crash and burn, tooth and bone
These are both from comment_fic; the first I posted there yesterday, but the comm won't load today, so the second ends up here. both are for Supernatural, so I own none of it.
Title: crash and burn
Prompt: Sam/Jessica!Lucifer, inevitable. for x_shorty1013_x
Wordcount: 206
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Jessica!Lucifer
Summary: Sam knows she's not real.
Sam knows she’s not real.
He knows, but that doesn’t stop his breath from catching in his throat, doesn’t stop his hand from reaching out to touch that golden hair, those perfect lips.
Jess smiles sadly and cradles his face in her hands, his head in her lap, and when she leans down to kiss him, her tresses tumble over his face, soft and shining.
He can’t bear to look away, but she gently closes his eyelids with two slender fingers and touches them softly as if in blessing. She strokes his forehead as she tells him how he can never win for losing.
Sam loses himself in her voice, the quiet half-whisper of every night they’d lie awake in bed, the soothing brush of her fingers on his face, his neck.
“I love you, Jess,” he murmurs, and opens his eyes, and she smiles at him, wreathed in flame, every bit as beautiful as the night she died.
“I love you too, Sam,” she replies, “and I’m the only one.”
But Sam doesn’t think about that. Sam feels the touch of fingers on his closed eyelids and sighs blissfully, brings his own hands up to tangle gently in that soft golden hair.
Sam knows she’s not real.
Title: tooth and bone
Prompt: Alistair/Dean, "you don't hate me, kiddo, you can't--you love me too much" for tigriswolf
Wordcount: 450
Characters/Pairings: Alistair/Dean
Summary: "I hate you."
Warning: a bit of gore.
“I hate you,” Dean hisses, and Alistair smiles, slides the needle in another half-inch so that its point breaks the bottom of Dean’s mouth, sting salty and wet above the numb movement of his jaw.
Dean can feel the cold sharp point against the underside of his tongue.
“Sticks and stones, Dean.”
“I hate you,” Dean chokes, muffled by the press of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Alistair slowly moves the needle up, down, around, tracing lazy signs and symbols against the quivering muscle, and Dean’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, can’t possibly press up any further, can’t possibly lift free of that sharp cool point.
“Do you really?” Alistair asks, concern on his pale face. He jabs the needle up, just a touch, and Dean’s eyes snap wide and his jaws quiver. “I’m hurt, I really am.”
Dean makes a noise, and it’s meant to be I hate your godforsaken guts, you bastard, but instead it’s a whimper.
“Oh, Dean,” Alistair murmurs, pleased, and the needle goes in, in, in. A sudden spasm jerks at Dean’s bones as steel pierces his tongue and drives on through, endlessly long and dragging at the raw flesh of his mouth.
Dean moans, and he’d love to deny it, but the closer he gets to death, however fleeting, the harder it gets. Here, where Dean is splayed out open on the rack, ribcage cracked and fingers peeled, the flame throws Alistair’s tall pale form into light, then dark, then light again, and Dean is fascinated by the deft sharp fingers and the blank white eyes, the twist and sway of a spine with far too many vertebrae, the predatory smile that gleams despite the shadows.
“I hate you,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a hungry whine.
Alistair eases the needle farther in, through the roof of Dean’s mouth and up. Black stars burst before Dean’s eyes, blood hot in his throat and ruined fingers grasping at air as he twists his head on the thin sharp metal.
Somewhere in the bloody dark he hears Alistair’s low chuckle, and he drives his chin down farther onto the needle, feels fingers catch his jaw and pull down, down, and it hurts like fuck, and he’s gone.
Gone.
As he fades back in, he’s almost disappointed to find that his jaw is whole, his tongue mobile and no longer tasting of blood. He blinks hazily up at Alistair.
“I hate you.”
"You don't hate me, kiddo,” Alistair drawls, reaching for the razor. “You can't-you love me too much."
The blade breaks skin, draws a slow, red-hot line from chin to collarbone, and Dean's spine arches up into the cut. “Ah-fuck-you sonofabitch-“
Title: crash and burn
Prompt: Sam/Jessica!Lucifer, inevitable. for x_shorty1013_x
Wordcount: 206
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Jessica!Lucifer
Summary: Sam knows she's not real.
Sam knows she’s not real.
He knows, but that doesn’t stop his breath from catching in his throat, doesn’t stop his hand from reaching out to touch that golden hair, those perfect lips.
Jess smiles sadly and cradles his face in her hands, his head in her lap, and when she leans down to kiss him, her tresses tumble over his face, soft and shining.
He can’t bear to look away, but she gently closes his eyelids with two slender fingers and touches them softly as if in blessing. She strokes his forehead as she tells him how he can never win for losing.
Sam loses himself in her voice, the quiet half-whisper of every night they’d lie awake in bed, the soothing brush of her fingers on his face, his neck.
“I love you, Jess,” he murmurs, and opens his eyes, and she smiles at him, wreathed in flame, every bit as beautiful as the night she died.
“I love you too, Sam,” she replies, “and I’m the only one.”
But Sam doesn’t think about that. Sam feels the touch of fingers on his closed eyelids and sighs blissfully, brings his own hands up to tangle gently in that soft golden hair.
Sam knows she’s not real.
Title: tooth and bone
Prompt: Alistair/Dean, "you don't hate me, kiddo, you can't--you love me too much" for tigriswolf
Wordcount: 450
Characters/Pairings: Alistair/Dean
Summary: "I hate you."
Warning: a bit of gore.
“I hate you,” Dean hisses, and Alistair smiles, slides the needle in another half-inch so that its point breaks the bottom of Dean’s mouth, sting salty and wet above the numb movement of his jaw.
Dean can feel the cold sharp point against the underside of his tongue.
“Sticks and stones, Dean.”
“I hate you,” Dean chokes, muffled by the press of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Alistair slowly moves the needle up, down, around, tracing lazy signs and symbols against the quivering muscle, and Dean’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, can’t possibly press up any further, can’t possibly lift free of that sharp cool point.
“Do you really?” Alistair asks, concern on his pale face. He jabs the needle up, just a touch, and Dean’s eyes snap wide and his jaws quiver. “I’m hurt, I really am.”
Dean makes a noise, and it’s meant to be I hate your godforsaken guts, you bastard, but instead it’s a whimper.
“Oh, Dean,” Alistair murmurs, pleased, and the needle goes in, in, in. A sudden spasm jerks at Dean’s bones as steel pierces his tongue and drives on through, endlessly long and dragging at the raw flesh of his mouth.
Dean moans, and he’d love to deny it, but the closer he gets to death, however fleeting, the harder it gets. Here, where Dean is splayed out open on the rack, ribcage cracked and fingers peeled, the flame throws Alistair’s tall pale form into light, then dark, then light again, and Dean is fascinated by the deft sharp fingers and the blank white eyes, the twist and sway of a spine with far too many vertebrae, the predatory smile that gleams despite the shadows.
“I hate you,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a hungry whine.
Alistair eases the needle farther in, through the roof of Dean’s mouth and up. Black stars burst before Dean’s eyes, blood hot in his throat and ruined fingers grasping at air as he twists his head on the thin sharp metal.
Somewhere in the bloody dark he hears Alistair’s low chuckle, and he drives his chin down farther onto the needle, feels fingers catch his jaw and pull down, down, and it hurts like fuck, and he’s gone.
Gone.
As he fades back in, he’s almost disappointed to find that his jaw is whole, his tongue mobile and no longer tasting of blood. He blinks hazily up at Alistair.
“I hate you.”
"You don't hate me, kiddo,” Alistair drawls, reaching for the razor. “You can't-you love me too much."
The blade breaks skin, draws a slow, red-hot line from chin to collarbone, and Dean's spine arches up into the cut. “Ah-fuck-you sonofabitch-“