Witches Curse
Witches Curse
Words: 4,494
Warnings: None
This can be seen either romantically or platonically, I don't mind ^^
This was inspired by this incredible art and this idea by @carrie-tate . Check out her blog!! He makes amazing stuff :D <3
This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)
Witches sucked, Castiel decides, glaring over his shoulder and rolling the tense muscles out the best he can. The ache persists much to his annoyance. He sighs bitterly. Witches sucked so much.
Dean, Sam, and Cas had been hunting something that had been running rampant. Cures and curses had been popping up around Missouri for the last few weeks - all indicating a witch on a spell spree. It seemed pretty cut and dry, and Dean had proudly bolstered they'd be back in time for beers and a good slice of pie.
But because their luck could never be that good, the hunt went sideways fast.
They'd snuck into the house easily, and found the altar room where the witch was preparing a new enchantment. Slowly, the trio split up and crept around to circle him. Sam had the shot lined up perfectly, a finger easing on the trigger when Dean had accidentally knocked down a shaky stack of mismatched crockery from his hiding place - inadvertently causing Sam to misfire from the crash and strike the drywall.
Turns out, people don't take kindly to being shot at.
The witch lashed out instantly, a frightened yell wrenching from him as he blasted the first spell to mind at his intruders. The flashes of light and echoing shots of guns were overwhelming.
Cas, armed with only his angelic grace, slipped around the firefight to hopefully catch the witch in a blind spot and end this. Unfortunately, one of Sam's bullets ricocheted off the concrete wall and only just missed Cas's cheek. The close call made him gasp in alarm, giving away the element of surprise.
In a split second, the witch whirled around and rambled off a fast spell, causing pain to streak through Cas's shoulder blades. He yelled out, stumbling away from the witch and grabbing at his spine when the feeling spread and something shifted under his skin. It hurt.
A sharp bang burst through the room, something wet hitting the floor and quickly followed by the heavy thudding of dead weight. Dean's gun was still smoking from the fresh bullet, raised to where the witch had just been standing, but he practically threw it to the ground in his rush to get to his friend's side.
"Cas! Cas, you alright? Talk to me!" He demanded, hands splayed out towards Castiel as the angel writhed on the spot, still desperately clawing at his spine.
"H-Hurts-" Cas choked out, suddenly wrenching at the sleeves of his coat to shed it from his burning skin.
In an instant, Dean was helping him yank off the heavy material, startling at the sight of Cas's skin moving under his white dress shirt. "Cas, what the fu-"
"Guys, what's happening?" Sam demanded worriedly from where he was crouched by the witch, checking for a pulse.
"That son a bitch did something to Cas!" Dean growled, panic in his face as the angel suddenly gasped and twisted in place. "Cas-"
A sharp tearing sound burst through the room and all Dean saw was a mass of darkness before he was thrown back into Sam. The Winchester brothers fell in a heap on the cold floor, the older man slightly winded from the sudden impact.
"Augh, get off of me, Dean."
"Give me… a sec, man. Jesus."
Dean coughed for air only to yelp when his younger brother hefted himself up on his forearms - making the older hunter roll off of Sam's lower back and land facedown on the concrete with a grunt.
Sam looked from Dean, to Cas and froze. His lips parted in bewildered shock, eyebrows practically in his hairline as he registered what he was seeing. "...Dean."
Dean, hearing the awe in his little brother’s voice, lifted himself from the floor to look at the end of the altar room. He froze too.
"Cas?" He asked cautiously.
Castiel, angel of the lord, was standing at the edge of the room with a pair of hulking, black wings stretched out on either side of his body.
Cas was staring at the feathered appendages with round, blue eyes. Then, after a moment of silence, he muttered a gruff, "Fuck."
So yeah, witches sucked.
The trio of misfits had left Missouri quickly after the curse had been placed on Castiel. Unfortunately, due to how misplaced they felt on a human vessel, Cas didn't trust himself to fly back to the Bunker. Cas' wings protested the cramped space the entire time he was stuck in the backseat of the Impala, which only added to his agitated state. Sam and Dean tried to get him to open up and let them help, but he sent them a sharp look at every attempt and continued brooding.
As soon as the Impala parked, Cas shoved himself out of the car and stomped up to the woods, ignoring the humans' calls behind him. While he trusted Sam and Dean - hell they were his closest friends - having his wings exposed was a level of vulnerability he never knew existed. He couldn't handle their eyes on his angelic appendages for another minute.
Hours later, Cas is fully settled into bitterness. No matter what he does, he can't get comfortable with how weighty and awkward the wings feel in a human vessel. With his grace, the impressive appendages are cloaked safely, tucked away from any misgivings in the human world. The overexposure is downright uncomfortable now - the dirt scratching on his primaries and the wind upsetting the pristine layout of feathers. Cas hates this.
Soft footsteps make the angel turn sharply, his years as a soldier instinctively preparing to yank out his blade and stab whatever was going to make his life worse.
Dean quickly holds up his hands in alarm, taking a stumbling step backward and almost tripping over a tree root. "Woah there, buddy," he placates with a nervous smile, eyeing the sharp blade. "Let's not go all 'Michael Myres' here, okay?"
Cas glares, but he already feels his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. With a sigh, Cas re-sheathes the blade and sits back on the forest floor, wings hiking up around himself to hide from Dean.
"What do you want, Dean?" He asks in a choleric tone, not wanting to be disturbed from his self-resenting, but safe position.
Dean didn't shift from his spot, hands slowly lowering to sit in his jacket pockets as he worriedly stared at Cas. "Sam and I have been looking into the lore," he says, hoping to draw the angel's interest. "We're tracking down a way to reverse this."
Cas doesn't answer.
Dean, never one to enjoy the silence, clears his throat and tries again. "You've been up here for hours, Cas, I just wanted to come check on you. You haven't exactly been very talkative since you got hexed."
"I wonder why." Cas snips, hunching deeper into himself. "It's not like a witch cursed me to expose the essence of my angelic side."
Dean makes a small noise of regret. "Right- uh… sorry."
At the subdued tone, Cas closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. When he opens them again, he tries to sound more neutral. "It's not your fault, Dean. Thank you for looking for a cure."
The sound of crunching twigs lifts Castiel's head, turning to see Dean slowly approaching. His eyes are glued to the trees ahead, avoiding looking at the wings that are shifting uneasily. The lack of staring is honestly a relief to Castiel, and he appreciates the gesture.
When Dean is standing by Cas - far enough to give space but close enough to hear each other easily - he flicks his gaze to the bright blue eyes that are watching him carefully. "Any room on this hill for one more?"
Cas regards the hunter for a moment, then sighs and nods, waving a hand as Sam taught him to show he didn't mind. Dean sinks to the ground, grunting in mild discomfort as his knees protest the action. He really was getting too old for this hunting business, he wasn’t sure how many years left his knees had with this work.
Once seated comfortably, Dean clasps his hands over his bent knees and releases a breath, inhaling slowly to enjoy the crisp air. He doesn't get much of a chance to enjoy the Bunker’s surrounding woods.
“Can I ask something?” He inquires.
Cas nods in his peripheral vision, still tucked into himself glumly.
“What do they feel like? In this body, I mean.”
Cas lets out a deep sigh and rolls his shoulders, the ache persisting and prickling at his neck. “It sucks.”
Dean couldn’t stop the small laugh that left him at the bone-dry, deadpan answer. He quickly schooled his expression, turning to apologize, but there was a small smile on Cas’s face. The angel glanced at him.
“Humans weren’t meant to encompass the full weight and strength of angel wings,” he says. “It's why we keep them tucked away when we use a human vessel. It protects the human from extra strain and protects us too.”
Dean cocks his head to the side. “Protects you?” He repeats.
Cas gives a small, miserable wave to his angelic appendages. “Earth is beautiful,” he sighs. “But it is filled with things that can damage our wings. It’s safer for everyone if we keep them hidden.”
Dean glances at the glossy, ebony feathers standing tall over him. With a small hum, he smiles at Cas. “Well, despite the situation, I’m glad I finally get to see them. They’re really cool.”
Castiel glances at Dean in confusion. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I mean, most angels are depicted to have white wings, but having black ones? So fucking badass, man. If I was an angel, I’d be envious of em.”
Cas stares with wide eyes and a tilted head. After a moment, he shakes his head with a fond smile. “You never cease to confound me, Dean.”
Dean scoffs in bemusement. “Thanks?”
“You're welcome.”
The pair settle into a comfortable silence. Cas’s wings had come to rest on the ground, the puffed-up feathers smoothing down for the first time in hours. Cas too, had slumped into a more relaxed posture, his half-lidded eyes taking in the countryside. Dean, who was leaning back on his hands, snuck glances at the impressive wings every so often, captivated by their beauty and obvious strength. Dean did not doubt that Cas could easily smack him like a baseball with one of those bad boys. Yet, he felt no fear near the strong appendages. Instead, he got a weird, intense urge to ask one thing.
“Can I…?”
Cas turns to watch as Dean struggles to put his request into words, his mouth ticking up slightly in amusement as the human looks almost constipated. “Dean.” He says.
The man meets his eyes instantly, his nerves written clearly in the pupils though his face doesn’t show it. It was how Cas learned to understand the Winchesters over the years, emotion was all in the eyes, not the face - it was a rather endearing trait for the boys.
Wordlessly, Cas stretches out the wing closest to Dean, noticing the slight flinch in Dean’s posture as the appendage shows off its impressive size and build. One flap and Cas could send him tumbling down the hill, but he does no such thing. He holds it perfectly still and lets Dean register everything. Dean’s hands fidget on top of his knees, drawing Cas’s gaze to the shifting fingers. He smiles, despite his racing heart of exposing such a vulnerable thing to anyone who was not an angel.
“You may touch them,” he reassures quietly.
Dean swings around almost comically to stare at him. “Really?” He flits his gaze to the wings again and then back to Castiel. “I thought you’d smite me if I tried to ask.”
Cas gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften towards the man. “I trust you,” he offers, his voice just as gentle as his expression. “Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone do so.”
Dean noticeably swallows, lips parted in bewilderment. But whatever he is going to say, it doesn't leave his lips. Instead, he closes his mouth and shifts to turn to the wall of feathers. A hand leaves his knees and slowly raises to the wing, fingers just grazing the outer plumage. He huffs in surprise, the silky surface sliding over his skin pleasantly.
“Woah,” he mumbles, dragging his palm over the soft primaries. “Awesome.”
Cas has to fight back a shudder from the contact, though the slight tension in his brow catches Dean's attention. Immediately drawing back his hand in concern, he asks, “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Castiel answers quickly, his wing already missing the warmth of Dean’s palm. “Like I said, it has been… a long time since anyone has touched my wings.”
“Oh. Do you want me to keep going?”
“That would be nice.”
Dean’s fingers return to the feathers, carefully raking through the thick primaries with a gentle and curious touch. With how Cas’s wing has stretched to practically wrap around and encompass Dean, he has easy access to the entire appendage. Cas hums appreciatively and rolls his shoulders, the ache in his back easing up finally.
“Feel alright?” Dean double-checks.
“It feels… quite relaxing, yes.” Cas folds his knees to his chest and drops his head onto his crossed arms. He watches lazily as Dean slowly explores the wing. He registers a slight pull on his coverts and chuckles a bit. “Just don’t tug any of the feathers out, Dean. It’s not molting season yet.”
“You guys molt?” Dean repeats in surprise, looking from the wing to Cas, eyebrows high as he searches the angel’s face for any sign of jest.
Cas nods. “Of course. It’s a yearly experience, we have to do it to have healthy wings.”
Dean scoffs, but it’s in disbelief, not malice. “Wow.” He mutters, returning his gaze to the feather-endowed appendages. “You guys really are like birds, huh?”
Cas rolls his eyes and lightly smacks Dean in the face with the wing, pushing down a grin when the man splutters and pushes away from the offending limb. He looks at Cas in annoyance.
“Sorry, sometimes I can’t control the movement,” Cas smiles innocently. “Instinctive flexing, it’s completely involuntary.”
Dean scowls at him, but a smirk curls at his lip. “Dick,” he jabs light-heartedly.
“Ass-butt,” Cas replies in kind, settling on his arms and grinning.
Dean returns his focus to the wings before him and shifts his hand to rake through the feathers, smirking when he hears Cas hum again - it isn’t unlike petting a cat. The thought made Dean snicker, but Cas was too far gone in enjoyment to care.
The steady combing through feathers settles Castiel’s tense spine and brow, letting himself enjoy the sensations wholeheartedly. The last time he’d had the joy of having his wings groomed was back when he was a servant of Heaven. The angels often help each other maintain their wings to perfection, making it a bonding activity of sorts. It was a pastime Cas didn’t think he’d ever have the honor of experiencing again. He smiles into his arms. Figures that he’d be able to relive it with the Winchesters. They always managed to find ways to make his life interesting in some way or another, whether it be a good surprise or not. This, however, was a surprise he liked. The prior, bitter resentment from the curse soothed into simple bliss.
Dean’s fingers shift from combing through his primaries to his secondaries. The change makes Cas shift in place, the wing flexing a bit as the sensations sparked through the wing and down his spine. Dean paused at the reaction and glanced at the angel in surprise.
He took in Castiel’s posture, once relaxed and easy, now weirdly tense. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a marginal scrunch that draws attention to them. His simple grin was replaced with a slightly wobbly smile.
“Cas?” Dean asks worriedly, his eyes raking over the angel’s form in concern. “Are you good?”
“Y-Yes.” Cas’s answer was nowhere near as firm as his previous confirmation. If anything, Dean swore his voice sounded a touch higher pitched than normal. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?” Dean pressed. “I can stop if this is uncomfortable at all-”
Cas opens his eyes and Dean is surprised at the slight plead in his pupils. “Please don’t,” he almost begs. “I’ve missed this.”
Lips parted in surprise, Dean digests those words. Cas looked… well shit, he looked like he was desperate for this. A weird pang cuts across Dean’s heart as a thought hits him. Is Cas touch starved?
Getting himself together, Dean nods and sends the angel a reassuring smile. “Alright.” He concedes. “Just lemme know if anything is wrong, okay?”
Cas gives an answering nod, tucking himself back into his arms and stretching his wing out again. ‘Instinctive flexing’, Cas had mentioned before. Dean thought that Cas was joking, but maybe he actually was telling the truth. That would explain the sudden twitchiness, and after all, the angel had said he hadn’t had this kind of touch in a while.
Questions satiated, Dean lifts his hand and combs one hand through secondary converts. Cas yelps, his wing ruffling and shoulders leaping to his ears as his whole body jolts.
Dean wrenches his hand away in alarm and snaps towards the angel. “Cas-?” He demands, but then he registers Castiel, and all thoughts die in his head.
Cas has his knuckles pressed to his lips as he snickers, light sounds that seem so unusual for the angel. The force of his grin is causing his eyes to squint. The sight leaves Dean speechless, feeling as if he’d been thrown into an ocean and left to tread the waters with no help. Then, once the shock subsides, the puzzle pieces click into place and it's as if a lightbulb gets turned on above his head.
“No.” He mutters, his anxiety replaced with a sudden building elation. His grin builds on his face, “No way.”
Cas, who finally managed to settle the small titters leaving his lips, glances over at Dean with an endearingly confused face. “Uh, I don’t… I’m sorry, I'm not sure what that-”
Dean’s hand sweeps out to bury into the secondary coverts again, and Cas yelps for a second time, tumbling backward in his haste to evade the sudden tingling invading his senses. “Gah- De-Dehehean!” He chokes out through a series of tumbling chuckles, a hand lifting to his mouth again to muffle the noise.
Dean laughs, loud and excited. “You have got to be kidding me!” He grins, his hands chasing the wings down to the ground and scratching into the fluffy feathers. “You’re ticklish?!”
Cas wriggles from his spot on the grass, hiccups peppering between his startled laughter. “Dehehehean! Whahahat ahahare yohohou- AHAHAHA!”
Cas’s own words are lost to his mirth, his body trying to curl into a ball while his wings stay splayed out - eager for attention while the host of said wings squirmed uncontrollably. Dean snickers from where he’s settled beside Cas’s wing, his other hand coming up to hold the top of the appendage while the other sneaks in to tickle the feathers.
“Who would’ve thought, huh?” He grins, “Castiel has ticklish wings. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh this much, man.”
Cas’s arms don’t know what to do with themselves - the rapid electric tingles shooting through his body render him useless and flailing. He grabs onto his forearms and kicks uselessly at the grass, throwing his head back as laughter escapes his mouth.
“Dehehehean!” He presses out, his eyes squeezed shut instinctively.
“Yeah, Cas?”
“Whahahat ihihis thihihis?”
Dean snorts, mostly in surprise. “You’ve never been tickled before?”
Cas shakes his head rapidly, too caught up in his mirth to give a verbal reply. Dean, seeing that Cas is struggling for air, eases up on the sensitive coverts and settles back into tickling along the secondaries and primaries.
“Basically, you’ve got sensitive wings,” Dean explains. “Being ticklish is pretty common for humans, it’s our nervous system that makes it possible. Sammy can give you the whole scientific spiel of it if you want. My version, though? Touching the body in a certain way makes someone laugh, it’s a way to mess with people and a way to bond. God knows I tickled Sam so much growing up. He still gets these nervous giggles when people wiggle their fingers at him.”
Dean shakes his head fondly as he speaks and scratches along the bone of the wing. Cas suddenly bucks with a loud squeal, crashing back into the grass and giggling hysterically. Castiel was giggling. Dean’s grin widened at the sound though his eyes softened. It was rare when he got even a chuckle out of Cas, this was a whole dang gift basket in itself.
“THIHIhihihis feheheels sohoho strahahange!” Cas manages to get out, his cheeks growing pink from his ongoing laughter, and the subconscious embarrassment of letting out such an unnatural sound for an angel.
Dean wiggles two fingers into the bend of the wing with a look at his friend. “Good strange or bad strange?”
Cas squeaks in laughter, his hiccupping giggles coming back full force. “Ihihit feheheels nihihice? Buhuhut Ihihi cahahdn’t stohohop mohoving-” Dean’s fingers skim a particularly sensitive spot, causing Cas to roll onto his side, proving his own words.
Dean snickers. “Yeah, that’s normal. The usual reaction is to try and get away….” The rest of Castiel’s words clicked in Dean’s head. “Wait, are you saying you like this?”
Cas rolls back over and looks up at Dean through his eyelashes. ‘Ihihis thahat wrohong?” He asks through tumbling giggles.
Dean bites his tongue to stop his mouth from possibly making a fool of himself, but he can’t stop the endeared smile that spreads on his face. “Nah,” he reassures when he’s sure he’s got his emotions under lock again. He tweaks the sensitive spot on the bone just to hear Cas squeal again. “It’s not wrong, Cas.”
Questions answered, Cas lets his head fall back and simply laughs, his chest feeling lighter than it had in, well, ever. The tickling shifted from light skittering, to gentle scratching - Dean’s hand making its way across the sensitive areas. When he dropped to test the scapular of Cas’s wing, Castiel shrieked.
The sudden jump of octaves made Dean jolt in surprise, but he burst out laughing not a moment later as he watched Cas squirm and laugh twice as hard as before. “Christ on a stick, Cas!” He chuckles warmly. “Gonna scare off all the birds round here.”
Cas twists on the grass and holds his arms tightly, though one of them does let go to swipe in Dean’s direction, nowhere near close, however. “DEHEHEHEAN!”
Dean opens his mouth to answer when something soft brushes the exposed skin of his ankle from where his pant legs have risen. Turning to look down, Dean’s mouth slips open in shock. A little red flower, which was most definitely not there before, waves its petals in the light breeze. Dean glances around, and to his surprise, there’s a series of small flowers budding and growing around the pair of them, a mix of reds and pinks. Dean’s fingers have slowed to gentle tracing on Castiel’s scapulars, distracted by the small garden of flowers blooming. It’s a rather captivating sight, watching the flowers press through the grass to stand proudly in the sunlight, perfect and pristine to every petal.
Cas meanwhile, is being kept in a giggly form of purgatory of precise, tickling fingers. And as much as he’s enjoying the attention, he needs a break from that spot before he accidentally smites someone - namely Dean.
“D-Dehehean!” he gasps out again, “P-Plehehease!”
Snapped out of his stupor, Dean pauses in his wiggling motions, looking back to the angel who slumps into the flower-dotted grass with a giggly sigh of relief. The red flowers match his flushed face, leaning towards Cas from their angle of growth. Dean can’t help but stare.
After giving his friend a chance to recover, Dean clears his throat. “Cas?” He asks quietly.
A soft, warm hum leaves Castiel as he calms down, eyelashes fluttering open to look at Dean. “Mhm?”
Dean glances at the grass. “Did you… did you make these?”
The angel’s eyebrow lifts in confusion, turning his head to the side to where Dean is looking. “Oh.” He practically chirps in surprise. He sits up on his forearms, glancing around the field where flowers have sprouted. “Ah, yes, I think I did.” His wings rise carefully from the grass to reveal a series of little yellow flowers hidden underneath the feathers.
Dean’s eyebrows lift to his hair as he takes in the whole field of color. “What are they? I didn’t know you could miracle flowers out of thin air.”
Cas carefully plucks one of the yellow ones off the grass and holds it up to his face to inspect. “I have not made them since I was a fledgling,” he mused, turning the stalk in his fingers idly. “They are buttercups.”
Dean watches as Cas is captivated by the small plant in his fingers. He leans forward slightly to look at it closer, cocking his head to the side curiously. “Why’d you decide to pull out the green thumb again?”
Cas glances up and gives Dean a small, shy smile. “It was subconscious, I believe,” he murmured. “I haven’t felt this relaxed or happy in a long time. I suppose the flowers are a byproduct of my emotions, flowers do have meanings after all.”
Dean’s heart ached for the angel. He turned to look around again and admired the patches of petals. “Well, I think you made a fine batch of buttercups,” he commented. “Maybe you can grow a few different kinds of flowers around the Bunker. The lawn looks pretty sad, so some flowers would do it good.”
Cas’s face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. “Really?” he asked, “you would like that?”
Dean gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften toward the angel. “I trust your florist talents,” he says. “Besides, I think Sam would like it too.”
Cas grins, wide and warm. “Thank you, Dean.”
“Yeah, of course, man. If it makes you happy then-”
“Not just for that,” Cas cuts him off, his smile slipping back into shyness. “About… before. While this whole 'tickling' thing is new to me, I haven’t laughed like that in a while, and the wing grooming was appreciated too. So, thank you for that. It meant a lot.”
“Anytime Cas.”
Dean is left speechless for what feels like the sixth time that day. He takes in Castiel’s genuine smile and relaxed form, his blue eyes brighter than his angelic glow could hope to achieve. Dean finds himself grinning, soft and sincere.
More Posts from Vallee-ace and Others
am ace, so yes plz
Reblog if you think asexuality is a legitimate sexuality.
I'm trying to prove something.
Here it is! i got no idea how to feel about the accuracy of the test...
anyway, @thelavendersquid @carrie-tate and anyone else who wants :)
1. Do this uquiz
2. Do this picrew.
3. Tag people.
@mxlilly @circus-of-horror @yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair @microsoupmouse @the-firefly-jar-system @cdcouncil
cool! i use Amazon music, but let's see:
1: "Someone I Used To Know" by Gotye
2: "Thank You For Hating Me" by Citizen Soldier
3: "Body" by Mother Mother
4: "Sugar, We're Going Down" by Fall Out Boy
5: "Animal I Have Become" by Three Days Grace
6: "DARKSIDE" by NEONI
7: "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day
8: "We Didn't Start the Fire" by Fall Out Boy
9: "Cut the Cord" by Shinedown
10: "Hallelujah (I'm Not Dead)" by Citizen Soldier
I really chose the ten dramatic ones... 😅 I guess it's to be expected since I have 130 something songs.
anyway @koala-fluff @carrie-tate @thelavendersquid and anyone else!
tagged by @zelds-spellman!! shuffle your on repeat playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, tag 10 people (i do not even Know ten people)
'boy division' - my chemical romance (YEAHHHHH)
'AMBULANCE' - my chemical romance (even bigger YEAHHHHHHHH)
'chicken on a raft' - pyrates!
'dinosaur laser fight' - ninja sex party
'literal assassin's creed 4: black flag trailer' - toby turner (i am so sorry.)
'i own a car' - ninja sex party
'priest' - william crighton
'jackrabbit' - san fermin
'the last day of summer' - the lightning thief musical cast
'the gambler' - kenny rogers (from the nts kidnapped soundtrack <3)
oughhhh music <3
tagging: @firstmatedville, @natdrinkstea, @chiropteracupola, @sailorpants, @considerablecolors, @wilhelmina-murray-harker, @haijinks, and @fix-fax-fuckyou :3
IT'S SAIKI!!!!!! my favorite boi!!!
Day 16: New Discovery
Remember when saiki lost his powers for a sec? He absolutely got tickled for an extended period of time for the first time ever.
how about jason and percy having a tickle-off? whoever laughs the hardest loses :D
i suppose they're both the lee and the ler so feel free to do whatever you'd like with this!! may the best tickler win
As soon as I saw this request, I knew that it was PERFECT for our with @kanene-yaaay hcs that Annabeth and Piper would definitely argue about which of their bf is more ticklish someday.
There was definitely a dialogue between Jason and Percy when they were offered this "endurance test", in the style of
Jason "I'm afraid that..."
and Percy already with a twinkle of excitement in his eyes "Afraid that you'll lose?~"
And that's it, that all, guys, you signed your own sentence xD
GROVER!!!! there such a lack of Grover in the community, so YES!!!!! also Annabeth just being like "alright" 🤷 was perfect!
Bonds, Friendship and other strange things that are affected by it
Kanene’s notes: It’s been! A long time!! What a hello! :D Uhhhh, tbh, I am not sure when this is going to be posted because I haven’t finished writing the ending yet but at the same time I can’t think of an ending for it so dfgthyujuhygtffg let’s see which part of me will win when this comes out xD
(Edit: So, I came here to post it unfinished but !!! a suden lighting of inspiration striked me so!! dfhyujikjh yay! another fic! lets gooo)
Warnings: None. Around 1000 words of Lee!Percy and Ler!Grover because those two are incredibly fun and cool to be around and think about.
[~*~]
Grover cared about Percy. He really did. Of course. No one would create a bond that can possibily cost your life with someone that you didn’t trust as if the own Destiny had intertwined your existences to follow each other at the hardest times. Especially if that other person was a half-blood that was more into fights, problems and almost-death situations than most teenagers could admit.
So, yes, he loved Percy. He was his friend. His best friend. And maybe a brother, but this title was already well placed in Tyson and he was not about to fight a three foot tall cyclop for it. He had enough fighting and marrying cyclops for his life. Thank you very much.
Anyway. Love and Care. Yeah.
But this was starting to get ridiculous.
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Ler nico Lee Percy please
Oh, sure!
Thanks for request!
I love this!!!! HxH has always been a personal favorite of mine, so seeing the childrens happy is awesome!!!
Time to wake up
Hunter X Hunter
(Gon ler, Killua lee)
summary: Gon has brought Killua to meet Mito for the first time. It’s the morning after the first night and Killua doesn’t want to get up. Gon decides to motivate his friend and they both discover something surprising.
Words: 1.5k
Killua was woken by the soft creak of a wooden tile giving way beneath someone’s weight. Mere moments later, a hand shook his shoulder.
“Killua?” Gon chimed. “Time to wake up. Mito-San said breakfast is ready in fifteen minutes. We better be downstairs by then.”
Killua cracked his eyes open a bit, catching Gon’s ever-cheerful expression. It was too early for this.
“Mmmrmpff.”
Gon chuckled. “Was that a yes?”
“Mhmm,” Killua hummed and stretched, not intending to leave the comfort of Gon’s bed just yet.
He listened to Gon’s retreating footsteps and yawned, then opened his eyes. Sunlight was flooding the room through the window, illuminating the futon and abandoned covers that lay spread out in the middle of the room. Killua couldn’t help but grin. That’s right, he had rolled out the futon last night, fully intending to sleep on it. But then he’d decided to test out the softness of the far more inviting-looking bed and had fallen asleep there. Oops.
He finished stretching and rolled onto his back, realizing that this position was – much to his dismay – even more comfortable than the previous one. He was wide awake, but there was just no way he was getting up yet. As Gon’s footsteps approached the room, Killua decided to test his friend’s patience a little. Maybe he would leave him alone if he pretended to be tired enough. The door opened and he quickly closed his eyes, trying not to laugh at the momentary silence that followed. He could vividly picture Gon standing in the door and staring at him in disbelief.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gon muttered. “Oi! Killua!” he called, walking over to the bed. “I told you you needed to get up!”
Killua kept his eyes closed even as Gon shook him anew. There was a sigh and then suddenly the covers were pulled off of him.
“Nnghh,” Killua whined, doing his very best to feign discomfort. “G-Gon?” he slurred in the sleepiest voice he could muster.
“Well, duh,” Gon replied. “Time to get up.”
Instead of replying, Killua pretended to not have heard.
“Killua? Killuuaaaa?” Gon sighed again. “Really?”
Killua remained silent, curious to see what his friend would do now. Suddenly the mattress gave way on his right side as Gon climbed onto the bed. A huff escaped Killua’s throat when Gon slumped down on his hips with a little more force than would’ve been necessary.
Killua cracked one eye open and slightly lifted his head so he could meet his friend’s gaze. “Hm?” he asked, as if Gon’s behaviour required further explanation.
“Good, you’re awake then.” Gon said.
Killua feigned another yawn. “…Am I, though?”
Gon nodded. “If you can talk, you can get up. Mito-San is waiting,” he said, crossing his arms.
“But I don’t wanna,” Killua whined. “I am tired, and this bed is so comfty an- aheheh”
A completely unexpected chuckle escaped Killua’s throat in response to an unfamiliar tingly sensation that spread somewhere across his belly. Completely forgetting he was pretending to be tired, his eyes snapped open and he propped himself up on his elbows to stare at the fingers that were hovering just above his stomach. Gon was staring at him with an expression that matched the surprise Killua himself was feeling. Slowly, Gon’s face stretched into a smile Killua had never seen on his friend before.
“Look who’s awake all of a sudden,” Gon cooed.
“What was that?” Killua asked, frowning as Gon’s fingers began wriggling.
“Let’s see how fast you can leave this comfty bed now,” Gon grinned. “If you can.”
“What-” Killua began, but then Gon’s wriggling fingers descended upon his belly and the tingly sensation returned. Before he knew what was happening to him, Killua slumped back against the bed, laughing. He tried lifting himself up on his arms again only to find he had no control over his movements.
“Wh-ahah-y am I-I la-ha-ha-ughiiiing?” he managed to huff out.
The tingling stopped and Gon’s confused face appeared in his field of vision. “Wait, what did you just say?”
“What is this?” Killua asked, the smile he was still unable to shake audible in his voice. “Why am I laughing? What are you doing?”
Gon’s smile returned. “You mean this?” he asked and poked Killua’s belly.
“Ye-he-hes” Killua giggled.
Gon laughed. “I am tickling you, silly.”
Killua felt his face go blank. “Tickling?”
Gon cocked his head. “Wait, have you actually never been tickled before?”
“Uh, no,” Killua mumbled. “What is it? How does this even work?”
“I don’t know,” Gon laughed. “All I know is that most people have sensitive nerves at certain spots or something and when you touch them it tickles and you have to laugh.”
Killua tried to process this information as well as the fact that he had never heard of this before. He shook his head. “And why does it make people so helpless?”
A spark entered Gon’s eyes as he grinned. “It doesn’t,” he chirped.
“Yes, it do-“ Killua began, but Gon interrupted him.
“It just means that you are really, really ticklish.”
Before Killua could respond, Gon had already leaned back again and happily resumed wriggling his fingers against – no tickling – his belly. Killua dissolved into another fit of giggles.
Even though the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Killua decided he didn’t want to be completely at his friend’s mercy. So, he reached out towards Gon’s hands to push them away from him – or at least that’s what he tried. All he could manage was to grab his wrists, but from there his arms didn’t obey his command anymore.
Killua’s laughter intensified when Gon easily shook his wrists out of his hold and moved on to his ribs. For a reason Killua couldn’t quite fathom, the tingly sensation felt a whole lot stronger there.
“Oh, yeah,” Gon said, slightly raising his voice to be heard over his friend’s laughter. “Some spots are worse than others.”
“O-oh-ho-ho re-he-hehe-ally?” Killua laughed. “I-I-I could n-ah-hahahat te-hell.”
Gon laughed. “Although, if you can still talk it can’t be that bad. Time for a new spot.”
“No-ho-ho,” Killua huffed, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why he did. It felt like an appropriate reaction to fight back somehow. To keep his dignity maybe.
The last bit of his dignity dissolved however, when Gon’s fingers spidered across his waist and when Killua’s laugh went up an octave and turned into something more resembling a squeal than a laugh.
“Oooh, I think I found a good spot,” Gon teased.
“AHAHAHAH- NOOOO!! GO-HO-HON!!!” Killua half screeched, half laughed.
In the back of his mind, Killua became aware of his fists that were uselessly clenched against his own chest and of his legs that were kicking around as much as the range of motion – limited through Gon’s weight on his hips – allowed.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Gon moved his hands underneath the fabric of Killua’s thin tank top, squeezing the bare skin of his sides. Killua howled with laughter.
“STA-HA-HA-HAP!!” he pleaded “I-HA-HA-I CA-AA-AN’T!!!”
As the undignified noises leaving Killua’s mouth started to became interrupted by occasional fits of silent laughter, Gon finally stopped.
Killua just lay there, trying to calm his racing heart and his breathing which was still interrupted by a random giggle every now and then. His face felt hot as he rubbed his hands against his sides, desperately trying to get rid of the lingering tingly sensations there.
As Gon leaned forward to grin down at him again, embarrassment flooded through him and would’ve coloured his cheeks, were they not already red from exhaustion. He considered himself to be way stronger than Gon, but this had just proven that his friend now knew of a way to render him helpless in seconds. Seconds! And yet… Killua couldn’t deny that there were worse situations to be helpless in. Not that he’d every admit this to his friend.
Gon laughed, probably at the expression Killua had made while thinking all this. “You ready to get up now?”
Killua looked away. “Sure. Whatever.”
“Maybe this’ll teach you not to try to fool me anymore,” Gon went on, the smile audible in his voice.
“Huh? I wasn’t-“ Killua began.
“Oh really? You weren’t pretending to be tired then?” Gon asked. “You sure?”
Killua scowled. “When did you realize?”
“From the moment I walked into the room and you were still lying here,” Gon replied happily. “You never take long to wake up. It was already weird that you slept longer than I did.”
Killua blushed, embarrassed because his plan had failed so miserably and because Gon knew him better than he’d expected him to.
“Whatever,” Killua mumbled. “You can get off me now.”
Gon nodded. “Last one down has to take the futon tonight,” he exclaimed, already jumping off the bed and sprinting across the room.
“Eh? Wait! Get back here, you cheater!” Killua called, bolting after his friend and the sound of the giggle echoing through the hallway.
__
Thanks for reading! :) This is my first tickle fic, so please let me know if you like it. Might write more if I get some good ideas or some positive feedback.
by the fire (neji + rock lee) (platonic)
summary: it’s too cold outside to do anything, and lee’s bored. thankfully, neji is there.
requested: yes/no
fandom: naruto
warnings: this is a SFW fic, and contains tickling. all platonic, please don’t tag as ship
w/c: 1.1k
“I feel like the wind is taunting me,” Lee muttered, watching the snow twirl and dance in the winds from outside his window.
“Probably is,” Neji scoffed quietly, glaring up from his book, giving a slight shrug at Lee’s offended gasp. “It was a metaphor, don’t jinx it!” He huffed, tracing his fingertips against the fogged up window.
It was cold, really cold. “Why is there this much snow in the Land of Fire? Doesn’t that ruin the whole point?” Lee whined, moving to sit on the window sill.
When his back touched the frosty class, he jumped off with a surprised yelp. “Cold!” He cried, returning to sit near the fireplace of his living room.
“No shit it’s cold, it’s winter.” Neji rolled his eyes, not taking his gaze off his novel. “You’re cruel,” Lee grumbled, going up to sit next to his friend.
Keep reading
This is awesome!,!!,! Thanks so much!!! Merry late Christmas to you too.
Advent ( @squealing-santa )
Panda’s Notes: Was wracking my brain on what to write this year, until I saw an ad. >w< Enjoy this chaos. Happy After Christmas to @vallee-ace and all of you who joined Squealing Santa this year. Remember to give all your love to @hypahticklish for hosting and get ready to see what happens in the new year.
There was no such thing as tradition in the bunker. Then again, it was the first holiday season they’d all spent together here.
Thanksgiving—Friendsgiving—Whatever they’d decided to call it. It went off without a hitch. Nothing day-ruining, at least. A sprinkle-and-icing war or two during dessert-crafting makes for good photos.
Black Friday would be easier for everyone if they had two separate angels that can just zap them in and out of stores. Hell, one of them is even capable of not ruining surprises “for the lols”. Asshole.
Speak of the angel, Sam nearly flinched out of his chair when an ornate wooden, um—cone? Christmas tree. It was kind of a Christmas tree shape—was thumped loudly on the table in front of him.
“Happy Crimbas, Samwich.” Gabriel sneered, hands on his hips like he’d solved the energy crisis.
Sam stared at him for a moment, before looking at the tree. “It is November 28th…” He said slowly, his face stuck between amused and baffled. “We haven’t even gotten our tree up yet. We haven’t even talked about getting one for here.”
“Well, don’t talk about it, because we’re going to. It’s gonna be a big one that fills up that little space near the spiral staircase.” Gabriel tapped Sam lightly on the head with the edge of his hand. “But that’s not important right now. This is for you! Take a look already!”
Sam almost became wary when he said that. The tree did look pretty nice. He’d call it expertly carved; every detail painted intimately; the little ornament shapes and any corners sanded perfectly round and smooth. He would say all that, if it wasn’t for the fact that Gabriel could just conjure any item he could picture in his mind. Still, he couldn’t complain.
It’s the thought that counts. Literally, it seems.
“Have you seriously not noticed?” Gabriel griped, reaching to prod him again.
“Noticed…?” Sam murmured, having reached to nudge one of the ornaments. His eyes widened a bit when he found a tiny ‘9’ etched into it, and when he pulled a bit, a small compartment pulled away from the tree. Gabriel quickly bat his hand away, closing the little door before Sam could see what was inside.
“Is this thing an advent calendar?” Sam thumbed a dog ear into his book before setting it aside to try and examine the tree from other angles.
“Oh, wow, maybe you are the smart one.” The angel taunted, moving to lean on his shoulder.
“I’ll admit it; that’s pretty cool.” He fiddled around the tree looking for numbers, even though Gabriel was strictly keeping him from pulling when he found them. “How do you think of this stuff?”
“Unlike some people, I spend my time thinking about how to enjoy life.” He smirked playfully. “Now then, as you were so polite to remind me: it’s not December yet!” Gabriel tapped the side of the tree with one hand, and it blinked out of existence. “Sneak peek’s over, I’m afraid. Hope you’ll be ready when the surprise hits.”
Gabriel was gone before Sam could ask any more, and Sam chuckled softly and crossed his arms. Well, now he wasn’t interested in reading anymore. Point Angel.
--Day 1--
Sam’s brain practically rattled with the sound of jingle bells way too close to his ear. They were shaken gently—how merciful—but it was still too damn early. He flailed his hand toward the source of the noise, and he received a handful of cold metal, the little openings on the bells nibbling his palm. He opened his eyes groggily, and Gabriel was lying beside him with a Santa hat on with the ugliest Christmas themed pajamas.
“Morning, beanstalk.” He hummed, poking Sam’s nose before getting up.
As his eyes adjusted to being awake, Sam found his room absolutely decked out in decoration. Lights were strung around the ceiling and bedframe along with tinsel and ornaments, and small Christmas rugs were tossed around the empty spaces on the floor.
“I take it today is the first?” He grumbled, yawning as he palmed around for his phone.
“It is! Aren’t you hunter-types supposed to be more aware of things like that?”
Sam rolled his eyes, and Gabriel snapped his fingers. A tray appeared suddenly on the bed, only instead of a lovely breakfast in bed, Sam was presented with the familiar wooden tree on a plate. A cracked plate, because apparently this thing was heavier than it looked. Sam took the tree and turned it in his hands, a fond smile on his face as Gabriel crowded against his side to watch.
The number ‘1’ was etched beside a divot in the base, barely visible with the way it was painted. Sam just barely hooked his fingernail in enough to pull a tiny door, and a piece of paper stuck out of the compartment. It was about the size of a fortune cookie slip, with Christmas greens and reds along the borders and fancy writing that simply said:
“Merry?” Sam read out curiously, flipping the paper over. Yep, that’s all there was.
“Merry, indeed.” Gabriel nodded, and the grin on his face was suddenly devious.
In another snap, the tray and tree were gone, and Gabriel’s hands were on his ribs. They'd barely touched down before they were already scribbling fingers across his shirt.
Now, Sam was more than used to being rudely attacked by off-brand tickle monsters, but today, Gabriel wasn’t going full jumpscare. His hands were gentle, nails just barely grazing as his fingers ran wild. It was shocking more than anything, honestly, and Sam forced himself to believe that the shock overwrote the embarrassment that was coming from the childish, bubbling giggles that were shaking his frame. His legs tangled in the blankets as he kicked and squirmed. Gabriel got onto his knees to chase his torso across the bed, but he didn’t try to pin him down or even drag him back.
“And, stop!” The angel said playfully, grabbing Sam by the arm just as he had wiggled himself to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t watch where you’re wriggling, Winchester.” He pat Sam’s back lightly before pulling away from him with a grin.
Sam managed to catch his breath in less than half a minute, watching Gabriel sit up and stretch. That was it?
“Oh?” Gabriel sneered as he turned around.
Shit. Something, something, loose lips and all.
“Someone’s greedy all of a sudden.” The angel leaned into the hunter’s face as he sat up warily, but he only tapped him on the nose with one finger before hopping out of the bed. “But, alas, I’m a man of my word. Ta-ta for now, big boy~”
Sam hardly realized he was staring until the door clicked shut.
He already wasn’t sure he was going to make it to Christmas.
--Day 2--
Their little family was clearing the kitchen after breakfast. Cas was washing the dishes while Sam was hogging the last of the coffee.
“Rough night?” Cas asked, just a bit concerned.
“Nope.” Sam said shortly, putting the pot down and stepping quickly away from the machine while slightly hiding his mug in his hands.
Almost on cue, Dean came shambling into the kitchen; he leaned into Cas’s shoulder, not really kissing, just being there for a moment.
“I saved you some food.” Cas chuckled, shivering at Dean huffed against his neck and wrapped his arms around his waist.
“Don’t worry about it… Just need some coffee.” He grumbled, patting Cas’s stomach before pulling away.
Cas chuckled softly and nodded in understanding.
And then he actually understood.
Sam was already not-hiding in one of the libraries when he barely heard Dean cursing his name, and he snickered to himself as he finished his coffee while refreshing himself on his Latin.
“Wow, I think you might deserve this one today.”
Sam looked over his shoulder when he heard Gabriel’s voice, but when he turned around, that Christmas tree was on the table in front of him. He flinched when hands rested on his shoulders, but he smiled and picked up the wooden tree.
The number ‘2’ was on an ornament, and pulling it dragged a little pin out of the tree. Almost immediately, the little paper wrapped around it unraveled, and Sam managed to pry it away and read it.
“War.” He’d almost stammered as he said it. He looked up at Gabriel, a hint of concern in his eyes.
Gabriel just snickered, and the tree and paper vanished in favor of the single coolest weapon Sam had laid eyes on in a while: A plastic pump-action gun nearly the length of his arm with a belt of bright green darts feeding through it and a red water bottle giving it a satisfying weight. There were little LEDs in round cases dotting the case, and—this thing was just decorated like another Christmas tree.
“You like it~” Gabriel teased. It wasn’t a question, and Sam wouldn’t deny it.
“But, why exactly is today labeled—” It was a stupid question, and Sam was lucky he didn’t get to finish it.
“Charlie!” Kevin was laughing, and footsteps rushed loudly past the door. Sam recognized the sound of whistlers, and he took a few steps toward the loud clacking noises of darts hitting the walls.
“Get back here and face your death, you coward!” She shouted back without skipping a beat.
They had already passed when Sam peeked out into the hall, and he found himself looking back and forth as he plucked a handful of the darts off the floor and fit them into the holster that he definitely wasn’t wearing thirty seconds ago.
“Yeah, those aren’t going to fit in your pocket while you’re running, big guy.” Gabriel said playfully, slipping past Sam while dropping a pair of plastic goggles over his head. He fixed his own pair over his eyes, flaunting his hand before another dart gun appeared in it. “By the way, I told Deano where you were. He’s gonna be looking for this too.”
He snapped his fingers, and a bright green and red bandana tied itself tight around his wrist.
“They all are, actually.” He winked, and suddenly, he was gone.
“Game on, nerds!!” The whole bunker echoed with Gabriel’s voice, and the lights went out.
Sam shivered, and he found himself smiling in the blinking lights on the gun.
And then, some-fucking-how the bandana started playing music. Loudly. Of course.
“Sammy!”
Sam sprinted in the other direction.
--Day 6--
Sam’s face was buried in his arms at the dining table, and he flinched as nails dragged gently down his back.
“Is somebody feeling sick today?” Gabriel cooed close to his ear, pecking his temple before patting his back.
Sam glared at him. The past three days’ tags had been “Candy”, “Chocolate”, and “Alcohol”. All in a row.
“You know what you did.”
“I am not apologizing for Christmas.” He teased. He snapped his fingers, and Sam huffed as he heard a thump. He blinked as he turned his head.
“Is this thing getting bigger?” He asked warily.
“If it lasts more than four hours, I’ll be concerned.” Gabriel hummed without missing a beat, and he sneered as Sam glared at him again.
Sam nudged the top of the tree with one hand, trying to tip it a bit. Yeah, it was definitely heavier than he remembered. Gabriel leaned on his shoulder, looking down at him.
“Are you going to stare at it the whole time, or are you just waiting for me to make another joke?” He taunted.
Sam huffed and scanned the tree. It kind of felt different too, actually… The edges of the wood sort of flicked under his fingers as if he were brushing over paper.
He found the number ‘6’ on the green part of the tree, and he found it easier to fit his thumb into an edge that revealed a sort of hatch. A rolled piece of paper popped up, and Sam took it just before the tree disappeared. Gabriel pushed himself away as Sam unfurled the slip.
“Tinsel.” Sam chuckled for a moment.
And then there was a garrote around his neck. It was tinsel, obviously. But there was at least a percent of a second where Sam was going to have a heart attack.
“I’m not even pulling on it!” Gabriel laughed, leaning into his back and fluffing the tinsel against the sides of his neck.
“Y-You can’t just scare—” He’d tried to argue, only to nearly bite his tongue when the plastic frills dusted his ears. “Gabriel!”
Gabriel snickered, pressing a kiss behind Sam’s ear as he laughed and grabbed halfheartedly at his new boa. “Aw, c’mon, Sammy, you can fight harder than that!”
“You’re such a prick—!” His voice was caught up in louder laughter as his feet kicked slightly under the table.
--Day 10--
“Son of a—” Dean snarled, pacing near the stairs while glaring at his phone.
“You alright?” Sam asked casually, rummaging through the box of extension cords before looking over the railing.
“The goddamn hardware store cancelled the Christmas tree we ordered.
“Again?!” Charlie griped from under the stairs. “How many stores is that now?”
“Too damn many…” Dean flicked through his phone and growled again. “Everyone’s starting to run out now. Kevin, have you got anything?”
Kevin looked up from some lights he was untangling. “I’ve been trying to ask my mom since Thanksgiving. Every time I ask, something bugs out.”
Dean gripped the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Forget it for now. I’ll try Garth again once all this stuff is up.”
Sam descended the stairs enough to give his brother a reassuring shoulder punch. “Don’t stress out too much, alright? Garth has a way of coming through in the clutch. And if anything does happen, we can ask one of our resident troublemakers.”
“Your troublemaker, maybe.” Dean scoffed, smiling a bit. “If I mention it to Cas, he suddenly has somewhere to be.”
Sam paused for a moment. But he snickered with his brother about how skittish his angel suddenly was before excusing himself to the bathroom.
He actually ended up in his bedroom, which was still decorated with the stuff Gabriel put up on the first. There was also a suspiciously familiar wooden Christmas tree in the corner that came up to his knee.
“Looking for something, Samsquatch?” Gabriel was lounging on Sam’s bed with a Christmas catalogue.
“I might be.” Sam chuckled. He walked over and nudged the book in Gabriel’s hand. “Come on, lay it on me already.”
The angel grinned, resting the book against his chin with a coy gaze. He snapped his fingers though, and the tree was practically on top of his foot. “Well, if you’re gonna be impatient.”
Sam gave him a suspicious glance before kneeling to examine the tree. He had to admit it was a bit easier to look around the thing now that he could see the numbers properly.
The number ‘10’ was on another ornament, and the piece of paper came away easily when the pin was pulled.
“Angel.” The word was barely out of his mouth when he felt the air shift, and before he could move, six brightly feathered wings wrapped themselves around him and yanked him backwards.
The others didn’t even have the decency to send a search party when he started cackling.
--Day 14--
The hunter family returned to the bunker in kind of a storm. Doors were slammed, everyone was separated, and the whole building was silent. Castiel had said a witch was to blame. Some kind of truth curse. Things were said; secrets revealed. The brothers, especially, were hurt the most.
“Hey, Sam.” Gabriel tested his normal tone, but he knew better than to yell.
“Leave me alone, Gabriel. Not in the mood.”
Gabriel hummed, stepping closer to the bed and sinking down beside him. “Listen, um…Today—”
“Look, I know you want to do your present thing before midnight. I’m not up for any dumb games, alright?!”
“I know…” He hesitated to touch him, but he rested a hand on his shoulder. “That’s why I changed today.”
He snapped his fingers—quietly, somehow—and instead of the tree, Sam only felt a card slipping between his fingers. He growled to himself, but it was already here, so…
“Cuddle…?” Sam glanced over at the angel, and Gabriel shrunk just a bit.
“I, um… It’s up to you, obviously. If you really want to be left alone, I’ll go help with dinner. But, y’know… I’m here. Free hugs and all.”
Sam was quiet for a moment, and he eventually curled up and sighed, reaching to take Gabriel’s hand. “Stay with me?”
Gabriel stayed, squeezing his hand tightly.
Apologies were reluctant and bitter sounding, but the brothers were civil and calm at dinner.
--Day 15--
“Mistletoe…” Sam had woken up to the card taped to his hand. And also a weird headband on his head. A bit of wire dangled a very fake piece of mistletoe right in front of his face.
He’d definitely expected today to be embarrassing with that kind of setup, but now…
He couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused.
“I’m still pretty certain that mistletoe is supposed to be red.” Dean commented with half a grin as he flicked the wire on Sam’s head. This was not the first time he’d brought it up today.
“It’s white.” Sam chuckled, not really looking up from his book this time.
“All those dumb little hats we found back in the day always had red sprigs on them.”
“Holly berries are red.” Kevin called as he grabbed something from the cabinet and ran off. “Mistletoe is white.” In place of a kiss, he tapped his forehead on Sam’s shoulder as he passed.
“Honestly, Winchester, you think the Angel of Christmas wouldn’t know the difference?” Gabriel asked playfully, stepping up from behind Sam and pressing a kiss to his temple.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been full of it.”
Gabriel gasped, feigning offense, and they proceeded to argue.
Sam just shook his head and smiled to himself.
--Day 19--
“Any word from Garth about the Christmas tree?” Charlie asked softly, watching Dean pace again.
Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing. He said something about being busy in town lately, and I’ve barely heard from him at all besides check-ins.”
Sam sat nearby, keeping his mouth shut.
Earlier, in his room, he’d been met with a tree that now came just under his chin and distinctly smelled of very alive pine despite still looking like a wooden figurine. Gabriel looked very proud of himself and simply motioned for Sam to take his pick.
19 was up toward the top of the tree. A little door opened, and a folded index card practically jumped out as it was freed from the pressure. The first thing he got upon opening the folds was a burst of confetti in his face. The second thing was an…ache? Something in his head. Like a button press. Like a…switch. And the paper:
“Really?” Sam huffed, a grin on his face as he glanced at Gabriel leaning on his arm.
“Have fun~”
The paper vanished from his hands, and left behind an itch in his fingers. Gabriel, a coward, made himself scarce at the same time.
Back to the living room, around an hour afterward, and Sam was watching Dean and Charlie’s conversation over the edge of his tablet from across the room.
There’s a trick to catching prey, after all. And, also, for waiting out stupid prank curses.
Both come down to opportunity. Or lack thereof.
He had gotten here first in an effort—a hope, maybe—to keep everyone else away from him.
…Buuut, he also could have gone to one of the libraries. No one usually went there.
Dammit Gabriel.
In the middle of this thought, something spiked. Sam tapped his foot, trying to focus on keeping the energy down.
“Sam?” He flinched when he heard Castiel’s voice, and the angel eyed him curiously, having appeared right next to the chair. “Are you alright? You seem…different?”
Sam had looked up at him, and Cas squinted at him as he took half a step back.
“Cas, would you be able to drop in on Garth for us?” Charlie called excitedly, crossing the room at a jog.
Sam tensed, and Cas took his eyes off him for a second too long.
“Wait—” The angel had begun, only for Sam to spring out of the chair and wrap his arms around him. Before anyone could say anything, Castiel broke into loud laughter while Sam’s fingers scribbled under his coat.
“Sam?!” Dean called, chuckling as he stepped closer.
“Stay back!” Sam insisted, despite grinning himself and making quite an effort to wrestle the angel down. “I’m not—Gabriel did this!”
“H-He’s possessed!” Castiel supplied, voice giving way to cackles when Sam dug into his stomach and followed his squirming.
“Should we be worried?” Charlie snickered, stepping back when Sam took a step toward them.
“Please. Mojo or not, I can take Sammy, easy.” Dean snorted, cracking his knuckles as he decided he simply had to save his angel. Not to mention see if he knew how to drive out this so called “possession”:
A Tickle Monster.
Gabriel would.
--Day 23--
“I hate you so much right now.” Sam snickered. The card he’d found today naturally had only one word. And it was “Sweater”.
Gabriel had stuck him in something that felt less like a sweater and more like he’d been lost in the Christmas decorations for 20 years. The sweater was bright reds, silvers, and greens, and fluffy like tinsel. Lights—yes, a string of lights—crisscrossed between the stitches, and each bulb blinked out of sync with every other. There were ornaments hooked all over him and a star stuck firmly on his chest.
“You look adorable, Sammy!” Gabriel said simply, conjuring his own sweater that was equally ugly, but nowhere near as embarrassing.
Sam stuck his tongue out and pouted, allowing Gabriel to push him out by the shoulders.
He commiserated with Castiel in the living room while everyone else was picking the first movie of the day.
He also didn’t see the fun in purposefully wearing the worst sweater imaginable…
But the puppy sweater did suit him somehow.
--Day 24--
“Only one more sleep ‘til Christmas!” Gabriel laughed, throwing himself into Sam’s arms and hugging him tight. Sam chuckled softly and buried his face into his angel’s neck.
“So, do I actually get a present tomorrow, or was this little project of yours the gift?”
Gabriel scoffed, almost leaning away from him. “You really are greedy, aren’t you?” He teased. “Maybe this might be just what you need~”
A card appeared with a flair of Gabriel’s hand, but he hesitated to hand it over.
“Y’know, I have been wondering.” Sam hummed, playfully grabbing at the card as Gabriel dodged him. “I haven’t seen the actual tree in a while, have I?”
“You might see it.” Gabriel hummed, squeaking when the card was snatched from his fingers. He smiled warily as Sam’s face fell at the sight of the card: “All Out”
“Gabriel…” His voice came like a warning. That could mean a few things, after all.
“Yeah… Remember how we had that cuddle session when you were feeling down?” The angel explained. He snapped his fingers as he did, and Sam found himself unable to control himself. He sat down on the bed, and Gabriel followed him as his arms shifted him backwards up to the pillows. “I swapped the cards around since you needed that break early.”
Sam shivered nervously as Gabriel perched on his lap, and he was allowed to move his head to watch Gabriel summon handfuls of feathers and brushes to sort through.
“Unfortunately for you, that was the only break I planned.” He snickered, leaning close to peck his nose. The air shifted as his wings suddenly filled the space. “Good News, though, you’ definitely be tired when we’re done.”
--Day 25--
True to Gabriel’s promise, Sam slept like the dead that night. Awareness returned to him in the form of gentle jingle bells and the soft blinking of the lights around his room. The jingling came from a cute little Christmas clock on his bedside table, and it disappeared with a jangly noise when Sam reached for it.
He chuckled to himself and moved to sit up when he heard something crinkle.
A paper star, with all the awkward creases and imperfections of actually being folded by hand, had been set on his chest, and the number ’25’ was written on it in bold red sharpie. He handled it gently, afraid to crush it the wrong way; he found a gap that he could pull without risking tears, and it led to the star unfolding into a big square card.
“Christmas”
Sam smiled, forcing himself out of bed. His body still ached a little from their little session the night before, even though Gabriel “went easy” on him after an hour. A blatant lie, considering the phantom tingles he could still feel across his stomach.
The hallway was still quiet; it was around seven in the morning, but Sam could barely hear things clinking in the kitchen as he started to pass it.
“Sam?” That was Gabriel’s voice. “Hey, wait—”
Sam had sped up a little just to tease him, but he found himself pausing as he came to the common area.
Right against the staircase—practically making it inaccessible with the way it poked through the railings—stood a massive Christmas tree. There were dozens of different ornaments, lights of every color, and pieces of candy and chocolate bars wrapped around the branches on long strings.
“Hey, big guy!” Garth said brightly, looking up from where he was sorting the presents by name and stacking them into shapes. He stepped over the little toy train that was lapping the present pile to give Sam a hug. “I’ve missed you guys so much!”
Sam would never get used to the werewolf strength, but he hugged him back as tight as he could. “You told us you were busy!”
“Uh, yeah, he told you guys he was busy.” Gabriel stepped up beside him with a grin, and Benny followed behind him while licking strawberry jam off his fingers.
“Are you serious?” Sam laughed in disbelief. “This whole time, you—”
“It’s shockingly easy to fake some calls and emails to and from hardware stores, Sam. You underestimate me.”
“A tree that fills up the staircase… Y’know, I had a feeling at the beginning, but it looks better than I thought it would.”
“Aw, stop…” Gabriel practically glowed under the praise. “Let’s not keep everyone else in the dark, then. We need everyone up if we’re doing presents before breakfast!”
“You’d better rush them anyway.” Benny huffed with a smirk. “Those tarts don’t need that long to bake.”
Garth and Gabriel disappeared in their own ways, and it wouldn’t be long before the room was filled with noise as everyone was brought in.
Sam sat on the couch and just stared up at the tree for the length of the quiet. He breathed in the scent of the pine, and on the bright yellow star at the top, he could see the number 25 whenever the light blinked.
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i just exist... call me vall (pronounced vi). pronouns: she/they. aro-ace. 18 years. i write tk stories with my favorite characters and ocs. occasionally do art, too. frequently on hiatus (SFW thing from here only)
120 posts