A Battle of Fates - Y/n is just a regular girl whose dreams are haunted by the devil each night. When these dreams become a reality and she is forced to face her intertwined fate with Lucifer, her world is turned upside down. She is forcefully given the gift of grace and must learn to live with her new found powers with the help of two hunters and their angel. Will she choose to give into her destiny of loving the devil, or will she choose her own fate with a certain Winchester brother? - 💫 💕 ❤️🩹 ❤️🔥
Sabotage - After one too many failed dates, Y/N finds out the real reason Gabriel has sabotaged her love life. - ✨ 💕 ❤️🔥
Baldurs Gate 3
Always and Forever - Having known Astarion long before he was turned, an unexpected reunion with the man you once loved stirs up a whirlwind of emotions. - ✨❤️🩹💕
Arcane
Dorm Rules - Jayce and Viktor are assigned college roommates. Jayce falls deeper and deeper into perversion and obsession. - ✨❤️🔥💕
Jayce thought the hardest part of university would be the academics, maybe making new friends in such a big school, or if the dining hall would have anything that tastes remotely close to his mothers cooking.
He was wrong. The biggest challenge, by far, is his new roommate. It’s not that he dislikes his roommate. He hasn’t given him any reason to. He isn’t loud or messy or confrontational. He’s just distracting.
Or
Jayce and Viktor are assigned college roommates and he progressively falls into deeper perversion and obsession
5.4k words (smut/fluff)
Jayce thought the hardest part of university would be the academics, maybe making new friends in such a big school, or if the dining hall would have anything that tastes remotely close to his mothers cooking.
He was wrong. The biggest challenge, by far, is his new roommate. It’s not that he dislikes his roommate. He hasn’t given him any reason to. He isn’t loud or messy or confrontational. He’s just distracting.
Maybe it’s his thick accent or his pale skin speckled with moles or the brown locks that he curls around his finger when he’s lost in his studies. Whatever it is, Jayce can’t get him out of his head and it certainly doesn’t help that they spend hours confined to their small room, no walls or curtains to separate them. Just a cluttered dorm room that’s barely big enough to fit two beds, a desk, and wardrobe on each side.
Every inch of Viktor's wall is covered in blueprints scrawled in his messy hand writing, posters of grunge bands from Zaun that Jayce has never even heard of, or photos from home that give him a glimpse of what life was like growing up in Zaun.
Jayce finds himself drawn to one polaroid photo in particular, Viktor with his arm around a girl around his age, tan skin, hair made of tight curls, and gold framed glasses. He can’t count on his hands how many times he had stared at this photo and wondered who this woman is and why they’re so close. He wonders if she is Viktor’s girlfriend back home. He imagines him running his long slender fingers through her black curls, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone, pressing his thumb down on her plump lip.
The thought alone makes something in his chest twist up, something nasty and suffocating that he had never felt before coming to college. Before he met Viktor. Before the fixation.
The fixation starts off normal and so do the excuses. Laying in his roommates bed because it's comfier, certainly not because it smells like him. Stealing his sweatshirt to wear when Viktor’s in class, because the fabric feels softer on his skin. Turning on his side at night to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps because he just finds his presence soothing like counting sheep.
The more his mind wanders and fixation grows, the harder it becomes to deny. They hardly even talk, but here he is imagining what sounds Viktor would make if Jayce was pounding him into the mattress, fingers digging so hard into his bony hips they’d leave bruises for days. Would he whine and squirm or would he choke on deep desperate moans punched out of him?
Jayce’s cock stirs at the thoughts swirling in his head, his jeans feeling increasingly uncomfortable, a problem that’s become increasingly more common over the first few weeks of the semester. He palms himself through the thick fabric, as if that would help his not so little problem go away but the deep feeling in his core protests.
He sighs and looks up at the clock, the hands sitting at the 4:15 mark. He memorized Viktor's class schedule weeks ago and he’s certain he has a good thirty minutes until he’s back from physics 182.
Jayce tries to be good. He tries to focus on his assignments, tries to think of anything besides that one fantasy that’s been eating away at his conscience for a week now. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, trying to will away the urges that seem more and more persistent these days.
He finally relents, too weak to fight it any longer. He sets his pencil down with more force than necessary and crosses the invisible line into Viktor’s side of the room. He digs through Viktor's laundry basket, tossing around button up shirts and mismatched socks until he finds what he’s looking for, sitting plainly at the bottom of the basket, taunting him.
With a shaky breath, he grabs Viktor's boxers. It weighs heavy with unsaid feelings and implications that Jayce isn’t quite ready to process yet. He gropes the plaid blue fabric tentatively and brings it up to his nose. Closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale, the smell floods his senses. It smells like Viktor, sweet but refined like old books with hints of floral, but muskier. He feels his cock harden and drags his tongue along the inner seam of the fabric with a pathetic whimper. He swears he can taste Viktor's sweet cunt on it. He sucks it into his mouth and groans, freeing himself from his pants before he has time to really think about what he’s doing.
He hisses into the fabric as he strokes his weeping cock, precum slicking up his hand. He feels the pleasure building remarkably fast, his orgasm threatening to take him under already but he stops stroking, not wanting it to be over so fast. He swallows hard and bunches up the boxers, wrapping it around his cock. He shudders as he feels the wet fabric around him, his fist tight as he starts thrusting into it.
“Oh, God! Viktor-” He gasps and whimpers as he ruts into the boxers, his hands shaking and breath coming out in heavy pants as he imagines it's really him, picturing his pretty roommate bent over the desk, absolutely dripping and debauched as Jayce takes him apart piece by piece on his cock, his face twisted up in pleasure as he moans Jayce’s name.
He feels that pleasure licking up his spine again, fucking the boxers desperately. He bites his lip so hard that he draws blood, hoping the pain will make it last but it feels too good.
“Oh please, please, please. Yes! God you’re so tight,” he whines to himself, his eyes squeezing shut. It takes less than a minute for him to spill a heavy load into Viktor's boxers, leaving the fabric sticky and wet as he strokes himself into painful overstimulation.
He catches his breath and reality comes crashing back into him as he stares down at his roommates now cum stained boxers, the white sticky mess looking like a perverted crime scene. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this now?
With no better alternative, Jayce stuffs it under his bed, hiding it under a pile of blankets his mother insisted he bring for when the nights get extra cold. He feels shame crawl up his neck at the idea of what she might think if she ever finds out what her son has really been up to at Piltover University.
He prays that Viktor doesn’t notice the missing pair and if he does, maybe he’ll just chalk it up to the community drier swallowing it up like the countless socks it’s already claimed. At least he hopes so.
He hears the door handle turn and practically scrambles into his bed, pulling the closest item he can grab, which happens to be his intro to engineering textbook, over his lap to hide his unzipped pants and half hard cock.
“H-hey, Vik!” Jayce says, clearing his throat awkwardly, giving a halfhearted wave. “How was class?”
If Viktor notices how strange he’s acting, he certainly doesn’t mention it. The older boy sets his bag down with a sigh. It hits the ground with a heavy thunk. His hair is a mess from running his fingers through it so many times as he always does when a particular equation is stressing him out. The bags under his eyes are especially prominent after pulling an all nighter studying for his exam. He doesn’t look to be in a particularly chatty mood, but he’s always cordial.
“It was fine,” he huffs, plopping down at his desk, books and papers piled high, mugs with remnants of sweet milk long gone cold are still scattered around. He carefully rests his cane against the wood furniture and loosens his tie. His eyes sweep over Jayce, taking in how his face is flushed and skin a little damp.
“Are you alright?” He asks out of mild curiosity, not concern.
“I’m fine, just came back from the gym is all,” he replies with the most confident voice that he can muster, trying not to squirm under Viktor's gaze.
“In jeans?” He lifts a brow.
“Uh- Hey! How’d the exam go?” He sits up a little, desperate to change the subject.
“Tedious but I’m sure I did fine.” He grumbles, looking out the window. The sun is low in the sky as it sets over the city, casting a golden glow over the lavish buildings of Piltover, a stark contrast to the grungy city he calls home. He usually wouldn’t fall asleep ‘til long after the sun goes down but the previous all nighter has him fighting to keep his eyes open.
He pushes himself to his feet with his cane that will certainly need an upgrade when he gets the funds for it. He goes to his dresser in search of clothes to sleep in.
Jayce watches from across the room, seeing Viktor pick out a band T-shirt that’s too faded to read now. He swallows hard as Viktor opens his underwear drawer and picks out some cotton green boxers that has Jayce wondering what that one would look like covered in cum, just like-
He shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. He looks up at the ceiling as Viktor changes in the shared bathroom and one thought crosses his mind, I am so fucked…
—
Despite Viktor falling asleep as soon as his body hit the cheap mattress, Jayce lay awake for hours, just staring at the ceiling. Time seems to lose meaning as he mulls over everything that’s plagued his mind for the past few weeks. Jayce is not a pervert and he certainly is not gay. Hell, one of the main reasons he was so excited to attend university in the first place is all the beautiful women he could pursue. But here he is, getting flustered like a school girl every time his roommate gives him a scrap of attention and stealing his clothes to have the most intense but shameful orgasms of his life. Trying to make sense of it all gives him a headache so he finds it best to just not think about it. It’s worked out fine so far.
He’s only snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of heavy breathing and muffled whimpers.
He freezes up. No. There’s no way that Viktor is-
All the blood in his head floods down to his cock at the moan that escapes from Viktor's mouth. He must think he’s asleep. Does he do this often? How many times has Viktor touched himself while Jayce is right here?
Jayce shudders and bites back a groan when he hears the wet squelch, hardly muffled by the blanket, Viktor's breath getting faster.
This must go on for twenty or so minutes but it feels like torturous hours as he pretends to be asleep while his roommate greedily fucks himself on his fingers. It’s simultaneously his best dream and worst nightmare.
He subtly palms himself under the blanket, wondering what it would feel like if it was his fingers thrusting into his wet heat instead, if he would clench and squirm like he had imagined so many times. Would he try and push him away when he overstimulates him into too many orgasms or would he completely surrender to it all like a good boy?
Viktor's fingers get faster, more desperate. Soft little whines spill from his lips and Jayce swears he can feel the room heat up and shift.
Viktors whines become more frustrated, and based on the wet sound coming from his side of the room, so do his fingers. He’s so close to cumming but he just can’t push himself over the edge. It sounds painful and Jayce’s chest twists as he holds himself back from just going over there and making him finish over and over again until he can’t physically cum anymore, but he can’t. It wouldn’t be right and Viktor certainly doesn’t think of him that way. Jayce shouldn’t even be thinking that way. It’s his roommate, for fucks sake.
“Ah- Jayce, harder,” Viktor whimpers under his breath, so soft and strained that it’s barely audible. But Jayce knows exactly what he heard and nothing has sounded more like an invitation than that.
Jayce is on his feet before he can even process it, crossing the cluttered dorm room in record time, grabbing Viktor's free wrist that’s draped above his head on his pillow and gripping it tight despite his squirms. He pulls the blanket back and sees him in all his glory. Long pale limbs exposed, little imprints from his leg and back brace dug into them, his skin with a glowing flush and a slick mess between his thighs where the fingers he’s watched do countless equations are now buried.
Jayce understands it now. This is what temptation is. Viktor calls to him like a siren song and he can no longer fight it.
Viktor yelps and attempts to scramble away but Jayce’s firm grasp keeps him in place and it’s not like Viktor’s putting up much of a fight anyway, his thrashing weak and ultimately futile.
“Jayce, what the fuck?!” Vitkor says in mortification, his voice cracking and shaky. His amber eyes are wide like a child caught with his hand quite literally in the cookie jar.
“You need my help,” Jayce replies firmly, not quite sure if he’s trying to convince Viktor or himself. His mind is too fogged with the sound of Vitkors moans and whines to tell.
“Like hell I do! Get your hands off me!” Viktor protests, trying to squirm away again, but his fingers are still buried deep in his aching pussy like he couldn’t bare the thought of being empty despite the mortification of it all.
“I’ve been listening to you finger yourself pathetically for thirty minutes. You even cried my name. Do you really want me to let go or do you want my help?” Jayce says with heavy breaths, secretly praying that Viktor doesn’t send him away. He's not sure he could stop himself anyway.
Viktor's face flushes. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, his dignity begging him to tell Jayce to fuck off, to deny how good his big firm hand feels on his frail wrist, but he can’t deny it so he gives a single nod, swallowing hard.
Jayce is on him in an instant, crawling into his twin sized bed where he gets to see him up close. Gets to touch him like he always dreamed of. Gets to finally taste him.
“Fuck, Vik.” He grabs Viktor's hand and pulls his fingers out of his aching cunt and brings them to his mouth. He sucks on them with a groan somewhere between relief and hunger. The taste of him on his bony fingers puts the little licks Jayce got from his boxers to shame. He swirls his tongue around each digit, licking the webbing and down to the knuckles of his fingers until there's nothing left. He pulls them from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting them.
Viktor's pupils are blown wide like he’s never seen anything more attractive in his life. He’s panting almost as hard as Jayce is, the sight alone making his pussy clench around nothing.
“You taste so amazing. Wanna taste you every day,” Jayce says between heavy breaths, nuzzling his cheek into Viktor's palm and settling between his thighs, laying on his belly.
Viktor's breath hitches, his hand hovering like he’s not sure what to do but settles on resting it on the top of Jayce’s head, running his fingers through the dark locks that look strangely out of place without the gel he uses religiously.
Jayce’s eyes are focused like a predator to prey. He gently spreads Viktor's pussy lips with his thumbs and sees how red and swollen his little cock is from being relentlessly abused by Viktor in a futile attempt to cum on his own.
“I-I usually use toys, but I- uh, didn’t want the vibrator to wake you,” Viktor admits shamefully.
“I’ve been awake the whole time,” Jayce states with dark desire, a small smile playing at his lips.
Viktor's eyes go wide, the shift in the room palpable. The moonlight shines through the window and is just bright enough to illuminate Viktor's cheeks blooming into a shade of pink Jayce has never seen before and has instantly become his new favorite color.
“Oh, god. I didn’t think-”
Jayce scoffs, “Did you really think I wouldn’t hear you from 10 feet away?... or did you want to be heard?” he blows a puff of cool air on Viktor's pussy that makes him gasp and his hole flutter. “Does that make you wet, baby?”
“Jayce…” he whimpers at the pet name and the feeling of Jayce trailing kisses and bites up his inner thighs, his tongue swiping at the wetness there.
Jayce carefully lifts Viktor's legs over his shoulder, being extra mindful about Viktor's bad one. He looks Viktor in the eye as he lets his flat tongue drag from his dripping hole to his cock, bringing it into his mouth and sucking softly with a groan.
Viktor throws his head back with a cry, tightening his grip on his hair. “Jayce!”
“Yeah, just like that, baby.” He laps hungrily at Viktor's cunt, stuffing his tongue inside, licking and curling as far in as he can reach, drinking up Viktor's nectar so obscenely it has Viktor squirming and whimpering. His tongue swirls around his little throbbing cock, giving it a soft nibble that has him keening off the bed.
It’s not the first time he’s eaten pussy. Far from it, actually. But nothing that’s made him lose control like this. Usually he’d take it slow, tease and edge and caress and build them up until they break but it’s been too many nights of pent up lust for his roommate. Too many daydreams that have him falling behind in his most boring classes. Too many showers fucking his fist until he makes a mess on the tile wall. He just throws himself into it full heartedly and Viktor certainly doesn’t complain.
Jayce ruts and grinds his hips into the mattress, his cock so hard it hurts but the friction does very little to take the edge off. A particularly hard suck has Viktor's thighs shaking and heels digging into his shoulderblades.
“So good,” he pants and whines, “So close.”
Jayce hums in response, slipping two thick fingers into Viktor's cunt, finding hardly any resistance with how wet and worked up he is. He thrusts gently as Viktor’s head is thrown back with heavy pants. He feels his walls tighten as he gets close. With expert precision, he crooks his fingers perfectly and curls them against his sweet spot, stealing a strangled grasp from Viktor. Viktor’s body shoots up into a sitting position, the intense pleasure from his G-spot forcing him to curl in on himself even though his back protests. Jayce places a firm hand on Viktor's abdomen and pushes him back down, his big hand easily pinning him in place.
“Stay,” he practically growls. One more lick to his cock forces him to fall over the edge with a whine, a wave of intense pleasure washing over him at an intensity he’s never felt before. He locks his legs around Jayce's head and squeezes him between shaking thighs with surprising strength but there's nowhere else Jayce would rather be.
He gives Viktor a moment to breathe as he comes down from the high, slowly softening his tight grip on Jayce's hair and thighs falling open and relaxed once more.
“So beautiful…” Jayce says, his voice low and rough as he rests his head on his thigh, still grinding his hips down into the mattress, his cock aching.
Viktor’s face flushes as he lets go of Jayce’s hair. “Thank you, that was, um,” he clears his throat. He’s never been good with expressing his feelings in words, he simply gazes into his eyes, hoping Jayce understands.
Jayce gets the message loud and clear and smiles a little, his lips and chin still shiny. He gently starts to rock his fingers back and forth inside him again. Viktor tenses up, hissing in an overstimulated breath.
“I know, baby, but I need to loosen you up if you're gonna take me,” Jayce says in a soft coo, trying to ease him through the obvious overstimulation and discomfort.
He whines but lets him continue to stretch him out as two fingers turn to three, then four. His head spins, lungs ache. He’s never had more than a couple of his own fingers inside himself. The idea of being fully penetrated has never been particularly appealing to him. There’s the difficulty with his hip and spine and throw some body dysphoria in the mix, he’s just avoided it all thus far. But he trusts Jayce. He’s not sure why, they’re not particularly close, but he does.
Jayce pulls his fingers out once he’s sure Viktor is stretched enough to take him. He hastily pulls his own pants and boxers down, looking like he’s ready to rip them if they so much as put up a fight.
His hard cock falls out and bobs against his stomach. It’s long and thick, the tip a deep red and shiny from precum. It’s not entirely surprising given how big and strong Jayce is as a person. Viktor often wondered what his mother was feeding him back home. But regardless, it would make anyone nervous, let alone a virgin.
He lowers himself over Viktor, using one arm to prop himself up so as to not crush him, and the other to rub the tip through his wet folds.
“You’re so good, Viktor, so good for me,” he says between leaving heated hickeys on his neck. He pushes forward, his fat tip putting pressure against Viktors tight hole before Viktors grabbing onto his forearms, a sense of panic crashing over him like a wave.
“W-wait! I’m a-” the words die in his throat, embarrassment making his eyes close. He must be the only junior on campus to still have his V-card. He’s always been too devoted to his studies to engage in hookup culture, let alone entertaining the idea of a relationship on top of his course load and not to mention his other array of issues. The list just goes on. It never seemed to bother him before, but now, under Jayce's firm body, that lack of experience has never seemed so devastating.
Jayce tilts his head for a moment before understanding sinks in. “Oh. Oh...”
Viktor feels his heart clench. He’s so stupid to think this would ever work. That his fantasy could ever be reality.
“Just forget it. Get off me-” Viktor squirms, trying to push him away and shut him out before he can be hurt, just like he has always done.
“Hey,” Jayce grabs his jaw, turning his gaze back to him and essentially immobilizing him. “Do you want this? Do you want me?’ His eyes are honest and soft but not filled with the condescending sympathy Viktor is used to seeing in his life.
“...Yes,” he admits after a long moment of hesitation. He practically lives in a state of turmoil between what he wants and what he’s willing to do for it. But for this moment with Jayce, he’d do just about anything.
“Then trust me. I’ll take care of you, okay?” The vulnerability in his voice is on full display. He’s done hiding his feelings. His gaze falls to Viktor's lips.
He nods.
Jayce closes the distance, kissing him in a surprisingly soft manner. He bites back a moan at the taste of Viktor's lips. How many times had he imagined this? Too many to count but none of them could ever live up to the real thing.
Viktor follows his lead, his kiss all sloppy tongue and teeth before he’s able to find a rhythm. He’s always been a quick study when it matters.
Once Jayce is sure that Viktor is relaxed enough, he slowly pushes inside, keeping him calm with loving kisses and soft shushes.
“I-It hurts,” Viktor whimpers into the kiss, gripping Jayce’s bicep harder.
“I know baby, just give it a minute, it’ll feel good soon.”
He pushes in inch by inch, going slow enough as to not tear Viktor's tight cunt.
Finally he’s seated all the way inside, hips pressing against hips and the tight warm wet walls squeezing his cock forces a shuddering breath out of him. He’s never felt anything like it and he wishes he could stay here forever.
“You with me, V?” He asks softly, brushing some tussled hair out of his face.
Viktor whimpers and nods, tears stinging his eyes at the wave of feelings and overwhelming sensations crash over him. “I’m here.”
“Hows it feel, baby?” He kisses his cheek, using all his self control to keep his hips still so Viktor has a chance to adjust. He could never forgive himself if he fucked up Viktors first time.
“Feels full,” he swallows hard “Burns a little.”
“I got you, V” Jayce rubs firm circles on his cock and kisses him gently until he feels his tense body go pliant under him.
The pain subsides slowly and gives way to small hints of pleasure.
“I-I’m okay,” Viktor pants, giving Jayce a small nod to keep going.
Jayce nods back and shudders at the first thrust of his hips.
“Fuuuck, Vik, you feel so good,” he groans, his head falling forward to bury into Viktor's neck, his breath hot and heavy on the marked up skin there that will certainly have him wearing scarfs and turtle necks to class for the next week.
“Jayce!” He cries as Jayce picks up to a steady pace, forcing licks of pleasure up his spine. He digs his nails into the tan muscled back to ground himself but it just seems to spur Jayce on more.
“Oh, god, you’re perfect. So perfect. Better than I imagined.” He babbles, picking up the pace and fucking into him faster, barely holding himself back from cumming inside him right there.
“Y-you imagined this?” Viktor whimpers, his cheeks flushing for too many reasons to count.
“You have no idea. Every night, every class, every stroll around campus, every shower. God, I need you so bad. Never letting you go,” he grunts.
Jayce's confession has Viktor clenching onto his hard cock. He always thought himself too difficult to love, all sharp angles, bony limbs, and snarky comments. Yet here he is, being loved right into the mattress by the smart handsome roommate that he’s been silently longing for since the day he walked in with those big puppy dog eyes, asking a dozen questions as he helped Viktor hang up his blueprints.
“Need you too. Need you more than anything. Please don’t stop, Jayce!” He cries and clings on to him, terrified that he may slip through his fingers if he loosens his grasp for even a moment.
Jayce gently lifts Viktor's bad leg over his hip to alleviate any pressure on it before changing the angle and fucking into him hard and fast, the crappy bed frame knocking against the wall with every thrust.
“OH FUCK! JAYCE!” Viktor cries so loud, they will certainly be getting a visit from the RA in the morning but they can’t bring themselves to care at the moment. The new angle has Jayce drilling into his sweet spot perfectly, making his back arch off the bed.
“Yeah? Right there?” he spurs him on, rolling and grinding his hips against that spot incessantly. His eyes are big and adoring as he watches the way Viktor's eyes roll back and moans pitch. “That’s it baby, cry for me.”
Tears freely roll down Viktor's face as his pleasure builds higher and higher to an extent he’s never experienced from his toys or fingers before. As the pleasure builds, his face twists up and an unfamiliar feeling coils up in his gut. The only thing he can really relate it too is having to pee but he would never-
“J-Jayce, stop, it feels like im gonna-”
Jayce grins and just pounds harder, his thumb finding Viktor's neglected cock again and rubbing firm circles over it.
“Jayce, I'm serious! It feels like I’m gonna pee-” He smacks Jayce’s chest in panic, but the pleasure is so overwhelming, he’s hardly putting any strength into it.
“I got you, Vik. It's okay, just let go. I got you.”
“No, No, I can’t.” He shakes his head, his fighting desperate but futile.
“You can,” Jayce purrs. He punctuates his sentence with a final thrust that sends Viktor tumbling over the edge. Squirt gushes out of him as his orgasm slams into him like a train, wracking through his whole body, making his scalp tingle and toes curl. His ears are ringing, vision spotting and he’s certain from the soreness in his throat that he’s crying pretty loud.
Jayce watches in awe as he fucks him through it. He groans and smashes his lips with Viktors in a heated kiss, tongues and teeth clashing as he cums deep inside. Viktor's fluttering cunt wrings out every last drop from him until they’re both shaking and gasping for breath.
“HEY ASSHOLES, SOME OF US HAVE EXAMS IN THE MORNING!” A disgruntled student in the neighboring dorm yells, slamming his fist on the wall.
The two of them break apart from the kiss in a fit of laughter from disbelief and embarrassment but no real shame. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment for either of them.
Viktor initiates the kiss this time, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him close. They kiss until they’re forced to pull away for breath, their foreheads pressed against each other.
“I think I'm in love with you,” Jayce admits with a shaky breath before he loses his courage post orgasmic high.
Viktor gawks. That was the last thing he expected anyone to say to him, let alone his gorgeous and brilliant roommate that’s had his heart for longer than he’s known, but he supposes he still has a lot to learn.
“I think I love you too, Jayce.” He confesses, his accent thicker than Jayce has ever heard it. He kisses his cheek.
Jayce kisses his back, a big fat grin on his face before he carefully pulls out of vik, a trickle of cum leaking out and joining the puddle of fluid soaking Viktor’s bedsheets.
“Ugh, we made a mess.” Viktor groans, scrunching his nose up.
“Oh, right, uh-” He picks Viktor up, being mindful of his leg and back and sets him down on his bed across the room.
Clean is not the word Viktor would use to describe Jayce's bed but it’s certainly a step up from the fluid stained mattress he was just saved from.
Jayce looks around the room for a towel to wipe the mess between Viktor's thighs but finds none. Instead he just grabs whatever clothes he can find first which happens to be a pair of boxers.
He wipes off the cum with the boxers and Viktor grimaces.
“Really, Jayce? My boxers?” He scoffs.
“It’s not like it's your first pair to have cum stains,” Jayce chuckles to himself, focused on the task at hand.
Viktor's head snaps up, “What was that?”
Jayce’s hand pauses and suddenly feels eleven years old again when his mother found his stash of Piltovers Finest Play Bunnies, under his bed.
“Oh, uh, nothing, just-”
“No, what do you mean by that?” Viktor persists, a smile pulling at his lips that reveals the little snaggle tooth Jayce has come to adore so dearly.
Jayce hangs his head, “I may have stolen a pair of your boxers…” He murmurs shamefully.
“And…?” Viktor quirks a brow, urging him to continue.
“And… I may have jerked off using them… and cum in them.” Jayce looks up at Viktor with his puppy dog eyes, expecting to be scolded or shamed but to his surprise, Viktor just laughs.
“You’re such a pervert!” he laughs harder, the unusual carefree attitude makes Jayce laugh too.
“I'm the perv? You’re the one who was touching himself and moaning my name 10ft away from me!” Jayce shoots back playfully.
Viktors gasps and playfully shoves him “Shut up!”
Jayce shoves him back with a goofy grin, play fighting until they’re twisted up in each other's arms, cuddling in Jayce's bed.
“I love you, dork” Viktor nuzzles his nose to Jayce’s
“I love you too… perv,” Jayce says lovingly, nuzzling him right back.
Authors Note:
Im back from a two year hiatus cause I can't get panty theif Jayce out of my head. enjoy.
Having known Astarion long before he was turned, an unexpected reunion with the man you once loved stirs up a whirlwind of emotions.
1.7k (angst&fluff)
To say your life had gone from uneventful to spiraling chaos in the course of a single day is an understatement. Having been abducted by mind flayers, surviving the crash of a nautiloid ship, and having a damn tadpole wriggling around your head, you’re now working with a group of unfortunate souls doomed to the same fate as you unless you can find a healer.
These strangers have all been rather welcoming in their own sense, some more than others. All of them except for one, a pale elf with a serious attitude problem. Since the moment you ran into him, he’s been very distant, always traveling behind the party or several paces ahead, never making eye contact, and avoiding conversations by all possible means.
What puzzles you is why he only acts that way towards you. He's had no problem engaging with the others. What had you done to piss him off? After all, you’ve been perfectly friendly, even offering to share your rations, an apple and a bottle of below average wine that he had so blatantly rejected without saying so much as a word. Instead, he just walked away to his tent, burying his nose in a book he suddenly found oh so interesting. The whole interaction has left an unpleasant taste in your mouth that wasn’t entirely the fault of the wine.
As night crept upon us, conversations died down and one by one everyone retired to their tent. Eventually, you follow suit, but sleep did not bless you this night. You stay awake, staring at the roof of your tent, pondering why the elf seemingly hates you so. The look of distaste on his pale face paints your mind, but the more you picture it, the more unsettled you feel.
On a subconscious level you recognized something in him. His sharp features, silvery voice, and charming smile felt so familiar, yet so foreign. Then it dawns on you. He’s someone you knew long ago. Of course, it’s been nearly two centuries and he looks a lot different now. You remember the way the sunlight brought the golden hues out of his brown hair. It was longer at the time, more neatly groomed. It was a beautiful contrast to his green eyes that were as deep as the forest itself. His skin was a warm tan from his time outdoors. Oh, how he loved the sun.
Astarion. How could you not have seen it before?
You step out of your tent, needing a breath of fresh air to clear your head of it all, and there sat in front of the weakening fire is the man you had once known so intimately. In a moment of courage, you quietly approached him, taking a seat by his side.
His gaze never left the fire, the warm glow reflecting in his dark, crimson eyes. Surely he knows you’re there, but perhaps he will continue to pretend you don’t exist. Perhaps that’s all he wants from you, to be left alone. But you’d be damned if you don’t say something. You have to know. You look into the fire, willing it to give you strength.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Your eyes stay fixed on the flames, waiting for some sort of response, if one was even to come. Astarion doesn't respond at first, your hope of getting any sort of response dwindling by the second.
“Indeed it has,” he finally replies, his voice uncharacteristically somber. The sweet man you once loved now looks as if the world has broken him into a million pieces, the warmth in his eyes long gone.
“It’s been, what? 200 years?”
“201, yes.” His gaze never falters from the fire, as if he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye.
“I almost didn’t recognise you. You look… different,” you try to say delicately, but the scowl on his face tells you he doesn’t take kindly to that comment.
“Yes, well, a lot has happened since then. I’m not the man you once knew.” His voice is cold.
“Fate is a cruel master, is it not?”
“That it is,” he replies with a somber expression. He exhales deeply from his nose, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.
What… happened?” You ask cautiously, scared that he may scamper off like a wounded animal at any moment.
He sighs, his piercing eyes finally meeting yours, as if truly seeing you for the first time. It still makes your heart flutter as it did so long ago. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation.”
You stay quiet, waiting for him to share on his own accord.
“Do you remember the last night we spent together? That night at the tavern?” He asks.
“Of course I do, how could I forget? We had a lovely evening together at the tavern and spent, well, a rather intimate night together. One of many. I fell asleep in your arms, but when I awoke, you were gone,” your lips tug into a frown.
His expression mirrors yours, painting a mournful look. “I remember that night clearly despite it being many centuries ago. I had business to attend to, you know how it was. I meant to return to you before the sun rose, to hold you in my arms once again. But as it seems, fate had different plans for me.” His eyes dull as he speaks, like his mind has wandered far from here.
“I was attacked. A gang of vagrants. A tribe of wandering ‘Gur,’ took issue with a ruling I made. They beat me to death's door. When Cazador appeared, he chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life.” He looks to the sky for a moment, as if the stars would give him the chance to change the past.
“Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the streets’, I took him up on the offer.” He sighs.
“It was only afterwards I realized just how long eternity could be… an eternity without you.” His gaze meets yours, the pain in his eyes saying a thousand unspoken words.
You fall quiet, at a complete loss for words. You thought he had left you in cold blood. The love of your life gone in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. And perhaps the anger made it easier to accept, perhaps that’s why you’d let it consume you for so long. Finally hearing the truth after so many decades of anger, hurt, and confusion, leaves you with a deep feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you say quietly, the urge to reach out and comfort him tugs at your heart strings, but you resist, scared of how he may react.
He nods in acknowledgement, sitting in silence for a few moments.
“As it would happen, I became a slave, a vampire spawn kept by the Szarr family.” He looks at you with genuine care for the first time in centuries. “You must know I tried to get back to you. I tried to escape many times in hope I could see you just once more. But Cazador had a cruel sense of obedience. But being away from you when you were just within reach? That was the true torture.”
“Astarion…” Your voice comes out a weak whisper, stolen away by grief. Your heart truly breaks for him.
“The thought of being with you again kept me going. Even 200 years later, you’re my glimmer of hope in the darkness,” he says, letting his eyes fall closed for just a breath.
“Then why? Why avoid me when I'm right here?”
“Just look at me!” He snaps, centuries of pent up self hatred breaking through. “I don't need a reflection to see what I've become. A monster. A freak of nature driven by a lust for blood.” Angry tears prick his narrowed eyes. “The gentle, carefree man you once knew is dead. I’m a shell of the person you loved.”
Your heart shatters into a million pieces. Maybe it’s true, maybe the man you once knew is dead, broken by the world, but perhaps you could learn to love this version of him too.
“Astarion, you’re not a monster-”
He cuts you off before you can even finish. “You don’t know what I've done! The people I led back to Cazador, sentencing them to their death. There must have been a thousand of them, and I remember each and every one.” The chains of his actions weigh heavily on him. His body trembles, a whirlwind of emotions that he has repressed for centuries, now clashing together all at once in a miserable symphony.
“You did what you had to to survive.” You place your hand on his, the feeling of his soft skin bringing back so many memories. “That doesn’t make you a monster.”
“Could you…” He takes a deep breath, his voice shaking with nerves and doubt. “Could you still love someone like me?” His face softens, no longer hiding his vulnerability.
“Of course I could. I do. Star. My Star.” You intertwine your fingers with his. Your hands still fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.
He smiles a real genuine smile, possibly for the first time in centuries. “You… you still love me? Even after everything?”
“More than you know. I never stopped loving you. Even two centuries later, you’re who I dream of each night. some part of me hoped that one day I'd be in your arms again. I’ve never even taken another lover, no one could compare.” You lean your head against his shoulder, a gesture he gladly accepts.
“I love you too. I always will.” He places a soft kiss to the top of your head, quietly humming in content.
There's a comfortable silence that hangs in the air like a warm blanket, only broken by the soft pops of the fire and the occasional howl of the wind. For once, the world felt quiet, like it was only the two of you. When the morning dawns, so will the burdens that we carry: the tadpoles, the new form your lover’s taken, the years of conflicted emotions, but tonight none of that matters. All that matters is you’re back in Astarion’s arms once again.
A/N: I’m so sorry for my long hiatus, I got swept up in school work. But my semester is over now which gives me more time to write!
After one too many failed dates, Y/N finds out the real reason Gabriel has sabotaged her love life.
(3.5k)
Warnings: Smutty smut
“Check please,” you politely ask the waitress as she passes by.
She nods and digs the checkbook out of her apron pocket and leaves it at the edge of the table, next to your empty plates and half finished glasses of red wine.
You were lucky enough to get a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in the city that’s typically booked out months in advance, accompanied by your lovely date.
You were skeptical about trying dating apps, claiming “they’re for losers who don’t go outside.” But the Winchester brothers had convinced you to give it a try after the countless dates before that had ended in disaster, to say the least. Dean even helped you set up your profile, choosing the best photos on your camera roll, limited to the ones without the blood and weapons.
You had almost given up in total, on the verge of deleting the app, when you matched with a nice man named Daryll. He’s a few years older with a steady job as a physician and a luxury car. Not to mention that he’s tall and clean shaven, with rich umber skin, and a smile that could light up a room. He’s dreamy, to say the least.
“So…” He trails off with a suggestive smile, taking a meticulous sip of his drink.
“So,” you repeat, your gaze getting lost in his dazzling amber eyes. The tension hangs in the air, cutting through the sound of plates and drinks clinking, and muffled chatter from the other patrons.
“I had a really nice time tonight, we should do this again sometime.” He reaches his hand across the table, resting it on top of yours.
You blush and nod your head. “Yes, I would really like that.”
After a short debate on who will pay, Daryll insists and grabs the check, slipping his sleek metal credit card into the folder.
The waiter whisks it away and returns shortly, thanking us with a polite smile.
You exit the restaurant with Daryll, the smell of extravagant food fading from your senses as the door shuts behind you. You stop to admire the twinkling stars in the dark summer night sky, a light breeze blowing your hair back in the wind.
There’s an unspoken debate, as you stand shoulder to shoulder in silence. It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten this far on a date and you're left feeling rather nervous.
You bite down your nerves and decide to speak, choosing not to waste this opportunity. “You know, I have an unopened bottle of Italian Riesling back at my apartment,” you say, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”
You fish out your keys from the bottom of your purse and shove it in the lock, with a light jingle, the door opens, revealing the tiny apartment that you call home. “So, this is it,” you say, inviting him in and gesturing for him to sit on the gray loveseat in the living room.
You hope he doesn’t mind the organized clutter of your apartment. Books, paintings, and houseplants tastefully strewn throughout the rooms. Of course you had hidden away your hunting gear in a small closet, given the small chance the night ending at your place
“It’s nice. Cozy.” He takes off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. He takes a seat in front of the roaring fireplace, the warm orange glow illuminating the room and the burning wood giving off a pleasant aroma.
You hastily search your cabinet through the countless bottles of wine until you find the Italian Riesling you have been saving for special occasions. It must’ve been sitting there for god knows how long, but wine gets better with age, right?
You pour the wine into two of your fanciest glasses, careful not to spill a single drop over the edge. Clicking the button on your stereo that sits on the kitchen counter, the soft sound of classical music fills the room. You pick up the glasses and take a seat next to Daryll, handing him the other one with grace.
“To us,” he says in his smooth voice, lifting his glass in the air.
“To us,” you repeat, clinking your glass in a toast and taking a sip of the wine. The semi-sweet liquid flows down your throat, leaving a dry aftertaste of peaches and grapes.
Daryll scooches closer, placing a hand on your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. His thumb rubs teasing circles along your skin, your flesh heating up at his touch.
It’s been a long time since anyone has touched you, let alone someone as attractive as Daryll. Your breathing becomes heavier as you try to quell your growing excitement.
“Tell me, Y/N, do you usually lure men back to your apartment with fancy wine?” He says with a flirty smile, lightly squeezing your thigh.
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure before. Why, is it working?” You giggle.
“You know,” he says, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, “I think it is.” He leans in close, his lips just inches from yours, the sexual tension growing by the second.
You close your eyes and lean in, desire burning in the pit of your stomach. Just before you can break the distance, you’re interrupted by the sound of blaring music and flashing lights.
You both jump back at the surprise, looking around at the once calm room turned chaotic. The swirling rainbow lights and reflections from the sizable disco ball dropped from the ceiling dances across the walls. The stereo that previously played peaceful classical music, now plays the best of 70’s disco at the highest volume, so loud that it sounds distorted and rings in your ears.
“What. The. Fuck,” Daryll yells over the music, his face scrunches up in a mixture of confusion and anger.
“I- I can explain!” You yell back, covering your ears as you desperately try to think of a reasonable explanation for the sudden madness. You’re interrupted by the feeling of something small and furry scurrying past your feet, making you gasp and tuck your feet onto the couch cushions.
A mouse dashes across the floor, barreling directly towards Daryll, catching you both off guard as you’ve never had a rodent problem before.
Despite carrying himself as a strong, fearless man, he runs for the door in a panicked hurry. “Look, I'm out!” he shouts with a disgusted look and slams the door behind him.
Anger surges through your body as you witness the one successful date you’ve had in months storm out the door, and you know damn well who’s to blame. You grab the stereo, ripping the plug out of the wall and smash it on the ground, the pieces scattering across the floor, halting the music mid track.
“GABRIEL, GET YOUR FEATHERY ASS DOWN HERE!” You yell, shaking with anger, and looking to the ceiling.
“Hey sugar, you called?” The familiar voice of the mischievous archangel says from behind you.
You turn on your heels to face him. Of course he’s dressed for the occasion, wearing a stupid dress shirt with an obnoxiously loud pattern, the first few buttons undone, exposing the skin of his chest, and black bell bottom pants, with slicked back hair, and a fake mustache. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he’d fallen right out of the 70’s.
The way he stands nonchalantly with an amused smile on his face, leaves you fuming. “What is wrong with you! You ruin everything!” You yell, your face heating up.
He stares back at you, seemingly amused with your little outburst, conjuring a lollipop in his hand and sucking on it.
“All I want is one successful date! One!” You point at him angrily, taking a step closer. “First it was the nice girl from the bar that you sent to some alternate reality that definitely scarred her for life, then it was the cute mechanic that took me to the movies who, may I remind you, you released a dozen snakes on him.”
Gabriel snickers, recalling the antics that he found so enjoyable.
“And now, this!” You snap, walking forward til you’re all but a few feet away. You take a deep breath, collecting your emotions. “I get that I'm a hunter, but maybe I don’t want to die alone,” your voice takes on a melancholy tone.
His face softens, his signature cocky smile melting into a frown.
“It’s like you don’t want me to be happy,” you whisper, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.
“Hey! That’s not true!” Gabriel snaps in an offended tone, suddenly taking this very seriously.
“Then why, Gabriel? Cause I don’t find this funny! At all!” You look up at him with pleading eyes, desperate for some kind of an answer to all this torment. What did you do to deserve this?
He stays silent, but his soft, bashful eyes says it all.
“Oh,” you whisper, something inside of you clicking, finally connecting the dots that should have been so obvious. “Are you… Jealous?”
He scoffs, looking away, but doesn’t deny it.
“You are! You’re jealous!” You say in disbelief with a shameless smile.
“No! I just… I just don’t think they deserve you,” he replies, trying to keep his cool demeanor he’s worked so hard to curate. “You deserve someone capable, someone who’s gonna treat you right and take care of you.” He straightens his posture and subtly puffs out his chest, which might have been effective at impressing you, if he wasn’t dressed like the long lost member of the Bee Gees.
“Someone like you?” You say, lifting a brow and stepping closer, now invading his personal space, not that he seems to mind.
“I didn’t say that.” He furrows his brows, taking a daring step forward, nearly closing the distance between the two of you.
“You didn’t deny it either,” you say with a cocky smile.
He stares at you intently, his longing eyes falling to your pink lips.
Feeling a rush of boldness, you lean in close, placing a hand on his chest and whispering in his ear, “If you want to take me on a date, you could just ask.” You pull back smiling.
His face flushes a light pink, his lips curling into a grin. “The night is still young, cupcake, how about we fix this?” He says, ushering to the chaotic room, lights still spinning and remains of the stereo scattered across the apartment.
He snaps his fingers and your apartment is restored to its former glory, this time covered in candles that illuminate the room in romantic lighting. The repaired stereo sits on your counter, soft jazz music playing. Gabriel playfully dances to the music, taking your hands and encouraging you to join him.
You smile, admiring his work and casually sway with him. He always did know a thing or two about style.
He leads you to the loveseat, skillfully pulling you into his lap. With another snap of his fingers, a tray of chocolate covered strawberries appears in front of you, as well as two glasses of strawberry champagne.
Gabriel is notorious for his love of sugar, always snacking on some kind of candy, even in less than appropriate settings. Lucky for you, you’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth, and being with Gabe certainly promises more of where this came from in the future.
You take a sip of your drink, the sweet taste of strawberries dancing on your tongue. You smile, maintaining playful eye contact as you swallow. “This is nice Gabe, you should’ve started with this.” You chuckle.
He laughs and rests one hand on your hip, the other grabbing a strawberry. “Now where's the fun in that?” He teases. “Open wide, sugar.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
You blush at the innuendo, but do as he says, chuckling as he guides the tip of the strawberry in your mouth. “Mmm,” you hum in satisfaction as the dark chocolate melts in your mouth, mixing with the sweet flavor of the fresh strawberry, much sweeter than any strawberry you can buy from the supermarket.
Gabriel smirks at your reaction, taking the rest of the strawberry in his mouth, his eyes lighting up as he savors the flavor, tossing the stem aside. “You have a little something here, cupcake,” Gabriel says flirtatiously. He places his thumb on the corner of your lips, swiping a smidge of chocolate off, his finger lingering on your lips for a moment before he sucks the chocolate off his thumb, never breaking eye contact.
“Th-thanks,” you stutter, suddenly feeling hot and flustered.
“Don’t sweat it.” His eyes fixate on your lips, studying every curve. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He asks in a soft, caring tone.
You stare at him in shock, his genuine compliment feeling out of character from his usually sarcastic, dickhead self. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply.
He grins like a cheshire cat and pulls you into a kiss, catching you by surprise.
You quickly melt into the kiss, all of your frustration from your failed date melting away. All that matters right now is Gabriel, and God does it feel so right.
He pushes his tongue in your mouth, tangling with yours. The sweet flavors of lingering chocolate and strawberry mix together in the most pleasant way, eliciting a moan from you that only spurs him on.
You tangle your fingers through his golden locks, lightly tugging on the ends, earning a groan from him. You grind down onto his lap as you deepen the kiss.
He reluctantly pulls away for air, both of you out of breath. “You taste so good, sweetstuff,” he purrs, letting his hands roam from your hip and down to your thighs. “But I want to taste you elsewhere,” he whispers seductively, sending a shiver of arousal down your spine.
“Please Gabe,” you beg, desperate for more.
Pleased with your reaction, he lightly peppers kisses from your jaw, down to your throat, licking and nipping as he goes.
You lean back, giving him access to every inch of your skin.
When he reaches your collarbone, he furrows his brows in frustration at the constriction clothes that hide your body from him. With a snap of his fingers, they’re gone.
You gasp, feeling completely exposed to him, but don’t protest.
He pulls you off his lap and kneels on the floor in front of you, sitting back on his heels. He drinks in your form, completely entranced in your beauty. “Like I said, Gorgeous.” He smiles like a kid on Christmas.
You blush profusely, but before you can respond, he kisses down your chest and takes your nipple into his mouth. You throw your head back and bite your lip to stifle a moan, the sensation sending arousal straight to your core.
He sucks and bites, lightly rolling the bud between his teeth and tongue. Once he’s satisfied with leaving you a quivering mess, he moves his way down. He kisses from your sternum, to your stomach, and down to your hips.
Your breath hitches in your throat as he places his hands on your thighs and spreads them apart, revealing your aching pussy to him.
“There’s the good stuff,” he says with a stupid smile that just screams ‘Gabriel’.
“You’re such a dork,” you retort playfully.
He gives you a flirtatious smirk, before placing kisses on your knee and working his way up your thighs, painfully slow, taking his time to tease you. He maintains deep eye contact with you as he inches ever closer to exactly where you need him most.
You tremble with anticipation, your body aching with arousal, craving him in every way possible.
He kisses to the crook of your thigh, biting down playfully, surely leaving a mark where his teeth dig into your flesh. He kisses right next to your pussy, painfully close, yet not close enough at all.
“Gaaabe,” you whine, tired of his teasing. You run your fingers through his hair and lightly pull, silently egging him on.
He smirks, enjoying keeping you on edge, desperate for him. “You gotta beg for it, sugar. Tell me how much you need it,” he says in a mischievous voice
You clench your jaw. He’s the trickster, of course he would enjoy teasing you. “Please, gabe,” you plead.
He raises his eyebrow, not satisfied with your feeble attempt.
You swallow your pride, the need to feel Gabriel, taking priority over your ego. “Please Gabe, I need you so bad. Please touch me!” You beg him, pulling on his hair.
“Much better,” he purrs. He uses his grace to pin your hands to your side and spread your legs wider, keeping you in place.
You whine in anticipation, trying to grind your hips forward, but you’re completely immobilized by his grace.
He laughs, enjoying watching you helplessly struggle. Deciding to give in, he licks a long stripe up your pussy and swirls tight circles around your clit.
“Oh, Gabe,” you moan, shocks of pleasure send through your every nerve.
He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure to drive you crazy. The movements of his tongue goes from planned and strategic to sloppy and passionate, lapping up all your wetness like he’s a man starved.
A string of expletives fall from your mouth as your brain goes foggy, reality and pleasure mixing together and becoming one.
“Mm… sugar, you taste amazing, better than any candy I've tried, and I've tried them all.” He winks.
“God Gabe, are you trying to kill me?” You pant, your eyes meeting his, pupils blown wide with lust.
He scowls at the mention of his fathers name, but his expression quickly morphs into a cocky grin as an idea dawns on him. He presses his finger against your entrance, teasingly circling it, but never pushing in like you need.
“Please, no more teasing,” you pout, trying to grind down onto his fingers.
He scoffs, looking rather amused. “You have no idea how long you’ve been teasing me, sweetstuff. Seeing you going on dates with other humans, flirting with them right in front of me. This is just a taste of what you’ve put me through,” he says in a low, seductive voice. He pushes in the tip of his finger ever so slightly.
You bite down on your lip. You should feel bad about putting him through that, but all you can focus on right now is the way he’s teasing your aching cunt.
He slowly pushes his finger in to the first knuckle, before pulling out completely.
“No! Please!.. I need you,” you confess with wide eyes.
He smirks, getting exactly what he was looking for and pushes his finger all the way in, eliciting a deep moan from you. He starts slowly fucking you with his finger, building up pace until you’re a writhing, moaning mess.
You fight against his grace, desperately wanting to run your fingers through his hair and kiss him, but the struggle is ultimately useless against the overwhelming power of an archangel.
He pulls his finger out, and you whine in disappointment that’s quickly cut off by him shoving two fingers into you, fucking you relentlessly.
His fingers feel like heaven as that burning feeling builds in your stomach, the muscles in your body slowly tightening, reaching the point of no return. His name spills from your mouth over and over like a prayer, as your brain drowns in pleasure
He smiles, knowing just how close you are, and curls his fingers forward, pressing up against your sweet spot.
It’s all over as the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum harder than you ever have in your entire life. “Fuck! Gabe!” You moan loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every nerve in your body lights up, your walls spasming around his fingers as you ride out your high.
“There you go, sugar,” he coo’s, his eyes tracing over every inch of your body, thoroughly enjoying the show. Once you’ve come down from your orgasm, a panting and sweating mess, he releases you from his grace and sucks his fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking off all your cum. “Mm, I could get used to that,” he says with a cocky smile.
“Me too,” you reply, leaning your head back against the couch.
He shuffles onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms. He feels a sense of peace and happiness as he finally gets to be with the human he had fallen for long ago.
Bathing in the afterglow, you feel his hard cock pressing against your ass, giving you a sense of pride and a new pang of arousal. You palm him through his jeans and he groans at your touch.
“Woah, sugar,” he says, removing your hand. “We’ll get to that later. Trust me, tonight is far from over. But for now, you should relax. I’m here to take care of you, and if you let me, I'd like to be with you full time,” he admits, scared of being rejected.
“An archangel boyfriend? Count me in.” You smile, nuzzling your head against his chest.
He pulls you closer and hums in content.
Maybe the happiness you were searching for, has been here all along.
Y/N has nightmares of a winged man haunting her dreams. When her dreams become reality, her world changes completely.
(1.3k)
The sound of wings rustling, knife slashing, and faded screams echo all around. The stink of metallic blood and rotting corpses burning my nose. I’m choking on the thick air, and it feels like my chest is caving in as my breathing gets shallower by the second. There’s blood everywhere. My eyes widen as my gaze falls on the mangled corpses upon the forest floor, each one twisted and bent in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Rays of moonlight pours through the trees, dancing across their mangled remains like some twisted classical painting.
I sink to the damp forest floor. There’s no escape.
Interesting idea, I’ve never read anything like this before on tumblr (love triangle with dean and lucifer😱!? Yes please😍!!) . The first chapter definitely starts in an exciting and fast-paced way , good job 😊👍
Giving into her destiny, Y/N chooses to stay with her soulmate. One thing leads to another, and she learns exactly how the devil loves and what the rest of eternity with Lucifer holds.
(5k)
TW: this chapter contains smut
“It’s my choice, and I choose… Lucifer.”
Lucifer looks surprised for a moment but his demeanor quickly changes as his mouth twists into a cocky grin, his wings standing tall, all of his doubt washes away.
Dean and Sam stand in silence, staring at me with wide pleading eyes, looking as if their hearts have been ripped out of their chest and stomped on.
Sam’s brows furrow and lips press into a thin line. He stares into the distance, eyes flicking back and forth as he replays the words over and over in his head.
Dean on the other hand stands still as a statue. The only movement is that of his jaw grinding and his fist tightening and loosening repeatedly, itching to punch something, or rather, someone. No matter how much he tries to remain stoic, seemingly unbothered, I can read him from a mile away and all that I see is grief and betrayal.
Castiel stares down at his feet, shoulders slumped, looking disappointed, but not entirely surprised.
A pain radiates off of them in waves that set the room in an abysmal darkness.
I would give anything for the world to swallow me whole right now, put all this miserable business to rest. No matter how hard I try to do the right thing, I always manage to hurt someone I care about in the process.
Maybe that’s just who I am, the girl that destroys everything she touches. Perhaps, Lucifer and I aren’t so different after all.
“Y/N, no,” Sam says in a stern voice, shaking his head in denial.
I avert his gaze, a burning feeling of guilt growing rapidly in my gut. I can feel his disappointing stare burning a hole through my head.
“This isn’t right,” Dean says, grabbing my arm in a desperate attempt to get to me. “Please just come home with me, it’s not too late to change your mind.” His eyes fill with tears ready to spill any moment. “Please,” he pleads, his breaths coming in heavy and uneven.
“I’m sorry Dean.” I place a soft kiss on his cheek, it tastes salty and metallic from the tears and blood that muddle together on his face. I take his hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze, longing to feel his touch one final time.
He closes his eyes, tears breaking free and streaming down his cheeks.
I can’t help the tears that begin to prick my eyes as well. I knew this moment was coming, but I didn’t know it would be so hard.
“I’m so incredibly thankful for our time together,” I say to him. “And everything you all have done for me.” I turn to look at Sam and Cas.
They stare back at me somberly, Sam giving a curt nod, but quickly looking away in an attempt to keep his composure.
“Dean, I love you and I always will, but you have to let me go,” I say with a heavy heart, tenderly pulling my hand away.
He can’t find the words to say it, but with the look he gives me, I can see that he loves me too.
I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. Perhaps a bit of both.
I make my way back to Lucifer, looking up at his stunning crimson eyes.
He tilts his head and stares back at me with a look of pure adoration and love that I can feel deep inside me.
“Every moment of my life has led to you, and I'm done fighting it,” I admit. “I’m yours,” I whisper, placing my hand on his chest.
“I knew you’d make the right choice, my beloved,” Lucifer coo’s. He wraps his silky wings around me and pulls me into a loving kiss, pulling away after a few seconds to give the others a look that says, ‘I win’.
“Sorry boys, the angels made her choice.” He gives them a cocky grin and snaps his fingers.
The three of them are gone in the blink of an eye, leaving just Lucifer and I in the place we call home. The room is trashed from the fight. Shards of broken glass litter the floor, busted furniture strewn around the room, and splatters of blood painting the walls, a grizzly reminder of what had happened here tonight, a memory that will be burned into my mind for the rest of my eternal life.
“What did you do to them?” I snap at him in anger, tired of him hurting my boys.
“Relax, they’re fine,” he insists in a snarky tone. “They’re still in rural Ohio. We’re the ones who’ve moved.”
I make my way to the hole in the wall that once held our front door, it now sits splintered in pieces on the floor.
Lucifer follows close behind.
Stepping outside, I find myself on an empty beach, seemingly untouched by mankind, its natural beauty perfectly preserved. The golden sand sinks beneath my shoes, seashells and tumbled rocks sprinkled all around. The water is a stunning aqua blue with gentle waves of white foam lapping over the calm waters. The sun sets above it all, the reflection of the pinky orange skies painted over the water on the ocean, taking my breath away. This place brings me a sense of peace that makes me want to melt into it all, becoming one with the land.
“What is this place?” I ask, closing my eyes and breathing in the crisp salty air, listening to the waves crash and sea birds sing.
“Somewhere along the coast of South Africa,” he replies, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at me, seemingly not talking about the view at all.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, meeting his gaze with an adoring smile.
“I’m glad you like it, but it’s only temporary,” he replies, fixing his gaze on the setting sun upon the horizon. “I’ve got bigger plans for us.”
“Bigger plans?” I question, taking his hand in mine.
“Of course,” he says as if it’s obvious. “We have an eternity together, the world is our oyster,” he smiles.
“Right,” I nod my head, warming up to the idea of spending the rest of my life with Lucifer, my angel. “Where do we start?” I look at him quizzingly.
“How about here?” he says, pulling me close and crashing our lips together. It’s soft and tender. The electric feeling of our graces blend together, becoming as calm as the ocean waves.
He catches me off guard by sweeping me off my feet and carrying me bridal style. I don’t protest. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder, allowing him to carry me back to our bedroom with ease.
He throws me on the bed and passionately captures me in a kiss. His lips move hungrily against mine, our teeth, tongues, and lips hastily crashing against one another, but we’re too infatuated to care. His cold hand snakes up my body, leaving chills and goosebumps in their wake. It slides under the thin fabric of my shirt until he reaches my breast and tentatively palms me through my bra.
My breath hitches at the feeling of his large hands kneading at my sensitive flesh.
He presses his body firmly against mine, his aching erection in his jeans rubs against my inner thigh, so close to where I need him, yet, so far. His touch becomes more frenzied, trailing to other parts of my body with fervor. Frustrated with the multiple layers of clothes that separate us, he lets out a low growl and snaps his fingers, leaving us both completely naked and pressing against one another. The contrast of his cool skin against mine sends pleasant chills down my spine.
Despite his scruffy looks on the outside, he’s surprisingly muscular under all that clothes. The pale skin of his body perfectly compliments the gold and white tones of his feathers, making him look more ethereal than ever.
It’s my understanding that this isn’t his true form. That he’s simply occupying a human vessel. But there’s no doubt that the vessel he chose is certainly well endowed, to the extent it’s rather intimidating.
“L-lucifer!” I yelp, suddenly feeling all too exposed.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he gives me a wicked smile and licks a long stripe up my neck with his forked tongue.
I lean my head back into the pillow, my body aching with need and my worries fading to black.
He finds a certain spot on the base of my neck that makes me whine from the sensitivity. He smirks. This is exactly what he was looking for. He bites down hard, his pointy teeth breaking my soft skin with ease.
“Fuck,” I hiss, trying to wiggle away from the sensation. My brain has gone offline, unsure whether it hurts too much or if it feels so good I crave more. Ultimately, I give into the latter, craning my neck to the side to give him better access.
He happily obliges, lightly kissing my neck around the bite where drops of crimson roll down to my collarbone. He peeks his forked tongue out of his teeth, then licks all of the blood that dribbles freely, cleaning my skin until all that is left behind is a pinky sheen from his saliva mixed with the remnants of my blood.
Part of me hopes that it will scar.
He lifts his head and captures my lips in a fiery kiss, forcing his tongue into my mouth. His cool tongue swirls around mine forcefully, pinning it down and proving who exactly is in charge here.
I moan as the rich metallic taste of blood dances across my tastebuds, a rush of exhilaration coursing through my veins.
Once Lucifer is satisfied, he pulls back, his eyes falling to my puffy pink lips, still wet from the saliva of our tongues clashing together. He quickly makes his way down to my breasts, pulling at my nipples until they’re perky, leaving sloppy kisses and light bites on each one of them. He continues to work his way down until he reaches my thighs, masterfully kneading my flesh in his hands.
“Say the words and I’ll stop,” Lucifer says in full seriousness. “Or, submit to me and I’ll show you what it’s like to be taken by the most powerful archangel.” A smile tugs at his lips as he gazes at me with dark lustful eyes.
I return his gaze and give him a nod. “Please,” is all I can manage to say, my mind clouded with lust.
He wastes no time and wraps his forearms against my thighs, pulling me closer so that I may not wiggle away.
I’m left totally and completely at his mercy.
He wets his lips with his long forked tongue, making me wetter at just the sight and dives in.
I whine as his tongue slowly and lightly drags from just above my clit, all the way down to my aching hole, teasing my body ever so slightly. My hips involuntarily arch off the bed, desperate to feel more.
He doesn’t take kindly to my squirming and slams my hips down onto the mattress, pinning me in place with one of his strong forearms, the other wrapping around my neck and squeezing slightly. He’s very careful not to hurt me. If he wished too, he could snap my neck like a twig, right here, right now. Instead, he squeezes just light enough to restrict my oxygen and make my head go fuzzy, but still allow me to breathe.
His tongue runs circles over my clit, sending wave after wave of arousal to my core. I can practically feel myself dripping onto the satin sheets of our bed. Each split end of his tongue explores both sides of me at once, driving me crazy in ways I can’t explain, and he’s clearly enjoying the power he has over me, how he can make me into a mess with such ease.
“Luce, Luuuuuce,” I whine desperately, barely able to recognise my own voice. I squeeze down around nothing, my body craving to be filled by Lucifer in any way possible. I just need something.
Of course he picks up on this, exploiting our connection, and knows just what to do. His cold tingly grace creeps up sound my thighs and probes at my entrance.
My eyes snap open and meet his, glowing with passion.
He smirks and his grace slowly pushes into me inch by inch until I'm completely filled to the brim, rubbing against all the sensitive spots that make my mind go blank.
“Oh, fuck!” I yell, clamping down around the feeling, every nerve in my body tingling with pure pleasure and anticipation.
‘Shhh,” he coo’s, watching me intently like I'm some wounded animal in a nature documentary, and he’s the prey playing with his food before he strikes. He pulls his grace out slightly before thrusting back in, earning a deep moan from me. Experimentally, his graces pulses and thrusts in an unpredictable rhythm, leaving me completely unprepared for whatever pleasure he wishes to give me. His tongue returns to my clit, passionately swirling around sending shiver after shiver of arousal through my core.
“Luce, please! I’m gonna!” I moan, my body writhing beneath his tongue and grace. I teeter on the edge of orgasm as he takes my clit fully into his mouth and lightly sucks. “YES!” I scream, ready to let go at any second.
He pulls away with a devious smile before I’m able to fall over the edge.
“NO!” I plead with wide eyes, my body shaking in frustration as the most promising orgasm of my life was ripped away.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk,” he clicks his tongue in a mocking tone. “You’ve been a bad girl today, don’t you think? Running back to the Winchesters, putting yourself in danger,” he says in a voice that parodies concern.
“I’m- I’m sorry Luce, please!” I beg for his forgiveness, giving him the best puppy dog eyes I could muster.
“Hmm…” he says, putting his finger up to his lip and looking at the ceiling, pretending to be lost in thought. “How about this, you be a good girl for me, you don’t cum without my permission, and i’ll think about letting you cum when i’m satisfied with you.”
Before I'm able to form words, he flips me over so that I'm on my knees and forearms, face pressed against the pillow, and my body on full display for him. His rough fingers trails between my wings, down my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake until he reaches my butt.
I hum in appreciation, trying to show my agreement with the plan.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Lucifer taunts. He lands a hard smack on my ass, surely leaving a red handprint in its place.
“Yes Luce!” I squeak, trying to keep my body still for him.
“Good girl,” he praises, striking another smack on my other cheek.
I whimper in response, my eyes glazing over with tears of pain and pleasure.
He makes his way down to my pussy, spreading it open to really admire it. “Of all my fathers creations, you, my dear, are by far the most beautiful.”
My heart swoons at his words.
Once he’s had his share, he runs his fingers over my pussy, gathering up my slick. “All of this because of me, love?” he teases. “You really are a dirty girl.” He plunges two fingers deep inside me, twisting and thrusting perfectly.
A series of moans fall from my mouth that I barely even register. It’s like my mind has gone blank and my body is completely fuzzy in the most pleasant way. Nothing else matters right now. Just Lucifer. Just me. I’m easily able to hold myself from falling off the edge until he reaches a certain spot.
“Ah!” I cry out as his fingers brush against my G-spot ever so slightly. My hips buck against his fingers, my back arching, and my wings stretching out to their full extent. I don’t have to see him to know he has that signature smirk as he watches me moan and writhe from just his fingers.
He finds that angle again and rubs over the spongy spot repeatedly, each time applying more pressure.
I grip the sheets in my hands, my knuckles completely white from gripping it so hard. I clench my muscles and close my eyes, focusing with all of my strength not to come right then and there. “Fuck! I’m gonna!” I warn, trying desperately to fight back the feeling.
“Don’t you dare fucking cum without my permission,” he hisses, grabbing a fistfull of my hair and yanking my head back, his fingers picking up their pace.
Not wanting to feel the wrath of Satan from breaking his rules, I hold back, my whole body shaking with anticipation and overwhelming pleasure.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally removes his fingers, leaving my walls clutching around nothing.
I whine, both frustrated that I didn’t get to cum and happy that I didn’t cum without his permission,
“Good girl,” he praises, running his fingers through my silky wings in a pleasurable way. “I think you’ve earned your reward.”
Without even a warning, he flips me onto my back and slams into me, burying his cock all the way to the hilt.
“Oh God! Feels so good!” I cry out, savoring the pain and pleasure that his thick cock provides me..
“My father has nothing to do with this,” he growls, pulling out almost all the way. “This. is. all. me,” he says, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. “You will be praying to me from now on, do you understand?” His eyes glow red with passion and a drive for power.
“Yes, Lucifer! Anything for you,” I scream, thrusting my hips up to meet his with each stroke.
“You’re mine. All mine. A divine gift from Heaven just for me. My soulmate.” he growls, his pace picking up.
I can feel my orgasm building as each stroke is angled just perfectly to rub against that amazing spot. My grace burns hotter and hotter by the second, reaching out to his cold one, desperate to feel them dance together once again.
He plays my body like a fine tuned instrument, and he’s putting on a symphony.
“Yell my name, tell the world who you belong to, Y/N,” he demands with a particularly harsh stroke that sends shocks of electricity up my spine.
“LUCIFER! I BELONG TO YOU LUCIFER! NO ONE ELSE!” I scream, my throat dry from all the yelling and panting.
“Good girl,” he praises, bringing me into a passionate kiss. His grace tangles with mine, the perfect contrast in feeling bringing me to the edge, taking everything in me not to give myself over to the promising orgasm that calls my name.
He’s close too, I can sense it.
“Cum for me beloved,” he says in a soft voice. He stares intently in my eyes, gripping my wings and twisting the feathers in the way he knows will drive me crazy.
The dam finally breaks and my orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave that pulls me under the water, drowning me in pleasure. My grace explodes outward as he does the same. The lights flicker and the room shakes, both of our eyes glowing a dazzling red. Our grace’s coil together, the electric feeling buzzing from our head to toes. This time when it settles, it doesn’t feel like two separate entities. Instead, it’s like two ends of a wire touching to complete a circuit. it finally feels whole.
Collapsing on top of me, he rolls us to our side and pulls me against his chest, gently running his fingers through my wings. He cuddles me close, holding my head to his chest as we bathe in the afterglow. I listen to his heart beating, enjoying the hum of our graces in harmony, and match my breath to his steady breathing. Everything just feels so right.
How could I ever deny him again? He completes me. We complete each other.
“Y/N?” he asks, pulling me out of my peaceful daze.
“Hm?”
“Don’t ever leave me again,” he says in a calm but possessive voice. “Promise me that, beloved.” He wraps his wings around us like a protective cocoon, his soft feathers pleasantly grazing my bare skin.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I nuzzle my face into his chest, finding comfort in the warmth of his glowing skin. “I promise,” I assure him, closing my eyes in relaxation.
“Good,” he sighs, allowing himself to relax again.
“...I see through it all, you know,” I say, catching him slightly off guard in the sudden change of subject. “You pretend to be this evil wrathful archangel, but you’re not.”
He quietly scoffs at the notion.
“You’re just hurting. Everyone you've ever cared about has left you. Your father. Your brothers. But not me. Even the Devil deserves love. You deserve to be loved, Luce, and I'm going to be the first to show you that.”
He looks at me surprised, never having heard such kind words before. “I love you Y/N,” he says, pulling me closer.
“I love you too Luce.”
For a moment we both sit in comfortable silence.
He stares at the ceiling, like he’s mustering up the courage to say something that’s heavy on his mind. He breaks the silence with a sigh. “I was going to give you more time to adjust, but I just can’t wait anymore.” His eyes meet mine, lighting up with anticipation. “Tomorrow we return to Hell where you will rule by my side.”
“I’m sorry, WHAT?” I snap, sitting up and looking at him with wide eyes, mouth falling agape.
“Well, I’m the King of Hell -new and improved- and naturally, that makes you my Queen,” he says in a tone way too nonchalant for the news he just dropped on me. He smiles, finding my reaction rather amusing.
I think for a moment, sitting in shock. The Queen of Hell? I’m just a girl. I don’t know the first thing about royalty, let alone ruling the forces of Hell. A thousand thoughts run across my mind at once. I ponder the idea for a moment before giving in.
“I accept.”
“Really?” He asks, clearly not expecting that answer.
“Under one condition.”
“Go on…” He says, eagerly waiting to see where I'm taking this.
“You have to stop hurting my people on earth, including the Winchesters. These are my people and I’m going to protect them for as long as I'm kicking.” I lift my head up with determination, ready to fight tooth and nail for my cause.
“A diplomat already? you’ll make a great leader,” he says with a cocky smile. He thinks for a moment and nods. “I accept.”
And with that it’s decided, for better or worse, tomorrow I become royalty.
“So this is Hell?” I ask skeptically, my eyes wandering as we make our way down the winding hall toward a set of large golden doors.
“Part of it, yes.” He walks with one hand in his pocket, the other around my arm.
“It’s not exactly what I was expecting.”
Lucifer glances at me with a cocked eyebrow. “And what exactly were you expecting?”
“I mean, where's all the fire and demons with pitchforks? Shouldn’t there be a lot more screaming?”
Lucifer laughs. “Bit outdated, don't you think?” He chuckles. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the theatrics of traditional torture, but there’s other ways to torment people. We like to keep it creative.” He flashes me crazy eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to the doors we’re rapidly approaching.
“Right…” I chuckle awkwardly, still a bit freaked out about being in Hell of all places. Compared to the demons and sinners that reside here, a goody two-shoes like me sticks out like a sore thumb. I can’t help but feel like an imposter.
“Here we are,” Lucifer says, stopping at the heavy golden doors. Two demons dressed in high end suits stand tall at the doors, holding it open for the both of us and averting their eyes out of respect, or maybe fear.
“Wow,” is all I can say as I enter the room.
The walls go as far up as the eye can see, each section illuminated by stained glass windows with the depiction of Hell's greatest hits - many of which starring Lucifer himself, no doubt to please his ego.
Red light pours through the windows, bathing the room below in a colorful wash of crimson. The walls and floor are made of black obsidian blocks, streaks of red marble decorating them like a battle of bloodshed had just occurred.
Half a dozen demons stand post on either side of the room, so still that they could be mistaken for statues.
And in the middle of it all is an intimidatingly large throne made of pure gold, sculpted to resemble an army of snakes standing high above the room.
“This is incredible, Luce,” I say, turning on my heels to look around in wonder.
“Oh, my love, this is just the beginning, I have so much to show you.”
My eyes light up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
“Buuut, we can start with this,” he motions to a section of the throne room that stands out from the rest.
Along the interior walls is an open room designed specifically for me. There are large bookshelves that tower at least 10 feet in the air with the library of books he had accumulated at the house, my favorite books organized in alphabetical order, as well as a large red velvet chair to read them in.
Hundreds of records line the walls, each of them an album that I've enjoyed at one time or another, some that I'd even forgotten about, accompanied by an old fashioned record player playing a classic that I've listened to a hundred times over; “I came back to let you know, got a thing for you and I can’t let go.” I hum along to the music, swaying my hips ever so slightly as I explore the rest of the area.
Most surprisingly, is a shelf dedicated to hundreds of trinkets from throughout my life. The seashells I collected on my road trip through the west coast. A little clay bird I sculpted as a child and gifted to my mother. The floral porcelain teacup I drank out of religiously as I studied for finals. And even the diamond ring that’s been in my family for ages.
“How- how did you get all this?,” I ask, my eyes sweeping over everything, discovering new clever details and secrets.
“I have my ways,” he says ominously. “I knew you’d like it.” He smiles, puffing his wings out in pride. He takes my hand and guides me to the towering throne. He takes a seat, propping himself in a pose that demands respect, and pulls me onto his lap with ease.
I relax against him, resting my head on his shoulder and crossing my legs. I run my hand over his fingers, mindlessly toying with them as I find myself lost in thought.
“This is so much better with you here. It just feels right,” he says with a satisfied sigh, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to his chest.
“Yeah, surprisingly, it does.”
“Makes you wonder if this was God’s plan all along?” He smirks. “That old bastard finally did something right.”
“He does work in mysterious ways,” I chuckle, having that lesson slammed in my face over the past few months of my life. I snuggle into his chest with little care for what the demons may think, it would be a deathwish for them to even look my way without permission.
“This calls for a celebratory drink, don’t you think?” He winks. Putting his fingers up to his mouth, he whistles so loud that it leaves my ears ringing.
After a few moments a stocky man begrudgingly walks into the room carrying a tray of drinks. He has short dark hair and well groomed facial hair that suits his jaw nicely. He wears an all black suit with a gray tie and a look on his face that screams ‘I’d rather be anywhere but here’. He stops in front of the throne, squinting his eyes and sending Lucifer a glare that could kill, but he doesn’t dare step out of line.
Lucifer beckons with two fingers, motioning for the man to step closer and hand out the two fancy glasses of amber liquid.
He clenches his jaw, but reluctantly hands Lucifer his drink. His face is flushed a light shade of red, practically fuming with anger and humiliation.
“Good puppy,” Lucifer snarks with a devious smile.
The man looks like he’s fighting the urge to strangle Lucifer with his bare hands but decides against it, as anyone who values their life would. He hands me my glass with less anger, looking more intrigued with me than anything.
“Thank you…?” I give him a questioning look, waiting for him to introduce himself.
“Crowley,” he states, straightening his posture and giving me an enchanting look. “At your service, my dear.” He takes my hand and lightly kisses the back of it. There’s a sort of charm to him I can’t explain.
I smile back politely, happy that I may have a new friend in this dreary place.
“That’s enough of that,” Lucifer sighs, and with the flick of his wrist the man goes flying across the room, hitting the wall with a loud smack. Blood drips from the back of his head, but it doesn’t seem to phase him much.
“Lucifer!” I scold him, lightly hitting him on the chest.
“Don’t mind him, he’s still in training.” He rolls his eyes and continues our conversation like he hadn’t just hurled someone across the room.
“This is too us.” He lifts his glass in a toast. “To eternity.”
“To eternity,” I repeat, clinking our glasses together with a smile.
When Y/N must make a choice, she chooses to defy her fate and be with Dean Winchester. After a steamy exchange and a heartfelt apology, she’s ready to start the rest of her life with the Winchesters and their beloved angel.
(5.5k)
TW: this chapter contains smut (and my first attempt, at that)
“It’s my choice, and I choose… Dean.”
His eyes light up as he looks at me in disbelief, as if this was all some dream he would wake up from any minute.
“How… how could you?” Lucifer stares at me in despair, his lip quivering ever so slightly. His wings frill out, feathers standing tall like that of a cat about to pounce.
“Luce…” I look at him ashamed. I can physically feel his pain inside of me, the growing storm that tears him apart from the inside like an unstoppable tsunami. The boy who’s never felt love before until I came along, the boy who’s lost everything, and now, he’s lost me too.
“I love you!” He declares, shaking with anger and eyes glaring a frightful red. The room starts to rumble, lights flickering, and books flying off of shelves.
“If you truly love me, you’ll let me go.” I pull him into one last hug. The feeling of electricity burns between us, but this time it isn’t passionate and loving, it feels painful and unstable, ready to explode at the drop of a pin.
He shakes his head in defiance, “He’s human, he’ll die, and in the end, you’ll always come back to me,” he growls, pulling me as close as possible, scared to ever let go.
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to my level, our noses touching. His red eyes gaze into mine, glazed with tears. I place a soft kiss on his lips, one last reminder of our love.
“Goodbye Luce,” I whisper. I slowly pull away, turning to Dean, Sam, and Castiel, all of them a bloody mess, but looking pleased with my decision. As I pull away, he desperately grabs my hand tight, turning me around to face him.
“I’ll never stop looking for you,” he says, his voice broken and shaky.
“Then I guess I’ll see you around.” I smile softly.
His wings hang limply at his side in defeat. He reluctantly lets my hand go and it drops by my side, the fuzzy feeling fizzling away.
Sam gives Castiel a questioning look, which he returns with a curt nod, before slamming his bloody hand onto the Enochian sigil he smeared on the wall. There’s a bright white flashing light that fills every inch of the room, similar to what I imagine the surface of the sun is like.
I cover my eyes with my forearm, to keep myself from going blind. I hear Lucifer yell behind me, and a burning feeling builds in my chest, the feeling runs through all my veins but passes within a matter of seconds, all that’s left is an unpleasant high pitched ringing noise.
“What the Hell was that?” I whip my head around to face Sam and Dean, looking at me relieved.
“An Enochian sigil, it temporarily banishes angels out of range,” Sam replies, quickly wiping his bloody palm off on his scuffed up jeans. The red smear blends in with the rest of the bloodstains caked on his clothes.
I look around the now much emptier room to find that both Castiel and Lucifer are nowhere to be seen. “What about Cas?”
“Cas is fine,” Dean assures me. “He’ll find his way home. He always does,” he chuckles, but immediately regrets it, clutching at his ribs.
I rush to his side, tentatively wrapping an arm around his shoulder to help him balance. He’s in bad shape.
“Thanks Y/N/N.” He gives me a genuine smile, showing off his blood stained teeth, and wraps his hand around my waist.
I snuggle up close, our bodies pressed up against one another and I can feel him relax just a little. “Wait,” my face scrunches up in confusion, my body going stiff, “I’m half angel. How did you know that I wasn’t going to be banished as well?” I shoot them a skeptical look.
Sam took in a sharp inhale through his teeth, glancing at Dean awkwardly. “Yeah, well we didn’t, not exactly,” Sam says, stumbling through his words.
“It was a fifty-fifty shot.” Dean shrugs, then looks at me with a cocky smile.
I roll my eyes. “It’s good to be back,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Let’s go home.” I smile, carefully walking Dean out the door.
I take one last look at the house behind me that now holds memories, both good and bad. I mentally say goodbye to both the house and Lucifer. This won't be the end, that I’m sure of, but for now I get to live the life I so desperately crave.
The door opens with a creak and I help Dean shuffle into the back of the impala, he winces as he settles in his seat. The blood from his wounds and clothes smear the leather. He looks at it in dismay, but decides to wave it off for the time being. Bigger fish to fry, and all that.
Sam takes his seat behind the wheel, adjusting the mirrors to allow his tall form to see properly. Dean is by no means short, but compared to his younger brother, he could very well be a hobbit.
I slide in next to Dean in the backseat. Given that his old 67’ Chevy Impala has no seatbelts, he’s in no shape to be back here alone. Someone has to keep his ass from being tossed around at every bump and curve. As much as he tries to hide his pain, I can tell that even just breathing is excruciating for him.
I pull him in close, wrapping my wing around his back. He rests his head on my shoulder. I can feel the soft puffs of air tickling my neck each time he exhales, it’s calming and I allow myself to relax knowing that Dean Winchester is safe by my side.
The rest of the drive is calm and silent. Not a bad silence that leaves you feeling on edge, but a comfortable silence that we all seem to melt into, knowing that everything is going to be okay.
“Hold still, I’m almost done.” I bite the tip of my tongue as I focus on carefully stitching up the cuts along his arms where shards of broken glass had sliced him in Lucifer's rage. I’m an amateur at this, never had to hand stitch a wound before in my life, but Sam insisted that Dean and I have some ‘alone time’.
“In… and out,” I mutter to myself, dragging the curved needle through one edge of the flayed skin to the other, not unlike the countless times I've had to stitch up holes in my clothing. “And… done!” I chirp, tying off the end of the thread into a neat little knot. I smile, quite pleased with my work.
“Thanks doc, feeling better already.” Dean gives a chuckle that turns into a wheeze. He tries to stand from his spot on the edge of the bed, clutching at his broken ribs in pain.
“Not so fast, hotshot.” I gently guide him back down onto the bed and kneel at his feet, inspecting his abdomen for the full extent of the damage. I carefully press two fingers to his lower ribs, leaving feather light touches to the tender area. I can feel the edges of a broken bone poking under the skin.
He winces at my touch, sucking in a tense breath. His face twists up in pain with each movement of my hand.
“He got you pretty bad, huh?” I tilt my head, moving my hand to the other side of his ribs.
“Eh, I've had worse.” He shrugs, trying to remain stoic.
“I’m gonna try something,” I mutter, not entirely sure if I'm talking to him or myself.
His eyes snap open, meeting mine in panic. “You’re gonna wh-”
“Breath in,” I say, cutting him off. Before he has the chance to protest. I close my eyes and picture his ribs mending back into place. The warm buzzing feeling builds in my stomach and flows through my veins, and in a matter of seconds the sound of bones popping rings out.
“SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yells, fisting the bed sheets so hard the threads loosen under his grip. His breaths come out labored, but his ribs are completely healed, the purple bruises disappearing like they were never even there to begin with.
“See? You’re fine, you big baby.” I smile and pat him on the shoulder, happy that my test run had worked.
He looks at me through furrowed brows, clearly annoyed, but his face softens into an appreciative look. I push myself to my feet and shuffle into the bathroom. I fill a bowl with warm soapy water, grab a white fluffy towel, and return to the room, this time taking a seat next to Dean on the side of the bed.
“Thank you,” Dean says, inspecting his now perfectly healed ribs.
I give him a polite smile and nod. I dip the towel in the bowl, soaking up the warm water and carefully dab it on his chest, where the majority of blood stains his skin. Carefully, I clean his skin inch by inch, taking my time to make each muscle glisten under the soft bedroom lights. I can’t help the grin that tugs on my lips. Something about Dean is so intoxicating and his body is reminiscent of an ancient greek marble sculpture, chiseled to perfection.
He hums in appreciation, occasionally turning his arms and chest to give me better access to the more difficult to reach areas.
I mindlessly work my way up until I reach his stunning face. His mouth and chin are still coated in a layer of dried blood from coughing it up relentlessly only an hour ago. A bold idea flashes across my mind and in my second of bravery, I move my knees on either side of him, essentially straddling his lap. Our eyes lock and there’s a spark there that burns bright, an unspoken longing for one another. I lift the towel to his face, gently dabbing the blood off his stubbly chin.
His dazzling green eyes stare at me in wonder and disbelief, like he couldn’t comprehend that this is all really happening.
“I’m here Dean. I’m real,” I assure him with a soft smile.
His hand tentatively reaches up to cup my face, his calloused thumb caressing the apple of my cheek, the skin flushing a rosy pink.
I lean into his touch and move the towel to his lips. I carefully dab each of his chapped and bloody lips until they’re clean, restoring them to their plump, pink nature. I can’t peel my eyes away from admiring just how enticing they truly are. I break away from his hold, suddenly feeling ashamed.
“I’m sorry Dean.” I let out a long sigh, averting his gaze and staring at my lap.
He looks at me puzzled.
“For everything - the fight, turning myself in, Lucifer, all of it…” I sniffle, tears burning my eyes. “I’m just so sorry.”
“Hey, look at me,” he says in a calm, but stern voice. He takes my chin in his fingers, lifting my head up to look him in the eyes. “It’s okay, all of it.” He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry too. I said - I did some things I regret. Every moment we spent searching for you, all I could think was the terrible things I said and how it might be the last thing you ever heard from me. It was tearing me up inside,” he admits.
“Dean-” I say with a sense of guilt.
“Don’t,” he cuts me off before I can even start. “All I'm saying is, it's okay. Let’s call it a fresh start for both of us.” He gives me a reassuring smile.
I nod, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulder. My wings relax, much of the tension relieved from my muscles.
“So… where do we go from here?” Dean asks, lifting his eyebrow in question.
“Well, if you’ll have me.” I swallow down my anxiety and force myself to spit it out. “I want to stay here… with you.”
Dean’s eyes light up like a kid at Disney World.
“I love you Dean Winchester,” I blurt out before I have the chance to talk myself out of it.
He blinks rapidly like he’s just hearing things. “You- you really mean that?” He asks with a heavy heart.
“More than anything.” I lean in so close that I can feel his breath on my lips.
“What about Lucifer? I mean, aren’t you his soulmate?” He says, trying to hide his scowl at the words coming out of his mouth.
“Screw fate, we make our own destiny,” I say in a breathy laugh.
“God I love you so much,” he says, colliding our lips together.
The kiss is soft, our lips slowly moving in sync, exploring these new feelings together. My heart swoons. Immediately I crave more. I lean into the feeling, deepening the kiss with a needy moan. I throw my arms around his shoulders, a hand trailing up his neck and tangling in his dirty blonde hair. I tug on it lightly and he groans in my mouth. I smile against his lips, pleased with his reaction.
He tentatively swipes his tongue along my bottom lip, silently asking permission for entry.
I happily comply, opening my mouth just wide enough to give him full access.
Without hesitation, he pushes his tongue in my mouth, exploring every inch of it until he has it memorized like the back of his hand. He tastes like whiskey and cherry pie with a hint of blood, a taste I just can’t get enough of. His tongue finds mine and they tangle together in a fight for dominance, a fight that ultimately I win.
I bite his lip, the faint taste of copper lingering behind and pull away for just a second to push him down on the bed.
He looks at me surprised with my sudden show of dominance, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He props himself up on his elbows, his eyes drinking in every inch of my body, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.
How is it possible to be this fucking perfect? Dean Winchester is truly a gift from the gods.
I flash him a playful smile and experimentally grind down on his lap. His already hardening cock rubs deliciously against my sex. My wings quiver in pleasure. I can't stop the quiet moan that falls from my lips as he lightly thrusts up against me, the head of his cock brushing against my clit in the most perfect way. What I wouldn’t give to feel him without those pesky jeans in the way.
“Fuck baby,” he groans, tossing his head and screwing his eyes closed. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he says in a low husky voice.
I lean down, pressing our bodies together and resting my forearms on either side of his head, trapping him in this position, not that either one of us would ever want to leave.
He gazes at me through lidded eyes, his pupils blown so wide that nearly all of the dazzling green from his irises recedes into the black abyss.
“Then show me,” I seductively whisper in his ear, grinding my hips down again, earning a whimper from him.
This flips a switch in Dean. He grabs my hips possessively and pulls me upright on his lap.
“Off,” he commands in a dominant tone, tapping my hip with his fingers.
I waste no time and do as he says without question. First, I remove my shirt in one swift motion and unclip my bra, tossing them over my shoulder without care for the mess I leave behind. Then, I shuffle to my feet and wiggle out of my jeans, they pool around my feet and I kick them to the side, leaving me in just my underwear. I suddenly feel a bit self conscious and wrap my wings around my chest, concealing the most intimate parts of me.
“Don’t,” Dean says, gently grasping the flight feathers of my wings and moving them to the side. “You’re beautiful.” His eyes lovingly trail over my completely exposed body. He admires me like he’s watching the sun set for the very first time.
I blush profusely, hearing those words come out of his mouth does something to me, my heart flutters. Part of me believes that this isn’t even real, that this is just some dream I'm bound to wake up from and I’ll still be trapped in Lucifer’s bed. I mean, how could someone as perfect as Dean Winchester think so highly of me?
“I mean it Y/N, you’re the most beautiful creature i’ve ever seen,” he says in full seriousness, his eyes filled with adoration. He stands from the bed and strides over to me. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses me passionately.
I melt into the kiss, my legs turning into jello. I can’t help but lose myself in the feeling, swimming around in the love and lust building in my chest.
He reluctantly pulls away for air, both of us struggling to catch our breath. Leaning in close, he peppers my jaw with kisses, slowly moving down to my neck.
I lean my head to the side, giving him better access, desperately needing more.
He trails the kisses down to the base of my neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. He sucks on the spot, eliciting an involuntary moan from me.
I gasp as he bites down, just light enough to not break the skin, but hard enough to hurt, followed by soft licks and kisses to soothe the pain. Surely it will leave a hickey on my neck, a subtle reminder of who I belong to now, who I’ve chosen to give all of my love to.
He hums as he pulls away, smiling as he admires his work. “Go lie down and spread your legs for me, okay sweetheart?” He asks in his deep husky voice, squeezing my hip assuringly.
I nod, unable to form words at the moment. That voice has always had a certain effect on me, but hearing him say those words to me leaves me practically dripping for him. I settle into the middle of the bed, resting my head on the soft pillows below. I turn to my right to watch him strip out of his clothes one piece at a time, never breaking eye contact with me.
Once he’s completely stripped of his flannel and denim, he slowly crawls onto bed and I let my legs fall open, exposing my black lacy panties to him.
“Good girl,” he coos, placing his forearms on either side of my body and capturing my lips in a hungry kiss.
I whimper into his mouth, his praise going right to my core.
He breaks away and resumes his passionate kisses on the base of my neck, slowly working his way down to my collar bone. Once he reaches my breasts, he looks me in the eye, his gaze full of lust, and twirls his tongue around my perky nipple.
I throw my head against the pillow and arch my back, savoring the feeling.
He wraps his warm mouth around it, lightly sucking and continuing to tease me with his tongue. He gives experimental nips and bites, keeping intense eye contact, gauging for my reactions. His hand finds my other breast and gives it a sensual squeeze. He gently rolls my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying just the right pressure.
“Mmm,” I hum in pleasure.
Once he’s had his fill, he kisses his way down my ribs and stomach until he reaches where I need him most. Looking at me with hungry eyes, he places a soft kiss on the inside of my thighs with a sly smile.
My breath hitches as he places a soft kiss on my clit through the thin fabric of my panties, so gentle that he’s barely touching me, but nevertheless it sends shivers of pleasure down my spine.
“Deeean…” I whine. I open my legs wider, wanting, no, needing him to do more.
“Shh, let me take care of you baby,” he coos in a hushed tone. He loops his fingers under the fabric and slowly slips my panties down, tossing them to the side. He admires my glistening pussy for a minute, studying it like he's preparing for an exam. His eyes flick up to meet mine, blown wide with lust.
I lift my hips up an inch off the bed, silently pleading for him to touch me, but he doesn’t give in until he’s had his share of admiring me like it’s the last time he’ll ever see me.
Once he’s ready, he lightly runs his finger down my slit, making me jump at the contact. He gathers up the slick, rubbing it between his thumb and pointer finger. “So wet already,” he teases, inspecting his fingers. “All this for me?” He smiles deviously.
I nod bashfully, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
He stares at me intently and brings his fingers to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, humming as he tastes my wetness. He doesn’t stop until his fingers are completely clean of my arousal, savoring every last drop like it’s his last drink of water.
“Fuck baby, your taste is so god damn addicting.” He smirks. Without giving me time to respond he leans in and runs the tip of his tongue down my dripping pussy.
I whimper as his tongue brushes over my sensitive clit, my hips involuntarily bucking onto his face, but nothing could prepare me for what comes next.
He slowly traces down further, circling my hole with his tongue before pushing it in in one swift movement. He grabs my thighs, spreading them further as he moves his tongue in and out, fucking me relentlessly, flawlessly maintaining eye contact the whole time.
I grab the bedsheets with fisted hands, holding on for dear life, little whimpers spilling from my mouth, one after the other. A warm sensation builds in the pit of my stomach, growing stronger with every thrust of his tongue. God, what this man could do with his mouth is almost inhuman.
He hums in appreciation as he feels my walls growing tighter. He knows I'm close and he’s loving every second of it. He moves his tongue, running it up my slit until he reaches my sensitive clit. He swirls his tongue around it, taking the bud in his mouth and sucking lightly.
“Fuck,” I moan, as he sends me over the edge into an intense orgasm. The warm sensation of pleasure spreads through me like fireworks. I throw my head back, my wings stretching out as far as the bed will allow.
“That’s it,” he coos, admiring every twitch of my body and wings. “You’re doing so good for me sweetheart.”
“Deeeeeeean,” I moan as he helps me ride out the last waves of my orgasm.
He chuckles, pulling away and wiping my cum off his chin with the back of his hand. He pounces on me, kisses me roughly, shoving his tongue in my mouth. I taste my juices still on his lips, the flavors of me and him mixing together like the most intoxicating cocktail. He caresses my body with soft touches until I come down from my high. His rock hard erection presses against my belly, pre cum dripping from his slit.
“You think you can handle more?” He says in a gruff voice, looking at me with lustful eyes. “Think you can handle taking my cock?” he teases with a sly grin, taking himself in his hand and giving a few good strokes.
I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and pull him close. “Dean WInchester, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will murder everyone in this bunker,” I snap, returning his gaze with an intense passion.
His eyes widen in surprise, “You got it princess.” He chuckles.
He lines his cock up with my entrance until his head is just barely poking in. He looks at me in full seriousness, waiting for my consent.
I nod, desperately needing to feel him inside me.
He pushes in slowly, going inch by inch until he’s fully bottomed out inside me, filling me up so deliciously, our hips grinding against one another.
My back arches off the bed in ecstasy. He’s much bigger than I expected, his thickness filling every part of me better than any man I've ever had.
He stops, giving me time to adjust.
It burns for a moment but quickly fades into pleasure.
“Fuck baby, so tight,” he groans, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss.
“Dean, I need you to move,” I beg against his lips, clutching onto his broad shoulders, slick sweat already clinging to his peppered skin.
He pulls out halfway before slamming back into me, sending shocks of pleasure through my core, every nerve in my body firing all at once.
“Ah!” I moan far too loud. I smack my hand over my lips, terribly embarrassed at the sound that just came out of my mouth.
“No,” Dean commands, removing my hand from my mouth and pinning it above my head. “Let me hear those pretty little noises, sweetheart,” he growls in my ear seductively, fanning the fire inside me. He relentlessly pounds into me, his cock flawlessly dragging against the spot that drives me crazy.
I become a moaning, writhing mess underneath him, drunk on pleasure. My hips enthusiastically meet his with every thrust. An idea crosses my mind and I decide to put it to the test. I close my eyes and picture my grace wrapping around his cock and squeezing ever so slightly.
“Oh!” Dean moans out, his breath hitches and eyebrows furrow together. “What the fuck was that?” He looks at me bewildered.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, my voice laced with concern.
“God no, never stop.” He leans his head against my neck, leaving sloppy kisses along the sensitive skin, swiping his tongue over the bite mark.
I focus on working my warm buzzing grace over him, my strokes building up from soft and slow to intense and passionate. I feel the warm sensation twirling around inside of me as well, bringing us both to new heights.
He removes his hand from my wrist and slowly trails it down to my wing, caressing it ever so slightly.
I give him a questioning look before he grabs a handful of my silky feathers and gently tugs on them.
“FUCK!” I scream, the pleasure radiating from my wings almost unbearable. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I temporarily lose my grip on reality. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?” I ask, panting through the intense sensations.
“Cas may have mentioned it to me at one point or another.” He winks, clearly pleased with how effective it is.
I make a mental note to have a word with Cas about this later, but I'm pulled out of my thoughts by another tug and a particularly deep thrust.
“Please don’t stop,” I whimper desperately.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart” He pants, keeping his fingers buried in my wings. He picks up his pace, relentlessly fucking me into the matress, flawlessly hitting my G spot with every stroke.
My mind goes blank, the only thing I can focus on is the building sensation in my core filling me with pleasure at an intensity I've never experienced before. It’s a bit intimidating, but incredibly arousing. I don’t even notice the string of expletives mixed with the repeated moaning of his name that falls from my mouth.
I’ve had good sex before, but this? This is different. This is the kind of sex that ruins it for anyone else, not that I'll ever want to have sex with anyone but Dean Winchester ever again.
“Dean, fuck!... I’m gonna,” I stutter the words out as the warm feeling inside me builds hotter than ever before.
“Me too… cum for me baby, cum on my cock Y/N,” he groans in my ear. He gives my wings a harder tug and with one last deep stroke, it’s all over.
I scream as I cum on his cock, my orgasm ripping through me. My walls clamp down on him, wings fluttering against the sheets. My grace explodes, surging through us both, sending an intense electric feeling from head to toe.
“I love you so much, Y/N,” he moans as he cums inside me, the warm liquid filling me up.
“I love you too Dean,” I pant, my heart beating a million times a second.
“Never leave me again.” He looks me in the eye with full seriousness, searching my face for any sign of regret.
“Never,” I reply with a smile.
He collapse on top of me, and for just a moment, we become one. Love in perfect harmony.
“He’s right, you know,” Dean says, tracing soft shapes with his finger on the skin of my sternum as we cuddle.
“Hm?” I question in a far out voice, still bathing in the afterglow.
“I won’t live forever, not like you.” He leans his head against my shoulder, draping his arm over me and pulling me close.
“I don’t care. It just makes every moment with you more precious.” I wrap my wings around him and place a soft kiss on the top of his head, his hair still damp with sweat.
He nods and weakly smiles against my skin, but I can feel his lingering doubt.
“Look at me Dean.” I take his chin in my hand and direct him to look at me, his doe eyes full of hope. “Nothing would make me happier than being by your side as you grow old, loving you until your dying days.” I give him a bittersweet smile, pulling him even closer.
“I love you, Y/N,” he says, pressing a soft kiss against my lips, seemingly satisfied with my answer.
“I love you too, Dean,” I coo, returning his kiss with passion.
-------------------------
“To Y/N!” Dean cheers, lifting his glass to a toast.
“To Y/N!” Sam repeats with a smile.
Our glasses clink together, drops of whiskey spilling over the edges onto the worn wood of the library table.
“Welcome home,” Sam says, taking a swig of his drink, trying to hide the cringe on his face as the whiskey burns his throat.
“It’s good to be home,” I reply with a grin. I take a sip of my own, not how I usually would, gulping it down with haste. Instead, I gingerly take a small sip, savoring the flavor of my beloved Jack Daniels Whiskey like I have all the time in the world, because I do. I smile at the thought.
“Hello,” a familiar deep voice says from behind me.
I turn around in my chair to find Castiel standing no more than a foot away, clearly still having no regard for personal space since I left, not that I mind.
His crystal blue eyes fall on me, looking very happy to see me again.
I greet him in Enochian with an enthusiastic wave. For weeks I've been working on the pronunciation of ‘hello friend’ in Enochian, praying I'd have the chance to show Cas someday, a little piece of hope that kept me going since I left.
Castiel smiles wider than I've ever seen, breaking the usual stoic look he wears on his face. “I’m very impressed,” he praises, pulling me into a tight hug. His bloodied clothes are still sticky and wet, but that doesn’t matter at all right now, I'm just happy to be back by his side.
The brothers are taken aback, clearly surprised at the sudden affection from their usually distant angel.
“It’s good to see you again, Y/N.” He pulls away, flattening out his crinkled trench coat. “Sam, Dean,” he greets them both with a smile.
“So, what now?” Dean asks, lifting his brow and glancing around at us, his finger dancing along the rim of the glass.
“I want you to train me to be a hunter,” I say sweetly, fixing my posture and displaying my wings proudly.
“A hunter, huh?” Dean says, looking amused.
I nod, excited at the notion.
“A half angel would make one hell of a hunter,” Sam laughs, taking another swig of his drink.
“I’d be happy to assist you in honing your powers,” Cas pitches in.
“Let's get started,” I smile, finally feeling complete for once in my life.
When Sam, Dean, and Cas track down Y/N and Lucifer, there is an all-out battle that results in Y/N having to make the ultimate decision. Will she accept her fate and choose Lucifer? Or will she create her own destiny and choose Dean?
(4.4k)
The days with Lucifer fly by. Counting the cycles from day to night, I believe I've been here for about 3 weeks, but it feels like I've spent my whole life with him. Each day holds another exciting adventure that’s designed to keep me happy and busy. He’s created amusement parks, animal sanctuaries, extravagant balls, and fancy dinners, even taking me to my favorite plays and movies, all created out of thin air with the snap of his fingers.
It’s been incredible. Truly something out of a fairytale. But everywhere we go, it’s just him and me, Lucifer and I, the rest of the world be damned. I’m not dumb, I know he’s doing this to keep me isolated and safe from anyone that may want to steal me away.
“I have a lot of enemies.” He grabs my shoulders and looks at me in full seriousness. “Many powerful people that will use you to get to me. But I promise you this, I will never let anyone hurt you. Not now. Not ever,” he explains, confirming my suspicions.
I have no doubt that’s true. What better way to hurt the Devil than threatening the one thing in this world he loves, his Achilles heel, and God help anyone that dares come between us. But, I suspect he has ulterior motives as well, primarily keeping me from the Winchesters and their pocket angel. I can tell that he’s on edge, always glancing at the door, obsessively checking that each sigil is still intact, just waiting for them to burst in guns blazing.
The house is secure, located in the middle of nowhere, and sigiled to high Hell. He’s careful. No one knows where we are, not even me. The odds of them ever finding this place are slim to nothing, that is if they’re even looking for me at all. The thought crushes me, feeling as if a little part of me has curled up and died.
I wonder where they are, what they’re doing, which monster they are hunting down this week, but most of all, if they miss me. I know it’s selfish of me to think that way. I put them through Hell, especially Cas, and they’re better off far, far, away from me.
Nevertheless, I've been practicing the demon exorcism Sam had taught me. I’ve got it down to a T, memorized every word and perfected each pronunciation. I'm ready for any demons that may cross my path. I can just picture the cheery smile on Sam’s face and the way he would squeeze my shoulder to show how proud of me he is.
I’ve even picked up my lessons in Enochian. I doubt Castiel would approve of my methods, but Lucifer has continued where he left off. He was surprised when I asked him, but happy to teach me the basic alphabet and meaning of the simple symbols. I’m still a novice, barely even able to decipher the simplest of writing, but I’m getting better by the day. I dream of seeing Castiel again one day and greeting him in Enochian. The surprised look on his face would be priceless and his kind smile would warm my heart.
Despite the wonderful time I’ve spent with Lucifer, how close we’ve grown, how much I truly adore him now, I miss my family… I miss Dean. The ghost of him lives in my mind. I keep expecting to wake up in the Bunker and see him in the kitchen drinking a beer and going to town on a tower of bacon. I miss his musky cologne and comfy flannels that are way too big for me but feel so right. I miss the way he would hold me at night and whisper that everything will be okay. My heart yearns for him, more than I thought possible. After the way things ended, the big fight that resulted in him storming out, the rage that burned in his eyes, I doubt that he would ever want to see me again.
“It’s for the best,” I keep reminding myself, trying to quell the feelings that seem to grow stronger with each moment that passes.
Lucifer knows. Despite how hard I try to hide my pain, he’s not oblivious, and the deep connection that we share sure doesn’t help.
“Y/N?” Lucifer asks, hugging me from behind, pulling me to his chest and resting his head on my shoulder like he often does.
“Yes, Luce?” I lean back into his chest.
“Somethings bothering you,” he states matter-of-factly, “talk to me.”
“It’s nothing,” I attempt to ease his suspicion, but it comes out less than convincing.
Uneasy silence hangs in the air as he thinks of what to say.
“Dean could never love you like this, you know.” He gently brushes my hair away from my neck and places a series of soft kisses from my jaw to my shoulder.
I freeze, turning rigid as a board. Hearing those words come from his mouth, it feels like the wind is knocked out of me. “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about Luce,” I laugh nervously, trying to brush off his suspicion.
“Yes, you do.”
A sinking feeling drops in my stomach, and I close my eyes, preparing myself for where this dangerous conversation may lead. As much as I adore Lucifer, he is anything but predictable.
“A little birdy told me what you and Dean have been up to.” He grits his teeth, trying to control his temper.
“A little birdy being you spying on me?” I bite back defensively.
“Besides the point.” He pulls me in even tighter, perhaps scared that I'll flee at any moment. “I know that you have feelings for that insolent human… I know that you miss him,” he says bitterly, face scrunching up in disdain. “Do you really think he misses you?” He snaps, knowing that it will cut deep.
“Luce…” I whisper, my voice trembling. It’s a thought that’s crossed my mind a million times before, a thought I can’t seem to shake.
“Y/N,” he spins me around to face him, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes comb over my face like he’s admiring a work of art.
“I’m going to show what it truly means to feel love.” He takes a deep breath. “I promise you that in due time, these feelings you have for that… Winchester,” he says in disgust, “will be a thing of the past. The only person you will crave is me.” He pulls me into a deep and passionate kiss. It’s not angry and possessive like I expected, but rather tender and loving.
I pull away, my lips puffy and cheeks flushed.
“He will never touch you again, do you understand?” He growls, his eyes flash a bright crimson red for a moment, before returning to their usual state. He wraps his magnificent wings around me in a protective manner, the silky feather brushing against my bare arms.
“Yes Luce.” I nod and rest my head against his chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat brings me a sense of peace and safety. Part of me wants to believe him. Part of me wants to forget the feelings I have for Dean Winchester and spend the rest of eternity with the angel fate has decided I’m meant to be with. But the other part of me wants to say, “Fuck fate,” and run into his arms, reuniting with the man I hold so dear. A storm of conflict brews ever stronger inside of me.
“I want you to focus, I mean really focus,” Lucifer says, encouraging me.
I hold my hand out in front me, just a few feet away from the fireplace. I can feel the heat licking my palm. I screw my eyes shut and pour all my mental force into the flame that flickers weakly from the charred-up logs. My brows furrow and a bead of sweat runs down my face. I give it my all, but still, nothing comes.
“Ugh! This is useless!” I groan, dropping my hand down by my side in defeat. “Maybe I just don’t have grace abilities like you.” My mood fades from frustration into sadness, wings wilting pathetically.
“You think Rome was built in one day?” He replies sarcastically. “I’ve had millennia to perfect my grace, you just need some more practice.”
I shoot him a dirty look, but eventually nod my head in understanding.
“Now,” he clears his throat and steps closer until his chest is pressed against my back, the tingly feeling returning. “Spread your feet apart.” He kicks my shoes with his boot until they’re about a foot apart in distance, giving me better balance. “Hold your hand out. Stiffen your arm.” He lifts my arm into place, intertwining his fingers in mine and holding my palm forward.
The feeling is comforting, his large hands seem to fit perfectly with mine, the familiar electric feeling pulsing between us.
“Close your eyes,” he calmly instructs.
My eyes flutter closed, this time letting them relax instead of scrunching them up in frustration.
“Take a deep breath and imagine the fire growing clearly in your mind.” He rests his head on my shoulder, grounding me just enough to provide reassurance.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, and out through my mouth, instantly feeling a sense of calm wash over me. I picture the fire burning hot and growing several feet tall, the image in my mind so realistic that it feels like It’s really happening.
There’s a warm tingling sensation that builds in my stomach, growing ever so slightly. My hand shakes as a cold feeling wraps around my core. It’s Lucifer’s grace, a sensation I've grown quite accustomed to. My warm grace tangles with his, dancing in harmony. My grace is much smaller, more submissive to his. His grace is heavier and far more overpowering, like a cold ocean wave that makes my ears ring and blood hum.
“You feel that?” He whispers in my ear, the feeling of our graces merging together pleasantly surges through my body.
“...Yes.” I nod, holding back the groan that threatens to spill from my lips.
“Use it.” He kisses my neck, leaving a playful nip. “I know you can do it.”
His encouragement lights a fire in my stomach, and with renewed determination, I put my full focus into the task at hand.
The fire roars to life, burning to the top of the fireplace. The flames dance up to the chimney, the smell of crackling wood and thick smoke fills the room. A feeling of power surges through my veins, the rush has me instantly hooked, surely an addiction in the making.
“I did it…” I mutter to myself in shock. “LUCE, I DID IT!” I turn around to face him and my wings flutter in excitement, a happy grin on my face.
“I knew you could, my beloved!” He picks me up with ease and spins me around like I weigh nothing to him. His wings twirl around us, magnificent feathers flowing in the breeze. “I never doubted you for a second.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and stares at me lovingly. “I’m so proud of you.” He places a soft kiss on my lips.
“Mm…” I hum in content, happy that Lucifer, of all people, is proud of me. I melt into the kiss, the rest of the world fading into oblivion. I could stay here forever.
The soft clicks of a lock being picked is covered by the fire that still roars strong behind us and the blood rushing in my ears.
The door bursts open with a loud bang, the splintered wood hanging off the hinges. Light from outside pours into the dimly lit room, illuminating the three figures, their shadows stretching across the floor.
Surprised, I whip my head around to see Dean standing his ground across the room, Sam and Castiel looming behind him, all of them armed with angel blades.
“LET HER GO YOU WINGED BASTARD!” the familiar sound of Dean’s voice booms. Dean looks pissed, more than I ever could have imagined. This must be what monsters see in their final moments, truthfully, it scares me. His knuckles are white from gripping the blade so hard, ready to spring into action.
“Well, look who’s come to party,” Lucifer teases, holding me closer, surely leaving red marks where his fingers dig into the skin of my arms.
“Dean!” I call out. I never thought I'd see him again and my heart flutters at the sight. They came for me. They actually came for me…
Without giving it a second thought, I break free of Lucifer's grasp and make a beeline towards the Winchesters and their beloved angel, awaiting the feeling of being in their arms once again.
Before I even make it halfway across the room, Lucifer appears in front of me. I bump into his chest, stumbling back onto the floor.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” He shakes his head, giving me a disapproving look and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder like I'm just a child.
“PUT!... ME!... DOWN!” I demand, pounding my fists against his back. When this has absolutely no effect on him, I run my hands into his feathers and twist, remembering the reactions it elicited from him before. He growls, but refuses to let me down, his grips only growing tighter on me.
“Put the girl down, brother,” Castiel warns, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Castiel, pleasure to see you again, come back for seconds?” He taunts him with a grin.
Dean takes a step forward, practically fuming.
“Stay!” Lucifer commands me, placing me on the ground behind him. He splays his wings out protectively in front of me, as if I'm the one at risk.
The tension in the room is so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife.
The sound of every window breaking around us, practically makes me jump out of my skin. Shards of glass fly in all directions, one piece just barely missing my face by half an inch. The sky that had been clear just moments ago, is now raining like we’re in the eye of a category five hurricane. Booming claps of thunder fill the room, followed by strikes of lightning that illuminate Lucifer’s wings in the most intimidating way.
Snapping out of my shocked daze, I completely disregard his command and try to run forward but find that his grace is holding me in place, essentially super gluing my shoes to the floor.
For just a moment, the three boys give each other a knowing look before they all swing into action.
Dean lunges forward, swinging the blade with full force. He aims for Lucifer’s head, but he flawlessly dodges the attack, his eyes flashing red in anger. But this doesn’t deter him, Dean’s unrelenting, like he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life.
Sam keeps himself fixed to the closest wall across the room. He drags the blade across his hand, creating a deep gash in his palm. Blood drips to the floor in abundance, creating a crimson puddle. He dips his finger in the liquid and quickly begins to draw a symbol on the wall with haste. I’ve studied enough to recognize that it’s an Enochian symbol, but I can’t decipher what it means.
Castiel stands a few feet behind Dean, his brow furrowed in concentration. He extends his arm towards Lucifer and his eyes glow a light blue. He chants quietly under his breath, his voice low and steady.
Dean continues his attack on Lucifer. With one precise swing, he slices Lucifer across the face. A cut on his cheekbone forms, blood dribbling from his cheek to his chin. Dean flashes him a cocky smile.
I struggle against his hold with all my strength, desperately trying to pry my shoes from the hardwood floor, but it's ultimately useless. I have no choice but to stand by in horror, watching the scene unfold in front of me with no way to stop it. The only thing worse than being in love with two men, is watching them kill each other right in front of your eyes.
Lucifer reaches up to his cheek, tenderly touching the wound that instantly heals shut with a white shine. He lowers his hand, looking at the blood that coats his fingers in anger.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he growls, lunging at Dean.
“I don't think so brother,” Castiel states, his eyes glowing a bright blue. With the power of his grace, he stops Lucifer in his tracks, forcing him on his knees and keeping him stuck in place.
Dean tilts his head, giving him a look that says, “I win.”
“Hurry Dean, I can’t hold him much longer,” Castiel groans, his body straining to fight off Lucifer’s powerful resistance.
Without a second of hesitation, Dean plunges the blade into Lucifer, his body visibly shaking with adrenaline.
“NO!” I scream out, my wings frilled in panic. With the attack, Lucifer's grip on me breaks and I rush to his side in an instant. I kneel next to him on the ground, lifting his limp head in my hands, his eyes closed and blood dripping from the wound where the angel blade remains buried deep in his flesh. I can feel the hot tears pricking my eyes.
Silence hangs in the air. Dean, Sam, and Cas anxiously waiting to see if they’re plan had really worked. After a few moments pass, they give each other a look of relief and collect themselves.
Their relief is short lived, as he opens his eyes and breaks out of Cas’s hold, more pissed than ever.
“You missed.” He smiles and pulls the blade out from the right side of his chest, dropping it to the ground with a clank, blood splattering the wood. Within seconds the wound is healed shut with a white glow. He stands from his knees and spreads his wings, towering far above the rest of us. “You should really aim for the heart next time.” He grins wide like a Cheshire cat.
All three boys exchange a look that practically screams, “Oh shit.”
With a flick of his wrist, Lucifer throws the three of them against the wall, pinning them in place. They struggle with all their might, but their efforts are essentially useless against his powerful grace. In a fight, archangel always wins.
“Sit, stay awhile.” he teases.
“Lucifer, no,” I beg, just wanting this nightmare to be over.
He wraps his arm around my waist but pays me no mind. He twists his hand into a fist and at once, both of the brothers’ writhe in pain, their body contorting in unnatural angles.
Dean and Sam groan, their faces twisting up in agony. As if it couldn’t get worse, they start to spit up blood. And not just a little, but a disturbing amount of blood pouring through their lips, staining their skin and clothes a blooming red. The sound of groans and coughing makes me sick to my stomach.
“Lucifer, stop!” I yell in horror. I bunch my hands up in his shirt, desperately trying to snap him out of his fit of rage. I’ve never seen him like this before, but I start to question if those stories about him are actually as true as they say.
“No!” Castiel yells in his gravelly voice, staring at the beloved Winchester brothers squirming next to him.
“Wait your turn, brother.” Lucifer snaps his head in his direction and shifts his hand towards Castiel. A white glow slowly burns inside Cas. It starts low in his chest but builds until the white light shines through his throat and eyes with a deafening ring that continues to grow.
“You really think she loves you? I mean, you?” Lucifer mocks, staring Dean down intently.
Dean tries to speak, but his words are undecipherable through the spluttering blood and groans.
“STOP!!” I pound my fists against Lucifer’s chest so hard that it would surely leave painful bruises on any normal human. But he’s not human, no, he’s the farthest thing from it, an archangel in a savage rage.
He continues his assault, the boy’s looking as if they’re on the brink of death, perhaps they are.
“You promised…” my voice breaks.
This pulls him out of his trance. He stops his brutal attack and turns to me, looking guilty and the slightest bit pained.
“You’re right,” he admits, getting his temper under control. He takes my hand in his and brings them to rest on his cheek, evening out his breath.
The Winchesters gawk at him, as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing. They cough and choke, but the waterfall of blood stops and Castiel ceases the blinding glow.
“You’re scaring me, Luce.” I step closer, my eyes wet with tears.
“Forgive me, love.” he looks at me with loving eyes, the man I love coming back to me, even if it’s just for a moment. He pulls me into a kiss. It’s soft at first, caring and apologetic, but it soon turns deep and possessive. He wraps his wings around me and looks over to Dean, holding eye contact, needing to see his jealous reaction.
“Leave her alone,” he demands in a hoarse voice, his face burning with anger.
I break the kiss with a light shove and look at him, my cheeks burning in shame. I can practically hear his heart breaking into a thousand shards.
“Or what?” Lucifer snaps, “What did you think was going to happen, hm? You’d just storm in here, kill me, and she’d come running back to you like some lovesick puppy?”
Dean musters up the strength to shoot him a look that could kill, but I could see Lucifer’s words were gutting him inside.
“Newsflash kid, Y/N’s my soulmate. We’re meant to be together, it’s our destiny,” he says, pulling me so close that my wings are pressed flat against his chest, wrapping an arm around me to secure my body in place.
Dean’s face becomes somber as he processes the information. I can see the internal debate going on inside of his head, one that I’ve had many times before.
“Is that true, Y/N?” Sam asks hesitantly.
Cas gives Sam a knowing look.
“Yeah, tell them Y/N.” Lucifer takes my chin between his fingers and forces me to look them in the eyes, unable to escape their awaiting glares, “Is it true?” He mocks.
“...Yes,” I admit, barely a whisper.
Dean’s eyes go wide, tears threatening to spill at any moment. His green irises flick back and forth, desperately scanning my face for any sign that I might be lying, that this is all some part of a masterplan to deceive Lucifer, but finds none.
“I’m sorry,” my voice cracks and I close my eyes in shame, tears streaming down my cheeks. I can feel Lucifer smirking behind me, clearly amused with this turn of events.
The room is quiet for a moment before something in Dean changes. His eyes harden and he lifts his head with a wave of confidence. “Yeah? Well, I say screw destiny. You can shove it up your feathery ass!” He spits in defiance.
“Give it up Dean.” Lucifer rolls his eyes dramatically, “She’s my mate, you can't have her!” He growls, his wings spreading to their full wingspan.
“Lucifer… that’s enough!” I warn, grabbing him by the shoulders, trying to get his attention, but he keeps his eyes glued on Dean.
“No, she’s not! She’s one of us now, she’s a Winchester!” He snaps back.
Hearing those words makes my heart flutter but it sends Lucifer over the edge. His eyes glow a red so bright that I’m sure the color will be burned in the back of my retina for days to come. He balls his hand into a fist and twists it sharply.
Dean screams as the unmistakable sound of his rib bones crunching and breaking under the angel's grace bounces off the walls, followed by a series of pained whimpers, drowned out by Sam and Cas’s protests.
“I SAID, ENOUGH!” my voice echoes around the room. With a sudden surge of grace, Lucifer is shoved halfway across the room. Dean, Sam, and Cas are released from his hold, falling to the floor. The storm stops and all is quiet for just a moment.
Dean clutches at his ribs and attempts to stand, but collapses onto the ground in immense pain. Sam and Cas rush to his side and help him to his feet, throwing his arms around each of their shoulders to help him stand. The three of them look at me in shock, Dean seemingly more amazed than the others.
Lucifer, on the other hand, is beaming, clearly impressed with my sudden surge in power. “Look at y-” Lucifer starts with a cocky smile.
“Shut up!” I interrupt him, shooting him a warning look.
“I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m some prize to be won!” I yell, angrily looking between the two of them, disgusted with the little show they put on tonight. I try to catch my breath as I collect my thoughts.
“I’m my own person, and I decide my destiny! Not you,” I turn to look at Luce, images of our amazing dates together play like a movie in my mind, how he makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the world, the only thing that matters to him, and the powerful connection pulling us together like magnets. I can just imagine spending eternity with him, exploring where my powers could take me, seeing how deep our connection goes, and what the next millennia together has in store for us.
“Not you,” I look at Dean. Memories of my nights with him flood back, the way he was always there when I needed him, the way he makes my heart flutter every time I look at him, the way I crave him in every sense of the word. It’s no use denying the feelings I have for Dean, and what I wouldn’t give to spend the rest of my days with him, watching him grow old and showing him what it really means to be loved.
“And definitely not fate.” I raise my head high and frill my wings out to their full extent, refusing to hold myself back any longer.
This was such a good chapter. The action was really well written and had me on the edge of my seat. I like that the reader is the only one able to pull lucifer back in his anger. The show of power at the end was great. She’s making her own destiny and future and I’m here for it. Looking forward to the next chapter!
When Sam, Dean, and Cas track down Y/N and Lucifer, there is an all-out battle that results in Y/N having to make the ultimate decision. Will she accept her fate and choose Lucifer? Or will she create her own destiny and choose Dean?
(4.4k)
The days with Lucifer fly by. Counting the cycles from day to night, I believe I've been here for about 3 weeks, but it feels like I've spent my whole life with him. Each day holds another exciting adventure that’s designed to keep me happy and busy. He’s created amusement parks, animal sanctuaries, extravagant balls, and fancy dinners, even taking me to my favorite plays and movies, all created out of thin air with the snap of his fingers.
It’s been incredible. Truly something out of a fairytale. But everywhere we go, it’s just him and me, Lucifer and I, the rest of the world be damned. I’m not dumb, I know he’s doing this to keep me isolated and safe from anyone that may want to steal me away.
“I have a lot of enemies.” He grabs my shoulders and looks at me in full seriousness. “Many powerful people that will use you to get to me. But I promise you this, I will never let anyone hurt you. Not now. Not ever,” he explains, confirming my suspicions.
I have no doubt that’s true. What better way to hurt the Devil than threatening the one thing in this world he loves, his Achilles heel, and God help anyone that dares come between us. But, I suspect he has ulterior motives as well, primarily keeping me from the Winchesters and their pocket angel. I can tell that he’s on edge, always glancing at the door, obsessively checking that each sigil is still intact, just waiting for them to burst in guns blazing.
The house is secure, located in the middle of nowhere, and sigiled to high Hell. He’s careful. No one knows where we are, not even me. The odds of them ever finding this place are slim to nothing, that is if they’re even looking for me at all. The thought crushes me, feeling as if a little part of me has curled up and died.
I wonder where they are, what they’re doing, which monster they are hunting down this week, but most of all, if they miss me. I know it’s selfish of me to think that way. I put them through Hell, especially Cas, and they’re better off far, far, away from me.
Nevertheless, I've been practicing the demon exorcism Sam had taught me. I’ve got it down to a T, memorized every word and perfected each pronunciation. I'm ready for any demons that may cross my path. I can just picture the cheery smile on Sam’s face and the way he would squeeze my shoulder to show how proud of me he is.
I’ve even picked up my lessons in Enochian. I doubt Castiel would approve of my methods, but Lucifer has continued where he left off. He was surprised when I asked him, but happy to teach me the basic alphabet and meaning of the simple symbols. I’m still a novice, barely even able to decipher the simplest of writing, but I’m getting better by the day. I dream of seeing Castiel again one day and greeting him in Enochian. The surprised look on his face would be priceless and his kind smile would warm my heart.
Despite the wonderful time I’ve spent with Lucifer, how close we’ve grown, how much I truly adore him now, I miss my family… I miss Dean. The ghost of him lives in my mind. I keep expecting to wake up in the Bunker and see him in the kitchen drinking a beer and going to town on a tower of bacon. I miss his musky cologne and comfy flannels that are way too big for me but feel so right. I miss the way he would hold me at night and whisper that everything will be okay. My heart yearns for him, more than I thought possible. After the way things ended, the big fight that resulted in him storming out, the rage that burned in his eyes, I doubt that he would ever want to see me again.
“It’s for the best,” I keep reminding myself, trying to quell the feelings that seem to grow stronger with each moment that passes.
Lucifer knows. Despite how hard I try to hide my pain, he’s not oblivious, and the deep connection that we share sure doesn’t help.
“Y/N?” Lucifer asks, hugging me from behind, pulling me to his chest and resting his head on my shoulder like he often does.
“Yes, Luce?” I lean back into his chest.
“Somethings bothering you,” he states matter-of-factly, “talk to me.”
“It’s nothing,” I attempt to ease his suspicion, but it comes out less than convincing.
Uneasy silence hangs in the air as he thinks of what to say.
“Dean could never love you like this, you know.” He gently brushes my hair away from my neck and places a series of soft kisses from my jaw to my shoulder.
I freeze, turning rigid as a board. Hearing those words come from his mouth, it feels like the wind is knocked out of me. “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about Luce,” I laugh nervously, trying to brush off his suspicion.
“Yes, you do.”
A sinking feeling drops in my stomach, and I close my eyes, preparing myself for where this dangerous conversation may lead. As much as I adore Lucifer, he is anything but predictable.
“A little birdy told me what you and Dean have been up to.” He grits his teeth, trying to control his temper.
“A little birdy being you spying on me?” I bite back defensively.
“Besides the point.” He pulls me in even tighter, perhaps scared that I'll flee at any moment. “I know that you have feelings for that insolent human… I know that you miss him,” he says bitterly, face scrunching up in disdain. “Do you really think he misses you?” He snaps, knowing that it will cut deep.
“Luce…” I whisper, my voice trembling. It’s a thought that’s crossed my mind a million times before, a thought I can’t seem to shake.
“Y/N,” he spins me around to face him, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes comb over my face like he’s admiring a work of art.
“I’m going to show what it truly means to feel love.” He takes a deep breath. “I promise you that in due time, these feelings you have for that… Winchester,” he says in disgust, “will be a thing of the past. The only person you will crave is me.” He pulls me into a deep and passionate kiss. It’s not angry and possessive like I expected, but rather tender and loving.
I pull away, my lips puffy and cheeks flushed.
“He will never touch you again, do you understand?” He growls, his eyes flash a bright crimson red for a moment, before returning to their usual state. He wraps his magnificent wings around me in a protective manner, the silky feather brushing against my bare arms.
“Yes Luce.” I nod and rest my head against his chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat brings me a sense of peace and safety. Part of me wants to believe him. Part of me wants to forget the feelings I have for Dean Winchester and spend the rest of eternity with the angel fate has decided I’m meant to be with. But the other part of me wants to say, “Fuck fate,” and run into his arms, reuniting with the man I hold so dear. A storm of conflict brews ever stronger inside of me.
“I want you to focus, I mean really focus,” Lucifer says, encouraging me.
I hold my hand out in front me, just a few feet away from the fireplace. I can feel the heat licking my palm. I screw my eyes shut and pour all my mental force into the flame that flickers weakly from the charred-up logs. My brows furrow and a bead of sweat runs down my face. I give it my all, but still, nothing comes.
“Ugh! This is useless!” I groan, dropping my hand down by my side in defeat. “Maybe I just don’t have grace abilities like you.” My mood fades from frustration into sadness, wings wilting pathetically.
“You think Rome was built in one day?” He replies sarcastically. “I’ve had millennia to perfect my grace, you just need some more practice.”
I shoot him a dirty look, but eventually nod my head in understanding.
“Now,” he clears his throat and steps closer until his chest is pressed against my back, the tingly feeling returning. “Spread your feet apart.” He kicks my shoes with his boot until they’re about a foot apart in distance, giving me better balance. “Hold your hand out. Stiffen your arm.” He lifts my arm into place, intertwining his fingers in mine and holding my palm forward.
The feeling is comforting, his large hands seem to fit perfectly with mine, the familiar electric feeling pulsing between us.
“Close your eyes,” he calmly instructs.
My eyes flutter closed, this time letting them relax instead of scrunching them up in frustration.
“Take a deep breath and imagine the fire growing clearly in your mind.” He rests his head on my shoulder, grounding me just enough to provide reassurance.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, and out through my mouth, instantly feeling a sense of calm wash over me. I picture the fire burning hot and growing several feet tall, the image in my mind so realistic that it feels like It’s really happening.
There’s a warm tingling sensation that builds in my stomach, growing ever so slightly. My hand shakes as a cold feeling wraps around my core. It’s Lucifer’s grace, a sensation I've grown quite accustomed to. My warm grace tangles with his, dancing in harmony. My grace is much smaller, more submissive to his. His grace is heavier and far more overpowering, like a cold ocean wave that makes my ears ring and blood hum.
“You feel that?” He whispers in my ear, the feeling of our graces merging together pleasantly surges through my body.
“...Yes.” I nod, holding back the groan that threatens to spill from my lips.
“Use it.” He kisses my neck, leaving a playful nip. “I know you can do it.”
His encouragement lights a fire in my stomach, and with renewed determination, I put my full focus into the task at hand.
The fire roars to life, burning to the top of the fireplace. The flames dance up to the chimney, the smell of crackling wood and thick smoke fills the room. A feeling of power surges through my veins, the rush has me instantly hooked, surely an addiction in the making.
“I did it…” I mutter to myself in shock. “LUCE, I DID IT!” I turn around to face him and my wings flutter in excitement, a happy grin on my face.
“I knew you could, my beloved!” He picks me up with ease and spins me around like I weigh nothing to him. His wings twirl around us, magnificent feathers flowing in the breeze. “I never doubted you for a second.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and stares at me lovingly. “I’m so proud of you.” He places a soft kiss on my lips.
“Mm…” I hum in content, happy that Lucifer, of all people, is proud of me. I melt into the kiss, the rest of the world fading into oblivion. I could stay here forever.
The soft clicks of a lock being picked is covered by the fire that still roars strong behind us and the blood rushing in my ears.
The door bursts open with a loud bang, the splintered wood hanging off the hinges. Light from outside pours into the dimly lit room, illuminating the three figures, their shadows stretching across the floor.
Surprised, I whip my head around to see Dean standing his ground across the room, Sam and Castiel looming behind him, all of them armed with angel blades.
“LET HER GO YOU WINGED BASTARD!” the familiar sound of Dean’s voice booms. Dean looks pissed, more than I ever could have imagined. This must be what monsters see in their final moments, truthfully, it scares me. His knuckles are white from gripping the blade so hard, ready to spring into action.
“Well, look who’s come to party,” Lucifer teases, holding me closer, surely leaving red marks where his fingers dig into the skin of my arms.
“Dean!” I call out. I never thought I'd see him again and my heart flutters at the sight. They came for me. They actually came for me…
Without giving it a second thought, I break free of Lucifer's grasp and make a beeline towards the Winchesters and their beloved angel, awaiting the feeling of being in their arms once again.
Before I even make it halfway across the room, Lucifer appears in front of me. I bump into his chest, stumbling back onto the floor.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” He shakes his head, giving me a disapproving look and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder like I'm just a child.
“PUT!... ME!... DOWN!” I demand, pounding my fists against his back. When this has absolutely no effect on him, I run my hands into his feathers and twist, remembering the reactions it elicited from him before. He growls, but refuses to let me down, his grips only growing tighter on me.
“Put the girl down, brother,” Castiel warns, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Castiel, pleasure to see you again, come back for seconds?” He taunts him with a grin.
Dean takes a step forward, practically fuming.
“Stay!” Lucifer commands me, placing me on the ground behind him. He splays his wings out protectively in front of me, as if I'm the one at risk.
The tension in the room is so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife.
The sound of every window breaking around us, practically makes me jump out of my skin. Shards of glass fly in all directions, one piece just barely missing my face by half an inch. The sky that had been clear just moments ago, is now raining like we’re in the eye of a category five hurricane. Booming claps of thunder fill the room, followed by strikes of lightning that illuminate Lucifer’s wings in the most intimidating way.
Snapping out of my shocked daze, I completely disregard his command and try to run forward but find that his grace is holding me in place, essentially super gluing my shoes to the floor.
For just a moment, the three boys give each other a knowing look before they all swing into action.
Dean lunges forward, swinging the blade with full force. He aims for Lucifer’s head, but he flawlessly dodges the attack, his eyes flashing red in anger. But this doesn’t deter him, Dean’s unrelenting, like he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life.
Sam keeps himself fixed to the closest wall across the room. He drags the blade across his hand, creating a deep gash in his palm. Blood drips to the floor in abundance, creating a crimson puddle. He dips his finger in the liquid and quickly begins to draw a symbol on the wall with haste. I’ve studied enough to recognize that it’s an Enochian symbol, but I can’t decipher what it means.
Castiel stands a few feet behind Dean, his brow furrowed in concentration. He extends his arm towards Lucifer and his eyes glow a light blue. He chants quietly under his breath, his voice low and steady.
Dean continues his attack on Lucifer. With one precise swing, he slices Lucifer across the face. A cut on his cheekbone forms, blood dribbling from his cheek to his chin. Dean flashes him a cocky smile.
I struggle against his hold with all my strength, desperately trying to pry my shoes from the hardwood floor, but it's ultimately useless. I have no choice but to stand by in horror, watching the scene unfold in front of me with no way to stop it. The only thing worse than being in love with two men, is watching them kill each other right in front of your eyes.
Lucifer reaches up to his cheek, tenderly touching the wound that instantly heals shut with a white shine. He lowers his hand, looking at the blood that coats his fingers in anger.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he growls, lunging at Dean.
“I don't think so brother,” Castiel states, his eyes glowing a bright blue. With the power of his grace, he stops Lucifer in his tracks, forcing him on his knees and keeping him stuck in place.
Dean tilts his head, giving him a look that says, “I win.”
“Hurry Dean, I can’t hold him much longer,” Castiel groans, his body straining to fight off Lucifer’s powerful resistance.
Without a second of hesitation, Dean plunges the blade into Lucifer, his body visibly shaking with adrenaline.
“NO!” I scream out, my wings frilled in panic. With the attack, Lucifer's grip on me breaks and I rush to his side in an instant. I kneel next to him on the ground, lifting his limp head in my hands, his eyes closed and blood dripping from the wound where the angel blade remains buried deep in his flesh. I can feel the hot tears pricking my eyes.
Silence hangs in the air. Dean, Sam, and Cas anxiously waiting to see if they’re plan had really worked. After a few moments pass, they give each other a look of relief and collect themselves.
Their relief is short lived, as he opens his eyes and breaks out of Cas’s hold, more pissed than ever.
“You missed.” He smiles and pulls the blade out from the right side of his chest, dropping it to the ground with a clank, blood splattering the wood. Within seconds the wound is healed shut with a white glow. He stands from his knees and spreads his wings, towering far above the rest of us. “You should really aim for the heart next time.” He grins wide like a Cheshire cat.
All three boys exchange a look that practically screams, “Oh shit.”
With a flick of his wrist, Lucifer throws the three of them against the wall, pinning them in place. They struggle with all their might, but their efforts are essentially useless against his powerful grace. In a fight, archangel always wins.
“Sit, stay awhile.” he teases.
“Lucifer, no,” I beg, just wanting this nightmare to be over.
He wraps his arm around my waist but pays me no mind. He twists his hand into a fist and at once, both of the brothers’ writhe in pain, their body contorting in unnatural angles.
Dean and Sam groan, their faces twisting up in agony. As if it couldn’t get worse, they start to spit up blood. And not just a little, but a disturbing amount of blood pouring through their lips, staining their skin and clothes a blooming red. The sound of groans and coughing makes me sick to my stomach.
“Lucifer, stop!” I yell in horror. I bunch my hands up in his shirt, desperately trying to snap him out of his fit of rage. I’ve never seen him like this before, but I start to question if those stories about him are actually as true as they say.
“No!” Castiel yells in his gravelly voice, staring at the beloved Winchester brothers squirming next to him.
“Wait your turn, brother.” Lucifer snaps his head in his direction and shifts his hand towards Castiel. A white glow slowly burns inside Cas. It starts low in his chest but builds until the white light shines through his throat and eyes with a deafening ring that continues to grow.
“You really think she loves you? I mean, you?” Lucifer mocks, staring Dean down intently.
Dean tries to speak, but his words are undecipherable through the spluttering blood and groans.
“STOP!!” I pound my fists against Lucifer’s chest so hard that it would surely leave painful bruises on any normal human. But he’s not human, no, he’s the farthest thing from it, an archangel in a savage rage.
He continues his assault, the boy’s looking as if they’re on the brink of death, perhaps they are.
“You promised…” my voice breaks.
This pulls him out of his trance. He stops his brutal attack and turns to me, looking guilty and the slightest bit pained.
“You’re right,” he admits, getting his temper under control. He takes my hand in his and brings them to rest on his cheek, evening out his breath.
The Winchesters gawk at him, as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing. They cough and choke, but the waterfall of blood stops and Castiel ceases the blinding glow.
“You’re scaring me, Luce.” I step closer, my eyes wet with tears.
“Forgive me, love.” he looks at me with loving eyes, the man I love coming back to me, even if it’s just for a moment. He pulls me into a kiss. It’s soft at first, caring and apologetic, but it soon turns deep and possessive. He wraps his wings around me and looks over to Dean, holding eye contact, needing to see his jealous reaction.
“Leave her alone,” he demands in a hoarse voice, his face burning with anger.
I break the kiss with a light shove and look at him, my cheeks burning in shame. I can practically hear his heart breaking into a thousand shards.
“Or what?” Lucifer snaps, “What did you think was going to happen, hm? You’d just storm in here, kill me, and she’d come running back to you like some lovesick puppy?”
Dean musters up the strength to shoot him a look that could kill, but I could see Lucifer’s words were gutting him inside.
“Newsflash kid, Y/N’s my soulmate. We’re meant to be together, it’s our destiny,” he says, pulling me so close that my wings are pressed flat against his chest, wrapping an arm around me to secure my body in place.
Dean’s face becomes somber as he processes the information. I can see the internal debate going on inside of his head, one that I’ve had many times before.
“Is that true, Y/N?” Sam asks hesitantly.
Cas gives Sam a knowing look.
“Yeah, tell them Y/N.” Lucifer takes my chin between his fingers and forces me to look them in the eyes, unable to escape their awaiting glares, “Is it true?” He mocks.
“...Yes,” I admit, barely a whisper.
Dean’s eyes go wide, tears threatening to spill at any moment. His green irises flick back and forth, desperately scanning my face for any sign that I might be lying, that this is all some part of a masterplan to deceive Lucifer, but finds none.
“I’m sorry,” my voice cracks and I close my eyes in shame, tears streaming down my cheeks. I can feel Lucifer smirking behind me, clearly amused with this turn of events.
The room is quiet for a moment before something in Dean changes. His eyes harden and he lifts his head with a wave of confidence. “Yeah? Well, I say screw destiny. You can shove it up your feathery ass!” He spits in defiance.
“Give it up Dean.” Lucifer rolls his eyes dramatically, “She’s my mate, you can't have her!” He growls, his wings spreading to their full wingspan.
“Lucifer… that’s enough!” I warn, grabbing him by the shoulders, trying to get his attention, but he keeps his eyes glued on Dean.
“No, she’s not! She’s one of us now, she’s a Winchester!” He snaps back.
Hearing those words makes my heart flutter but it sends Lucifer over the edge. His eyes glow a red so bright that I’m sure the color will be burned in the back of my retina for days to come. He balls his hand into a fist and twists it sharply.
Dean screams as the unmistakable sound of his rib bones crunching and breaking under the angel's grace bounces off the walls, followed by a series of pained whimpers, drowned out by Sam and Cas’s protests.
“I SAID, ENOUGH!” my voice echoes around the room. With a sudden surge of grace, Lucifer is shoved halfway across the room. Dean, Sam, and Cas are released from his hold, falling to the floor. The storm stops and all is quiet for just a moment.
Dean clutches at his ribs and attempts to stand, but collapses onto the ground in immense pain. Sam and Cas rush to his side and help him to his feet, throwing his arms around each of their shoulders to help him stand. The three of them look at me in shock, Dean seemingly more amazed than the others.
Lucifer, on the other hand, is beaming, clearly impressed with my sudden surge in power. “Look at y-” Lucifer starts with a cocky smile.
“Shut up!” I interrupt him, shooting him a warning look.
“I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m some prize to be won!” I yell, angrily looking between the two of them, disgusted with the little show they put on tonight. I try to catch my breath as I collect my thoughts.
“I’m my own person, and I decide my destiny! Not you,” I turn to look at Luce, images of our amazing dates together play like a movie in my mind, how he makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the world, the only thing that matters to him, and the powerful connection pulling us together like magnets. I can just imagine spending eternity with him, exploring where my powers could take me, seeing how deep our connection goes, and what the next millennia together has in store for us.
“Not you,” I look at Dean. Memories of my nights with him flood back, the way he was always there when I needed him, the way he makes my heart flutter every time I look at him, the way I crave him in every sense of the word. It’s no use denying the feelings I have for Dean, and what I wouldn’t give to spend the rest of my days with him, watching him grow old and showing him what it really means to be loved.
“And definitely not fate.” I raise my head high and frill my wings out to their full extent, refusing to hold myself back any longer.
As Y/N grows closer to Lucifer, he reveals what the hands of fate have in store.
(1.6k)
The heavy rain pounds against the colorful windows, the peaceful sound fills the otherwise silent room, occasionally interrupted by the deafening clap of thunder. The droplets of water race down the colorful depictions of the fall and rise of Lucifer, displayed in the stained glass windows, giving it an almost theatrical effect.
I stare out one of the few clear panes of glass, cozied in a comfy chair I had dragged into place. The view of the towering pine trees outside is distorted by the downpour and thick fog looming around. The sun is nowhere to be seen, the world only illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning.
Sighing, I turn my attention back to the task at hand, rereading my favorite cheesy romance novel for the 14th time, never growing tired of it. I lose myself in the story of a girl from the city running into a creature of the night. She starts out frightened of the vampire, scared of what she’s capable of, but learns to see through her tough shell and love the woman beneath the fangs and mystery. I hum quietly, chewing on a strand of hair as I meticulously scan every word on the page, despite having them memorized already.
“I’m so booored,” Lucifer whines, stepping out of the shadows and leaning over the tall satin chair I reside in.
“And what would you like me to do about that?” I keep my eyes fixed on the book, not sparing him even a passing glance, but I can still feel him pouting behind me.
“Let’s go do something,” he suggests, leaning down to wrap his arms around my chest.
“Like what?” I gaze at him from the corner of my eye.
He gestures out the window, wordlessly planting the idea of going outside.
“It’s raining Luce.” I put my book down to look at him, giving him the attention he so badly craves.
“You say that like it's a problem.” He grins, holding me even tighter.
Without a moment to think, the world spins once again and I find myself in a completely different location. I grab onto his arms to hold myself up, my knees ready to buckle under my weight at any second. I keep my eyes scrunched closed until the dizziness wears off and the world feels stable.
“You have to stop doing that!” I growl, shoving him with annoyance, but he doesn’t even budge. Fully preparing myself for the torrential downpour of rain, I instinctively fold my wings over my head to provide what little shelter I can, but nothing comes.
He rolls his eyes, then looks at me eagerly like he’s waiting for my reaction.
The sound of birds chirping draws my attention and I lower my wings to take in my surroundings. I find myself in a stunning garden that goes on as far as the eye can see, unlike anything I've ever experienced. The world is painted vibrant shades of greens, blues and pinks, the color so intense that it feels like I'm looking through an enhanced filter. The sky, a pale blue with dozens of fluffy clouds and a shining rainbow.
The grass is perfectly manicured with little drops of dew from the rain clinging to each blade. Little bee’s buzz in harmony, hard at work pollinating each wildflower sprung from the ground.
A little stream runs down the hills, twisting and winding for miles. The water is so clear that you can see each tumbled rock fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The sound of water rapidly flowing fills the air and perched on mossy rocks along the bank are little green and brown frogs, lounging without a care in the world.
Hundreds of cherry blossoms fill the orchard in full bloom, the fragrant aroma taking over my senses. But in the middle of it all is one tree that looms taller than the rest. It's old, dating back at least a century. The branches twist and turn, similar to the body of a snake. And hanging from the lowest branch is one bright, shiny red apple.
“Where the fuck am I?” I ask, feeling a sense of confusion and wonder.
“It’s a garden I made for you.”
I slowly spin on my heels, admiring the beauty around me. He’s thoughtfully selected all of my favorite flowers, each one bringing back a distinct, pleasant memory. It takes my breath away.
He nervously rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self conscious. “Maybe it’s a bit mu-”
“No!” I interrupt him, “It’s beautiful.” I smile.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, his doubt melting away in a matter of seconds, replaced by pride. His wings perk up and a satisfied grin tugs at his lips. “Come,” he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers and pulling me along.
The soft grass squishes beneath my boots as I follow close behind, a soft breeze flows through my hair.
He stops us at the apple tree that stands next to the creek, and sitting in its shade is a checkered red blanket, and a woven picnic basket. It’s like a scene out of a fairy tale.
“A picnic?” I raise my brow skeptically. I never imagined Lucifer to be the picnicking type.
He sits down on the blanket and pats it twice, gesturing for me to sit by his side.
I perch down next to him, tucking my wings behind my back and our knees touch ever so slightly. Just that one innocent little touch feels so intimate.
He pulls out two fancy crystal glasses, dipping them into the creek by our side and filling them with the clear water.
“Creek water? I think I'll pass,” I scoff.
He looks at me amused, like he knows something I don’t. With a snap of his fingers, the water turns into a rich amber color I could recognise anywhere. He hands me the glass with a pleased smirk.
“Cool party trick.” I admire the glass in amazement. “Taking notes from The Bible, are we?” I tease.
“Please,” he scoffs. “That dickwad learned it from me.”
I chuckle at the thought. I take a sip and my eyes light up as the familiar taste of Jack Daniels Whiskey burns my throat. “Mmm… You remembered,” I smile.
“I always do.” He wraps his wing around my shoulders.
“Lucifer?” I ask, nervously toying with his mesmerizing flight feathers.
“Hm?”
“Why am I here? I mean, why me? What makes me so special?” I scooch closer, patiently waiting for his answer.
“Because.” He effortlessly pulls me into his lap, wrapping his broad arms around me, “You’re my soulmate.”
“What?” My eyes widen and snap up to meet his.
“You were made for me Y/N,” he coos, holding my chin in his hand. His eyes lovingly gaze into mine. “A gift from my dad, a little peace offering of sorts.”
“That’s not possible…” I shake my head, unable to process the information being thrown at me. My hands shake, a myriad of thoughts and emotions bouncing around my brain.
“You feel the connection between us, the force that pulls us together, even when we're apart. The way our lives have always led to this moment.” He places a soft kiss on my cheek.
I sit in silence, stunned.
“You know it to be true,” he whispers in my ear.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur.
“Why do you think you dream of me every night? We’re bonded together, our fates intertwined for the rest of time.” He caresses my cheek ever so slightly.
“Luce…” my voice quivers.
“You feel that?” He asks, pulling me into his chest and I can feel the buzz of electricity stronger than ever.
“There’s a reason I shared my grace with you,” his cold tingly grace intertwines with mine that burns hot, creating a pleasant mix of sensations.
I stare up at him, too shocked to even blink. I’m finally getting the answers I so desperately craved, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
“Human lives are so fleeting and the thought of being without you ever again kills me,” his voice breaks, emotions getting the best of him.
“We’re destined to be together,” he pauses, “forever.”
The words play over in my head countless times, struggling to form some kind of response.
Images of my time with Dean flash across my mind, the way he held me when I needed him the most, the nights he slept by my side and held me dear, and the yearning I feel whenever I think of him. I can’t stop the feeling of guilt that burns in my stomach, like I’m betraying him, despite never even discussing any sort of relationship. I have feelings for Dean, that I'm certain of. But I can’t deny the chemistry I feel with Lucifer, the way every moment together feels so natural.
“This is a lot to take in Luce.” I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling conflicted and overwhelmed.
“I know love.” He places a kiss on the top of my head. “Take your time, we have an eternity awaiting us.”
I nod my head and take a long swig of whiskey until the glass is nearly empty. The alcohol always did help me think. We sit in comfortable silence for what must’ve been hours. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the birds chirping and water flowing, my breathing becoming steadier. The warmth of the sun shines on my face, lulling me into a sense of relaxation. I mindlessly curl up in his lap and snuggle into his chest as the peaceful hands of sleep pull me close. The last thing I can remember is the feeling of his large silky wings wrapping around us providing me a sense of safety. And just like that, I drift off into peaceful dreams.
Soulmates with the devil, this doesn’t sound good at all 😂 but then I’m team dean through and through. I hope her feelings for Dean are strong enough to break the connection with lucifer!
As Y/N grows closer to Lucifer, he reveals what the hands of fate have in store.
(1.6k)
The heavy rain pounds against the colorful windows, the peaceful sound fills the otherwise silent room, occasionally interrupted by the deafening clap of thunder. The droplets of water race down the colorful depictions of the fall and rise of Lucifer, displayed in the stained glass windows, giving it an almost theatrical effect.
I stare out one of the few clear panes of glass, cozied in a comfy chair I had dragged into place. The view of the towering pine trees outside is distorted by the downpour and thick fog looming around. The sun is nowhere to be seen, the world only illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning.
Sighing, I turn my attention back to the task at hand, rereading my favorite cheesy romance novel for the 14th time, never growing tired of it. I lose myself in the story of a girl from the city running into a creature of the night. She starts out frightened of the vampire, scared of what she’s capable of, but learns to see through her tough shell and love the woman beneath the fangs and mystery. I hum quietly, chewing on a strand of hair as I meticulously scan every word on the page, despite having them memorized already.
“I’m so booored,” Lucifer whines, stepping out of the shadows and leaning over the tall satin chair I reside in.
“And what would you like me to do about that?” I keep my eyes fixed on the book, not sparing him even a passing glance, but I can still feel him pouting behind me.
“Let’s go do something,” he suggests, leaning down to wrap his arms around my chest.
“Like what?” I gaze at him from the corner of my eye.
He gestures out the window, wordlessly planting the idea of going outside.
“It’s raining Luce.” I put my book down to look at him, giving him the attention he so badly craves.
“You say that like it's a problem.” He grins, holding me even tighter.
Without a moment to think, the world spins once again and I find myself in a completely different location. I grab onto his arms to hold myself up, my knees ready to buckle under my weight at any second. I keep my eyes scrunched closed until the dizziness wears off and the world feels stable.
“You have to stop doing that!” I growl, shoving him with annoyance, but he doesn’t even budge. Fully preparing myself for the torrential downpour of rain, I instinctively fold my wings over my head to provide what little shelter I can, but nothing comes.
He rolls his eyes, then looks at me eagerly like he’s waiting for my reaction.
The sound of birds chirping draws my attention and I lower my wings to take in my surroundings. I find myself in a stunning garden that goes on as far as the eye can see, unlike anything I've ever experienced. The world is painted vibrant shades of greens, blues and pinks, the color so intense that it feels like I'm looking through an enhanced filter. The sky, a pale blue with dozens of fluffy clouds and a shining rainbow.
The grass is perfectly manicured with little drops of dew from the rain clinging to each blade. Little bee’s buzz in harmony, hard at work pollinating each wildflower sprung from the ground.
A little stream runs down the hills, twisting and winding for miles. The water is so clear that you can see each tumbled rock fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The sound of water rapidly flowing fills the air and perched on mossy rocks along the bank are little green and brown frogs, lounging without a care in the world.
Hundreds of cherry blossoms fill the orchard in full bloom, the fragrant aroma taking over my senses. But in the middle of it all is one tree that looms taller than the rest. It's old, dating back at least a century. The branches twist and turn, similar to the body of a snake. And hanging from the lowest branch is one bright, shiny red apple.
“Where the fuck am I?” I ask, feeling a sense of confusion and wonder.
“It’s a garden I made for you.”
I slowly spin on my heels, admiring the beauty around me. He’s thoughtfully selected all of my favorite flowers, each one bringing back a distinct, pleasant memory. It takes my breath away.
He nervously rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self conscious. “Maybe it’s a bit mu-”
“No!” I interrupt him, “It’s beautiful.” I smile.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, his doubt melting away in a matter of seconds, replaced by pride. His wings perk up and a satisfied grin tugs at his lips. “Come,” he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers and pulling me along.
The soft grass squishes beneath my boots as I follow close behind, a soft breeze flows through my hair.
He stops us at the apple tree that stands next to the creek, and sitting in its shade is a checkered red blanket, and a woven picnic basket. It’s like a scene out of a fairy tale.
“A picnic?” I raise my brow skeptically. I never imagined Lucifer to be the picnicking type.
He sits down on the blanket and pats it twice, gesturing for me to sit by his side.
I perch down next to him, tucking my wings behind my back and our knees touch ever so slightly. Just that one innocent little touch feels so intimate.
He pulls out two fancy crystal glasses, dipping them into the creek by our side and filling them with the clear water.
“Creek water? I think I'll pass,” I scoff.
He looks at me amused, like he knows something I don’t. With a snap of his fingers, the water turns into a rich amber color I could recognise anywhere. He hands me the glass with a pleased smirk.
“Cool party trick.” I admire the glass in amazement. “Taking notes from The Bible, are we?” I tease.
“Please,” he scoffs. “That dickwad learned it from me.”
I chuckle at the thought. I take a sip and my eyes light up as the familiar taste of Jack Daniels Whiskey burns my throat. “Mmm… You remembered,” I smile.
“I always do.” He wraps his wing around my shoulders.
“Lucifer?” I ask, nervously toying with his mesmerizing flight feathers.
“Hm?”
“Why am I here? I mean, why me? What makes me so special?” I scooch closer, patiently waiting for his answer.
“Because.” He effortlessly pulls me into his lap, wrapping his broad arms around me, “You’re my soulmate.”
“What?” My eyes widen and snap up to meet his.
“You were made for me Y/N,” he coos, holding my chin in his hand. His eyes lovingly gaze into mine. “A gift from my dad, a little peace offering of sorts.”
“That’s not possible…” I shake my head, unable to process the information being thrown at me. My hands shake, a myriad of thoughts and emotions bouncing around my brain.
“You feel the connection between us, the force that pulls us together, even when we're apart. The way our lives have always led to this moment.” He places a soft kiss on my cheek.
I sit in silence, stunned.
“You know it to be true,” he whispers in my ear.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur.
“Why do you think you dream of me every night? We’re bonded together, our fates intertwined for the rest of time.” He caresses my cheek ever so slightly.
“Luce…” my voice quivers.
“You feel that?” He asks, pulling me into his chest and I can feel the buzz of electricity stronger than ever.
“There’s a reason I shared my grace with you,” his cold tingly grace intertwines with mine that burns hot, creating a pleasant mix of sensations.
I stare up at him, too shocked to even blink. I’m finally getting the answers I so desperately craved, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
“Human lives are so fleeting and the thought of being without you ever again kills me,” his voice breaks, emotions getting the best of him.
“We’re destined to be together,” he pauses, “forever.”
The words play over in my head countless times, struggling to form some kind of response.
Images of my time with Dean flash across my mind, the way he held me when I needed him the most, the nights he slept by my side and held me dear, and the yearning I feel whenever I think of him. I can’t stop the feeling of guilt that burns in my stomach, like I’m betraying him, despite never even discussing any sort of relationship. I have feelings for Dean, that I'm certain of. But I can’t deny the chemistry I feel with Lucifer, the way every moment together feels so natural.
“This is a lot to take in Luce.” I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling conflicted and overwhelmed.
“I know love.” He places a kiss on the top of my head. “Take your time, we have an eternity awaiting us.”
I nod my head and take a long swig of whiskey until the glass is nearly empty. The alcohol always did help me think. We sit in comfortable silence for what must’ve been hours. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the birds chirping and water flowing, my breathing becoming steadier. The warmth of the sun shines on my face, lulling me into a sense of relaxation. I mindlessly curl up in his lap and snuggle into his chest as the peaceful hands of sleep pull me close. The last thing I can remember is the feeling of his large silky wings wrapping around us providing me a sense of safety. And just like that, I drift off into peaceful dreams.
Y/N says her final goodbye to Castiel and makes the best of her new situation, growing closer to Lucifer.
(3.5k)
The world spins rapidly, leaving me feeling incredibly dizzy and a tad bit nauseous. I lose my balance and my knees buckle at the overwhelming situation. As I fall forward, a strong and steady arm catches me, pulling me into his chest. This keeps me sturdy as the spinning room slowly comes to a stop. The illusion of safety is fleeting as I remember just whose body I cling to.
“You’re okay love, I got you,” he assures.
His familiar voice puts me on edge, but also brings an unexpected sense of peace and longing. “Lucifer…” I whisper, raising my head. Our eyes meet, exchanging a thousand unspoken words at one.
“You called?” His signature cocky tone returns once again. He grins ear to ear, clearly pleased with this turn of events.
“I did.” I swallow down the growing uneasiness in my stomach. “I want to make a deal.”
“A deal with the Devil?” He tilts his head, evidently amused. “How cliché. Go on,” he beckons.
“I know what you plan to do to the Winchesters.” I furrow my brows, keeping my anger and disgust in check. “I know what you’re doing to Cas.”
He crosses his arms, his face hard and unreadable, and waits for me to continue.
“Take me instead.”
Surprise paints his face that quickly morphs into delight.
This is what he’s wanted from the beginning, to own me like I'm some toy for him to play with at his leisure. If I play my cards right, no one else will ever suffer at his hands again and I can begin to undo just a bit of the damage I've caused.
“If you let them go and promise not to hurt them… I’m all yours,” I sigh. “No running. No fighting. I am truly and indefinitely yours”. I stare at him with wide eyes and a truthful look that portrays just how serious I am.
“Interesting.” He looks up, tapping a finger to his lips, thinking for a moment. “You got yourself a deal.” His eyes light up with intrigue, glowing a dark red color.
A wave of relief flows through me and with a ruffle of feathers, my wings relax from their tense position. I force myself to ignore the pang of uncertainty building in my stomach.
“Shall we seal it with a kiss, my love?” He smiles deviously, his face barely an inch from mine.
I can feel his warm breath on my face which surprisingly smells like he had just finished chewing cool spearmint gum. I reluctantly nod, willing to do anything for the boys I consider family. I lean in close, the familiar static buzz building between us.
Without a second of hesitation, Lucifer crashes his lips into mine.
I falter for a moment, frozen in place, but something inside me ignites like a fire and I melt into the kiss.
His cracked lips move in sync with my soft ones, creating a wonderful contrast in sensations. He opens his mouth slightly, quietly asking for permission to explore.
I oblige, opening my mouth, allowing him access to all of me.
His forked tongue clashes against mine, our tastes delightfully mingling together. What starts off as playful and soft, quickly turns rough and passionate. Our tongues fight for dominance, but I quickly lose the battle and submit to his will, something about it just feels so right. He tangles his hand in my hair, lightly pulling my head back by the roots just to prove who's really in control here.
I can’t help the small whimper that escapes my lips that beckons a satisfying grin from him.
His other hand snakes around me, finding the small of my back and pulling our bodies flush against one another. The flight feathers of his large white wings caress my sides. If I wasn’t so distracted, I may have found it ticklish.
The passion grows to new heights, the soft spark of electricity turning into an intense flame freely flowing to my core. A mix of cold and warm sensation dance where our bodies meet. The room melts around us like a beautiful chalk mural washing away in the rain, until Lucifer and I are all that’s left in the comforting darkness.
After what feels like hours, he pulls away, biting my bottom lip for good measure, leaving a warm metallic taste in my mouth. “Mm, you taste better than I imagined,” he beams, licking the saliva off his bottom lip with a satisfied grin.
My face flushes a bright red, my dilated pupils fixed on his gorgeous face, surprised by how much I enjoyed that.
“We have so much to do,” he coos, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. He takes my hand in his and pulls me along the house I had grown familiar with in my initial stay not so long ago.
The walls are mostly black with golden trim, the designs reminiscent of the Victorian era. The red satin chairs and couches complement the cherry wood of the rest of the furniture perfectly. There is no overhead lighting, instead the house is illuminated by the crackling fireplace and the towering stained glass windows that brings a sense of life to this otherwise intimidating mansion. Each room is covered in one of a kind classical paintings, such as The Two Angels, by Raphael and The Persistence of Memory, by Salvador Dali. These were some of my favorite pieces that I had learned about in my college art history class, surely them being here is no coincidence, and I have no doubt in my mind that he had found a way to get ahold of the originals.
A sense of urgency snaps me out of my thoughts as I remember the task at hand. “Wait, Luce.” I dig my heels into the wooden floor, stopping him in his tracks.
He smiles at the nickname and raises his brow in question.
“I need to see him first.” A sad look dawns on my face. “I made a promise that he would make it home safe”.
“You don’t trust me,” he says in an annoyed tone.
“You did kidnap me,” I remind him.
“Fair point,” he says amused. “I’m a man of my word, but if you insist.” He bows ever so slightly and gestures to a hallway that I have yet to explore.
I step ahead, hesitantly walking down the dark hallway, only illuminated by a few small torches that cling to the wall. It seems to go on forever, like one continuous tunnel with no end in sight. This part of the house has a much darker aura to it. Instead of the classy wallpaper and décor, the walls are made of crumbling cobblestone with twisting vines emerging from the cracks and holes. The temperature is different from the rest of the house, noticeably a few degrees colder. There are dozens of eerie doors on either side, bound to hold endless mysteries. Each one is made from different materials, none of which look inviting by any sense of the word.
His hand rests on the small of my back, leading me to the room at the very end of the hall.
I approach the old metal door, adorned with orange rust and clumps of dirt. It looks like the kind of door you’d find an old abandoned warehouse that’s withstood the rain for decades. I take in a deep breath and tuck my petite wings behind my back, preparing myself for the horrible scene that lies ahead. With renewed determination, I turn the rusty knob and push the door open with a long ominous creak.
My heart sinks as my eyes fall onto Castiel's bloodied, broken form, tied to a chair, surrounded by a ring of holy fire. He’s covered head to toe with blood. Red blotches stain his shirt and tie, and slashes ruin his signature trenchcoat. His head hangs low, eyes closed, looking defeated and exhausted.
“Cas…” my voice breaks. I can’t imagine the full extent of what horrors he’s been through in the last 24 hours.
His head perks up, recognizing my voice. His deep blue eyes meet mine. The usual seriousness and composure that he always wears, now replaced with a mix of surprise and relief.
“Y/N!” He exclaims.
I step closer until I'm just out of reach of the warm flames licking my boots. I place my hand on his stubbly cheek, rubbing my thumb across his tattered skin. Patches of dried blood flake off and leave a brownish crimson stain on my fingers.
He looks back and forth between Lucifer and I, searching for some sort of explanation. His eyes widen in horror as realization dawns on him, all signs of relief vanishing in an instant. “What did you do?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. He pulls desperately against the restraints that confine him to the chair, but even with his celestial strength, they don’t budge.
“I did what I had to,” I say with a soft smile, hiding the pain of knowing this is the last time I’ll ever see the angel I've grown so fond of.
“No…” he looks at me with pleading eyes.
I nod, tears welling in my eyes, threatening to spring free any moment. My wings wrap around me, in a subconscious effort to provide comfort. “You would’ve done the same for me.”
Lucifer clears his throat, attracting my attention. I drop the hand that caresses his cheek, already missing the feel of his warmth.
Castiel’s eyes stay fixed on me.
“How touching, you should really put that on a Hallmark card,” he teases.
I shoot him a look that could kill a man, completely unamused with his tasteless jokes.
“Well this has been a lovely reunion, but a promise is a promise.” He raises his left hand, pressing his thumb and middle finger together.
“NO!” Castiel yells, giving me one last panicked glance.
Lucifer snaps his fingers and the room turns white for a moment. The fire roars, reaching the ceiling and leaving little black scorch marks in a perfect circle. The flames calm down to embers, before fading completely and reveal an empty chair where my favorite angel once sat.
And just like that, the last of my life with the Winchesters is gone forever, slipping through my fingers like sand.
I slowly turn back to Lucifer, my watery eyes meeting his, surprised to find a hint of pity in them.
He crosses the room and pulls me into a warm embrace, kissing the top of my head.
I don’t fight it.
“For what it’s worth,” he whispers into my hair, “I am sorry.” he pets my wings in a soothing manner, sending chills down my spine.
I lean my head against his chest, placing my hand on his sternum. I sniffle and pull myself together, accepting that this is my life now and I better make the best of it.
Pulling back from his hug, I remove my hand from his chest and notice the red sticky fluid clinging to my palm. I step back and inspect his towering form. He's covered in crimson splatter from head to toe, even his wings are stained. I try not to think too hard about where it came from.
“You look like shit,” I chuckle.
He scoffs, probably not used to being insulted in a way that doesn’t end with him snapping someone's neck, but quickly gets over it.
“Let's get you cleaned up.” I grab his calloused hand, intertwining our fingers and pull him along behind me. I hurry down the long hallway, hoping to shake the ominous feeling that resides here and navigate my way back to the bedroom.
This room was initially my prison not so long ago. Despite the beauty and the effort that Lucifer put into making it comfortable for me, I still feel a twinge of resentment. It’s still my prison in a way, but can I really call it that if I chose to be here of my own free will?
I make my way to the bathroom, clearly remembering the luxurious bathtub in the center of the room, although at the time, luxurious isn’t the word I would use, probably more akin to suffocating.
I release his hand and shake off the unpleasant memories. Kneeling on the tile floor, I turn the knobs and the water pours out of the golden faucet. I’ve always found the sound of running water peaceful, it reminds me of the days I spent with my feet in the creek when I was young, a simpler time. I run my fingers under the stream, tinkering with the temperature until it’s a satisfying warmth. Using the bottle of bubble bath that he had acquired just for me, I squirt a generous amount under the stream, watching the fluffy bubbles form on the surface like a thick blanket. The heavenly scent of lavender fills the room, lulling me into a sense of relaxation.
Lucifer leans against the white tile wall, arms crossed and eyes fixed on me, quietly admiring me from afar. “You know, if you wanted to see me naked, you could just ask,” he jokes.
I don’t need to turn around to know that he’s got his signature smirk on display. “Don’t flatter yourself, you look a mess.” I roll my eyes, biting back laughter.
He chuckles, taking off his green button up, followed by his tattered beige t-shirt. It pools in a pile around his feet.
Satisfied with the level of water filling the bath, I turn the knob off and stand to my feet, drying the water off my hands onto my flannel.
“Okay, it’s ready.” I turn to see him undressing himself, not an ounce of shame in sight. I clumsily turn on my heels, facing away from him, trying profusely to hide the bright shade of pink that blooms on my cheeks.
“Like what you see?” He chuckles.
Although I’d never admit it, I can’t deny how beautiful he truly is. I wonder if he is just as stunning in his true form. What would an angel even look like? Would it be all wings and eyes like the bible says, or more of a glowing ball of celestial light like Castiel had suggested?
Lucifer steps into the water, the bubbles running up to his chest, covering everything below. He tucks his wings behind him, having trouble fitting his large wingspan into the grandiose tub.
Once I hear the sound of water settling I turn around to see him grinning at me. I give him a polite smile and return to my spot kneeling at the side of the bath.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me for even a second. “I’ve never bathed like this before, but I must say I understand the appeal now.”
“Yeah, it’s nice. One of the many perks of humanity.”
“Humanity,” he says bitterly.
“You know, it’s not so bad, I’m sure you would change your mind if you just gave us a chance,” I snap back defensively. I squirt a generous amount of the floral purple shampoo in my hands, rubbing them together until it bubbles.
“Hardly.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re the only human I could ever tolerate.”
“Not so human anymore,” I sigh.
“You’ll learn to love it.”
I run my soapy fingers through his hair, massaging the roots to really coat each strand. The white bubbles turn a light shade of pink, removing the blood caked in.
“Hmm,” he hums in delight.
“I think you’re maybe liking this too much.” I raise a brow in suspicion, but don’t stop.
“Is that a crime?” He asks.
“It should be,” I quip. Cupping handfuls of water, I rinse the shampoo from his hair, careful not to get any in his stunning red eyes.
He looks at me in adoration.
Grabbing the body wash, I pour some onto my hands and repeat the process of turning it into a bubbly froth. I start with his shoulders, scrubbing the dirt and blood that cakes his skin until it glistened.
His shoulders relax, his toned muscles releasing the tension that built up over thousands of years in a cage. He practically melts under my touch.
I move onto his arms and abdomen, stopping right where the bubbles from the bath lie, not prepared for that level of intimacy. All that remains now is his face. His stupid, perfect face.
He looks me in the eyes, studying my every feature as I bring my soft soapy fingers to his cheeks.
Carefully, I remove all the blood and dirt caked on his skin with gentle touches until his face looks as beautiful as the day I met him. I didn’t see it then, how stunning he truly is, but it’s something I can no longer deny. “Lean forward,” I demand.
“Hey, I’m the one that should be giving orders around here,” he teases, but complies, giving me access to his broad wings.
“Unlikely,” I reply. With a little more soap, I cautiously run my fingers along the top of his wings.
Lucifer hisses quietly, his wings stretching out as far as the bath will allow.
“Shit, did I hurt you?” I pull back immediately, shifting my weight onto my heels.
“No, no, please keep going,” he assures me, flashing me a convincing smile and relaxing his wings.
I nod, and return my hands to the same spot, massaging from the top of his wing to the end of his white feathers that glisten a royal gold under the soapy water. They are incredibly soft, softer than any silk in the whole world.
He moans softly, unable to hide how much he enjoys it.
I look at him quizzically, but continue cleaning them.
“They’re just really sensitive, but not in a bad way,” he says.
“I know the feeling,” I scoff, recalling the times I’ve touched my own wings.
“I’m sure you do.” He smiles, admiring the tiny wings by my sides.
I fold them neatly behind my back, hiding them as much as I can. I’m not someone that gets insecure easily, but I can’t help but feel inferior comparing my petite wings to his intimidating wingspan.
“I’ve never actually let anyone else touch my wings before,” he admits sheepishly.
“Really? I'm surprised. I assumed the devil has lots of demons lining up to please him,” I reply. I can’t stop the pang of jealousy in my stomach from picturing it.
He laughs, shaking his head no. “You’re different, you know,” he says softly, reaching a hand up to caress my cheek.
The Winchesters, Castiel, Christianity, they all make the Devil out to be some cold hearted villain. And maybe that’s true, but not with me. I see who he truly is, just a confused boy that’s desperate to feel loved for once in his life.
“Thank you Luce,” I blush. Finishing up his wings, I push myself up from my spot, resting my hands on the tub. I wipe my hair out of my face with the back of my hand, leaving suds of soap behind.
Lucifer smiles at this.
“Let me go grab you a towel.” I turn to leave the room.
“No need.” With a snap of his fingers, the bath is empty, he’s fully clothed and his hair, feathers, and skin are bone dry, as if he was never in the bath at all. He stands just a few inches away.
“You could’ve done that the whole time?” I snap, annoyed that I had just put all that effort into something that was completely unnecessary.
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that.” He smirks. He steps even closer, looking down upon me until our noses touch.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” I pout.
“Ouch, Y/N, you’ve wound me,” he replies sarcastically, dramatically grasping his chest as if he were having a heart attack.
“What else can you do with that angel mojo?” I cross my arms, leaning my weight onto one hip.
“Oh honey, you have no idea,” he whispers.
“Enlighten me.” I raise an eyebrow, keeping my gaze strong.
Lucifer lightly presses his forefingers to my temples and a surge of pleasant electricity flows through me.
I feel a cold coil intimately wrap around my core, clashing with the heat inside me. My vision morphs into a bright white light. It isn’t unbearably blinding, but rather comforting and peaceful. The world spins and the sound of thunder clapping fills the room. I feel an overwhelming rush of euphoria lighting up every nerve, better than any drug they sell on the street, it's like all of my worries melt away and all that’s left is peace.
His fingers pull away from my forehead and he wraps his arms around me to keep me steady as my vision returns and I come crashing back down to reality.
“What. The. Fuck,” I pant, still feeling a lingering high.
“Not so bad, right?” He jests.
“You’ve got to teach me how to do that!” I playfully shove him on the shoulder.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he pats my hair, “I’ll teach you all that and more.”
Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all, I smile to myself.
Y/n is just a regular girl whose dreams are haunted by the devil each night. When these dreams become a reality and she is forced to face her intertwined fate with Lucifer, her world is turned upside down. She is forcefully given the gift of grace and must learn to live with her new found powers with the help of two hunters and their angel. Will she choose to give into her destiny of loving the devil, or will she choose her own fate with a certain Winchester brother?
This story is 18+
This is a slow burn fic that has two endings which allows the reader to choose Dean or Lucifer. The reader is written as female, but descriptions are kept ambiguous to look like anyone.
Characters/pairings: Lucfier x reader, Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley.
General warnings for this story: Graphic violence, smut, and swearing. Other warnings may apply to specific chapters.
In an act of sheer desperation, Y/N prays to the one man that is always listening.
(1.3k)
Sam’s head comes clean off with a swift slice to the neck, rolling to the floor with a sickening splat. His knees buckle as his body collapses on the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around him. His wide, lifeless eyes stare at Dean, the pained look forever painted on his face.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yells with a strangled cry, his body pinned against the wall by an invisible force.
“Wait your turn,” Lucifer taunts, admiring his work with a twisted smile.
“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” He shakes with anger.
Lucifer shakes his head and laughs like Dean had just told him the funniest joke.
“Sammy…” Dean whispers, unable to peel his eyes away from his mutilated brother. Tears stream down his cheeks, a look of horror and sadness pains his face.
“Now,” Lucifer steps over Sam with complete disregard for what he’s done. “you won't be getting off so easily.” He stops, just inches away from his face.
“I know what you’ve been doing with my lover,” he growls, his irises glowing their intimidating red color. He caresses his cheek with the knife, just teasing the skin.
“Did you think you could get away with it?” He presses the blade just above his cheekbone, leaving a deep gash.
Dean grits his teeth, refusing to show his pain to Lucifer.
“Did you really think she could ever love someone like you?” Lucifer seethes, his face twisting with anger. “She is mine!” He growls. His hand flys up to grasp Dean’s neck, squeezing with an unrelenting force.
Dean desperately gasps for air, his eyes bulging and face turns a cherry red. “FUCK… YOU!” He chokes out, spitting directly in his face.
Lucifer growls and wipes the spit from his face in disgust. Without a second thought, he plunges the blade deep into his chest, taking pleasure in the gush of blood splattering his face.
Dean lets out a strangled scream that’s cut off by him choking on his own blood. His eyes widen with horror before going slack. His head drops forward and his body hangs limply.
“Pity, the game was over so fast.” Lucifer frowns. He releases his hold on Dean and his body slumps to the ground, twisting in grotesque ways. He crouches to his knees, looming over the bloody scene. “But it was fun while it lasted.” He smiles, admiring the gruesome scene he created.
-------------
“NO!” I shot up in my bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. Unrelenting tears stream down my face to the point my vision is completely blurred. My chest becomes tight, my breathing coming in more shallow until I’m full on hyperventilate. My wings curl around me, shaking.
After what feels like hours, I calm myself down enough to get a grip on reality and swallow down my panic. “They’re not dead. Not yet. I can feel it.” For once, my connection with Lucifer is a blessing rather than a curse. “There’s still time,” I reassure myself, calming my nerves.
Jumping out of bed, I grab the phone that Sam had given me for emergencies and dial his number with shaky hands .
“Pick up dammit. PICK UP!” I curse, pacing back and forth as the phone rings.
“It’s Sam, leave a message,” the answering machine says as if it were taunting me.
“We need to talk, NOW!” I leave a message, before disconnecting. I desperately dial Dean’s number, praying that he will pick up.
“This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”
“We need to talk immediately! I’m serious, you’re in danger!” I yell into the phone, before disconnecting the call once again.
6 hours. It’s been 6 fucking hours since I first called. No response. What’s the point of leaving me a number if you wont even pick up the phone.
I twirl the cheap burner phone in my hand, taking another sip of whiskey straight from the bottle. In times like this, I don’t see the point of drinking from a glass, I’d only have to refill it countless times.
I clumsily dial Sam's number again for what must be the hundredth time today. At this point, the sound of his voice on the answering machine practically burned into my brain.
“It’s Sam, leave a message.”
“FUCK!” I yell, just barely resisting the urge to smash the phone on the ground to pieces. I down the last of the bottle, still not feeling as drunk as I would like to be.
I can’t stop my brain from running a million miles per minute, replaying the thoughts that have plagued my brain for hours. I’ve considered the possibilities over and over, every single course of action I could possibly take. It all leads to the same conclusion. I know what I must do.
Calling up Dean’s phone for the last time, I pray that he answers. The phone rings and the last bit of hope that I hold onto slips away as the familiar recorded message plays.
““This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”
I sigh and pause for nearly a minute, unsure of what to say, before I bite down my fear and start talking. “Dean, I’m not sure what to say, but I want to leave you one final message. You and Sam are in serious danger. I had a dream that Lucifer kills you both, and I can’t let that happen. I know what I have to do,” I pause for a second. “I’m going to give myself over to Lucifer in exchange for your lives. I’ll ensure Castiel gets home too. This is my mess and I have to be the one to clean it up.” I fall silent, choking back the tears that threaten to spill.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I’m sorry it ends like this. I’m sorry for everything. I’m just… I’m so sorry Dean. I wish we never got into that stupid fight, I wish I could've told you how much I care about you, how you make me feel things I can’t explain.”
“Tell Sam, thank you for everything,” I sniff.
“I guess this is goodbye Dean, take care.” I end the call, the line goes dead with a long beep. I smash the phone on the ground, broken pieces shooting off in every direction, releasing just a smidge of the pent up frustration that I have been holding onto.
I wipe my eyes and put on my best poker face. I take one last look around at the bunker. It had once been an unfamiliar prison that I was confined to, but now, it’s like the home I’ve always desperately craved. A deep sadness radiates through my core as I give one last goodbye to my home and the only family I've ever had. I find my way to the exit, shutting off the lights and closing the door behind me.
Stepping into the outdoors, the sun shines high above the sky and thick foliage extends around me, as far as the eye can see. The fact that I am really in the middle of nowhere truly sinks in as I take in the world around me. The soft wind blowing in my hair is a feeling I had almost forgotten in my time hidden away in the bunker. The crows in the tall mossy trees caw and the mourning doves coo softly, perhaps the last sign of innocent life I'll see for a long time.
I close my eyes and pray to the one man that I know is always listening. “Okay Lucifer, come and take me. I’m ready.”
In a matter of seconds, the sound of wings flapping rushes through the wind and Lucifer stands tall before me. He’s covered head to toe in what I can only assume is Cas’s blood.
“Hello my love.” He gives me a cocky, but sweet smile. His eyes gaze into mine with an adoring look. “Just couldn’t resist, huh?” He chuckles. “I always knew you’d come back to me.” He places a hand on the small of my back and in the blink of an eye, the world spins and I’m taken far away from the bunker.
With Castiel missing, the boys go out to search for their angel, leaving Y/N alone again.
(1.4k)
TW: This chapter briefly discusses alcoholism
“Exorciza… exorcizamus… te omnis….” I slur out, butchering the Latin words far worse than usual, which I’m surprised is even possible, interrupted by the occasional hiccup. “Omnis.. immand… immundus, Ugh!” I groan in frustration, slumping my head onto the library table, the cool wood contrasting with my flushed face. I’ve spent all night rehearsing this damned incantation, never getting past the first few lines.
“How the hell does Sam do this?” I growl, staring down at my nearly empty glass of Jack Daniels Whiskey. I swirl the fancy glass cup of booze, the rigid sound of glass grinds against the wood that’s polish had begun to erode long ago. The clear amber liquid whirls in lazy circles, something I could personally relate too. No matter where my lonely life takes me, I always circle back to the sweet relief of alcohol, the one thing I can always rely on. Some people say life is better through a sober lens. I call bullshit, anyone who makes it through this place without a buzz is doing it wrong. Between the argument with Dean, Sam’s growing doubt, and Castiel up and vanishing, this is all I have left.
I down the last bit of whiskey, the familiar burn soothing my nerves. I stare down at my empty glass in distaste and carelessly slide it across the table. It hits a discarded book a few feet away and tips over, a single remaining drop falling from the cup.
I just want to go home. The message repeats in my head over and over. But then again, I don't really have a home to return to, do I?
Like it usually does, the whiskey catches up with me. My mind becomes foggy, my blood warm and fuzzy. I slump over, pressing my upper body flat against the table. The wood painfully cuts into my ribcage, but I'm too tired to care. The world spins around me and I close my eyes to fight off the impending dizziness and nausea, slowly slipping into a comforting slumber.
The blade bites into his skin, leaving fresh slices along his arms. Trickles of red race down his skin, joining the dry streaks of blood that came before. The wounds heal within seconds, even still he groans in pain.
He struggles in the rusty metal chair he’s chained too. The silver chains dripping with oil clang together in resistance. A small ring of fire surrounds him, the white flames remaining an unrelenting burn. He sits along the edge of the circle, the toes of his black dress shoes licked by the roaring fire. His feet fidget, pushing as far back as the restraints allow, desperately trying to escape the unforgiving heat. The stench of burning leather and thick black smoke fills the air.
Lucifer stands menacingly just out of reach, his shoulders back and head held high. The long knife he holds drips with blood, staining the grimey concrete below.
Castiel's clothes are covered in blood, oil, and burn holes. He breathes in heavy, ragged breaths. His ocean blue eyes lull to the ceiling. It seems they’ve been at it for hours.
Lucifer grabs a fistful of Castiel’s unkempt hair, violently yanking his head as far back as the chair would allow. “Now, tell me where you’re hiding her,” Lucifer hisses, menacingly twirling the angel blade in his hand.
“Go to Hell!” Castiel spits, grinding his teeth.
“Been there, done that,” he replies, looking rather bored. He crouches down to Castiel’s level, innocently gazing into his half lidded eyes. “I grow tired of these games brother,” Lucifer sighs, before plunging the blade deep into his shoulder.
Castiel lets out a strangled cry as Lucifer twists the knife. The sickening sound of flesh churning bounces off the confined walls. Blood trickles out of the laceration, staining his beloved tan trenchcoat a dark crimson shade.
“WHERE IS SHE!” He demands, his irises glow a bright red with passion, illuminating the immediate surroundings of the room.
“The Winchesters are coming, and you of all people know what they’re capable of.” Castiel laughs like a man that has lost his sanity.
Lucifer is not amused. “Let them come.” He stands, drawing the blade from the broken angel's shoulder and wipes the blood off onto his worn denim jeans. “I, for one, am looking forward to slaughtering them. I’ll make it slow and painful. I’ll take pleasure in watching the life drain from their pitiful eyes,” he coos, a deranged smile tugging at his lips.
“Y/N.” A big hand gently shakes my shoulder from behind. “Y/N!”
I jolt awake in a state of panic and fall out of my chair, smacking the hard ground below me that will surely leave a bruise on my hips. My heart races so fast that it feels like it could beat out of my chest any moment. “What the fuck Sam!” I yell confused, as I get my bearings and push myself to my feet.
“Sorry.” He puts his hands up defensively. “It’s just you were murmuring and shaking in your sleep, I figured you were having a nightmare.” He looks at me, concerned, trying to read my expression.
“Oh, uh, thanks?” The scenes of my nightmare plays over in my head, a sinking feeling washes over me as I remember what Lucifer is doing to Castiel at this very moment. “Ugh,” I groan, the hangover hitting me full force. I rub my temples to soothe the headache pounding against my skull and squint, the lights suddenly too bright.
“Fun night?” Dean quips, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
I roll my eyes, in no mood for his condescending jokes.
Sam picks up a green duffle bag that sits at his feet, slinging it over his shoulder. He brushes his long locks of hair out of his face, looking around the room for anything he might have missed.
Dean sits at the other end of the table, polishing an angel blade.
I grimace at the realization that it’s my blood that stains the white, and now red, towel in his hands. A twinge of guilt pangs in my stomach, recalling my actions two nights ago. “Where are you going?” I croak out, my throat unpleasantly dry.
“To find Cas,” Dean replies, not taking his eyes off the blade.
“What?” I sit up in my chair, suddenly feeling a sense of panic.
“We have a lead,” Sam replies. “We heard word from a hunter that he may have been spotted questioning people around Chillicothe, Ohio.”
“You won't find him there,” I confess, my tone suddenly serious.
Both Sam and Dean stop what they’re doing, turning their undivided attention towards me.
“You got something you want to share?” Dean asks in an angry tone, slamming the angel blade onto the table with a loud clang.
“Lucifer has him and… he’s not doing well.”
Dean's expression drops from angry to concerned, morphing into vengeful.
“Y/N,” Sam steps in front of me. “I need you to tell us everything you know.” He looks me in the eye, giving me a pleading look.
“He’s being held captive in some sort of dungeon.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Lucifer’s torturing him with an angel blade and he’s surrounded by a small ring of fire.”
“Holy fire,” Sam says to Dean.
“Anything else?” Dean seethed.
“He wants to know where I am.”
Sam and Dean exchange looks. Sam tilts his head slightly, raising his brows in question.
Dean nods his head and grabs the blade, tucking it away in his leather jacket. “Let’s go get our angel,” he says, heading to the exit.
“You don’t even know where he is!” I yell, trying my best to get them to stay. Tears well in my eyes as I remember what Lucifer plans to do to them.
“Then we’ll figure it out,” Sam replies, turning away from me and trailing behind Dean.
“Wait!” I run and grab onto Dean's hand. “Take me with you, I can help!” I plead, meeting his eyes with a desperate look.
Dean thinks for a second, his face turning cold as stone. “You’d just slow us down.” He rips his hand away and walks out the door.
Sam gives me a sorrowful look, before following his brother.
And just like that, they’re gone.
I sink to the floor, devastated, no longer able to contain my tears. I've never felt so alone.
The secret is out and the tension reaches a boiling point.
(2.6k)
The beautiful symphony of music plays, unlike anything I've heard before. It’s soft but powerful, the notes harmonizing and blending together in the most exquisite way, filling me with a sense of peace.
I find myself dressed in a beautiful flowing white gown, adorned with tiny diamonds that sparkle under the bright light shining from the crystal chandelier that hangs above us in the empty ballroom.
The elegant ballroom is filled with exquisite architecture that’s reminiscent of a fairytale. The marbled walls are lined with twisting golden engravings creating elegant designs. The white and gray columns tower over us, unique shapes and symbols carved into the stone. But perhaps the most stunning part of it all is the dynamic renaissance painting across the ceiling. Pastel depictions of angels and the peaceful grace of Heaven clashing against the dark armies of demons and black hounds of Hell. Among all the chaos is the battle of Micheal and Lucifer, the story I study like gospel.
Lucifer wears a matching three piece suit in a pristine white color that brings out the deep red of his eyes. His hair neatly brushed back and the usual blood that splatters his body is scrubbed completely clean.
I must admit, for a man that’s never seemed to care about his appearance before, he sure cleans up nice.
With my hand intertwined in his, we sway together, the click of shoes against the old polished wood echoing around. His extravagant wings flow to the melody and hold me close as we spin in coordinated circles. Our bodies press together, that wonderful electric feeling humming between us, pulling us ever closer. I press my face against his chest, breathing in his enticing smell.
He rests his head on the top of mine and hums along to the music, occasionally singing a quiet word of Enochian. His hand rests on the small of my back and moves up to caress the feathers of my petite wings.
I suck in a breath of air as he reaches the cusp of my injured wing, wisps of pain surging through me.
With a touch of his fingers, a white light shines through and the wound is instantly healed, the pain fading rapidly and leaving a cool sensation behind.
“What happened my beloved?” He asks, placing a tender kiss on the top of my hair.
Lucifer always seems to know more about me then he lets on, but I play along with his little game regardless.
“Did Dean do something to you?” He tilts my head to meet his gaze. “I swear to dad, I will make him wish he was never born!” His eyes burn with passion.
“No!” I blurt out. I rest my hand on his chest, trying to calm his sudden temper.
“Are you sure? Because I was really looking forward to finally smiting that petulant bug.” His lips twist into a mischievous smile at the thought.
“Dean didn’t do anything,” My eyes fall to the chestnut wooden floor, avoiding his eye contact. “I did this to myself,” my voice tapers off to a hushed whisper.
“Why?” He asks, his voice dripping with hurt, despite knowing the answer already.
“Because I don’t want to be an angel, Lucifer! I want to be me!” Hot tears brim my eyes, threatening to spill at any second.
“Oh, Darling.” He cups my face in his hands, wrapping his large white wings around us, shielding me from the light that has suddenly become all too bright. “This is your true form. This is who you were always meant to be.” He tenderly kisses my forehead.
I shake my head, utterly conflicted by the rush of emotions. I meet his gaze with wide eyes. The tears break free, racing down my cheeks.
“You are my fathers finest creation.” He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “I didn’t think it possible that you could be any more beautiful, yet here you are my love,” he coos, running his eyes over every inch of me, admiring me as if I were the forbidden apple in the garden of eden. He pulls me into his warm embrace, the magnetic feeling courses through me, I feel as if I'm floating on a cloud.
“Oh, Luce,” I sigh into his chest.
“We’ll be reunited very soon and you’ll see why it must be this way,” he promises, running his fingers through my delicate feathers.
I close my eyes at the feeling and find myself fading from the realm of dreams.
The soft murmurs of voices down the hall pulls me out of my peaceful dream that my mind scrambles to hold on to, desperate to return.
After a minute of resistance, I stretch my arms far above my head and yawn, feeling refreshed after a good night of sleep. Yesterday's events must have really taken a lot out of me. Looking to my left, I notice the messy nest of sheets and pillows where Dean Winchester once slept, holding me in his arms. The memory leaves a soft smile on my face.
I throw the silk sheets off of me and stand from the bed, leaving my comfortable paradise. I grab a flannel off the floor and attempt to put it on, but it gets stuck above my wings, leaving me still completely exposed. I huff and tear at the threads in the back, carelessly ripping open two uneven holes. I constrict my wings into uncomfortable angles and force them through the mangled shirt. This angel business is bound to affect my life in many unforeseen ways.
I step out of my room and tiptoe down the hallway that leads to the library. As I grow nearer, the three familiar voices become more clear. I stop and press my body against the cold tile wall, hiding just out of sight and listen intently to their conversation.
“I’m telling you man, something is seriously wrong,” Dean warns in a hushed volume.
I can hear him nervously pacing back and forth, his hurried footsteps giving him away.
“You should’ve seen what she was doing to herself! I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“So, what? You think it’s some sort of depression or dysmorphia?” Sam asks in confusion.
“Could be. It’s quite a drastic change,” Dean pauses for a second, “I mean you remember what it felt like losing your angel mojo and becoming human, right?”
“Yes, it was certainly distressing,” Castiel replies in his usual monotone voice.
“I’m… fine,” I say weakly, interrupting their conversation and stepping into the light. I clutch my hands together, nervously picking at the cuticles of my nails. I try to fold my wings behind my back in a pitiful attempt to hide them, but at this point they’re too large to disguise. I can’t help but feel self conscious as their undivided attention is directed towards me.
“Y/N,” Deans gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape, resembling a deer caught in headlights.
“Um, good morning,” Sam says, his face painted in surprise. His eyes scan over my form, unable to look away from my wilted wings, particularly the mutilated one wrapped in bandages.
“Look, I had to tell them,” Dean admits in shame, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m just worried about you, is all,” his voice drops to a softer, concerned tone.
“It’s okay Dean,” I assure him, swallowing the betrayal I felt deep down. “But really, I'm fine,” I emphasize the last two words, being sure to get my point across. My eyes flick over to the other men, they look back at me with doubt.
“You should let Sammy take a look at the wound, he’s always been better at this kinda thing than me.” Dean walks to my side, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder and guiding me to sit at the table.
I sink into the chair but sulk away from his touch. As much as I've grown to care for Dean, I can’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. It saddens me that someone I thought I could trust would rat me out so quickly. But I suppose all I was doing is delaying the inevitable, they would have found out one way or another.
Dean pulls his hand back, receiving the message loud and clear.
“Right,” Sam says and stands from his seat. His eyes still locked on my wings, undoubtedly having a difficult time peeling his eyes away. Without another word, he dashes out of the library.
The room goes uncomfortably silent, the awkward tension hanging in the air.
Dean leans back against the table, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, clearly feeling a sense of guilt.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair, my arms crossed and mind racing.
Castiel on the other hand, stands attentively on the other side of the table, his stare in my direction unrelenting.
Sam quickly returns with a bottle of whiskey and a small white towel. He pulls a chair out, the obnoxious scrape of wood breaking the silence. He sits across from me and clears his throat.
I frill out my injured wing, stretching it so that Sam may remove the bandage and inspect the wound.
He furrows his brows and carefully unwraps the damaged area. His eyes narrow and the bloody bandage falls to the ground. “It’s… healed?” His face scrunches up in confusion. His soft brown eyes shifting from my wings, back to Dean and Castiel.
“No, it was right there, I stitched it up myself!” Dean huffs, stepping forward. He hovers over me to get a closer look at the wing, running a finger over the area that was previously mutilated. His expression is a mix of surprise and confusion.
I close my eyes at his touch, doing my best to suppress the blissful feeling that burns in my body. “Hm,” I respond, looking at the perfectly restored wing. I shift it back and forth, the pain completely gone.
Dean throws his hands up, bewildered at my response.
“Hm? That’s all you have to say?” He shouts at me and runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
I shoot a spiteful glare at him, annoyed by his temper.
“It’s possible that her newly found angel grace may have healed the injury overnight,” Castiel chimes in. He steps closer and leans over the table intently, placing his calloused hands on the worn wood.
“It’s not my grace,” I say quietly, my gaze falling to the floor.
“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean barks, clearly fed up with the lack of answers.
“Lucifer… he healed me last night in my dream,” I admit, mentally preparing myself for the backlash I have deliberately been avoiding.
“He’s still communicating with you through your dreams?” Sam questions, his tone soft, much more understanding than his brothers. There’s no question that he’s the more compassionate of the two.
“Great! Well that’s just fantastic!” He roars, his voice a mix of sarcasm and anger. He bounds out of the chair and hastily throws a book that was sitting upon the table, in anger. It hits the wall with a crack and falls to the floor, ripped pages fluttering to the ground, landing in a messy pile. “Were you planning on telling us this anytime soon?” His face flushes red in rage and clenches his fists into tight balls.
I shrug, not paying mind to his childish outburst.
“So, what? You’re buddy buddy with the devil now?!” He yells, taking several steps towards me with no regard for my personal space.
“I NEVER SAID THAT!” I bolt up from my chair. It tips backwards and hits the floor with a loud bang. I look up at him, his face just inches from mine. Our eyes lock in an intense staring contest, waiting for the other to break.
“Alright!” Sam intervenes, stepping between us. “Take a walk!” He snaps at Dean, giving him a light push to the chest.
Dean furrows his brows at Sam and gives me one final resentful glare before turning on his heels and storming out of the room, grumbling angrily to himself on the way out.
I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in. I close my eyes, getting my emotions under control, something Dean seems incapable of.
Sam takes a seat and runs his hand down his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose, the stress evidently getting to him.
Castiel straightens up and stands still like a statue, looking unphased as usual. The scruffy angel resigns to silence.
“Look,” Sam says, gesturing for me to take the seat next to him. “We’re just a little frustrated you’ve been hiding this stuff from us,” his voice is calm and collected.
It takes the edge off of my anger and I relax into the back of the chair, the wood digging into my back. “I’m sorry Sam,” I sigh. “I’m just ashamed that he has this hold on me that I just can’t seem to shake. I didn’t want to concern you.”
He nods his head in understanding. “He’s the devil, a master manipulator, and he’s a natural at getting inside people's heads. Trust me, I know,” he chuckles like it’s some sort of inside joke. Sam silently shakes his head, looking as if he’s recalling some distant memories.
“But these things,” I resentfully gesture to my wings. “I’m a full blown freak!”
“You’re not a freak,” Sam states in a stern voice. “I know why you feel that way, but it’s far from the truth Y/N.” He places his large hand on mine that rests upon the table in a friendly gesture.
“Look at me Sam! These things are an abomination,” I retort, hanging my head in shame.
“Your wings are nothing to be ashamed of,” Castiel interjects, breaking his stoic silence.
I lift my head and look in his direction, suddenly reminded of his presence. He had been so quiet and still that I completely forgot he was here at all.
“They’re a sign of beauty and grace,” he assures, his pensive blue eyes meeting mine. “You are beautiful,” he says in full seriousness, his face softening just a little.
I’m seriously taken aback by his words. A compliment is the last thing I'd expect from Castiel, even Sam looks shocked. “Thank you Castiel.” I’m unable to conceal the blush that creeps upon my face.
“Hey Cas,” Sam asks, changing the direction of the conversation. “How come we’re able to see her wings but not yours?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but it likely has something to do with the fact that Y/N is partially human. Perhaps she is unable to conceal them the same way a natural angel can.”
“Wow, my luck just keeps getting better,” I reply sarcastically.
Castiel tilts his head in confusion. It seems that to some angels, sarcasm is a foreign concept.
“That’s probably why they look like this,” I say bitterly. “Short and stubby. Even my feathers are a rugged mess.”
Castiel frowns at this and Sam gives my hand a light squeeze.
“I mean compared to Lucifer's big majestic wings, these puny things are nothing,” I sigh.
Castiel’s head shoots up, his brows furrowed and face an unreadable expression. “You can see Lucifer’s wings?” He asks, seemingly caught off guard by this.
“Um… yeah?”
He straightens his posture, suddenly looking stiff and worried. His brows furrow and eyes flit back and forth, lost in thought.
“Cas?” Sam questions suspiciously.
“I believe I have a lead.” The sound of ruffling feathers echoes off the walls as he promptly disappears.
His reaction leaves me with more questions than answers, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.
Sam and I look at eachother, exchanging worried glances.
Whether he admits it or not, Castiel is hiding something.
Ashamed that Dean has discovered her wings, Y/N takes matters into her own hands to fix the problem.
(2.2k)
TW: This chapter contains self mutilation of wings that may be triggering for those that struggle with the topic of self harm. I am not trying to romanticize the subject, please don’t be afraid to seek help if you feel unsafe.
American Mental Health Hotline (1- 800 - 622 - 4357)
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My head spins as I clutch at my chest, willing myself to breathe in ragged breaths. My body shivers from the uncomfortable cold sweat that clings to my skin. My hands, feet, and tip of my nose goes numb, the feeling much like the buzz of a static TV.
I wobble to my feet and hastily pop open the buttons on my shirt with shaky hands. I shove the fabric off my shoulders and let it pool around my feet. Once again, I’m completely vulnerable. Staring myself down in the mirror, my eyes full of resentment at the twisted version of myself staring back at me.
How could you be so careless? Now he knows how much of a freak you really are! I scold myself, gripping the edges of the sink and hang my head in shame.
Taking a piece of bandage from the front of my chest, I carelessly rip it in half with the sudden strength arising from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I hastily unwind the wrap of musty bandages, revealing the tattered skin underneath which is now a blotchy red color from the lack of circulation. I cringe as I feel my wings pop free from the restrictive binding. Unsurprisingly, they’ve grown since the morning, reaching nearly a foot in length that now fall just above my hip. More feathers have filled in, some of them small, fuzzy, and gray, hugging the bone. And others that are long and white with a golden shimmer at the tips. They stretch out as far as their length will allow, trying to soothe the aching feeling from being confined for so long.
I glare at myself in the mirror, disgusted at how far I've fallen from the simple human I once was. This is what Lucifer wants. He wants me to become a monster just like him, trapping me into a life bound to my captor. This has been his plan all along.
I shake my head, my knuckles turning white from gripping the porcelain sink with the strength of a bull. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision and clouding my mind.
I know what I have to do.
Carefully, I grab the powerful angel blade off the bathroom floor, hugging it to my chest. If this is the only thing that can kill an angel, surely it will get the job done.
I turn on my heels and tilt my head back to see my wings clearly in the mirror, and with that it’s decided: they must be removed by any means necessary. I take a deep breath, gripping the angel blade, just as Dean taught me and press the blade to the top of my wing, just a few inches from where they distend from my back. I hesitate for a few seconds, my body shaking with fear and doubt that lasts for a fleeting moment. With one swift motion, I slice the blade across, cutting through the thin layer of flesh.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. I’ve been hurt before many times in my life and I have the scars to prove it, but nothing compares to the pain that radiates from my wings. They’re more sensitive than I ever could’ve imagined.
Blood dribbles down from the wound, staining the white feathers surrounding the area. The sound of quiet droplets hitting the tile floor below cuts through the silence of the room.
My breath comes in ragged and my heart beats a thousand miles per second. With renewed determination, I bite my lip and hover the blade, just above the incision.
“Y/N?” Dean asks from the other side of the door, startling me out of my trance. His voice is low and caring, but very clearly concerned.
“Go away Dean,” I reply weakly, biting back the sobs that so badly want to spill out.
“Let’s just talk about this,” he says in a kind voice. I hear a soft thud, presumably from him leaning his head on the door.
Part of me wants to stop what I'm doing and open the door for him, let him come in and comfort me like I know he can, but I don’t. This is how it has to be. This is how I break Lucifer's hold on me. This is how I reclaim my humanity.
Ignoring his pleas, I drag the blade further down the weeping laceration, sawing until the bone is exposed. I involuntarily hiss and drop the blade to the floor as agonizing pain surges through me. It makes a loud clattering noise that rings out like the chime of a bell. This time the results are much more severe. Blood pours out of the wound, drenching my entire wing in a sickening crimson coating. Feathers flutter to the ground in clumps, landing in the forming pool of blood below. The feathers that were once pure and white, now stained in my misery, forever corrupted by sin.
“Y/N? What are you doing in there?” Dean asks in a distressed voice.
I don’t respond, partially because I don’t want him to know the answer to the question, and because I’m unable to make any sound besides weak groans. My knees give out and I fall to the ground, slumping forward and tucking my head into my knees. I can’t stop the heaves of sobs that shake my body as the pain and torment becomes too much to handle.
“Y/N OPEN THIS DOOR!” He demands, knocking incessantly.
A whimper escapes my lips as the world slowly starts to spin. Every ounce of energy in me feels as if it's draining rapidly. My whole body feels light and the need to keep fighting slowly fades away, the pain grows dim and my mind becomes a blank slate, the emptiness feels warm and inviting.
The quiet clicks and jingles of the doorknob fill the silence, becoming more imperative by the second. With one final tick, the lock gives in and the door swings open with a bang.
I cusp my hand over the injury in a pitiful attempt to hide what I'd done.
“Oh fuck,” Dean gasps, immediately rushing to my side. He pulls me close and takes my head in his hands, panic taking over his features.
My eyes are unfocused and my skin is pale as a ghost.
He peels my hand away exposing the mess of flesh, feather and bone. His face drops.
I want to resist but I'm too weak to fight him. “Dean…” I groan softly, using all my energy to look him in the eye. Suddenly my eyelids feel heavy and my pupils drift to the ceiling.
“It’s me. I need you to stay awake, can you do that?” He says in a serious voice, lightly squeezing my jaw, keeping me grounded to reality.
I can’t manage a response as the words get caught in my throat. I blink slowly, widening my eyes as much as I can, trying my best to shake the sleepiness that so desperately calls my name.
He swiftly moves me to lie on the floor, dragging me away from the puddle of blood that stained my feet and hips. I should feel embarrassed that my half naked body is completely exposed to him, but it’s not even a concern that crosses my mind at this moment.
“I have to call Sam and Cas.” He states, fumbling for his phone.
“No!” I cry, “Please don’t tell them.” I meet his eyes with a look of desperation, silently pleading with him.
“Y/N -” He furrows his brows.
“I said no Dean!” I snap, followed by a soft, “Please….”
He thinks for a second before nodding his head and getting to his feet. With a sense of urgency he rushes to the cabinet and grabs the first aid kit, yanking it open with such haste that the flimsy plastic cracks and breaks under his touch. He rummages through the supplies, pulling out a needle and thread, as well as a travel size bottle of antiseptic.
“You’re gonna need stitches,” he explains. “This is going to hurt a lot.” He looks at me sympathetically, then guides my head to lean on his shoulder. “Bite down, it’ll help with the pain.”
I nod my head against his broad shoulder, trying to distract myself from the anticipation and anxiety riddling my mind. I can feel the nausea building in my stomach. I barely register his arms moving behind my head with precision as he threads the needle.
“Take a deep breath,” he orders.
I do as he says, attempting to control my breathing. The needle enters my sensitive skin, it feels like searing hot pain as he drags it through to the other side of the injury, pulling the thread taught. I can’t stop the scream that rips through my body. My wings tense up and fan out, trying to escape the pain.
“Shh, I'll make it quick,” he assures me, running a soothing hand down the feathers of my wings. The feeling it leaves is a pleasant surprise of soothing pleasure. I’m thankful for the contrast in sensations that temporarily distracts me from the searing pain.
I screw my eyes shut and bite down on his shoulder hard enough that I probably broke skin through his shirt as he continues to stitch me up. I sob in his arms, my tears stain his signature red flannel, but I'm too far gone to care.
When the stitches are finished he opens the bottle of antiseptic and pours a bit onto the wound. It should hurt like hell, but at this point my body is too tired to even register the burn.
“All done.” He strokes my hair, letting me rest my head on him for as long as I need. “You made it sweetheart.” He places a tender kiss on the top of my head. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
I lean back, a disheveled mess, allowing him to stand up.
He grabs a fresh towel from the closet, running it under the tap until it's soaked in clean water. He takes a seat behind me, tucking his knees on either side of me and tenderly touches the rag to the bloodied area around the wound.
I hiss at the contact, it stings, but I bite my lip and let him work.
Carefully, he drags the towel down each feather, mopping up the crimson mess that paints my damaged wings like a gruesome crime scene. He takes his time, working his way from the top to the bottom til the feathers are nearly clean, leaving just a tint of pink behind. Without exchanging any words, he runs his fingers through the soft plumage, correcting the placement of the messy crooked ones until they lay neatly.
I can’t stop myself from sighing at his touch. His fingers radiate pleasure throughout my wings.
“Gorgeous,” he mutters under his breath, placing a soft kiss between my shoulder blades.
“Th- thank you Dean,” I whisper, turning my head back to look at him, but still feeling a twinge of doubt.
“Don’t mention it, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice sweet and caring. He takes the excess of medical wrap and carefully wraps the cloth around the stitches, biting off the end with his teeth and tucking it away securely. He stands up and plops the dirty towel in the sink and washes away the blood that soaks his hands until the water runs clear, drying them on the sides of his jeans. Turning back to me, he lifts me off the floor like I weigh nothing to him and brings me to my bed, carefully laying me on the mattress, being mindful of my butchered wing. He scoots in next to me, pulling me close and wrapping his arm around my waist.
I rest my head on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing instantly calm me.
“Why?” is all he can say.
The question hangs in the air as I scramble for the right thing to say, but it’s difficult to explain.
“I tried to get rid of them. I had too,” I try to explain, but the words become lost in translation. “I’m tired of being a freak…” I say in a hushed tone.
“You’re not a freak Y/N.” His hands wander to my wings, carefully tracing each feather. “You’re beautiful,” he coos. “Promise me you’ll never do this again,” he says in a more serious tone, his eyes brimming with tears.
I falter for a moment, the thought of living like this for the rest of my miserable life leaves me feeling sick. But, perhaps one day I could also learn to love the wings that Dean finds so utterly beautiful.
“Promise,” I reply, tucking my cozying my head into his chest and wrapping a damaged wing around us.
He strokes my hair and I melt into his touch.
Despite the disaster I had just subjected us too, I feel protected in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt me.
“Sleep” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
And with that I drift off into a peaceful slumber, thankful for the safe haven that is Dean Winchester.
