first only to then be furious to find you couldn’t just snap your fingers and remove their marks of sin. You almost slapped them at that point, did then honestly expect to just show up in front of you and for you to tell them that you knew exactly what they needed? For gods, they were a little dumb in that sense. So being the almighty beings they were they decided they were going to ruin the little time you had off. Great.

This has been going on for about eleven months now, you’d spent equally with each god and somehow their marks of sin had faded, only recently did the final one fade and even though you were happy to be getting the time back, you couldn’t help but be a little sad that you wouldn’t see them again, until of course you received the message yesterday from Altair that you needed to go to the mansion on Saturday because the gods had news for you. By some miracle over the past twelve months you had somehow avoided clashing diaries with the two, but you guessed your luck had to run out at some point and although the bidders could make your life hell, they were not divine beings with powers that could be used to harass you until you did as they asked, and the arrangement was made with them first so for the first time you turned down Eisuke Ichinomiya, I mean he had to understand his one time in the entire time they held ownership over you, right? Still, knowing Mr. Ichinomiya it would probably be safer to ask the gods to use the sofa in the mansion for the night before, so when the next day had passed you did just that.

The journey to the mansion gave time for the exhaustion of the week to set in. The Christmas period, which was pretty much from the end of Halloween now, was always busy in any form of service or retail work, but there seemed to be a lot of guests who had yet to feel the festive cheer. You knew you weren’t the only one who noticed, many of the staff were commenting on how some of the guests seemed meaner, and you had to agree. Sure, it wasn’t odd to deal with a complaint or two, but the sheer volume of upset customers you were dealing with was completely abnormal especially for the time of year.

Reaching the mansion, you forewent knocking because you were freezing and stepped inside, removing the gloves from your hand and rubbing the cold appendages together. No doubt hearing the door close, Dui emerged into the hallway. He looked slightly shocked for a moment before running up to you.

“What’re you doing here? Is there a problem?” You shook your head in response.

“No Dui, no problems as such.” Noticing your reddened fingers, with a slight blush he took your hands in his own, allowing the warmth of his hands to bleed into your own.

“Is there something we can do for you then, there must be something to bring you here this late and in this weather.”

“Well actually, I do have a bit of a strange request.”

“Oh? What’s that?” You thought for a moment about the phrasing before just deciding being blunt about it would be easier.

“I was wondering if I could perhaps stay the night.” If you though his blush couldn’t deepen more you were wrong. His entire face was practically the same shade as the cherries he so adored. His widened eyes met yours and you realised at that point exactly what he was thinking, but before you got the chance to correct him another voice joined the conversation.

“Staying the night? Well you’re always welcome in my room.” Partheno gave that flirty smirk he always did, you could practically feel him undressing you with his eyes and he slid next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and discreetly pulling your hands from within Dui’s grasp.  “If you want me, just say the word and I will show you quite the night.” The hand at you waist crept lower and lower. Just as his hand was creeping low enough to be deemed socially inappropriate and you could see Dui getting ready to intervene, yet another voice was heard.

“Partheno. I think it’s best you stop now.” You turned to see Karno descending down the stairs with his normal calm expression. “You wouldn’t want to be accused of sexual harassment, would you?” Partheno smiled in return, looking at you.

“Harassment? I’m just inviting her to join me in bed tonight.”

“Partheno!” Dui’s cheeks exploded into redness again as Karno shook his head with a chuckle.

“I don’t think you’ll have the time. Zyglavis is calling you two, you should probably head back to the heavens.”

“What a shame.” Partheno sighed. “But my offer if always open. I’d be more than happy to spend the night pleasuring you beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Partheno! We should go now!” And before he could say anymore, Dui grabbed Partheno and steered him back into the mansion. Once the hall fell silent again, Karno turned to face you.

“I’m sorry, how rude of me to leave you standing out here.” He offered you his hand with a smile. “Please, come inside. It’s much warmer in there.” You took his outstretched hand, and he clasped it gently, lacing his fingers through yours as he began to walk you through the mansion. “I’m surprised you’re here so late.”

“Yeah, I was just asking a favour. Are Zyglavis or Leon here?”

“No, it’s pretty empty. There’s a bit of a problem right now. I’m sure you’ll find out about it soon enough.”

“Oh..” You wanted to dig further, but his tone told you you wouldn’t get anything from him anyway, even if you did ask. So you simply settled on your original question. “Then I guess you’re the next person to ask.” He looked towards you, curiosity clear on his face.

“And what might your question be?”

“I was wondering if I could sleep here tonight, on one of the sofas.” He froze for a moment, before shaking his head and continuing to walk.

“Why would you need to? Are you in trouble?” You laughed and shook your head.

“Nothing like that. You see I was asked to come and speak to Zyglavis tomorrow by Altair, but my boss wanted me to attend some meeting with him. He wasn’t particularly happy when I said no and I have no doubt he’ll try something to get me to attend with him. It wouldn’t be the first time he pulls a ridiculous stunt like that.”

“Is he really that bad?” He looked slightly shocked. “Can’t you raise it with your management?”

“Karno, the ‘boss’ I’m referring to is the CEO. I literally have no-one to go to.” He went silent for a moment.

“If you wish for it, I might be able to do something.”

“Unfortunately I think my wish would end up falling to the Punishments Department. Thanks all the same though.”

“If you insist.” He sighed. “But back to your original question, I don’t have a problem with you staying, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable letting you sleep on the sofa. You’ll be very out in the open.”

“Karno, you guys are gods! Why on Earth would I be in danger when you guys have goddesses falling all over each other to talk to you all.”

“Gods we may be, but we are still men. And when something special is defenceless it can be hard to resist. Although I don’t think anyone would truly lay a hand on you, I would much prefer in you used my bed for the night. I will be in the heavens so you don’t need to worry about me joining you, no matter what I might like to do.” You decided to ignore the end of his statement.

“Are you sure?”

“I insist, it’s the only way I’ll allowed it. Would you like to rest now? There aren’t many others here and those that are will be coming and going.”

“Well it is late, and I am tired, so I think I’ll take you up on that offer Karno.” He gave a small nod, leading you down the corridor towards the bedrooms before stopping in front of his own, opening the door and stepping to the side to allow you to pass, you turned back to face him and he smiled.

“I should be going now, but sleep well, ok?” He didn’t wait for a response, leaning forward he gave your forehead a small peck before he closed the door.

As asked, your sleep was deep and peaceful and you awoke to light leaking in through the window. In your foggy state it took you a little while to realise where you were, but it soon came back to you when you looked around the room. Pulling yourself from the bed you quickly moved to rummage through your bag for the shirt and underwear you had brought with you. Blinking the sleep from your eyes you noticed there was a sink in the corner of the room that wasn’t there before and you silently thanked Karno as you brushed your teeth and used the flannel to give yourself a quick wash. With a quick sweep of a brush your hair looked as it always did, and you decided you were presentable.

You emerged from Karno’s room as quietly as you could, but as always luck wasn’t on your side.

“Well hello little lady, fancy seeing you here.”

“…Hi Lou.”

“Karno? Not a bad choice, however I can almost guarantee that I can offer more in that department.” He walked forward, locking his eyes with yours and placing his hand lightly on your cheek. “Would you let me prove it?”

“Um…I’m not that kind of person.”  He held your gaze, expression not moving from the sultry smirk he had for a good thirty seconds before he laughed, patting your cheek. “I’m joking, Karno told us you were staying.” He looked past you to the door. “However, he didn’t say you were staying in his room. But Zyglavis will be down from the heavens any minute now, so you should probably head down.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Not a problem, little lady.”

Following his advice, you made your way to the lounge, finding it empty you sat yourself on the sofa. As Tauxolouve said, Zyglavis stepped into the room shortly after yourself. He looked mildly surprised to see you but composed himself fast.

“You’re already here, how punctual.”

“I try my hardest.” He appeared slightly awkward for a moment, and as you stood to face him he sighed.

“My apologies for this, but I don’t think dancing around this matter is going to help anything. I’m going to be honest with you, your life is in danger.” You couldn’t conceal your shock.

“What?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the current upheaval in the heavens. The reason the gods have not been as present on earth is because there has been a gradual yet disturbing increase in dark energy. We’ve come to find the reason for this is the revival of a being called The Dark King,”

“A name like that is never a good thing.”

“No, it isn’t. The Dark King has been the cause of deadly conflicts before and somehow he has been revived. His followers have somehow amassed enough power to bring him back but at this point he is still weak, which is where you come in. Your soul contains a huge amount of power, which although currently dormant can still be harnessed. We believe he will try to target you to obtain the power of your soul, and return himself to full strength.”

“…I’m assuming this would kill me.” He gave a solemn nod.

“Yes, the only way to use them would be to remove your soul from your body to awaken its dormant powers and absorb them, if he succeeded The Dark King would be as powerful as the King of the Heavens. We can’t let that happen, it would mean another war which would put every living thing at risk.” Noticing your quietness, Zyglavis apologised. “I’m sorry to be the one to reveal this to you, but don’t worry.” He stepped forward, resting a hand on your shoulder. “We won’t let The Dark King take you. The twelve of us have been tasked with protecting you.”

“I see, that’s comforting to hear.”

“I’m glad. One of us will remain at your side whenever possible, if we cannot for any reason be with you physically then I will send my shadows to watch over you, and your assigned guard will watch from the reflecting pool to monitor your safety.”

“Thank you Zyglavis.” You smiles softly at him. “Also thank you for telling me, I know it probably wasn’t something that was easy for you to do.” He looked slightly shy at your words.

“I was only doing as asked by the King.”

The next day you were back in your apartment, and as you opened the door to leave you nearly jumped out of your skin when Teorus popped out from behind the wall.

“Good morning Goldie!”

“Christ Teorus, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” He laughed at your frazzled exclamation.

“Well you did know one of us would be showing up!”

“Yeah, but I was expecting to be approached like a normal person!” He smiled and grabbed your wrist.

“Oh well, let’s get you to work, from what you’ve said your boss is scary and you don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah, you have a point.”

The walk to the Tres Spades was quiet, even now you had t exactly processed what you were told, I mean finding out your life is at risk isn’t something particularly easy to stomach. Before you even realised, you were stood outside the hotel where you snapped back to yourself.

“Oh, sorry Teorus, guess I spaced out. That was rude of me, but I really need to be going.” You apologised, but just before you slipped your wrist from his hand to enter the building he spoke.

“Goldie.” His voice had lost its playful edge. “ I know you’re scared. You don’t need to pretend, but just know that you look prettiest when you smile. So keep your head up, ok?”

“I’ll try, I guess.” Realising that was the best he was going to get, he dropped a kiss on the top of your hair.

“I’ll be back to pick you up when your shift is finished.” Before he walked away to no doubt teleport to the heavens.

Walking inside you were met with a character who honestly you didn’t have the energy to deal with right now, and the look on his face just screamed trouble for you. The corners of Ota’s lips were downturned and his brow was furrowed, it was easy to tell he was far from happy. You were about to give your normal greeting when he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to the side, covering the spot where Teorus’ hand had been.

“Koro. Who was that guy?” A sickly sweet tone left him and you couldn’t help but gulp.

“He’s just a friend, Ota.” The grip on your wrist tightened.

“Oh? Do you let all of your friends kiss you like that?”

“Ota! You make it sound like he made out with me or something, it was just an affectionate peck on the head!”

“I don’t care what it was.” His eyes narrowed. “You let another man kiss you, and this will be your last warning. You don’t get to find another master, Koro. You’ll be punished if you try to.”

He walked away, leaving you staring at his back for a while before you got your legs to move again.

As expected, Mr. Ichinomiya wasn’t particularly happy about you escaping his clutches for the previous weekend. He assigned you task after task as punishment for disobeying him and you were left exhausted, barely having the energy to manage the walk home with Teorus and the pattern continued like this over the next few days. One of the gods would escort you to and from work but apart from that things didn’t feel all too different normal. For a few days at least.

The Thursday of the following week you were waiting outside for Ichthys, but you could see Zyglavis’ shadows standing guard a few feet away. From under the canopy of the building you stepped towards the side of the road, itching to get home.

“What’re you waiting out here for?” Turning around, you came to see Mamoru making his way out of the hotel. You gave him a tired smile.

“Oh, a friend of mine is going to be walking home.”

“You got a lot of friends suddenly. They doing this for any reason?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look kid, if something’s wrong you cause more hassle for us when you keep quiet. Is something going on?” Before you could even think to respond, you saw his eyes widen, the cigarette fell from his mouth as he grabbed you harshly, holding you against his chest as he leapt out of the way of something. You met the concrete with a thud but that was soon overpowered by a horrendous shriek of metal against concrete before there was an explosive sound. Still a bit dazed, you looked up from your place beneath Mamoru, only for your eyes to meet the sight of a car crumpled again the next door building. Right where you had been standing. Your blood ran cold and you gulped as Mamoru pulled you to your feet. “Kid, don’t even think of lying to me right now. What’s. Going. On.” His tone was serious and as you struggled to find the words there was the sound of footsteps behind you.

“Are you ok?!” The familiar voice of Ichthys rang in your ears and you were pulled from Mamoru, being spun to face the clearly concerned god.

“I’m fine Ichthys, I’m fine.” Running his hands down your arms, he let out a small sigh of relief.

“I thought it was going to be too late.” He pulled you into his arms. “Thank heavens you’re safe.”

“And who the hell are you?” Mamoru’s brought you back to yourself. You jumped out of Ichthys’ arms like you’d had cold water thrown over you.

“I’m Ichthys!” Mamoru looked him up and down.

“Sounds like a stripper name.” You blanched at his words.

“Kishi! You can’t just say stuff like that to people!” His frown didn’t lessen.

“I think this asshole knows his name ain’t what I’m after. Who are you to her?” He jutted his chin in your direction. “And I ain’t gonna buy that you’re ‘just a friend’. I’m not stupid.”

“Ok, I’m her boyfriend!”

“Ichthys this isn’t the time for jokes!” You yelled, noticing the look of anger on Mamoru’s face.

“No, it isn’t.” All three of you turned to see Krioff approaching.

“Another one? Where are these assholes coming from?” You ignored Mamoru’s mutter.

“Circumstances have changed. I think we should go inside to talk about this.” He gave a pointed look to you and Mamoru. Huffing a sigh out when he looked at you, the cop motioned with his hand, taking the three of you back into the hotel.

When you reached the penthouse, the bidders automatically turned to look at the entrance and Eisuke scowled at the unknown people.

“Would you two care to explain why these men are in my penthouse without permission?”

“They’re here to explain what’s going on with the kid. Whether they want to or not.” Without knowing what to say you looked at the gods pleadingly, and Krioff gave a small shrug.

“It’s fine. The King has given permission for them to know. I’m just relaying a message.”

“King?” Soryu didn’t look impressed. “What kind of nonsense are you talking.”

“How much? How much do we need to tell them?” Your couldn’t help but admit you were slightly scared of how the bidders would react.

“All of it.” Noticing your discomfort he carried on. “Want me to tell them?” You could only nod, refusing to meet their eyes.

“Tell us what?” Eisuke seethed. “Unless you want a harsh punishment, you better start talking.”

“Hey, leave her alone.” Ichthys came to put a comforting arm around your shoulder. “She’s having a hard enough time right now without you guys being mean!”

“Your employee is a reincarnated goddess.” When Krioff said that, silence encased the room, sharp eyes fixing in on him. Honestly, what did you expect when you let Krioff speak for you other than blunt honesty?

“Do you honestly think we’re going to believe that?” Shuichi hissed. Krioff simply looked bored, like he was expecting that.

“Believe it or not, it’s the truth. She was a goddess in her previous life. Currently her life is in danger, and I’m here to take her, and all of you, to the heavens for better protection.”

“Wait, they’re coming too?”

“The King believes that if they are here on Earth the Dark King could use them as a means to draw you out. We would rather a few more humans know about us then risk the entire world.”

“This is like a plot ripped out of a kids book.” Ota muttered. “Try to be a bit more creative at least.”

“And don’t think we’ll be going anywhere with you, including my employee. Now leave my hotel, I’m already sick of looking at you two.” Krioff and Ichthys looked at each other.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we don’t need you to move to get you where we’re going.”

Before the bidders could speak, Krioff snapped his fingers and you felt that horrid lightheaded feeling and your vision went black, only to fade back into view with you all stood in the throne room. Appearing stunned beyond words, the bidders just stared as you gave a small bow the the King.

“Your Highness.”

“The former goddess, it has been a while since we last spoke.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to apologise. Circumstances haven’t lent us to free time recently. But for now we can communicate with ease. As I asked Krioff to tell you, you will be staying in the heavens for the time being. The Dark King’s power is continuing to grow at an alarming rate, we can’t risk him taking your soul.”

“What is this nonsense!” The yell of pure irritation drew your attention back to Eisuke. He looked far from impressed, if looks could kill the entire room would be dead. You simply looked towards your feet.

“It’s not nonsense Mr. Ichinomiya. I’m a reincarnated goddess.”

“You, a goddess?” Hikaru smirked. “Are you trying to make me laugh?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true!”

“That’s enough.” Eisuke spoke, grabbing you by the wrist. “We’re going back to the Tres Spades, where you can explain to me fully what lies these people have filled your head with.” As he made to leave the throne room with you in tow, the King of the Heavens snapped his fingers, freezing Eisuke where he stood. The billionaire looked shocked only for a moment, before anger you had never seen flared in his eyes.

“Eisuke Ichinomiya, none of you will be leaving the heavens for the foreseeable future. As I’m sure was explained to you by Krioff, going back to Earth right now puts both yourself and the world at risk. I do not care whether you believe in us or not, but you will do as I command. Everything, every part of your life is in my hands. You would do well to remember this while you are here.” Another snap later and he was free once more. Looking hesitantly over at him, the fury in his eyes was clear. Eisuke was used to winning, and not being top of the food chain clearly didn’t sit well with him.

“If we’re staying here, where exactly are we staying?” Baba queried.

“I will have the gods show you to your temporary rooms, Krioff please see that our former goddess is settled. I need to speak with her acquaintances.” With a gentle hand on your back, Krioff lead you from the room.

“Thank you for this Krioff. I know this is probably the last thing you all need.”

“This is about protecting the world.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t.” He turned to meet your eyes. “I’m saying that the world that has you in it is worth protecting.”

The rest of the walk to your room was in silence, and after a few questions about the room, Krioff left you in peace. You settled on the bed, holding one of the pillows to your chest and hugging it against you. You were scared, of both the Dark King and the bidders. Of course the threat of death was never to be taken lightly, but the reactions from the bidders caused a very different fear to bloom in your heart. You never planned to tell them of your origins, it’d taken you months to accept it yourself. Yet here they were, being faced with not only the reality of who you were, but also the entirety of the heavens on top of the fact that they could be in danger because of you. You feared they still wouldn’t believe you, that they would brand you a liar or accuse you of betraying them. You were scared they would abandon you.

A light knock at the door drew you from your thoughts, and you gave a small noise to allow the person to enter. Baba’s face appeared around the edge of the door, and he gave you a small smile.

“Hi princess, how are you feeling?” You sighed.

“About as well as expected considering everything.” He slipped around the door, closing it gently behind him and came to sit on the bed next to you, as he chuckled, you looked at him quizzically.

“I’m sorry, I just remembered how I often called you my goddess. I guess I wasn’t wrong, was I?” You joined his amusement with a grin before his smile dropped ever so slightly. “Say, how long have you known that you weren’t human?”

“I am human, Baba.”

“Princess, you know what I mean. How long have you known about this?” For a moment you considered whether you should lie or be honest, but deciding you’d had enough of being deceitful around it, you opted with telling the truth.

“I’ve known for about a year.” You didn’t miss the look of hurt that passed the thief’s face.

“…And you never thought to tell me?”

“Baba, would you have believed me If I had?”

“Perhaps for a while I would’ve thought you were joking, but I know you. You’re not a liar. After a few months…I think I would’ve. I’m sorry that you didn’t see me as trustworthy for your secret.”

“Oh Baba, it’s not like-“ he placed a finger over your lips.

“You didn’t think I would believe you. That in itself shows I haven’t proven myself to you yet.” He gave you another sad smile. “I’ll prove myself to you. It may take me years, a lifetime even. But I swear that I’ll show that you can share anything you need to with me.” Running the thumb from your lip over your cheek, he stood from the bed. “It’s getting late, and from what I’ve heard you’ve had a very long day. Sleep now princess, we don’t want your beauty marred by exhaustion.” Following his words of comfort, he quietly left the room. With the darkness feeling comfortable for the first time since this began, you fell into a guilt ridden sleep.

The next day you awoke feeling just as groggy, and without any particular thing to do you simply made yourself presentable and left your room, hoping to find anything to alleviate your stress and boredom. You headed out into the hallway, and the silence was unnerving to you. The normally bustling palace was so quiet it almost felt dead. So you were relieved when you saw Soryu emerge into the corridor.

“Good morning Soryu.” He nodded at you. “Is everything ok with your room?”

“Is there a point to your questions? If there is, just say so.” You looked away, taking a small gulp before working up the courage to say what you wanted to.

“I just…I just wanted to apologise for putting you through all this. For causing you all so many problems. I should’ve been more careful about being around you all-“

“Did you know this was going to happen?” You froze in shock.

“Of course not, how could you ask that?!”

“Then why are you sorry? You didn’t know this was going to happen just as we didn’t. There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this, don’t apologise for something you had no say in.”

“…Right. Thanks for that Soryu.” You went to walk away only to be stopped by a loud popping noise. Almost instinctually Soryu pulled the gun from his blazer and pulled you against his chest as he brandished the weapon in the direction of the noise.

“Show yourselves!” Laughter rung around the two of you, and despite looking you couldn’t find the source. With a final guess as to who was behind it, you looked upwards to see Ichthys hovering next to one of the pillars, waving down at you innocently.

“Ichthys, what have you done this time?”

“Nothing, nothing. That’ll just be Dui falling for my prank!” You couldn’t help but sigh.

“I’m not even going to ask…”

“Is this really the time for pranks?” Surprisingly, Soryu spoke up to the god above him. “You say yourself that her life is in danger, don’t you think you should be working like the other gods to trying and stop this and keep her safe?” At his words, Ichthys rolled his eyes.

“Maaaannn, you are just like Ziggles. You’re no fun! Especially at times like this you need a bit of life around the place or it just gets so boring!”

“ICHTHYS!” The familiar roar of the minister echoed through the halls. Following which the male in question quickly fled the corridor with nothing but a wave. You and Soryu were left in silence once again.

“Soryu…you can let go of me now.” You didn’t think you’d ever seen the mobster turn so red before.

“Am I interrupting something?” Looking towards the other end of the corridor, the click of the male’s heels against the tiled floor became louder as he approached.

“No Hue, there’s nothing to interrupt.”

“Is that so?” The blue haired god gave a closed eyed smile to Soryu. “It didn’t seem that way.” At the insinuating tone, Soryu clicked his tongue and walked back the way he came.

“Hue, you are mean.”

“Mean? I’m simply stating what I see. Besides, I actually came to ask you for assistance.”

“How can I help?” He held up the sheets of parchment in his hand.

“With my missing eye and the volume of work we’re all taking on right now, I’m running very low on energy, even with being in the heavens. Would you care to help me work by lending me your power?”

“Like I did on Earth? Sure, I don’t see a problem with that.”

After helping Huedhaut for the majority of the day, he bid you a farewell telling you that you’d helped him immensely. You weren’t particularly tired at this point but with Hue’s dismissing you no doubt to make sure you weren’t overworked you were left to once again wander the palace. Contemplating whether or not to take a walk in the gardens, you couldn’t stop the squeak of surprise that left you when you were thrust against the wall.

Looking up towards the face of your captor, Eisuke’s expression certainly erred in the side or irritation. The nerves that had slowly been ebbing away over the course of the day swelled back up and he pinned you to the wall with his arm.

“You kept a secret from me.” He was practically glowering, a mix of damaged pride and annoyance, no doubt it was your fault with the way he was looking at you.

“Mr. Ichinomiya, I-“

“There are only two answers you can give me. Or have you forgotten that?” You deflated.

“No sir, I haven’t.”

“And what are those answers?”

“Yes and ok…”

“Now let’s try this again, did you keep a secret from me?”

“…Yes.”

“There. It was a simple answer. I don’t care what you think is best for me, what you think is important for me to know or what you think I‘ll believe. You tell me everything, then it is up to me to draw my own conclusion. Do you understand?”

“…Yes sir.”

“When we get back to the Tres Spades, you are going to be-“ He didn’t even get to finish his sentence. The billionaire was torn from you body and you were looking at the back of the Punishments’ uniform before you could blink.

“Listen here.” Scorpio’s tone was low and threatening. “You don’t treat her like that while you’re here. If I see you making her uncomfortable one more damn time, then I will not hesitate to clean this floor with your face. Understand me, human?” Without a word of acknowledgement, Eisuke plucked the rough god’s hands from his lapels with his normal grace and elegance, dusting himself off as he looked over Scorpio’s shoulder to meet your gaze.

“This conversation isn’t done.” He spoke, before turning and leaving.

Once he was out of sight, Scorpio turned back towards you and fixed you with a glare.

“You can’t let a piece of shit like that walk all over you! Stand up for yourself woman! I protect you when I can, but I’m not always going to be there to stop it!” You didn’t even get a chance to thank him as he walked away before you could speak.

Trying to shake off the earlier events for the day, you decided to do as you were planning originally and headed out into the garden. In a rather expected turn of events, you found Aignorus napping on one of the benches. You sighed to yourself knowing he was probably slacking off on work again, so to try and help him in the long run, you approached him and gave him a light shake.

“Aigonorus…Aigo…you need to wake up now.” He groaned, moving slightly only to throw his arms around your waist and nuzzle into your side.

“I don’t want to. Just let me sleep, you’re comfy.”

“As comfortable as I am Aigo, Leon and Karno are probably looking for you.”

“That we are.” As if by some trick of fate that seemed to keep happening recently, Leon strolled into the gardens looking wholly unamused. “We may not have many wishes to be granting right now, however there is still enough work for you to be required.” The sleeping god simply groaned in response, for a moment Leon looked frustrated, until his eyes fell on you and a smirk overcame his features, walking up to your form that was caged in Aigonorous’ arms, he placed his fingers on your cheek, forcing you to let out a squeak as you felt his power surge through your body.

“Cut it out Leon!”

“Oh? You tell me to stop, and yet you look like you enjoy it so much. Think of this as my thanks for assisting my department today. Hard work should always be rewarded after all.” At this statement and the insinuation behind it, Aigonorous’ face screwed up in bother, sitting up he flung Leon’s hand from your body and stood up lethargically.

“Leave her alone. I’ll do the work if you do that.” You didn’t miss Leon’s look of triumph.

Once the two of them were gone, you decided you’d finally had enough for the day, and began to head back to your room. Your small prayer of getting there without interruption went unanswered however. The moment you set foot in the building you came face to face with Luke who looks bedraggled as usual. He came stumbling over, and automatically began groping your collarbones. You couldn’t help but sigh.

“Luke.”

“What is it Sexy?”

“We are in the heavens. There are gods around. Surely you can find someone else to do this to right now.” The Doctor almost looked offended, shaking his head.

“I’ve already looked. Even here, I can’t find a pair of collarbone as sexy as Sexy’s.” Just as he went to, what looked like press his face into them, a hand pulled you from him, a seemingly common occurrence today. Looking over your shoulder you found Hikaru.

“Sorry to interrupt Doctor Foster, but we need her right now. Urgently.” Ignoring his whine of dissatisfaction, Hikaru began leading you down the corridor back towards the bedrooms.

“Hikaru, did you do that just to get me away from Luke?”

“No actually. Rhion is refusing to open his door for food, you’re the only one that can get through to him when he gets like this.”

“So you need me to get a plate of food in there?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t eaten for a few days at least, he’ll collapse if he doesn’t get something in him soon.”

“Sure, I can do that at least.”

When you came to stop in front of Rhion’s door that was close to your own, you saw the plate of food on the floor next to it. But just before you knocked on the door Hikaru spoke again.

“By the way.” You turned to look at him. “The King explained everything to us. I’m still having a hard time believing it all, but I just wanted to tell you…you don’t need to worry so much. I know you do that by yourself a lot. Whatever is going to happen will happen, and it’s best you just try and relax. I’ll be here to help keep you safe. Now I better go, he’s less likely to reject that food if you’re here alone.” He spun on his heels and walked down the hall, but you swore you saw him blush.

With Hikaru now out of the way, you focused on the task at hand. Picking up the plate, you gave a few knocks to the door. Not receiving a response you decided to try calling for him.

“Rhion.” Your voice was soft as you spoke, knocking again for emphasis. “Rhion, it’s me.” For a few minutes there was still silence, and you thought that perhaps you would have to try something else. However, from inside the room you heard a quiet shuffling noise, indicating some sort of movement, before the door cracked open.

“Alice?” He didn’t open it all the way and you were greeted by his messy mop of hair and wide, dark eyes.

“Yup, it’s me. Is it ok if I come in?” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he opened the door just enough for you to slip inside. Once in the room you noticed that he had drawn the curtains to block out the light, and that he was cocooned in the blanket from the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“…I want to go home, Alice. This place is too bright. I don’t like it, I want to go back to the Tres Spades.” His words were so innocent, and he sounded so vulnerable that your heart clenched. Placing the plate of food down of the bedside table you lead him back to the bed, where you sat him down and wrapped your arms around him.

“Rhion, it’s going to be ok. We’ll go back to the Tres Spades. But we need to make sure the Dark King is taken care of before we do, otherwise you could end up getting hurt. That’s the last thing I want.” From within the blanket, his hand reached out and latched onto your sleeve.

“You’ll be here with me, right? You won’t abandon me here, will you?” With a slight shake of your head, you brought the hand he wasn’t limiting the movement to up to stroke his hair.

“No, I’m not going to abandon you. As long as you’re here, I will be too.”  At your words, his expression seemed to settle slightly. “Now, how about we have something to eat before we both rest, ok?”

“Ok.”

Your days carried on like this for weeks, filled with nothing but chaos, even more so than normal. The bidders and gods just couldn’t seem to get on and were constantly in competition. Your days were mainly spent breaking up fights, fetching missing gods and relaying messages. But with what followed you almost wish that unbridled chaos had carried on.

It was sudden, sudden enough that you weren’t really prepared for it. The explosion that rang out around the heavens was deafening, and the entire structure of the palace shook. Following the people you did see, you headed out of the palace into the fields, and you froze in place. On the horizon was the Dark King, and he seemed to find you in the crowd instantly. A disgusting smirk stretched across his face as he singled you out, pointing into the crowd to your exact location.

“Bring her to me.”

Those words were all it took for anarchy to ensue. The Dark King’s men charged at the crowd, some gods scattered, running to hide from the oncoming attack while others stood frozen or prepared to battle. You yourself turned to run, knowing that if they got you it could be the end of everything you cared for, but you found yourself surrounded before you could think to move. Desperately searching for a gap in their encirclement, you didn’t have room to react when one began to charge an energy attack in his hand. But luckily before he could release it, there was a sickening crack and scream of pain. Behind the man with a now broken arm stood Dui, looking extremely annoyed and face twisting into a sadistic smirk.

“Bad move. You’ll be paying for trying a stunt like that, you idiot.” With the immediate threat disabled, you stood from your crouched position and to force his to move, landing a punch right into the man’s nose. The crunch was unmistakeable and with Dui quickly pulling you from them he was quickly able to take care of them, soon handing you over to Partheno, the closest god, so that he could deal with more of the surrounding threats. That’s how the battle progressed, you were thrown from god to god, allowing each one time to destroy the men who came after you immediately without putting you in too much danger. From Partheno you went to Karno, from Karno to Teorus, Teorus to Scorpio, Scorpio to Huedhaut and then back to Scorpio before being handed to Ichthys.

The heavens were a mess by that point. There were deep gouges in the ground, scars of a battle that would take years to fade naturally, mighty structures were crumbling, fires consumed the surrounding nature, trees were torn from their roots, and bodies lay still where they fell, staining the floors with the blood of their sacrifice. A place of pure beauty now a spectacle of war. But there was one group that caught your attention. The bidders were being surrounded themselves, with only a few guns between them and no divine powers, they were sorely losing against the powers of the Dark King and his men. They didn’t have long and you knew it, when one of the attackers raised their arm, about to release an attack you knew they wouldn’t survive your body moved on autopilot.

“Guys!” With a yell of exertion you ripped yourself from Icthtys’ side, dodging attacks left and right only to throw yourself in front of the energy blast aimed at your friends. You expected to die, you expected to be nothing more than a willing sacrifice.

However, when the dark energy touched your skin, something inside you broke. From your body an unfamiliar light began to glow, and despite never having experienced it before, you seemed to already know exactly what it was and what to do with it.

“What the hell?!” You ignored the shocked mutters on the bidders and gods around you, focusing your anger on the being that had started this whole thing. The turmoil, your pain, the suffering was all down to the Dark King, he may have looked angry, but it couldn’t compare to the burning rage in your soul.

“No! This isn’t meant to happen! You can’t use your powers! I won’t let you stop me!” He raised his hand to try and attack once more, but you simply allowed your own powers to meet his, pushing it back inside his body.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not your choice. You’ve caused enough suffering, and I think it’s time you go back to where you belong, in oblivion.” The light around you grew to a blinding level, and the yells of the bidders and gods were lost to the drumming of your pulse in your ears, as you allowed your energy to completely consume your form, and the world around you.

The screams of the dark king faded with your power, and as the light dimmed  enough for those present to uncover their eyes, the surroundings were calm once more, restored to their previous state, as if the battle had never happened, even the fallen began to move again. Your heavy breath was all that was heard. That was until you collapsed. With their closer proximity to you, the bidders were first to your side, Luke crouching next to you and gently rolling you onto your back to examine you. His hands poked and prodded at your body, checking your pulse, breathing and for any sign of physically injury, of which none seemed to be an issue, he was murmuring to himself so quietly no-one could make out what he was saying, and they didn’t want to disturb his trance in examining you.

“You’ll find nothing wrong with her, physically that is.” The voice of the King cut through the group, and they all turned to look at him. Eisuke’s scowl depended at his words.

“What do you mean physically.”

“Her soul is what is causing this. She reawakened powers her body is not built to handle to save us all.”

“She’ll be ok though, right?” Baba’s inquisitive tone didn’t hide his concern.

“She can be, but you need to let us through. Now.” The bidders looked unhappy at the idea, but begrudgingly moved, wanting to be the ones to help you but knowing that at this moment it was beyond their power they begrudgingly stepped aside to allow the gods to take their place. The King of the Heavens moved first, motioning to the gods who circled around your form before raising his hand. The appendage began glowing a beautiful golden hue, seeming to understand what he was doing, the other gods followed suite, their hands glowing their signature colours.

“Come on.” Dui whispered, closing his eyes and focusing.

“Little lady, you’ve got to fight.”

“Don’t give up on us now.”

The words of encouragement were by no means loud, but they didn’t need to be. The determination to keep you alive could almost be tasted, a burning feeling that physically would not allow them to stop until they succeeded. The bidders watched on from the sideline, all anxiously awaiting some shift in the atmosphere, the tension of not knowing gnawing at them. They didn’t have to wait to much longer. The cocoon of coloured energy around your body brightened suddenly, almost pulsing, before it slowly seemed to sink into your skin. The moment felt frozen, until a slight sigh of a breath escaped you, and the gods followed suit.

The King knelt down, taking your fragile form in his arms and standing again, raking his eyes over your form, looking for any signs of trouble.

“We’ve done all we can.” He spoke, turning to the rest of the gods. “The rest is up to her. This is no longer something we can affect.”

As he went to make his way back into the palace, he was forced to halt as Eisuke stepped into his path with his arms crossed.

“And where are you taking my employee?” The King looked him up and down before giving an amused smile.

“Back to the palace. She needs to rest.”

“She will do that at the Tres Spades.”

“She will do no such thing.” Zyglavis stepped forward, a deep furrow in his brow. “Her soul is still unstable, she is still in danger of losing her life. By remaining here until she wakes up we will be close by if something goes wrong. Those few moments could make all the difference.”

“Then I’ll be staying here.” The other bidders nodded in agreement.

“Staying?” Leon looked offended at the mere mention of the word. “You will be going back to Earth, where you goldfish belong. You have no need to stay now the Dark King is gone.” Baba stepped between the two seething men.

“He just means that taking her away from both her job and life could be questioned, and we would like to be nearby when she wakes up.” Leon simply glared.

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“I’m not asking.” Eisuke returned the expression, standing full height in front of the King. But to the surprise of everyone present, the royal simply started laughing.

“Eisuke Ichinomiya, I commend your bravery! No god, let alone human is brave enough to challenge me besides a select few. Very well, you’ve entertained me enough. I shall allow you to stay in the heavens until she wakes.”

“Your Highness-!

“No matter your opinion of them, these men have clearly proven their care for our goddess. I’m sure that if she wakes, she would like for them to be near as well. Can you deny this?” And uncomfortable silence fell over the gods. “I didn’t think so. You may continue using your assigned rooms for the time being. We don’t know if she will awaken, or if she does how long it will take. You must be prepared for any result.”

“She’ll make it.” Soryu spoke. “She’s strong enough to, for a woman.”

“Be that as it may, stress, pain or any negative emotion or injury can affect whether or not a soul heals.” He looked back down at your body. “Let us hope she can overcome this.”

You were placed back into your room after that. Tucked under the covers those close to you could almost pretend you were simply sleeping, but reality began to sink in as day after day passed. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to a month yet you still showed no sign of stirring, yet even now you were rarely alone. Every spare moment that was had by someone was spent at your bedside. Some speaking with you as if you were still awake, the others simply watching your form, thinking back over your shared times and contemplating whether they could cope in a world without you. Their answer was quickly found.

Perhaps that was the reason that they still refused to give up hope. The thought of you no longer being in their lives was something many of them had yet to consider, but this situation placed them face to face with the reality of losing you, and that was not something they were ready to face just yet. The gods may grant the wishes of humans, but what if the gods’ wishes were the same as the humans? Could they grant a wish to save a soul they too wished to stay alive? Wishes of life and death were not something within the powers of the twelve gods, which meant all they could do is pray themselves, hoping that there were indeed some entity out there who heard the wishes of the gods. Perhaps, that love and longing for having you back in their lives was enough to influence whatever powers controlled what the gods could not.

It had started as any other day. The somber state of the palace had not diminished, even with it being Christmas Day on Earth.

“Look at them.” Scorpio had hissed as he looked into the reflection pool that day. “Completely oblivious to what has been done for them.”

To add to the frustration, with it being Christmas. The gods were buried under seasonal wishes and punishments, and even the bidders had needed to go back to Earth, with corporate parties, mafia get togethers, art exhibitions and lax security, every bidder had something they required leaving the heavens to do. No-one was around to hear the yell of surprise let out by Altair, or the crash of the ceramic dish on the floor he had brought in to help clean your face. But the small god ignored the water pooling around his feet, he could only focus on you. You, who were sat up in bed, completely conscious.

His cry brought your attention to him, and you sluggishly pulled yourself from the bed on unsteady feet. Holding the frame to support yourself after a month of inactivity.

“Altair…what…what happened?” You didn’t receive an answer as the small boy threw himself and you, hugging your waist as he cried, you could only pick out the odd word but were somehow able to piece together that he was excited about you being awake. Realising you probably weren’t going to get a straight answer out of him anytime soon, you knelt down slightly so he could hold you in a more comfortable position. “Should we go and see the King?” He just nodded against your stomach.

When you entered the throne room, the King looked mildly shocked before you approached him.

“My, my. How very interesting.”

“Your Highness, I’ll go and tell the others right away!” However the King raised his hand to stop Altair in his tracks.

“No, don’t tell them yet.” He smirked. “I have a far more entertaining idea. Bring me those ‘bidders’.”

The gods were all groaning by the time they were summoned by the King. Everyone was tired, it was late, and the obvious issue of your state meant none of them were particularly excited to be called like this. With a sigh of resignation, Zyglavis and Leon opened the doors to the throne room. Zyglavis bowed upon entry and Leon simply strutted in as normal.

“At Your Highness’ request.” Zyglavis spoke as the gods all made their way into the room. Most of them already looking as if they wanted to leave. He could only smile, knowing the reaction that his news would bring.

“Now, why do my dear gods look so glum? Today is Christmas, a day of giving, joy and love.”

“We already fucking know that. Can we just get on with it.”

“Scorpio, watch your tongue.”

“Zyg, he already knows what I’m like. No point in hiding it now.”

“As much as I enjoy watching your quarrels.” The King interjected. I do have some news that might be of interest to all of you, and with it being Christmas, I won’t hold it from you. Come out now.”

They looked mildly interested at his call to someone they were yet to see, but the moment you came into view, their jaws all dropped. No longer were you unresponsive, your bright smile was back on your face as you stepped out from behind the throne, and the gods had never felt such relief as in that moment. A unanimous cry of your name filled the room, and to avoid them getting embarrassed and to greet your friends after learning what had happened from the King, you ran towards to group, hugging each god in turn.

“Does this perhaps make you all feel a bit more jolly?” The King joked. He was met with stares, head shaking and the odd blush, but he was far from done. “But you see, it appears a Christmas miracle has happened. You appear to not have noticed that our little goddess does in fact now live up to her title.”

The god closest to you glanced down, only to inhale sharply in shock when he saw the bright stars shining in your eyes.

“That’s impossible…”

“Not impossible.” The King corrected. “But highly improbable. A human turning back into a god once releasing their abilities has a probability of less than 0.001%. A completely negligible figure, and it was a feat that I have never witnessed. However it appears that through sheer determination and willpower, our goddess has managed to resume her rightful place.” He allowed them a moment to let the information sink in, but he was personally looking forward to the next reveal most of all. Clapping his hands to draw attention back to himself.

“Now, as the universe granted you all your Christmas miracle. I decided to grant the goddess’ wish. I would hardly think it fair to force her away from everyone she knows and loves because she wanted to save her world, would you? So, after discussing their options with me, I would like to introduce you all to our newest department. The Department of Judgement.”

“The what now?” Leon frowned, and all of the gods couldn’t stop their eyes widening in shock when they saw who else emerged into their line of sight.

“Why are they here?” Huedhaut asked, a closed eyes smile not hiding his irritation.

“I would suggest you watch your tone.” Eisuke smirked, glaring down his nose at the gods. It was then the divine beings took in what they were wearing. Crisp white uniforms with gold trimmings, boots, and a deeply coloured armband that could been seen as either blue of purple. It was then that dread settled in their stomachs.

“You didn’t. These humans-“

“They are human no longer.” The King confirmed their greatest fears. “This is the Department of Judgements. I will be personally helping them master their powers. They will be working closely with you both of your departments, they will collect and interpret trends in various human fields and judge whether or not intervention is needed, working either on their own or collaboratively with your two departments. They will also be the heavens’ ‘human specialists’, they will be the first to be contacted if there are questions around human customs and activities.” He began motioning to the various people. “Eisuke will be their minister, and take care of businesses and corporations, Soryu will be vice-minister and handle underground organisations and criminal empires, Baba will be focusing on love and relationships, Ota on the arts, Mamoru on the various police forces, Shuichi on politics, Luke on medication, health services and epidemics and Hikaru on technology. Rhion, Samejima and Inui will work as extra hands in the department at the request of Eisuke and Soryu.” He wasn’t able to hide the smirk at the looks on the gods faces. “For the time being they will also live their human lives, until the point they would naturally pass away to avoid an interruptions, considering their positions in the human world, but after that they shall live solely in the heavens, alongside all of you. Treat them well, for our goddess will be working for all three departments, a week at a time, until she herself chooses one to work for.”

Eisuke smirked, eyes challenging as he glared at the other gods.

“I think it’s obvious who she’s going to end up choosing.” Leon all but snarled in response.

“I think not, new boy.”

“Now. I think she would fare quite well in our department.”

The King could only chuckle at the chaos that was beginning to unfold as each department grew more rambunctious. He could only applaud himself for a job well done, for all Christmas wishes were granted among this group. Even his own, he had a feeling the next year was going to be much more entertaining.  

Right, apologies this took so long to post, everything kept screwing up and I didn’t realise the entry date so this is far more rushed than I would’ve liked. I didn’t even get a chance to proofread! 

#fanficgiveaway #fanfic #fanficsubmissions #kbtbb #scm

[berjhawn]

Our Little Miracle - One Shot

Request: Amazing job with the angst! Such a good plot, and I cried a lot. OK so now I would love to request a happy Natxfem reader story. I've always loved your writing style and I would love to see how you write this situation. Nat and the reader are married, and the reader is pregnant, expecting the baby anytime. Nat is crazy prepared and excited but when the reader does go into labor Natasha kind of panics and forgets everything she planned. I hope you have time for this, seriously no rush! ❤ ya!

Words: 1986

Warnings: Labor, labor pains, etc

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff X Female Reader

A/N I really hope you enjoy this. I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you don’t mind i added a few more things @faith2nyc i really hope you like it and i am so sorry it took me so long to get to your request. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Baby blanket?” You ask staring at your list of things you would need when your little bundle of joy would arrive.

“Check,” Your wife Natasha replies as she slides the baby blanket into the suitcase.

“Uh, change of clothes for me and you?” You ask, and she nods searching the suitcase to double check. You feel your baby kick and you smile as you reach out to gently touch your stomach your hand bobbing up and down at each and every kick. “He’s really active today.” You say making Natasha’s face light up.

“He’s getting tired of being cooped up.” Natasha adds as she reaches out to feel the kick with you.

“At least he’s kicking my stomach and not my bladder.” You add causing the both of you to recall when you were at Avengers tower in an important meeting and your little bundle of sunshine decided to kick you just right making you pee down your legs. Your face turned red at the memory. Natasha bites her lips to keep from laughing and you narrow your eyes at her.

“What? it was funny.” She answers making you roll your eyes.

“Maybe it was for you. You weren’t the one who was in the middle of her briefing when sir kicks-a-lot decided you should piss yourself.” You add reaching up to rub your forehead.

“That’s true.” She answers reaching out to take your hand in hers. “I’m sorry I laughed.”

“You’re forgiven.” You reply gripping her hand as a slight wave of pain flows through your body making you slightly uncomfortable. It must have shown on your face cause Natasha’s eyes instantly widen.

“Are you okay?! Is it time?!” She asks worry and excitement feeling her eyes.

“I’m okay, just a little uncomfortable, and a little hungry. Do you mind going down the street to get me something from that little bakery? I would kill for a cannoli.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll get Barnes to sit with you while I’m gone.” She replies reaching into her pocket to pull out her cell phone.

“You do realize I am capable of being by myself, right?”

“I know Hun, but It’ll make me feel better if you aren’t. Especially being this close to go time.” Natasha argues, and you give in.

“Alright. Give him a call.” You concede reaching back to push yourself off the couch.

“What are you doing?” She questions making you roll your eyes.

“Natasha, I love you; but can I just go to the bathroom by myself. Please?”

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

“Thanks,” You reply letting out a heavy sigh. You were so ready for this all to be over with. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy that you were pregnant. You were ecstatic; but you could only take so much. As you walk down the hallway you hear Natasha call out that Bucky was on his way down and you wave in acknowledgement. Reaching the bathroom, you close the door and let out a heavy sigh. This fucking watermelon you were carrying around was really starting to get on your nerves. You missed your old figure. You missed being able to see your feet. Even sleeping was a bitch. All that meant nothing though when you saw the excitement and happiness in Natasha’s eyes.

The two of you had met through work and after a push from your coworkers you had given in and started dating her. A few months of heaven later and you were in a wedding dress standing at the alter with Natasha next to you her bright smile chasing away all your fears. Soon after the two of you were married you had talked about adding onto your family. That was when you learned that Natasha could never have any children of her own. Seeing the pain in her eyes you had offered to carry the baby.

Of course, there was the problem of who was going to be the sperm donor. After months of searching throughout all the sperm banks and fertility clinics you just couldn’t stand the thought of putting some strangers seed inside you. The thought alone gave you the creeps. After a night of heavy drinking your best friend, had offered his own in place of some strangers. At first you weren’t so sure. You were worried about how Natasha and the rest of your friends would react but after sitting down with him and her they had come to an agreement.

He would give his sperm so that you and Natasha could start your family on one condition, he was able to stay nearby and be an uncle and godfather to the baby. Natasha must have been too excited at the thought of finally being able to have a big family that she agreed without question. So, after a few more months of grueling treatment you were pregnant and well on your way to having a happy and healthy baby. Whatever appointments Natasha couldn’t make, due to her work, Bucky would fill in for her and record he whole thing so that she wouldn’t miss anything.

Now here you were, your due date only a day or two away and you were ready for it to be over. You loved Natasha, but her hovering and constant worry was driving you insane. She was constantly on you for what you could and couldn’t do. It was like living with your parents all over again. After taking care of your business you flush the toilet and moving over to the sink wash your hands before a knock on the bathroom door causes you to jolt in shock.

“Buck?” You ask as you try to calm your racing heart.

“Yeah, you okay?” He replies, and you let out a heavy sigh before drying your hands and opening the door.

“I was before you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, I thought it’d be better than just appearing out of nowhere.”

“You’re probably right.” You reply as your best friend holds his hand out to you.

“Would you like a little help?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Thank you, but I got this.” You reply as you gently touch his arm before walking past him into the living room as another wave of pain hits you, causing you to double over as you clench your stomach. “Son of a bitch!”

“You okay?” He asks arms instantly reaching out to you.

“Yeah, just a little bit of pain.” You answer breathlessly. “Can you help me to the couch? I really wanna put my feet up.”

“Sure doll,” He replies, and you roll your eyes at the nickname. Bucky gently wraps his metal arm around your waist and uses it to lift you slightly off your feet, so he can lead you back to the couch. Reaching it he slowly lowers you into your spot. “You want something to drink?”

“I’d love a drink. Can you bring me a bottle of water from the fridge?” You ask, and he nods instantly heading off to the kitchen. Pulling your phone up you decide that maybe you ought to start timing these pains. It was early, but babies had been known to come a few days early. As the next one hits and passes you instantly turn on the timer. “Okay little man, if you’re ready to make an entrance, let mommy know okay?”

“You sure you okay?” Bucky asks as he sits down beside you and twists the cap of your water bottle off before handing it to you.

“Yeah, just think I might be going into labor.” You answer nonchalantly making his eyes widen.

“What?!” He exclaims making you smile.

“Don’t get too excited, the contractions are nowhere near where they need to be.”

“Where do they need to be?”

“Uh, about every two to four minutes. Then I could go at any time. So, my wife better get here with my cannoli. Cause labor can take hours and if I don’t get any food in me I will start killing people.” You add, and he chuckles.

“I can see that happening. I’ll call her, you keep timing them.”

“I got it.” You reply as he leaves the room to call Natasha. While he’s gone you quietly sip at your water as you continue to time your contractions. They suddenly start to get faster and your body instantly starts to fill with both worry and excitement. That is until your water breaks. “JAMES!” You yell out making him run into the room. “Where’s Nat, my water broke!” As if to answer your question Natasha bursts through the door a bag which held your cannoli in her hand her eyes wide and breathing rushed. “Babe, it’s time.”

“What are you waiting for Natasha? Help me get her to the car!” Bucky says pulling Natasha out of her head. She instantly rushes over to your side and grabbing your arm helps support you.

“You know, I’m kind of having second thoughts about all this now.” You say as a contraction hits you just right making you stop in your tracks and buckle your knees.

“It’s okay, remember your Lamaze.” Natasha says, and you groan in annoyance.

“This might be a bad time to tell you that I didn’t go to that huh,” You say making her face turn red.

“And why the hell not?” Natasha asks helping you stand back upright.

“I don’t like strangers, you know that. Especially not ones who think they know better than I do.” You reply making her glare at Bucky. “Don’t get pissy with him, it was my decision.”

“Can we just talk about this later. Let’s get you to the hospital.” Natasha adds, and you nod.

They quickly rush you out of the apartment, into the car, and to the hospital. After eight hours of intense labor, to which you were unable to have an epidural, your little bundle of joy came into the world kicking and screaming. They take him from you to momentarily to do some tests and clean him up before they hand him to Natasha. You smile brightly as she showers your child with the affection she had never had when she was a child. “You did good.” Bucky says gently smoothing the hair from your face.

“Thanks Buck,” You reply tears of happiness and exhaustion falling down your cheeks.

“Let’s get momma and baby settled into their room. Do the two of you have any clothes you’ like to put him in?” The nurse asks, and you nod. You look around for the suitcase and upon not seeing it you let out a hearty laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Natasha asks, and you shake your head.

“Hunny, I think you got so excited you left the bag at home.” You answer making her face turn red with embarrassment. “This is too funny.”

“It was an accident okay. I was a little preoccupied.” She replies motioning to you and the baby. “Why didn’t James grab it?”

“Hey, don’t push this off on me. I was already freaking out enough.” You smile as the two of them try to blame the other. Natasha hands you the baby as the Doctor kicks the two of them out of the room.

Smiling down at your newborn baby boy you say, “Hey little man, you know, you’ve got the best family in the world. Your mommy Natasha is the greatest woman in the world. She’ll love you unconditionally for all your life. No matter what you do she will always be in your corner. Your uncle Buck, he’s a little crazy but I have no doubt that he’ll be there for you no matter what.” You gently kiss his forehead before adding, “And me, I’ll never let you go a day without telling you how much you mean to me. I love you, Cayde. You’re our little miracle.”

#natasha romanoff #berjhawn writes #berjhawn #Natalia Romanova #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanov #Natasha Romanoff fanficfion #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Regrets 10

A/n: no warnings 

Link to Chapter 9

Words: 2, 027

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader 

____

(A few months later...)

You woke up with a groan. Attempting to stretch you looked down at your still pregnant stomach.

“Yep, still pregnant.”

You mumbled before sitting up. Looking over to Gabriel's side of the bed you couldn't help but sighing. Whether you wanted to admit it or not your relationship was Gabriel was suffering! You were convinced that he would bail on you after the baby was born if it wasn't his. He was being too good of a man to say it but you could see the betrayal in his golden eyes. Gabriel had spent a lot of the time telling you that everything that had happened wasn't your fault and he didn't blame you for it. Did you believe him, no! After he would say that Gabriel would look away with hurt eyes.  

The physical aspect of your relationship was still hot as ever! Gabriel couldn't keep his hands off of you! Anytime that you wanted him,  he would drop whatever he was doing for you. Many of times leaving Cas looking after you two awkwardly.

Getting out of bed, you slowly pulled on a long sundress and examined your reflection. You weren't big by any means. The baby moved against your hand as you stroked your tummy. You couldn't help but smiling. Even though there was a good chance that the baby was Loki's you were still in love with the child to be. Maybe you could convince yourself that the baby was Gabriel's? Maybe everything would be okay after all?

Meanwhile,

Gabriel stood looking over some notes that Sam had made about tracking down Loki.

“I hope you are right, Samshine. I don't like being away from her right now.”

Dean frowned.

“Do you want the creep dead before the kid gets here or not?”

“Shut up, Dean.”

Gabriel snapped. Dean shrugged. He wanted to tell Gabriel that he liked him batter as a goofy trickster however, he understood why Gabriel wasn't cheerful and happy. Living with the knowledge that your girl was knocked up with another man's kid had to be rough. One thing Dean had to respect Gabriel for is the fact that he was going to raise  the kid regardless.  

“Gabe, we'll get it taken care of.”

Dean replied calmly. Gabriel looked up.

“Oh yeah! I'm going to make him suffer more than he needs to.”

“Y/n is coming. Stop.”

Cas replied. Gabriel turned as you approached.

“Hey sugar, how are you feeling?”

You smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I'm fine. Are you still leaving this morning?”

Gabriel nodded sadly.

“Yeah, we got some information.”

You looked down. Asking Gabriel to stay home with you would be selfish. You knew that he wanted nothing more than to kill Loki and make him suffer for everything.

“I'll be back before you know it so you can have your way with me as much as you want.”

You couldn't help but laughing at that.

“I read in a baby book that sex can make induce labor.”

Gabriel blinked a few times ignoring the grossed out expression on Dean and Cas' faces.  

“Well when I get home we are doing it.”

You stood on your tiptoes pressing a soft kiss to the archangel's lips. He leaned his forehead against yours with a sigh.

“I don't want you to worry.”

You closed your eyes fighting any urge you had to have an emotional breakdown. Gabriel didn't need your emotions. He didn't need to be worrying about you when he was going after Loki. If you were in the back of Gabriel's mind pestering him, he could get hurt.

“Everything will be fine.”

You whispered hoping that Gabriel believed you. Gabriel's hands gently locked on the sides of your face.

“Loki just hopes that he can get rid of me. You know how annoying I can be. I'm not going anywhere.”

Dean snorted.

“He's right, Y/n. We've been trying to get rid of him for years. Looks like we won't ever get rid of him now.”

Gabriel smirked.

“See what I mean?”

The following week passed relatively slow. You have heard from Gabriel a few times but nothing like you wanted.

“Sit down, would you?”

Rowena asked looking up from her spell book. Your mother had been getting cross with your less than cheerful nature.

“You are moody.”

She said. You stopped your pacing and turned to look at her with a perplexed expression.

“Well I am sorry, your highness! I just have a lot on me right now!”

Rowena blinked.

“We all have a lot on us, my dear.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Lets see here, I think I win! I'm pregnant with a trickster or archangel's baby. Who the father is, I have no clue! Gabriel is out after Loki and I don't know what is about to happen to us!”

Rowena sighed.

“You and the baby will be just fine! I am not going to let anything happen to either of you. If the trickster and archangel die, we will be just fine.”

“Shut up, mother!”

You growled. Turning and walking to the window trying to breath, a pain in your lower back that had been going on and off all day began to get worse. Rowena stood back up the moment you bent over.

“Y/n?”

You held up a hand.

“Nothing. Just....oh fuck.”

Rowena raced over.

“You're in labor! Bloody hell! Get that archangel here!”

A few hours later...

Gabriel sat beside Cas watching Sleipnir talk with a couple of his guards.

“It would be so easy to take him out right now.”

Gabriel stated. Cas turned looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Gabriel, you need to go with the plan.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes,

“Cas, I don't know if you know me or not but I am not a go with the plan kind of guy.”

Cas was quiet for a few moments. He wasn't about to agree with his brother. Gabriel was never a go with the plan kind of guy. From the early days in heaven, Gabriel did what he wanted.

“Gabriel, go with the plan for Y/n and your child.”

Gabriel expression softened a bit before turning dark.

“The kid will be here soon.”

Cas nodded.

“It will be. Are you prepared for the outcome?”

Gabriel laughed bitterly.

“How am I a supposed to be ready for that outcome? I keep trying to barging with myself and nothing is working. For Y/n, I am trying not to be some bitter asshole. I know we talked about this before but it ISN'T WORKING CASTIEL!”

Cas jumped when Gabriel yelled the last part. Gabriel quickly looked ahead trying to control his trembling.

“I can't tell you how to feel and if I could I wouldn't.”

Gabriel nodded before running a hand through his hair.

“I know you wouldn't. I guess we will just have to see how it goes.”

The phone ringing pulled the two from their conversation. Cas took the cellphone out of his pocket before muttering a quick hello. Gabriel didn't pay much attention until he heard the urgency in Cas' voice.

“What are you talking about? We haven't heard anything! We'll be right there!”

Gabriel turned looking at him with a frown.

“What was that....”

“Y/n had the baby?”

Gabriel's mouth dropped.

“Why are fucking sitting here? Better yet why are just now hearing about this? Y/n, didn't get a hold of me?!”

Cas held a hand up knowing that telling Gabriel to calm down would work about as well as telling Dean not to stab someone without having coffee.

“Sam has a theory....it was the child.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Fucking damn it! It is Loki's and is already causing me grief!”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“Lets just get to her.”

Meanwhile,

You sat in the bed looking down at your baby girl with a smile. From all of the bad that had occurred during the past few months this was the shinning moment. Her sweet face was the most beautiful thing that you had ever seen. Her golden eyes shinned up at you instantly capturing your heart.

“She's darling!”

Rowena said with a smile. Your mother's face had an expression that you had never seen before. She looked completely at peace and there wasn't a trace of the cold witch there.

“Thank Mom...for everything. If you wasn't here...I would have never been able to do this.”

You were completely honest about that too! If it was for Rowena, delivering the baby you wouldn't have known what to do! Gabriel didn't come when you practically shouted at him and neither did Cas. Of course, Gabriel would have been useless but it would have been nice to have your child's father there.  

“You did all of the work. We make a good team. If this whole mess with Gabriel and the Winchesters don't work out, we could make it just fine.”

You eyes darkened as you looked up at Rowena.

“Why wouldn't it work out?”

Rowena shrugged.

“I am worried that once he find out that the child's father is Loki, Gabriel will live up to his reputation. Its a valid concern, love.”

You pressed your lips together.

“He'll prove us wrong. I know he will.”

Rowena sighed. She didn't have the heart to tell you that she didn't have the least bit of faith in the archangel. Sure, he was good roll in the sack but as a father and protector....eh.

“Well it doesn't hurt to have a plan.”

Before you could respond, Gabriel and Cas appeared in the room. Rowena looked up at Gabriel with an annoyed expression

“Just a wee bit late!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes before saying “out”. He snapped his fingers making Rowena vanish from the room. He looked back to you with a sympathetic expression.

“Sugar, you didn't call.”

You nodded wildly.

“I was praying to you like mad....cursing your name there toward the end.”

Gabriel smirked.

“Glad that I didn't hear that.”

He quickly walked over and was mentally preparing himself for looking at Loki's child in your arms.

“She's perfect, Gabriel.”

Gabriel smiled.

“A girl...we are in for it.”

He slowly reached down taking the baby into his arms. You watched him hoping for some kind of miracle as Cas wondered over. Gabriel's expression was unreadable as he looked down at the baby.

The moment the baby's eyes opened and shinned bright gold; both Gabriel and Cas' mouth dropped.

“She's mine.”

Gabriel managed to get out. You looked as shocked as Gabriel did! All of the months of inner turmoil was thankfully wasted! Loki had no claim in your life whatsoever now!

Gabriel sat down beside you not letting go of his daughter. He wasn't able to say a word as he memorized every feature on her little face. It was you that spoke first.

“But how is that possible? Cas, I thought that I would die.”

Cas, looking totally confused, looked up.

“I don't....I don't know how to explain. There are just too many anomalies to list....”

Gabriel looked up finally.

“It doesn't matter. Everything is fine now.”

Cas pressed his lips together knowing that everything in fact wasn't fine. Loki would still come after the child. There would be no way that the trickster would believe that child wasn't his. He wouldn't believe it until he was dead. There was also the fact of what would happen when the other angels and archangel's found out.

For now, however, Cas couldn't bring those subjects up. He would let the two of you enjoy your one moment of peace. You both deserved that! Cas would tell Gabriel, Sam and Dean at the same time and they would come to some sort of conclusion and deal with the problem.

______

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