handprint on your shoulder

Alive

Warnings: Language (only a little) only a little Gabriel (very sorry, might do a part 2)

Pairing: Oh wow, on a GabrielxReader blog? I wonder…

~~~~~

Dark. It was dark. And cold. The only thing you could hear was your own breath. It smelled to. Like dirt. You couldn’t see. It was all black.

You tried moving your arms. There wasn’t much space wherever you were. Your hands hit something not to far away from your face. Wood.
You grabbed a loose plank and pulled, only to be greeted with a mouthful of dirt.

It took what seemed like hours to crawl out of the hole. Why were you in a hole?

Oh. It wasn’t a hole. It was a grave. Your grave. The last thing you remember was…

“Let her go you creep!” You heard Dean say.

You chuckled. Well, not you you. The demon possessing you. “Dean, Dean, Dean. We all know that I’m not gonna do that.”

Sam splashed holy water in your face. It sizzled and burned on contact with your skin. Even if you weren’t in control it still hurt like hell.

You took that moment as a chance to take control. You fought as hard as you could against the demon inside you. “The…the knife.”

“Y/N?” Sam asked.

You stuttered “Kill it. Kill…me. Just-” You screamed. Your eyes flashed black and you smirked. “Go on. Kill the bitch.”

“Y/N we’re not gonna kill you-” Dean argued.

“DO IT! Please Dean it’s the only way!” You told him.

Dean picked up the knife and glanced at Sam.

“You kill me and I drag the bitch to Hell.” The demon spat.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

That was the last thing Dean Winchester said to you before the blade was pushed into your chest.

The demon kept its promise. You wound up in Hell. You could still remember the fire, the screams, the pain. After continuous torture you lost track of time.

You were alive. How? Did someone make a deal? Zombie voodoo or something? The cut on your chest had healed somehow.

You looked around. You were in a field. A few barren trees surrounded you but you weren’t far from the road. Snow? Wasn’t it June? How much time had passed since you’d been gone?

Ypu knew tagt the first thing you had to do was contact Sam and Dean. The only thing you had on you were the clothes on your back. You had to find a gas station or something. Shivering, you followed the road.

About half an hour later you stumbled upon a small Gas'n'Sip. You walked inside, the small bell on the door rang as you opened it.

“What happened to you? Ya look like you’ve been to Hell and back!” The man behind the counter commented.

Well, he wasn’t wrong. And you did look like shit. Your hair was strewn all over the place, your clothes covered in dirt. There was still dried blood on your shirt.

“Oh, i was in a car accident. Do you have a phone I could use?” You asked.

The guy pointed to a sign that read STAFF ONLY.  “Back there miss. You want me to call the cops?”

“No, it’s okay.” You thanked the man and headed into the staff room.

You picked up the phone that was attached to the wall and dialed Dean’s number. No answer, just voice mail. “Dean it’s Y/N. Just pick up already!” You tried again but to no avail.

Then you tried Sam. He picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello? Who is this?” God, it was great to hear his voice.

“Sam? It’s Y/N. I need you to-” beeeeep. He’d hung up on you.

You called again. “Sam. It’s me. I don’t know how but-”

“Enough. You’re not my friend. Whatever sick prank you’re playing-”

“It’s not a prank Sam! I’m alive! I don’t know how but it’s me! It really is.” You pleaded.

He was quiet for a few seconds before he asked “What’s our code word?”

You smiled. You came up with a code word in case of demons or shifters so you could make sure that you were yourselves. “Tacocat. It’s a palindrome. T-A-C-O-”

“I can spell Y/N.” Sam replied.

You smiled. “So you finally believe it’s me?” You asked.

You heard Sam sigh. “Pray for Cas to pick you up. Might take a few minutes though.”

“Yeah. My being alive is surprising, even for me. See you soon Sam.”

“Bye Y/N.”

You headed out to the store. “Thanks for everything. My friend is picking me up in a few minutes.”

You walked a few minutes to get away from the store. The air was cold. It had to be winter now.

“Castiel? It’s Y/N. I don’t know how, but I’m alive. Can you come to pick me up?” You prayed out loud.

“I’m here.” Castiel’s gruff voice made you jump.

You smiles and hugged the angel. “Cas buddy, it’s good to see you!”

He hesitated. “You too. It’s quite a shock though.”

“You’re telling me. Shall we head home?” You asked.

Cas touched your shoulder, sending you back to the bunker. It hadn’t changed a bit.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice asked.

“Dean, hey! I guessed Sam filled you in. On me…not being dead…” You smiled awkwardly.

“Missed you kiddo. Do you have any idea how you got back?” Dean asked.

You shrugged.“I really have no idea. You guys know?”

Sam walked into the room. “No. No demons would trade. No spells worked. Not even Cas could pull you out. You were in quite far.”

“Please. The last thing Y/N needs is questions. What she needs right now is a shower.” Cas spoke up.

“Thanks Cas. I’d be a bit offended if it wasn’t true. I’ve been in a grave for…”

“Six months.” Dean told you. “You’ve been dead for six months.”

You weren’t really sure what to say. Six months. “Wow. I really need a shower. Give me about two hours or so!” You joked.

The shower was great. All the dirt as dried blood gone. You walked into your room, which the Winchesters left untouched. It was also their idea to bury you instead of the usual hunter’s funeral. You threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

You walked into the library to find the three of your friends researching a new case.

“Guys, when I was in the shower I found this on my arm.” You rolled up your sleeve to show them the bright red handprint that was seared into your upper arm.

“Angels.” Dean said instantly.

You raised your eyebrow at the boys. “Dean got a handprint when Cas ‘gripped him tight and raised him from perdition’.” Sam explained.

“But you said that I was to far in Hell to be pulled out.” You said to Cas.

“I did. You were. I’m not sure who pulled you out but I can try to find out.” He told you.

You groaned. “It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?”

Cas nodded. He walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. The handprint started to glow. A burning pain ran through your body. Then it faded.

Cas looked shocked. “It can’t be.”

“Cas? What’s wrong? Who did it?” You asked.

Cas turned away from you to face  the boys. “He’s dead.”

“Will someone explain to me what’s going on? Who’s dead?” You persistently asked.

“That would be me.” A voice behind you said.

You spun around to find a man who wasn’t there a second ago, with blonde hair and golden eyes standing behind you.

Quick as a flash, Castiel pulled out his angel blade and held it to the intruder’s neck.

“Woah there bucko! You’ll take someone’s eye out with that!” The stranger told Cas.

Cas slowly lowered the blade. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel smiled. “Hello brother.” He said before turning to you. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

The Lonely Tree (Part 14.5)

Word Choice: 1644

Summary: You help Steve with one of his pieces for the art show.

Warnings: Language, Nat and Wanda and Maria being the absolute worst

Y/N: One more part guys… I’m gonna cry. 

Catch up here!

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

You arrived at the studio before Steve, and even though you had posed for him many times before, the formal setting made you feel more nervous than you expected. You had just slipped out of your coat and were fidgeting with the white leggings and white long sleeved shirt he had asked you to wear when he finally made his appearance.

“Are you going to tell me why I’m wearing all white, or are you just going to skip ahead to the part where you murder me? Just curious. Nice choice of venue by the way, very dark and empty.”

Keep reading

Life Lessons, chapter 3

In which the Angel Gabriel nearly ends up in the naughty corner…

Life Lessons masterlist

Here’s Mr Stan all ready for a day building nativity scenes and being adorable.

A/N: I’m up to my ears in work so I’m just splurging this out and not re-reading or editing or anything. Which is why it’s RUBBISH. I’m sorry.

Also, I’m aware that there’s way too much about being a parent and not enough action/Sebastian. Sorry. That sort of sums up my life. The next chapter has alcohol and kissing, which is way more fun :)


By the time Christmas was getting closer, you were convinced there was something between you and Mr Stan. But you were also convinced you were kidding yourself. He was a nice guy, in a caring profession. It wasn’t too much of a reach to assume that meant he was happy to talk and be kind, right? And you were nothing special, so it WAS too much of a reach to assume he’d be interested. You were disaster personified. Permanently covered in something sticky, it seemed. Permanently in a rush, forgetting things. You held down a difficult job but somehow outside that, chaos reigned.

But now that you worked fewer hours, there was time to be more organised, surely. You were convinced every morning that you’d got it right, that today would be the day you’d saunter through life with men and women left open-mouthed in your wake at your grace and elegance and style.

“You, um, have toothpaste on your chin”. No, not today then. Blushing bright red again (making Isabel gleefully shout ‘you look like Father Christmas’s bum!’) you scrubbed at your chin then pointed it at him to check if it was clear. It was only as he rubbed his thumb over your face and nodded that you realised that you had been maybe a little inappropriate. And you liked it.

Still, there was always tomorrow for grace and style.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! When do you think the writers began taking destiel seriously? I love the earlier seasons Cas was in; i very much enjoyed watching the beginning stages of their bond. But I don't believe it became a serious, consistent part of the narrative until season 6, when the writers thought "hey, we might actually have something serious here." And it didn't start coming out of the strictly subtextual realm i personally believe until season 8.

Hi! Sorry it took so long to reply, it’s been a weird busy day…

From the very start, the relationship (whether platonic or romantic) between Dean and Castiel could never be anything other than intensely important to both of them. I mean, you don’t pull a guy’s soul out of hell, rebuild his body and then leave your handprint burned into his shoulder on a lark. Regardless of how they potentially intended to write their interactions, that kinda put them in the Something Unexpectedly Profound box right from the start, no?

Dean may have been slightly overwhelmed by Cas for most of s4, but by the end he was comfortable enough to willingly show Cas some of his own vulnerability. He PRAYED to Cas for help when he felt overwhelmed in 4.18. Dean Winchester. Prayed.

And Cas… betrayed Heaven and his orders in order to offer Dean the help he asked for… even after being dragged back to heaven to be “reprogrammed” in 4.20. Dean talked him back around to the side of humanity.

That’s not something the writers were unaware of. That’s… a pretty intense friendship built on mutual trust and understanding, at the very least.

When did they start playing up a more obvious romantic tension? Yeah, probably during s6 (and it’s REALLY hard to look at 6.20 and not get even a little romantic tension there…). In trying to protect the Winchesters, Cas took the entire world upon his shoulders, and things just… spiraled out of his control so fast that by the time Dean learned the whole truth it was too late to abandon his doomed plan. Everyone had literally painted themselves into the worst of all possible “I did what I had to do” situations. BAD TIMES ALL AROUND FOR EVERYONE OW MY HEART.

But then s7 started with Cas apparently perma-dead. That gave us most of a season of brokenly pining Dean, but yikes…

Purgatory was probably the beginning of Dean and Cas being written more intentionally with romantic undertones, yeah, but heck they still had such a long way to go. A lot of that got derailed during the MoC arc to a certain extent (especially during the latter half of s10, which I won’t say anything more about lest I start screeching again).

But oh heck, s11 is where it really picks up again for me personally. Not just because we saw a lot of pining Dean, but because Cas’s PERSONAL emotional arc started up again (tunes up to screech about s10 again but refrains). We got the love and love triptych of episodes serving as the linchpin around which the entire season pivoted, and Dean going progressively more desperate to save Cas from Lucifer.

By s12, they’re married, so… :P

This is a weird place to stop typing, I know, but I’m out of words for now.

diana is forgiveness and loyalty and fighting an unendless, unwilling war. soft rain falling onto feverishly-hot skin, a quiet commanding presence, braided hair loosened by the wind and coming out of their bind. she is branches cracking underfoot, the slide of water running down your throat, the promise of being part of something bigger and cracked sunlight caught on your fingertips. she is quiet simmering hope and a sword being knocked away from your grasp. ivory bones and a gentle grip—the promise of a fight that’s yet to be had. she is the moment before the last vestiges of stars disappear off the horizon and dawn swallows the earth whole, dresses that look like small cities interwoven and your mother’s phantom handprint gentle on your shoulder. she is midnight speckled with ivory and gold. three stripes of sunlight seeping onto cold hardwood, eyes that look like they’ve been smeared with stars and the breathlessness that comes after a long run. she is the enchantment of fairytales and old legends blurring into something tangible, a venture back into old history books and knowing that no matter how deep you dig, you can never learn enough.

bruce is the hesitation of a smile, the warmth of a city sleeping and a battlefield’s blurred frontline. he is innocence crisping into ash and blood-splattered cobblestones, the scrape of knuckles against bruised skin, rain-soaked jackets, the bitter aftermath of funerals. he is the ocean softened by the rising sun and heartbreaking grins out of the corner of your eye, the promise of family and protection, marble tiles, calloused hands, the blare of police sirens that wake you up at midnight. he is courage that simmers at the heart of your palms—quiet and unspoken and lethal. he is worn-out maps curling off the wall, clean t-shirts and carefully polished boots, the quiet rumble of laughter when you finally get a joke. bared teeth, a steeled grip and quiet, steady confidence. he is a lesson on being and becoming. the coolness of dusk, the side of a coin you didn’t want to land on and crying out for your mother when you know she won’t come.

clark is pure unadulterated hope, a spine that stands tall with the strength of mountains, solid and unwavering in the face of the weight placed upon it. he is leaves crunching under heavy feet, stacks of old paper, carefully bandaged fingers and love letters written in black ink. he is the first moments of dawn slowly unfurling, the smell of earth after it rains. he is the boy made of sweet nothings and the kind of power that defies all odds all rolled into one, the kind you fall head over heels for only to have the rug swept out from under your feet quicker than you can bat an eyelash. he is the echo of water dripping from the faucet, newspaper clippings, post-it notes, worn flannel shirts, morning dew clinging to white petals. picking up wildflowers and pinecones and bringing them home in bucketfulls. disarming grins, a firm handshake and the subtle promise that although the world is determined to make you believe that it’s ugly, there is reason to believe that things are worth saving—if only you know where to look.

 more than human? | p. a. c.

Wanda Maximoff: Let’s Get You Home

Originally posted by olsenlizzie

Title: Let’s Get You Home

Prompt: So soulmate AU where each has a tattoo to depict part of the story of how they fall in love.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Violence, Swears

Word Count: 3467

Notes: I personally have a huge crush on Wanda and Lizzy so this was super easy, lmao.  Anyways, I hope you all are having a lovely day!

“You know what, Y/n,”  You turned your head to face your best friend, tilting it curiously.  “I’ve always loved your soulmark.  I mean, it’s just so cool!”

Your nose crinkled before you could control it; you had never felt too strongly about the mark on your shoulder.  Your soulmark always stuck out like a sore thumb on your otherwise normal skin, which you never really liked.  Now, you would think that this would be the whole purpose of a soulmark, but your body took it to a whole other level.  You see, your soulmark was a red handprint that glowed brightly on your shoulder, and even when you covered it with clothing it sometimes still glowed through.

For example, you were currently wearing your work uniform- which consisted of a black tee shirt, dark pants and an apron that read, ‘McCaffrey’s Cafe’- and your soulmark still emitted a faint reddish glow from under your sleeve.  At times the glowing bothered you, especially when too many people were staring at your shoulder.  

And yes, you were currently working at a restaurant.  They actually paid good money and since you were saving up money for school, which seemed like a good decision at the time.  The only thing you disliked about your job was that your boss was a misogynistic asshole that thought that all the waitresses were pining after him.  Every time you had to talk to him you had to hold yourself back from smacking him across his stupid face.

“Why do you like mine so much?”  You questioned, “You have a really cute one!”  Your friend’s soulmark was a small tattoo of a motel 6 sign, which was extremely accurate considering that they had met their soulmate when they were walking home, passing by the motel.  Their love story was quite a funny one, and quite a long one for that matter.  Definitely a story for another time.

“I just always thought yours was so interesting,”  She paused, looking at the setting sky.  “I mean, can you imagine what it means to have an actual glowing soulmark?  Your soulmate must be awesome!”  They threw their hands in the air, trying to convey their excitement for you.  You had always loved your exuberant friend.

“Yeah, but everyone always looks at me like I have a third eye.”  You sighed; you just hoped that your soulmate was worth all the ridicule you went through growing up with your out of the ordinary soumark.  

Your breath clouded in front of you as the pair of you sat in silence, enjoying the crisp night air.  You two were currently taking a break from work, sitting on the concrete steps in the alley outside the cafe.  You were leaning on your friend’s shoulder, warmth emitting from their body like a heater while your body was freezing.  You snuggled closer to them, glad to not only be close to someone, but to get warm as well.

“Guys,”  You internally groaned as your boss’s voice floated through the slit in the back door, “Your break has been over for two minutes.  Get back in here!”

You dusted off your pants before standing up, offering a hand to your friend.  “Come on,”  You said, giving them a small smile.  “Can’t keep him waiting now, can we”

They grasped your hand and you pulled them up into a standing position.  “Thanks.  Let’s go.”

The two of you walked back into the dimly lit cafe, turning your separate ways’ while they went back into the kitchen, you resumed making your rounds around the restaurant.  

“You’re such a slut, you know that?”  You narrowed your eyes at the couple in the corner in the room- more specifically, the man yelling at his assumed girlfriend.  “You just can’t seem to say no to any man that wants you to drop your pants, can you?”

A small near animalistic growl escaped your lips as you observed the couple’s fight; the way he was treating the woman was in no way acceptable.  Nearly everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, and from the looks of it quite a few people were getting ready to pounce on the guy, especially a group of six at the opposite end of the room.  The brunette woman in particular was readying herself to get out of her seat by the looks of it, and it seemed that her friends were not going to be close behind.  You couldn’t put your finger on it, but they looked familiar somehow.  You pushed it aside; bigger things were on your mind at the moment.

Before you knew what you were doing, your feet were leading you to their table.  A pitcher of water was still grasped firmly in one hand, but you could care less at the moment.  “Excuse me mister- what do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m teaching this bitch a lesson, but it’s none of your business anyways.”

Your eyes widened at the audacity of his words, and your world was slowly tinting red.  “I suggest that you leave before I do something I’ll regret.”

He scoffed loudly at you before letting out a chuckle.  “And what would that be, sweetcheeks?”  He slapped your behind before continuing, “Why don’t you just get us the check and we’ll be on our way.”

You heard a few muffled gasps from the surrounding tables as he hit your butt, but at that point everything around you was turning into white noise.  Your mind was filled with thoughts of disgust for the man, and you hastily placed the water pitcher on the table before grabbing the man and pulling him out of his seat.

“You’re done here, you’re leaving.”  You pushed him towards the door, praying that he would just leave before you did something that would really get you in trouble.

“Excuse me, but this is a public restaurant and unless it is closing I have every right to be here.”

You pushed up your sleeve and pretended to check the watch before replying, “Uh oh, it seems like we closed for you when you became a douchebag.  Sorry.”  You shot him a wide, fake smile before picking the pitcher back up.  He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Come on honey,”  He directed his speech past you to the small woman in their booth, “let’s get out of this dump.”  At this point she was shaking slightly, obviously horrified by the events that were unfolding.  You took a step in front of the booth protectively, turning your head towards her trembling frame.

“Honey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Don’t listen to her,”  His voice was nearly at a yell now, the entire restaurant silently listening to the conversation.  “you are leaving.”

“No she’s not.  Not with you.”

“This is bullshit!”  He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.  “You know what?  You all can go fuck yourselves.” He pointed at you before continuing his conniption, “You especially.”  He walked back to you and tried to grab the woman out of the booth, but you pushed him back.  

You then proceed to pour the entire contents of the water pitcher on him, ice and all.  Everyone in the restaurant looked stunned, but you didn’t miss a beat.  “I’d be leaving now if I were you- it seems you’re in need of a change of clothes.”

“You bitch!”  He held up his hand ready to slap your face, but a tall, heavily built blonde appeared behind him and grabbed his hand.

“I think it’s time for you to go.”  He said to the man, pulling him by his arm out the door and into the street.  Looking through the window you could see a heated exchange between the two men before the aggravated man left in a huff.  The blonde man came back inside and made his way over to your side.  “Thank you for stepping in, ma’am.”  He held out a hand and you shook it firmly.

“The pleasure was all mine,”  You replied, “Thank you though.”

Since you could practically feel your boss fuming from the back room, you took that as your queue to leave.  You gave the woman in the booth a small smile and a nod before walking towards the back.  As you walked away you saw the blonde man still standing where you left him.  You paused mid-step as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry about what had happened ma’am, would you like me to walk you home in case he comes back?”

Her voice was small, meek even, but she nodded while saying, “Yes please, thank you.”

Satisfied that the woman wouldn’t have to be alone you continued your walk into the back room, knowing fully well that you were about to walk into a shit storm of an argument with your boss.

***

What a shit storm that argument was.  He had yelled that he would have fired you if he wasn’t so low on workers, but not without claiming that you could be easily replaced.  He said that the man had every right to talk to the woman that way since it was a public restaurant and that you should not have acted out the way that you did.  You replied that this was a privately owned business and that anyone could be thrown out according to law.  He said that what you said was still unjust and out of place, especially for a woman, and ordered you to find the man and apologize for your actions.  You, in your state of anger, told him that he could go to hell and find a new worker.  You stood up from your seat and walked out of the back room, but not before promptly flipping him off as he yelled at your back.

By the time you were reaching for your jacket on the coat hook the sun had set and there were barely any customers left in the restaurant.  Your friend was waiting anxiously by the hooks for you to collect your things, and they signed with relief when you arrived.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.  I should have helped you, at least then we both would be fired.”

“It’s okay, I never liked the boss anyways.  Plus, you have your kids to take care of, you can’t afford to lose a job.”  You hugged them tightly, trying to convey that everything was going to be okay.  “Plus, he didn’t fire me- I quit.”  

As you let go of them their jaw dropped at your confession.  “What do you mean you quit?”

“He’s an asshole and I couldn’t deal with his antics anymore.  He wanted me to apologize for pete’s sake!”

“Yikes, I’m sorry Y/n.  You really didn’t deserve all of this.”

“It’s alright, I promise.”  You really hoped that they wouldn’t worry about you- they had themselves and their children to worry about.  “But I think I should be heading home now before the boss has another conniption.”

“I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Of course.”  You walked passed them and through the rest of the restaurant, ignoring the looks that some of the customers gave you- they must have heard the yelling.  You walked out of the door glumly realizing that you were now officially without a job.  You turned right and started to head back to your apartment when a hand shot out from nowhere, covering your mouth as their other hand pulled you into an alley.

God, could the universe ever give you a break?

The person pushed you into the cold brick wall of the building harshly, and you could already feel your skin bruising as your back connected with the hard surface.  “You know how much of a fool you made me look like?”

You weren’t sure whether to feel terrified or laugh at the dark voice of the angry man from earlier, so you settled on letting out a calm remark instead.  “I’m pretty sure you did that all on your own.”  You looked him up and down in the moonlight, noticing his change of clothes before saying, “Ah, I see you’re dry now- what a shame.”

His hands grabbed your shoulders and slammed you against the wall again, and you couldn’t help but let out a small groan of pain.  “Bitch, I wouldn’t be speaking if I were you.”

You rolled your eyes at his arrogance; you could easily take him over if you tried.  He was doing nothing to keep your legs down- his mistake.  You decided to give him one final chance to do the right thing before teaching him a lesson though.

“Man, I get that you’re mad, but please just leave before you do something you’ll regret.”

His laugh was dark and cynical, resonating some fear deep within you.  There was something seriously wrong with the man in front of you, and you were suddenly very aware that if you didn’t work quickly this could get very wrong very fast.  “You’re cute.  I’d really hate to ruin such a pretty thing like yourself, but no one disrespects me and gets away with it.”

One of his hands left your shoulder and found its way to your neck, clutching it tightly.  He clearly thought you weren’t going to fight back, and you used that to your advantage.  You quickly kicked him right in the crotch as hard as you could, making him release you with a cry of pain.  You pushed him back and took a long gulp of air, glad to be able to breathe again.  

“You bitch!”  He yelled, his voice filled with anger.  He ran at you and threw a sloppy punch, but you ducked and planted a firm punch on his stomach.  He tumbled backwards before catching himself, his eyes darkening as they laid on you.

“Please,”  You pleaded, “I’ve already had a bad enough night without you doing this.”  You really didn’t want to have to go in for work interviews with bruises on your face, and you hoped that he would just leave.

“I’m not leaving until you’re beaten bloody, bitch!”

“Okay, you asked for it!”  You ran across the alley at him before slapping him across the face.  He grabbed your wrist and twisted it harshly, a gasp escaping your mouth as he twisted it harder.  While you struggled to get your wrist free he used his other hand to punch your abdomen with his hard fist.  You stifled a noise of pain before butting your head against his, making you both groan loudly.

You skittered back, taking advantage of the fact that he released you.  You held your head for a minute, your forehead still throbbing where yours connected with his.  He let out a noise similar to a growl as he came at you again, but you swiftly sidestepped and let him run into the brick wall, smiling as you heard the sickening crunch of his nose connecting with the hard surface.

“You done yet?”  You questioned, and when he shook his head you sighed.  “I think you’re done, man.”  You turned to leave, making big steps to get out of the alley and into the world of the living as fast as possible.  You barely noticed as a group of people passed the alley in front of you before you were grabbed from behind.  

“Oh, come on man!”  His arms tightened around your waist, but you just kicked your foot back, planting it in between his thighs.  He let out a squeak before dropping to the ground, taking you with him.  “Just give it up already!”  You started to crawl away, but not before noticing his hand reaching for your ankle.  

You went to step on it, but before you could the entire alley was engulfed in a bright red glow.  The man’s entire body was outlined with red, freezing him in place.  You looked up, a mix of curiosity and thankfulness on your face.  Six people stood in the entrance of the alley, but you couldn’t quite make out their faces in the moonlight.  Your eyes widened as you realized that the blonde man from earlier was among them, recognizing his build easily.

“Ma’am, I know this is a stupid question, but are you alright?”

You let out a genuine laugh, still slightly stunned that you were being helped.  “I think I am now.”  You struggled to get up and he quickly made his way over to you, grabbing your arm to help you stand.  An unconscious flinch shuddered your body, your arm still sore from where the man grabbed it.

“Steve, your hand!”  A woman’s voice shouted, and he looked down, realizing what he had done before he quickly let you go.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright,”  You said, rubbing the place he had touched, “I’m just a bit sore, that’s all.”

The red glow faded and two of ‘Steve’s’ friends walked over to the man on the ground, each grabbing one of his arms.  “We’ll take care of him for you,”  One of them said, “sorry we couldn’t get here sooner though.”

“Why would you be sorry?”  You tilted your head at the shorter blonde man that had spoke, very confused.  “I’m just glad you got here when you did.  Now, who do I have to thank for saving me?”  It was the very least you could do for the people that had saved you, properly thanking them.

“Clint”  One of the men holding your attacker said.

“Bruce” Said the other man holding him.

“Natasha”  You gave her a nod.

“Tony”  He gave you a sad smile.

“Steve Rogers, ma’am.”  Before you could react to his famous name, he continued.  “And the woman that saved you is Wanda.”

You walked over to the woman called Wanda, “Thank you so much Wanda, I’m Y/n.”  

Her voice was so beautifully kind as she replied, “No need to thank me, really.”  She moved to shake your hand, but you evaded her hand, thinking that simply shaking her hand wasn’t enough.  However, when you noticed that her hand was softly overlapping the print on your shoulder, everything made sense: the red glow, your soulmark, how her voice was like music to your ears- everything.

You jumped back, eyes wide as you looked at her.  “It’s you?”

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked you over, wondering if you had some sort of head injury.  “What?”

Your hands fumbled with the neck hole of your shirt until they moved it back far enough to expose the glowing red handprint on your shoulder.  “It’s you.  You’re her, aren’t you?”  

You cursed yourself for managing to be the least articulate you had ever been in your life, but as Wanda’s eyes softened you knew she still understood.  “It’s nice to finally meet you Y/n.”  She moved towards you and enveloped you carefully into a hug.

As the two of you hugged your head rested on her shoulder, giving you a clear view of her friends.  While Natasha, Clint, Bruce and Tony were giving each other knowing looks, Steve just looked confused.  “Um, guys, what did I miss?”

“Hi Steve, I’m Y/n,”  You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face even if you tried, “And I’m Wanda’s soulmate.”

Steve looked extremely embarrassed as he realized what was going on, letting out a small ‘oh’ to himself.  

Wanda pulled back from you, just far enough so that she could look you over.  She frowned at the exposed skin on your arms where bruises were starting to form before looking up to your face, her frown deepening when she notices more bruises on your face.  She caressed your your tender jaw carefully with her thumb, and you moved into her touch.

Without another word, Wanda left your side and walked over to the man that had fought you.  You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him as you caught a glimpse of the fury in her eyes before she slapped him right across the face.

“You will never touch her, or any girl for that matter, again.”  Her voice was scarily low and menacing.  “Do you hear me?”

You prayed that he wouldn’t say some stupid remark for his own sake.  He gulped as Wanda stared him down, nodding his head quickly.

Wanda let out a satisfied noise, relaxing the rest of you; another day would pass without her true fury being unleashed.  She turned on her heel and headed back to you, intertwining her fingers with yours.  She planted a sweet kiss on your mouth, her lips soft against yours.  The two of you stayed that way for a couple of seconds, enjoying the pure bliss of being together.  After she finally pulled back, she whispered to you softly, “Now, let’s get you home.”

Mark Me Again

“Mark me again,” Dean says as Cas collapses beside him on the bed. They lie in a sweaty, breathless tangle, and this is new enough that the wonder of it is yet undiminished.

It took courage to say the words, and although they came out all in a rush (his tongue loosened by the intensity of his feelings in that ecstatic moment), the request was premeditated. He takes Cas’s hand and places it on his deltoid approximately where the print had once emblazoned his skin before it disappeared on that fateful day when the apocalypse was thwarted.

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It was September 18th when you woke up surrounded by darkness. Nothing you didn’t know, nothing you hadn’t grown used to. But this darkness felt different, felt real, had substance.

It was September 18th when you realized that this darkness was not hell, but a wooden coffin, six feet underground. So heavy.

It was September 18th when you realized you were alive. Your heart beating, your chest rising and falling from breathing. Your soul burdened and beaten, but not broken.

It was September 18th when you dug yourself out of your grave, clawed your way to the light, found yourself standing in the dead center of a circle, a field looking like something cosmic had happened, that something being you.

It was September 18th when you looked in the mirror. Healed from all wounds, but marked with a handprint on your shoulder. Red and glowing.

It was September 18th when you broke into an empty gas station and felt overwhelmed and frightened because of a force, of a noise ringing in your ears, causing stereos to turn on and glass to break.

It was September 18th when you were hugged for the first time with tender hands, with love and with care after 40 years of torture, of pain and fear.

It was September 18th when you first heard his name – Castiel.

It was September 18th when you summoned him. Into a barn, on the outskirts of town, decked out with weapons and sigils, ready to take down that son of a bitch, who burnt out Pamela’s eyes.

It was September 18th when you saw him arrive with thunder, storm and lighting. With spark flying and lights exploding.

It was September 18th when you shot him, put a blade through his chest and he didn’t even blink, but showed you his wings. Beautiful, dark and majestic.

It was September 18th when you learnt that he was the one “who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition”, that he was an angel and that god commanded to get you out of hell, because they had work for you.

It was September 18th when he looked at you, looked right through you and knew that “you don’t think you deserve to be saved”, that you “have no faith”.

It was September 18th when you formed “a more profound bond”. It was September 18 when it started, when not only he fell for you, but you also for him.

Part 7 preview:

You looked to Bucky, his hair was completely covered. The thunder still rolled outside, and the rain now subsided, small patters to your open window. Your chest rose and fell quickly, you never thought you’d be so happy to be in complete disarray. You lifted your hands, stained with purple paint that you hoped would come off. Your neck and chest had plastered fingerprints of purple and white, and your hair was full of paint substance. Your breathing slowed, and your heart rate began to calm. You closed your eyes for a moment, until you felt him hover above you.
“Still got it” Bucky laughed, “that was hot as hell”
You joined his laughter, opening your eyes to see handprints of your own across his chest and shoulders.
“I can’t believe that we did that” You giggled, looking to the complete and utter mess around you. The paint cans spilled over, the splotches of purple and more handprints on the wall.
“Damnit” you chuckled.
“We’ll fix it” Bucky sighed, pressing his lips to your neck quickly.
“Bucky.” You turned his jaw up to you, wanting to look into the icy blue eyes, “was this a slip?”
He waited a moment, his hand reaching to run the fingers through the paint filled strands.
“No.” He smiled, pressing his lips to yours.
You’d never felt a kiss from him like this, it was gentle and soft, full of adoration.