#enter: roller blading demon!

[extraaa-30]

Crowley entering a church via rollerblades

that is all

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

How about a part two of Stella x owl reader? Fights between Stolas and Stella have become increasingly rare and his mood is improving, Stolas decides to ask about, unlike Stolas, Stella knows very well how to keep her piece of paradise a secret for now. Until one day y/n decides to visit Stella under the guise of business and to give his dear little owl a "luxury massage session", but things get a little out of hand when Stolas is caught with Blitzo. (you can ignore it if you want)

Stella with her Secret Owl demon S/O

Stella, for the first time in weeks, was having a good day.

They had actually become far more common in the weeks since your confession.

She had found herself being far less stressed as of late. So much so, she had only hadn't had a fight with Stolas in a full week.

She was relaxing in her study, enjoying a good cup of tea.

She was reminiscing on your night together, the next morning you had given her a small stack of letters.

They were all addressed to her, the condition of some of them implied they were written many years ago.

It only took a single letter for her to realise they were love letters.

Dozens of them.

She took her time, pouring over each letter. Taking in every word and detail. Emotions swelling in her chest as she read each one.

It was perhaps the most romantic thing she had ever seen.

The letters acted much like a record of your feeling for her.

It started from your more innocent affection for her as a child, all the way into your growing feeling for her in your youth, when you realised your feelings for her were beyond friendship.

And into your discovery of her betrothal to Stolas.

You poured your heart into each letter, telling her everything. Everytime you thought of her, how much you missed her, berating yourself for not just telling her how much you loved her.

You wrote about how much it pained you to remember you'd never get to tell her how much he loved her.

It was a roller-coaster of emotions. Some letters made her laugh. Others brought her to tears.

And by the end, she was clutching the letters to her chest. Her chest swollen with emotion as she experienced so many emotions all at once.

Her marriage with Stolas was... less than voluntary. The whole union being mostly political, arranged by there parents.

She had hoped love would bloom after Octavia's birth. But it hadn't, and after that she knew love was not meant to be.

But you, you genuinely loved her, for her.

You dedicated your life to being worthy of her.

You didn't want her for her status or wealth, you wanted her, for her.

She cood to herself dreamily, fantasising about your time together.

Her fantasising was cut short when there was a neck on her study door.

She quickly placed the letters into her draw before asking who it was.

Much to her surprise, it was none other then Stolas who entered her office. Her 'husband' looked about nervously, rightfully so, she supposed as he stepped in.

'Hello, uh, Stella.' He said nervously 'may I talk to you for a moment.'

Stella had a colourful collection of words she wanted to use at him. But instead she simply asked 'What do you want?'

Stolas cleared his throat, clearly not surprised by her callous tone.

Taking a few steps he began 'I've noticed this past few weeks you've been less... confrontation.' Stella's eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue.

'And I was just thinking, if perhaps we could come to an agreement.'

That actually peaked her interest. 'What kind of agreement?' She asked warily.

Stolas looked thrilled she hadn't thrown him out yet. 'Well, I was thinking we could put our differences aside, put the whole incident between us behind us. FOr Octavias sake.' He quickly cut in. 'Our constant arguing has taken quite the toll on her.'

Stella clenched her hands, he claws digging into her palm. 'For octavias sake...?' she asked incredulously.

Rage swelled in her chest 'How fucking dare you!' She told him through a scowl.

She pointed an angry finger at him. 'You, YOU! Cheat on me! Betray our marriage. Betray our family. And you want me to act like nothing happened. "For Octavia's sake"?'

She stood up, she couldn't even look at him. 'You disgust me. Tell me, would you give up your little fucking Imp? If it would make everything like it was, would you give him up?'

Stolas didn't answer, instead opting to look off to the side. Stella just sighed, shaking her head.

'Your a selfish, pathetic coward. Hiding behind your own daughter, what a disgrace.'

Before she could tell him to get out, there was a knock at the door. 'Who is it?' She shouted.

The door opened slowly, revealing one of the palace Imps. 'What do you want?' She asked harshly.

'T-theres a Lord (Y/N) here to see you. They say it's a business matter.'

Stella instantly perked up, holding back a smile as she rose to her feet. 'Thank you. I shall greet them personally.'

Getting up she walked past Stolas, not even bothering to give him a second glance.

She made her way to the entrance, and much to her annoyance, Stolas had seemingly decided to follow her, for some reason.

She quickly made it to the entrance, you were waiting there, anxiously adjusting your attire.

Hearing her approach you turned, your face lit up when your eyes layed apon her, Only for it to instantly dull upon seeing Stolas.

Still wearing a smile, you reached forward and took her hand before planted a gentle kiss upon it.

'Lady Stella. Its a pleasure to see you after so long. You still look as enchanting as when we were children.' You tell her, sending butterfly's through her stomach.

The moment was sullied when Stolas but in, 'Children?' The butterflies in her stomich instantly falling dead. 'Do you know each other?' He asked.

Before Stella could speak, you cut in 'Me and Stella were childhood friends.' You told him extending your hand. 'Its been some time since we've met in person.'

Stolas took your hand, giving it a firm shake. 'Is that so? Stella never mentioned you.'

'Well until recently' you rolled your head, your smile just holding back a scowl. 'I was beneath notice. I've only achieving my status relatively recently.'

'I was from a lower house, you see, a vassel of her family. And through that, me and Stella became friends.' You gave her a warm look, staring for several moments.

Stolas went to ask another question but Stella cut him off. 'You had business to discuss, did you not (Y/N)?' She asked.

You snapped to her, delighted to not have to talk to Stolas any further.

'Yes, i do' you said happily 'I believe a mutually beneficial arrangement could be made, between our houses.

'Excellent' she proclaims happily. 'It been so long since we've had any real business. And perhaps we could use the chance to catch up. It has been far too long.'

You looked at her fondly, before Stella turned, signalling for you to follow.

You did, turning to Stolas as you left 'It was a pleasure to meet you, your highness.' You told him, the slightest hint of disdain in your voice.

The two of you made your way to her study, you opening the door for her, giving a slight bow as she entered.

She giggled at your antics, before you followed her in, shutting the door behind you.

As soon as the door shut Stella instantly spun around and pinned you to the door, locking you in a heavy kiss.

'You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that.' Stella told you, after breaking the kiss.

You just chuckled before raising an eyebrow, 'oh, i think I do.' You told her playfully.

Stella just giggled, giving you a peck on the cheek. Pulling away she got up and went over to her desk.

You followed close behind, wrapping her in a hug. 'Now, now (Y/N), we have business to attend to.' She told you, patting your arm.

You just chuckled, 'Stella, I didn't really come here for business. I came to spend time with you.'

Stella was a little taken aback, mostly for not seeing it, as on reflection it was quite obvious.

Kissing her neck you slid your hands onto her shoulders, gently rubbing the muscles around her muscle.

Stella moaned at your touch, this only emboldened you, as your hands rubbed deeper and rougher.

Digging your fingers into her shoulder muscles. Stella released a flurry of moans, gripping her desk as you worked over her shoulder blades.

You moved down her spine, slowly undoing her dress as you went.

Reaching the bottom she turned to you, moving her shoulders, her dress fell, leaving her in all her natural glory.

You took her then and there, the two of you wrapped in passion, you held nothing back, releasing years of passion.

When stella became more vocal, you tried to get her quiet down, in fear ztolas might catch you.

As you got rougher, she just cried out 'I want him to hear!'

You went on for a while, after you finished, you held Stella close, the Owl demon curled up on your lap.

You preened your lover, running your hands all across her body before gently plucking any feather you didn't deem worthy to stay on your perfect mate. Afterwards the two of you got dressed.

You meticulously inspecting Stella, head to toe, ensuring she was perfectly groomed from head to toe.

The two of you leaft her study, ensuring no evidence of your little escapade was left behind.

The small collection of Stella's feathers, were delicately placed in your coat pocket.

You followed her into the garden, strolling through the large hedges that sat behind the Goetia palace.

Confident you where alone, you held Stella close, sharing a public display of affection.

You made it deep into the hedges, finding yourself beneath a large tree. It was a beautiful reminder that there was still life in hell.

You took her hand, you lead her beneath the trees majesty.

You pushed your body against hers, pinning her to the tree as you locked your lips with her's.

As you deepened the kiss, The distinct sound of snaping twigs drew your attention.

Snapping your head to face the noise, you found its source.

An Imp had fallen through the hedge, leaving a large hole in his stead.

You locked eyes with the Imp and sighed, 'well, this won't end well' you thought.

The Imp seem to think the same thing, before you both exclaimed 'Well, Fuck!'

Thanks for the request. I really love writing for both Stolas and Stella, as I feel there just isn't enough story centred around them as individuals. It always about there family or Stolas and Blitzø. But I really enjoyed the request. I hope you enjoyed.

[a-wayne-at-heart-too]

Ask: The 27th of April, Part 2

[Warehouse by Gotham Harbor, Gotham City, 1745 H]

Red Hood: *taps his foot impatiently while he checks his watch for the nth time* Come on, come on, come on. Make the drop, you guys. 

Red Hood: *sighs in frustration as he disassembles and reassembles his pistol in 15 seconds flat for the nth time* Let’s get it over with. 

Red Hood: *peeks from behind a stack of crates for the nth time* I don’t have all day. I promised Alfred I’d make it to dinner on time --

Red Hood: *stares at his ringing phone with narrowed eyes*

Red Hood: *picks it up* Roman.

Black Mask [on the phone]: *chuckling* Jason, my dear boy! How’ve you been? You look healthy. Very much alive, even.

Red Hood: *spots the tiny, hidden camera attached to a steel beam above him (How in the world did he miss that?) and cocks both his guns* Where are your men, ugly face?

Black Mask: Don’t you speak to me that way, you little rat! Before I make you a very D-E-A-... Hm. Forget I said that.

Red Hood: What?

Black Mask: The point is you’ve wasted your time waiting for nothing. So get lost!

Red Hood: Don’t lie to me! I’ve been tracking your every move for weeks and this warehouse reeks of your poisonous, criminal stench -- 

Black Mask: *lets out a drawn-out sigh* Listen, just go home, kid. The carnage you were looking forward to today? Newsflash: It ain’t happening!

Red Hood: You don’t tell me what to do, you sick son of a --

Black Mask: I tell you what: You go home tonight -- and I mean home -- I’ll forward you the coordinates of every illegal shipment to and from Janus Cosmetics within a hundred mile radius. You can blow it all up for all I care. Deal?

Red Hood: And if you don’t? If you lie to me?

Black Mask: *growling* You’ll find them anyway, you always do!

Red Hood: Why?

Black Mask: Hm?

Red Hood: Why?

Black Mask: *plays a vinyl record in the background, sounding more relaxed* Because there are better days to dance our tango, Jason... Da-rum, da-rum, da-rum da-ra... 

Red Hood: ... 

Red Hood: Did Batman put you up to this?

Black Mask: *crumpling a piece of paper near the phone speaker* You’re breaking up! *click*

>>> *** <<<

[Safe house, undisclosed location, 1815 H]

Red Hood: *fumbling as he enters the wrong passcode to the steel door for the third time in a row* Crap! Crap! Crap! I’m gonna be late!

Lock: Password incorrect. Initializing Code Red Protocol in three, two, o--

Red Hood: Override the stupid passcode! Activate voice recognition!

Lock: Activating voice recognition --

Red Hood: The Handsome Robin! The Handsome Robin!

Lock: Welcome, Jason Todd. Opening door n--

Red Hood: Hello, Safe House! *squeezes himself in the still-narrow space, then trips over his weapons, armor, and garments as he hurriedly strips himself of them en route to the bathroom*

Red Hood: *abruptly stops in his tracks* What the fuuhhh...

Red Hood: *watches as bubbly, green fluid oozes out of his bathtub* 

Red Hood: *picks up the rolled piece of parchment beside his Batshampoo, unties the ribbon around it, and spreads it open*

Note: “In case you needed more. [signed] The Demon’s Head”

>>> *** <<<

[Crime Alley, 1903 H]

Red Hood: *groans as he realizes that his motorcycle just ran out of fuel* Seriously? 

Harley Quinn: *rollerblading into view* Hey, Baby J! Need a lift? *holds up an extra pair of roller blades*

Red Hood: Yeahhhh no.

Harley Quinn: Come on! It’ll be fun! And I promise I won’t bite cha. *winks*

Red Hood: Oh, what the heck. *grabs the roller blades* So you really just carry around an extra pair of blades, huh? *proceeds to put his on*

Harley Quinn: Nope! But I’ve had this with me for a while now. *takes out a tiny package from the pocket of her shorts and hands it to Jason*

Red Hood: *examines it* Hm.

Harley Quinn: It ain’t poisoned or nothin’! Pinky swear! *holds out her pinky*

Red Hood: *frowning* What is it?

Harley Quinn: *claps her hands excitedly* Open it! Open it!

Red Hood: *gingerly unfolds the bubble gum wrapper and holds up its minuscule content* ... A tiny crowbar?

Harley Quinn: Yes! You can open envelopes with it! Stir coffee with it! Hit tiny Mistah J’s on the noggin’ with it --

Red Hood: *chuckles and puts the gift in his jacket pocket* Okay, okay, I get it. Thanks, I guess.

Harley Quinn: *holds her hand out to Jason* Come on! You’re gonna be late! Alfie ain’t gonna be happy!

Red Hood: ...

Red Hood: Did Batman put you up to this?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

And Jason’s confusion continues, @wingedskyes​ .

See: Part 1, Part 3

[cherry-gemz]

The City by The Bay: Part IV

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chivalry and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Catch up HERE

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Word Count: 4k

Rating: Mature, N*FW, 18+ only please, TW Motorcycle accident

A/N: Was thirsty AF and ended up smutting this fic up 😂. We take a turn that I was not expecting...

A/N2: Excerpts from an interview are in bold, taken from here: https://www.keanu-reeves.net/post/162864242206/abdominal-scar-keanu-reeves-first-big-spill-came

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye ​ @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester ​ @fookingbetch

************

It all happened so fast. The rain felt like pellets on your back and the wind sprayed the droplets onto your face, making the strand of your hair stick to your forehead. You had to close your eyes for just a second and that's when Keanu swerved out of the way as a black BMW ran the stop sign ahead. He maneuvered the bike as best as he could. With all his years of training, he was the best probability if ever you were to be in an accident. 

But as he jerked to the right, the slickness of the pavement made the grip of the tires useless and he lost control. 

"Keanu!" You yelled and held tight to his waist and buried your face in his jacket.

"Hold on!" He shouted back and slowed down as best he could. He released his grip and instead grabbed you into a tuck and roll. He grasped you in his possession and shielded you from the fall. 

You felt the impact to the ground instantaneously and prayed that the pain that seared through the impact would be temporary. You heard him grunt loudly as he took the majority of the fall for you. The scrap of metal reverberated in your eardrums and you grimaced at the thought of damaging his beloved motorcycle. The rain pounded harder onto your laying bodies on the street. You could hear cars whizz by and the splash from their tires against the curb. You were frightened, out of your element. But also reassured from his protection. He had given up the bike in efforts to make sure you were safe. You felt a sense of relief that he cared like that, but then also remorse as you were worried about his favorite motorcycle. 

He groaned as he held you tight, "Y/N? Are you okay?"

His voice shaken as you nod and sniff, the helmet heavy on your pounding head. He let out a sigh of relief. 

"What about you?" 

He nods, "Yeah...I'm alright." He groaned again and you could tell he was saving face. 

The two of you lay there for a few seconds and you hear people slowly approaching. 

"Omigosh, are you guys okay?" A stranger asks.

"That guy came out of nowhere!" Another pipes up. Keanu says you are and the tinnitus hits for a second and you're unable to hear what is going on. 

***

The garage door’s rollers rumbled as it closed and you both walked into the house, sheltering yourself from the downpour.

Keanu peels his leather jacket and places it in the foyer as well as his boots. You slip your shoes off and place your purse on a chair and slip off your jacket, laying it next to his. 

"This day is just out of this world," he says and shakes off the excess rain from his hair. He groaned as there's a stiffness to his shoulder blade. He massages it with his hand and tries to loosen the muscle unsuccessfully. 

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? I'd feel a lot better. They could take a look at your shoulder and check for any internal bleeding…"

He shakes his head no, "It's okay, Y/N. I've been in far worse accidents in my lifetime. I'm just glad you're okay...I don't know what I'd do had you gotten hurt."

You smile slightly at his endearment, but feel guilty still. 

"And the bike, it's not too much damage?"

"Nah, just a little buffering out here and there," he replies as he holds his shoulder with his opposing hand. 

“Let me start a fire and give you some extra clothes. By this time tonight you’ll have gone through my whole wardrobe,” he jokes as you snicker. 

He gazes at you momentarily and you shiver slightly, springing him back to reality. “Be back.”

You nod and peer down the hallway admiring some architecture photographs of the house. 

You’re reminded this isn’t his actual house, that he’s most likely renting it while on his project, but you’re still enamored. You're still in his presence. No one will believe your serendipitous encounter with the movie star. It all feels like a dream anyway. You rub your forearm and try to gain some heat, but your jeans are soaked and it’s difficult to move around.

“Keanu?” you call out down the hall.

“Yeah?” he shouts back.

“Sorry, I’m just freezing…” you cringe and you feel like you’re being a nuisance.

He appears around the corner, changed into black sweats. He's kept his white t-shirt on from earlier and even though he's in a casual form, it's intimate. 

"Here, I found some extra sweats," he says and hands you a pair of grey pants. "Do you need a sweater?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty chilled," you reply as you accept the pants. "I'm just gonna go change, that okay?"

"Sure, by all means. I'll be in the living room with that sweater," he says and you turn around to go change your clothes.

*

A short while later you walk down the hall in his oversized sweats, still wearing his black shirt from before as well and you bite your lip from beyond belief that you're spending the whole day with him. 

You hear the crackle of the fireplace as you enter the open spaced living room. He's sitting on the leather couch facing the fire with a glass of red wine in hand.

He turns his attention to you as you enter, "Hey." He gets up slowly as you can tell he's in a bit of pain and hands you a black ARCH hoodie and a glass of red wine. 

"Thank you," you flirt as you pull the hoodie over your senses and are enlightened with the hint of his cologne: woodsy, warm, and ephemeral. You could die right there and be in bliss.

"Not too early for wine, is it?" He asks genuinely. 

"No, definitely not," you smile and bring the glass to your lips and take a sip. 

"Good, I think we deserve it from what we've been through."

"Thanks for this...and the fire. It's all very inviting."

"Of course. I'd be beside myself if you caught a chill on my account."

You nod and he ushers you to the couch, placing his hand gently on the small of your back.

"My sweatshirt looks good on you," he says and you notice some blood on the back of his shoulder blade. 

"Oh no, Keanu…" you say and place the wine glass on the end table. 

He takes a sip and looks back to you, "Yeah?"

"There's...there's blood on your shirt. You hurt yourself from the fall."

"Really? I didn't feel anything," he peers over and tries to take a look. 

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"I think there is one in the kitchen…" he slowly gets up and you grab his forearm. 

"No, let me. You have given me enough hospitality to last a lifetime. It's the least I can do. Drink your wine and relax."

He grins and relents as you head to the kitchen. You rummage around and finally find a kit underneath the sink. 

"Alright, now are you going to be a good patient?" You say and cock your brow. 

"No promises," he laughs and shakes his index finger at you. 

You sit next to him on the leather couch, "Alright, let's see the damage."

He peels his shirt off from the collar as all men do, least they are aware of how sexy the act is. You try not to hitch a breath, but your eyes wander as the peep of his ab muscles are exposed and his shoulders are defined and hard. 

You see the cuts from his shoulder and open the kit for an antiseptic. 

"What's the verdict, doc?" He asks as he holds his crumpled shirt in his hand and drinks his wine with the other.

"You'll live," you kid as you grab a cotton ball and apply the antiseptic to it and lightly dab it on his cuts. 

He flinched slightly, but refrained from making any movements. 

"So tell me about your other accidents," you ask as you continue first aid.

"Hmm, well once as I was going through the canyon, I lost control and got this," he points to a thick scar rising vertically up his stomach.

You frown and continue to gently cleanse away the blood from his back. 

"That was in LA?"

"Yeah, I call it a demon ride. That’s when things are going badly. But there’s other times when you go fast, or too fast, out of exhilaration.” 

"Were you speeding? I heard that canyon has insane blind spots," you ask and add an ointment to his cuts.

"Heh, you could say so. The turn I hit was unexpected. I remember saying in my head, ‘I’m going to die.’"

"Shit, Keanu…"

He shakes his head,“I remember calling out for help. And someone answering out of the darkness, and then the flashing lights of an ambulance coming down. This was after a truck ran over my helmet. I took it off because I couldn’t breathe, and a truck came down. I got out of the way, and it ran over my helmet.”

"So why do you still ride?" You laugh. "That would have scared me for life."

"Well, it taught me something. Something not to do, y'know? Something that taught me how to react with what happened today? Today I leaned into the turn when the car came out and released the break. If I hadn't had that experience in the canyon, I wouldn't be the rider I am today."

"Well I'm glad you're okay...from that ride...from any ride you have trouble with."

"Thanks...I'm glad, too. While I probably have some wild rides left in me, I wouldn't ever want to place you in danger."

You both are still and quiet from his words. The fire continued to crackle and you looked through the kit for gauze and tape. 

You cough into your fist and are slightly embarrassed that he would say something so sweet as that to you. You hardly knew each other, but he had a sense of genuine care and kindness towards you. Your feelings for him grew, he obviously was very handsome and kind. But he had a sense of an old soul in him that you wanted to get to know further. You hoped in your heart that this wouldn't be the last time seeing him.

"I find your presence extremely comforting, if I can say so," he turns his head to you.

"Yeah?" 

You ask as you place the gauze over his injury and seal it with surgical tape. Your fingertips lightly graze the outer parts of the tape where it meets his skin and you savor the moment. "All done here."

"Thank you," he smiles and reaches for your hand. 

"I know we just met, but you're so easy to talk to Y/N. I know I have a persona that people see being a celebrity and all, but while that is a side of me, there are also other sides. And I'm not afraid to show them to you."

As he leaned in and turned his torso, it caught your breath. The first aid kit wobbled in your lap as you sat on your knees. 

"What I want to say is that, I like you...I think you're very beautiful and incredibly sexy…"

"Keanu…" you whisper as he continues closer to you. 

"Y/N...I'd like...I'd like to kiss you..." he turned his neck and looked into your eyes and then at your lips. He was so subtle in his movements, a gentleman. You nod, without having the ability to speak at the moment, and close your eyes as he places his lips onto yours. 

There is heat surging through your body; jolts of excitement and wonder encompass your surroundings. He cups your face with his large hand and you instantly melt. He tastes of wine and rain: two of your now favorite things. The unexpected feelings engulf your inner core and you want more. He invites your tongue and opens his mouth slightly, changing the sweet kiss with more intensity. Both of his hands cup your face now and your hand roams down his biceps to his torso. 

"This isn't like a normal thing for me," you say in a heavy breath as your lips separate from his.

"What isn't?"

"Kissing someone I just met…and definitely not this..." you gasp as he kisses the nape of your neck. 

You sit up slightly and the first aid kit tips over and drops to the floor. Unphased, you wrap your legs around him into a straddle on the couch. He's surprised by this move, but doesn't relent and lightly bites your bottom lip. His hands roam from your face down to your neck and you crane it back, giving him ample opportunity to relish the soft, sensitive spot. 

He does so and places his lips on your skin, making you moan his name. 

"I don't normally do this either...but I can't help myself with you," he says. 

His other hand continues down your body and through the thickness of his hoodie, he slinks his way under your clothes and touches your breasts. 

"Uhnnh…" you moan again and he watches your enjoyment from his touch. You quickly peel off his sweater and his shirt, allowing your breasts to be fully exposed to him. Your now slightly dried hair hangs over your shoulder and he brushes it aside, giving it a kiss. You close your eyes and relish the fact that he has his lips on you. Your senses are in overload and you’ve never wanted anyone more. In the moment there is lust and the excitement of pleasure you’re wanting to experience, so you decide you want to move further. 

He trails his kisses and peppers them over your collarbone to your chest, and you hold him right in embrace. You hand lightly grazes the recent bandage and you give it a light kiss. 

"Y/N," he rasps. "Do...do you want me?" He bites your lip and you roll your eyes back for a moment. 

He brings his face back to yours and you reply, "More than you know."

A huge grin escapes his lips and ignites a growl deep within him. 

"Thank God, I want you so badly," he rasps as he holds you tight against his body. 

"Where do you…?" 

He continues to kiss your neck and his hand drifts down to your center. The baggy sweatpants give enough slack as he dives his hand and inserts his fingers. You mew and hold onto him as he tenderly tours your folds. 

"K-Keanu…" 

"You feel so soft…" his ministrations ramp up and he enjoys watching you unfold. His deep, brown eyes locked into yours and you crane your neck back as he hits all the spots and encircles his thumb perfectly over your little nub. 

"Uhhnnn…" 

Your mind starts to spin as you let go any restraint and close your eyes as he pumps his fingers in and out. Things become a blur and a mix of sensation and pleasure intensifies; you grind against his lap and can feel his excitement grow and it only turns you on more.

“I-I’m…” you stutter as you’re close to climax and then he slowly releases his fingers. “Why are you stopping…?”

"Can I taste you?" 

Never in a million years you thought you'd ever hear him say those words. It startles you and you freeze, brushing your hair away from your face to gain composure. He plants more kisses on your chest and cups a breast in his hand. 

"Let me taste you, Y/N. I want to taste you…" he whispers and begs. The heat between you two is almost unbearable. He's ignited something within your core and you want him, you need to give into your desires or you might explode. Wild, breathless kisses are exchanged and provide ample savour.

“Yes, please,” you ask and you unhook your legs as he gently lays you back on the couch. He kisses your taught stomach and runs his large hands over your hips until he finds what he is looking for. He hooks your thigh over his good shoulder and buries his face between your legs. You buck your hips from the intense sensation of his tongue and scream out his name as the rain and thunder roll outside. 

*

After what feels like an outer body experience, you are able to finally breathe and lay on the couch in disbelief. 

He smiles with a cocky grin and gets up to clean his face. You rub your eyes and stretch your toes. It had been awhile, well maybe never to have experienced that sense of euphoria. He was attentive in all the right places and relished at the fact that he loved the taste of you. You discreetly blush and reach for the throw blanket to cover up. 

As you sit up, he returns with the bottle of wine and tops your glass off. 

“Thank you,” you say and make eye contact. “And thank you…”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly on the lips. 

“I should be thanking you, I very much enjoyed it, too.”

“I can thank you in other ways, you know,” you purr and run your fingers through your hair. 

He waggled his eyebrows, “Is that so? I’d like to see in which ways…”

You take a sip of your wine and return it to the end table. As you stand, you let the throw blanket drop and expose your body to him once again. You’re braver now. What you experienced was an intimate moment together and your walls were down. You felt comfortable, sexy, and beautiful. You grab his hand to pull you closer and passionately seal your lips on his. 

He responds and holds your neck with his hand, while the other hand grabs one of your globes. His kiss is fervent and heeding; his lips are insatiable and the tongue explores your mouth. You open your eyes and as does he, with one swift motion you jump into his arms and straddle his waist. He grasps you by your inner thighs and walks down the hall to his bedroom. 

*

He carries you into his room and his kisses become sloppy and wet, it’s a hunger that you can tell burns within him. 

As he lays you on the bed, he trails his lips to your ear lobes and sucks on it and your eyelids flutter. 

“Keanu…” you breathe heavily as you display your sex on his bed. 

He quickly slips his pants and boxers off and you reach for his hard member and stroke it within your fingertips. He’s soft to touch and large in a way that you anticipate pleasure that will come. He grunts in approval and bites your neck softly. 

“Y/N...I want all of you...you’re so beautiful. What do you want, baby?”

You practically orgasm at the sound of him calling you baby and you moan in approval as he delves two digits into your folds. 

“I want you, too, Ke…”

He smiles, “Ke...I like that. I like you...a lot. I want you to scream my name just like that.”

You nod as he pumps harder and tantalizes your clit, sending waves of intensity all over your body. 

“Oh, yes! Ke!”

“Do we need protection, baby?” He asks earnestly and you shake your head no. 

“IUD,” you state in a breath and he nods in approval. 

He releases his fingers and you whimper softly as he slowly rubs his cock along your wet lips. 

“Uhhh, yes…” you moan and he watches the way your silky entrance throbs for him. He rubs his head in and out and you cannot take the heat that is building up inside you. 

“Baby…” you rasp and writhe as he teases you in the most sexy way. He enjoys unraveling you, the thought that he can make you unfold in his hands is his own viewing pleasure. 

He cascades his hand to your hip and then hooks your leg over his shoulder, giving him full access to his prize. He continues to rub his thumb over your clit and then with a few thrusts, inserts himself in you. Your eyes widen as your walls stretch for him; it takes a few seconds to completely allow him to go deep, but he’s given plenty of foreplay and pleasure that you invite all of him to enter you. You arch your back in agreement with his thrusts and you both moan in pleasure. 

“Ke…” his name rolls off your tongue as he picks up his pace and thrusts harder. He leans over you, still holding your leg on his shoulder and kisses your calf tenderly. It’s a beautiful moment and you love how he caresses your leg, all in while thrusting in and out in a rhythmic game. He holds your ankle and continues his kisses until you pull him to you and plant your lips on his. 

“C’mere,” you coo and rake your fingers through his hair. Besides the few grunts you both make while becoming one, the rain hits the window pane and is seared in your memory. 

“I love your breasts,” he says as he watches them playfully bounce with his set pace of thrusts. 

You cock your brow and cup them in your hand, “Do you?” you ask devilishly and massage them as his mouth widens in a state of complete adoration. 

“That’s not fair, let me…” he responds and replaces your hands with his mouth. His thrusts become faster and harder, each time stretches your walls and the euphoria kicks in. 

"Keanu…!" 

You shout and let go all inhibitions as your toes curl in utter bliss. Your walls tighten further and your body shakes as he rides you through, a tidal wave of pleasure surges your body. 

 He holds the small of your back as you arch yourself on the bed and murmurs praises into your shoulder as he comes and releases himself. He crashes his lips onto yours and stays in you as you both recover. He brushes your hair away from your face and looks deep into your eyes and smiles. 

"That was amazing," he grins and slowly pulls out. He collapses next to you and breathes in heavily. "Are...was everything alright?"

You giggle at his concern, "It was far better than alright. It was perfect."

He rolls to his side and props his head with his bicep. You cuddle yourself next to him and wrap his grey duvet around your body. 

"You're pretty perfect," he replies. 

You blush and he trails his finger up and down the side of your arm.

"I was not expecting my day to be so damn fantastic," he laughs. "Who knew running into you would lead to this?"

"Me, too. I can't believe this all happened."

"But you're glad?"

"Of course," you reply and give him a kiss. He holds you close and doesn't let go. You both listen to the sound of the rain for a moment and relish being in each other's arms. You're enjoying how he is so intimate and appreciates a cuddle afterwards. 

He kisses your forehead, "I'm going to go get the wine. Do you want anything?"

"Hmmm...I'm kind of hungry."

"What? You are? We just ate!" He laughs. 

"Well I mean, you made me work up a sweat!"

"Okay, okay," he says and holds up hands. "Let me see what I can muster up. I think there is some imported cheese in the fridge. Maybe some crackers with the wine?"

"That sounds divine," you reply. "But let me."

"What? No, you're my guest."

"I insist, you have an injury," you say and place your hand on his chest, rubbing it in a circular motion. You point your finger to his face, "Stay right here. I have all day and intend to spend it in this bed, mister."

"Whatever the lady desires," he smiles and watches you saunter out of the bed. "Take that shirt if you want," he points to a battered shirt on the chair.

"Don't want me walking naked around your house?"

"There are a lot of windows," he laughs. You not and reach for the shirt.

"Be right back."

"Sounds good."

You give him a kiss and walk out of the room, knowing quite well his eyes are on you as you leave with just his shirt on. You realize your underwear is still in the living room and head over there before the kitchen. As you slip them on, you grab your glass of wine and sip it in a felicitous manner. 

You daintily skip over to the kitchen as you recall the past hour and you are cheeky and find yourself blushing. As you open the fridge, you spot the cheese and grab the bag and open it up to sneak a little piece. You hear the front door open and the ring that alerts when it does. You quizzically think to yourself why that occurred and you closed the fridge door to see a woman standing in front of you holding a manila folder. 

Your mouth stuffed with cheese you almost choke. She looks you up and down as you are wearing panties and Keanu’s shirt. 

“Um, who are you?” She demands and places her free hand on her hip. 

​

[wafflewarriors]

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 7—Bloody Mary

It had been pretty quiet lately. No trouble with angels, monsters, hunters, or anything in between. Just the shudder of tires against the road.

Despite this, your insomnia had grown worse, with nightmares to impede your sleep. You bought a coffee that morning, and by the time you had finished it, you weren't sure if your hands were still shaking in fear, or if that was just the caffeine in your system. 

You could almost feel the journal, burning a hole in your bag. It did provide some information, though. John Winchester’s phone number was the book, and with John’s number, his voicemail left Dean’s number. So that left you something in last-case emergencies.

It felt so wrong to have it. You felt manipulative, cheating, and guilty. Season One Sam and Dean without their Dad’s journal just didn’t happen.

Your guilt was dragging you down. You were plagued by a recurring dream of the Winchesters chasing you down a long corridor... or forest trail... or sidewalk. Anywhere, really. They always caught you. You never escaped. There was always a dead end, and they would always stab you, right in the gut. Sometimes with a knife, sometimes with an angel blade, or other times—the worst times—they did it with a dull stake. You would struggle, and they would say, 'You are never going home.'

It was really screwing with your judgement, to say the least.

The idea of this next case wasn't helping your paranoia. The episode always had your skin crawling. It was like asking for something bad to happen. Why would you purposely do something so easily preventable? And the fact that the curse was transferable? It made you shudder. You would prefer your eyes unmelted, thanks.

You were also high risk. You certainly felt responsible for the deaths of the last few cases, and Bloody Mary wasn’t the type to discriminate.

You knew how to defeat her, though: get her to look into a damn mirror. Which sounded easy, but it meant you were going to have to find her first.

Bloody—well, you know.

///

It was noon when you pulled into a gas station just on the outskirts of Toledo, Ohio.

Warm lighting, colorful signs decorating the walls, some helium birthday balloons in the corner. It was a small, cozy station.

You minded yourself. The cashier offered a smile your way as you entered. She was your age, with long, brown hair and a smaller face. The typical, mousy college girl.

The irony of this case did not escape you as you cut to the gas station bathroom. Your period was at its peak, and you felt like absolute crap. Seriously. You just wanted to curl up in the backseat, maybe shoplift some candy bars.

You refused to shoplift, though. That was a low you hoped you'd never hit. You restocked on peanut butter, jerky, and a handful of candy bars you definitely didn’t need but couldn’t resist.

Approaching the cashier, you put the items on the counter and fished out your wallet. Forty dollars. You had already filled your tank up outside. Forty dollars wouldn’t cover it all. You were going to need to cut down on the candy.

Your throat tightened as you made a decision. “Uh,” you said, “actually, I’ll just take the peanut butter. Yeah, um, just that and… and pump three.”

She hesitated, eyeing your groceries. “Broke?”

You looked up. “What?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been there,” she said, pointing at the highly unnecessary snacks that made your mouth water. “I can cover it. Period, right?”

“How—what—”

“Unless it's Valentine's Day, that many candy bars is enough to tell anybody what time of the month it is,” she said. “It’s cool. The twenty bucks won’t kill me.”

“But you—”

“I can, really. No trouble. Seriously, just take it.”

You weren’t a charity case, damn it.

But before you could say anything, she put the items through the scanner. “It’s none of my business, but you look like a breeze could push you over. And… I mean, you’re just so pale. Girl, do you have anyone you can stick around with? Based on experience, shark week ain’t a time to be alone and broke.”

You shifted.

That apparently told her enough. “Nobody? At all?”

“Not really.”

She checked the clock. “Hmm. Well, hey, I get done in half an hour if you need a friend. I could buy you lunch?”

You really looked that horrible then. You sighed. "As much as I'd love that, I have a lot to do today."

"Pity. I wasn't asking." Her eyes flashed black.

Your stomach sank. Subconsciously, you turned to look toward your car, the only scrap of safety you’d managed to keep in this unforgiving world. If you could just get to the angel blade.

“Looking for this?” She lifted her employee shirt to expose her hip, which held the blade. “You were in that bathroom long enough to have a real good search through your backpack. Really should carry that thing with you, you know?” She smirked. “Someone could really take advantage of you.”

One trip to the bathroom, and you were already getting trouble. You let your guard down too fast; one quiet week and you had thought you had the liberty to feel safe. Yeah, right.

“How’d you find me?” You asked, withdrawn. A bead of sweat trickled down your neck.

“Are you kidding? You leave an easier trail than the Winchesters. You're a beacon. We’ve been tracking you for weeks. Ever since you tried to interfere with poor Sammy’s Jessica,” she taunted and played with the blade. “Halos, huh? Quite the tangle you have yourself in.” Her eyes were still black to intimidate you.

And it was working. “They can kill you.”

“Don’t you think they would have if they wanted to?” She laughed. “I thought you knew the whole timeline? Knew the whole plan? Angels and demons want this apocalypse, and they want it soon. We want the same thing.”

The tightness in your chest was making it hard to breathe. “How do you… how do you even know about them? No one’s supposed to know until…”

“Wow, you really are out of the loop. You think you’re the only one special enough to get the feathery visit? We all have one on our shoulder now. Don’t you get it? Something went wrong in the first run, so they’re changing it up. Ripping up the script. The apocalypse is on, baby!”

Your vision swept in and out. Your knees were weak. You had to warn the Winchesters.

You daringly looked toward the angel blade in her hand. A grab away. Yet, she’d have you pinned in a second. You were defenseless.

“Now,” she said, smiling as she caught where your gaze was. “How about we catch ourselves a little Mary?” Then, she was pushing you toward the bathrooms with the angel blade pinching your back.

“This isn’t how I was going to—” your voice hitched as you choked on your breath. Your heart was in your throat. “No no no I’m not going to say—”

“Oh, yes you are,” she said as she shoved you into the gas station bathrooms. She pinned you up against the sink, her hand twisted up into your hair and shoved you toward the mirror. “Say it.”

You sealed your eyes and mouth shut, twisting your head away in protest.

“Fine. I’ll say it for you. Bloody Mary…”

You tensed, bracing your hands against the wall to push, but she only pressed harder until she had your nose right against the glass. 

“Bloody Mary…”

You twisted your head, trying to duck away. Then, you saw the gleam in her pocket. The angel blade. You reached—

“Bloody Mary.”

You swung the blade around, smashing the hilt into her face. She felt forward, shrieking. You stabbed her in the back, her face flickered orange, and she fell to the floor like lead.

Bloody Mary watched.

You shot out of the bathroom with a hand shielding your eyes, like it would do much to prevent a bloodthirsty ghost from getting to them.

When you got out of the station, you crouched on the concrete, breathing through the panic attack that had your lungs in a unyielding knot. “Ohmygod—” you heaved into your elbow, ”Ohmygod— ohmygod— ohmygod.” Your tears smeared against your shaking arms. You were so scared that it hurt to breathe.

Mary was coming to get you, and you weren't ready.

With a shaky, hiccupy breath, you regained a little composure. With your hands still over your eyes, curled up on the pavement, you felt weak. You sobbed, terrified Mary would be standing in front of you.

“I need a plan,” you said to yourself. “I need…” 

You needed the Winchesters. But why would they ever help you?

Unless…

Helium balloons.

 ///

The plan was so stupid that it might just work.

Except, it involved high-risk-Mary areas. First, you’d have to get in the store, second, you’d need to get into your car for your bag, and lastly, you’d need to get over to the payphone just outside the gas station. All of which had glass. 

Well, wouldn’t this be freaking awesome.

You stood, your shirt over your face so that you could see nothing but vague shadows in front of you. You felt your way toward the far corner of the gas station. You tripped twice. The first time, you smacked into a rack of potato chips, which fell to the floor noisily, and the second time, you were not so lucky. The hotdog roller burned the palm of your right hand before you snatched your hand back. You cursed, cradling it to your chest.

Sobbing in pain, you finally reached the rack of balloons. You grabbed at one with a free pinky finger of your left hand. It snagged when you pulled. It was tied. Tight. You couldn't undo the knot with your burned hand, neither the one holding the shirt over your eyes. You needed to get your good hand free, and you needed something to put over your face.

Your breath was warm and stuffy against your shirt material, but you managed to fumble with it. Maybe you could use your bad arm to hold it up. Carefully, you switched out your left hand and put your right arm tight along your eyes, hissing when your tender skin brushed along your rough shirt collar. You knew the arm was going to get tired quick, so you'd just have to work quicker.

You pried the balloon of the rack with your fingernails, weaving it around your hand.

Grabbing your angel blade from your pocket, you tapped it around until you found the door handle. You grabbed it and swung it open with your knee. Blindly, you walked out of the station and toward your car, shattering the windows with the hilt of the angel blade. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The car was locked and you weren't going to fumble with the keys with your face that close to glass. No way. Not with one hand, either. This was just faster.

The contents from your bag were spilt around the seat. You grabbed your bag of salt, and John's Journal, clutching it against your chest. Now for the payphone.

You were going to need to peek.

Clutching the bag of salt to your chest in case Mary decided to make for a jumpscare, you inched your shirt down to your nose. With wide, fearful eyes, you scanned the lot.

Mary’s silhouette reflected in your car’s hood.

You scrambled back, spraying salt in her general direction, and she dispersed. You quickly placed your shirt back over your eyes, fighting the panic that was beating on your chest. That was too close.

You fumbled your way over to the payphone, smashing the glass in for good measure. You peeked at John's Journal, traced your eyes over the number, and fumbled to plug them into the payphone. Thankfully, that demon gave you some change to pay with.

It thrummed for a minute, until the voicemail rolled through. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.”

“866-907-3235” you murmured to yourself repeatedly as you dialed the new number into the machine. It rang, and you murmured a prayer.

“Hello?”

You tongue caught in your throat before you remembered the helium. Jesus, you almost gave yourself away. You scrambled to work the tie off the balloon. You put your lips to the balloon and inhaled deeply.

“Hello? If this is a prank call…”

“It’s not,” you said, recoiling at your squeaky chipmunk voice. You probably inhaled too much. “It’s not. I need help.”

“And who is this? How’d you get this number?”

“I’m… an acquaintance of John Winchester. He gave me your number,” you said, taking another breath of helium. As stupid as this was, it could throw them off from knowing it was you. “Look, Bloody Mary is after me. I need your help.”

“Where are you? We can—”

“No, not necessary. I just need you to call Bloody Mary away. I can’t do it myself. I don’t have any mirrors.”

“What? What do you—”

“Call Bloody, you know who, and shove a mirror in her face. She’s vulnerable to her own power. She’ll kill herself. Permanently.”

“And how do I know you aren’t lying?”

“I’m not, I—” Your eyes stung. “Oh my god she’s here.” She must have been in the phone’s reflection.

The phone crinkled as the Winchesters probably moved to do as you said. The phone must have been on speaker now. “You still there?!” Dean demanded.

“Yes! Yes, I’m still—” you sobbed as your head split with pain. “I’m still here. Hurry, oh my god, please hurry.” Your voice was getting normal. You struggled to reach out for the helium again, but your eyes pricked with blood. You shouted in pain.

“We’re trying, we’re… Sammy, the mirror!” More movement came through the speaker, and suddenly there was instant relief.

The phone was silent for a second, and then Dean said: “She’s gone.”

You had finally done something right. No casualties.

“One question, though,” Dean said.

“What is it?” you asked warily.

“How’d you know we were in town?”

You froze. Frick… “Uh, I was going to call Jo—”

“Bull. You knew we were working this case. And John never answers his phone, so he didn’t tell you. Who are you?”

“No one important.” A new kind of fear crept along your spine.

“Wait a minute. Are you the stupid girl with the bag? The one that stole our dad’s journal? And yeah, don’t think we didn’t miss that. Where the hell are—?”

“I gotta go.” You slammed the phone on the stand. Your knees were jelly, and you had to brace yourself against the payphone to stand upright. You stood on the pavement for three seconds before your legs buckled like a lawn chair.

You had to get out of dodge, and this was not helping.

Hands grabbed you, and you fought them, figuring they were the Winchesters. But when you turned around, you were met with an unfamiliar face. "Who are you?" you asked, backing away.

She grabbed your burnt wrist, and blinked to show black eyes. "I'm the next demon to watch you. And just so you know, if you kill me, there'll just be another to replace me. Azazel has eyes everywhere, sweetheart." Her nails dug into your tender skin.

You sobbed, making a move to stab her, but she caught your other arm and twisted it until the blade fell on the concrete. "Nuh uh uh. Naughty girl."

You were weak. Too weak to fight against her. The more to fought, the deeper her fingers went into your burnt flesh. "Stop, please stop." You were defenseless.

An engine in the distance made hope light up in your chest. The Winchesters. They had traced your call.

"You called them? Bold move, considering their current relationship with you." She kicked at your knee, which dipped. You were practically a ragdoll. 

She pulled your arms up, forcing you to stand. "Walk," she growled.

You could see the Impala in the distance. This was your shot. Right here. You panted, “Exorcizamus te... omnis... immundus… spiritus…omnis satanica potestas..."

The demon shrieked, "Don't you dare!" She wrenched you back, trying to wear you out. Her eyes flashed black.

You could see the Impala driving up the road. You kept going. "Omnis satanica potestas... omnis incursio infernalis adversarii... ah, omnis, omnis legio... o-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica-ha…"

The demon struck you over the head, shrieking, "Stop!" But she had let your hand free.

You grabbed the angel blade, and plunged it into her chest. She flashed orange, screaming. The air reeked of sulfur.

The Impala pulled into the station, and with a new wave of adrenaline, you shoved yourself over to your car, climbing in through the broken window. You needed to go-go-go-go-go—

"Hey!" Dean Winchester bellowed, charging toward you and your vehicle.

It burst with life, and you swerved out of the lot, gunning it.

The Winchesters, too late to catch you on foot, hastened their way back to their car. This was almost the closest they'd gotten to catching you, if you didn't count the airport.

And… damn it. You'd left the journal by the payphone. They must have seen it, too, because the Dean halted, backpedaling to go and grab the arguably most precious thing they owned. The last thing you saw was Sam shouting at his brother before you were clear of the area.

It would probably be safest that you lay low for a while. You’d have to ditch the car, too. Just until St.Louis. And jeez, that was going to be an even bigger mess.

Anyway, first, you had to get your burnt hand checked. You could worry about shapeshifters next week.

Hey, and maybe the whole ‘600 years bad luck’ wasn’t there any longer. Maybe, now the Winchesters had an actual shot at this.

///         

Tags: @rosaren2498 , @pillowjj​ , @busy-bee-angel-misska​ , @elle-r​ , @dagnylokisdottir​ , @omg-we-really-doo​ , @millieccino​

[atc74]

Making Circles - Month Six

Square(s) Filled: Smiting for @heavenandhellbingo

Warnings: Case angst, being fake married to Dean, arguing, smiting, case level violence, emotional pain

Summary:  Dean and Y/N have to pretend to be married for a case. But this isn’t any ordinary case. Married couples have gone missing from Albert Lea, Minnesota, every six months for the last few years but there is almost zero evidence. People don’t just disappear like that do they? With Bobby and Sam’s help, plus an ally in their new town, they have just under six months to figure it out. Chances are they’ll survive the case, but will their friendship survive their fake marriage?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1522

Written for: @heavenandhellbingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, who says the nicest things and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and also keeps me on a straight line. I heart you! And @alleiradayne for letting me bounce ideas off her, like all the time.

A/N: This will be six chapter series, one for each month of the case, plus a bonus epilogue. Loosely based/inspired by the song Making Circles by Christian Kane and I just felt this needed to be written. There will be lyrics dispersed throughout the entire story. I hope you love this as much as I do.

The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Making Circles master list

Month Six

Y/N sat in the office pouring over old files, crime scene photos and newspaper clippings, hoping something would jump out at her. They had less than a month to wrap this up before two more people went ‘missing’ into a puff of pink dust. With how things were going with her and Dean, and the fact that Cas didn’t think the Rit Zien knew the difference between emotional and physical pain, it very well could be them next.

It was this dance they were stuck in and they were coming up one more graceful, or at least well practiced, spin. The words were the same each time the song played. She and Dean moving around each other, the same words, the same actions. They were trying to keep up the charade, go through the motions, say the words, but it all worked out the same in the end, didn’t it? After they wrapped the case, where would they be? Back to hunting, best friends and partners. Five months can make you see a person in a whole new light and that was where she found herself now.

Clearing her mind, she returned to the clippings when something caught her eye. She checked another clipping. She double and triple checked the information before she called Dean.

“Hi, Honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“You need to come home right now. I think I found something. Something huge.”

“Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

The garage was a fifteen minute drive and Dean made it home in less than ten. “Y/N! Honey! Where are you?” She heard his boots echo through the house, hitting the hardwoods as he ran through the first floor.

“Down here!” Y/N called from the bottom of the stairs.

His footfalls pounded heavy down the wooden staircase as he raced to her. “Tell me you have good news.”

“Look at these clippings,” she requested, handing him a magnifying glass. “Tell me what you see.”

Dean examined each of the eight articles and pictures she had laid out over the desk. He went back and forth, inspecting them over and over. “Son of a bitch.”

“You see it too? I’m not crazy. Tell me I’m not crazy,” she pleaded with him.

“You’re not crazy,” Dean confirmed. “You’re a brilliant, badass hunter, Honey. You did it!” He pulled her in and kissed her. The kiss wasn’t rushed like the first one they shared. As soon as her mind recovered from the shock, she threw her arms around him, eagerly kissing him back. This kiss held more passion and promise than the last.

“Dean…” Y/N breathed, pulling back from his embrace. “I know the last five months have been a roller coaster, but it’s been good. It can’t get much better, but it sure can get worse. Either way we turn, it’s gonna hurt.”

“Y/N, we go round and round trying to work it out, and all we get is hell bent and bound. We’re never far from right where we are. You think that we would get enough, I know there’s a possibility that we’re going to fuck it up. But we’re holding on, and we’re sinking down. We go, round and round, making circles.” Dean read her mind, finishing the thought for her.

“Dean, we circle each other, like partners in a dance or fighters in the ring, it depends on the day. Let’s just focus and finish this thing, then maybe...just maybe we can figure out what this is, or what we even want it to be,” she suggested, holding out hope that they actually got the chance to have that talk. “I’m going to grab us a drink, why don’t you call Cas?”

“Yeah, okay. You’re right, we can wait,” Dean conceded and bowed his head. “Cas, we need you, buddy. We got something here and we need your help. So come on down, you’re the next contestant on Name that Douchebag Angel,” Dean opened his eyes, hoping Cas would have appeared in the room with them.

“Hello, Y/N,” Cas rasped from the doorway to the kitchen, startling her.

“Cas! Don’t do that!” Y/N shrieked.

“I’m sorry. Did you not just pray for me?” Castiel tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“No, Dean did. He’s downstairs,” she led the way, waiting for Cas to follow her.

“No, I am pretty sure I heard you loud and clear, Y/N,” Cas repeated.

“No, Castiel. I did not pray for you, despite what you think you heard. Now, forget about it and let’s finish this shit now!” Y/N growled at him as they entered the office.

Dean had not seen this fire in her since the demon hunt. He was relieved he was not the cause of her anger this time. “Whoa, did you piss in her Cherrios?”

“I don’t understand that reference, Dean,” Cas declared and Dean broke out in laughter. “Dean, I hardly think now is the tim-.”

“Focus, Dean!” Y/N chided him, dragging Castiel to the desk to look over the news articles she had been inspecting. “Cas, we think this might be the angel, the Rit Zien. They are in all the photos from the newspaper. These couples didn’t live in the same neighborhood, so it cannot be a coincidence that this person knew all the couples. We think this is it.”

“We won’t know for sure until they show up. I cannot recognize their grace from a grainy photograph,” he explained. “I will need to see the vessel in person to know if this is the Rit Zien.”

“Well, they are drawn to physical or emotional pain, right?” Dean inquired. “I think we’ve got enough of that right here. They’ll come.”

Days and days passed without incident. To say things were tense around the house would would be putting it lightly. Dean and Y/N worked, came home, ate and went to bed. On the fourth night, she couldn’t take it anymore. She broke.

“What do you want from me, Dean? I need to know where I stand with you,” she cried. “I can’t go back to our normal lives knowing how this feels and how badly I want it to be real.”

“This is the closest we’ll ever get to normal. I want to believe that in our lives, our real lives, that a relationship with you is possible. But, what if we can’t? Aren’t you sick and tired of trying with me? We keep fucking this up, running circles around each other. What if we keep fucking it up out there?” Dean challenged her, afraid of what she was really feeling.

“You know what? I can’t do this right now. I thought I could, but no. Nope. And don’t bother coming to bed. You can sleep in your old room for the night. I need some time,” she sniffed, trying to hide the tears and emotion rolling off of her. She ran up the stairs and slammed the door to the room they had been sharing. Until that night.

Dean wasn’t even sure what happened, but he knew he had said the wrong thing. He usually did. He grabbed a beer and went up to shower before bed. It was going to be a long couple of weeks in this house with her if he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Dean closed his eyes as the water pounded down on him. The shower was hot but felt good on his tired muscles. Almost six months of manual labor in the garage had been harder than he thought it would be. But he adjusted, he figured it out. His body acclimated to the job, his mind to their new identities and his emotions to this new life. His eyes flew open, struck with the epiphany of how to fix it. He turned off the water and quickly dried himself off when a scream tore through the house. “Y/N!”

Dean took off down the hall to their room, clad in only his towel, and threw open the door. There in the middle of the room was a strange woman with his wife, his pretend wife. Y/N had always held her own in any fight with any monster they had ever encountered, but she was screaming out of terror. Dean had never seen that look on her face before. He couldn’t help but think he was the cause of at least part of it. The woman never even registered his presence in the room.

“Y/N, it doesn’t have to hurt like this. I can make all of that go away,” she cooed, even as Y/N continued to wail. The woman raised her arm to Y/N’s forehead and Y/N started glowing pink.

Dean had never moved so fast in his life. He grabbed the hidden blade and lunged at the angel, plunging the weapon deep within it’s chest. A bright light burst through the room before the angel disappeared, leaving nothing but the vessel and pair of scorched wings on the carpet. “Keep your hands off my wife, bitch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, seriously right?! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

Making Circles: @squirrelnotsam @karikatz12481  @deans-baby-momma​

[shirtlesssammy]

9x10: Roadtrip

Then:

The less I say about Kevin dying, the better.

Now:

So I never like to see a Winchester say goodbye to another hunter when there’s a pyre involved, but this opening montage is pretty well done. Bob Seger really is a great choice. Dean is in a really bad place —like smashing furniture bad. Eeef.

Rock concert time: Well, what we’re supposed to believe is a rock star getting the rundown on the upcoming concert.

They open his room at the venue to find Sam Ezekiel Gadreel. The rock star doesn’t mind (and is it just me who’s never bought the acting here?) Anywho, he calls his assistant a bitch and tells her to get lost. Classy AF. The rock star is really an angel named Thaddeus though. It seems that Thaddeus tortured Gadreel when he was imprisoned in Heaven. He was just doing his job, man, chill out! Torturing Gadreel’s boyfriend Abner though? Totes for fun. (And I realize that the construct of relationships/attraction/companions to angels is foreign to them which is why Cas’s attachment to Dean is so compelling —so human of Cas— but I’ve always been fascinated with this comment —and later when Gadreel and Abner actually interact. I will always read that their attachment ran deeper than regular angel brotherhood?? But that opens another whole can of worms and I’m not going there.) Loong story short, Gadreel stabs him with his angel blade.

Dean is packing up his gear when Cas appears in the war room. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in a while. Cas has angel grace again. He notices the chaos of the library and Dean tells him what happened. 

Dean tells Cas that he’s going to kill the angel that killed Kevin. Cas reminds Dean that will also kill Sam. Dean has major regret for allowing Gadreel to possess Sam.

*Classic DeanCas dialog Alert*

Dean: God, I was so damn stupid.

Cas: You were stupid for the right reasons.

Cas continues to reassure Dean that what he did was right and he tells Dean that if Sam knew an angel was possessing him, he’d be strong enough to cast the angel out. They will have to bypass the angel to get to Sam somehow. They need Crowley, who’s still chained up in the dungeon.

He wants to negotiate. Dean agrees on taking Crowley out of the dungeon for his help with breaking through to Sam.

Since Gadreel took Baby (the real travesty of the whole situation, amirite?), the trio walk to Cas’s car that inexplicably stopped working a couple miles from the bunker. A demon under Abaddon’s rule sees them. Once at the car, Dean quickly figures out that it’s out of gas. As they pile into the car, Crowley calls “shotgun”, but Dean tells him he’s in the back. That prompts a very smug smile from Cas, before Dean tells him, he’s in the back too, to watch over Crowley. LAME.

At the bar that Gadreel’s first vessel just happens to work at, Metatron meets up with Gadreel and the tablets. They discuss Metatron’s Arya Stark list. The killing of Kevin Tran didn’t sit well with Gadreel and he didn’t kill Dean because he wasn’t on the list. Metatron gives him another name. Gadreel balks at it, but Metatron makes it clear that in order to prove himself, he’s got to do what Metatron tells him to do.

At a business, Cas, Crowley, and Dean wait for one of Crowley’s contacts to meet them. This associate can track anything and will be able to find Sam. His contact finally calls for Crowley and will only meet with him. Once alone Cecily and Crowley discuss how hot Cas is.

Downstairs, Cas can’t hear the conversation due to it being warded. Great.

Crowley and Cecily also discuss Abaddon and Crowley asks for her to find the Impala. They learn it’s in Summerset, Mass. And off they go!

Cut to the Impala (and Gadreel) pulling up to a house where the next person on Metatron’s list lives. When Gadreel sees the man, he realizes that it’s actually Abner (his boyfriend). They’re both shocked to see each other. Abner (or the man he’s possessing) has a family. He tells Gadreel to come back in a couple hours so they can catch up. (Someone please just explain the angst and yearning in this scene, plz?)

Fade to later, Gadreel and Abner are in his living room and catching up. 

Abner has changed. He has a simple life and he’s making amends. Gadreel tells him that he killed Thaddeus. Abner just wants to forget all that they went through. He loves his family and they love him.

Cas and Dean are just strolling down the street five feet apart because they’re just dudes that do that. 

They find the Impala and enter the dark home. Dean finds a dead Abner on the floor and Gadreel washing his hands in the kitchen. He quickly takes out Dean, but Cas is waiting in the trenches and punches Gadreel out (like, that shouldn’t affect an angel but I like to believe that Sam’s noggin is SO soft that it’s just an auto response to the vessel at this point) Also, SWOON BAMF CAS.

Elsewhere, Abaddon chats with Cecily who reveals what she knows of Crowley’s current status. She also lets slip that she helped Crowley out with a little favor. When she tries to explain that she’s cleverly playing both sides, Abaddon shows her appreciation with the ol’ knife-to-the-chest.

Back with the angel crew, Sam/Gadreel is tied to a chair while Cas, Dean, and Crowley interrogate him. Cas has never seen the angel possessing Sam before and they demand his true identity. Dean orders him out of his brother. Cas confirms that Sam’s injuries are no longer life threatening and he can help to heal him now. So it’s safe for Sam to be SANS….SERAPH. 

Crowley begins to stick needles into Sam’s head. UGH GROSS. It’s not pleasant. Sam/Gadreel screams and whimpers in agony. Dean eventually can’t take it and leaves the immediate vicinity. Cas follows him out. He understands; it’s hard to see his friend suffering. Dean changes the subject: how is Cas? 

Dean inquires with great sensitivity about Cas’s power up. It’s just like changing out the batteries, yes? Errrrrrrrrrr not quite. Dean apologizes for kicking Cas out of the bunker and we cry in his face a little bit. The worst thing is how Cas looks surprised...like he doesn’t think anything warrants an apology. They both admit to make mistakes. 

*Classic DeanCas dialog Alert*

Dean: We’re a couple of dumbasses?

Cas: I prefer the word trusting. Less dumb. Less ass.

Excuse me while I build a shrine around this scene and light some votive candles.

Crowley interrupts with a breakthrough on Sam. Does this count as Interrupting!Sam? Sam/Gadreel starts rattling off Enochian, including the name “Gadreel.” Cas looks like a building stormcloud. He’s never seen Gadreel, because he’s been locked away in Heaven’s prison for pretty much their entire existence. It turns out that Gadreel’s backstory isn’t terribly innocent: his main claim to fame was letting Lucifer into the Garden. Castiel clearly bears an old angelic grudge against the guy: God left because of Gadreel. It’s hitty-kicky time.

Dean has to hold Cas back. (Or, Cas lets Dean pull him back.) 

Gadreel smirks at them and mocks their efforts to unlock Sam’s consciousness. Dean looks like a caged squirrel and demands that Cas possess Sam so he can help oust Gadreel. Cas is horrified - also he CAN’T because Sam can’t consent to it. Crowley clears his throat and raises his hand. He can jump into any ol’ head he wants. Cas looks appalled at this suggestion but Squirrel asks him to burn off Sam’s warding tattoo. It’s time to let Crowley jump into Sam’s head, as well. Crowley’s price is his freedom. 

Crowley’s a man of his word, at least. He sits down across from Sam and the chains are removed. Dean hands over their code word, “Poughkeepsie.”

With Crowley poking around inside Sam’s head, Dean resumes pacing the room worriedly. We jump into Sam’s head. He’s in the bunker library working on a case - a ghoul is after dead cheerleaders.

Crowley pops in and immediately says “Poughkeepsie” to stop Sam from freaking out. He quickly explains the situation and when Sam doesn’t believe him, shoots Sam right in the chest. Ah, that Crowley! An expert communicator. Sam’s fine, of course, and now he starts to listen to Crowley. 

In a montage, Sam remembers everything that’s happened with Gadreel, starting from the hospital and ending with killing Kevin. (Poor, sad Sam.) “Cast the punk ass, holy roller out!” Crowley exclaims. Right on, man! 

Gadreel appears and Crowley faces him. Gadreel is clearly more powerful and chucks Crowley across the imaginary library. Quick, Sam! Imagine heaps of pillows! Crowley demands that Sam take control and cast out Gadreel. Sam hits Gadreel in the head then tackles him and orders him out. And BOOM! Done.

Cut to Metatron hanging out by Gadreel’s old vessel. Gadreel streams in like a river of life and possesses the bartender again. “Let me guess. Winchester trouble?”

Sam wakes up, as does Crowley. Hooray! You won! Victory lap time. There’s a noise outside. It’s Abaddon! Crowley tells them to sneak out the back door so that he can stall Abaddon for them. Hey, thanks man. They quickly flee while Crowley settles into the interrogation chair like it’s a throne.

Abaddon bursts inside and Crowley swivels in his improved throne. “Hello, darling.” Abaddon orders her minions to kill Crowley, but they’re not willing to take sides. 

Crowley directs a speech to them. He’s back and ready to rumble. “You think this is a fight,” he tells Abaddon. “But it’s a campaign.” He’s out to win hearts and minds. 

Cas does an initial healing on Sam.

Dean faces the music with Sam. He has no remorse for lying to Sam because it saved his life, but he recognizes that Sam is greatly aggrieved. Dean knows he’ll burn for what happened to Kevin, as well. (Does he still feel this way, I wonder?) He’s going to finish the fight against Abaddon and Gadreel alone. He’s poison, after all, and not the fun rock band kind. “I’ll do it alone,” he insists. “People get close to me, they get killed. Or WORSE...”

Dean peels back his enormous well of self-loathing to tell Sam that he’s unwilling to drag anyone along on his tour-de-bad-choices. Sam tells him to leave, and then Cas watches Dean get in his car and drive off alone. 

____________________________________

Stare at These Quotes Long Enough and You’ll See a 3D Unicorn:

Why be an angel when you can be a god?

Human Castiel? Eh. But feathered Castiel? Pffhhh.

“The three amigos ride again.” “He’s not my amigo.”

I wanna talk about anything that isn’t a demon sticking needles into my brother’s brain.

You ruined the universe, you damn son of a bitch!

Right now I’m the goodest guy you got.

Everyone gets a say, a virgin, and all the entrails they can eat.

_____________________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[thedyingmoon]

V x Reader "Don't you dare do that again!!"

"There is nothing you can do that I have not already done to myself" its your motto for the last month. This emotional roller coaster is starting to annoy you. From the very beginning V exerts his dominance and tries to act like the real leader. Which he isn't. With the absence of Dante, you are the more experienced and the oldest Devil Hunter. But when you try to pull the team together, he ignores you. When you plan your next move, he always disagrees with you.

And what's worse, he keeps nudging you with his metal cane.

You have enough. It's time to talk it off. Or to fight, this time in open. However, with little strenght you have left after another quarrel, you decide to keep it private.

...

Please, make it juicy or bloody, or whatever you wish, I just need some real action :D

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

"V." You simply said, gaining the attention of the poet that one boring and uneventful morning. "We need to talk."

The man was about to make a believable excuse when he noticed your narrowed eyes. Heck, he was about to say something but, you quickly cut him off.

"Now." You dropped the word onto his face with enough emphasis to make him oblige. You, then, turned away, expecting him to follow you.

"Should we,...?" Nero whispered to Lady.

The Walking Arsenal only shook her head in response. The Bewitching Devil, on the other hand, made things clear for the young Devil Hunter.

"Let them talk this out." Trish quietly said, knowing the tense situation that has been brewing up between you and V during the last few days.

Meanwhile, the poet only sighed, leaving him with no other choice but to follow you. He was aware of your strength and capabilities as a Devil Hunter, he just prefered to do things his own way. Like you, he was aware of his own power, and he honestly only wanted to make things easier for him by executing wiser, much more efficient plans.

But, it seemed that you were really not meant to be partners, at all - two dominant and headstrong beings clashing with each other at any given time.

He kept all those things in mind as he followed you outside the building towards an empty alleyway nearby.

And when you finally faced him, he was not really surprised at what happened next.

With your left hand, you pointed your gun at him, and with your right hand, you pointed your rapier at him.

However, the poet only grinned at you as he tapped his metal cane on the ground, at the same time summoning his demonic feline familiar - Shadow.

"We do not want bloodshed here." V calmly stated with that silky voice of his, seemingly unfazed with the situation or your eagerness to battle your differences off. "I suggest you bring down your weapon now. Or else."

"Or else, what?" You spat back at the man. Yes, you're a girl. Yes, you're kind of vulnerable right now.

But, no!

In any way or form, you refused to melt with that voice of his like those women he rescued due to the Qliphoth infestation. You refused to bow down in front of him just because you don't have powers like his.

And, most importantly, you refused to bring down your weapon because you simply would never let him say that you're inferior to him.

You both knew this would happen sooner or later. And there's no other reason to hide this any longer.

"Or else, what?!" You repeated your question.

V only tilted his head to the side, his dark locks covering a jade eye in the process.

"Beating you in your current state,... has no meaning." He responded monotonously.

This only made your blood boil even more! You wanted to beat him, to have him cowering in front of you,...

... to make him accept who you are as a Hunter!

Without so much as another counter - argument that might make you seem weak and whiny in front of him, you started shooting at him as you took little steps forward, letting your bullets do the talking for you.

And the man's answer to your "speech" was very predictable. He commanded Shadow to deflect your bullets, morphing into blades and dropping them one by one on the ground like crushed pebbles.

Of course, you knew this would happen. He doesn't want to fight, and now, it seemed that he was getting bored of your attacks! He's not even summoning that mouthy familiar!

However, you were prepared for this. You stopped shooting at him, switched your hold on your rapier, back - hand style, and charged towards him with unbelievable speed.

V, not fully expecting this, merely avoided your blade as it clashed against his metal cane.

That metal cane of his! You hated its very existence! Of those times he nudged you with it like you were some misbehaving child!

And now, it looked like he was slowly realizing it as his hold on that accursed thing started to waver. He was actually trembling beneath you!

V noticed your hostile look on his cane and immediately learned something. Although, he wasn't sure by then. He must confirm it but, first, he must defeat you.

But, what if - ?

"I need you!" V commanded Shadow, struggling against your strength as his familiar rose between you, morphing into a set of sentient blades that clashed against yours.

The poet jumped away from you as you fought with Shadow, making himself safe for the meantime.

However, Shadow was only a shapeshifting Demon, which was nothing compared to you, a Swordmaster, who trained for years with the Legendary Devil Hunter, Dante.

To V's utter horror, and, he must admit, awe, he witnessed your top - notch skill firsthand as you fought against Shadow using your rapier, expertly wielding it in your unique back - hand style. Your graceful footwork enabled you to dodge and deflect the demonic feline's attacks as they landed brutally on you, and your jumps and flips succesfully pushed the familiar back as you made your way towards him for another clash.

You pointed your gun against Shadow and shot her multiple times before plunging your rapier deep into her heart, defeating her and putting her into actual stalemate!

But, V was not done, yet. With his left hand, he finally summoned Griffon, the demonic avian familiar.

"Hey, shorty!" The bird taunted you as he flew towards you with the intent to kill. "Hate to break this to ya but, you are just one annoying insect who always gets in our way! So, FUCK YEAH!"

The bird shot at you multiple times, his electric attacks actually breaking the asphalt beneath you.

V was getting even more interested. You were actually able to dodge Griffon's attacks but, he could see that your movements were slowly getting sluggish. How long would it take until you finally admit that you're getting tired and that you're truly weak against him?

But, you would never admit that to him! Not now when you've come this far!

With an ounce of your strength left, you dodged another electric attack and shot at Griffon, your bullets actually working on him. The bird, who was unaware that your weapons were actually infused with a holy power to counter all demonic attacks, looked at his disintegrating body as you continuously shot at him.

"What in the - ?" Griffon mumbled as he realized that his body was crumbling. "YOU, BITCH!"

The demonic bird made one last effort as he summoned all his powers for one last electric attack. He spread his wings wide and brought down a streak of powerful lightning towards you, which you easily dodged as you made a huge jump. You switched your rapier back to normal hold, holding it up above your head, and plunging it to the bird's chest.

V's eyes widened in fear as Griffon fell and entered his stalemate state. His eyes grew even wider as he saw you angrily charging towards him. He held up his metal cane and defended himself from your attacks, your rapier actually making scratches on his weapon. You switched once more to back - hand and with one last swing, you managed to throw the metal cane away from him.

With gritted teeth, the poet tried to hold you back but, his physical strength was nothing compared to yours. You tackled him, pushed him, and managed to bring him down on the ground with one powerful kick.

V collapsed, his back hitting the hard ground. He was about to retaliate when he felt your body above his, pinning him to the ground with the hilt of your rapier pressed closed to his hand and your gun to his other hand.

"Go on! Summon the golem, I dare you! If you move even a single finger, I swear I'm gonna blow your head off!" You threatened.

V had no intention of summoning Nightmare in the first place. He ever only wanted to calm you down and talk to you. But, you just had to fight against him.

So, he let you.

And now, you're on the top while he's at the bottom.

He let his guard down, and you're already pinning him helplessy to the ground!

What,... an interesting woman,...

"I,... have no intention of doing that,..." V told you in a somewhat sincere tone.

Somehow, his words made you feel even more inferior to him. And it hurt your pride like hell!

"WHY?!" You screamed at him, letting all the emotions and frustrations flow out of you. "IS IT BECAUSE I'M WEAK?! IS IT BECAUSE I'M NOT WORTHY TO BE A LEADER?! OR IS IT BECAUSE I'M USELESS?! TELL ME, V!"

"I,...never considered you as weak." V spoke calmly, trying to get past your hard shell by humbling himself in front of you. "You are strong. I know that now."

"Why do you always disagree with me? Why do you always treat me like a child? WHY DO YOU KEEP NUDGING ME WITH THAT FUCKING CANE?! I'M THE LEADER HERE WHILE DANTE IS AWAY, AND NOT YOU!"

Aha,...

"Forgive me."

"What?"

You were taken aback by the man's words that your hold on him started to loosen a bit.

But, still, V didn't take this opportunity to escape. As strong as you were, he knew he still hurt your feelings. Of course, you only wanted what's best for the group, and he should have listened to your suggestions.

"Forgive me." He repeated. "For not listening to you and for always disagreeing with you. But, know this: I never treated you,... like a child."

"You're lying! You're - !"

Your tears started falling unto his face. It was actually the first time he has ever made a woman cry because of his callousness and pride.

And it honestly unnerved him.

Because, like you, he only wanted what's best for the group.

"I could never lie. Not in front of a strong and reliable woman such as yourself." V told you, carefully sitting up and wrapping his arms around you. "Again, you must,... forgive this fool and his selfish ways."

You felt the sincerity in his tone, and as much as you want to inflict further harm on him, your traitorous heart just couldn't contain itself as your emotions flooded out of you in the form of tears, making the poet's chest wet.

A few hours later, you were actually smiling, feeling stupid for what just happened. Nero and the others were happily having a drink while you chose to isolate yourself to ponder over the things that just occurred.

"You look like you could use some company." V told you as he joined you outside. "Do you feel better?"

You couldn't help but smile at the man as you remembered how you bawled your eyes out at him like a, well, a child.

"Never better." You said to him, feeling all the frustrations leave your system for good.

The poet smiled at you as he tilted his head, pointing his cane towards the dark streets of Red Grave.

"Since it is quite clear that you do not want to indulge yourself with liquour,..." V began in a much friendlier voice - a tone which suited him the best. "... would you like to join me for a Devil Hunting or two? You sure are an interesting fighter."

"Sounds good to me." You answered, glad that your misunderstanding was finally cleared up.

"And while we're at it, you must teach me how to use my cane in that unique style of yours."

Did you just feel yourself blush? "Oh, it's actually quite easy,..."

The two of you soon found out that it was the first of your many nights together as partners in Devil Hunting,...

...and as a powerhouse couple.

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

Thank you, @vergils-daughter for this amazing idea! I hope you enjoyed this "Angst You Very Much" V one shot!

Because, yeah, I made another genre ~TheDyingMoon~ style!

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

[pbpress]

Midnight Coma

By Ruqayyah Pickel

My parents always said I was a resilient child. 

So they weren’t surprised when I took a bowling ball to the head when a fight broke out at our local arcade a couple of months ago--and seemed to be just fine, save for the massive bruise that formed on my head. 

I did still end up in the hospital for about a week, but other than that I was fine. I still felt lightheaded at times, and I passed out quite a bit, so my parents decided to homeschool me to limit the risk of my head trauma getting worse. There were too many things at school that would pose as a hazard to me...especially the stairs. 

Being an only child, spending a lot of time at home was…rather boring. Sure, there were the huge stacks of RPGs and fighting games I got for Christmas, but the bright lights and flashing would probably make my frequent headaches even worse. So I mostly took to reading mystery novels and drawing when I wasn’t doing schoolwork. Most days, though, I preferred to read. Drawing was fun too, of course--I used to love to come up with strange characters, or just drawing cool landscapes I found online when I was out of ideas, but the last thing I needed was for my parents to come and check on me and see the more recent pages of my sketchbook.

Anyone who looked at my sketchbook nowadays would think something was wrong with me. They wouldn’t exactly be lying, though: recently, my pages were filled with stuff that had been happening in my dreams. Shadowy figures standing over my bed, running down dark alleyways, fearing for my life, drawings of me being chained to my bed by spectral shackles…drawing these for the first time used to unnerve me, and I barely ever finished the first ones. However, I gradually came to find it more therapeutic, like I could put a face to the otherwise enigmatic forces that haunted me each night. 

Getting a good night’s rest was nearly impossible nowadays; I was tormented endlessly by sleep paralysis and recurring dreams. I couldn’t go a single night without dealing with either of them, or both. Some nights, I’d find myself frozen in bed, trying to will myself to move with no avail. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t cry out for help, but I just struggled endlessly to free myself from whatever was holding me down, feeling the warm tears falling down my face as I wept in silence. Sometimes my sleep paralysis lasted for over an hour. Before my parents homeschooled me, I ended up missing the bus because of it. 

Other nights, I actually could move...and I kind of had to. I’d find myself in that same dark alleyway, knowing what was to come and dreading it every time. I would walk around aimlessly, waiting, until *he* finally showed up. 

Those heavy footsteps, the chill in the air that my dream tormentor always carried with him. Those black, tattered clothes, his black gloves, his huge hood that held an empty void where his face was supposed to be. He would just stay there for about a minute or so—I counted—before bursting into a sprint towards me. I couldn’t fight him, I couldn’t reason with him, all I could do was run as fast as I could and scream, hoping some dream god could hear me. This faceless killer always carried with him a razor edged knife that was curved just slightly, and though I’ve yet to feel it pierce my skin, just thinking about how it would feel sent shivers down my spine. 

Before long, I started seeing this maniac in real life, too. No, not on the street wandering the waking world, luring other innocent victims to their death. I started seeing him in my room, while I lay there, motionless, helpless. He stood over my bed, the knife in hand at his side. I saw it, he knew I saw it. But he did nothing. Not for a while, at least. 

Then, he started to take action. 

He would raise the knife up, slowly; sometimes it wouldn’t even fully reach the top before I had managed to blink him out of existence. Sometimes, though, the knife would go higher, sometimes reaching the very top. Some nights, the knife would already be fully raised when he showed up. Then, like a roller coaster car at the top of the hill, it would plunge straight down. Only then was I finally jolted out of my sleep paralysis.

Too many times have I seen his nonexistent face.

Too many times have I pleaded with him to leave me alone.

Too many times have I screamed in silence, felt my heart thunder against my chest in real life as I tried to outrun this shadowy killer. 

Too many times have I laid in my bed, frozen, my face drenched with cold sweat as I woke up with a comatose start after my relentless tormentor was inches away, always just inches away from finishing the job. 

And too many times have I broken free from his chase, thinking I was safe, only to find him just inches away in the real world. 

When I did eventually wake up, I found myself in tears. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to go to sleep. Whenever I asked my parents for help, they just told me to “look up a solution, ”or “just try to sleep.”

And I did.

I always did.

I never stopped trying.

And I never stopped failing.

But I had enough. There had to be something I could do. Fortunately, I did have one person to confide in: my good friend Quinn, who claimed to be a witch. One morning, after yet another run-in with the shadowy killer, I sent him a text:

“Can you come over?” 

Immediately, I saw that he read my message. And so I waited. Two minutes later, I heard a knocking on my window. I turned to see the wild-haired, freckled witch boy crouched on my windowsill. He had on his signature necklace with a metallic feather on it. His brown shirt was torn a bit, creating a slight v-neck, and his “lucky witch hat” was tied on his back with the string. He stumbled through the window as I opened it, and he landed on my floor.

“I see you’ve called on my services once again,” the witch boy said, putting his hat on as he sat cross-legged. 

I nodded. “It’s gotten worse. He’s started showing up in real life, too.” 

“Like, you’ve seen him around?” Quinn asked. 

“No. He’s shown up right beside my bed, sometimes even stabbing me.” 

“Well, not really stabbing you, now, right?” 

“No…at least I don’t think so.” My hand instinctively moved toward my abdomen, where I would often find the blade just inches from me before I woke up. “But during these nights, when I woke up…I could feel a slight stinging sensation right here.” I gestured toward my abdomen. “I...also found a bruise there earlier today.”

“How strange…” Quinn said. “I suppose he’s finally caught up to you.” 

“Caught up to me? How?” I asked, worried.

He gave me a solemn smile. 

“It’s as I suspected. He’s a dream demon.” He opened his purse and flipped open to a page in his homemade spell book, then showed it to me. “Creatures of the night that only attack a victim while they’re sleeping. Yours just happened to be strong enough to reach the waking world…and I can only think of a few that can do that.”

I felt the color drain from my face. Did I really have a dream demon?

“Is there any way to get rid of one?” I asked Quinn. 

He thought for a second, examining his book, then looked up at me. 

“Standard exorcism—though not like you’re any good at that—won’t work on this particular nasty,” he explained. 

Ignoring his hurtful comment, I urged him to go on. 

“Fighting a dream demon,” he continued, “requires one to arm themselves mentally, and, to an extent, physically. The way I see it, you’re at an advantage and disadvantage simultaneously. Your greatest weakness is your greatest strength. And you may fear it, but the truth is, you will have to accept it eventually. Especially in a case like this, you don’t have much of a choice.”

I felt my face contort into an expression of confusion. As always, Quinn’s riddles had caught me off guard. I read his own expression, hoping he would give me some kind of clue, but that slight smile stayed on his face. 

Finally, I had come to realize what he meant. Quinn and I had talked for so long that I was somewhat accustomed to the kind of magic that he gets up to. I was then, at least, familiar with the “solution” he had in mind.   

Astral projection…

Quinn first told me about it a little while ago. I won’t lie, the ability to project one’s soul out of their body sounded awesome...except it required the body being completely still in order to pull it off. 

In other words, I would have to enter sleep paralysis. 

In other words, I had to do the exact thing that led me straight to my supposed dream demon. 

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…” I said, “Then absolutely not. Astral projection is way too risky for me. Look what damage he’s done to me already! I might as well just slap a sign on me that says ‘hey! I’m helpless! Come kill me!’ This plan is completely counterproductive! Are you out of your mind?!” 

Quinn let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Oh come on,” he said. “I promise you, it won’t be so bad. You just have to trust me. Besides, I’ve been doing this longer than you have. Your whole sleep paralysis problem is going to make astral projection a lot easier. Like I said--your greatest weakness is your greatest strength.”

It was my turn to let out a shaky sigh, one heavy with anxiety. 

“Very well.” I sat on the floor in front of him, legs crossed, ready to listen, like a kindergartener. “What do I need to do?” 

“Finally come to your senses, hm?” Quinn gave me another sly smile. “Lovely. Now, listen closely. I don’t have much time, so I can only say this once. The instructions are as follows...”

—————

Quinn’s instructions stuck with me that whole night.

Step 1. 

I got in bed, lying flat on my back and throwing my covers over me to where only my head was exposed. I stared at the dreamcatcher on my ceiling; more specifically, the very center of it. I focused on my breathing, and tried to clear my mind of everything. Slowly, the thoughts of everything, save for Quinn’s instructions, slipped out of my mind…that fateful day at the arcade…the shadow killer that pursued me every night…the adrenaline from the other night as he chased me down in the dreamworld…

Step 2. 

That’s when I began to feel…strange. Like my body was shaking, vibrating, but as far as I was aware I wasn’t moving a muscle. As Quinn had instructed, I was to leave these feelings alone and stay completely still. 

Step 3. 

I thought about moving my right hand, but kept it still. Then I moved up my arm, willing myself to move it up and fight against the physical restrictions I had placed on it. This went on for several, unsuccessful minutes, until finally…I felt my arm move, as if it actually was. But my physical arm lay still. Then, I moved on to my left hand and repeated the process. Then my head, both legs, and gradually…I lifted myself up from my bed, leaving my body behind. 

For a moment, it felt like I was still in bed, then I looked back—or down, rather—to find myself lying in bed, eyes shut. It reminded me all too much of an open casket funeral, and my stomach dropped just looking at me.

My stomach dropped even further when I realized I was floating.

The very air around me felt like an ocean, and I frantically flailed around trying to find any sort of ground. When I tried to hang onto the edge of my bed, my hand phased right through. 

Just fly over to the ground! I thought to myself. This should be easy!

But it wasn’t. The weightlessness was jarring; I flailed around desperately in the darkness looking for something to cling onto. It didn’t help that I felt so vulnerable without the fleshy cocoon that was my body. The sensation of someone—something—trying to pull me away, was ceaseless. The room around me felt larger as I continued my desperate flailing, like any sort of anchor I could use—my bookshelves, the foot of my bed, my chair, the windowsill—just got further and further away. 

I kicked my legs out, trying to force my body to go upright, until I finally managed to jerk myself upright. Confident in my position, I landed my feet on the ground, praying I wouldn’t slip under the floor. 

To my surprise, my feet landed on the floor without slipping through. 

I didn’t begin to question how I managed to stay on the second floor; I was too busy reeling from the probably-too-long process of trying to steady myself. Now all I had to do was wait and see if that faceless terror decided to come for me again. 

And so I waited.

And waited. 

And waited. 

It’s been several minutes and nothing was happening. Surely some outside force was causing my sleep paralysis…right? So where was it? If I had managed to pull off a feat like, oh, I dunno, forcing my spirit out of my body, then nothing was impossible at this point…

Right? 

Finally, I gave up and decided that I was probably better off getting myself out of this state of paralysis. I stood on the edge of the bed, right where my feet were, turned around, and fell back on top of my body, hoping to be jolted awake by the sudden return of my spirit—

And fell through the bed instead, stopping myself just in time before I fell through the first floor, too. I looked around and, after taking a minute to process everything in the dark, came to the conclusion that I was in my living room. Annoyed, I drifted back towards my staircase, intending to go back and try again—when I felt something grab me as I turned the corner. I was pulled back into the living room, and found myself face-to-face with an eerily familiar figure…

…the same black-clad, faceless, knife-wielding killer from my dreams. Grabbing my wrist, he held the knife behind my neck, as if to draw me closer. I was almost forced to look at the empty void where his face should have been. 

You know how some people say that if you stare into the void long enough, the void stares back at you? That’s kind of what happened to me…but worse.

No, the void didn’t just stare back at me. It smiled at me, a cruel, triumphant smile that only grew as it saw the absolute terror on my face as I felt the cold steel against my neck; as if it could just feel the overwhelming despair within me that only continued to eat at any hope of me getting out of this situation alive. 

“Who...are you?” I whimpered. “What the hell do you want from me?”

My dream demon gave no response. It didn’t do anything, in fact. As panicked as I was, I started to at least regain my senses when I noticed that this thing was almost completely still. It didn’t even look like it was breathing. 

Was it actually frozen? Or was it toying with me?

Either way, I wouldn’t let this be the end. 

One last chase, I decided. One last chase. I’ve already outran it several times. What was one more?

I immediately broke off into a sprint, pushing my hooded tormentor’s arm that held the knife away as I stumbled on my way out the door. Being incorporeal, I at least had the advantage of being able to phase through the locked door instead of opening it. The feeling of phasing through solid was much more jarring than I could handle, and I continued to stumble a bit as I ran far, far away from the house. I could barely feel my transparent feet hitting the concrete, or the tree branch that would’ve smacked me right in the face after I ran into it. I couldn’t even feel the wind on my face, though I’m not sure if this came from being too overwhelmed with terror or a side effect of being incorporeal. 

The only thing I did feel, however, was the constant, incessant dread of my accursed stalker barely even a foot away from me. I didn’t want to turn around, I begged myself not to look, trying and failing to comfort myself with the lie that the killer wasn’t as close as I thought it was, there was no way, no human can run that fast. The even more obvious lie, of course, was that this was another dream, and even if it does catch up and strike me, I would wake up back in my bed, back in my body.

Finally, I caved and turned around, only to find myself facing that sinister void once more. I screamed, tripping and collapsing to the floor face-down. I turned back up to face my attacker, who was innocently holding its knife behind its back--no, that wasn’t a knife anymore, I noted. It had somehow grown longer than the razor-edged knife it had before, and I could now see the end of the blade from behind the void-faced freak’s back. It had now reached the length of a dagger, or maybe just bordering on the edge of being the length of a shortsword. 

I could only crawl away from my tormentor as I struggled to stand back up. As I pushed myself off the ground and back on my feet, my stomach dropped when I realized my feet were no longer touching the floor. Though I tried desperately to get myself back on the ground, remembering how jarring the feeling of floating had been the first time, I realized that my would-be killer was only a few feet away from me at best, and I should take advantage of this new ability. I willed myself forward, pushing through the air like a swimmer pushes through water, and then did the same going upwards, up past a nearby three-story house. 

I was flying, I realized with awe and wonder, which was quickly cut short when I saw my tormentor climbing up the same house. Part of me wanted to warn the neighbors inside, but every other bit of me just wanted to make sure I actually survived this nightmare. 

I flew back to my house, phasing through trees and powerlines and a bit of scaffolding, until at last I nearly missed my own home. Spotting my room on the second story, I phased through the window and back into my bedroom. It was still dark in my room, but I made out the shape of a body in the darkness. 

But...it wasn’t my body. 

At least, I didn’t think it was. It looked too weak; some bits of hair had fallen out, I looked like I lost a small, yet noticeable amount of weight, and when I looked closer at my face, it didn’t look like me at all. I looked much more pale, my lips were extremely dry, and I could make out the color of an old and large bruise that covered over a third of my forehead. Suddenly, I felt my stomach drop when I realized what was so familiar about how I looked.

I looked dead. 

That’s when I felt a cold breeze come in through the same window, and turned around to find my void-faced, black-clad killer raising a giant onyx scythe towards me. I found myself unable to move, unable to fly away. I just stood there, paralyzed with terror, looking dead in the eyes at the same monster that faced every soul at the end of their lives, no matter how much they begged for mercy.

Its giant scythe, its black clothing…this wasn’t a demon, was it? 

No. It was something worse. People dealt with this thing more frequently than demons, yet this walking void carried with it more terror, more despair, more ruin than any demonic creature could even dream of. My parents always said I was a resilient child, yet my resolve shattered in the face of this monster. I stood in front of it, weeping silently as the sheer dread of my tormentor filled me from head to toe. 

“Please,” I begged. “I held on for so long…please don’t take me away.” 

But it didn’t listen. It never listened. My “resilience” may have made me feel special, but right now I was no different from everyone else—standing in front of this monster, pleading for their lives, never receiving an answer.

And so, like everyone else, all I did was stand there as its onyx scythe tore through my soul, letting out one final silent scream as I felt my very being, and the remnants of my resolve, fall apart. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[btsfanficsbcwhynot]

The Hunter (Jungkook x Reader) pt. 4

Genre: Angst, SupernaturalAU

Summary: (This story is based on the show Supernatural) You’ve been a hunter since you were young. You’ve never found yourself falling for someone until you met Jungkook who brought actual joy into your life. What happens when a hunter falls in love?

Masterlist

previous chapter  - next chapter 

Mark of Cain

The Mark of Cain was the seal created by God to lock away the Darkness. God passed the mark to Lucifer who then passed it to Cain, the Father of Murder, to use as a source for the First Blade. The Mark was passed on from generation to generation. You were the current bearer of the Mark, and the only one who managed to control it. Your mother passed it on to you before she got dragged into hell.If she didn’t, the Mark would’ve broken the seal and the Darkness would’ve escaped. You were just 12 years old when it happened. Since then your life changed completely.  Because of its origin, dating back to before God's creation of the Universe, the Mark of Cain has often been called "the first curse."When the bearer of the Mark receives a mortal wound that would kill them, the Mark transforms their soul into a Knight of Hell, so that it can live on, and never perish. It is also revealed that if the bearer does not satisfy the Mark, by killing, it will slowly but steadily turn them into a demon. That’s why you became a hunter, just like your father.  You tried everything to get it off you, cutting it, burning it.. but nothing worked. Your father’s friend once told you that you needed the pass the curse onto a powerful source in order to free yourself. A spell existed that would remove the mark from a human's body but no one risked to say it. If it was not done properly, it would've done more harm than good. Now you were doomed to walk around with this horrible Mark. You were the human safe to keep the Darkness locked it. If it were to be released, the world would've been doomed. When you first used the Blade, you felt uncontrollable murderous rage but you didn’t want to kill innocent people.The Mark had some great powers that any one would desire to have, which included:

It powers the First Blade

Grants immunity to demonic, angelic and magical powers

Telekinesis

Super Strength

Resurrection

Conversion into a demon

Precognition

Binding the Darkness

Corruption of the wielder

Absolute Immortality

Sure, for everyone else having those powers would be a blessing, but you've been living with those powers for years. At first you didn't know how to handle all your new powers but after some practice and passing years you managed to control your strength and your uncontrollable rage. Even though you were immortal, you still feared for your life. You had to keep killing in order to remain human. And you had to for your father's sake...He was already scared of your abilities and you didn’t want to completely lose him once you became a demon.

You had texted Jungkook the address to your hotel. You would've left the town sooner or later so you didn't really worry. You were quite excited to see Jungkook, even though you should've been mad that he left you hanging like that. "(Y/N)... That boy is outside waiting for you" Your dad said behind the closed door. "His name is Jungkook... Tell him I'll be there in a minute." You heard him walk away from your door. You put on a nice flowy dress that stopped just above your knee. It was a nice sunny day and the weather was just perfect for a date. Even though you didn't know where he was taking you. You grabbed your jacket and as you did, you saw that god damn mark again. You were disgusted by yourself. As you left your room you saw Jungkook walking up and down nervously. Again, he looked so good in casual clothing. His hair was parted again. That was definitely your favorite hairstyle on him. "You look absolutely stunning" he smiled at you and looked at you up and down. You did a little twirl, making your dress flow up a bit "Cute huh?" He nodded, agreeing. He took your hand and led you to his car and opened the door for you like the gentleman he was "Where are you taking me?" you asked as you got in "Somewhere special" he smiled and clothed the door, jogged to the other side and got in. He watched as you put on your seatbelt and his eyes fell on your mark. He grew silent and just started driving. The silence was awkward and it was slowly eating you "So... what's that on your arm?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the road. You looked down at your arm not sure if he meant the Mark or the bandage."Oh. I injured myself yesterday. My dad wrapped it up for me" You said. You hurt yourself while fighting that Ghoul last night so you weren’t lying. "Not that. The scar above it." You gulped and thought of what to say "It happened when I was a child. I don't remember" you said nervously. "Oh, I see." You looked out of the window as he parked the car. You saw a huge ferries wheel and kids running around "Really?" you laughed. Hearing you laugh made Jungkook soften his frown. "You told me you haven't been to a Theme Park in years" He shrugged and got out of the car and you did the same. "Let's go!" he took your hand and pulled you towards the entrance. You laughed and held onto his hand tightly. You guys rode almost every roller coaster, ate at almost every stand and just simply enjoyed the time together. He pulled you to a photo booth "Let's lock this day in a picture, shall we?" He smiled and pulled  the curtain so he could enter. He sat down on the stool and pulled you on his lap. You closed the curtain "Sorry if I'm crushing your thighs" you giggled as you selected filters. You chose a bunny ear filter as the first one "I literally see no difference. You look exactly the same." You said and that made Jungkook laugh really hard. At the same time the first picture was taken. As the last picture was about to be taken, Jungkook kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms around you. You blushed madly and got off his lap in embarrassment "Let's look at them" You grabbed the pictures and looked at each one of them. Most of them were goofy and dorky but the last one was just straight up adorable. 

You got ripped out of your thoughts as you heard a familiar voice in the background. You knew it was John, a hunter aswell. He was really talented and was one of your father’s greatest friends... until you turned into a monster. Now almost every hunter in the area was hunting you. All of them feared that you’d turn against them and let the Darkness take over you. “I saw her walking in this direction. Do you think it’ll work?” John’s son asked him. You couldn’t understand what he answered him due to Jungkook asking you if you wanted some cotton candy. “That would be nice, thank you. I’ll be waiting here.” He walked off and you made your way to John. His son jumped back as he saw you and grabbed his bottle of holy water “Believe me boy, holy water is not going to do anything” He reached into his back pocket to grab salt but you just rolled your eyes. “You should teach your son better. I’m not a god damn demon. Nor am I a Knight of Hell. If you remember, I was the one who killed the last Knight of Hell. So stop fucking hunting me like I am some kind of animal” Even John stepped away, fearing your powers and abilities. “I’m sorry, (Y/N), you know I can’t let you walk around freely” He was about to pull out a syringe but you were quick to twist his arm and break it. “Even if I am not a killer, don’t forget what I am capable off. Now piss off before I really murder a human” You let go off his hand and walked back to the spot where Jungkook had last seen you. 

Jungkook took you home before midnight like he promised your father and walked you to your door. “I had fun. We should do that again sometimes” He leaned in for a kiss but you stepped back. You thought you’d get too attached once you kissed him and you certainly didn’t want that. You didn’t want to put someone’s life in danger because you just got attached. “text me once you get home” You smiled and opened the door. You closed the door and locked it like you always did. You made sure that the salt in front of the door was still in tact before heading to bed. Jungkook stood in front of the door, blood boiling as he smashed the syringe he was holding behind his back on the ground. “Fucking bitch” He hissed.

[thenightmaregrrl]

Orion's Body 2: He's Back- Chapter 14: Roller

Back at the station parking lot, Megatron and Roller sat in the cruiser, silent. They didn’t share a glance, it felt awkward, too awkward. Too awkward to look at one another, to breathe, to move. 

Soon it got too much, and Roller broke the silence. 

“What the fuck just happened?” He asked, in shock still. 

“You witnessed the jailbait you were fucking as a cadet mutiliate his face only for it to grow back?” Megatron responded sarcastically. 

Roller shot him a glare, “I know what I saw! I’m just wondering…. What the fuck happened that made him like this?” 

Megatron sighed and got comfy, it was gonna be a long night. 

Roller looked at him, confused, but Megatron simply asked, “Remember the fire five years ago?” 

“Yeah, I managed to get out via the snatch hatch.” 

Megatron nodded, “Yeah, well, we did as well, Orion was just… out of it, he acted like he was drugged or roofied or something, then the lead singer, fuck I forgot her name.” 

“Elita?” Roller provided. 

“Yeah, her.” Megatron nodded, “She sneaked up from behind, offering Orion high grade, saying he’s in shock or something. He took it and went with her to her creepy van.” 

“Wait, they gave him high grade?” Roller interrupted. 

“Yeah. They did, so they drove off, I was in the parking lot.” 

“What did they do to him?” Roller asked. 

“They took him to the Falls, tied him down, and used him as a virgin sacrifice to Unicron.” 

“Except Orion isn’t a virgin, hasn’t been one since junior high.” Roller said slowly. 

Megatron nodded, “Yep. So, as a result demonic transference happened.” 

“Demonic what now?” Roller asked. 

Megatron sighed, “Demonic transference occurs when you use a non-virgin in a virgin sacrifice, the results of the sacrifice still happen but the victim will become possessed and feast on the energon and fuel of others in order to maintain their life force. If he has eaten, he gets all glowy, and handsome. But after a while, he loses it and becomes cranky and loses his shine.” 

“How do you know all this?” Roller asked. 

“I did research in the school library.” Megatron answered simply. 

“So all those deaths…” Roller’s voice trailed off, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his mind. 

Megatron nodded, “Mirage, Swindle, Starscream, Smackdown, Brainstorm, all him.” 

Roller blinked, “So the cheek carving?” 

Megatron nodded, “When he’s full, like he is right now, he’s virtually indestructible. I’ve seen it, but when he’s hungry, he can die, but only with a blade to the spark.” 

“So that explains the boxcutter.” Roller looked at the steering wheel. 

“He put up a fight though, the bastard got me in the shoulder.” Megatron rubbed the scars there. 

“What else can he do?” Roller asked. 

“He can levitate, heal from fatal wounds, and be hot.” 

“You seem to focus on the hot thing.” Roller pointed out. 

“I’m gay, Roller, it’s kinda hard not to.” 

“I see, have you seen it in action?” Roller asked, to compartmentalize all this new info, he’s entering cop mode, asking questions, gathering evidence. 

“Yeah, saw him hover out of the dead pool after vomiting black bile like shit all over me and Starscream. And saw him get impaled with a pool skimmer.” 

“Holy shit.” Roller exhaled. 

“Did he say why he was killing those bots?” 

Megatron shrugged, “He said they were placeholders, that they come and go.” 

Roller couldn’t help but feel hurt by that, he and Orion weren’t close sure but… he still liked him to a degree. 

“Alright, my turn to interrogate, what happened to you after the fire?” Megatron shifted in his car seat to face Roller. 

Roller paused, “I went home, I couldn’t go to work to make a report, I was still a cadet. I didn’t see the van or anything.” 

Megatron nodded, “And with Orion?” 

“He stopped visiting all together. Never called or texted.” He answered. 

“Until you saw that I iced him with a boxcutter.” Megatron replied. 

Roller nodded. 

“So, what are you gonna do now?” Megatron asked. 

Roller looked at him, “I’m gonna help you finish him.” 

Megatron looked at him in surprise, “Why?” 

“Well, he’s a serial killer, killed 5 people, needs to be stopped.” Roller answered simply. 

Megatron nodded, “Sure this isn’t the cop academy talking?” 

Roller looked, “It isn’t. Plus it’s not like you get the chance every day to kill a demon.” 

Megatron snorted, “Yeah, I guess you don’t.” 

[rachembol]

Dust in the Wind (Part 10/?)

Pairings: Sam x Reader (Eventually)

Genre/Warnings: Self-discovery, vengeance, grief, absentee father, typical Supernatural violence, cursing, fluff, shitty writing, idk probably typos?

Words: ~2.2 k

Summay:  Life as a post doc was stressful, but your typical norm: lecturing in the morning, working in the lab in the afternoon, and finally grading homework and working on your publications in the evening.  Of course, that life came crashing down the day the sheriff of your hometown called telling you of your mother’s brutal murder. As the only child of a single mother, you had to return to your small Midwestern town to bury the only person who supported you and pushed you through everything.  While sorting through her belongings, you had come across a small box whose contents had you switching your title from Doctorate in Biology to Hunter.  What would become the search of your lifetime will not end the way you expect it.

a/n: You hustle the king of hustling.  Also, jealous Saaaaaam.

Series List | Part 9 | Part 11  

You had sobered up in minutes after Sam’s announcement and pulled your laptop out to obtain the reports in which he had been referring to.  Sure enough, more than one cop that was on the scene had mentioned the rotten egg smell that had hung in the air.  Some of the lab analysis even indicated specks of sulfur on different swabs of the scene. You had mentally kicked yourself over and over again for letting this slide.  You, a hunter for God’s sake, let this get passed you.  It wasn’t entirely your fault, as you were too emotional to look at these reports for years, but the obvious facts were there.  Your mom had been murdered by a demon and because of your emotional turmoil, the trail now ran cold.

Three weeks passed faster than Dean could finish a fifth of whiskey, and in that time, you had come up with hardly anything about the case.  You had every report spread out across one of the tables in the library, photos of the scene that you refused to look at as much as possible lying in the mix.  Every day you woke up and got to work trying to piece the dying trail together.  You started calling other hunters who lived in the same area to see if they remembered any significant omens that popped up three years ago, which resulted in no answers. Now, you sat for the fifth day in a row with nothing new to add and a case slipping through your hands.

The Winchesters did their best to help you. Sam would stay up most nights with you and attempt to combat the late-night pessimism that would creep up on you.  This whole ordeal was becoming an emotional roller coaster that you thought had been put to rest.  Fortunately, Sam brought you back to Earth before you went to bed each night, whether it was cracking jokes or changing the subject to something more relaxing.  Without him, you feel as if you may not have made it these three weeks.

Sam and Dean entered the room bickering to each other about a potential case a few states over.  Wanting a distraction, your ears perked up to listen for the details.

“-quick and easy case, Sam!  To get her back on her feet.”

“Dean, I don’t know.  I mean, yeah, she could definitely use some time out of the bunker, but should we really be pushing her to take on a different case, even briefly?”

Sam wasn’t wrong, you clearly needed to get out of this concrete hole in the ground before you drowned in dust, but a case? No matter how short it would be, you didn’t know if you could walk away from your much needed and newly founded revenge.

But there’s been nothing new in days…

Your heart shrank at the thought of putting your case on the back burner, but you didn’t know how much longer you could take it mentally.  As much as you had tried to ignore the crime scene photos, they had already begun to haunt your dreams along with Bobby’s wooden cross.

“Dean’s right.” You spoke, just loud enough for the boys to hear.

They jumped at your response, not knowing you had been present.  Dean shrugged at Sam after the long-haired giant shot him a look.

Clearing his throat, Sam walked over and leaned against the table, looking down at you in your chair.  “Are you sure, Y/N?  I know this isn’t something you can walk away from, and we aren’t asking you to. Taking a break is important but we don’t want you to take one for our sake.”

The sincerity he would always have when speaking to you never failed to make you smile.  You stood up and ruffled his hair with one hand while turning to Dean. “Honestly, I think ganking a bastard will have the exact therapeutic effect I need right now.”

Two days later, the three of you walked into a no name bar in the middle of Wyoming.  Castiel bailed out on this hunt as there was another lead on Jack.  On the car ride over, the boys finally filled you in on the whole “spawn of Satan” dilemma, surprising you that Lucifer’s heir was more of a cute kitten than a death machine.  After the explanation, however, you now understood Castiel’s need to find the kid, and silently wished him luck.

The bar was packed for a Thursday night, but you didn’t mind much.  You picked out the table while the boys headed to the counter, Dean ordering drinks while Sam got the WiFi password.  Once they returned, the three of you began hashing out a plan.

Dean was right when he said it was a simple case. Due to some strange police reports on a few men attacking their spouses but having a solid alibi at the same time, it was obvious that all that was left to do was find the shifter and end their tyranny.  The three of you came prepared with silver rings and nicely sharpened silver blades, the latter being hidden of course.  Everyone you had come across in town you kindly shook hands with in hopes of finding the culprit, but after over twenty-four hours of fake smiles, you were all but spent.

You were discussing which stores in the area should be hacked for security footage when a woman in her late twenties came over. Sam wasn’t paying much attention to her as he was searching for department stores in the area on his laptop.  Lust was plaster all over her face as she turned to Sam and asked him if he would like to play some billiards with her.  At this point you were damn sure the planning session was over and would have to resume tomorrow.  You began putting away your notebook and other belongings in anticipation to head back to the motel when you heard Sam kindly decline her offer, something that shocked you.  After all, this girl was drop dead gorgeous and obviously looking for some fun.

“Oh, no problem!  Hope you guys have a fun night!” She took her leave but not without winking at the older Winchester first.

Dean growled after she was out of earshot.  “That sly girl.  Come’s over to ask one, gets rejected, then traps the other.”

The look of disgust hung on Sam’s face.  “Dude, don’t drool on the table, that’s gross.”

Dean’s eyes followed the young woman as he licked his lips.  “I got to admit, Sammy.  You missed a good opportunity.  If you won’t go for it…”

“Go right ahead, Dean.” Sam chuckled.

“I’ll think about it.  Besides, I’m not the only one looking for some fun.”  Dean turned towards you and raised his eyebrows in a provocative manner.

“Dean Winchester, I swear to God if you are drunk hitting on me…”

“What? No!  That would piss of S-“  He was cut off by a grunt of pain and many swear words.  You hadn’t noticed but Sam had kicked his brother right in the shin without looking up from his laptop and maintaining a deadpan look.

“What the hell happened?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulders.

“Uh, leg cramp.” He lied.  “What I was getting at, anyway, is that there is a gentleman eyeing miss Y/N over here.  The real question is, will she go for it?”

Even though you had been with the boys for almost a month now, they didn’t know much about your personal life before hunting. Sam had wanted to ask a few times but thought he had done enough damage by going through your mom’s murder case. Now, you were in a situation where the boys would learn about your lack of confidence.  You hated the idea of social interaction, especially with strangers.  You were never a partier in college, as you much preferred to have your head in a book or drinking with a small group of friends.  You decided that telling the truth would be your only way of getting out of Dean’s line of questions and possible peer pressure.

But what if I can make this a bet with Dean?

You were smitten at the idea of hustling the infamous Dean Winchester at his own game.  That’s when you initiated your plan.

“Him?” You asked as you followed Dean’s eyes to the bar.  There stood a young man who, by the looks of it, was not your type but you couldn’t deny that he was hot.

Dean nodded, and you smirked.  Look around the room, you found an even more attractive fellow by the pool tables.  Not only was he attractive, but he had a particular quality that you were hoping to find.  “Hmm… I think I can do better.”

“Better?  He’s probably the third hottest guy here, with me being number one.”

Dean’s narcissism had you throwing your head back in laughter.  “Not gonna comment on that statement, however, what about that guy?”  You pointed at the most attractive man in the room who stood over by the pool tables.

Well, maybe not the most attractive, Y/N.  You got Sam-freaking-Winchester sitting right next to you-

You shook the thought away, appalled that your mind had even went there.  Luckily, your charade didn’t falter because of it.

“Him?  Oh, honey. He’s got every gal in this place looking at him.  Not saying you couldn’t compete with them because, man-“  Another groan escaped from Dean’s lips as he reached down to rub his shin. He shot a look at his brother, but Sam simply shook his head.  Turning to see your smug look, he realized it was you who had kicked him this time.

“Aww, did Deano get another leg cramp?” You smiled nonchalantly.  “No drunk hitting on me, Dean.”

“Does that mean I can when I’m sober-“  He was cut off as you kicked him for a second time, a whine escaping his lips.  At this point, Sam was laughing his ass off.

“How about we make a bet, Winchester?”  You asked, enjoying the sight of Dean falling into the trap you laid before him.

He eyed you suspiciously, and you worried he may have caught on to your hustle.  “What are the terms?”

“If I can get that guy to go with me tonight, you owe me twenty bucks.  If he declines, I owe you.”

While Dean lulled over the offer, you noticed the change in Sam.  He was a little tenser, like he had heard something that upset him.  You then began to worry of what he thought of all of this.

Shit, what if Sam is jealo-  NO! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it, brain!

You wanted to smack yourself at the thought but keeping your blush at bay was more important to focus on.  Your attention returned to Dean when he spoke.

“Deal.”

“Alright.” You said as you scooted out of the booth. Before heading over to the pool tables, you adjusted your blouse and straightened your hair.  You knew it wouldn’t work on the man at all, but if you were going to successfully hustle Dean, you needed to act the part.

You walked over to the man and waved to get his attention.  As you introduced yourself, he looked down on you apologetically.

“Hey, don’t panic.  I know I’m barking up the wrong tree.” You whispered.  Relief flashed across his face, happy to know he wouldn’t have to turn you down because you definitely weren’t his type.  

“One of my friends made a bet with me saying I couldn’t go home with the most attractive man in the bar.  This friend is a particularly annoying hustler, I’m talking like dangerously good, and I would like to give him a taste of his own medicine.”  Fortunately, your back was facing the Winchesters, therefore Dean couldn’t read your lips.

Catching what you were saying without actually saying it, the man smiled and waited for you to continue.

“I know this may sound super fucking weird but, would you be willing to pretend to go home with me?  I know that’s asking a lot and its totally cool if you don’t.  All I need is to walk out the bar with you and after that we can go our separate ways.  Hell, I’ll throw in a drink too for the trouble.”

After he considered your offer, he agreed.  To continue playing along, you two went to the bar and spent about twenty minutes talking and drinking.  You paid for his drink and soon the two of you walked out of the bar.  Before you disappeared, you shot a quick wink at Dean.

“Fuck… I just lost twenty bucks.” He sighed.

Sam remained focused on his laptop throughout the whole ordeal.  He didn’t want to ruin your fun with his bad attitude.  Dean picked up on the change as soon as you had left the booth.

“Sam-“

“Don’t.” Sam looked up from his laptop and glared at his brother.  “I really don’t want to hear it.”

Series List | Part 9 | Part 11

[bojastrology-blog]

The signs as anime of summer 2017

Aries: Kakegurui

Hyakkaou Private Academy. An institution for the privileged with a very peculiar curriculum. You see, when you’re the sons and daughters of the wealthiest of the wealthy, it’s not athletic prowess or book smarts that keep you ahead. It’s reading your opponent, the art of the deal. What better way to hone those skills than with a rigorous curriculum of gambling? At Hyakkaou Private Academy, the winners live like kings, and the losers are put through the wringer. But when Yumeko Jabami enrolls, she’s gonna teach these kids what a high roller really looks like!

Taurus: Dive!!

The series revolves around the Mizuki Diving Club (MDC), which is on the verge of closing down after having financial troubles. The club’s new coach persuades the club’s parent company to stay open on one condition: that the club sends one of its members to next year’s olympics as part of Japan’s olympic team.

Gemini: Katsugeki! Touken Ranbu

The year is 1863 as the tumultuous samurai era is coming to an end, Japan is split between the pro-shogunate and anti-shogunate factions. The fate of the world is threatened as an army of historical revisionists are sent from the future to alter the course of history. In order to bring these forces down and protect the real history, two sword warriors, spirits who are swords brought to life by Saniwa (sage), rush to Edo. The polite and thoughtful Horikawa Kunihiro and the short tempered yet skillful Izuminokami Kanesada, who served the same master, confront the invading army along with a lively gang of other warriors including Mutsunokami Yoshiyuki, Yagen Toushirou, Tombokiri, and Tsurumaru Kuninaga. As the fate of history lies in these hero’s hands, what meets the blade is yet to be uncovered…

Cancer: Hajimete no Gal

Spring. The “season of love” has arrived and it seems that finding himself a girlfriend was harder than Junichi believed. To break the status quo, Junichi’s friends have forced him into confessing to the gal, Yame Yukana. However, things do not go quite as he expected. A series of “firsts” begins!

Leo: Fate/Apocrypha

The setting is a parallel world to Fate/stay night where the Greater Grail mysteriously disappeared from Fuyuki after the Third Holy Grail War. After many years of silence, around the same time as the Fifth Holy Grail War would have happened, the Yggdmillennia, a family of magi, openly declares their secession from the Mage’s Association, and that they are in possession of the Grail. The Association dispatches fifty magi to retrieve it, and all but one are instantly slaughtered by a mysterious Servant. The one remaining manages to activate the reserve system of the Greater Grail, allowing for the summoning of fourteen Servants in total. In the city of Trifas, two factions will fight for the control of the sacred relic, each of them possessing their own team of seven Servants : the Black Faction whose members are part of Yggdmillennia, protecting the Grail, and the Red Faction whose members were sent by the Mage’s Association, trying to take the Grail back. For an event of this scale, the Grail itself summons its own Servant, the holy Ruler, to oversee the conflict. This marks the start of the Great Holy Grail War.

Virgo: Jikan no Shihaisha

The story centers on “Chronos Rulers,” those who fight the time-eating demons that appear when people wish they could turn back time. The Chronos Rulers fight a time-manipulation battle against these demons. 

Libra: Knight’s & Magic

A mecha otaku is reincarnated into another world as Ernesti Echevarria, also known as Eru. In this world, huge humanoid weapons known as Silhouette Knights exist. Dreaming of piloting those robots, Eru and his friends, Archid Olter and Adeltrud Olter, aim to become Knight Runners.

Scorpio: NTR: Netsuzou Trap

Yuma and Hotaru have been friends since childhood, so it’s only natural that when Yuma is nervous about her new boyfriend, she asks Hotaru for advice. But when Hotaru starts coming onto Yuma for what feels like more than just ‘practice,’ what does it mean…? With boyfriends in the foreground but a secret, passionate tryst in the background, will Yuma and Hotaru try to forget what happened between them or have they fallen into a trap of true love and betrayal?

Sagittarius: Ballroom e Youkoso

Fujita has drifted through middle school aimlessly, unable to find friends or anything that can hold his attention. Then, one day, he’s attacked by a gang and saved by a mysterious man. But this isn’t a karate master; it’s a ballroom dance instructor! Reluctantly, Fujita takes a few beginner’s classes, only to find his inspiration… an entrancing, teenage dance prodigy named Shizuku. It’s Fujita’s first step into the high-octane world of competitive dance!

Capricorn: Hina Logi ~from Luck & Logic~

Liones Yelistratova, a pure princess from a small country, enters a school in Hokkaido on a spring day. The school is a specialized educational institution operated by ALCA to train Logicalists, who maintain world peace. Liones enters class S, where she meets many classmates with unique personalities, like Nina. A lively and cute everyday life begins now.

Aquarius: The Reflection Wave One

After THE REFLECTION, some of the people in all parts of the world are discovered with super powers. Some become heroes, and others villains. How did the Reflection happen? What was the cause of it? With many unsolved mysteries, the world is lead into turmoil.

Pisces: Gamers!

This is a story that revolves around certain students and one hobby. Amano Keita is our lonely protagonist who has a passion for gaming and is friends with Uehara Tasuku, who is secretly a fellow gamer and is someone who believes his life is perfect. We also have Karen Tendou, the club president of the video games club and Chiaki Hoshinomori, who constantly bickers with Keita. This is a story filled with a non-stop sequence of comedy scenes and misunderstandings. Our chaotic romantic comedy now begins!

[nightvideomecca]

It was a summer where lottery fever was all-consuming. Everyone wanted their lives to change and they all walked around with their golden ticket in their back pocket and their future dreams in blueprint form. While everyone was distracted with five lucky numbers Tatton Smiles was gazing at that outline of the mountains as one of the last summer sunsets concluded. He was considering his fate in life. He had smoked something called “Emerald Mist” earlier and it made his thoughts scatter like the dots of people below him. The summer carnival was on going and he would trade views of the mountain to viewing the spinning lights of the ferris wheel which sat perfectly in the mountain shadows. He was high above the commotion, on a hill, located somewhere in a fantasy.

He was dreaming of someone finding him alone with his baseball cap loosely covering his thick brunette hair while he was playfully chewing on his bottom lip. He was in a trance from the lights and circling thoughts of the previous hours and most importantly – his appeal. He didn’t know if he was desirable, no one told him. Who would he even ask? A smell of approaching rain was suspended in the windy air. His mind was elsewhere, looking for danger, finding only laughs of fair goers. He wanted someone; green eyes, rough voice, older for younger, someone from the movies, chiseled jaw, fresh haircut. He showered earlier, soap dripping from body, he imagined someone lost in his aroma. He was obsessed with finding unquestionable love. Fixated, he held himself with sloppy chimerical thoughts nightly. Imagined the figure of his desire lulling his name. He imagined a rough voice, whispering darkly “Tatton” which caused his spine to quiver and his eye to twitch. So distracted by his frenzy for a taste of love he forgot to heed the warnings that a serial killer was on the loose.

Frantic news reports flashed across television screens. A night stalker, killer, repulsive monster, pernicious mind. Warnings. Deadly touches, manipulating victims. Fatal decision to enter the dark. Stay indoors or you will die tonight. He had an ideal victim type and the killer quested nightly for the perfect prey. His victims were young usually between the ages of eighteen to twenty-one. Legal. Preying on the lost, preying on similar identities. Investigators would find the bodies with the shoulder blade missing. A devastated mother searched for her missing boy to no avail while her nightmares were amplified in the unknown. They found photographs of his victims. Two photos for each. One photograph being a close up of their upper body, no shirt, with their eyes closed while looking peaceful in overexposed lighting. They looked so comfortable that one could mistake them for being asleep, but they were dead. . The second picture would be the body. Ghastly shredded and now apart of one of those “true gore” websites. The cadaver was destroyed and mutilated beyond recognition. Authorities initiated a man hunt to end the massacre but the killer eluded apprehension.

Tatton, however, turned off all those cautionary reports to NOT go out tonight. High, overlooking the carnival below all he wanted was someone, someone like him, who felt like him, touched and hurt like him. It was worth the risk of death to try and find it tonight, or perhaps he was just clueless. He never really watched the news – ever. All he was concerned about was feeling electric tonight and beautiful. He was just that type of boy who could love anyone, no matter what they did. Another portrait of desperation. As he descended away from his viewing point he missed the looming eyes watching him from the shadows.

Wide open laughing mouths greeted anyone who entered the carnival. Psychotic sparkles of lights – up close, blinding, suffocating — sent Tatton’s focus blurry. Children played joyfully as Tatton watched from the gate, scanning the crowd for somebody, anybody, to be close to his body. His eyes strained on the children laughing. Their merry intrigued him. As if he knew an apocalypse was on the horizon he wondered his own youth and how he was losing each memory, all the time lost. Alone he walked past groups of endless people. Inhaling smoke from cigarettes freshly lit and covering his ears from the roar of the mechanical beasts that loomed over him. A soft “thank you” came from his lips as he purchased a vanilla ice cream cone. Walking to a peaceful spot he sat and enjoyed the coolness slide down his throat. He was in the perfect position to view everyone at the carnival other than the eyes who followed him there.

In the distance and in the shadows of a fast moving roller coaster standing in-between two purple gates stood the figure of a man. Rugged, muscled, soaked in mystery. Tatton noticed him almost immediately. He investigated the shape, the outline of a god he thought. Intrigued, satisfied, he stared into the darkness with pick me eyes. Hoping for a signal. The figure just stood there, menacing, teasing, inviting. Tatton’s eyes glowed. Heart stopped, staring. TRASH BLOWN BY THE WIND took his attention and startled his senses. He turned to see a glimpse of people laughing, at him? He turned back, gone. The figure was gone. Confused and alarmed he stood up dropping the vanilla cone into the dirt he was more interested in searching for the mysterious figure in the crowd. A loud thrash from a guitar sent his heart into a panic. He was there, it was him, the man of his dreams. He pursued the encounter.

Chaos, bodies of all types, dramas. Soundbites of life. Distortions. One time he thought he could hear demons screaming, scratching at his ears. He could see the back of his head, maybe, or was that someone else? A woman said hello in his direction, but was directing it toward someone she actually knew. Frustrating slow bodies and smells of strangers. Flashes of that man he saw earlier. Gulping in confusion Tatton continued through the forrest of sun burnt flesh. As he made his way through the crowd it seemed to get increasingly tighter, harder to maneuver. Murmurs from all directions. As he turned in circles he swore he saw flashes of his dream man at every direction, was he magic? Then, he lost him for an unwanted length of time. Panic ensued, did he find someone else? Feeling nauseous he attempted to escape from the hysteria. He managed to stumble out from the maddening lunacy and whimsically twirled around in the opening freedom. Isolated, a frown on his face for he had expected his mysterious counterpart to be there. Disappointed he wandered off.

Sometimes when you are alone your thoughts become the darkest and that was what was happening for Tatton. He heard a strange – slurping – noise in the distance somewhere, but didn’t think more of the sound as he drifted farther away from the carnival. The sound of screaming was lessening and the infections from the day were inflicting his mind stronger than before. Worries, stresses, pains, sometimes he was just the saddest boy you ever knew. At times he was just lost in thoughts of nothing, ignoring, hoping the bad thoughts wouldn’t return and suffocate his ability to enjoy life. He was worried about his family and himself. The pain they felt and that he felt. The memories they’ve lost and the memories he knew were gone forever. What did it explain about him? Social interactions and relationships bugged him too. Why was he alone? Never confident in his sexuality he always looked away when he caught someones eyes as he couldn’t believe that they would want to be looking at him. He wiggled off the thoughts for a second and tried to snap out of his depression by convincing himself he was over reacting. Often that is what everyone does.

Tatton continued walking trapped in his puzzled floating mind when he knew someone else was there. In the distance, illuminated in a street light and barely was the man from his dreams, no the fair, that’s right. He was losing his head. The stranger’s face was covered by a shadow, he could be anyone, anything. For the first time Tatton wondered if he was in danger. He continued walking, the man did not move from his circle of light. Shoes kicking gravel from the trail, slight breathing and heartbeats were the only sounds. Tatton got closer. Then, from the shadows came a rough that said “Hi” flirtatiously . Tatton caught off guard doesn’t respond and nodded his head as he walked past. “I saw you looking at me” the voice seemed to float through the air and land perfectly in Tatton’s ears. Tatton stopped and turned around with a sour face. “I’m sorry” which was answered by a “Don’t Be”.

Smell of blood. Tatton staring in wonderment. Toothy grin that a tongue rolls over in the darkness. Green eyes that glowed like an animals, his moan sounded like a growl from a beast. Later, their arms would be tangled, maybe, if it all went right. . Tatton was confused, shocked, lost in black forests he had never visited. Fantasy was becoming reality, blurring a line that made him itchy. He frantically wondered why he ever wished for this. At times we all shouted at stars about our wildest dreams that captivated us into knowing there was more out there, more for us, never ending. The chance for change and hope that this current state is not the end. Never considering of what we could lose by wishing for a perfect future. Innocence. Visitors from our past, locked out of the current. Times lost in the hardware shift. Did anyone ever really find love that would last forever? We never thought about suffering for that moment. This moment. Now, all too real was actually happening. It was dangerous, strangers meeting, in the dark, secluded. Nobody knows about me and you. Hair raising. Tatton blurted out nervously “You look strong, I thought you could protect me”. The stranger couldn’t help but grin. Charmed the stranger said “From him? Right? The Night – What is it now? Stalker, Monster, Killer. How do you know it is not me?”

Then from somewhere deeper in the darkness came a revolting masculine gargled scream. Pulsating pain, viciously tearing apart the atmosphere. The sound was so conveniently close and placed at a coincidental time that both parties wondered their place in the universe. Tatton’s eyes were feverish, curious, laughing with sudden fear. Tatton screamed out “HELLO” frantically in hopes to help. “I don’t think you should do that” was whispered by the stranger who was also staring into the night with an unsure glance, curled lip, confusion and anguish.. More silence. Darkness. Sitting like a duck. Tatton went into a frenzy with his body nervously convulsing, he didn’t want to die. He quipped out “I just turned eighteen” like a frightened child he turned to the much older stranger with watery eyes. The Stranger grasped Tatton’s shoulder calmly and nodded with understanding as he didn’t want to die either. Branches breaking in the distance, sound of running, stomping. Skin crawling muffled pleas. A creaking. Then nothing. Horrible nothing. The two strangers stood alone true identities revealed listening for any explanation. The Stranger gulped as Tatton whimpered. “Let’s go” was uttered and both agreed to do just that.

The stranger in the dark had a tattoo of a heart with no name locked in chains imprinted on his upper bicep near the shoulder. Out of the darkness the stranger was revealed to be a real person, not a killer, not the monster or a one time sexual endeavor. Benjamin. Soft face, grinning mouth. Wit for days, flirting and charming nature. Protective. Forest eyes that blinked appreciative kindness. With a cracked tooth on number 29. The two spent the night together. A long night that seemed to last for eternity, doing silly things, holding hands at one point, swinging emotions. Buying candies and balloons. Shared cigarettes and a joint under the bridge. Still inviting danger. Slow down the night, make it remain is what they were wishing. They were laughing, enjoying, embracing, looking, smiling. At each other. Finding that connection is so rare. Even it didn’t go anywhere, they would always have this one night.

They shared a sloppy kiss at midnight. It didn’t last long before fireworks blasted into the black sky separating their joining. They both mused that the fireworks were for them, their meeting. They clutched each others backs and were holding harder with each escaping boom. They both melted when their eyes returned, both enjoyed the familiar. We all look for ourselves at times, unknowingly. After the kiss, after that moment of connecting, their thoughts drifted to the end because thats where thoughts always go when things feel good. None of us can enjoy anything. We are all dedicated to foreseeing futures without hope, without taking that chance. Losing that stranger in the dark. Imaginations go from happiness to dread real quick. We tighten the belt ourselves as we waste away without really ever getting what we wanted. Perhaps we only deserve a second, a second to feel so beautiful.

Although their joining united two souls who needed one another in fantasy they were in different places in reality. Both knew that beyond this night their relationship might not look good. Missed calls and reluctant goodbyes. Weeks, months, minutes spent apart. Increasingly their thoughts went from excitement to worry as they knew the night eventually would produce an end. That they wouldn’t spend forever together. Forever would end tonight.

At times they would look off into the distance, lost, sad, scared. Remembering the scream in the night. Wondering who it belonged to and who made them hurt. Speculating if the other could protect them in a time of crisis. Morbid thoughts filtered both of their minds of death and when the time would come; by the hands of nature, luck or man. They would both rejoice in the idea that the scream brought them together in a pure way. That it was meant to be, written in the books. Beyond the land of sexual fantasy. This was all supposed to happen. Only one would admit it though. The night was a blur and they were saying goodbye before they wanted.

Benjamin took Tatton home. They were silent as they zig-zagged through empty morning streets. They both questioned out loud the idea of seeing each other again which was responded by silent baiting. Staring. Hoping the other would take the lead. They stood outside of Tatton’s parents home for quite awhile. They were joking and giggling possibly out of sleep deprivation. Tatton saw the circles beneath Benjamin’s eyes and appreciated the night they had wasted. Benjamin played with Tatton’s messy greasy hair and stated that he should get some sleep. “You too” Tatton alluringly whispered. They both wanted to run away on the utterance of the goodbye, to forget it all, to be consumed with each others being. Yet, they were pulled away. Promises. Neither could know that this would be the last moment together. Perhaps it kept both of them alive with hope much like we all keep wishing, hoping.

Tatton entered his home in the early morning just before six a.m. He had to sneak past his parents bedroom to get to his room. With their door creaked open and his shoes carefully placed at the front he maneuvered himself to his bedroom. Through his blinds he paced awkwardly in his room, confused and lost he was wanting to chase after those moments that felt so good. He laid down, staring at the ceiling imaging him and the events that surrounded him. Future with him. Future smiles and glances. He couldn’t help but burst out laughing with a smile of disbelief . Did that all really happen? Just like the movies he mused. He screamed into his pillow and tried his hardest to fall asleep. He fell asleep and dreamed chaotic flashes of dreams.

It was as if he hadn’t fallen asleep though as the doorbell rang exactly two hours after he laid down. Unfairly ripping him away from the comfort of pillows and blankets. It rang once, sending stomach churning echos through the house. It sent Tatton’s eyes open in panic, confusion. Was it Benjamin? Running through the house he heard the rustling of his parents from their bedroom. Who could that be? He made it to the door first. He opened it to reveal…..a strangely constructed cardboard box with soaked sides. His face drooped with curiosity. The box had to have been freshly dropped. He curiously peeked around the neighborhood but there was no signs of anybody. It was a present. He kneeled down and lifted the note that was taped to the top of the box. The note revealed a blood stain which made him instantly repulsed with dread. He opened the note and mouthed the words on paper.

“Hello. I saw you. Last night. Sorry I had to kill your boyfriend. But I saw you first. Not in the park, but earlier. On that hill. What were you thinking about? I wanted you then but you moved too quick and then I couldn’t find you. Oh how afraid I was that I would lose you, perfect angel. Then you were with him. All night. It made me sick, I wanted to be HIM. I will forgive you because I want you and I want to love you forever. I dreamed you. You are my type even more than the others. And I want your heart to be mine forever. Don’t tell mom.”

Tatton would then open the box to a gruesome discovery. For inside the box was the severed left shoulder of someone: “his boyfriend”. Ripped away from the body, mounds of bright red flesh exposed, dripping blood still. Filleted muscles, peeled skin. He knew it was Benjamin’s – the stranger, the dream man– because of the tattoo of the heart without a name which seemed to glow in front of Tatton’s eyes mocking his desire for love in the morning sun.

[thesuperhero-sessions]

The Superhero Sessions - Chapter 14

Coffee Shop Soundtrack

Sedona’s life had gotten back to the grind but an unexpected guest changes things.

*Author’s note:  Hey everyone! So, the last installment was in October - let’s consider that a mid-season hiatus while the network and producers decided if the show would be canceled or not. Well, thanks to THIS FUCKING PHOTO OH AND ALSO THIS ONE my muse came back long enough for me to take 30 min and write up this chapter. I really want to rename these as episodes because I’ve been viewing this as season one pretty much all along. I don’t owe any one an explanation, but basically the following 3 things happened that killed my muse: Tr*mp. Falling head over heels for one Mr. Sebastian Stan. Getting busy with work and kinda just forgetting how to be creative for a while. I don’t know if/when the next chapter will be posted, but here’s this. xoxo

Also, i titled this after i wrote it, but the song linked in the title kinda inspired said title

Tag list: If you’d like to be included, please follow and message me :)

@always-an-evans-addict @lillianfromaccounting

@ariallane @theycallmebecca @emilyevanston @thelookingglassalice @ss-buckybarnes @rogersxbarnesx @mewsiex @welp-heregoessomething @heather-lynn @alievans007 @mculove1 @knittingknerdy @toc1985

Triggers: None 

Word Count 1560

Masterlist

The light trickled in through the slats on the blinds, and Sedona winced, rolling over to try to stay asleep. She cuddled up against something warm and hard, her nails scraping gently over flesh as she breathed in the scent of mocha and leather. She felt her body pulled flush against the other and nuzzled her face into the broad chest.

“I feel you stirring.” The honey-coated voice spoke out, starting to pull her from her dreams.

“Mmmm not yet. Five more minutes. I don’t have class or work today. Please. Just let me.”

A finger ran up and down her shoulder blade. With all the use and manual labor, his hands should’ve been rougher, but his body would just rebuild. They were softer than silk. Sedona opened her eyes to come face to face with his chest, her fingers  finding the freckles on his pale skin to trace constellations. He laughed - a deep rumbling in his chest. “That tickles.”

Sedona’s chin was lifted to look at the man in her bed. A thick but well maintained beard speckled with hints of auburn in the sunlight. His hair had grown out more, and was now a rich mahogany. But those eyes were still the same. A pale turquoise sparkling like the ocean, yes, with hints of green. Those green flecks that she’d come to memorize. “What happened to five more minutes?” The man asked, his plump lips falling into a lopsided smirk, his brows arched as he regarded her.

Her body felt warm and tingly and soon she realized that there was a satisfying ache between her thighs. A welcome reminder of the night’s events, only fading to have a new desire take it’s place. “Maybe those five minutes are better suited doing something else.”

Steve smirked. “Five minutes? Since when has it ever been only five minutes.” He rolled them over and lowered his lips to her ear. “Babe, you’re not leaving this bed today.”

Sedona jostled awake as her alarm went off, which she promptly shut off. Another was set for 40 minutes from now. He groaned and nearly sobbed for a moment that the bliss was all just a dream. Again. They’d gotten more frequent over the recent months,and what frightened her most was that it wasn’t just simple sex dreams. It was cuddly morning afters. Simple dinners. Grocery shopping. Okay, well, the grocery shopping one involved a unicorn on roller blades and an alligator wearing a hat and trenchcoat trying to sell them insurance for a rocket ship...but other than that it was completely normal.

Months had passed since her trip to Clint’s farm, and she got lost in her rigorous classwork. Sam would touch base with her, especially since she started running the meetings for him. He wanted to be kept in the loop with those he’d been helping. Tony dropped by her apartment unannounced on more than one occasion, and she thanked the gods of every religion that she was always walking in on him  sitting on her couch rather than him walking in on her hanging out in just her underwear. He’d tried to give her an apartment in the city, but she kept telling him no, that it didn’t feel right. Tony finally stopped but the following month she’d found her tuition and student loans to all be paid off. She was frustrated, but couldn’t be mad at him. He was throwing money at...well, not at his problems, but at his lack of them? Pepper still hadn’t taken him back, he missed his friends, and he still hated the government. He had problems - real world ones - and the were harder to solve than aliens, gods, and sentient robots combined.

But it was the day that Steve showed back up in her life that had floored her. She was locking up her office when she spotted a tall, handsome, and vaguely familiar man speaking with someone, who pointed her way. When he smiled and gave an awkward wave, her knees felt like they were going to buckle under her. His hair was a dark brown, as was his full beard.

“Steve! Hey!” She made her way over to him and into his welcome arms. He gave her a squeeze and pulled back enough to look at her.

“No, um, it’s Grant.” he said, nodding with a serious face that dissolved into a smile. “Do you wanna grab some coffee? Catch up? I’ve been doing some soul searching since you left...and I could really use someone to talk to.”

“Is everything alright?” Her face flashed from elation to worry in a millisecond.

“No, no, everything and everyone are fine.” He said, letting his hands hold her shoulders as though she’d drop at any moment. Relief washed over her and she nodded, letting him lead the way.

“So, what are you doing back in New York? Can’t possibly be just for little ol’ me.” Sedona teased.

They sat with their drinks and his eyes twinkled. “And why not? Are you not worth of someone making a trip to see you?”

She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks, and took a sip of her still too hot chocolate to mask it.

“No, I did come out here to start seeing you again. I think you could really help me out. All of us. I just have this knot in my stomach that things won’t be peaceful for long...and I’d really like to have my head on straight for once in my life.  I know you can’t fix me overnight, but I’m willing to start. I’ve never run from a fight, so now I should probably start battling my demons, huh.”

Sedona was a little disheartened that it was basically just a patient visit, but she was still pleased. “I’m surprised no one’s recognized you out here, Grant. Pretty brave risking getting caught.”

He just laughed. “No one has any idea.” He shook his head. “I kinda like it, though. For the first time since I strapped on those tights...I get to just be me.” He stroked his beard. “To risk a pun, this is really growing on me.”

His good mood was infectious. This wasn’t the man she met a few months ago, nor the one she’d studied for so long. She realized how creepy that actually was and knew in that moment she’d never be able to have a relationship with him. Obviously he was a patient and that was illegal, but how do you tell someone you’ve practically obsessed over them since you were a toddler? She shook the thought out of her mind as he mentioned having a gift for her.

“Ste-Grant...you shouldn’t have, really.” He produced a folded piece of paper and slid it over to her.

“I’ve started drawing again. I forgot how much I loved it - and not just doodles, full portraits and scenes. I’ve started to use it to help process my emotions. There was this one that I drew back during the war, a monkey on a -”

“unicycle...I’ve seen it. Tony has it in his office.”

“He does?” Steve paused, looking thoughtful, shaking his head with a light laugh. “Well, go on, look at it.”

She unfolded it and it was a photographically rendered portrait of a woman. Her back was to the viewer and she was practicing archery. It was drawn from midback up, and only a quarter of her face could be seen. Even with the rest hidden, it was clear she had a determined gaze and furrowed brow. She almost looked pissed, but was drawn with such care to make her still look beautiful. The piece was signed, dated, and titled Artemis.

“Is this…?” She furrowed her own brow, looking at it in greater detail, looking up to her companion.

“Yeah, that’s you. From when you were shooting with Clint. I saw you look over after we’d laughed and the expression on your face...You looked like a hunter about to destroy their prey. It was captivating. And...I just want you to know that us laughing had nothing to do with your archery.” He waved his hands across the table, gesturing as he spoke.

“This is….I can’t even...words.” She laughed. “This is amazing. No one’s ever given me something like this before. Thank you. I’m going to get it framed.” Sedona reached forward to give his hand a squeeze.

A woman with long wavy blonde hair had entered the cafe and took her sunglasses off as she looked around. She approached their table and smiled, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder as she said hi to Sedona.

“Hey!” Steve stood and melted his body against the woman, kissing her cheek. The woman looked to be under 30, but had a hard demeanor. She’s seen some shit in her life and had to toughen up. But the way she smiled back at Steve showed she was kind behind it all. A strong and confident woman, like the rest in the Captain’s life, she reached a hand across the table to Sedona in a firm handshake.

“You must be Sedona.” For once, her name was used instead of qualifiers or job descriptions. “Steve’s told me all about  you.” She rested her hand on his thick pectoral. “I’m Sharon, it’s great to finally meet you.”

[emeraldthoughtsblog]

Code Geass: A Tale of Two Demons. CH5: The Man in Control

Chapter five of A Tale of Two Demons. The Battle of Shinjuku Ghetto is about to take place, and all parties involved will soon be face to face.

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Lelouch, a Britannian youth who was given the power of geass seven years ago, has just made his first move against his homeland of Britannia. His goal is to find out who killed his mother and to create a better world for his sister, Nunnally. His actions will change everything as the world will be thrown into chaos. As time goes on, he will need to gain allies in order to bring down the empire of Britannia and rid Japan of its corruption.

Suzaku, a Japanese youth who was also given the power of geass, has just encountered a masked Lelouch, and later meets Princess Euphemia li Britannia. The time will come for Suzaku to make a choice that could ruin his relationships among friends and family.

In the subway tunnel to Shinjuku, Lelouch sees a group of people approaching him. “Now, who the hell are you?” Tamaki says as he and the others see the masked figure in their way.

“My name is of no importance to you.” Lelouch replies. “All you need to know is that I am a person who detests their own country.” He adds.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Tamaki says, getting flustered.

“What it means, is that I am the most wanted man alive.” He replies. ‘Crap, there’s too many of them to deal with, but it seems like this guy is the only one wanting to pick a fight.’ Lelouch mentally says, seeing that the red haired guy in front of him is the only one getting agressive.

“We’re all wanted, one way or another.” Ohgi says.

“I’ve had enough of you, punk!” Tamaki says, angrily. “I say we beat this guy to a pulp. Maybe there’s a reward for him.” He adds, turning to face the masked man. He then rushes towards Lelouch, who doesn’t flinch until Tamaki is real close to him.

Lelouch ducks and kicks Tamaki’s foot, sending falling to the ground. Before Tamaki can get back up, Lelouch places his foot right between Tamaki’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the ground. “All I seek is a place to lay low.” Lelouch says, getting close to Tamaki. “The Britannians will most likely be after me, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” He adds, getting up.

“I’ll take you to our hideout.” Ohgi says. “Just let Tamaki go, and I’ll lead the way.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Lelouch says, moving away from Tamaki, who then gets back to his feet.

“Ohgi, are you really going to take this guy, who we don’t even know, to our base.” Tamaki says. “What do you think Naoto’s going to say when he learns of this.”

‘Naoto? Kallen’s brother’s part of this?’ Lelouch mentally says once he hears Naoto’s name being said.

“Naoto would do the same, Tamaki.” Ohgi replies. “Although I don’t like the fact that Britannia is after you, I’ll offer shelter for the time being.” He says to the masked man. “The rest of you head back to base.” He says to the others. When the others leave the tunnel, Ohgi signals for the cloaked man to follow him.

In the lower levels of the embassy, Jeremiah and the Purebloods are preparing to assault one of the ghettos. “Shinjuku Ghetto is the closest of the ghettos to the embassy, and that will be our first move.” Jeremiah says as he informs the Purebloods.

“Lord Jeremiah, shall we contact Bartley and have his forces surround the ghetto.” One of the Pureblood lords says.

“Do that, Kewell. Once we are all in position, prepare to destroy the ghetto.” Jeremiah replies. “We will avenge Clovis’s death.” He adds. When the Purebloods leave the room, Jeremiah heads towards his purple and red Sutherland knightmare frame.

“Getting the Britannian military involved in a Japanese conflict, my someone had to have done something wrong.” A person says from behind Jeremiah. Jeremiah turns around and sees a tall man with violet hair, dressed in a long, white lab coat.

“What does the Special Corps want, Earl Asplund?” Jeremiah says, upon seeing the bespectacled man.

“We have developed a new knightmare model, and we want it to be tested. But with the lack of Britannian involvement here, we were about to pack up and head to the front lines with Cornelia.” The Earl replies.

“I don’t have time to test a new knightmare, Lloyd. My Sutherland will suffice for the time being.” Jeremiah replies, turning around and heading for his Sutherland.

“Well, Cecile, looks like we might have to have Cornelia test Lancelot.” Lloyd says as a dark blue haired woman dressed in an orange uniform approaches.

“I’ll prepare to have Lancelot sent to the airport, and we’ll leave as soon as possible.” Cecile replies.

Naoto reaches his home, the Stadtfeld Manor, and heads for the main door. Once he enters the house, he is greeted by a maid of Japanese descent. “Welcome home, my lord.” The maid greets Naoto.

“Mother, you know you don’t have to be doing this.” Naoto replies, not pleased that his mother has become a maid for the Stadtfeld family.

“There’s nothing wrong with what I’ve chosen to do with my life. However the Mistress isn’t too happy that I have chosen to stay.” Ms. Kozuki says.

“So you’ve decided to come home, boy.” Ms. Stadtfeld says, as she appears from the second floor. “There’s someone on the phone who wants to talk with you.” She says, returning to the second floor.

“Who would call me here?” Naoto asks, he then checks his pockets and discovers that he left his cell in Shinjuku.

“It’s the lieutenant colonel, Naoto.” Ms. Kozuki replies. She then returns to her duties of caring for the manor. Naoto then heads up the stairs and into the lounge. Before he picks up the phone, he hears the sounds of footsteps approaching him.

“Naoto, you came home.” Kallen says, excited to see her older brother. She then rushes towards him and hugs him.

“I missed you too, Kallen.” Naoto replies, hugging his younger sister. He then breaks apart from Kallen and looks into her eyes. “So, how’s school going?” He asks.

“Life on the student council is interesting as always. Martial arts is proving to be easy. I’ve been worried about you for the past few days, Naoto, but I’m still top in my classes.” Kallen replies.

“Martial arts? That’s a club at Ashford?” Naoto asks. “Who’s the head of the club?” He asks, curiously.

“The Prime Minister’s son, Suzaku Kururugi.” Kallen replies. “His cousin, Kaguya is in the club as well.” She adds.

“Well, I’ve got a call to take, Kallen. I’ll see you around.” He says, heading to the phone. Kallen leaves the lounge and heads back to her room, as Naoto takes the phone. “Stadtfeld residence, this is Naoto speaking.” Naoto says.

“Kozuki, this is Lieutenant Colonel Tohdoh. We have a situation that you and your rebels can take care of.” Tohdoh says over the phone.

Naoto looks around the room and sees that no one is nearby. “How did you know, Colonel?” Naoto whispers.

“It wasn’t that hard to deduce, Naoto. I too wish to see Japan change for the better, but I am loyal to Kururugi to the end.” Tohdoh replies.

“Do the others know?” Naoto asks, with concern in his voice.

“If you mean the Four Holy Swords, then no. If you meant you squad, we informed them as they returned to base.” Tohdoh replies.

“Then what is it that we have to do?” Naoto asks.

“Return to base and I’ll give you the details of your task.” Tohdoh replies. Naoto then hears the dial tone as Tohdoh hangs up. After he hangs up the phone, Naoto then prepares to head out.

“Ambassador.” Euphemia says in surprise. “I’ll at least be acting ambassador until my sister arrives.” She adds. “Suzaku Kururugi, would you mind escorting me to the embassy.” She says, extending her hand. Suzaku looks away from euphemia, thinking about what to do next.

“I owe it to Lelouch and Nunnally to see you return safely.” Suzaku says, reaching a decision. “I’ll gladly take you to the embassy, milady.” He says, facing Euphy and taking her hand. They then leave the storage room and prepare to depart for the Britannian embassy.

“Suzaku, would you mind showing me the city. This might be the only time I get to see it as it is.” Euphy asks as they reach the base of the stairs.

“Your wish is my command, milady.” Suzaku replies, bowing to Euphy. They then begin their long walk back to the embassy, with Suzaku leading the way and showing Euphy all the sights of the Settlement. Euphy’s guards are keeping an eye on the two as the walk through the city. As Suzaku and Euphy stroll through the city taking in the sights, window shopping, and eating street food, Euphy then sees a stray cat. Suzaku hears Euphy meow, and turns to see her in front of a little black cat, its left paw above the ground in pain.

“Oh, does the kitty’s paw hurt?” Euphy says, meowing again. She then moves her hand close to the cat, and it nuzzles against her fingers. Suzaku approaches, chuckling a little at the sight before him. Euphy then picks up the cat and shows it to Suzaku. He then moves his hand in front of the cat, who then hisses and bites Suzaku’s index finger. “Oh my.” Euphy says, shocked at what has just happened. They then find a place to sit and Euphy bandages the cat’s paw. “Do you have trouble with cats?” She asks Suzaku.

“I like them fine. However…” Suzaku says, moving his hand close to the cat again. The cat hisses and Suzaku backs off. “The attraction isn’t mutual.” He finishes. The cat then jumps and runs off, away from Suzaku and Euphy.

“Oh, the kitty ran away.” Euphy says, saddened that the cat ran off.

“We’re not that far from the embassy, Euphy.” Suzaku says, getting up.

“Alright, lead the way.” Euphy says, getting up as well. As they approach the Britannian embassy, they hear the sound of knightmare land rollers squealing. Looking around, they see all of the stationed knightmares leaving the embassy.

“What’s going on here?” Suzaku asks.

“I’m not sure, but there has to be a reason for this. Come on, Suzaku.” Euphy says, dragging him with her, into the embassy. Once inside, the embassy staff see the princess enter the building and bow to her. “Why have the Purists left in their knightmares?” Euphy asks.

“They are heading to Shinjuku to take care of the nearby terrorists.” One of the staff members replies.

“Terrorists? I thought the Japanese had them under control.” Euphy says. “You think that Clovis’s assassin is a terrorist?” She asks.

“Pray tell, how do you know about what has just happened today?” Lloyd asks as he enters the lobby.

“I… uh.” Euphy starts, not quite knowing what to say.

“I told her.” Suzaku says.

“Interesting.” Lloyd says, looking at Suzaku. “You’re the son of the Prime Minister, yes?” He asks.

“I am.” Suzaku replies.

“With Princess Euphemia here, Cornelia should be here soon. Am I right, princess?” Lloyd asks, looking at Euphy.

“You are correct. However, I can’t give a time of arrival.” Euphy replies.

“I see.” Lloyd says. He then looks back at Suzaku. “Do you have any experience in piloting a knightmare?” He asks him.

“Britannians would never make the Japanese knights.” Suzaku replies, shocked at the offer.

“Well, assuming you could.” Lloyd says, holding up a knightmare activation key. “Besides, it’s data I’m after. We need this knightmare field tested.” Lloyd adds.

At the Japanese base in Tokyo, Naoto arrives and is greeted by his squad and the Lieutenant Colonel. “Glad you could make it, Kozuki. Your mission is to evacuate Shinjuku Ghetto of civilians, and to aid the Britannians in their goal of ridding the ghetto of terrorists.” Tohdoh says.

“Aid the Britannians, are you crazy.” Tamaki says. He then looks away when the others are glaring at him.

“Kyoto wants you to test their newest model of knightmare as well. The Burai knightmare frames.” Tohdoh says.

“New knightmares. Let’s hope that they’re better than our current Glasgows.” Naoto says. He and the others follow Tohdoh until they arrive at the knightmare hangar and see several dark colored knightmares, one with a samurai mask design.

“These are your new knightmares.” Tohdoh says, indicating the group of knightmares in front of them.

“Alright guys, let’s save the people of Shinjuku.” Naoto says, as he goes to the more colorful of the Burai. When they have all entered the knightmares, they power them up and prepare to head out to the ghetto.

“You are to aid the Britannians when you can.” Tohdoh says, over the communications.

“Understood, Tohdoh.” Naoto, and the others reply. They then change their communication frequency to their own. “We get everyone out of Shinjuku, even the other resistance groups.” Naoto says.

“Got it, boss.” The others reply.

In Shinjuku Ghetto, Ohgi has lead Lelouch to their hideout. “Well this is our home away from home.” Ohgi says. He then sees the masked man looking around the base.

“It’s as I thought. Terrorists.” Lelouch says. “A civil war won’t end Japan’s corruption.” He adds, figuring out what it is that they are planning. He then hears the sound of a gun being cocked. He turns around and sees Ohgi pointing a Japanese model handgun at him. “Go ahead, shoot. You’ll pay the price later on.” Lelouch says, unfazed.

“What do you mean by that.” Ohgi says, keeping the gun pointed at the masked man.

“I am your only hope against Britannia.” Lelouch replies. “Kill me now, and Britannia will make Japan an Area of the empire. You will lose your identity as Japanese, and become a number. Do you really want that?” Lelouch says. He sees that Ohgi is still pointing the gun at him, but hasn’t fired yet. “I see. So you understand, those who should kill are those who are prepared to be killed.” He adds. Lelouch then sees Ohgi lower the gun.

“Hey, Ohgi! You there!” A voice says over a radio. Ohgi then grabs the radio.

“Yeah, I’m here, Tamaki.” Ohgi replies.

“Good, the Britannians haven’t found you yet.” Naoto says.

“The Britannians are in Shinjuku?” Ohgi asks. He then sees the masked man look in his direction.

“Yeah, and by the looks of things, they’re going to surround the ghetto. We need to get everyone out of Shinjuku.” Naoto replies. “Ohgi, get the other groups to help fight back.” He adds. Before Ohgi can respond, Lelouch takes the radio.

“Listen closely. Once you are all in position, follow my orders and you will win.” Lelouch says over the radio.

“Now who is this, and how did you get access to our base.” Naoto asks.

“Are you not afraid that these transmissions are being intercepted as we speak.” Lelouch asks. “I see we understand each other.” Lelouch says after a pause of silence.

“What do we need to do?” Naoto asks.

“Knightmares. You got here quickly, so what model are you using?” Lelouch asks.

“Burai, a modified Glasgow.” Naoto replies.

“Your enemy has Sutherlands, they'll outmatch your Glasgows.” Lelouch says. He then hears the sound of gunfire near the base.

“They found us!” Ohgi shouts.

“You, get out of here. We will need the other groups to aid us in this battle.” Lelouch says, calmly.

“Right. Do you really expect to win against a knightmare?” Ohgi asks as he prepares to flee.

“I have my ways. Now get out of here. This victory might just revolve around you escaping.” Lelouch says. Once Ohgi leaves the base, Lelouch changes out of his black and purple outfit and back into his dark clothes and red jacket. He then sees a phone on one of the tables present and takes it, just before the wall in front of him and part of the ceiling collapses. As the wall collapses, Lelouch takes cover and sees that his case is covered enough so that only he can see it.