#he was one of five people alive at the time - it's not like Angel Radio was clogged up or anything. Somebody up top must've heard him

[chiss-ticism]

Absolutely buck-fucking-wild to me is it that the murder of Abel, ethics aside of being the first to discover such a thing is even possible aside, is the catalyst for sin in general, and not just, like, murder being a thing people can do now. The punishments levied upon him (and his descendants :[ ) were definitely harsh, sure, but I'm 100% surprised that they weren't worse all things considered. Especially with the raw deal that Lilith ended up getting when she did something Big G didn't like.

Here's two chunks of text from the Demon: The Fallen Sourcebook, Houses of the Fallen, for those unfamiliar:

The calm, measured war of the angels and demons ended suddenly and terribly when Caine slew his brother Abel. The shockwaves of this event ripped through Creation, opening the souls of both mortals and demons to the possibilities of violence, excess and hatred. Some of the Namaru, especially those closest to Lucifer, were able to resist the temptation of sin and stay pure. Many more saw the opportunities offered by atrocity and sin and embraced the darkness wholeheartedly...

and:

Although humanity's mortality was imposed at the moment of the rebellion, it was some time before the rebels felt the impact of that curse. The watchfulness of the fallen angels helped keep accidents from becoming fatal and the early stages of the war were fought in ritual and structure between angels and not humanity. The Slayers knew that this escape from death's touch would not last, though, because they could sense humanity starting to grow old. Before the rebellions, humans aged until they reached maturity, and then they simply stopped developing in adulthood. They grew no older and thus had very little concept of old age. Still, the prospect of immediately ushering humanity into the world of death had receded. It was decades before the effects of aging became apparent. Humanity was aging slowly, far more slowly than modern man does.

That changed in a single moment of anger. Caine, son of the first man, raised his fist in anger and slew his brother. Abel's spirit passed through into the world of death, but any attempts to reach it were thwarted by a sudden storm that erupted in shadow of the world, carrying Abel's spirit away before Slayer or Loyal Reaper could interfere.

The storm changed everything. It changed the world of death, but the Slayers would not discover quite how much for some time yet. It changed the hearts of men, who turned on each other with anger, jealously, and most of all, brutality. Animals in the wild killed each other through necessity, to eat or to defend themselves. Through awakening humanity, the angels had also given mankind the ability to kill because they wanted to. In the centuries that followed, some Slayers speculated that the storm was nothing more than a manifestation of that change in humanity in other aspects of reality. Others dismissed the idea, saying that it made mankind too significant in Creation: The angels were the shapers of reality, not the humans. Whatever the cause was, there was no questioning the changes in the angels themselves after the storm broke. Where once their skirmishes had been more like philosophical debates conducted on multiple layers of reality simultaneously, their battles became desperate struggles for existence. The Time of Atrocities had begun.

(HoTF, p. 173)

Also notable is it that DtF frames Caine's decision to kill Abel as a moment of fetid rage - an act of passion, without much forethought into why he did what he did. ("a single moment of anger") Whereas Caine himself, (allegedly, mind, if we're to believe that The Chronicle of Caine is actually from his direct point of view), frames it as an epiphany of sorts. A premeditated act of sacrifice, for that's what Adam asked him to provide - one that he committed with a heavy heart.

Then one day

our Father said to us,

Caine, Abel

to Him Above you must make a sacrifice -

a gift of the first part

of all that you have

(The Book of Nod, p. 21)

He'd prayed for a whole day and night, having gone to bed previously with his eyes wet with tears and mind racing for some sort of reprieve from its anguish, and came to a realization on his own, as his prayers deliberately weren't answered.

The Oracles watched in horrified fascination as Caine killed his brother and created a new, poisonous set of concepts that would ultimately infect man and angel alike. The Oracles' first instinct was to bend all their efforts to preventing such a terrible act, but the lessons recently learned during the lunar raid gave them pause. Would it be worth it to allow the First Murder to occur if it led to a final triumph over the Holy Host? The idea tantalized them. This would be their first attempt to consciously alter the universe according to their will rather than God's, and in the end, the allure of that fact overcame their moral reservations. The storm approached, and the Neberu did nothing, believed that they were about to forever turn the tide of the war in the rebels' favor. (Houses of the Fallen, p. 102)

Despite offering up the brightest fruits and sweetest grasses, it wasn't enough - and likely never would be for he could never truly love the plants that he grew - not to the level that Abel reached with his animals whose births he aided in, those who he nourished and watched grow. So he offered up the only thing he possibly could, for only one thing did he love with his whole heart: his brother. An act of sacrifice with reverberations on a cosmic scale.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN

[technicallymaximumkitty]

Sir Pentious headcanons because I am cringe but I am free

fair warning this is gonna be long because the autism is peak RN and i am increasingly sleep deprived, ENJOY!!!

He is half indian half british

Was white passing and his face was covered in moles and birthmarks 

He was an orphan boy who worked in a textile mill as a kid

He got out of the textile life when a mechanic was looking for a new apprentice. Sir Pentious wasn't the first choice but runner up, and willing to do anything, he shoved the kid that was gonna be chosen into a machine that ripped their hands off. The kid being unable to work anymore, Sir Pentious was chosen.

As a teenager he was drafted into the army, he was never unable to climb ranks 

He died from lead poisoning (that’s why he is a poisonous snake, get it? Poisonous? Lead poisoning? I’ll see myself out) 

Sir pentious wasn't a sir in life, he only got that title in hell

All his shirts are button ups because he cant fit anything over his frill 

The egg bois are basically furbys 

All the egg bois do have names, given to them when they were first invented, but they never get called by their names. They barely remember because they have the memory of a worm 

Sir Pentious makes food hate crimes, not on purpose but still

The first time Alastor made jambalaya Sir Pentious started crying because the air was too spicy for him

Yes he has the worst pallet in the world (i mean ofc he’s british/j) 

This dude will be happy just eating bread from the bag for dinner

He was never married in life 

I know the son was a throw away line, but like what if? He had one? Out of wedlock?

MF is so old fashioned about romance 

He has autism because i said so

User vobomon has the theory that Sir Pentious has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, i agree

When he sheds (it’s biannually) he hides for like a few weeks until everything grows back (the scales on the ends of his frill are the first to fall out and take the longest to grow in) 

He’s not inept at slang but he knowledge dose stop at 2007

Angel tried to pull an updog with Pentious but it failed and Angel was about ready to strangle the man on site 

(played out like:

Angel: he pen, smells like up dog in here no?

Pentious: smells like what?

Angel: up dog.

Pentious: what is this, up dog you speak of?

Angel: you know, up dog.

Pentious: no, i do not know what this up dog is, what is it?

*it carried out for like five minutes of this back and forth*)

He watches people sleep because he saw to many of his friends die in his former life (living on the streets and all) so he keeps a close eye on his new friends out of habit 

He and Niffty are banned from the coffee pot 

His egg bois were trained on lucky charms 

Charlie is is best friend in the whole wide world (they even have friendship bracelets to seal the deal)

Nifty used to leave the mice she caught in front of Pentious’s door for hime, they were asked to stop and now treat it like a drug deal 

Was really good at holding down his alcohol, gotten soft over the years

Both his fangs are sweet fangs

Once ate an entire container of sprinkles in front of the others

Man can and will choke on water 

He’s got the immune system of a victorian child (ie gets sick like once every other week)

He paints his claws 

Skills he learned living in hell: sewing, baking, computer science, rocket science, speaking indian and french, anthropology degree, book binding, toxicology 

Parrots slang he hears even if he doesn't know what it is 

(ie: Vaggie: I am about to kill Angel if he doesnt shut up.

Pentious: oh! Is this your villain era?) 

Stims by flapping his hands and frill 

He need chewelry or he will gnaw on his hands 

His hat is not alive, it acts like necomimi

Is immune to exhaust fumes at this point

Discovered hyperpop and scares Angel Dust when he tries to get the radio to play songs he actually knows and likes 

In his early years of having the egg bois he would eat eggs in front of them to scare them when he was upset at them, they never caught on because, well they are the egg bois 

Is a cat person

Runs a youtube channel where he swings between building tutorials and gossip commentary he’s got five followers and four of them are the egg bois and each video will rake up about 20 views 

He and emily are best friends (also with friendship bracelets) and they are like sugared up three year olds together 

They warrior cats roleplay together because let me have this

He goes around saying he kins victor frankenstein 

Ate a plastic bag once 

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 10: Million Dollar Man

Summary: When that explosion at F.E.A.S.T hits, Peter is quick to jump into action.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Bombing, terror attack, blood, gore, IF THESE ARE GONNA MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER!!! Genre typical violence and drama, angst

Word Count: 2K

A/N: As stated in the authors note of the last chapter, I am very aware of how this part of the story could be triggering for people or hard to read. I will put red stars ** to mark where the more graphic first response scenes end so you can read the plot info towards the end of the chapter, but if you want to skip this specific chapter altogether you can, the story will still make sense! This is a chapter from Peter's POV. The title comes from yet another Lana Del Rey song but I couldn't pick just one line as the whole of that song just encapsulates the feelings between Peter and Angel in this chapter. Also just to note, first responders are f*cking heroes and deserve to be treated as such every single freaking day! Anyway, enjoy!

TEN

BOOOMMM!

Peter was five blocks away from the hub when the blast went off. It was large enough to shake the surrounding buildings, car alarms going off.

“What the fuck was that?!” he hissed to Miguel in the driver's seat as traffic came to a screeching halt.

“I don’t know.” Harry frowned as they began to climb out of the car. That’s when they saw the smoke.

“That looks like-” Harry said.

“You don’t think-” Eddie chimed in, but Peter knew immediately, his ears tuning into the radio of a parked police car a little way up the street.

“We need all units to head towards Chinatown. There's been an explosion on Mulberry st.”

Peter didn’t think, just started running in the direction of the hub. As he ran down old back alleys and streets he hadn’t thought about in years, he couldn’t help but think this would be a lot quicker if he could swing there. He needed to get there. Although he ran as fast as he could, he felt like he was running out of time. Every second in a crisis like this was crucial. It was the literal decision maker between life and death.

‘Come on, still be alive.’ He thought to himself. ‘Still be alive.’

His heels skidded onto the street. It was carnage. Police and paramedics had already started to arrive, lifting bodies into the back of ambulances or covering them in sheets. There was smoke and dust everywhere. “Hey, you okay? What happened?” he asked an elderly couple who were trying to find a spot on the sidewalk away from the smoke to assess their injuries. The older gentleman had blood running down the side of his face, which dust and ash began to stick to. The older woman hobbled under his arm, a large graze on her arm and leg, her lungs heaving, trying to clear the smoke and dust.

“Bomb.” The old man’s gravely voice said.

A younger woman in her 30’s ushered them into her shop and out of the direct smoke and ash as Peter turned to survey the street again, working out how best to try and find her, his feet slowly carrying him towards the now former F.E.A.S.T building. If she was still inside he had no clue how he was gonna get her out.

“PETER!” A voice called to him. “YO BOSS! OVER HERE!”

Peter scanned the street until he located the owner of the voice, Miles, his shirt held up to his mouth as he tried not to inhale the smoke.

“Where is she!” Peter commanded.

“Right here.” Miles said as Peter reached him, Miles’ body now crouching protectively over Angel again.

She had a deep cut in her eyebrow that was gushing blood down the side of her face. Her hair was full of flecks of ash. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving and Peter suddenly feared the worst as his hands reached out to her.

“Is she…?” 

“No. Just unconscious.” Miles coughed.

“We need to get her out of here!” Peter shouted over the sound of sirens and people’s shouting voices. There was a baby screaming and the fire that had taken hold in the wake of the explosion roared behind them. “What happened!?”

“I don’t know, we were crossing the street when we were knocked on our asses. If she hadn't stopped at that cafe, we would have been in there!”

“What cafe?”

“The Lucky Cat, or something like that? Why?”

Peter just shook his head in acknowledgment, letting out a small thank you under his breath, but he didn’t know to whom.

“Hey, over here!” a fireman who had come up beside them, shouted to a paramedic, waving them over. That was when Peter looked down to see Miles’ leg, his pant leg torn and caked in blood.

A young female paramedic not much older than Miles himself, dropped to the floor beside them as she began to introduce herself and assess injuries. “Hi, I’m Dani, what’s your name sir?” she asked of Miles, as she grabbed out a tourniquet kit from her bag and began to apply it to Miles’ leg.

“Miles.” he informed her.

“And is this your friend Miles?” She asked, motioning to Angel’s body lying on the floor.

“That’s my wife.” Peter said.

“And you are sir-” Dani started to ask as she looked him over only to see he didn’t have any injuries, the only thing currently tying him to the blast, the ash and dust that had settled in his hair and on his black blazer and trousers. Then she caught a better look of his face and her question froze in her mouth at her recognition. She quickly decided to wave off the question as she looked from Peter to Angel and back again, before fixing her eyes to finish off wrapping Miles’ leg. When she was done her fingers reached out to check for Angel’s pulse.

“She was conscious just after the blast but then she became unresponsive again.” Miles filled her in.

“Again?” Dani asked, her eyebrows raising in the younger man’s direction.

“When the blast first went off and we were knocked on our asses-”

“-where were you?”

“-crossing the road. She was out of it for a second with the blast but she woke up when I called her name, she tried to sit up but then just collapsed again.”

“Okay. Okay.” Dani said before turning her head and calling to a colleague. “I’m gonna need a board so we can get her into the back of an ambulance, I’ve got a blow to the head- did she hit the car?” Dani quickly turned to check with Miles as she took in the dent in the side of the car door that was giving them shelter.

“Yes.” Miles hastily responded.

“Yeah! I’m worried about potential internal bleeding!” Dani turned back to shout at her colleague who gave a nod before leaving his own more stable patient and running down the street to a parked waiting ambulance. “Mr Parker,” she said as she turned back towards Peter, her fingers subconsciously retrieving gauze and a bandage from her kit to wrap around Angel’s head, “I suggest you make yourself scarce right now unless you want to cause even more of a scene and problems, especially if you want us to take care of your wife.” she advised. “I will make sure Miles here will get placed in the same ambulance as her and they end up at the same hospital so he can let you know where they end up so you can meet them there, but right now, it’s in everyone’s best interest if you leave. Unless you want to risk being arrested.”

Peter looked to his wife conflicted, but he knew the young lady before him was right.

“Pete!” Harry’s voice called as he made his way past bodies to reach them.

“I advise you, get your friend out of here now!” Dani cautioned again to Harry.

“Come on, Pete, we need to go.” Harry encouraged him as Peter slowly stood. “PETE!” Harry shouted at him to snap him out of the trance he seemed to be in. “This is exactly what Toombes wants. Don’t get yourself caught man!” Harry continued to reason, pulling at him.

“I’ll make sure she’s okay.” Miles promised.

****

Peter reluctantly turned his back on Miles and his wife and allowed Harry to ferry him away from the scene and back to where Miguel was now parked with the car.

“Boss, what do you want us to do?” Eddie asked as Peter climbed back into the car.

“I need you to call around to all the other hubs, make sure they get evacuated immediately.” Peter said. His message conveyed its urgency but his tone showed his mind was still split.

“Boss, Hobie’s calling?” Miguel said, handing a phone into the back of the car to him.

“Fuck.” Peter huffed, running a dusty hand through his equally dusty hair, getting frustrated as it flaked all over the seats of the car. He let out another groan before he answered the buzzing phone.

“Hey, man, what’s going on over there?” A loud, yet concerned, deep British voice bellowed down the phone. “It’s all over the news.”

“Fuck.” Peter sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest.

“We’ve just had it confirmed that one of the injured here on the scene is Y/N Parker, otherwise known as Angel, the daughter of recently deceased gangster Wilson Fisk. The F.E.A.S.T establishment here was set up by the Benjamin Parker foundation, 6 years ago, a charity that was created in Ben Parker's memory after his brutal murder almost 11 years ago now.” Peter heard the broadcast say in the background as Hobie spoke.

“Shit man, this is gonna bring so much attention. What the fuck happened? Some sources are citing it as a gas explosion but others are speculating because of your family ties to it being gang activity. It’s not looking good.” There’s a pause on the line as Peter thought and tried to compose himself. “Yo, Parker man, we gotta get on top of this shit now.” Hobie pressed him down the phone, but Peter had nothing, his mind panicking, trying to chase too many thoughts at once and coming up empty. “Look, I’m gonna call up Reilly, we’re gonna get on a jet and be with you asap. We can work this shit out when we get there.”

“Hobie?” Peter finally said, finding his voice. “What do you know about the Vulture?”

“Oh shit, no man! You are not in it deep with the Vulture?” Hobie responded. “Dude, that guy is ruthless, you saw what he did to KingPin.”

“But you know him?” Peter confirmed.

“Yeah, nasty piece of work. You know we had that warehouse in Manchester raided a few months back?”

“Yeah.”

“Well he took no time in swooping down and trying to take it.”

“You never told me that.” Peter looked confused.

“Didn’t need to, sent Reilly up there with some of his boys and they stamped that shit out quick. Guess that's when he decided to high tail it to New York and start messing with Fisk, not before he took a little stop in Italy, that is.”

Peter’s ears pricked up. “Italy?”

“Yeah. I had a tip off from Francetti when he saw the Romano’s sitting down with a guy he didn’t recognise and it was starting to brew trouble. When we asked him to give us a description of the guy we knew it was our man.”

Peter’s face changed. “What does that mean?” Harry asked, who had been listening in on the conversation. “Pete?”

“Any of Romano’s men get in touch with the Bianchi’s over here?” Peter asked down the phone.

“Yeah, why?”

“Shit!” Harry said as he too started to put the pieces together.

“Eddie?” Peter called out to the front passenger seat to get Eddie’s attention.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gruff voice said back.

“When exactly did Angel get back into town?”

“It was maybe two days after Fisk had that break in at the Phoenix club.” Eddie replied.

Peter began to think. That was when Fisk first started having issues with the Italians. He thought back to his conversation with his wife at the house before they were shot at. She had said they had just thought it was the Italians getting too big for their boots at first.

“I’ve just got a text from Miles, they’re just pulling into Kings.” Eddie then said.

“Brooklyn?” Miguel confirmed as he started up the engine to the car. Eddie nodded as Miguel pulled out into traffic.

“Parker, we’re gonna get on a plane and be with you in a few hours.” Hobie said down the phone. “We’ll get this guy, I promise. Nobody lays a finger on our Angel without burning in hell for it.”

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

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[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 2: Destroying Angel

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, scary situation, Merle being creepy, mild violence, typical TWD ❧ Word Count: 2.6k

❧ In This Chapter: A foray into the woods for mushrooms turns deadly, but a mysterious man with a crossbow comes to your rescue, not unlike Robin Hood. The man isn't alone, though, and his brother seeks to know just where you came from.

❧ A/N: This chapter introduces the lovely Daryl Dixon (and the insufferable Merle Dixon). I also researched a bit about poisonous berries and mushrooms for this chapter, something I've never really looked into before. You learn something new everyday!

It had been six days since the explosions, and in that time your group had gotten significantly bigger.

Dale was the first person to find his way to the quarry. You and him both had the idea of heading that way. Apparently he was also familiar with the site and had frequently camped there. You liked him a lot, he reminded you a bit of your dad. He also brought an RV with him which provided some shelter from the elements.

Others began to trickle in one by one. A younger man named Glenn; a woman named Jacqui; a man named T-Dog; a woman named Andrea and her younger sister Amy; a man named Jim; and a man named Morales and his family had all somehow landed at the quarry.

There was a handful of other people in the general area, but the camp seemed to be mostly concentrated around yourself and the others you had grown close to in the last six days.

You, Shane, Andrea, and Glenn had gone to the nearest town to find useful supplies. What hadn’t been ransacked during the panic was sufficient to keep the group alive for now, but a bigger run into the city would have to be planned out sooner or later.

You were lucky enough to snatch your own tent and cot, as well as a hunting knife and some more outdoorsy clothing. After all, the ankle-length dress you arrived in probably wouldn’t be the most practical outfit in an apocalyptic situation. That was one thing you hadn’t really thought about during your panic-pack.

In terms of the disease, it was safe to say that things had gone from bad to worse. The wandering infected, whom Glenn had affectionately nicknamed “geeks,” had been seen staggering around the surrounding woods. It was agreed upon that all geeks were to be killed on sight since they wouldn’t hesitate to take a bite out of one of you. Your group was still able to tune into radio broadcasts, but they weren’t particularly helpful. However, they did confirm your suspicions that those who were bit did actually come back to life. So you weren’t just losing your mind, which was only a small comfort to you.

Despite the overall situation, you considered yourself pretty lucky to have fallen in with such helpful people. Nevertheless, you found yourself dissatisfied with Shane. He fancied himself the leader of the group, and you wouldn’t mind so much if he weren’t so cocky. Plus you were always a good judge of character, and something about him didn’t sit right with you.

By the sixth day you had found a few chores to keep your mind off Shane’s slightly questionable leadership. You and Amy had developed a daily routine of collecting berries, mushrooms, and whatever else you could get your hands on in the forest. Amy was quite a bit younger than you by at least five years but you found yourself getting along with her well. She reminded you of yourself when you were in your early twenties.

“Hey, check these out,” Amy called out to you as she approached with a cluster of blueberry-like berries in her hand, “Think they’re edible?”

You took a cursory look at the purple fruit, then thumbed open the guide to wild berries, nuts, and mushrooms you had “borrowed” from the camping store you had rummaged through a few days earlier. You didn’t know the first thing about foraging, but your life philosophy had always been “there’s probably a book about it.”

“Let’s see,” you muttered, turning the pages meticulously while you examined the berries, “They look like… pokeweed berries. It says here they can cause headaches, nausea, vomiting, extreme dia—”

“Okay, so not edible,” Amy quipped, tossing the bunch of berries behind her in defeat.

You closed your book with a tilt of your head and an exasperated sigh. “Hey, I’m sure we’ll find something.” You rested a comforting hand on the younger girl’s shoulder as she gave you the best smile she could.

Truth be told, the food situation was not great. Fortunately, Dale had brought some fishing gear but no one had any luck in the quarry so far. Ed had some M.R.E.s in his survival kit but they were down to their last box. Plus Ed was pretty stingy with them as it was.

No one in the group was a hunter or trapper. You yourself were a vegetarian and didn’t have much to offer in that department. It seemed that for now you’d have to resort to scavenging until someone found some hunting gear on the next run, but even that was risky with the dead walking around in seemingly greater numbers everyday and very few means of self-defense.

Amy stretched her arms as she looked around at the surrounding woods. “I think I’m gonna head back, Andrea’s gonna have a cow if I’m out too long.”

You nodded and slung your backpack onto your shoulder. “You go ahead, I’m gonna keep looking around. I swear I saw some mushrooms around here the other day.”

“Shane’ll freak out if I come back without you. Buddy system and all that,” she gestured her hands, mimicking Shane.

“Yeah, well Shane’s an asshole."

Amy rolled her eyes and smiled, grabbing her empty basket and starting towards camp. “Just be careful. Don’t get yourself killed over mushrooms.”

You knew it was not the best idea to be out in the woods alone, but the group needed food and you were intent on making yourself useful with the few practical skills you had. Although you didn't know how to forage, the least you could do is try.

As you made your way deeper into the forest, the sun began to make its way towards the west with the last of its gold flakes caressing the dainty silhouettes of the leaves on the beech trees. Time had gotten away from you as you kept looking for those damn mushrooms. Surely you were now much too far away from the camp.

You stopped to rest on a fallen log, wondering how you got this far without finding anything edible.

You gazed up at the intermingling branches giving texture to the increasingly dark blue sky. Evening was encroaching upon you much sooner than you had anticipated.

Bringing your gaze back down to earth, you found your Holy Grail: those goddamn mushrooms!

Practically lunging yourself off the log, you kneeled down next to the pretty white fungi. If you were being honest, you didn’t even like mushrooms, but the beautiful, pearly growths standing proud at the base of an ancient tree were enough to change your mind (that and the incessant growling coming from your stomach).

Reaching behind for your pack, you procured your handy field guide and began eagerly flipping through the dusty pages.

Your eyes darted between the cluster of alabaster and the images in the book, trying desperately to find a match. It was as if, in this moment, the only thing that mattered was those mushrooms.

Your mind was so preoccupied that you couldn’t even hear the crushing of dead leaves underfoot coming from behind you. Your eyes lifted slightly from your coveted mushrooms as you finally unsheathed your hunting knife from its cradle attached to your belt, but by then it was too late.

You spun yourself around only to be trampled on by a particularly hungry looking geek. By some sick twist of fate, your knife had slipped out of your hands in the chaos and landed a few feet away, too far to reach considering this geek had its entire body weight draping over you.

You pushed the geek’s face away from you, one hand on its forehead and the other on its rotting chest.

“Oh, god!” you yelped in panic.

This is it. This is how I die. Picking mushrooms. I don’t even like the little bastards.

All thoughts ceased as an arrow zipped through the air and lodged itself deep into the corpse’s skull. You sighed in relief, until the now completely lifeless body collapsed onto you.

“Ugh!” you pushed the thing off and away from you, checking yourself for bites all the while.

Hearing another rustling of leaves, your head bolted to attention as you laid eyes on a man, a live one, brandishing a crossbow.

He was wearing a tattered sleeveless shirt and jeans. His weatherworn skin was coated in dirt and blood, but you could still make out the sapphire of his eyes, which were narrowed at you as you began picking up your things, still in shock but not wanting to stay here longer than you needed to.

“Um… thanks,” you mumbled, subconsciously fixing your disheveled hair.

The bowman approached you and rather unceremoniously tore the arrow from the decaying bone in which it had nestled.

“Don’ mention it,” he looked down at you with something in his eyes you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Annoyance? Confidence? Pity? He was difficult to read, but somehow you knew his intentions weren’t bad. Hell, he saved you from a geek. That’s got to count for something. Or maybe you were just naïve.

“Well, looky here!” a booming voice came from behind the archer.

A taller, older man in equally as dirty clothes wielding a shotgun approached, resting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and flashing a smile that made you uneasy.

“Looks like we got ourselves a little doe-eyed bambi,” he looked you up and down lasciviously whilst licking his thin, dried lips, “Where’d you come from, darlin’?”

You quickly stood up to your full height, trying your best to maintain some sort of composure despite the jitters running through your body as you stood alone in the woods with two much stronger looking men whose intentions weren’t entirely clear.

You cleared your throat. “Um, I don’t come from anywhere,” you lied, “I just came out looking for mushrooms and things.” You weren’t sure if you could trust these men enough to tell them about your camp.

“Mushrooms n’ things?” the younger man echoed, eying you suspiciously.

“Yeah, I just love the darn things,” you lied, again, gesturing to the cluster of white mushrooms next to your feet.

The older man scoffed, “Well, you gotta come from somewheres. You got a camp around here, girl?” He stepped closer to you and watched as you zipped up your pack and threw it on your back.

Shit. You’ve always been bad at lying. How were you supposed to talk your way out of this one? It wasn’t like you could just run, these guys had long range weapons. Wait…

Your eyes widened as you focused on the bulky crossbow slung across the archer’s chest. Trailing to his shoulder, you eyed a string of dead squirrels dangling there haphazardly, tied by their fluffy tails.

They’re hunters.

At least the bowman was. That was what the camp needed more than anything — someone who could navigate the woods and bring back some hearty meat. Maybe he could teach others to hunt too. Sure, you just met the guy, and you didn’t like the looks his brother was giving you, but they seemed mostly harmless.

You went over the consequences in your head: living with two rednecks who could hunt and fight or starving to death? The former seemed the better option for surviving.

“You guys can hunt?”

The archer scoffed. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“Hey, that ain’t no way to talk to a lady, Daryl,” the older brother chided and turned his gaze to you, “‘specially not one as pretty as you.”

Great, you thought, one’s an asshole and the other one’s a creep.

“We hunt,” the man called Daryl nodded to you, “Sure as hell don’t hunt no mushrooms neither.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. This could be a tremendous help to the group’s chances of survival.

“If I take you guys to my camp,” you ventured, “will you help us? We need food and none of us know how to hunt. We don’t have a lot of weapons either.”

“Can’t ya teach yourselves? It ain’t rocket science, woman,” Daryl spat. You couldn’t help but be a little hurt by the vitriol of his words. It stung even though you didn’t know the man.

“Now hold on a minute, baby brother. Maybe we can help these people, but what’s in it for us?”

You thought for a moment. Why should they help you?

“A place to stay, a group to watch your back, human interaction…” you trailed off as you couldn’t think of any other reasons.

“We also have checkers,” you shrugged, and the two men just looked at you like you were crazy.

After a few too many seconds of awkward silence, the older brother let out a vociferous laugh that you were sure would attract every walker in the vicinity.

“Oh, man! You hear that, Daryl? They got checkers!” he hollered.

The younger man just kept looking at you, chewing his bottom lip as he crossed his arms against his broad chest.

“Tell ya what, sugar,” he approached you slowly, never taking his eyes off you, “you take us to this camp of yours and we’ll stay and help if we like what we see,” he was now so close to your face that you could smell the cigarettes on his breathe. “But considering we damn near saved your life, I’d say you owe us a little bit more.”

“Shut up, Merle!” Daryl pulled him away.

Of course his name is Merle.

Daryl looked back at you, “Jus’ take us to your camp.”

“Fine,” you quickly plucked some of the mushrooms and delicately placed them in your basket, “but please don’t make me regret this.”

There was a vulnerability in your voice. You didn’t want this to be a mistake. You needed it not to be a mistake. There was no room for error these days.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Merle drawled.

“My name’s (Y/N). I’d prefer if you called me that,” you replied as the three of you began walking towards the camp.

“Okay, okay,” the man held his hands up in defense, “Merle, and that there’s Daryl.”

You looked to the silent archer. He didn’t talk as much as his brother, so that was a relief. He might not be very nice but at least he wouldn’t grate your ears with constant remarks.

As the three of you trudged through the increasingly dark forest, you looked down into your basket at the mushrooms you had picked. Your thumb traced over the soft curves as you admired the delicate ivory cap. You would be sure to identify it later, but for now you marveled at its undeniable beauty.

��Destroying angel,” a gruff, yet somehow soft, voice intruded on your thoughtless thoughts.

“What?” you turned towards the archer.

“Those ‘shrooms, they’re called destroying angel. Eat ‘em and you’ll shit yourself to death.”

“Oh.”

Great. Almost got killed for the damn things and they’re poisonous.

“Thanks for the tip,” you smiled.

Daryl simply grunted, looking down at his feet as they moved across the forest floor. “Ain’t nothing.”

You might get an earful from Shane when you get back to camp with two seemingly unstable rednecks you found in the forest, but at least they seemed to know what they were doing out there.

In any case, Daryl wasn’t so bad. A little rough around the edges, but not so bad.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always welcome!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun. 

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up… 

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration… 

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed… 

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan 

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth. 

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes… 

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it. 

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?" 

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus 

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to  apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub 

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else. 

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor 

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

[whelvenwings]

who will fall beside you, if you fall

Dean Winchester's been loved in a lot of different ways throughout his life. He was shaped by that love, changed by the expectations and hopes and hurts of the people he cared about. He learned fear and silence and caution. But Castiel's confession, free of expectation, might undo those lessons.

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Endgame Castiel/Dean, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Lisa/Dean Snippet and Minor Cassie/Dean Snippet, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Fallen Angel Castiel Word Count: ~4k

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” Dean said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me.” The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

Read the whole thing below the cut!

Dean was three years old and not quite steady on his feet, still, when his father took him outside to help shovel the snow. In his coat and hat he was a little duffled-up sweetheart, to whom nothing particularly bad had ever happened.

Red-cheeked and grinning, he left small bootprints in the snow.

“Come over here, Dean.” John stood behind Dean and lowered the shovel down to Dean’s height, so that they could hold it and move the snow together. Dean pressed his lips together and frowned as he followed his father’s movements. John’s coat smelled like smoke and the outdoors. They moved one, two, three, four, five big shovel-fulls.

“That’s enough for one day,” said a voice from the porch – Mary, smiling down at the two of them. John carefully lifted the shovel out of Dean’s reach, standing up to his full height. They’d managed to clear just a short stretch of the path that led up to the house.

“But Mom, there’s loads more!” Dean said, pointing to the rest of the pathway.

“Your dad can clear that. You need to come in and have some lunch,” Mary said. “Come on.”

Dean looked up to his father with wide eyes, but John put his hand on the top of Dean’s head and ruffled it so that his hat almost came off.

“Listen to your mom, Dean. In you go.”

Dean’s eyes travelled from his father’s face to his mother’s.

“There’s your favourite for dessert,” Mary said, coaxing him with a little smile.

“Yes!”

Dean made a sudden break for it towards her, running down the path he’d just helped to clear. After the crunch-crunch-crunch of the snow, the cleared pathway was hard under Dean's feet. Hard, and unexpectedly slippery.

“Whoa, there,” said John, as Dean felt his balance go, his feet skidding out from under him – and suddenly he was being lifted, one hand on either side of him. John pulled him up out of the fall, and set him back down in thick snow.

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

“Next time,” John said, giving Dean a little push indoors, “I won’t catch you. You’ve got to learn, Dean.”

–––––

And now Dean was eleven years old and trailing after his father down a quiet midnight street, with a sleepy little brother in tow.

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

He’d pay for that question later somehow, and Dean knew it, but because he’d asked there was a new purpose in John’s step. They didn’t stop at the liquor store that Dean knew John had been weighing going into. Walking past it, Dean felt a little break of relief in his chest. They’d get out of the cold sooner, and Sam could get to bed.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, keeping walking. Sam was wearing Dean’s coat, swimming in it, the hood pulled up and the elastic tight so only the round circle of his face was visible. It was nearly funny, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the humour was shaved off everything.

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.” Dean cast a glance forwards at his father’s back. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay. Just a little bit longer.”

Sam made a miserable face. Their breaths were puffs of air between them. Underfoot was the hiss and crunch of melting, slushy snow.

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

“It’s late, Sammy. We’ll have something in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

“Okay.” Dean cast another worried look towards his father, and then made a meaningful face at Sam when he looked back around. “I’ll find something. I think we have some of that apple juice left over.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said, but he’d quietened his voice, too. “And a drink.”

“You didn’t know?” Dean said, making sure his face was completely straight.

“Know what?”

“That’s the best part,” Dean said. “Cold drinks make you warm up faster.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean cursed internally. Every day Sam got a little smarter and a little harder to keep happy.

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

“It is,” Dean promised. “You’ll see.” He thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Maybe we can heat up the apple juice."

“Keep up, boys,” said John’s voice, from too far away. Dean realised he must have slowed down as he’d talked to Sam, even though he’d been trying to hold a steady pace. He reached for Sam’s hand, turning his head at the same time to call back to his father – and as he did so, he felt his balance betray him. His feet slipped in the slush, and in a rush he was a jumble of elbows and knees hitting the ground in all the wrong places.

For a second he sat still, assessing the damage. Nothing broken.

“Are you okay?” Sam said, the dish of his face looking pale and worried above Dean.

“I’m fine… ugh.”

“Get up,” John called, and when Dean turned his head to look, he saw that his father was turning away to keep walking. Dean scrambled to his feet, hands out for balance. His hip ached – he’d landed on it.

“I’m alright,” Dean said to Sam, pulling on a smile. “Let’s go.”

He hurried after John, making sure Sam was beside him, going as fast as he dared until they were right behind their father. His knee was starting to throb, too, and he kept it off his face carefully, because Sam was still glancing up at him.

“Saw you reach for your brother when you were falling,” John grunted. “Don’t do that. If you two’re on your own and both of you go down, you’re both dead. If Sam’s still up, he can go for help.”

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

“Don’t do it,” John repeated, more forcefully.

They walked on in silence.

––––-

And now Dean was twenty-one years old and stepping out into the brisk air of a winter evening, with his head a little light from the drinks he’d had in the bar at his back.

“Come on,” Cassie said from beside him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You can tell me.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this,” Dean said, as they began to make their way down the street, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

Dean glanced over at her smile, and thought about the way the shifter he’d taken out earlier that day had looked at him, right before he’d swung the blade through her neck. He swallowed hard.

“I might,” he said, and held his arms a little out from his body. “How long can I contain this much raw aggression, you know?”

“Stop," Cassie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, okay, just tell me what your job is.”

“Is it really worth your life?” Dean asked, putting on his most serious face.

“You’re really trying to tell me you’re, what – a spy? A fed?” Cassie asked. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to believe that. With that face?”

“Hey,” Dean said, mock-offended, as they passed closed-up stores and parking bays. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, “that’s literally the problem. The FBI don’t hire people who look like you, do they? This is real life, not HBO.”

“Okay,” Dean said, his face working not to look too pleased. Underfoot, the pavement was shiny with ice. Dean started to walk a little slower. “So, if this isn’t the face of a fed, what is it the face of?”

“Mmm. Radio show host?” Cassie laughed when Dean threw her a look. “Well, c’mon, how am I supposed to know? Third date and you still won’t tell me?”

“Just trying to keep the mystery alive,” Dean said, faking an absent kind of tone in the hope that Cassie would drop the subject. The sidewalk was getting more and more treacherous, each of his steps sliding just a little.

“The mystery is too alive,” Cassie said. “It could die a bit. I’d be okay with that.”

“Whoa… careful.” Dean’s foot slipped out from under him, and he only managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto a parking meter that happened to be close by.

“Easy, big shot.” Cassie watched him start to move again, even more tentatively. “Wouldn’t wanna lose the deal with HBO if you fall on that perfect face.”

There was an edge of hurt to her tone of voice, and Dean jaw tightened. Was he ever going to tell her, he wondered. Surely not. She’d hate it. Spending time with Cassie was like visiting a parallel universe. That world didn’t have room for monsters under the bed.

And so Dean kicked them back underneath as hard as he could, and smiled at Cassie, and held out his hand.

Cassie looked down at it, and then back up at him.

“Really?” she said, a smile waiting at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s slippery,” Dean said, and wiggled his fingers temptingly.

“Yeah,” Cassie said with a laugh, pushing his hand away, “it is, asshole. That’s why I’m not letting you take me down with you.”

––––-

And now Dean was thirty-one years old and watching a soccer game, gloves on, hat on, clapping along with the dark-haired woman next to him.

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

“Like we practised, okay, kid?” Dean added, and watched Ben’s face relax into concentration as he placed the ball for his free kick, just a yard outside the penalty box.

“You practised free kicks with him?” Lisa said to Dean, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. Dean glanced down at her; she had her eyes on her son, but there was a little smile on her face.

“A couple times,” Dean said. “He asked.”

“That’s sweet. And I thought you two just watched TV and ate too much pizza together.”

“We do that too,” Dean said. “When I have a say in it.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. On either side of Lisa and Dean, also at the edge of the soccer pitch, were other parents all waiting on Ben to take his kick. They were standing on wet grass, a few of them stamping their feet to keep them from going numb.

Ben took a short run up, swung his leg, made contact. The ball sailed high, dipped – and the goalie caught it neatly.

“Next time,” Dean called out when Ben’s face fell, and gave him a clap. The game played on.

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

Lisa looked up at him, her big brown eyes soft.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“... Right.” Dean smiled awkwardly. Lisa’s would-be compliment hung in the air, sounding more incongruous the longer Dean stood tense and unmoving.

Lisa reached out, and put her hand on his folded arms.

“You wanna order in, tonight?” she said lightly. “Or I could make fajitas.”

“I can cook,” Dean said. “I’ll make burgers.”

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

Some small burst of relief, there. Dean’s expression eased. He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his chin, as though remembering the role he was playing. Who he was, now.

He shifted his feet – and felt his right foot slide, almost right out from under him. He steadied himself, hands out to the sides, looking down at the grass.

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

“Come here,” Lisa said, holding out her hand.

Dean smiled.

“It’s all good,” he said, reaching out and giving the hand a squeeze, and then letting go quickly.

“Can’t have the head chef breaking his arm,” Lisa said, her hand still out.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

Her expression allowed no argument. Unwillingly, Dean allowed her to loop their arms together, Lisa pinning Dean to her side and turning back to the game, calling out to support Ben as he went for a tackle. Dean stood quietly. He was having to lean down ever so slightly so that Lisa could keep his arm tucked under hers.

He tried very hard not to move. Just the smallest slide of his feet and he’d be over and he’d take her with him. Every muscle in his legs was clenched, forcing himself not to slip.

After just a minute or so of stiff silence, Lisa sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

And now Dean was forty-one years old and walking down a street in Lebanon, Kansas, on legs that still felt a little new. The cold air was harsh; he took in a deep breath.

He went to cross the road, and a car gave a screech as it swerved suddenly to avoid him. The driver made a few different gestures at him through the window, and Dean held up a hand in apology.

It was easy to forget that things didn’t part and make way on Earth like they had done in Heaven.

“Couldn’t fix that for me, could you?” Dean said aloud. “Not that I’m not grateful for the ticket home, Cas, but Heaven had its perks.”

Silence. Dean kept walking, with only the slightest slump to his shoulders and crease on his brow. Lebanon was wearing snow like a big white coat. Dean’s boots crunched in it when he stepped off the gritted path to let a mother with a stroller go by.

“I should probably stop expecting to see you round every corner, huh,” he said. “Been a week now. And I keep wandering around thinking you might show up just ‘cause I’m looking.” Someone passing gave him a slightly frightened look and a wide berth as he walked by, talking to himself. Just another thing no one had much noticed in Heaven: the prayers. Dean frowned, and ducked his head. Tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked quietly for some time.

Long enough for his hands to come back out of his pockets, and his shoulders to lose their self-conscious hunch. Long enough for the hurt in his eyes to seem nearer the surface.

“Might not even have been you that got me out of Heaven,” Dean said, his tone quiet, as though picking up the thread of a half-finished conversation.

A pause, in which he walked. Passed by other people, made no eye contact. Dean meandered a little as he went, as though his mind were elsewhere.

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” he said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me,” he said. The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

He swallowed.

“It feels like I have to do something, though.”

He kept walking.

“Or, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to.”

He breathed out.

Emotions were crossing his face, too fast to catch one alone, too swift to parse. He looked down at his feet, watching where he stepped.

“If I had what I wanted,” he said, “you’d be here.” After a pause, he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s news to you. Like, wow, right? Not as though I’ve ever asked, after all.” Another silence, and then he said, “But you know, I – it’s not that I just want to… fix it, or… finish things off. It’s not… I’m not…” He pressed his lips together, smiled wryly. “Jesus. I hope you can’t hear this. I’m not making any sense. I’m just trying to say, I want you here, man. I want you here to stay.”

A little flicker of light seemed to touch Dean’s eyes.

“You could stay now,” he said, “right? You could actually stay. If you wanted to. And we could…” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

A car drove by, and the child in the backseat stared out the window at him. Dean blinked back to reality.

“We didn’t have time to think about what we wanted,” he said into the quiet of the parking lot, when the car had passed and he was walking again. “All this time. Or maybe you did. But I didn’t.” He looked upwards, towards the iron sky. “And now there’s time, Cas, and all I’m thinking about is you.” He looked down. “I said that already.”

He moved on, stepping out the other side of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“I remember you said that the… the thing you want, you can’t have.” Dean took in a breath and let it go. “I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t. Whatever it is, man, you deserve it.”

His feet carried him onward.

“You gotta be sick of hearing me talk at this point. But I just…” Dean’s eyes glanced over the snowy Lebanon street in front of him, and he crossed the road. “I just want you here. Maybe I should take a damn hint.” His voice strained, hurt betraying the attempt at levity in his tone. “But you said… I keep thinking back on what you said. About how you feel. And I, uh. You know. If you’d just let me…”

Dean lifted his hands, a little helplessly, into the air as he walked, as though wanting to give something invisible to someone who wasn’t there. He dropped them awkwardly, his expression creasing.

He was circling back around towards the mall, his footsteps pointing him towards home. He looked heavy, weary. The lines on his face were deep, and his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

The people around him paid him no attention. He was just part of the crowd. They swirled across his path and around him, irrelevant to him, not seeing him. Except –

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

Twenty feet away from him, standing completely still, was a figure. Not struggling with carrier bags or strollers or wallets and keys like the other shoppers going into and out of the mall. Utterly stone still.

Tall, almost as tall as Dean. Wearing a long coat. Brown-haired. Impassive.

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

And Dean visibly blossomed. His mouth fell slightly open, his shoulders loosened, one hand reached out unconsciously.

“Cas?” he said, disbelieving – and Dean saw a slight smile appear on Castiel’s face, and the angel slightly raised one hand in greeting.

Warmth touched Dean’s eyes, rising up as though from a great depth. He began to move, at first taking care on the slippery sidewalk. But his feet hurried him, and he was walking fast and then he was almost running, caution forgotten, eyes on Castiel’s.

It was when he was only a few steps away that his foot hit a patch of black ice. His arms went out, struggling to balance him – Castiel moved forward, one hand out – Dean reached for him on instinct, grasping his arm, his body relaxing in obvious expectation of Castiel being able to pull him upright –

But Castiel’s weight tilted along with Dean’s, and the ground gave them both a hard and cold welcome. There were some muttered ooohs from people passing by, and a few of them came to awkward stops nearby.

Dean landed hard on his back, head hitting the cement. He stared for a moment up at the sky. It had all happened very fast.

He sat up, and saw Castiel kneeling beside him, inspecting his own hands.

“Fuck,” Dean said. He put a hand to the back of his head. No blood.

“Are you okay?” said someone behind Dean, and he waved them off.

“All good,” he said, seeing in his peripheral vision that the people who’d stopped to look were moving on. He looked at Castiel. “Are you… you’re…”

Castiel stopped staring down at his hands, and looked at Dean instead. His blue eyes searched Dean’s face. Under his gaze, Dean smiled – a smile that grew on his face from a tiny brightness in his eyes until his whole face was alight with it.

“It’s you,” he said. "Damn, Cas, it's really you."

“It’s me,” Castiel confirmed. His voice held a recognition of Dean’s smile, a reciprocal warmth.

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded. He was breathing a little fast. His gaze searched Castiel’s face, partly seeming to be looking for something, partly seeming already to have found it. People were stepping around them to get inside the mall.

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

“But you know,” Dean added, “you could’ve just appeared right next to me instead of a whole freaking mile away on a slippery sidewalk. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Ah.” Castiel, still on his knees beside where Dean was sitting, dropped his gaze. “That was, in fact, not under my control. Jack sent me down here. After I asked him to do something for me.”

Castiel looked down at his hands again, and this time Dean looked too. His expression broke into slight surprise when he saw red on Castiel’s palms, at the sight of the blood – and then the surprise came in a second, deeper wave, as realisation hit.

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

“But you – you’re – that’s not supposed to happen,” Dean said. He reached out, and took Castiel’s hands in his own, inspecting the little scrapes on the skin. “You can’t get hurt like this.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

“But you’re…” Dean stared at Castiel, seeming suddenly caught in consternation.

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

Wide-eyed, still sitting on the sidewalk, Dean took this in. Something light crossed his face, then anger, then confusion.

“I heard you,” Castiel reminded him. Dean stared at him.

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

Despite the hustle of people around them, the crunch-crunch of their boots in the snow and the harshness of their voices, Dean and Castiel might have been the only two people in the world when Castiel said,

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, but – before, in the bunker, with the Empty, when you said – the thing – the thing you said you wanted –”

Castiel looked down at their hands. Dean’s holding Castiel’s.

Dean tightened his grip.

“Just that?” he said, his voice sounding thick.

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

They stared at each other. Hands in hands, touching, Castiel bleeding. Dean didn’t let go.

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

“You mean…” Castiel’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You mean that you…”

“Since pretty much day one. I just never thought you’d want that from me.”

The world moved past and around them. They didn’t notice. Castiel was radiating happiness in every body line, though he was unmoving. Dean was watching him as though afraid he might disappear in the space of a blink.

"Is this real?" he said. "My head hurts enough for it to be real."

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

After enough time under the steadiness of Castiel’s gaze, it seemed finally to sink in for Dean – the truth of it, the reality of it. Dean breathed out.

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he gave a nod made small by emotion.

“Oh. I’m sorry, though,” Dean said, his eyes catching on Castiel’s small injuries now that he was looking down again. His thumb lightly touched the place where blood was drying on Castiel’s palm. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have run at you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, getting to his feet and pulling Dean up with him, their hands not letting go.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said, his blood on Dean’s hands, and still holding them. “Don’t be.”

[cinnamonrusts]

together, we can make it out alive - 1

[a/n: originally posted on my Ao3 and I decided to revamp my series some with my updated writing techniques. Hope you enjoy.]

                                                                  ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚

*BEEPBEEP BEEPBEEP*

The electronic chimes from your alarm clock blared loudly in your ear. Groans escaped your dry throat as the clock stirred you from your slumber, "Not yet--," your hand fished for the large snooze button on the top of the clock. Five more minutes, that is all you would need. Well, five minutes came and once again the alarm beeped in your ear. Your eyelids slowly lifted as you read the blurry red digits that stared in your face. "3:45 PM", it read. "Shit..." you cursed as you knew that you needed to get up and get around for your nightshift turn.

Your legs swung around the edge of your bed as you stretched with a loud yawn. Daylight peaked in through your blinds and shined directly into your eyes, "I really need some black out curtains," you mumbled to yourself as you made a mental note. This was just your daily routine now. You slept in the morning after getting off work from the Raccoon City Police Department and woke up around 3:00 PM. Ate, exercised, showered, and relaxed all before you pushed pencils on the clock at your desk.

Don't get it wrong. It was a job and you were thankful, but your duties weren't exactly what you expected them to be after the headache that was the police academy. You didn't hate your job, you just didn't -- like it. Also, you really fucking hated Raccoon City. It was not the same place that you remembered as a kid, not to mention all the weird things that had been going on lately. You just really wanted out of there. Maybe go to a warmer city... like Los Angeles or something.

You pushed yourself to a stand and turned around on the balls of your feet to head to the bathroom. When you reached the shower, you turned on the faucet and ran your fingers under the warm water. Just as it reached the perfect temperature, your phone rang. You ignored it and waited for the voicemail to pick up. But it just rang again.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" you yelled at the telephone as you stomped through your apartment to the device on the wall. "Hello?" you answered.

A familiar, yet unwelcomed voice barked from the other end of the line. "[L/N]! Where the hell are you?!" It was Lt. Branagh. "Home. My shift doesn't start until 10." your eyes rolled as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Get your ass over to the station! We've had reports all day of violent attacks all over the damn city!" He couldn't be serious -- it was 6 hours now until your shift! "I don't come in until--," Branagh cut you off, "I expect to see you soon, [L/N]." the call ended.

You kicked the open moving box that sat in front of you in anger. It flipped onto its side and the contents spilled out onto the floor. It was a bunch of papers that you failed to file away and as you picked them up, you noted a familiar picture on top of the mess. The photo displayed two very recognizable faces that had smiles displayed happily.

You and Leon S. Kennedy.

He was your partner in crime during the police academy. Leon was the only one who didn't see you being a woman as a weakness. The two of you hit it off immediately after he introduced himself and complimented your skills.

On top of your heads were colorful party hats that seemed to be a bit too small. Both of your arms were slinked around his shoulders as you pulled him in for a close hug. His right hand was rested on your waist and the left held up a large mug of beer that was about to spill out onto the floor. Your thumb caressed the image of his handsome face and a smirk spread across your lips. You flipped the picture over and in faded pen was your handwriting: "Graduation Celebration! JULY '98"

Leon crossed your mind often. The two of you lost contact with one another after something happened between the two of you. It was as if that party happened yesterday -- the night that he kissed you. Your eyes closed and you could picture Leon's face perfectly - the way that his lips puckered and the way that they felt.

The two of you stood outside of the bar on that warm summer night. Leon was leaned against his shitty blue car that was wrapped in faded paint and rust. You stood in front of him with your arms crossed and your eyes focused on the clear sky that hovered above. Then the sensation of fingers over your skin drew your attention from the sky, to the man. Your gazes locked and his lids were half shut but a smile was on his lips. "Leon, you're drunk, aren't you?" you chuckled. His fingers wrapped around your bicep, "Maybe," he cooed as he brought you close to him. You could feel and smell his breath, it was warm and stunk heavy of booze.

With his free hand, he moved it to your cheek and tickled it lightly with his knuckle. Your [E/C] eyes stared deep into his moonstone ones, Leon's pupils dilated before they closed. His lips met yours. They were smooth but a bit chapped - he must be an avid user of Chapstick, you thought. The kiss was quick but meaningful. When he pulled away, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for another. When the two of you broke apart, you noted the way those moonstone pools in his head looked at you -- you could get lost in them -- forever.

The fond memories brought warmth to your heart that you lost the track of time. Pounds from beneath you interrupted your reminiscence. Your neighbor below screamed through the floorboards. "Hey, you fucking idiot! Stop using all the hot water! You're not the only one who fucking lives here!" he continued to pound and yell. "Shut up, you fuck!" you screamed back as you scrambled to your feet. Your clothing was stripped from your body as you dashed to the shower, and jumped directly into the lukewarm stream.

You knew that Branagh was most likely boiled over in anger because of how late you were already. Once you finished your shower, you pulled on your police uniform, styled your hair into a neat bun, grabbed a bagel, and ran out the door. Your car was parked pretty far down the road and rain began to fall from the sky. What a perfect start to the day. You shoved the bagel into your mouth and dashed for your car. The key slipped in your hands as you fiddled with them to get the door unlocked. Just as you grabbed the correct one, they fell onto the ground and so did your bagel.

"I've already had enough of today," you cursed and sighed to yourself as you bent over to pick them up. When you stood back up, a woman came from nowhere and threw herself onto you. She cried in panic and spoke incoherently. You noted the large wound on her shoulder and blood was seeped heavily into her shirt. "P-Please! Help me!" she grabbed onto your shirt with blood stained hands. "Ma'am!" you yelled and pushed her off of you for your own safety. She stumbled back and fell to her knee, "Let me call an ambulance!" you started to run to a nearby pay phone but she stopped you with a stutter that it was too late. "There's more of them!" her head turned in the direction of an alley to the left, then she took off from the ground in a haste. "Ma'am, wait!" you yelled as you watched her run away around the corner and into the city.

"Who's coming?" you whispered. With curiosity, you walked toward the alley that the woman had looked down but saw no one. Maybe she was one of the crazy people that were noted to be around the city and around the Arklays... If you saw her again, you'd probably call in some backup... the crazy look in her eyes... it unsettled you. You managed to shake the image of them from your mind and focused on getting out of the rain.

As you walked back to your car, you noticed the red stains that were now stained into your uniform. Whatever. You would worry about it after you made it to work. Once you got into your car, the radio started talking about more and more unrest that had spread more and more through the streets. Your finger pressed the power off, "Enough of that." the news was just the same and you just knew that you had to deal with it first hand once you arrived at the station, it just made it worse.

In front of the parking garage for the RPD were several cars that seemed to have been in an accident. Your car couldn't go any further than where you were at, so you hopped out of the vehicle to walk the rest of the way. People dashed around the streets in a panic and it seemed as if it were the apocalypse. You tried to flag people down to stop them but they all ignored you. What the hell is going on?! When you entered the station, there was even more chaos. Officers ran around like wild and some seemed to be injured as well. You felt anxious and confused by everything that was going on. What had gone on in your brief time away?

Phones rang, people yelled, doors slammed, and everything soon overwhelmed you, you could feel yourself going into an overload. But a strong hand on your shoulder was a saving grace. "There you are, [L/N]!" it was Branagh and a brief look of relief washed across his face. "I left a stack of paperwork on your desk. Sort through it and then you're going out on patrol. Some crazy shit is going down..." he gave you a light push in the direction of your desk.

As you walked to the back of the office, you noticed the banner that was spread across the ceiling in blue and yellow.

"WELCOME LEON"

Your heart pumped in your chest and you could feel your skin begin to turn clammy. There was only one Leon that you know of that was a cop. The man that you shared a kiss with and so many more feelings... Leon -- Kennedy? Was he actually on his way here? He always told you that after the academy he would eventually come find you in the city and be your partner again. You thought that it was just a joke -- but now, it didn't seem that way. How could he come here without saying anything to you? No call? No email? Nothing?

Your eyes remained on the banner and you asked your co-worker who sat on the desk beneath it, "Hey, Rita. Who's this, Leon?" She didn't look up from her desk, "I dunno. Some new guy from out of town. Last name starts with a K or something like that. Ask Neil, I'm sure he knows." You could feel a knot in your stomach and you darted to your chair. The desk that was across from you was normally piled high with boxes of paperwork, but now it was cleared off. You leaned over the divider and snatched the piece of paper on the desk. Your eyes darted across the text:

"Leon S. Kennedy, we're putting you on a very special case for your first assignment. Your mission is to... unlock your desk! The key to your success is in the initials of our first names."

The note confirmed it. It was indeed that Leon. You plopped back into your seat and gnawed on the nail of your thumb. Your thoughts were now consumed as to how both Leon and yourself would react when he arrived. You could see it now...

He would laugh with the other officers as they shot the shit with him. He would be in the center of the group, they would slap him on the back and tell him how happy they were to have him on the force. His gaze would eventually land on you and he would excuse himself from them. Leon would smile and show off his perfect teeth. He'd saunter over and slowly shake his head, "I didn't expect to see you here, [F/N]."

You swallowed hard but your thoughts were interrupted when the sounds of glass shattered right outside of the office's door.

The chatter and hubbub in the office halted as everyone's attention turned toward the door.  An officer who wasn't much older than you rushed toward the noise, he couldn't make out exactly what it was from behind the glass of the door but drew his gun in preparation. He looked back at the office filled with you and your co-workers before opening the door slowly. "Hello?" he called out. His gun was pointed out into the hallway but found that there was nothing there. Then a sound of something you had never heard before or ever would forget echoed loudly in the empty hall.

It sounded like a monster, there was no other way to explain it. It pierced through your ears and then the sounds of the officer's shrieks shook your core. A loud gurgle erupted from his throat as he was tackled by a person onto the floor. This - person, dug their teeth deeply into his throat and proceeded to rip it out. Bright, red liquid sprayed from the wound across the floor. Two male officers threw themselves onto the assailant and tried their hardest to pull him off but soon were attacked as well. Gunshots blasted off in the office which then were accompanied by more sounds of broken glass. The assailant dropped dead beside the officers on the floor and everyone exchanged glances of pure terror.

"More are out there!" yelled Branagh as he held his weight against the door to stop any more of these "people" from killing everyone his subordinates. "Pistols aren't going to keep us alive for much longer," Rita cried out. "But Irons insisted we hide everything else away, remember!?" your fellow officers shouted at each other as tension rose - fear and panic began to set in.

"I know where some are," you piped up. "I have the keycard for the weapons locker," you reached into your shirt pocket and pulled out a white, plastic card. "Perks of being the newbie, I guess. I'll go." you walked toward the back door but stopped when Branagh barked at you, "You can't go alone!" You shook your head, "I will be right back, I promise." you disregarded his arguments and with a deep breath, opened the door and took off on your mission.

The hall was dark and quiet, the electricity must had been cut out in this section of town. You swallowed hard and with your pistol in on hand with the flashlight in the other, you took quiet yet brisk strides down the long stretch of hallway. All you could hear was the sounds of your bootsteps and the groans of those things that lurked just outside of the fences that kept the building somewhat safe. You needed these guns, no matter what. Or you and your co-workers would end up just like those officers - dead. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced which could be felt in your skull, "Easy girl," you spoke out, "Just a few doors and you'll be there."

Time was not on your side, so you took off in a sprint. The feeling of being so vulnerable next to a stretch of windows worried you as you could fall victim to whatever those things were at any time. They weren't exactly "things" they looked human and most likely were but maybe they were deranged with some sort of illness. But nonetheless, they were dangerous and deadly... Just as you feared, one of them crashed through the window. Their greedy palms reached for you over the broken glass and managed to snag you by your hair. You screamed in pain and terror as their strength pulled you in but when you pulled away, you only pulled them closer. Your pistol flew from your hands and slid across the floor, too far for you to reach.

Their bloody jaws snapped as they tried their hardest to sink their teeth into your soft flesh. You could feel their breath on your skin and you struggled but could feel your strength giving way to theirs. There was only one thing you could do and it was to grab the knife that was attached to the side of your right leg. Your fingertips were just barely able to reach the handle but with one quick lunge of your body, you grabbed hold of the weapon. The desire to survive charged your strength and you began to saw through the strands of your hair that were gripped tight in the clutches of the creature. Tears poured down the sides of your face as you sawed through the strands that were the barrier between you and certain death.

The creature was now halfway over the window and their hand still had your [h/c] hair in between their fingers, jaws still snapped at you as they begged to taste your flesh. You scrambled on all fours as you attempted to gather yourself so that you could press on. Your foot slipped on a large piece of broken glass which sent you across the floor, you then landed onto a large chunk of broken glass. The sharp piece embedded itself deep into your knee and you cried in pain as you held your leg close to your chest. The creature dug its nails into the tile floor and started to crawl toward you with dead eyes, and bloody teeth. You took several deep breaths as you prepared to yank the glass from your leg and with one last deep inhale, you yanked it out. You cried in pain but knew that you had to keep going, your muscle burned as it now was exposed to the air. You made sure to grab your pistol from the floor before you continued on.

Your sprint was now resorted to a quick limp but you managed to make it to the locker room. To your dismay, it was mostly empty besides a couple of shotguns and some ammunition. "Fuck! Fuck! This isn't enough!" you screamed as you pounded your fist against one of the lockers. Inside one of the open lockers was a weapons bag which you were able to fill with the lackluster amount of supplies. As you zipped up the bag, the metal door to the room opened and the sound drew your attention. Your pistol was ready and you limped around the corner to hide behind a row of lockers to hide from who or whatever it was. The room was dark but a flashlight flipped around the room, whoever it was, they were there to look for those guns or you. Your thumb slowly pulled the hammer back on the weapon and rounded the corner, "Stop right there!" you yelled.

It was a man and he seemed to be normal for the most part. He complied and raised his arms in the air. "Turn around!" Again, he complied and did a slow 180. Through the faint glow of his flashlight, your eyes caught a glimpse of a set of familiar moonstone pools.

"[Y/N]?!" his voice raised in shock. The entire city was faced with an apocalypse scenario or even the whole world for all you knew and the one person you run into is Leon -- Leon Kennedy.

He dropped his arms and grabbed hold of your, then pulled you into a tight hug. Leon smelled of sweat and cologne, the very cologne that you bought for him as a graduation gift. You breathed him in as it registered to you that this was real, he was really here. But you pulled away, "Leon, we have no time for chit chat. We gotta get moving, people need these guns!" you pointed to the bag that sat on the floor by your feet. As you tried to throw it over your shoulder, you winced in pain. "Here, let me get it." Leon attempted to take it from your hand but you paused before you surrendered the precious cargo, "I can trust you with this, right?" your grip was tight on the strap, "When have you ever doubted me?" he asked with a smile, "You don't want to know that..." your grip released as you responded but also pointed the fact that your leg was injured.

"Sorry to be a liability," you apologized, but Leon pulled you to his side, "Nonsense. I got this and you, just keep an eye out for zombies."

You led Leon down the hallway that you had your close brush with death in, the zombie, as Leon called it, was now gone. But when the two of you reached the door to the office, it was eerily quiet. Not a good sign. You pushed the door open to find the office void of any life, nothing but blood. Lots and lots of blood. Your heart hurt as you felt a pain in your chest, was everyone dead? The lifeless body of Rita laid on the floor with her eyes opened, her brown orbs were absent of the vibrant life she once had.

Tears welled in your eyes but as you turned to flee, you bumped into Leon's chest. A look of horror on Leon's face matched yours, "I-I left them not even an hour ago..." you cried into his shirt for a moment as he held you lightly with one arm. When you pulled away, you wiped your eyes and Leon took your hand from your face.

"I'm happy you're alive, [Y/N]," you examined your matured features and you did his. His hair grew a little longer than when you had seen him last and he examined your frazzled locks. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a door behind Leon opened and shut. A man walked out from the shadows and into the light, it was Branagh. He held onto his side and you could see he was injured with his shirt heavily stained with what was most likely his blood.

Leon pulled his pistol out and pointed it at your superior while he had a protective hand on your arm. Branagh coughed a wheezed laugh and shooed his gun out of his face. He looked over to you and smiled, "Good to see you're still breathing, [Y/N]." The Lieutenant approached your male companion and placed a bloody hand on his shoulder,

"You must be Leon Kennedy -- well, son, welcome to Raccoon City."

[unsaidholland]

roll with the feeling | h. holland

hey besties! this blurb was lowkey inspired by iii. telegraph ave. by childish gambino :) this has been in the works for a few months now but i hope you like it! 

warnings: none? reader is a bit of a bitch but it’s fine ig, rich kid!harry x reader au lolsies

“come over,” you said on the phone, and harry was instantly in the car and on his way. he was making dinner, but spending time with you was better than any dinner he could’ve made for himself, mainly because he was a shit cook. 

harry found himself speeding and almost running red lights just trying to get to you, but he still didn’t understand the hold you had on him. it was clear that there were feelings involved, but he wasn’t ready to settle down. that being said, he would do anything for you. whenever he’s at his house and he’s feeling lonely, he thinks about you. you were all that he wanted, but why wasn’t he ready to slow down?

with his hands at two and ten and his foot on the gas, harry found himself wishing away everything that was slowing his drive down. he never really minded the drive, but the more he thought about you, he wondered how bad settling down would be. maybe he wanted to die there with you - didn’t matter if it was of old age or being murdered in cold blood - but he realized if you were beside him everything would be okay. 

it was an odd type of love that he felt. harry couldn’t really describe it, but on the drive over to your place, he thought of things he never thought of before. harry never imagined growing old with you where you lived. you were only a town over, only thirty minutes away, but it never felt right. he was nervous knowing that if you asked him to stay with you forever in that tiny godforsaken town, harry would stay, because he’d do anything for you if you asked. 

the sound of the bell ringing at the train crossing suddenly made the ginger think about if the two of you got married. you both were still so young, he was sure it would’ve started something. he just couldn’t help but picture you in the white wedding dress, looking more like an angel than ever. he could see it all. the reception, the outfits, the first dance, everything. harry could picture you walking down the aisle, the biggest smile on both of your faces. maybe one day he would ask you to marry him, but he was sure that it wouldn’t be any time soon. he pushed the thought away as the rail lifted and he was able to drive through. 

headlights from the other cars passing shone in his eyes as they passed harry on the roads. though it was late on a weekday, the town was alive and bustling with people going into restaurants or coming out of shops. maybe the town wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t where harry wanted to die.

you were ready to settle down. you and harry had completely different visions for the next five or so years of your life, and he knew that, but that still wasn’t enough to stop him from coming over. you had completely different lifestyles, and he knew that too. he grew up with an absurd amount of money, he was lucky in that sense, but what really was luck? was harry actually lucky for being rich and having a vacation house somewhere on a beach? or was he lucky that his parents were always going on business trips, leaving him with his brothers and their nanny?

you were well off, sure, but nowhere near how well off harry was. your parents weren’t struggling to make ends meet, but as you went into uni there was a little bit of fear surrounding that, your parents just never showed it. 

the radio was playing some old bruno mars song that worked to fill the silence of the car. his phone went off, and as he glanced at it he saw that you had tweeted.

10 likes and i’ll drop everything and move away

you always did this, tweeted your feelings. why couldn’t you just say what you felt? why did harry have to always find out on social media? he thought that he felt the l-word towards you, but this always made him second guess if he wanted to stay involved with you.

the phone went off again.

imagine always coming over but not moving in w your gf despite all her hints, could not be me

you always did this. you always tweeted everything you for whatever reason couldn’t say to him, and he hated it. but he loved you.

he shook his head at the tweets before turning down another street. for whatever reason, he hated your stupid town. he hated the stupid people in your stupid town, and he hated how far you were from him, but he wouldn’t change anything. the drive wasn’t bad, but he loved you and that seemed to make up for everything. 

harry loved you and you loved him, but somehow that wasn’t enough. one day it would be, and harry was determined to show you that.

•••

the two of you laid in bed. you were wearing his shirt, and he was shirtless. sporting nothing but his grey sweatpants, you laid on harry’s bare chest just listening to his heartbeat.

thump thump, thump thump, thump thump

your mind drifted off to the relationship. you always did this. for one reason or another, you seemed to always analyze every little piece of it. out of habit, you looked at everything on the internet - what they were saying about you, about harry - which made your analyzing worse. you couldn’t bear to just believe that he was putting this much effort, but maybe the internet skewed you vision of a relationship. maybe the internet skewed your vision of harry. 

he was rich, you knew that. he still had a regular nine-to-five job, you knew that. but he had a huge house all to himself and a trust fund. he had an expensive audi that he drove around, and he had staff to take care of the house. how could you ever compete with anyone who ever had him? maybe you closed yourself off from him emotionally because of that. maybe all your insecurities - which caused all the fights and arguments - were because you were so sure that he deserved better. at the same time though, all you wanted was him and you knew that all he wanted was you.

your mind drifted off from analyzing and onto planning. the future seemed so uncertain, but you wanted harry there. you wanted harry with you when you bought a house together. you wanted to have kids with him, you wanted everything. you needed everything.

“do you think we’ll ever have kids together?” you blurted out. you wanted him to say yes so badly. you wanted him to tell you that he’s thought about the future with you, but a part of you wanted him to say no and you weren’t sure why.

“darling, i’ll marry you if that’s what you want. i’d do anything for you and with you.” 

you looked up at him and he showed no signs of telling a fib. you knew he wasn’t ready to settle down, and you knew that he hated your town, but it was clear he loved you more than that. 

“really?” 

“yeah, of course.” 

the moonlight shone in through the windows, barely lighting up the room. his arm around you pulled you in closer as his thumb began to rub circles into your hips. you shifted so you could leave a kiss on his cheek, the small intimate act showing more of your emotions than your words ever could. you felt safe with him, you felt at home.

“we’re turning thirty soon,” harry pointed out. 

“hmm?”

he shifted so he was on his side and facing you. as he was figuring out what to say, you studied his face. you looked at the faint freckles on his cheeks, the birthmark by his mouth, the fluttering of his eyelashes as he blinked. without even realizing it, your hand moved to cup his face as if it wanted to make sure he was real and that he was there.

“don’t you think we should settle down? get a house together? maybe you could move in or something, but i think it’s time baby, i really do.”

a sharp inhale. a deep exhale. repeat. 

were you ready for that? were you ready to start the rest of your life with him? 

“you don’t even have to move in with me, we can find a place here or something,” harry nervously rambled. your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about it more. were you ready? 

you could feel harry studying your expression. you could feel his eyes trace every line in your face, the way your eyes couldn’t meet his and stayed on his shoulder. he studied the way you started biting the inside of your cheek, and quickly cupped your face in his hand.

“i love you, and whatever you decide i’ll be there.” his thumb caressed your cheek and you immediately melted under his touch. 

you weren’t ready, but you would roll with it anyways. 

“let’s be roomies holland.”

-

harry holland taglist: @euphorichxlland

anything and everything taglist: @hollanderfangirl @hxrryhxlland @ohmy-moonlightx @hollandscherie @notsosmexy @writertoo18 @icyhollands @petersasteria @lehmehgeh @call-me-baby-gir1 @cosmiccaptian

[flamingfalcon3]

Hello! I have finally finished the first chapter of my first Jori fanfic. I’m still trying to get a feel for the character interactions but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it! I’m gonna start posting to ao3 once i get that account set up (and figure out a title lol) but I might as well post the first chapter here! Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Jade knew her girlfriend was hiding something. 

Tori was not a hard person to read. Hell, the girl practically wore her heart on her sleeve. It was so easy to guess what she was feeling at all times that Tori had all but given up trying to conceal her emotions. 

So, when Jade noticed that Tori was a bit more high-strung and stressed than usual, it wasn’t hard for her to conclude that there was something on her mind. 

It also helped that Tori was an awful liar. 

“What’s up with you?” Jade asked casually during lunch one afternoon.

“Nothing!” the singer squeaked suspiciously. She cleared her throat and attempted to regain composure. “Nothing is up. Everything is great!”

Jade frowned slightly, not at all convinced, but decided just to drop it for the time being as the rest of their friend group arrived at the table. 

The rest of the day was uneventful. Sikowitz made them all tapdance while performing a scene to “demonstrate how important it is to stay in character no matter what the character may be doing” or whatever and then spent the rest of the class monologuing about how a squirrel got trapped in his bathroom. 

Jade sighed a breath of relief as the final bell rang and cut Sikowitz off just as he was about to go into detail about the standoff he had with the rodent. The only one seemingly more anxious to get out of the classroom than Jade was her girlfriend, who was out the door before the bell even finished ringing. Their friends glanced at each other in confusion. 

“Maybe she really hates squirrels?” Robbie suggested. The others considered it for a moment before shrugging and forgetting about it a second later, exiting the classroom.

Jade strode over to Tori, who was frantically throwing books into her backpack from her locker. Jade leaned back against the locker next to Tori’s while folding her arms across her chest. 

“You’re in a hurry,” the goth commented while watching the girl struggle to cram a science textbook into her bag. 

“Jade!” Tori jumped slightly, seemingly startled by Jade’s presence.

“That’s me,” she responded dryly. “Did you forget about our date after school today?”

The singer’s eyes widened in realization and her hand flew to her forehead as she let out a groan

“Jade, oh my god, I am so sorry! I completely forgot!” she confessed, clearly feeling guilty she had forgotten they’d planned to have sushi after school ended.  

“It’s alright,” Jade replied coolly, quirking the corner of her mouth up slightly to convey to Tori she wasn’t upset with her. “What’s got you in such a rush anyway?��

Tori paused for a moment, staring down at her converse.

“Oh, umm… I promised my mom I would help her with… something,” she mumbled.

“Something…?” Jade probed, hoping to get a little more context on what had her girlfriend so worked up. Tori, however, would not offer her any.

“It’s not important. I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Tori slung her bag over her shoulder before stepping towards Jade and planting a short but sweet kiss to her lips. She then turned and began walking towards the exit. 

“You better! I can’t have people think I got stood up!” Jade called out after her, earning a hearty laugh from her girlfriend as she left the building. 

The goth rolled her eyes, amused by Tori’s refusal to admit what it was she was helping her mother with. It must be super embarrassing or something. 

Jade was halfway through entering her locker combination when she remembered something that gave her pause.

Tori’s parents were out of town for the week. Trina had a showcase and they needed an excuse not to show up. Why would she need to help her mom with something if-?

Jade’s phone lit up with a message from Tori directed towards the group chat, asking if anyone could lend her $100 bucks. The goth furrowed her brows. Tori rarely asked for money, and never more than $10 dollars at a time.

Tori Vega, what the hell are you up to? 

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

All Jade could think about for the rest of the day was how strange her girlfriend was acting. She wasn’t responding to her text messages and apparently none of their friends had heard from her either. It wasn’t like Tori at all, and Jade’s curiosity was slowly turning into concern. 

She knew it was silly to be worried. Tori was a big girl, after all. Still, why would she need $100 bucks on such short notice? And what was with her skittish and secretive attitude? 

Maybe she was in trouble with someone. Maybe she needed to pay them money in order to keep them at bay. 

The thought was so absurd that Jade almost burst out laughing as soon as it entered her mind. This is Tori she was talking about. Miss “I have never stayed out past curfew” Vega. Not exactly the type to get tangled up in criminal activity.

Still, Jade couldn’t help but feel uneasy about Tori’s radio silence. It wouldn’t hurt to pay her a visit, right?

15 minutes later she was climbing through her girlfriend’s bedroom window, which Tori for some reason always kept unlocked. Tori wasn’t there, but her backpack was on her bed and her phone was on her desk. Jade let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as she sank down onto the bed. Not 10 seconds later she heard the sound of footsteps and the bedroom door creaked open. In walked Tori who jumped five feet in the air and shrieked upon seeing someone in her room.

“Jade?” Tori yelped. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my texts,” the goth deadpanned. 

“So you broke into my house?” 

“I didn’t break in. Your window was unlocked,” 

“That’s still breaking in!”

“Is it really, though?”

“Yes!” 

Jade was about to argue further when she noticed Tori was holding a grocery bag, and its contents looked quite heavy based on how far the bottom was sagging. 

“Whatcha got there?” She asked, gesturing towards the bag. Tori glanced at it quickly before fixing her gaze back on Jade. 

“Just some stuff for a science project,” she stated, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Tori,” Jade huffed. “We are in the same science class. We’re lab partners. We don’t have a science project.”

Tori stammered helplessly, trying and failing to come up with some explanation for what was in the bag. Jade groaned in annoyance, fed up with whatever game her girlfriend was playing.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what’s going on! You know it doesn’t matter what it is since my opinion of you can’t get any low-” Jade was interrupted by a strange noise coming from somewhere in the room. She immediately turned to locate the source of the sound.  

Tori could only watch helplessly as the goth scoured every inch of her room before finally tearing open the doors to her closet. A tiny fuzzy creature emerged from the darkness. And then another. And then another. They kept emerging from the closet until there were seven tiny kittens of various colors and patterns wandering around the room. 

Jade slowly looked back up at her girlfriend, confusion written all over her face.

“How-how did those get in there?” Tori stammered, trying her very best to feign ignorance as all the kittens ran towards her meowing hungrily. 

Unfortunately her “very best” still wasn’t very good. 

“Tori, why were there cats in your closet?” Jade asked, still absolutely bewildered by the scene that was unfolding. 

The singer realized there was no way she could talk her way out of this one, and just gave her girlfriend a guilty look before opening her mouth.

“Remember last week when there was that sudden downpour in downtown Los Angeles?” Jade nodded. “Well, I was walking home from Nozu’s when I heard strange noises coming from an alleyway. I went to check to see what it was and-”

“Wait, you heard strange noises coming from an alleyway in downtown Los Angeles at night and you went to go check it out?” Jade asked incredulously. Jesus, Jade doesn’t know how her girlfriend has managed to survive for this long considering her self-preservation instincts were non-existent. Tori just rolled her eyes in response.”

“As I was saying, I went to go check out what the strange noises were and… well,” she turned to look at the kittens scampering around her bedroom. 

Jade brought her hand up to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“So let me get this straight, you wandered into a back alley while it was raining and found kittens and decided the best thing to do would be to take them home?” Jade was still bewildered by her girlfriend. 

“Well when you put it that way it sounds like a stupid idea,” Tori blushed while avoiding eye contact. Jade sighed but took a step closer to her. 

“I mean, I always assumed you would be one of those lesbians who would have like ten cats but I thought that would start after you moved out of your parents’ house,” she smirked. 

“Hey!” Tori let out a mock-offended gasp while swatting Jade’s arm playfully. “I mean, I probably will have to move out once they come home and discover I’ve been hiding kittens in my room despite my father being deathly allergic to them.”  

Why was Jade attracted to such a moron? 

“Can’t you just give them to a shelter or something?” she asked gently. Tori shook her head softly.

“I thought about it but the pounds are apparently really full this time of year so there’s a significant possibility that they'll get…” Tori paused, unable to even finish the thought. “It’s just… they’ve been through so much in the short few weeks they’ve been alive and I can’t just abandon them now!”

Stupid Tori and her stupid heart of gold. The goth groaned and tilted her head back.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll help you with you’re dumb kitten problem,” Jade’s heart fluttered a little as she watched Tori’s face lit up like a christmas tree. 

“Really?” She gleamed. “How?”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who would be interested in adopting tiny kittens. Especially if you go into detail about their tragic backstory and stuff. People are suckers for that kind of stuff,” Jade stated. “You could like, advertise them on The Slap and try to get them adopted before your parents come back.”

Tori chewed at her bottom lip, contemplating Jade’s suggestion.

“That’s… not a bad idea. People advertise things on The Slap all the time,” she hesitated for a moment and her face fell. “Ugh, wait. Trina follows me. If she finds out I’m hiding kittens in my closet she’ll rat me out for sure.” 

Jade closed her eyes and sighed deeply. God, she can’t believe she was about to say this.

“I guess… I could… post about the kittens on my page, or whatever,” she grimaced. Tori’s grin got so wide Jade was concerned her face was about to split in half. 

“You would do that for me?” she exclaimed. “But, your reputatio-”

“My reputation died as soon as I changed my status to ‘in a relationship with Tori Vega’,” Jade snorted. “Kittens would be nowhere near as embarrassing as you.”

Tori was beaming at her girlfriend despite the insult, chuckling lightly as she wrapped her arms around Jade’s neck and peppering her face with soft kisses before finally connecting their lips. The goth let out a content sigh in the back of her throat and attempted to deepen the kiss while pushing Tori backwards to the bed. However, Tori hummed and broke the kiss leaving Jade more than a little confused. 

“Sorry, I-” the singer stammered. “I would feel weird making out in front of…” 

Jade quirked her eyebrows up in amusement.

“In front of… the cats?” she asked, barely suppressing a laugh. Tori nodded, cheeks red with embarrassment. Jade just chuckled and rested her forehead against her girlfriend’s. 

“Jesus Christ, Tori.”

[mymoodwriting]

Anomaly

F!Reader x EXO

Genre: Angels/Demons AU

Warning: None

Words: 2.1K

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Epilogue

Prompt: You grew up in a happy home despite being abandoned as a child. Or at least it was happy until one revelation starts shinning a light on all the questionable things that surrounded your family. That is if they ever had your best interest at heart.

“So… you’re fallen angels?”

“Yup.”

    Winter showed off her wings, shaking them a bit so you could see all the fluffy feathers. Her wings were beautiful, and it was nice to see them up close without worrying about a fight going on.

“I can’t believe you… exist…”

“You’re the actual miracle here. My kind can exist far easier than you.”

“So what happened? How did you… fall?”

“Heaven is full of rules, and if you break those you’re out.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Yup.”

“What did you do?” You slapped a hand over your mouth. “Sorry, that’s not my business…”

“It’s alright. I just got involved in human affairs I wasn’t supposed to.”

“You were helping people?”

“More or less.”

“And they kicked you out for that?”

“Like I said, heaven has strict rules.”

“It doesn’t sound like such a nice place.”

“Not for me, but for you it’s still paradise.”

“For me?”

“You’re half human, so you have a soul that can go up to heaven if your time ever comes.”

“I never thought of that.”

“And don’t worry about it, you still have so much to do with your life. We can show you all kinds of magic you can do, and help you with your powers.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we’re kinda like family.”

“Right, you were once angels.”

“I don’t miss it, so don’t feel bad. I can’t wait to see what you can do.”

♥♥♥♥♥

    While you were chatting with the other girls, Xiumin had stepped into another room with Karina. There was warding all over the place for protection and to prevent eavesdropping, so they could speak freely.

“Now you better tell me why you brought a nephilim to my domain, and don’t leave out any details.”

    There was no reason to lie, about anything, so Xiumin told the truth. He told Karina how he found you, why he kept you, and what had been going on the last few weeks.

“… that’s… touching… but you’re also crazy, you know that?”

“I do.”

“By taking in a nephilim you painted a target on your back.”

“Perhaps, but things are different, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the angels really wanted her dead, they already had multiple chances. It’s concerning, since it means they’re not trying to kill her, but capture her.”

“Angels not hunting nephilim… that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not, and I have no idea what they’re planning.”

“Heavens changed. They’ve been losing power over the decades. When an angel dies power is lost, and they can’t regain their numbers like other creatures.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I think… angels suddenly trying to take a nephilim alive means they’re hunting for power.”

“Power?”

“I’ve lost contact with some of my fallen brothers and sisters. It’s not like them to go radio silent like this, we’re all bonded by our choices, by what we are, and this has only made me worry.”

“You guys are one of the few who can take on angels, and archangels. It’d make sense they’d crack down on hunting you.”

“That’s not it. All angels are connected by divine power. They can communicate across the globe with one another, and when one dies they all feel it. Despite being a fallen, that type of connection still exists, just separate from the angels, with that said… I haven’t felt a death.”

“So the angels are taking fallen too. That’s very risky, and to what end?”

“Purification.”

“What?”

“I was an angel once, divinity still exists within me. I could be purified and return to heaven.”

“You can what!”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, the process takes a lot of power, and comes at a cost. It was used way back then, when angels had more wiggle room to rebel, and the rebels didn’t do such drastic things.”

“What happens if you are purified?”

“Burning pain that cleanses you of evil, body and mind. If you’ve ever seen a quiet little angel that’s the definition of a good soldier, chances are they’ve been purified. The process destroys the mind, capable of turning an archangel into a perfectly obedient weapon. If the angels really are going after power, it’s a smart move to start collecting fallen and increasing their numbers.”

“Fuck.”

“I don’t like it either, but this is just a theory.”

“Too much makes sense if it’s not.”

“Nothing’s confirmed, but we all need to be on guard. If angels really are gathering power, using these methods, they must be planning something.”

“Then let’s not panic the others and keep this to ourselves.”

“Do the rest of your kind know about y/n?”

“Yes.”

“I’m talking in regards to the angels hunting her.”

“No, they don’t know about that, and I rather not reveal it either.”

“Why not? This information can save them, save her.”

“I brought her here cause she needs help, she needs to control her powers. Unless she truly believes her life is in danger, she won’t work hard to master her abilities.”

“Your motives are still cruel. She’s only known the truth about her existence for a few months now, and she believes she’s being hunter simply because she lives. Divine power or not, she is still human, and a child at that, I can’t imagine the psychological toll this is taking.”

“This is for her own sake, for now.”

“I hope so.”

♥♥♥♥♥

“Wow…”

    Seeing Winter and Giselle go at it in training was like a dream. They had their wings out, weapons engulfed in black flames. They were good, and seeing how different their fighting style was compared to how you’ve been training, you were excited to learn. Of course they wanted to see what you can do, so a little one-on-one was called for. You were nervous but also determined to show them you weren’t an easy target. Giselle still wiped the floor with you.

“You got potential.” Giselle helped you up. “So that’s good, we don’t need to start from scratch.”

“I feel like I still have to.”

“Demons fight differently, more focused on getting up close and being aggressive. With your power, you don’t need to do that.”

“You were fighting with your wings earlier, is that something we can do?”

“Yeah. I know they might seem fragile now, but they’ll get stronger and then you can use them as a weapon and a shield. Check this out.” Giselle plucked a feather from her wings, showing it to you. “We’re never really defenseless as our feathers can become sharp as blades when plucked.”

“Really? That’s crazy… do you know if I have a halo?”

“I wouldn’t think so, given that comes from real divinity and you’re a nephilim.”

“Oh, I see… you had a halo once, right?”

“It’s not as cool as you might think. Besides, it’s not that unique.” Giselle created what looked like a halo with black flames. “You can mimic the design easily, I’ll show you when we get there.”

“And you have black fire.”

“Yup. Low level demons, black and yellow eyed, tend to wield regular fire, a red eyed demon wields red fire, angels have white, and fallen have black. It helps distinguish power levels, although the fire can always be normal too, but I like the black, it has a nice flair.”

“White? I thought it was gold?”

“As a nephilim, I suppose yours is gold.”

“Really?” 

“You’re unique after all. Come on, there’s something else we can show you.”

    Despite this place being a club on the first two floors, the other two were where these girls called home. Giselle took you up to the library, Ningning greeting you both.

“The books here are very old.” Ningning informed. “So I would ask you to be careful.”

“How old are they?”

“Very old, and very uncommon. The demons aren’t allowed in here as a lot of these books talk about divine power.”

“You mean… angel stuff?”

“Yup. Because of the divine energy you have, there’s a certain type of magic you can wield. There are special runes for you that can heal you and make you stronger.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I’ve learned a lot about runes from the guys, but I could never use any.”

“The ones in these books you can.”

♥♥♥♥♥

    The others had remained down in Karina’s office, not allowed to go up with you. They weren’t eager to let you go off alone, but they knew the fallen weren’t enemies. Although you eventually came down as Karina and Xiumin were both looking for you. It made you a bit nervous, cutting into all your previous excitement. 

“I think it’s best if you stay.” Karina said. “I’m told you have some control over your powers, but you need special training only we can give you.”

“I understand that… but I don’t want the others to leave.”

“Hm…”

“They’re my family, and I wouldn’t be alive today if not for them.”

“I don’t exactly like the idea of having demons around, but if you pull your weight around the club, I’ll consider that as you all paying for your stay.”

“That sounds fair.” Xiumin said. “Deal.”

“Ya! We’re not gonna talk about this?” Kai questioned. “Since when do you decide on your own?”

“We have nowhere else right now, besides, y/n needs to stay and if she wants us to stay as well, that’s the least we can do.”

    It might have been annoying at first, but they all got used to it. Being at a club wasn’t so bad, although only the young ones enjoyed the dance floor. You started some proper training, learning more about your powers, and studying some new runes. Even though this was serious, the girls never wanted to hurt you too bad. They were no longer angels, but they still saw you as one of their own, and a special one at that. Although Karina always kept a close eye on you, keeping to Xiumin’s word about secrecy in regards to heaven.

    The boys were happy that you were happy, feeling more at home in such a place, feeling like you really belonged. For once you felt like you could really hold your own against the guys, and maybe one day actually kick their ass. You had the most fun learning how to control and manipulate your fire. It was crazy how you had this power within you and never used it before, not until that other night. Suho was very proud to see you make some real progress, feeling more at ease knowing you’d be able to take care of yourself if worse came to worse, but there were still secrets that had yet to be revealed.

“She’s doing good.”

    Karina joined Xiumin up on the second floor balcony, watching the dancing crowds below. A club like Kwangya was a good place to hide out, everyone who came in was screened, and obviously no angels allowed. Although seeing all these different creatures around could complicate things as well.

“She’s a fast learner.” Xiumin added. “I’m glad you approve.”

“Xiumin.”

“Hm?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“I should have mentioned this before, but you already dropped so much on me I needed to process.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back when I was an angel… I remember a nephilim being born…”

“I’ve known you for longer than y/n has existed.”

“I wasn’t talking about her.”

“What?”

“Decades ago… one was born… I felt it… but I never felt it die, not before I fell.”

“Maybe it died after you fell?”

“At least three decades passed and there was no death. At first I thought maybe the child had been hidden, like what you did with y/n, but we both know that can’t last. Eventually they come into their power and hiding them becomes impossible. It’s only because they’re half human that they’re not directly connected with angels, but divine power can sense divine power.”

“So you think, another nephilim is alive?”

“It didn’t really occur to me now, not until you brought her to me and told me she’s not being sought after to die. The same could have happened before.”

“If heaven is really making a power play after all this time.” Xiumin pondered. “It would make sense they’d recruit nephilim instead of killing them.”

“That’s not my biggest concern.”

“What do you mean?”

“At best, there are two nephilim in this world. If the other is male, it means the two can mate.”

“Excuse me!”

“It’s a possibility, you can’t deny that. They’re both part human, meaning it’s a possibility, and is another way heaven can increase their power.”

“She’s just a kid.”

“Who’s growing up not knowing the truth.” Karina stared at the crowds, finding familiar faces and friends down below. “I’m just as worried as you are, but for different reasons.”

“What are you thinking?”

“She has to fall.”

[fantasyandromancelover]

Candyman AU

This is a favor for someone who’s planning on writing this fic in September and I’m just helping develop hype for it by writing out the plot.

Charlie Magne is a graduate student in journalism who is constantly belittled, taken advantage of, and pushed around by a number of people in her life including her mentor Professor Pentious, her boss Katie a reporter who is the definition of yellow journalism and her perverted camera man Tom, even her fiance Seviathan Von Eldritch who's also a professor. Only her friend Vaggie treats her with any kind of respect or decency.

One day Charlie learns of several murders in downtown New Orleans and decides to do a report on them with Vaggie. They question some of the residents but the only one who seems to know anything is Anthony "Angel Dust" a private drug dealer who reveals to the ladies (In exchange for a little money of course) that the one responsible for the killings was "The Deer Demon" a blood thirsty apparition that can only be summoned by saying his name five times while playing his favorite song Come Sweet Death on the radio and once he arrives he kills those who have summoned him. Though both doubt him, Vaggie is frightened by this while Charlie is strangely intrigued. Angel then tells them to talk to local tendent Rosie Crawford because she was a neighbor to one of the victims.

They interview Rosie who's the single mother of a baby son and she tells them that she only heard the murder, that she didn't see anything. However she warns them both not to meddle in things they don't understand which makes Charlie suspect that Rosie knows more than she's letting on.

 After this Vaggie suggests that they find a different topic but Charlie remains determined and decides to try to summon the Deer Demon to prove to her scared friend and Angel that he's not real. She plays Come Sweet Death on her radio and calls out Deer Demon five times. Nothing happens thus convincing Vaggie and Angel he's not real.

But the next day when Charlie is on her way to meet Professor Pentious the Deer Demon appears, he tells her how angry and upset he is with her for trying to disprove his existence. Charlie is afraid but at the same time entranced and for some reason tearful at the sight of him. For some reason though he chooses not to kill her like he normally does with those who call his name but instead makes her faint and kills Pentious. When he confronts her again he reveals to her that her punishment will not be death but guilt as he intends to kill people in her life, telling her that they would be alive if only she had not trifled with him. At that moment Vaggie arrives to check on Charlie and the Deer Demon prepares to make her his next victim.

Charlie pleads with him to spare her and promises to do anything to make up for what she's done. He then strikes a deal with her, he tells her the reason he does not want his legend destroyed is because it's the only thing keeping him from moving on to the afterlife and he refuses to cross over until he reclaims what was stolen from him in life. So the deal is if Charlie can figure out what was stolen from him and bring it back to him then he'll ceases his blood shedding ways. But until then he will continue killing and if she fails then he will save Vaggie for last.

So Charlie starts to dig into the Deer Demon’s past to find out what he lost as one by one he murders the people she knows which is pretty much everyone who's mistreated her so far. Upon doing her research she learns of his tragic backstory.

 In life the Deer Demon a.k.a  Alastor Le Rouge was the son of a white man and a slave woman. He had an interesting talent as a hunter, this lead to him being a Taxidermist to make trophies for the highest bidder. One day he was commissioned by a very wealthy landowner to make a trophy out of a prize lion he killed in Africa, but the wealthy landowner wasn’t alone. He had a daughter the most beautiful young woman in all of New Orleans. Of course, they fell deeply in love and she became pregnant. The father executed a terrible revenge on the taxidermist, he paid a bunch of drunken hooligans to do the job. They chased him just outside of New Orleans where they pinned him down, cut off his right hand with a rusty blade, and replaced it with a deer antler. But his torment wasn’t over yet, a pack of hungry wolves came to him and tore the flesh from his bones with their sharp teeth as he bled in agony. No one came to his aid except for the young woman he loved who screamed and cried for him slowly dying while looking at her eyes. He died for love.

This causes Charlie’s fear of Alastor to slowly vanish and in it’s place feel a deep compassion for him. This allows Alastor to seduce Charlie as she finds herself becoming more and more drawn to him for reasons she cannot understand. This desire only grows as Seviathan continues to belittle her and suddenly neglects her. Leaving the Deer Demon to ensnare her insecure and under appreciated heart with sweet words of admiring her beauty and cherishing her goodness forever.

Later she learns from Angel that Rosie's son is missing and she is quick to figure out that it was Alastor who took him. She asks him about stealing the baby but he replies that he is only reclaiming what should have been his. When she questions what he means by that, he merely chuckles that she'll figure it out soon enough. She goes back to Rosie's apartment to tell her what happened and to her surprise not only does Rosie believe her but she reveals to Charlie that Alastor Le Rouge was in fact her great, great, great, great, great, great, grandfather. She shows her some old pictures of him from when he was alive along with her other ancestors and Charlie notices that the young woman he was involved with bears a striking resemblance to her.

Charlie goes to confront Alastor in his makeshift lair where she finds more pictures of the landowner’s daughter underneath a carved phrase "It was always you Charlie." She then realizes that she's the reincarnation of Alastor's lover and he appears to tell her that when she died her soul did not meet him in the afterlife so he had to sustain himself on earth until she came back to him. He tells Charlie that he cannot move on until he has the wife and child that was stolen from him in life. That he wants Charlie and his infant descendant to join him in death as a family. He tells her that he loves her, urges her to accept that she loves him, and to come with him. Charlie is horrified but can no longer deny the truth so she confesses that she loves him even after all he's done. That she loves him now as much as she did in her past life. But she refuses to die with him because she feels that she can't leave this life and that she also loves Seviathan. Alastor angrily tells her she is not happy with this life, that she's been living in denial of her misery, and that Seviathan could never truly love her. She is not convinced and pleads with him to give back Rosie's child. But he just silently vanishes.

Confused and not sure what she wants, she goes to visit Seviathan only to find him having an affair with one of his students. Charlie finally let's loose the inner rage that has been built up by the years of being pushed around and starts to wreck his apartment. He calls the police and has her committed to a psychiatric hospital. When the doctors prepare to use shock therapy on her she calls for Alastor who appears to kill the doctors and cut her restraints. She flees from the hospital with the police following her and manages to evade them by going downtown.

She hears crying coming from a junk pile and discovers that's where Alastor has hidden Rosie's son. She goes inside to retrieve him but the residents assume that she's the Deer Demon so they set fire to the junk pile. Angel, Vaggie, and Rosie realize that Charlie is in there and try desperately to stop the bonfire but no one can hear them over the cheering. With Rosie's son safe in her arms, Charlie attempts to crawl out of the burning pile but suffers many burns and can barely move. Alastor appears one last time to push Charlie out of the flames while apologizing for hurting her for all he ever wanted was to be with her again and promises to cease to exist after this. Charlie manages to reach her arms out of the pile and hand the child to Rosie but then chooses to die in the fire with her love. Vaggie and Angel frantically try to pull her back out but by the time they reach her she has already died from her severe burns.

Seviathan gets a call confirming Charlie’s death, becoming grief-stricken and guilt-ridden he listens to Charlie's favorite song on the radio and says her name five times. Charlie and Alastor's vengeful spirits both appear for one last "hunt" and kill Seviathan, leaving his body to be found by his student lover.

Afterward, Angel, Vaggie, Rosie, and the remorseful residents all pay their respects at her funeral and gratitude for riding them of the Deer Demon by helping Alastor find peace at last. When the funeral was over everybody leaves except for Vaggie who stays behind a little bit longer to say her final goodbye to her dear best friend by calling her name five times as well. Charlie’s spirit appears to her but only to say goodbye as she has now been reunited with the spirit of her long suffering lover and daughter. Vaggie then tearfully watches the family ascend into heaven together and is left with comfort.

[nightcoremoon]

the audacity of people who listen to a band’s breakout mainstream hit from their fourth album and say “they’re not metal they’re pop” is ludicrous to me

five finger death punch had three albums that were most definitely classifiable as metal before the wrong side of heaven hit, and people took one look at the music video and decried them as dudebro pop

avenged sevenfold had a hardcore punk album, then a metalcore album, then a heavy metal album, then an alternative metal album, and then nightmare dropped which had so far away and buried alive which lead people to decry them as dad rock and then wrestlemetal after they were in black ops 2, then they became a prog rock band BECAUSE JIMMY WAS FUCKING DEAD. that’s like getting mad that …and justice for all had no bass since it was right after cliff died… wait shit-

ghost has had several albums out, albums that have metal songs on them. oh but they got popular on the radio so that means they’re shitty pop. metallica, nine inch nails, ozzy, soundgarden, RATM, tool, deftones, korn, slipknot, they’re all in the same boat, all grammy winners, all well deserving of the honor, all metal (or metal-adjacent, but to be fair chris cornell’s never been pigeonholed to one genre in any band he’s ever been in). all shit on by opinionated dickheads.

motorhead, slayer, judas priest, iron maiden, tenacious d, mastodon, and obviously Black Sabbath, well, nobody would EVER speak against those bands. even though ghost legit fits right next to all of them. look me in the eyes and tell me that ghost wouldn’t fucking open for Black Sabbath. ESPECIALLY SINCE FUCKING POPPPY IS METAL NOW TOO.

(also holy shit body count won this year, good for you ice t)

and for good measure, fuck it. faith no more, queensryche, anthrax, megadeth, suicidal tendencies, helmet, ministry, white zombie, public enemy (with anthrax, but hey hip hop and heavy metal have always been best friends, again, just look at ice t), rollins, gwar, alice cooper, corrosion of conformity, rammstein, marilyn manson, system of a down, pod, stone sour, cradle of filth, hatebreed, killswitch engage, mudvayne, shadows fall, lamb of god, as I lay dying, king diamond, machine head, dragonforce, dream theater, volbeat, sevendust, gojira, periphery, august burns red, code orange, meshuggah, between the buried and me, deafheaven, trivium, underoath, candlemass, death angel, I prevail, in this moment… these are also all in the same boat. close enough to metal to count. unless you wanna argue with the fucking grammys. you wanna dispute ghost? okay.

dispute mike patton. dispute mike muir. dispute rob zombie. dispute chuck d. dispute marc hudson. go on. I dare you.

you know if this was two decades prior, people would’ve said pantera was pop after cowboys from hell dropped because domination’s breakdown is just —- —- —- —- / —- —- —- and cemetary gates is a ballad (never mind that vulgar display of power was soon to come, a triumph of the 90s, and the four albums they did before cowboys WERE FUCKING GLAM ROCK). they would’ve said type o negative was sellout pop because they covered summer breeze for a teenybopper horror movie with leonard from the big bang theory in it. they would’ve said rage against the machine were unoriginal sellouts because they did covers of cypress hill, springsteen, and fucking devo. but with the advent of the internet they can now say whatever stupid shit will make other people on the internet give them gold stars for saying the right thing.

fuck them though. sorry you hate fun and love and joy. I’m gonna have a good time listening to ghost though. because I love metal. in all its shapes and forms.

it doesn’t have to be fucking testament behemoth exodus sabaton ensiferum korpiklaani opeth carnifex dethklok or dio just to “count” as metal.

THERE, DID I “EARN” MY “RIGHT” TO AN OPINION FROM THE YOUTUBE COUNCIL OF METAL OVERLORDS???

[caffeinerem]

RadioHuskerDust fic

AN: Hi, I decided to write my first individual Hazbin Hotel fic. This fic is on the poly ship of RadioHuskerDust / Alastor X Husk X Angel Dust. I apologize if any of them are out of character. Anyways I hope you enjoy the fic. 

Summary: Months had passed since Alastor had started helping with the hotel. He had always claimed that he only stayed for his own enjoyment and would leave whenever he wished. However he found himself getting more attached to the hotel and the staff there, specifically Husk and Angel Dust. 

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

Six months, four weeks, five days, thirteen hours, thirty two seconds and counting. That is how long the radio demon had been helping manage Hazbin Hotel. Alastor hadn’t expected to find as much enjoyment as he did helping with this project. However as time had gone on, he found that he was enjoying being there and specifically growing closer to the staff there. He helped Charlie come up with ideas on the development of the hotel and occasional song development for fun, he helped Nifty with tidying up and sometimes took over the cleaning duties so she could rest, he even started helping Vaggie with the reputation of the hotel. Though the two that he spent the most time around were Husk and Angel Dust. 

Even before the hotel, Alastor always had a bit of a soft spot for Husk. He considered the cat demon to be one of his closest friends and it had been that way for some time. Then Angel Dust came bursting into the radio demon’s life. At first Alastor found Angel rather sex-driven and overly flirtatious. However over time, Alastor got to know Angel better and eventually developed another soft spot this time for the spider demon. Alastor became closer to both of them and enjoyed their company most out of the others at the hotel. He couldn’t quite understand why he had found more enjoyment being with them but he didn’t question much of it. 

Only a few others were surprised when Angel and Husk started dating. The two fit together very well despite being almost opposites in personality. They helped and cared for each other through their issues and pain. The other staff members grew to support the relationship as they saw how it was helping both of them. Especially Alastor who was the most supportive. Though he was surprised how not much changed after that. Angel and Husk still invited the radio demon along to their outings many times as they usually would. Alastor continued to grow closer to the two and supported them. Though what he didn’t realize at first was that they spent more time with him than with the others. He didn’t know this until one day at the hotel.

Alastor was helping Charlie brainstorm new activities for the hotel. The princess of hell was starting to assign different roles to the staff members when she stopped and smiled. “Charming demon belle, I must inquire as to what has caught your thoughts.” The radio demon spoke up with curiosity. 

“Well when I was figuring out the roles I realized I had instinctively put you, Angel, and Husk all together. Since you three have been spending so much time together.” Charlie replied with an even bigger smile. 

“That is true though they often spend time with everyone.” Alastor remarked.

“Yeah but not as much as with you. The three of you have become like three peas in a pod.” Charlie giggled at her own reference. 

This had made Alastor have to step back and ponder the words. The more he thought about it the more he realized that Charlie had been right. He had seen Angel and Husk with the others before but not nearly as much as he had been with them. Though he wasn’t sure why they were choosing to spend more with him then the others. He made a mental note to ask them about it later. For now though he focused on helping Charlie. 

That later time had become the next day as Alastor hadn’t seen them until then. He had been heading to his office in the hotel when he noticed Angel and Husk at the bar together. The radio demon paused for a moment as he remembered his conversation with Charlie. He decided to bring it up and walked into the room. 

“Dusty! Husker! My good friends. How are you on this fine day?” Alastor greeted them as he strolled over to the bar, taking a seat beside Angel. 

“I’m doing just fine, Strawberry. I was just telling Kitty here how I’ve been amazing on the new pole the club has.” Angel spoke.

“You were also saying that there should be a pole here but there’s no way in hell that Charlie or Vaggie is gonna agree to that shit.” Husk remarked from behind the bar.

“That is true as they barely agreed to this bar. I will take your word for your pole dancing skills though.” Alastor replied.

There was a comfortable silence after that as Husk started looking through the different bottles and Angel was checking social media. At this point Alastor decided to bring up the main point he wished to ask them.

“Well I was meaning to ask you two about something. Earlier I was discussing ideas with Charlie when she had mentioned how us three had been spending a lot of time together. I agreed that we had but I suppose I didn’t realize exactly how much. Now I very much enjoy the company of both of you. However I wonder why you two enjoy my company as usually others don’t. The usual reaction to my company is fleeing. Yet you two seem to enjoy it. May I ask why?” Alastor inquired.

Angel Dust and Husk turned to look at each other and seemed to have this silent conversation. After a few moments they both turned back to face Alastor.

“I’ll be honest, sugar, when I first met ya I thought you were a smiling creepy weirdo ‘cause that it seemed like and everyone kept saying it. Now though you’re honestly an alright guy. You’re fucked up but so is everyone else here. You care about others and this place even if you got a weird way of showing it. So yeah I like having you around and I like ya.” Angel spoke with sincerity. 

“I can agree. I know you and I haven’t always gotten along due to a lot of shit but you’re better than a lot of demons in hell. I always thought I couldn’t love but that changed after being here. I care about Angel and I care about you. I know that is true.” Husk remarked.

Alastor sat there for a few minutes as he processed the words. He had become so used to people fleeing and avoiding him. So now he wasn’t sure what to make of the two’s confession of actually liking and caring about the radio demon. His gaze went back and forth between Angel and Husk for a bit before he stood up and looked away. 

“I need to think.” Alastor managed to speak before walking out of the room and heading to his office.

Time passed much later and Alastor had stayed in his office since then. His mind could barely come to a clear stream of thought as his focus kept directing back to the conversation earlier. The way Angel and Husk had spoken to him was full of such sincerity with looks of possible fondness like how they looked at each other. No no he shouldn’t think that way. Though he just can’t seem to let go of that thought. The thought of being with them in possibly more than a friendly way. He tried to insist that he shouldn’t think that way but his mind wouldn’t listen. Polyamory wasn’t new to hell after all. However Alastor never thought he was one for it. He had been in relationships when he was alive but it didn’t feel like how he was feeling now. 

There was a pause as Alastor let out a long sigh. He knew that in order to clear his thoughts he had to go back and talk with Angel and Husk again. A glance at the time told him that the two were likely in their shared room due to the curfew that Charlie insisted on. He went out of his office and strolled down the hallways before eventually stopping at a room. He paused for a moment before giving three precise knocks with a slight rhythm, a habit he had developed. 

A few minutes passed with no response and Alastor began to wonder if they were asleep. Then the door finally swung open to reveal a sleepy looking Angel Dust. 

“Al?” Angel mumbled out as he rubbed his eyes.

“Is that Alastor?” A familiar gruff voice was heard from the room before Husk also appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry for disturbing you two. I just wished to discuss what occurred earlier and explain some things.” Alastor spoke.

Angel and Husk both nodded in understanding and stepped back from the doorway to let Alastor in. The radio demon stepped inside the room and took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking up again.

“I also apologize for my sudden leave earlier. My mind was in shock and couldn’t process it at the time. However now that I have thought about it there’s a few things I need to make clear.” Alastor paused for a moment.

The other two demons listened intently and waited for Alastor to continue. 

“Now as I spoke of earlier, I enjoy the company of you two and the growing friendship with it. I could go on for weeks about how I care about each of you. However as this went on, I realized my own feelings were more complex than I first thought. I had also realized how I enjoyed being around you two more than others. At first I considered this because of how close I felt with both of you. Then eventually I realized it wasn’t that simple. There is something different about you two and I don't entirely understand what it is. All I know is that my emotions toward both of you are different, intense, and more caring.” Alastor explained.

There was a long pause before either of them responded.

“Al baby, can we hug ya?” Angel finally spoke up with a smile.

Alastor looked at both of them and found looks of acceptance and mutual feelings. He gave a nod before being pulled into a group hug.

The radio demon let out a relieved sigh as he relaxed in the embrace of the two other demons.

“I know we’re all probably gonna have to talk about this later but I am damn exhausted. So let’s just talk in the morning.” Husk remarked with a yawn. 

“Right I understand. I shall talk with both of you in the morning.” Alastor replied before starting to leave.

However Alastor was stopped by someone grabbing his arm. He looked over and saw Husk stopping him. 

“You don’t have to leave you know. You can just rest with us if you want.” Husk spoke before letting go of his arm.

Alastor thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. He slipped off his coat, tie, and shoes then walked over to the bed. Angel Dust laid down and pulled Alastor and Husk into his arms. The radio demon rested his head against Angel’s chest. Husk did the same and gently rested his claw against Alastor’s who didn’t pull away. 

As the three demons started to fall asleep, there was a mutual feeling of peace. This would definitely change things but they knew that it would be a good change. 

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon Part 25/? - Fugitives Part 26/? - A Reluctant Accomplice

Agent Russel probably doesn’t deserve this.  Probably.

-

The next day, when Agent Russel showed up for his tuna melt, it was served to him by a woman in the same uniform any of the other waitresses wore. As she set the plate in front of him, another came to refill his coffee cup.

“Thanks, ladies,” he murmured, raising the cup to his lips.

“Don’t mention it,” said Peggy.

Agent Russel looked up with a start.  His brown eyes darted from Peggy to Kay and then back again, and his expression suggested he was seriously considering screaming.  Peggy sat down across from him at his booth, and Kay took the seat next to him, blocking his escape.

“Not a sound,” said Peggy.

Something under the table went click, sounding suspiciously like a gun being cocked. Kay, her hands invisible, gave Agent Russel a dazzling smile.

“So you two are working together,” Russel said.

“Don’t look so nervous, Ned,” said Kay.  “You’re flirting with two waitresses at once.  You should be a happy man.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Your help,” Peggy replied.

“Why would I want to help you?”

“Because we’re the ones who found Captain America,” said Peggy.  “Doesn’t that suggest we’re the good guys?”

“I don’t know who are the good guys in this,” Russel admitted. “Last time I saw you,” he pointed at Peggy, “you were going home in protest because Thompson was working with her,” his finger moved to Kay, “and she drugged and robbed me.”

“I apologized,” said Kay.

“Now suddenly you’re on the same side?”

“Kay persuaded me that we always have been,” Peggy said, though that still wasn’t totally true.  “Remember those numbers I mentioned she gave me?  Those were the key to the Captain’s location.  Kay is not a spy, she’s a defector.  She has information for us, and she thinks she knows how to get more out of Olga Barynova.”

Russel nodded slowly, although his expression remained skeptical.  “And where does she come into this? Because she says you let her out of prison and flew her to Los Angeles yourself.”

“Did she say why?” asked Peggy.

 “We haven’t been able to get that out of her,” Russel said.

Peggy laced her fingers together in front of her.  “I’m afraid it’s true that I let Miss Underwood out of her cell,” she said, “but I did so with every intention of returning her to it, and because I needed a service I felt only she could provide.  I’m sure you’ve heard of Whitney Frost?”

“Yes…” said Russel slowly.  “She’s that actress who went nuts and murdered her husband, right?”

“There’s a bit more to the story than that.”  Peggy leaned in a bit closer.  “Let me explain.  You can check what I say with Daniel Sousa and Edwin Jarvis, and they will tell you the same.”

Russel looked around, and then opened his briefcase to get a notebook. “All right.  Let’s hear it.”

Peggy tried to be as quick as she could in describing the situation, but it was not a simple one and it took a while.  They probably went on significantly beyond the break two waitresses would have gotten, but it was essential that Russel get details he could confirm if he liked.  In particular she described how they’d dressed Dottie for the mission, how Mr. Jarvis had observed that she was an excellent dancer, and what they’d been able to learn as a result.

“Unfortunately, Miss Underwood is better than you are from escaping the trunks of cars,” Peggy finished, “and we haven’t seen her since.”

“Uh-huh,” said Russel.  “If any of that is true… well, freeing her was still a stupid thing to do.”

“Yes, it was,” Peggy said, “and I regret it every time I hear she’s committed another robbery or ended another life.  However,” she gestured to her companion.  “Kay thinks she knows what Dottie’s trying to accomplish, and if she’s correct we can get good information from her.  We obviously can’t get in to talk to her because, as you already noted, we’re supposed to be in jail with her.  But you can.”

Russel frowned, thinking.  “What are you two up to?” he asked.  “What are you trying to do?”

“Make the future a little better than it’s stacking up to be,” said Kay.

“If we can find out where Dottie and her ilk came from, we can shut them down and make sure we don’t see any more like her,” Peggy said.  “And possibly free American prisoners of war, as well.”

“What would you need me to do?” Russel asked.

“For now just deliver a message and bring back her reply,” said Peggy.  “Kay has a page written up.  She’ll give you a translation if you want it.”

Kay took the paper out.  “If you do this for us, not only will you be potentially saving lives, but I will personally go see your wife and tell her you were supposed to be investigating me and that’s the only reason you had a drink with me, and try to convince her to take you back.  I can’t promise miracles,” she added, “but I’ll do my best and my best is pretty damned good.”  She offered him the page.

He made no move to take it.  Instead he just sat there, apparently lost in thought.

“Agent Russel,” Peggy said, “what was your first impression of me?”

“Of you?”  He looked her over.  “That you were very, very… devoted… to getting your job done.  But my first impression of her,” Russel looked at Kay, “was that she was harmless and flighty, so I’m not sure I trust those anymore. Can I have twenty-four hours to think it over?”

Peggy didn’t want to give it to him.  Twenty-four hours was time to think, but it was also time to tell Thompson and Masters they’d been here.  Could they afford that?  Twenty-four hours from now, Steve would have left New York on the beginning of the publicity tour Masters had put together.  If he still wanted to rescue his friend from captivity in Russia, were they going to have to chase him across the country in order to give him their information?

“Can I have your word you won’t go straight to the police?” she asked.

“I am the police,” Russel reminded her, “but yes.  I think there’s more going on here than you can see on the surface, but I don’t know which side of it you two are on… especially when you’re pointing a gun at me under the table.”

Kay smiled at him and brought her other hand up to show him a bolt mechanism from a disassembled doorknob, which she’d used to make the metallic click.

“Well,” Peggy said in an American accent.  “We’d better get back to our shift.  See you tomorrow, Mr. Russel.  Same time, same place.”

- 

They spent a second restless night in the Pine Barrens.  Kay busied herself with some knitting needles and yarn she’d bought in the town, producing some intricate-looking lacy thing Peggy couldn’t begin to identify.  Her thoughts were a mystery.

Peggy herself spent the time thinking about what they were going to do if this didn’t work.  It seemed to her that they’d have to find Steve, but she really didn’t want him to get involved in this mess.  Daniel was in it with her whether she liked it or not, as was Mr. Jarvis, but she would have liked to keep Steve safe.

That was a strange thought, wasn’t it?  Steve had always been able to take care of himself, even when he’d been only five foot four, yet Peggy’s urge was to protect him.  Was that one of those ‘motherly instincts’ men insisted all women had, or was it just that Peggy wanted to keep everybody she loved safe? She’d failed with Michael.  There was a part of her that still thought, no matter how irrational she knew it was, that if she’d only joined the spy corps earlier he would still be alive.  Was she trying to make up for that?

What would happen if she just disappeared?

She’d wondered that from time to time, like when Anna Jarvis had been shot… wouldn’t the people she loved be safer if Peggy weren’t around?  Without her, Daniel and Mr. Jarvis wouldn’t be in trouble right now.  She was the one who’d involved them in the situation with Dottie.  The problem with that thought was that the trouble had already come to them.  If she were to vanish, they would still end up in prison or worse on the strength of Dottie’s testimony, or perhaps have their fates dangled like carrots to encourage Peggy to return.  She couldn’t stand for that.  She’d gotten them in trouble, she had to get them out of it.

Which meant she’d better come up with a backup plan in case Russel wouldn’t help.

- 

They scoped out the Automat very carefully before returning the next day, making sure there were no suspicious fellows hanging around watching who came and went.  Peggy saw none, and Kay agreed with her.  They went inside and changed into Angie’s spare uniforms, Kay putting a few safety pins in hers so it would look like it fit.  When Agent Russel arrived, they took him his usual and sat down across from him.  This time, they did not bother with sound effects.

“I didn’t talk to the police,” he said.  “But I felt like I had to talk to somebody… so I talked to Captain America.”

Peggy’s heart started beating a little faster.  “How on Earth did you manage that?” she asked.  Steve and Masters had left New York early that morning. They’d heard it on their car radio.

“I told Jack I wanted to meet him in person because he’s always been a hero of mine, Jack talked to Masters, and Masters let me in,” Russel explained.

“Wow.  I’m momentarily glad I didn’t kill him yet,” said Kay.

“Please stop that,” Peggy told her.

“If you want something fun to do on your weekends,” Kay said to Russel, “take a look at what Vernon Masters was up to around… oh, 1943-ish.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” Peggy asked her.  A foolish question, really… Kay always knew something nobody else did, or at least, she acted that way.

“In this case, no,” Kay replied, “but I have strong suspicions.”

Peggy shook her head and brought things back to Russel.  “What did he say?  Steve, I mean.”

“Well, he told me to call him Steve,” Russel said, “which was a little like meeting one of your schoolteachers as an adult and having him tell you to call him by his name.  I told him what you were asking me to do, and… he said he doesn’t know about Miss Lake, himself, but he trusts Peggy Carter with his life and I should do what she asks.  He seemed pretty sure you know what you’re doing.”

Peggy had to chuckle at that.  “He has such faith in me,” she said.  Of course, she had faith in Steve, too… he’d always done the most recklessly foolish things imaginable, but he’d always managed to make them work in spite of everything.  “Thank you, Agent Russel.”

“I still don’t know what’s going on here,” Russel admitted, “but I don’t think Captain America would involve himself with traitors.  I read the file the FBI gave me about you, and I remember thinking there must have been some kind of mistake.  That was my instinct from the beginning.”  He glanced at Kay… the woman who’d given him cause to doubt his instincts.  “What’s this message?”

Kay unfolded it and handed it over – a page of pseudo-Cyrillic accomplished with an ordinary English typewriter and going over some of the letters two or three times.  “I think I know what she wants.  She’s amassing money and blackmail material.  She’s going after the mob now because she wants to force a diplomat with criminal connections to smuggle her back into the USSR.  If she tries to go there legitimately, or even secretly but without protection, she’ll be shot.  She needs to enter the country unnoticed, and then she’s going after the people who made her.”

“For what?  Revenge?” asked Russel.

“Exactly.”

“And you’re going to let her do it?” he guessed.

“On her own she can’t,” said Kay.  “She’ll never get that far, or she’ll be caught, and she’ll just disappear from history. But if I’m right, it gives us a bargaining chip.”

“I see.”  Russel tucked the message inside his jacket.  “I’ll deliver it this afternoon, and if she gives me a reply, I’ll pass it on tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Agent Russel,” Peggy repeated.

They left him to his lunch then, and returned to their stolen car to go back into hiding.  Kay still hadn’t broken her habit of checking for seat belts when she got in.

Halfway through New Jersey, she suddenly asked Peggy, “have you see Frankenstein?  That was made in the thirties, wasn’t it?  Or read the book?”

“I haven’t,” Peggy replied.  “I’m not one for the cinema, and the very idea of the book put me off.”  As a child she simply hadn’t liked horror stories, and as an adult she’d seen far too many of them in real life to enjoy them in fiction.

“I have,” said Kay.  “Several more versions, too, and most of them miss the point.  The creature couldn’t help being what he was.  The monster was the man who created him.”  She sighed.  “Everyone treated the creature as a monster, until he decided that was the only thing he could be.”

“Do you believe that of yourself?” Peggy asked.

“I think Barynova might,” Kay replied.

[lustinglilac]

Everything About You

A/N: This is a long one but, I’ve been meaning to post it, just hadn’t had the time to edit it until now! It’s a couple of different parts happening over a span of 3 days leading up to them finally getting together. (Not based on any episode in particular)

Pairing: EZ Reyes x OC (Nestor’s sister)

Warnings: blood, death, shooting, guns, strong language, brief sexual harassment, 18+, smut, choking, oral (m/f receiving), vocal EZ, unprotected sex.

Word count: 33.1 k (sorry, I couldn’t stop typing)

*gif not mine*

Thursday, 2:15 PM She rolled over in her empty bed, sighing, plain white sleep shirt rising over the curve of her ass.

“Fuck!” She was going to be late to Miguel’s interrogation. Her phone had at least five missed calls from her brother and three messages from her boss, Miguel.

She braced herself for the angry man on the other line as she finally called him back, “Where the fuck are you, Nic?” Her brother’s voice coming through tight on the other side.

“Nestor, fucking relax. I just got up.” She admitted cringing at her words, hopping on one leg trying to put on her pants and talk to him at the same time. She stumbled over the mess of laundry she had on the floor of her room, kicking it to the side to deal with later.

“Hurry the fuck up. The guys are going to be here soon and I can’t have my right hand not show up.” He hangs up abruptly, not giving her a chance to respond. He could be so frustrating at times.

She looked at her outfit in the mirror before brushing her teeth and fixing her hair to look somewhat presentable.

She knew Miguel’s cartel dressed to the nines but, in all honesty, she couldn’t be bothered right now considering she was too late to pick out a decent outfit, going for a more laid back option.

2:35 PM She had a few more minutes before she had to show up, taking her chances, grabbing the keys to her Cadillac and running out the door. She stopped at their local Starbucks, the drive thru line surprisingly empty. Luck was definitely on her side today as she ordered her espresso and paid, downing the tiny cup in two gulps.

“Si tú me llama'. Nos vamo' pa' tu casa. Nos quedamo' en la cama. Sin pijama, sin pijama.” The radio played softly in the background, making her hum along; she came to a halt at the shady spot where people did not make it out alive most of the time.

It was three o’clock on the dot as she cursed under her breath, throwing her empty Starbucks cup on the ground and walking quickly into the building; her breathing never faltering thanks to her rigorous exercise routine.

“She’ll be here, Miguel, she was just running an errand for me—“ Nestor’s voice sounded as she rounded the corner, coming to a halt at the gate.

“I’m here.” She smiled, panting slightly, as twelve pairs of eyes landed on her. Some widened, others more dark as they looked at her from head to toe, eyeing her body. She walked past the men closest to the gate, the Mayans, excusing herself and making her way towards her boss.

Nestor shook his head, running a hand down his face as Miguel all but frowned at her. He had known her and Nestor since they were younger, always having their backs because he knew they always had his. Miguel smiled, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek as she gladly accepted before flipping off her brother behind Miguel’s embrace.

“Gonna let me get one last fuck in before I die, Galindo? How fucking thoughtful of you.” A strangled voice seethed to her left as the room was stunned into dead silence now.

She bit her lip anxiously, closing her eyes, huffing quietly as Miguel held a firm grasp on her as not to let her interfere with what was going to happen next.

“Hijo de puta— what the fuck did you just say?” Nestor abandoned his position at the table of weapons altogether narrowing his eyes at the perpetrator, tied up to the pew and struggling to breath.

“Hermano—“ Her voice coming out small in the room full of men. She knew what he was about to do. The man on the wooden pew messed with the wrong Oceteva as realization dawned across his bloody face.

“That’s his sister?!” A muffled voice from one of the men in leather vests gasped before being shut up by another older gentleman.

“Please— I-I didn’t know! Please!” Nestor had already brought his gun to the traitor’s temple, pulling the trigger without hesitation. She flinched slightly as the man’s body lay limp on the seat, Nestor telling his men to clean up the mess.

“Sorry you had to hear that—“ Miguel apologized sincerely, patting the younger woman on the shoulder as she shrugged. She was used to seeing and hearing worse from men who thought she was just another easy girl, Nestor always coming to her defense when it did happen though. She’d always told him, “Nestor, I can handle myself.” Yet, he couldn’t help but be protective. She was his baby sister after all.

“It’s fine. What can I do for you, though?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her brother’s movements behind Miguel. He was pissed the fuck off, to say the least.

“I’d like to introduce you to my newest hires.” He walked her over to the stunned men in the corner, who wouldn’t dare make eye contact with her. Hell, not after what just happened. She smiled tightly, despite wanting to roll her eyes at their sheepish behavior.

“They will be working with us, reporting back any suspicious activity going on that we may have missed. Although that is highly unlikely.” He stated matter of factly making her nod her head in agreement. “Gentlemen, this is Nicole Oceteva, Nestor’s second in command and his sister.” Miguel kept his naturally stoic posture as he introduced her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Oceteva. We look forward to working with you.” She read the name tag of the person who had spoken to her, choosing his words carefully, Presidente.

“Please, call me Nicole.” She smiled warmly, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “I look forward to getting to know all of you.”

EZ furrowed his brows, eyeing her warily. How the hell had she been so comfortable after what just happened minutes ago?

“Bishop.” The older man returned her smile as he turned around to his crew and introduced them, “This is Riz, Taza, Tranq, Gilly.” He pauses to let them shake her hand hesitantly, “Coco, Angel, and EZ.” The younger looking Mayans more confident in stretching out their hands for her to shake.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of EZ as he had been introduced, his touch lingering the longest. She pulled away from his warm grasp on her hand immediately at the sound of her brother’s voice, “Nicole—“

Miguel let her go as he stayed behind, whispering something to the Mayans that had to do with business no doubt.  

EZ had felt the same, he felt a spark run up his hand as soon as she had taken it. He knew she could sense it, too. He watched her walk away, the sway of her hips distracting him, until Miguel cleared his throat, nearly catching him staring.

“You didn’t need to do that, Nestor—“ She huffed as the dead body had been taken away seconds ago, eyeing the pew in which it once lay.

He scoffed, stubborn as ever, “Nah, he deserved it, trust me. Next time, you come here on time, even earlier than when I tell you, I don’t want you slipping up again, understand?” He looked down at her shorter frame, trying to intimidate her but he knew better than that.

“Mhmm.” She mocked. They both knew she probably wasn’t going to kick her habit because Miguel was too lenient when it came to her, he loved her like his own sister considering he never had one, she was the closest thing.

The Mayans were long gone by now as Miguel strode back to the siblings in his tailored suit.

“Everything okay?” Miguel scanned her face for any signs of distress as she nodded confidently, attempting to grab one of the guns from her brother’s array of weapons.

“Yes. How’s Emily? And my nephew?” She asked eagerly as Nestor slapped her hand away, making her pout and turn back to her boss.

“They’re doing well. Your nephew misses you, Nicole, don’t be a stranger. You are always welcome in our home. In fact, I have a charity event set up for this weekend, I would love for you to be there.” Miguel spoke as one of his men put on his suit jacket for him, straightening it out.

She contemplated her decision for a moment, tossing her hair to the side, “She’ll be there. I could use the help anyway.” Before she even had a chance to answer, her brother had spoken for her.

“Great. Saturday night, six o’clock sharp.” Smoothing down his collar, he turned on his heel and exited the building. She grinned politely until he was out of sight and then turned to frown at her brother.

“You’re not my lawyer, I don’t understand why you need to answer for me.” She stomped her foot like a child.

“When you start acting right, I’ll consider it.” Nestor huffed and fixed the holsters hanging under his arms.

“You literally embarrassed me in front of those guys! Three of which were so fucking cute!” She clenched her jaw tightly, wanting nothing more than to shove him into the wall for being so protective.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” He raised his eyebrows at her confession. “I won’t let you get involved with some lowlife who worships his bicycle.”

She could not believe how persistent her brother was, “Pretty sure they’re motorcycles. And next time don’t bother calling me when I’m running late. I’ll show up when I want to.” She turned away from him and strutted out of the stuffy room and into the daylight, Nestor hot on her heels.

“You stopped for coffee? Really, Nic?” He scoffed as he kicked the discarded paper cup towards her.

“I was thirsty!” She grumbled and slammed her car door shut, thanking God she didn’t have to see him until at least the night before Miguel’s gala. It’s not that they didn’t have a good relationship as brother and sister but he did manage to get on her nerves, a lot of the time.

She finally calmed down and put her car into reverse, backing out into the street, deciding on not heading home just yet. She made her way past the busy streets, traffic hitting hard at this time of the day. She finally got to where she wanted, pulling over into the designated parking spot.

She needed to find a decent dress for Saturday, she couldn’t show up in just anything. And if her favorite Mayan, at the moment, was going to be there Nicole definitely wanted to step up her game.

She was welcomed immediately into the air conditioned boutique, as the ladies had come to recognize her since the few times she’d shopped there with Emily.

“Nicole, what can we do for you?” The store manager smirked as she stalked towards her favorite customer. Nicole didn’t respond just yet as she eyed the rack of new dresses that hadn’t even been taken out of their plastic bags.

“Hmmm... I need a dress. Preferably long, preferably blue. Nothing too revealing but also, I don’t wanna look like a nun.” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow as the staff scrambled to find her what she’d just described.

She took a seat on the plush sofa as they presented her dress after dress, flipping through them like pages of a magazine. Until one finally caught her eye, it was gorgeous right down to the detailing. It was the only one that had been on an actual mannequin.

“I’ll take it.” Nicole was floored by the way it looked on the mannequin and to be honest, she couldn’t wait to wear it. She’d have to find a way to conceal her thigh holster in it considering that the hip-high slit left little to be desired. Nestor was going to flip out, but she didn’t care. She wanted it more than anything.

“And it’s just your size. It was meant to be, Nicki.” The manager held her hand out greedily to take her credit card, swiping it and packing the dress neatly into a box, handing her the bag.

“Muchas gracias, chicas.” She blew them a kiss and walked out into the warm air of her town once again.

She couldn’t wait to get home to try on the dress, speeding off in the direction of her house. Nicole grabbed her belongings and headed inside, dead bolting her door and running down the hall to her room.

She stripped off her clothes leaving her in a black lace thong and her bra, taking the dress out and placing it up against her body, the smooth silk fabric rubbing against her skin softly. She slipped it on with ease, the fabric tightening at her waistline and flowing loosely down the back of her legs.

Nicole picked up her thigh holster, securing it around her thigh to test it, it would definitely not be concealed but she’d have to deal with the consequences if she wanted to wear this stunning piece. And she really did.

With a soft sigh, she took the dress off carefully, placing it back in its box for safe keeping.

Nicole walked down the hall to her spacious kitchen, preparing herself a bowl of pasta and sunk down into the couch to enjoy it. Before she knew it, she’d dozed off with the TV playing in the background, a small blanket draped over her body. ••• “You got a deathwish? Hey, EZ—“ Angel was fuming as his brother had pissed him off yet again.

“What?” The younger Reyes turned around abruptly, glaring at Angel.

“Don’t do it man, I saw that look in your eyes. Nestor’s sister, don’t fucking do it.” He warned him as Ezekiel scoffed loudly.

“What look? I didn’t do shit, Angel. Tranquillo.” He was getting defensive and Angel knew better than to press him. Not yet at least.

“She’s the competition. You never fuck the competition.” Coco piped up from his spot at the bar, downing his beer in a few quick sips.

“What do you know about competition, loco?” Gilly couldn’t help but comment.

“Matter fact, what do you know about fucking?” Angel waited for a reply from the Mayan, grunting amusedly when he didn’t get one, “That’s what I thought.”

“Blowing this out of proportion, as always.” EZ was beyond angered at the way they spoke about a woman they barely even knew. He wondered if she’d be there Saturday night.

They’d been invited to Miguel’s gala as a second pair of eyes and ears. Bishop hesitantly accepted since he knew it wouldn’t really be their scene but, they were desperate for money so they took the invite anyway.

EZ was tired from the day’s events, slipping out of the clubhouse, driving his bike all the way to his father’s, settling in for the night.   ••• “Nicki! Open the door!” A loud banging on her front door interrupted her training session, pausing her music making her huff loudly running to answer it at the sound of her brother’s voice.

“What, Nestor?!” She swung the door open aggressively, wiping the sweat off of her brow and going back to her workout in the spare room.

He came in with two other guards she hadn’t seen before, she figured they were new hires considering the event was going to be packed with strangers and it was being held in Miguel’s own home.

Nestor held up a blueprint of the mansion to her face, “We need to go over the layout.”

She sighed loudly, stopping her assault on the punching bag and looking between him and the two new members, “I’m listening.”

“We keep it tight, secure, we have eyes and ears in every corner of the room, got it?” Nestor laid the paper flat on the desk in front of them, “This hallway right here has no cameras, it’s a weak spot, that’s where Nicole will be positioned. You two, front entrance, ID guests and make sure their names appear on the list.” He spoke aggressively, making sure his crew heard every word of the plan.

“This,” She motioned to the group, “Could’ve been a group FaceTime, Nestor, not a house visit.”

“That’s what I said.” One of the new guys snorted, earning a death stare from his boss.

She rolled her eyes at the way the man shut up immediately, apologizing to Nestor, not daring to look at him.

“Yes! Thank you, he gets it!“ She turned to the young man bold enough to speak back to her brother, “Don’t let him intimidate you.” She winked.

“That’s enough!” Nestor’s hand coming down harsh onto the wooden desk, crumpling up the blueprint, “I’ll see you on Saturday Nicole, and don’t be fucking late.” With that, he and his men left her home letting her get back to her activities.

She locked the door behind them, downing a water bottle, breathing quite heavily as she checked her phone for any new messages.

With a heavy sigh, she got up from the couch, heading for her shower to cool off. She needed to do her nails, picking a nice red color from her selection of nail polishes before stepping into the mist of water.

She washed off the sweat, shaving off the thin layer of stubble that had accumulated on her legs before doing the same to her underarms. She stepped out, drying off her body and applying some moisturizing cream, she sat at her vanity concentrating on shaping and filing her long nails perfectly.

Once she was pleased with the way they’d come out, she waited until they were dry to start touching anything. She needed to get her things ready for tomorrow evening.

She neatly folded her clothes and placed them in their respective drawers before tidying up her bed. She would have to be on high alert the whole night considering she had one of the weaker spots to guard. She picked out an outfit to wear for the remainder of the day, settling on a black shirt and a pair of cargo pants with sneakers.

She forgot that she promised her brother she would have dinner with him tonight, checking the time in order to start cooking something up to bring over to his place.

Dinner time rolled around, Nicole grabbing her belongings and heading over to Nestor’s. He didn’t live far, about fifteen minutes away by car; they used to live together until Nicole wanted to have her own space and Nestor his which was understandable.

“Qué pasó?” She smiled as he opened up the door to his lavish home, not a speck of dust anywhere.

“Hey. Thought you wouldn’t show.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, ruffling her hair slightly and taking the glass tupperware from her hands.

“You ready for tomorrow night?” She spoke, setting up the island with two plates and utensils, uncovering her food. She hummed pleasantly as the smell filled her nostrils.

Nestor looked at her, “Yeah, we have everything secured. What are you wearin’?” He asked her around a mouthful of salad.

“A dress.” She tried to divert the attention to another subject, “You?”

“Okay, why’re you actin’ so weird? What color? Maybe I’ll match with you.” He laughed loudly at the disgusted look on her face, not that he was planning to match with her but it was funny to rile her up.

“Don’t even. People already think we look like twins, let's not give them another reason to add to the list.” She scoffed.

They wrapped up their dinner silently, getting comfortable on each end of one of his couches, watching whatever movie was playing on TV. The siblings enjoyed one another’s company, as much as they won’t admit it, because growing up they only really ever had each other.

It was getting dark out and Nicole really didn’t wanna be falling asleep at the wheel, calling it a night as Nestor walked her to the door, “See you tomorrow, hermana. Get home safe.”

Before she could respond, a knock at the door startled her as she looked at her brother with a  curious expression, “You expecting someone?”

“Ah shit. It’s the bike riders.” He opened the door up, revealing the same men she’d seen yesterday, smiling at them over Nestor’s shoulder.

Her eyes scanned the group of them for EZ, not being able to tell who was who underneath their helmets and the fact that it was quite dark out.

“Nestor, can we talk?” Bishop spoke calmly. Nestor grunted a response, seeing his sister out in order to handle the business until she protested, wanting to hear what they had to say.

“Absolutely. What about?” Nicole stood at the doorway, questioning the older man. Bishop looked over his shoulder at his club, looking back to the siblings with a grin.

“Nicole— I excused you. You can go.” Nestor pointed his stare at her, motioning for her to leave.

She scoffed, raising her eyebrows, wanting so badly to argue with him right now but deciding not to, “Ugh. You’re fucking annoying, and don’t forget it. Goodbye.” She stomped her foot, huffing in frustration as Nestor snickered obnoxiously at her attitude.

“What did you want to talk about?” Nestor’s hushed voice sounded behind her.

She was barely watching where she was going as she headed to her car, catching herself before she bumped into a mass of muscle, “Excuse me.” She whispered harshly, looking up at the figure.

It was him. Her breath caught in her throat, she was flustered for the first time and if anyone knew Nicole, they knew she never got flustered that easily.

“Sorry.” EZ coughed, moving out of her way, a few snickers were heard behind him.

“No, don’t be. My fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She bit her lip, watching him shift his eyes between her and her brother at the door who hadn’t noticed their interaction yet.

“All good.” EZ smiled down at her smaller frame, mentally face palming himself for his lame choice of words. All good? Really, Ezekiel?

“Well, have a goodnight. See you around.” Her eyes held a glimmer of hope that he’d return the same words.

“Yeah, see you around.” He breathed out, keeping his distance, just as Bishop had finished conversing with Nestor.

With that, she left the scene, hot and bothered, all eyes on her due to the interaction that just occurred. ••• Slipping on the beautiful silk fabric, she secured her gun to her thigh holster, trying to conceal it as best as she could; the thigh high split really brought attention to that part of her legs.

Nicole was almost ready to go, checking often to make sure her brother hadn’t arrived to pick her up yet. She made sure her purse had all of her essentials in it and put on one more coat of lip gloss just for safe measure. She figured she wasn’t going to get on Nestor’s nerves tonight considering it was a huge event and it was important to Miguel.

She slipped on her heels, making sure they were snug before heading down the hall slowly, adjusting her dress every now and then. Her hair flowed down her back, makeup kept to a minimum as not to overpower the color and details on her dress.

Nestor was outside with his men, honking once to signal his arrival just as she closed the door behind her and turned around, eyes following her every move to the waiting car.

“Where’s the rest of your dress?” Here he goes again. She rolled her eyes at his old fashioned thinking, flipping him off and settling into the passenger seat, smiling over her shoulder at two of their men who occupied the backseat.

“Not even a ‘Hi Nicole, how are you?’ ‘Oh, Nicole you look beautiful’.” She hit his shoulder.

Nestor scoffed, continuing to drive for another few minutes before pulling up to the lavish mansion. It was a quarter to six when they’d arrived and some guests had already begun populating the front yard, waiting to be checked by security.

She opened her door, swinging her legs out as elegantly as possible, trying not to catch the dress on anything. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she strutted past the front door with Nestor and his posse, winking to the two younger men who had been at her house the other day.

Miguel turned around upon hearing the doors open, “Que bonita. You look beautiful, as always.” He marveled at the young woman, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek just as Emily emerged with her son on her hip.

“Nicole! Oh my goodness.” Emily gawked at her from head to toe, eyes wide as she took in what she was wearing.

“Hey! I missed you!” They hugged each other tightly.

Nicole placed a kiss on her nephew’s cheek as he smiled at her, “I cannot get enough of that face. Look how big you got!” She cooed.

The ladies had a lot to catch up on since the last time they’d seen each other, gossiping and laughing occasionally as guests poured in. Her eyes searching every now and again for the soft brown ones she’d grown accustomed to.

She kept a watchful eye out for that hallway Nestor had positioned her to, making sure no one went out of their sight of vision. After an hour of chatting with guests and receiving multiple compliments, and some stares due to her scandalous dress, he finally decided to show up.

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned around, facing the handsome man who wore all black and he looked damn good. She bit her lip absentmindedly as she watched him, easily slip through the crowd, not once leaving his club’s side.

“You’re drooling, hermana.” Nestor nudged her, smirking once he caught sight of who it was she was staring at.

She gasped, “Shut up.” Grumbling something under her breath, she turned around, taking a sip of her drink and conversing with the men at the bar. She threw her head back, laughing at a story, completely missing the fact that some scumbag was trying to talk her up. Though, the boys around the bar were quick to shut up, on guard as the sleeze made a scene.

“Beautiful body and easy access? I could have fun with you.” He slurred, bold enough to thrust his hand out to grab her exposed thigh.

She clenched her jaw, shocked that someone had the nerve to come up to her like this, looking around her at the stunned faces, the whole room going silent, as she turned around slowly catching the perp’s hand, twisting it back with a vengeance, moving her body out of the way to slam his head into the wooden bar, pulling him back by his hair as he groaned in pain, nose gushing blood.

“Not so fucking easy now, huh?” She seethed in his ear as she let go of him harshly, the man stumbling back nearly unconscious, guests moving out of the way to let him fall to the ground. He choked on his own tongue as the men behind her pulled him up, dragging his body outside.

“If this motherfucker got blood on my dress—“ She huffed silently checking the fabric for any signs of red spots. She sighed out of relief once she saw that her dress hadn’t been dirtied.

“You good?” Nestor came to her side immediately, making sure his sister was okay before proceeding to deal with the drunken bastard outside.

She smiled politely at the people still staring, making her way to the hallway that she was securing, knowing they wouldn’t know where she was. She needed a second to breath.

EZ had been watching though, the whole ordeal from the moment the man had made a bet with his buddy at the bar that he could land “that hot piece of ass” and it made his blood boil but he wasn’t going to make a scene. Her expression was deadly, he noted, as she turned around to face the bastard. He was stunned but kind of turned on at the fact that she was able to handle her own.

“Man, I wouldn’t wanna fuck with her.” Coco had commented next to him as they were taking the drunkard out of the room. EZ simply grinned, watching as Nicole composed herself and walked off, eyes following her body the whole way down a dark hallway.

“I’m gonna go find the bathroom.” He downed the rest of his drink, fixing his jacket as he stood, looking around discreetly making sure no one saw him follow her.

There they were, together, in a secluded corridor of Miguel’s mansion, tension at an all time high.

Her eyes had to be deceiving her as she gasped, looking at the man standing in front of her, “You lost?” She asked him, pretty eyes widening as he shook his head sheepishly.

“Nah, I’m right where I wanna be, actually. You okay? I saw what happened—“

She stepped closer, almost closing the space between them, heat radiating off both of their bodies, “I’m okay. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze once again.

“Good. Just wanted to make sure.” EZ reached his hand out cautiously, holding her small jaw in his much larger hand tilting her head up, “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. I know, better than anyone, this is a man’s world, they’re intimidated by you, shit, most of my guys are too. You’re somethin’ else, Nicole.” He inched closer until she melted into him, lips pressing softly into hers.

He pulled away, realizing where he was, “Shit. I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t met with resistance, instead she pulled him back down by the lapels of his suit jacket, whimpering softly when she caught his lip with her teeth.

She pulled back breathlessly, panting slightly, lips swollen and wet, “Fuck me.” Her doe eyes looked up at him, tempting him to take her right then and there.

He groaned lowly, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, if he wasn’t hard two minutes ago, he was definitely rock hard now. His self control was slipping more and more as she took his hand, running it down her body to the thigh high slit that could make any man fall to his knees.

She watched him the whole time, even when she took his long, thick fingers and slid them past her holster and into the flimsy thong covering her pussy, his breath hitching slightly as he felt how fucking wet she was.

She shivered as he finally took control, swiping a finger up her slit collecting the sweet cum that pooled there, bringing his hand out and up to her waiting mouth as she sucked on his fingers, moaning softly around them, shooting a wave of pleasure straight to his cock.

He leaned down to press his lips to her temple, “Are you sure?” He asked her as she let go of his fingers with a pop.

“Yes, please.” She nodded her head waiting for his next move.

He shut his eyes for a second, breathing out, reveling in the way she spoke so politely. She was going to be the death of him, literally and figuratively.

EZ slowly backed her up to the wall, the molding digging into her back as she gasped, pressing his lips to hers once more desperately. He needed to feel her, to taste her right now.

He grunted as she pressed her hips into his, bringing her palm down to cup him through his black slacks, “Fuck, I been wanting this since the day I first saw you. You’re perfect.” He grinned softly at her as she stared up at him, wanting more.

“Then do it, EZ. Ruin me.” She tempted him. He didn’t need to hear anything else after that, eyes clouded with desire as he kneeled down in front of her, grabbing her left calf and placing it on one of his sturdy shoulders.

She literally felt like she was dreaming, she, like him, couldn’t believe this was happening right now. He nudged her clit over her thong, rubbing it till she whimpered for him, pulling down her thong harshly and spreading her lips with his fingers to his hungry gaze.

“Perfect. Everything about you is.” He hummed making her throb, pressing her head into the wall behind her as he leaned in, pressing his tongue flat to her pussy.

“Oh, fuck.” She was a mess above him and he’d barely even started. As per her request, he was definitely going to ruin her.

He licked at her clit, then fucked her with his tongue, adding a single finger to the equation, “That’s tight.” He growled against her, chin wet with her arousal as he continued his assault.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck.” She whimpered, barely catching her breath, the only sound in the hallway was that of her soaked cunt. Her ears were ringing, her vision nearly went black when he curled his finger against that one spot that made her dizzy.

She was dripping, making a mess on his face, and he couldn’t stop, her smell alone enticing him wanting to make her cum at least 4 times with just his mouth.

“Gonna cum?” He hummed, pressing deeper and rubbing her clit even faster as her body tightened and then spasmed without warning, her release covering his hand down to his wrist.

“Oh my god. You were fucking made for that.” She praises him, pulling him up for a searing kiss.

“I could barely get two fingers in you. So fucking tight.” He spoke against her mouth, biting her lip and letting it go making her giggle.

“I wanna return the favor. Please.” She spoke eagerly, cupping him through his pants again. He was huge, she could already tell and it excited her that much more.

“Nah, you don’t have to—“

“But I want to, EZ. I want you to fuck my mouth.” She pouted.

For the second time that night, he’d lost his cool, his desire for her overpowering his mind. She pulled him into the empty spare room that she knew all too well, having spent multiple sleepless nights in there when she had nowhere else to go, when Miguel was kind enough to help her out for a few months before she could stand on her own two feet.

“Woah— whose bed is this? I don’t wanna intrude.” EZ tugged on her hand, making her stop and explain.

“Don’t worry. It used to be mine. No one’s gonna find us, trust me.” She assured him as he eased up only slightly, the dreaded thought of someone catching them still in the back of his mind.

She kicked off her heels, hiking up her dress, getting onto the large bed, “EZ, relax. Wanna make you feel good.” She was level with his face now as she pulled him closer to her and made him sit back against the headboard.

Her eager hands undid his belt buckle and then his zipper, reaching a hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling his cock pulsate under her touch.

“Fuck.” He grunted breathlessly, helping her pull him out all the way, pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs a little more.

“Shit. You’re big.” She gasped quietly, seeing him in all his glory, his cock fully erect and leaking cum at the tip. She took him into her hand, pumping slowly, biting her lip as she watched him struggle not to thrust into her hand.

He couldn’t take it anymore, beginning to push her head down gently towards his dick, “Gonna take me all the way in your throat? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

Nicole let out a satisfied hum at his words, she licked a long line from the underside of his cock to the top, repeating the action again making the Mayan hiss at the divine feeling.

“Keep doing that, yeah, just like that— fuck.” He groaned sending a wave of heat straight to her pussy. As embarrassing as it was, she was wet again just from his words.

She tested the waters, delving deeper, licking and sucking, the slurping noises obscene in the darkness of the room.

He pushed her head down deeper, fingers threading through her hair as he guided her on his length, her tongue never ceasing.

“Mmmm, fuck.” He gasped, jaw going slack as he watched her incredible mouth take what she can of him, her hand doing the rest of the work at his base. He thrusted into her mouth making her gag lewdly around his tip, sending him over the edge for the first time.

She swallowed every last bit of his seed, wiping some spit at the side of her mouth. She unbuttoned his shirt quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel the abdominal muscles underneath and lick at his tanned skin.

She straddled his waist, careful not to step on her dress, the thigh high slit proving to be of use in this situation as she grinded down on his bare cock.

EZ palmed at her breast, pulling down the cup revealing to him a shiny metal bar pierced through the nipple, swiping a calloused thumb across it, making her arch into his rough touch, “So sexy. Wanna fuck you, make you mine, baby.” He licked at it, the coolness of the bar sending a shiver down his own spine.

She took it upon herself to grab at his cock, aligning him with her soaking wet hole, sinking down slowly as both their breathing nearly stopped at the sensation.

“Fuck, yes.” She whimpered as he adjusted his grip on her curvy hips, scrunching up her gown just enough to get a good hold on her to thrust upwards.

“Too fuckin’ tight, shit.” He struggled to catch his breath and bottom out at the same time, inching his way into her making sure she was comfortable enough. He finally bottomed out, staying still for a minute until she clenched around him deliciously, begging him to move.

She whimpered when he finally decided to give a little testing thrust upwards, his cock engulfed in her warm, wet pussy, never wanting to leave. She couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan, the feeling all too much for her to handle.

She grinded down on him one more time before he took matters into his own hands, ridding himself of his dress shirt and placing a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wanna get a better angle, mi amor— make sure you feel me.” He grunts, pulling himself painfully slowly out of her, leaving her to clench around nothing, her thighs burning.

He placed her legs to the side, helping her slide the dress down her body until it was all the way off, leaning his head down to kiss just above the soft skin of her navel.

She didn’t have a moment to compose herself before she was being coaxed down gently to her hands and knees, ass up in the air for his viewing pleasure.

“EZ, please—“ She let out a breathy moan as the cool air hit her most sensitive spot that he’d been in just a minute prior. He cursed, watching her pussy still clench around nothing and listening to her breathing pick up.

“I got you, sweetheart.” He promised her, placing a soft kiss to the bottom of her spine, making her shiver. She was dripping, her core pulsed with anticipation of what was going to come next from him.

He wrapped a calloused palm around each one of her thighs, spreading her for him, pumping his length once more before inserting himself into her. Her walls stretched to accommodate him, though he couldn’t see it, her face contorted in the pain and pleasure of it all. Her grip on the sheets below her tightened as he pulled her back onto him, making her hiss softly.

“Nicole— shit.” EZ grunted behind her,  struggling to catch his breath as she clenched around him wanting him to move already.

He wrapped a hand around her hair, arching her back into him, and thrusted in and out of her tight heat. Her breath caught in her throat, choking on her words at the new position.

“Yes, baby, oh fuck!” She panted, barely able to form any other words.

Ezekiel let go of her hair, bringing his palm to rest against the column of her throat and squeezing a tiny bit, kissing the side of her cheek and groaning into her ear when he felt her pussy squeeze his cock as he’d done so.

Oh, so she was into that shit? Ezekiel smirked against her cheek, choking her just enough, bringing his other hand down to rub harsh circles into her clit. Her nails sunk into the wrist between her thighs when her body almost gave out, writhing with pleasure as he held her tightly against him.

“Don’t fucking stop— oh my god.” Her throat raw from the activities as she continued to meet his thrusts, feeling the swollen head of his dick press against her g-spot vigorously with every snap of his hips.

“Let go— cum for me, baby.” EZ sighed in her ear, the fingers on her sensitive clit never easing up. He felt her body tense, milking his cock for all it was worth as she came.

“Where the fuck did she go?” A muffled voice accompanied by footsteps sounded in the hallway.

“Shit—“ She was panting and gasping as she came down from her high but he had yet to find his own release.

“Can you stay quiet for me? Hmmm?” EZ whispered, pulling out of her swollen, dripping cunt and flipping her onto her back. She nodded wordlessly as he penetrated her once more.

“Feel so fucking good— wanna stay here forever with you.” The Mayan grunted, placing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, thrusts never slowing down as he chased his own orgasm.

She let a loud moan slip between her lips. EZ clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes rolled back as the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. She was about to cum for the third time that night.

The snap of his hips began to get sloppier, eventually tempting him to pull out, thick white cum painting the lower half of her abdomen.

“Wow—“ She gasped softly before being cut off.

The door handle to the room they were currently using jiggled, his eyes flitting between her and the locked door. He huffed quietly, pulling on his boxer briefs and helping Nicole slip on her thong.

“EZ—“

“Ezekiel— my name’s Ezekiel.” He whispered, smiling at her.

“Ezekiel— I really enjoyed this. Us. And I don’t want it to be a one time thing—“ Her eyes held a glint of hope that he’d felt the same way.

“Yeah, me too.” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly. Before they even had time to react, the door swung open harshly.

“Get the fuck out. Right now.” Nestor’s voice deadly as the two of them pulled away. She barely even had her dress on, grabbing the comforter off the bed and shielding herself from her brother’s view and the extra eyes behind him.

“Nestor wait—“ Her voice wavered, she couldn’t look him in the eye, especially not now.

“Nah— get fucking dressed. Party’s over.” Nestor seethed, glaring at the half naked man standing next to his sister, “I’m not done with you yet, puto.”

With that, he and his men left them to get dressed. Ezekiel shook his head, mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” She sighed, wiping away the single tear that ran down her face.

“Hey, hold on, what’re you sorry for?” He took her jaw in his palm holding it gently and caressing the skin of her cheek, “Family is family. He’s always gonna worry about you, he’s your brother. Believe me, I know more than anyone.”

“I’m honestly surprised he didn’t shoot me—“ He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

“I wouldn’t have let him.” She sniffled, shutting her eyes for a split second before composing herself.

“Oh, yeah? My protector, huh?” He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head, taking her smaller hand in his and walking out of the room.