#i’m not fully returning here yet but i do want to send out some things just so when i do return i have some things to respond to!! maybe m

[romancecroc]

Lucanis Romance (Pt. 2)

This is an alternative take on finishing his companion quest (confronting Illario after saving Catharina). In this version, the whole "I made paella and your favorite" drink did not happen.

Things have felt different between them. Especially after Spite somehow dragged Rook into Lucanis’s subconscious and helped them align on a goal.

Nothing had really happened before that. Just the occasional lingering glances. Hands brushing against each when nobody could see. Overprotectiveness during battles.

But with all that was going on, it was almost impossible to find quiet moments. To reflect. Or to talk. 

And with all her confidence, Rook didn’t dare bring the topic up again. Nor make a move. 

But she felt closer to him. Especially after witnessing all his inner troubles, his regrets. 

But was that enough? How would you name this? Having feelings for someone, feeling close to them and yet… nothing happening?

What exactly did I want to happen?

The thought caught Rook off guard.

Guilt was starting to build up. They never said they were in a relationship after all. Lucanis didn’t owe her anything. 

But at the same time… there was a sense of frustration?

“Rook! Are you listening?” Teia said, waving her hands.

“Ah.” Rook responded, finally snapping out of it.

She was in Trevisio. They were getting ready to save Catharina and set Illario straight.

Teia and Viago were preparing, but Lucanis was nowhere to be seen.

Apparently he would join in later.

“Don’t worry, Lucanis knows the plan. He’ll join you at the mansion. Are you ready to go?” Teia asked again, patting Rook’s shoulder.

“Yes, sorry. We will get Catharina out of the mansion and then we’ll confront Ilario at the gathering.” Rook said, mostly to summarize it for herself.

“What are you going to do with Ilario when all of this is over?”

Teia and Viago chuckled, grabbing their daggers and facing the exit.

“I’m sure our first talon will know what to do.”

And with that, they both vanished.

—

It didn’t take long to sneak through the mansion. The team had initially agreed to only send out Rook and Lucanis - the less attention they attract the better.

But where was he?

Rook noticed one of the hallways having more guards than the others. With a dagger in hand and magic in another, she swiftly took care of them within seconds.

Until she felt a presence behind her. 

Instinctively, she elbowed them in the stomach, using the opportunity to turn around and push them against the floor. Her mouth dropped when she was finally hovered above him, her knees digging into his arms, locking him in position.

“Not a bad move, Rook.” Lucanis said, coughing between his words.

“Are you insane? I could have killed you!” Rock angrily whispered, immediately putting her dagger away.

“Please, Rook. I let you tackle me. Why miss out on an opportunity to get overpowered by a beautiful woman? ” he answered, a chuckle between the coughs.

It should have made her happy. The small flirts between them.

But instead, it just reminded her about her own frustrations. The impatient feeling, the guilt.

Without responding, she got up and offered him a hand. Pulling him up.

“Rook?” Lucanis asked, concerned. He had expected a matching response.

“We should focus on the mission.” Rook responded, perhaps a little colder than she intended.

“Where do you think your grandmother is? I already checked the east wing, but no luck so far.”

It felt like he was catching on, but the mission’s urgency kept him from investigating further. Instead he started leading the way, casually sharing childhood memories whenever he saw something familiar. 

He hasn’t been home for so long - and yet she couldn’t bring herself to fully enjoy his stories. Once Catharina had been saved and Ilario confronted, Rook would return to the Lighthouse and spend some time alone in her room. Clear her head.

That sounded like a good plan at least.

“She must be here.” Lucanis said, stopping in front of a door not too far from his childhood room. 

Rook motioned to get ready, just in case.

Once the door opened, a cane started swinging around aggressively - until Lucanis grabbed it.

“My grandson!” Catharina gasped in disbelief.

Rook stepped away for a bit, not wishing to interrupt their reunion.

“You are mad as us. Why?!” Rook suddenly heard in her head.

Spite??

“Answer! It is…. distracting him!” Spite responded telepathically.

Rook wasn’t sure how Spite was talking to her. Based on how Lucanis was acting, he didn’t seem to be aware of it either.

I’m not mad. I’m just trying to focus.

“Hurt. Longing. Is it loneliness? No. It smells like… disappointment!” Spite continued on.

The last thing Rook wanted was a conversation about her feelings. With Spite. She imagined a mental block around her head - it must have worked because the last thing she heard was a disapproving growl from Spite. And then it was quiet again.

“Thank you, Rook! For returning my grandson.” Catharina said gratefully, looking over to Rook.

“He did half of the work. We should really bring you somewhere safe.” Rook quickly responded, rejoining them.

“Nonsense. Now go and stop Ilario, I won’t be far behind.” Catharina responded, waving her cane around again.

The expression Lucanis made, said enough  - there was no way to convince Catharina to change her mind..

—

“You must feel relieved having your grandmother back. Any plans for Ilario?” Rook asked, as they were approaching the gathering.

“I don’t know. But one way or another, he needs to pay.” Lucanis said, approaching the giant door.

One could hear Ilarios' speech from the outside. Monologues about how he was grieving Catharina’s death. How Lucanis was a shame to the family and the crows due to becoming an abomination.

And that he was taking the title of the first talon for himself.

“Whatever happens, I’m with you.” Rook said, preparing herself for battle.

“I know. Let’s finish this.”

And with that, the door was kicked open.

Everything happened so fast.

Ilario didn’t hesitate to attack Lucanis on sight, backed by venatori.

The crows, unsure who to believe, were fumbling around.

But like many other fights, this one was about to end quite fast.

“They will never accept you. You’re an abomination!” Ilarios screamed at Lucanis, almost like a child who wasn’t picked for a group activity. Most of his venatory allies had fallen by now.

“Are you sure you’re not stuck with a demon yourself, Ilario? Even Spite sounds saner than you do right now.” Rook said loudly, currently finishing off remaining venetario on the opposite side of the hall.

Embarrassment was plastered on Ilarios face. The sheer audacity of being compared to a demon. And despite having little backup left, he used whatever remaining blood magic he had to teleport himself past the crows.

“You will pay for this insult!” Illario yelled, appearing in front of Rook with a dagger in hand. Ready to stab her in the chest.

Growing up with the shadow dragons taught her well - especially on how to deal with crazy individuals that were about to stab you. There were different ways to make them stop,  even for a few seconds. They just need to believe they won. 

So Rook didn’t defend herself. Didn’t use any magic spells.

Instead she positioned herself in a way, so that the dagger would end up between her armpits. Her clothes were already torn at a few places, covered in blood. It would be hard to tell whether she was really hit or not. And a delusional blood mage wouldn’t know the difference either.

To dramatize the moment, Rook let out a terrible cry that melted together with Ilario’s victory laugh.

And multiple people shouting in the background?

Rook couldn’t focus too much on it, as she was busy taking a few steps back. Holding the dagger close, while she fell on her knees. And then to her sides, closing her eyes.

“Let this be a lesson for anybody who insults Ilario-”

The sound of something smashing against the wall echoed across the hall. Followed by a demonic snarl.

“They. touched. Rook! They die!” 

That must be Spite.

Oh…

Rook realized that she never discussed her cinematic move with the others. Neve was used to it. She had witnessed it too many times during their missions.

She hated it. But she couldn’t deny how it made enemies feel overconfident. Prone to making mistakes. Better to catch off guard.

But not something to do with unaware participants.

When Rook carefully opened her eyes, another body flew against a wall. Ilario was still standing next to her, looking in another direction. His entire body tensed up in shock. Apparently Lucanis/Spite had been brutally throwing any Venatory standing in their way against the stone walls.

“Cousin, you need to calm down. They are already dead!” Teia yelled at Lucanis, but Viago held her back.

The final stand was Lucanis/Spite finally reaching Ilario, grabbing him by the throat and hurling him across the hall. The impact was strong enough to make Ilario break a few pieces of furniture in the process.

“Not. Enough. He needs to… suffer!” Lucanis and Spite shouted, as if they’d merged.

He quickly kneeled next to Rook and despite his pupils not being visible, his narrowed eyebrows showed enough concern.

“I’m fine.” Rook whispered, already feeling bad for the entire thing.

“No! He hurt you. He hurt us!” Lucanis/Spite responded back, hissing.

He was going to kill them all. If he hadn’t done so already.

“I think you already punished them well enough. Here, look.” Rook said, grabbing the dagger and pulling it out.

“See? No blood. Your cousin just has a terrible aim. He thought he won and that made him arrogant, distancing himself from his allies.” Rook explained, though she wasn’t sure how much lucanis/spite caught in their frenzied state.

“No… blood.” Lucanis/Spite whispered back.

During all this, Viago and Teia used the moment to tie Ilario down. All the other venatori were dead due to… impactful wall slammings. 

“You’re disgraceful, all of you. It’s not enough he’s an abomination, but he also kneels?! How the crows have fallen!” Ilario continued to shout, but his defeat was imminent. 

Rook slowly lifted herself off the ground, kneeling next to him.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about this little… stunt I use from time to time. Neve hates it too. I won’t do it again and-”

Lucanis pulled Rook against him, wrapped his arms around her as the purple glow in his eyes started fading away.  Burying his face against her neck.

“Never again.” he growled. 

Rook squeezed his arm as a confirmation. The embrace ended with him taking her hand and raising Rook back to her feet with him.

All the yelling subsided when Catharina finally entered the halls. Even Ilario finally closed his mouth.

Rook didn’t dare speak. As the situation calmed down, Teia and Viago complimented her on the dramatic stunt. Thanked her for all the help she’s given.

Rook politely nodded. She could feel Lucanis staring at her. Avoiding any instances of aggravating him further would be wise.

That, until Catharina announced him as the first talon. At this point, he was swarmed by crows. People who wanted to start building connections. Others who just wanted to share a celebratory drink.

Getting through the crowd would be impossible.

“I’m going home. Could you tell Lucanis when you catch him? I think I have worried him enough for one day.” Rook said to Viago.

He nodded and then sheepishly smiled at Rook. 

“What? What is it?” Rook asked, confused.

“Take care of my cousin, Rook. Enjoy your night.” he responded, slapping her shoulder in a friendly manner.

Rook shrugged and started heading towards the Eluvian. She looked back once more and managed to make eye contact with Lucanis. With hand motions, she quickly pointed towards the Eluvian and then waved goodbye. Before he could respond, Lucanis was swarmed by another wave of crows.

—

When Rook made it to her room, she wanted to throw herself onto the bed. What a day it was.

But these clothes had to go. 

She quickly slipped out of the blood soaked fabric that was already torn in a few places. Doesn’t look like it can be repaired.

She left it on the floor and moved to the baths. It was so late at night, she doubted anybody was going to notice.

After a good cleanup, a few bruises became visible. Nothing fatal. But some were going to stick around for a while. Especially the deep purple ones. 

Too lazy to dress up, Rook grabbed a robe and headed back to her bedroom. But she was hungry. There was no time to eat during the ordeal. Maybe the kitchen had something? Even just a snack.

She quietly snuck her way into the kitchen. Perhaps she could gather a few cookies and eat them in bed! Nobody would notice. It would be her little secret. It was also doubtful that Lucanis would already be back from his celebration.

“Rook.”

She froze. Her hand was so close to grabbing a cookie.

“Oh! You’re back already?” she responded, turning around. Caught in the act.

Lucanis was sitting on the couch. A cup in his hand, presumingly coffee.

“Yes.” he responded.

“I was actually going to come visit you in your room. After I had finished my drink.” he added.

“Visit me so late at night? Whatever for?” Rook responded as a joke.

But he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead Lucanis took another sip of his coffee.

“You’re wearing a robe.”

Suddenly Rook started feeling very shy. 

“Ah, yes. I was covered in blood and wanted to check for bruises. Nothing bad, luckily.”

There was tension. And she wasn’t sure in which direction it was going to go.

The sound of her heartbeat made it difficult to focus.

“I… should go. Get out of this bathrobe.” she added and slowly took a step back.

“A good idea.” he said, taking the last sip. And then placing the cup back on the table.

“You can then show me the bruises.” 

It took a moment for her to register what he said.

That, until he stood up and started walking towards her. Rook took another step backwards, only to find herself clashing against the kitchen table behind her.

It was too late now. Any means of escape were blocked. Lucanis stood in front of her, resting his hands on both sides - pinning Rock against the table.

“I thought you were dead.” he finally said.

Lucanis didn’t shy away from eye contact. Rook looked down instead, ashamed. At least until he gently lifted her chin.

“I was going to kill them all.”

His hand slowly moved to her cheek, caressing it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” she whispered back.

“You didn’t think I would react?” Help me understand, Rook.”

“No! It’s just… I didn’t think you would react like that. I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t sure where I stood with you, so I decided to focus on the mission and do my thing.” 

“And has today cleared your doubts?” he asked, his thumb brushing against her lips.

She didn’t respond. And somehow she already felt breathless.

“Mierda.”

His lips clashed against hers. It didn’t take long for Rook’s to wrap her arms around his neck. Her hands grabbing onto him. Lucanis lifting Rook and placing her on the kitchen table, keeping her close.

It felt needy. Urgent. Especially when his tongue was starting to dance with hers, moaning into her mouth. 

He grabbed onto her waist, pressing himself against her. From all the movement, Rook’s bathrobe was starting to slip and any exposed shoulders were bitten, licked or kissed. 

What they didn’t realize was all the noise. Every moment caused a plate to fall. Cutlery clashing against other metallic objects. 

They finally froze when somebody yelled “What is going on down there?!”

After that, silence. Followed by quiet chuckles between them.

“I know it’s not honorable, but we could pin it on Manfred.” Rook suggested, fixing her robe.

“Hmm… No, I’ll tell them the truth.” Lucanis smirked, kissing Rook on the forehead and giving her space again. 

“And what is that? Sorry, I was fooling around in the kitchen?” Rook asked.

“Fooling around is a temporary notion. I intend to keep you for a long time.”

Lucanis smirked again, witnessing Rook blushing. 

“Now go rest. I’m still planning on inspecting your bruises sometime soon.”

Before Rook could respond, Lucanis had returned to his room. 

Falling asleep would be difficult after such a promise.

[godborn]

if this was an inbox call, would you like it??

[halemerry]

I’m doing it. I’m breaking down the Scene. You know the one. I've been tearing it apart for a week straight now in discord and figured I should leave my observations here. So, uh, yeah, this one's a big one so buckle up folks!

I want to start with the build up because I can never leave well enough alone and because I think the framing we have coming into this sequence is important. We start with the camera on Mr. Acts of Service himself. Crowley, after banishing Muriel, starts cleaning up the bookshop. The music playing is the soft slow rendition of the opening theme. He is returning this space to the status quo, resetting back to normal, fully intending to do this for Aziraphale before dragging him out to the Ritz, falling back on their typical pattern of going out together for food and drink.

Now in a moment he's going to get interrupted by Nina and Maggie but before we get there I want to take a second to draw attention to the area of the bookshop that Crowley will be operating in for the bulk of this. This space is one we very frequently see Aziraphale in. It's his desk behind the till - a spot linked intrinsically to him, even down to the fact that it's located on the east side of the shop. The windows are throwing beams of light onto Aziraphale's chair and onto the same spot Crowley will stand during The Scene. This lighting choice will not change from now until our last shots in the bookshop and the way the blocking plays around these sunbeams is very aware (as Good Omens nearly always is) of exactly where they will land.

Nina and Maggie enter the scene to have a chat about boundaries and communication. Maggie, his own mirror, tells him flat out that he can't play with their lives like that. Maggie and Nina then both tell him that he and Aziraphale need to talk. And I don’t think they're wrong, exactly, but I do think that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually a lot better at communicating in general than they are in these following high stakes scenes. But that's some meta for later - for now I want to just focus on the particular way Crowley's been primed for the conversation he and Az are about to have. Nina in particular does something really interesting. She does exactly what we as the audience did when we first saw Nina and Maggie: she mistakenly projects herself onto Crowley. She says he has trust issues because she does and in the process accidentally frames the core of their problem as Crowley needing to allow himself to trust Aziraphale, a thing that he actively already does and has done for quite some time and has been shown to us several times throughout the two seasons.

Now the build up we get for Aziraphale going into this conversation is very small. By which I mean practically non-existent. We start at the end of his conversation with the Metatron who tells him to go tell his friend the good news - which notably does not imply that the news is something that would require Crowley to make a choice - and sends Aziraphale on his way. Now the most crucial thing in this sequence, to me, is the expressions Aziraphale makes when he thinks the Metatron isn't looking at him. While polite and smiley when engaged with him, Az's expression falls as soon as he doesn't have eyes on him. Something is wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale enters the shop. The doorway is dark and shadowy and he hasn't composed himself yet - though he does give Nina and Maggie a little smile as they leave. Then, as soon as they're not looking at him, but before he approaches Crowley, the tension is back.

He hesitates, then smiles and approaches Crowley. Crowley, planted dead center in that beam of light from earlier, takes off his glasses and promptly starts nervously rambling. The music cuts off here entirely, giving us nothing to focus on but the noises coming from our lead actors, the background noise from the street, and the ticking of the clock in the background. Aziraphale puts up his hands like he's going to interrupt then lowers them again as Crowley keeps talking, his face shifting into this helpless sort of smitten look.

Now look at the light and how it hits the bookshelves behind Crowley as he tries to get his confession going. It's in the shape of a wing. Keep an eye on that - when the camera chooses to show us this one wing of light is important.

Aziraphale then interrupts and there are two things I want to draw attention to here as Aziraphale fumbles for words. First of all is the fact that he glances in the direction of the door (and the Metatron) at least three times as he's struggling to speak.

Secondly, I want to draw attention to the words Az actually says here. He first echoes the Metatron's earlier statement about good news. He then does not roll into the news itself and instead glances at the door and says the Metatron. He starts rambling about the Metatron to a very confused looking Crowley and evetually talks his way into that the Metatron said something. He then hits a wall again, scrambling to find words and instead of explaining the context of what the Metatron says he lands on Gabriel. His brain latches onto someone obviously on the forefront of both their minds and something vaguely relevant to the news he's about to share. He rambles more about Gabriel's job, glancing once again at the door in the middle of this, still avoiding getting to the actual point or perhaps even synthesizing said point as he goes.

We then cut to what is framed as a flashback. I think it is very notable we only see this as Az is telling it to us. In other words that this is not us witnessing an event happening but us witnessing what Aziraphale is telling Crowley. This sequence is the single scene where the Metatron calls Crowley by name despite actively avoiding it in any real time continuity sequences. He uses it twice here which I think also is the strongest thread in here that tells us that we are seeing what Crowley is being told not necessarily what actually happened.

The instant the idea of restoring Crowley comes up the wing of light behind Crowley loses visibility. Crowley's speechless for a moment so Aziraphale fills the silence, already looking like he wants to cry as he talks about the old days. (I also can't help but to notice that the lights behind Az in this shot look like eyes.) Crowley finally speaks and circles around the beam of light he's been standing in like an object seeking to re-establish a source of gravity. The music cuts back in here with tense drawn out notes.

Crowley talks about how Hell offered him his place back and he turned them down. Aziraphale in turn presses on ideas that we know he doesn't really believe. It's a echo of the bandstand and uses a lot of the same language of that fight - another fight we know features Aziraphale saying things he knows aren't true. By now, we have seen him multiple times this season express he does not want to go back and make it abundantly clear that the side they have made for themselves is important to him. We see him actively calling angels bad and incompetent, contrary to everything he's telling Crowley here. We see him be the one to repetitively remind Crowley that they are on their side and be the one that always draws attention to that first. Yet here he says Heaven is the side of light to Crowley - who by the way is literally framed in light. The frame is telling us outright that Crowley is already Good as he is, while Az's expressions are telling us he knows Heaven isn't.

Aziraphale can't tell him that he did not turn down the job and Crowley does another orbit. The music cuts again. This time, he stops with his back to Az, tilts his head upward and decides to ruin me by invoking God.

Here he is, hearing these awful things that he was sure they had moved on from, hearing these things he has tried for so long and so hard to help them both unlearn. But these sorts of habits and lessons are insidious and he knows that and he himself is even a victim of that himself. I mean, don't get me wrong, he recognizes this is weird, I think, but between his own self worth issues and the stress of the few days they'd had can't work out what exactly is off here. He's confused and lost and just been told, in his mind, that he is not good enough as he is - a thing he has always on some level also believed. Yet he reaches out to the parent that taught him that lesson in the first place for strength and grounds himself with that. He circles back to stand in the beam of light and, with that wing of light finally backlighting him again, he is brave and tries to be enough anyway. He bows his head downward, fully emerging the line of this body in the light and tries again. Because even now, even after that emotional blow, Crowley is an optimist who can't help but to try.

At first Aziraphale can't figure out quite what is going on here. He squints at Crowley and glances at the door again. Crowley meanwhile keeps continually glancing upward, whether at God or to hold back tears or some combination of both. In most of these shots Crowley bisects the room, creating a dark half to his left and a light half to his right.

Crowley says he relies on Aziraphale. Even here, even now when he's just hurt him. Because it is the truth. Because Aziraphale makes him feel less alone. Because Aziraphale proves to him that no matter how fucked the system is that there is still good in the world, even if he doesn't always agree with it.

It is only once there is no doubt what Crowley is doing that Aziraphale starts shaking his head in very small quick shakes. He looks panicked even as they both physically draw closer to each other. It's huge not here, not like this energy to me. Aziraphale asks Crowley to come with to help him run Heaven. This is the point where Crowley starts tearing up.

Crowley then says you can't leave this bookshop, trying to say you can't leave me. Az, nearly in tears himself, says 'oh Crowley. Nothing lasts forever' as a means to convey that the books aren't what is important here. Crowley, naturally, hears 'including us.'

Crowley looks down again, quietly agrees, and puts on his glasses, covering himself up again. He then wishes Aziraphale good luck and the music starts up again, still tense but sorrowful now. He leaves the light and heads to the door. Az can't help but to call after him. Please wait. And Crowley can't help but to listen. It's worth noting here that even as he rotates toward the north door, the light still gently hits his face. The shots in general are darker though. He's moved away from the light but it still can't help but to touch him.

"Come with me," says Aziraphale and then after a pause adds "To Heaven." Aziraphale, looking heartbroken, starts one of two 'I' statements he will struggle around in the next few moments. He lands on I need. Which. I want to pause there a moment because holy shit. That is not something they say out loud either. Az looks at him a moment, visibly struggling before he says his dialogue about Crowley not understanding his offer. Like he's said something he didn't mean to and needs to cover it up or like he can't handle the silence after such an honest statement. And on some level he's not wrong there. Because Crowley doesn't understand what Aziraphale is trying to say. But Aziraphale doesn't understand the way Crowley is reading it to course correct either.

Crowley says that he does understand and that he understands better than Aziraphale does. And he also isn't wrong either, from his perspective. Because he does understand the implications behind the offer theoretically in play here. Because he does know that the position Aziraphale is presenting him is not going to result in the outcome Aziraphale is presenting him with. There are some things you can't undo just like memories slipping through the cracks.

Az says there's nothing more to say, trying to dismiss Crowley despite having been the one to pull him to a stop moments ago. He puts on a fake polite smile for a beat but then his is jaw sets, mouth working as his eyes drop - unable to look Crowley in the eye.

Crowley tells him to listen as the music fades out and points upward. Aziraphale humors this, glancing up a few times before looking frustrated, saying he can't hear anything. The light from the window shines down in his direction without actually touching him. Crowley tells him "That's the point. No nightingales." The shot he's on here is a dark one without even any of the book shops pillars visible in it to brighten the shot.

Aziraphale looks frozen a moment here and then as Crowley calls him an idiot and says 'we could have been us' his face completely crumbles. He rapidly glances away to hide his face and Crowley moves and reaches to pull him back. They're both distraught. Az is clearly already holding back tears even before Crowley touches him. The angle of this shot frames Aziraphale in the light of the window. For the first time in this whole sequence Aziraphale is in the light, literally being physically pulled into it by Crowley.

The music swells, playing a similar theme to the one that plays as the Pillars of Creation are formed at the start of the season. They shift back and forth, the camera focusing on Aziraphale's face and hands. His hands move uncertainly, trying to reach out even as he's struggling emotionally. He is visibly shaking but he crucially does not pull away, not even a little.

His hands settle on Crowley's back, right where his wings would be, and for a brief moment gets taller, like he's allowing himself to lean into the kiss. They press together tightly, their mutual gravity sending them crashing together before they break apart. When they do Aziraphale looks devastated and his eyes move pretty much instantly to look out the window where the Metatron would be.

Crowley's glasses make him harder to read here, but he looks at Aziraphale like a man awaiting judgement in a trial he knows he's already lost. He's sad too, but as always, is waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. Because he might push continually at he boundaries of them as a unit but he has always let Aziraphale decide where to set them in stone.

Az fumbles over words here. He gets stuck on "I" here and lets it hang in the air. He then visibly thinks his words over, his expression slowly filling with resolve as he comes to some sort of conclusion. Then, like it's difficult to say, he falls back into old coded language. "I forgive you." A thing he has always said in response to things that he agrees with but cannot or should not allow himself to have.

Crowley sighs and tells him not to bother, refusing to fall into the old pattern that Aziraphale has. He is setting a boundary, for once, and even if it is one born from misunderstanding I am proud of him for being able to. He turns away and leaves. And this is where Az seems most in danger of falling apart. His lips move as Crowley goes, forming the start of a 'no' after him. He draws back from the door and turns his body away from it, physically distancing himself from anything that would feel like following Crowley. Except he can't help himself. With shaking hands he reaches up to touch his lips. He presses in, like he's trying to recreate the pressure and then his jaw works a moment and his expression sets as resolved.

The Metatron enters through the front door, which is framed in dark lighting. Aziraphale looks panicked and immediately turns his whole body away from him to hide his face while he collects himself.

He turns around after a beat and the Metatron asks 'how did he take it?' This is an odd question that only sort of half fits the fact that we are meant to believe at this point - that Aziraphale should be obtaining a yes or no from Crowley. It's not asking Crowley's choice at all. It's like the Metatron assumed a different conversation had happened or perhaps that he already knew the answer.

Aziraphale says he took it badly and the Metatron just takes a moment to direct a few casual digs at Crowley. He references him being stubborn and too curious - all the while avoiding the use of this name. At this point Az's eyes are locked out the window in the direction Crowley vanished to. The Metatron asks if he's ready to start despite originally having promised Az time to think over his answer. Aziraphale keeps glancing out the window.

For a moment he cracks, stepping away from the Metatron and back toward the east side of the bookshop. For the only time in this whole sequence he steps right into the sunbeam Crowley started in. It notably never illuminates his face as he mentions the issue of his bookshop (a statement absolutely not about the bookshop).

The Metatron explains Muriel will take care of it. Aziraphale looks back out the window with the start of an objection.

The Metatron interrupts him asking if there's anything he needs to take with him. Az's mouth takes a moment to try and form words. He steps out of the light again, starts to object, and then cuts off, eyes back to the window. Then his expression shifts again, settling in another state of resolve before he puts on his falsely polite face and follows the Metatron out.

As they leave the shop we cut back to Crowley. Crowley, who could've left to go handle his own emotions, did not leave. Instead he planted himself there, nice and noticeable. Like he wanted Aziraphale to see and know that he still has a choice. Like he needs to see Aziraphale make that choice for himself. Like he can't quite bring himself to be the one to close that last door. He stands there, framed by light, and doesn't move until the doors to the elevator to Heaven close behind Aziraphale. He then glances at Nina and Maggie and then gets in the Bentley, which starts playing the song that we now know he knows is supposed to be theirs. He turns off the music and drives away.

So there's a lot in these sequences and most of it probably won't help us figure out exactly what comes next, but there are definite signs that all is not as it's being presented to us. Whether he's actively lying or not, something is wrong that Aziraphale either can't or won't talk about frankly with Crowley. I suspect, whether it's under stress from a literal threat or because he believes that it is the safest option for them, that Aziraphale is doing all of this to protect Crowley.

There are also all sorts of signals here, especially in the lights, that gesture at the fact their togetherness is a net good. Together they are balanced and stronger for it and likely more in alignment with the Ineffable Plan. And, more importantly than that, that said togetherness is so clearly what they both want. They have loved each other longer than anything alive has ever loved anyone and none of this changes that. They both are saying that in their own ways here, even if those ways are not ones the other is particularly good at picking up and I for one cannot wait to get to see the payoff of them learning how to.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Hated - Ethan Landry - Part 2

Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT. - Minors DNI

Part 1

Summary: Ethan's hated you for a while, but a little bit of time alone and a heated argument leads to something more.

A/N: Send in requests, I need the inspiration <3

As you sat down in the living room with Ethan, Chad looked back and forth between the two of you. He was suspicious, because you wanted to kill each other yesterday.

“Uh, I um,” Ethan mumbled, so you cut him off, “He was helping me get back into my school account. I locked myself out of it earlier.”

“Oh, cool. Well, the rest of the guys are coming over soon,” Chad said, as Ethan’s leg started to bounce. He wanted to have some alone time with you, and that can’t happen if the rest of the friend group comes over.

“When will they be here?” You asked, relaxing on the couch.

“In like, an hour. I’m going to leave in a few to get pizza, you guys want to come with?” Chad asked, as Ethan was struggling to sit still.

“I think I’m going to hang out here. It’s my turn to pick the movie tonight, and I need to pick the perfect one so Mindy doesn’t give me shit,” you said, exchanging a quick glance with Ethan.

“I have a ton of homework I need to work on,” Ethan said, as Chad headed to the door.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon. Don’t kill each other.”

The second Chad was out the door, Ethan was on you. You finally had to push him back, “Let’s go to your room.”

Your clothes were shed yet again, as Ethan hovered over you. “You want me to eat you out again?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. His determination to please you was so attractive.

“Shouldn’t you let me take care of you?” You asked, placing kisses along his jawline.

“As much as I’d love that, I won’t last long. I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said, moaning as you lightly bit his neck.

“Ethan, it’s okay if you don’t last long. Please don’t think you’re disappointing me, because this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you said, trying to assure him that this experience was more about him than you.

“We can do this again?” he asked, his anxiety starting to fade.

“Of course we can,” you whispered, kissing him on the tip of his nose.

He walked over to his bedside table, rummaging for the unopened box of condoms that he kept just in case. After grabbing one and putting it on, he came back over to you, resuming his place on top of you. He nudged around at your entrance, his nerves getting the best of him.

“Hey, when you put it in, go slow,” he nodded, before slowly inching his way into you. He kept watching your face, looking for any signs of discomfort. He really wanted to take care of you, and it was mind-blowing. Most guys only care about their own satisfaction when it comes to sex.

Once he was fully inside you, you nodded for him to keep going.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he said, as he continued to rock his hips into yours. It didn’t take long before you were close. He was filling you up perfectly, hitting all the right spots.

You reached your hand down to rub circles on your clit, and he felt like he could cum at the sight alone. You felt yourself tightening around him, and his eyes started to roll back.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m cumming,” you moaned, gripping his biceps as your body started to shake.

Ethan couldn’t form words as he filled the condom, the fucked-out expression on his face telling you everything you needed to know.

“Can we really do that again?” he asked as his breathing returned to normal.

“Only if you don’t start hating me again,” the small laugh that left your mouth was his new second favorite sound, the first being the way you moan.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” he said, as you both stood up to get dressed.

[frvnkcastles]

I'd love something where the reader used to work at The Beef from the bear show, bur had to move to NYC and met Frank, she ends up feeding him the best Beef this side of the east coast and he instantly falls in love, then she makes him the Family Spaghetti and he's like "I wanna fuckin marry her" internally? Fluff?

But the reader is very much cooking out of stress as that's how she feels she can i guess win people over to stick around?

(I was the cunt in school on wedges day where I'd shout every one in my group wedges since otherwise I think they wouldn't stick around me,I wasn't smart enough for them but I paid for food.

I still do this with my baking business)

HONEY, DON’T YOU LEAVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You and Frank bond over your cooking, but you can’t shake the feeling that that’s all he wants from you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, language, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Gahhhhh, I am so annoyed that I’m being so slow with requests but college is back in motion and it has NOT been a soft landing, I have been immediately flooded with things to do. On top of that I’ve just been really tired and unmotivated, but I’m trying my best to write at least a little every day! Anon, thank you so much for your patience. I don’t really do crossovers so it’s never specified where the reader worked before, but I hope you like it anyway! I’m sending you so much love <3

Frank fell in love with you quicker than he cared to admit. He had closed himself off from the possibility of finding someone new, not really interested in making connections of any kind, but you came and conquered his heart with immense ease.

It was complete luck, too. It wasn’t unusual for him to pay a visit to a diner for some food and coffee, but you definitely weren’t supposed to be there. You had a history of working in fairly successful restaurants, yet when you had moved to New York, you faced great difficulty with landing a job that you actually wanted. The places you thought were right on your level turned you down, but you needed money for rent, so you lowered your standards, and wound up working for a diner — the same one Frank stumbled into that night.

It had been mostly uneventful and quiet, and you were left alone with the responsibility of closing. There were no other customers except Frank, but he didn’t seem that open to conversation, so you stayed stationed behind the cash register.

And then, two armed men burst in, their faces concealed with ski masks as they held you at gunpoint. With shaky hands, you began to empty the register, but you didn’t have the time to hand over all the money when one of the guys was knocked out to the ground. You flinched, watching in shock and fear how your only customer beat up the other guy and wrangled the gun out of his hands only to whip him in the face with it. You didn’t know what to do, but it seemed he didn’t need your help — within a minute, both armed men were rushing out of the diner with their tails between their legs.

Stunned speechless, you stared at the tall, rugged man who remained. He caught his breath and then turned to you, his sharp features making you swallow. ”You okay, ma’am?” he grunted, his deep voice incredibly enchanting, and you managed a nod. He was about to turn and return to his seat but you found your voice and spoke up.

”Thank you. Let me make it up to you”, you uttered out, making him halt but the look he gave you was almost amused.

”You don’t owe me anythin’, ma’am”, he replied casually, but you weren’t budging.

”Well, I kinda do. Anyway, the food here is… not that great, so maybe you could let me cook for you? Um, we’re closed tomorrow so there’d be no one else here”, you explained, the words coming out of your mouth before your brain fully processed what you were promising him. You were really yearning to cook again, something other than eggs and bacon, and he had definitely earned it.

He eyed you up and down, weighing his options for a second before reluctantly nodding. ”Aight. If you insist”, he agreed, sparking a smile on your face as you nodded to confirm that you weren’t having it any other way. You told him what time to arrive, and as he returned to finish his sandwich, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The next day, you got to the diner early and started working on what you hoped would be a meal to remember. You were mostly excited, and at least cooking kept you busy, which meant you didn’t have the time to worry about being alone with the man. Although he had saved your life, it was hard not to be intimidated by him.

As soon as he arrived at the diner, though, he quickly proved to you that there was nothing to fear. He called you ma’am right up until you told him your name and insisted that there was no need to be formal, and when he introduced himself, he did it in a way that was undeniably charming — and polite. You had seen him around the diner enough to know that he wasn’t a chatty person, but as you brought out the food, he attempted to get to know you better and it made your heart race.

You maintained small-talk, but you couldn’t deny you were nervous to find out what he thought of the food. Once he dug in, though, his eyes immediately widened.

”Wow”, Frank blurted out, a little taken aback by the sheer deliciousness. ”Sweetheart, this is amazin’. Where’d you learn how to cook like this?” he inquired, far too curious to not ask.

With heat on your face, you smiled. ”Uh, well, cooking classes mostly. I used to work at a restaurant. Hopefully I will again some day soon. And a lot of practice at home, of course”, you explained, and nodding along your story, Frank divided his attention between the heavenly food and your equally enthralling voice.

”I bet you will. Your talents are wasted in this place”, he commented, making you chuckle softly.

He didn’t stop praising you throughout the meal, but he also asked follow-up questions, keen to learn everything about you. In return, he vaguely opened up about himself, though you could tell he was holding back a little.

That said, the time you spent in that diner over that meal was enough for him to get hooked on you. He kept stopping by for weeks until he finally got the nerve to ask you on a date, suggesting that you’d make dinner together. It hadn’t taken you long to start falling for him, either, so it was easy to agree to what you didn’t realize would bloom into a serious relationship.

Truthfully, you sort of skipped the casual phase. Frank could be an intense man when it came to relationships, even if he hadn’t really thought he would find himself in one. Nevertheless, he felt strongly about you early on, and your first date developed into constantly spending time at each other’s places and sharing a bed on most nights. He tried his best to impress you with his cooking, and while it certainly wasn’t awful, there was a lot you could teach him — and he received the help willingly, eager to listen to you and learn more about your number one passion.

The night that you cooked the spaghetti recipe that your family had followed for years, he was done for.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so captivated by you, and the food, he would have noticed the tension in your shoulders and the constant chewing on your bottom lip. You were quickly falling back into the bad habit of weighing your own worth based on your cooking, convinced that the moment you’d stop making all these elaborate meals for Frank, he would walk out on you. Your way with food was undoubtedly a perk of dating you, and right now, you were struggling to think of any other ones.

”I hope you like it”, you smiled nervously as you handed over the plate of spaghetti to Frank. He gave you an affectionate look and thanked you before giving the food a go, and in an instant, his heart soared.

The food was amazing, but so were you. You had so much talent in you, and when Frank looked up from the plate and met your gaze, he felt so much love in his heart. He admired you and everything you did, finding you so utterly beautiful and amazing and… God, he wanted to marry you.

He had to fight the urge to just announce it there and then, giving you a small smile. ”I’m speechless, sweetheart. You outdo yourself every time. I’m one lucky asshole”, he declared proudly, making you smile but you couldn’t hide the anxiety in your eyes. Would he consider himself lucky if you didn’t cook for him tomorrow?

He noticed the hesitation on your face, though. ”Hey, darlin’. Somethin’ wrong?” he asked with worry evident in his voice, and you rushed to wave it off.

”I’m okay. I’m glad you like it, baby”, you promised, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

Only a week later, the issue resurfaced. You came down with the flu and you were rendered useless for a couple of days, giving you a great deal of stress. Frank was all over you, providing you with medication as well as something to drink and eat — and he was not letting you do a thing by yourself. You were his patient to care for and any attempt to get up from the couch was shot down within seconds.

Once his attention faltered from you and he disappeared in the bedroom to find you a cozy sweater, you made your way to the kitchen. Sniffling and aching all over, you began taking out pots and ingredients, and the noise immediately alerted Frank.

”Nah, nah, sweetheart, what’d I tell ya? You ain’t doin’ a thing except rest tonight. You’re sick and you need to just lay down, aight?” he reminded with a firm tone, his hands coming to cover yours in an attempt to stop you.

Reluctantly, you admitted defeat but it didn’t take long for the frustrated, anxious tears to fill your eyes. Frank’s stern expression fell and he tilted his head down at you, concern taking over.

”Hey, hey, hey. I know it sucks but you need to listen to your body right now”, he sighed, trying to understand what was making you cry. You covered your face with one hand as the tears streamed down your cheeks, and with his heart breaking, Frank hauled you into his arms, shushing you softly while wrapping you in a tight embrace.

”I just don’t want you to leave me”, you admitted faintly, and right away, Frank’s eyebrows knitted together and he pulled back to give you a confused look.

”Sweetheart, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Why would you say that?” he frowned, genuinely surprised by your confession.

With a sniffle, you shrugged. ”You love my cooking. And I guess it’s the main reason you’re with me. So, if I stop cooking… why would you stay?” you explained the logic that you had built inside your own head. But Frank didn’t agree with you, and the fond chuckle that he huffed at you was enough to imply as much.

”Baby, I do love your cooking, but it definitely ain’t the main reason I’m with you. I love you, hear me? I’m with you ’cause you’re so fuckin’ kind and understanding and real supportive. And you make me so goddamn happy. I’d still be just as in love if you stopped cooking for good, yeah? It’s great but it ain’t why I adore you so much”, he countered while lifting one hand up to your jaw and tipping it so you could meet his eye. He looked completely serious, and you really wanted to believe him.

”You mean that?” you asked carefully, and he wasted no time in nodding to confirm.

”I fuckin’ mean it. I, uh… I kinda wanna spend the rest of my life with ya”, he cleared his throat, and astonished to hear that, your eyes flew wide open and a wide smile curled your lips up high.

”Frankie… I want that, too”, you breathed out, earning a tender look from him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, the soft feeling of his lips making your heart do somersaults.

”Hey, I’mma take over the cookin’ responsibilities this week. You just get cozy on the couch and I’ll whip somethin’ up for us, yeah?” he decided, and you shot him a teasing grin.

”Sure you can handle it?” you wondered, taunting him, and he responded with a mixture of a laugh and a scoff.

”My girl’s a comedian now, huh? Get outta here”, he grumbled, gently patting your ass to encourage you towards the couch.

He may not have been as good of a cook as you were, but he made an effort and stayed true to his promise, not letting you anywhere the kitchen until you were feeling much better. And even then, he insisted on helping or occasionally being in charge, just to show you that you were a team and you didn’t owe him anything.

[k4zushi]

[ 08 ] GONNA SHIT MYSELF WTAF

status : unedited, written 01/04/24 ☆ word count : 0.8k

Y/N’S POV ⟡ COSTUME ROOM

every time you willed the universe to give you a break it found a way to somehow make matters worse.

it all started with your conversation with hu tao earlier that morning. the incident with albedo made sure that your nerves were on edge pretty much the entire day but what your friend said made you want to move across the globe and never return.

maybe if she hadn’t mentioned the possibility of running into a certain grey haired man maybe none of this would’ve happened in the first place.

you were silently freaking out at every random interaction you had. despite knowing the fact that you had no overlapping classes with cyno as he was a computer science major while you were studying fashion design; meaning you’d be studying on opposite sides of the campus.

honestly that made you even more nervous because alongside your history of “short lived crushes”, you also had a track record of bad luck. not one that could compare to a certain blonde engineering major but still bad nonetheless.

play practice was going half decently well. you had managed to escape interacting with others in the theater as you were mostly confined to the space of the costume room along side a couple other students.

it felt like you could finally breathe for the first time that day since you weren’t constantly trying to hide your presence.

“hey y/n i’m going to step out for a bit to measure some of the actors in the theater!” hu tao said, standing in the doorway. “you’ll be okay here by yourself right?”

you looked up from the racks you were sorting through.

“yea no worries. just looking through these racks from the previous years for anything we can use” you replied before turning your focus back to the costumes.

“thanks, we’ll make send anyone down if they have any questions!!” your bestfriend responded before turning to walk out.

you let out a hum in response fully diverting your attention.

it was peaceful being alone in the costume room. it was kind of dusty and cluttered but it was also filled to the brim with clothes, accessories, and fabric. the fashion design major in you was sobbing from the amount of things you could mess around with.

you were snapped out of your little headspace when you detected a new presence in the room.

curious, you peeked out from behind the racks. that, however, was your first mistake.

“um.. are you y/n?” a slightly familiar voice questioned.

you were trying to connect the dots as to why this person’s voice sounded familiar and it finally hit you as your eyes landed on the one person you didn’t want to interact with.

“yea!! how’d you know?” you said in a overly friendly tone in an attempt to cool your nerves.

cautiously, you stepped out from behind the racks to face the guy you had been avoiding all day.

“i was sent down here by hu tao,” cyno explained. “i’m cyno.”

“ohh i guess that makes sense, it’s nice to meet you! i’m on costume design for the play, just thought i should mention,” you paused to think, head tilted to the side in confusion before you continued. “did you need something from me?”

cyno shook his head.

“no, not really. just wanted to ask you a question if that’s okay”

“if it’s about costumes or the play you know i’m more than happy to answer them for—“

“do you happen to be friends with albedo?” cyno interrupted.

your sweat dropped and your nervous system started to go haywire. the urge to book it out the room and flee was overriding all of your other thoughts.

“oh haha.. uh albedo huh?” you said nervously. that was your second mistake.

“so you do???” cyno narrowed his eyes at you and took a step forward as you took a step back.

“yes…?” you looked around hoping that anyone come to your rescue and interrupt the unwanted confrontation.

when cyno took a step forward, you took a step back to maintain a safe distance away from the intimidating, yet extremely attractive, male.

this cycle continued.

that was until you realized you had effectively cornered yourself against a wall next to one of the costume racks. your third mistake.

you mentally facepalmed at your lack of spacial awareness.

“then does that mean you’re the one he was talking about?” he took another step closer.

“ahaha i have NO CLUE what you’re talking about cyno!!” you said trying to laugh off the sudden tension.

you were starting to panic. not only was this costume room stuffy and triggering your asthma but you also found it particularly hard to breathe when a really attractive guy was practically interrogating you.

and that’s how you found yourself in this awkward predicament that made you wish you had a twin that swallowed you in the womb.

‘i should just quit life huh’

“y/nnnn do you know where the measuring tape is?? it wasn’t in the theater and i can’t find— WHAT THE FUCK????”

prev ︴masterlist ︴next

AUTHOR’S NOTES : note that the costume room is going to play a ( somewhat big ) part of the story btww (*´▽`*) this was also kinda a nightmare to write bc i was fist fighting w/ the dialogue and awkward word repetition way too much😕

cyno is so silly.. ik this is from y/n’s pov so it’s hard to tell bc of his bluntness, but he’s actually genuinely curious abt the whole admirer thing. which i find hilarious bc he comes off as freakishly intimidating while confronting ppl😭 it’s bc he has somewhat of an rbf and is completely unaware of it૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ( hence the ‘lack of expression’ i mentioned in a previous chapter )

— TAGLIST : @ioveaether @otomegame-oneshots @ashyiiy @mafuyuslover @yuminako @waengyknow @sharkdays @tikitsune @jihoonotes @gallantys @keiiqq @mochibaby123 @lambcandle @ell1e2010

[noforkingclue]

Fully aware I'm shooting for the stars right out the gate, feel free to skip if you're not comfortable yet or at all. Can I have some dark nsfw? Noncon/dubcon Good Omens x reader? The reader always assumed Crowley and Aziraphale were a couple, so even after she became their captive guest, it never actually crossed her mind exactly how dark their intentions were until xyz.

Of course anon! I don't mind doing darker nsfw stuff. So please, feel free to send in more requests like this :)

Title New Changes

Warnings (please don't read if you don't like): dark fic, kidnapping, nsfw themes, non con kissing, non con touching,

You shifted awkwardly between Aziraphale and Crowley. The three of you were watching something on TV. Well, you were. Aziraphale was absorbed in a book and while Crowley seemed to be watching the TV you had a feeling that his mind wasn’t really on the show. His arm was slung over your shoulder and whenever you tried to shift away he yanked you closer. Eventually Aziraphale sighed and took off his glasses. Crowley glanced over at his partner and raised a hand. Immediately the TV switched off. An unfamiliar feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

It had been six months since Aziraphale and Crowley… took you. You had all the comforts you could need apart from being able to leave without one of the two of them. You had assumed that the two of them were together and they didn’t give you any evidence to make you think otherwise. Really, you felt like a glorified pet.

“Now then, dear,” said Aziraphale, “there’s something that Crowley and I… you’ve been here awhile now and we… the thing is…”

He sighed and looked away. You had never seen the angel like this before. You had never seen him lost for words. You moved slightly off the sofa but Crowley roughly pulled you against him. You back hit his chest and he wrapped his arms around your waist. He moved so you were facing so you were facing the angel. Crowley’s fingers skimmed along the waistband of your jeans and he rested his chin on top of your head. You suddenly felt so small and weak compared to the two of them.

Aziraphale turned and cupped your face in his hands. He gently brushed his thumbs against your cheeks and leant in closer. Panic gripped you and you tried to pull away. However, Crowley was trapping you and you couldn’t go anywhere. Aziraphale sighed and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I thought,” you said quietly, “I thought that you and Crowley… that the two of you are together.”

“We are.” said Crowley

“Then why,” you swallowed thickly, “I’m human and female. Why would you be interested in me? I didn’t think you thought of me like that.”

Crowley let out an amused snort and pressed a kiss against your neck. Even Aziraphale looked amused and he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. You flinched slightly at the touch and he immediately pulled his hand back. Crowley’s grip on you tightened and you winced.

“How very human,” Crowley practically spat the word, “of you. Do you really think that something like that would matter to us?”

“Is that why you kidnapped me?”

“Looking after you, dear,” said Aziraphale sternly, “it’s a dangerous place out and you need someone to look after you. I understand that this was a big change for you and you needed time to settle into your new life.”

“Angel insisted,” said Crowley, “giving you time to adjust. Now look where that’s gotten us.”

He glared at Aziraphale over your shoulder which Aziraphale returned with a disapproving one.

“Maybe,” the angel said, “we should’ve raised this subject with you earlier. Let you get used to the idea of being with us before we actually started.”

“So I was right.” said Crowley smugly

One of his hands sneaked up under your shirt and skimmed against your waist. You gasped at the sensation and squirmed against him. He let out a groan and rested his head between your shoulder blades.

“If you keep moving like that,” he said, “I won’t be able to hold myself back. I know you want to wait Angel but I won’t be able to.”

You gave Aziraphale a pleading look and he sighed. He forced you to look into his eye and gave you a soft look. He pressed his lips softly against yours, forcing you further back against Crowley who groaned in response. Crowley’s other hand popped open the button of your jeans and immediately your hands flew to Aziraphale’s shoulders. You gave him a gentle push and thankfully he broke the kiss. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip.

Crowley’s teeth scraped over your neck and you stiffened in his embrace. You could’ve sworn that his teeth felt sharper than before. He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your shoulder and you whined and arched into him. Aziraphale watched the two of you, his face eerily blank.

“You remember what I said,” said Crowley, “about not being able to resist.”

“Please,” you said weakly, “please no.”

“Now then dear,” said Aziraphale, “I think that’s enough for now.”

Crowley let out a soft growl and grabbed your chin. He tilted your head back and pressed a bruising kiss against your lips. You let out a squeak in response but resisted the urge to move away, Crowley’s warning still ringing fresh in your ears. When he finally broke the kiss you were gasping for air.

“Satisfied?” asked Aziraphale

“No.” he said

Aziraphale just sighed and clicked his fingers. In a second you found yourself in a bed however, it wasn’t your bed. It was far too big for one person, even for two people. You curled up in a ball and pulled the duvet up and over your head.

This couldn’t be happening.

No. No. No.

You were just going to go to sleep and when you woke up in the morning this would’ve all been a messed up, bad dream.

Your breath hitched at the sound of fulfilling feathers. Aziraphale sighed and settled behind you. He stroked your hair and pressed a kiss on the back of your head. Another noise and you realised that Crowley was also in the room.

“It’s ok,” said Aziraphale, “you’re safe with us. Get some sleep.”

“And in the morning,” said Crowley, his hand settling on your hip, “we can discuss what we didn’t do tonight.”

[pixiecaps]

hm okay so these are all federation owned islands. the purgatory one USED to be something known as an egg island. however it has clearly changed. this explains why the federation cucurucho cinematic referred to it as a chill place that would be heaven and paradise.

the watcher refers to them being sent there as “they were so kind to send you this way.” clearly the they is the federation. which insinuates the federation/cucurucho had some established conversation with whoever runs this island to send them here. or at least that the watcher somehow KNEW they were being sent here. but here’s the one important thing the federation knew what they were doing to the islanders because elq knew. he was aware of where he was going when he took qq’s ticket, he knew. so the federation very purposefully sent them to this godawful place while they do “maintenance” to the dark matter.

i also am taking note of the religious imagery. cucurucho calling this new island heaven and then the watcher calling them sinners and saying egg island was to be a cute place that they would have loved and specifically “People LIKE YOU do not deserve a pleasant little break from the stresses of your previous island island. so I’VE taken the liberty of changing this place.” so outright stating it knew they were coming relocated AND THEN purposefully changed the calm nature of what this island was into a hellscape as a form of punishment for the islanders because it HATES them. for whatever reason it seems to have it feels like a very passionate form of hate. it called them VERMIN. it fully leads me to believe the watcher knows a lot of information about the islanders and their pasts. or has been fed some information to believe they deserve this cruelty.

the direct contrast of this island compared to their own really strikes me as interesting because obviously they’re imprisoned on quesadilla island but purgatory truly is PURGATORY. in the lore they’ve never had to worry about dehydration, food rotting, etc. all aspects of their lives that they took blissfully for granted. almost as if the federation WANTED them to realize how good they have it. or seem to have it compared to purgatory. and as a reminder purgatory is a place to cleanse your sins so in a way the federation sending the islanders there is a way for them to get them reformed. show them true punishment for all the rule breaking. and get them to a mental state where they’re more likely to obey when they return. to be happy.

this part of what the watcher said was interesting, “i’m sure you’re already hungering and dehydrating. good. whatever makes it harder for you to live.” so again literally stating the whole point of the trials and tribulations is to make them suffer MORE.

the element of a cursed team is the most interesting because that does directly impact the attempt of working together. someone has to lose. someone will lose. “What team is that? Can you figure that out? No.” this felt interesting to me because with the whole thought of a cursed team it seems like you could figure it out easily. i’d say the majority of the audience already has their guesses. but i was thinking about taking this sentence very LITERALLY. they can’t figure it out. because it’s not decided yet. it’ll be decided at the end. perhaps. maybe. who fucking knows. but obviously the threat of all their lives and the eggs is an interesting aspect because that means if theres one cursed team the other two won’t have that punishment if they lose. whichever of the three teams wins gets a “big prize” but the main focus is on this supposed cursed team. because if THEY lose then the eggs are all dead. the probability is very interesting to me. i really wonder why that team cursed specifically and how its chosen.

anyways that was interesting

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Beauty of the Blue Pt. 2

A/N- i genuinely didn’t expect that fic to get so much love 🥰 thank you all for your feedback on it, i really do want to write more for him, but for some reason he’s a very tricky character for me to get down correctly. BUT, i’m glad that so many of you have been sending in requests so i get a little more practice for writing him 🖤 I may or may not turn this into a 3 part fic but i haven’t decided yet 😅

Summary- After a week of being on Buggy’s ship, you need to know why he’s been treating you so differently than you had imagined.

Genre- Fluff, Light smut at the end

Warnings- Reader has female anatomy, Buggy being a little bit of a pervert, hinting at smut near the end

Tag List- @lotr-got

(tag list is always open, let me know if you’d like to be added 🖤)

Word Count- 3.6k

If you’d like to read Part 1 you can find it here 🫶

You woke up to the sunlight shining through the window of your room, the gentle rocking of the ship awoke you further, easing your way slowly out of bed.

Your arms were stretched up over your head as you yawned, and a smile slowly came to your lips as you looked around the room.

It was small, but cozy.

Buggy had kept his promise, and he had given you nothing but the best since you’ve made your deal. Your bed had the softest blankets and pillows you’ve felt in a long while, he’d given you plenty of clothes to survive on for the next few months at sea if need be, and of course you were given as much privacy as you needed, only calling for meals as you lay in bed all day if that’s what you wished.

It was an easy life, and to be honest it was quite nice not having to ask for much anymore. You had been given every little thing you had asked for, and if his crew couldn’t get you what you wanted, Buggy would send them off on one of the lifeboats to return with what you needed and more as an apology. Out of everything else you had gotten out of your deal, Buggy was the thing you were most grateful for.

Even the crew had never seen him so eager to get up in the morning to greet you.

Each and every morning you’d woken up to him at your door, already fully dressed and ready for the day, wishing you a good morning with some breakfast if it was ready and tell you of the ships plan for the day. Thus far it hasn’t been too much of a journey. The Big Top was headed to the Grand Line, slowly but surely, and up until this point you hadn’t been asked to use your beauty to get them much of anything.

Every stop you made, Buggy would ask if you needed anything at all while they were stopped, and it felt nice to not have to be the one doing the work to get you what you needed. It was strange, having someone always doting on you rather than the other way around.

Buggy had been nothing but kind and respectful to you since you came aboard his ship, and he made sure the crew had been giving you the same treatment. You couldn’t be more grateful. Only a week in, and your life had already been changed for the better.

Though one thing had been on your mind since that night at the bar.

You figured that Buggy would’ve wanted something from you in return by now, and yet he had not asked for one thing. No intimacy, no private time together, nothing. Each and every time you had been given an offer by another captain they always wanted one specific thing from you, they made that clear, and you didn’t give it up that easy. Buggy won you over because you knew that if that was what he wanted, you wouldn’t be opposed to giving him a little something extra in return for giving you such treatment aboard his ship. And yet, he was always so respectful.

Giving you his arm to guide you wherever you went together, letting you have your privacy when you changed or bathed, and though it was nice to be able to not expect him to come into your room every night and leave after getting what he wanted, you started wishing he would.

You had caught yourself sneaking longer glances over to him, smiling whenever his gaze met yours. His touch would linger on you for a few moments longer than normal and you never wanted that sensation to leave your skin. You’d lay in bed at night wishing that you had someone warm laying next to you to hold you in their arms. You wanted it to be him.

He had already shown you another side of him, the side that could be caring and compassionate if need be, but you wanted so much more. You came onto this ship agreeing that you would be his, but now you wanted him to be yours.

Your legs hung over the edge of your bed and you smiled when you heard that familiar knock at your door.

“Come in!” You said in between yawns.

Buggy had entered with a smile, his captains hat off, a small tray in his hands with your breakfast.

“Good morning.” He said with a smile as he placed the little tray next to you on the bed, “My, my, that beauty sleep really does wonders on you.”

You giggled and looked at your hands in your lap to try and hide your blush. You had heard the way he spoke to his crew and to the islanders he had come across when going in for more supplies, and he had never used that tone with you.

“I’m glad you think so.” You reached out and sipped the tea he had brought you, “What’s on the agenda today, captain?”

“Not much more than what we did yesterday.” He approached you and sat on the other side of the tray, “No islands around, the nearest one is around a day away, so we’re just going to sail and see how long it takes us.”

You nodded and quickly grabbed the fork, picking at the little plate of fruits you were brought,

“Anything for me to do today?” You asked him, but he shook his head.

“Not a thing my dear.” He smiled and stood back up, “You just do whatever it is you always do, and i’ll take care of the rest.”

He placed his hand onto your shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, making sure none of the red on his lips transferred. He smiled down at you for a moment before clearing his throat, looking to the floor. His gaze left yours and the smile on your lips slowly faded. For some strange reason, everything felt so right with him there.

You didn’t feel alone.

“Wait!” You said to him, quickly grasping his hand and lightly pulling back, giggling as you saw it pop off of his wrist as it held yours, “Sorry…” He stepped forward and you held his hand back up to his arm, feeling the slight stretch at his wrist as it reattached itself to the rest of his body, “I still forget sometimes.”

“It’s alright,” He smiled and slowly removed his hand from yours, moving it to the side of your head, petting your hair back as he looked down to you, “I forget too sometimes…”

You shared a comfortable silence with one another, and as you looked into his eyes you could see his gaze wander and linger onto your smiling lips. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same. Though covered in red makeup, you always admired how kind his smile was.

“Would you…” You started, your train of thought being interrupted by him again. Damn him and his pretty blue eyes.

Your hand moved from your side to rest on top of his as it rested at the side of your head so tenderly,

“Would you stay? I just…” You took a deep breath, collecting yourself as he sat next to you once more, your breakfast tray being moved to the side to give himself more room, “I need to know. Why have you not asked for…” You wracked your brain, trying to find the best way to ask without blatantly having to say it, “more, from me?”

He carefully cocked his head to the side, unsure for a few moments as to what you could’ve possibly meant. When his eyes moved to your lap, watching your thighs slowly and carefully rub together beneath your nightgown, he smirked.

“Is that what you want from me?” He asked you, his gaze returning to your eyes.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you looked down to your lap to hide any emotion. You weren’t sure how to feel.

As much as you wanted to be able to give Buggy everything he needed, it seemed like he was treating you so much better than any other captain at any of the bars you had gone to ever had. He didn’t expect anything from you in return for him taking you in, and you adored how kind and respectful he was, but you were the one who wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

You shrugged, his finger moving to your chin, tilting it upwards to face him once more.

“Talk to me (y/n),” he said softly, “tell me what thoughts are racing through that pretty little head of yours.”

You took a deep breath and he sat there patiently waiting for you. He wanted to be able to make sure you were living your life to the fullest, anything you wanted you got, and he would make sure of it.

“You treat me differently than everyone else on your ship. You treat me differently than any other sea captain i’ve interacted with. I’ve seen the way you are with your crew, you’re demanding and you’re strong, and a little scary at times.” He chuckled and nodded, agreeing that his behavior with his crew could sometimes be less than rational, “You treat me better than anyone else. Every other captain that’s offered me a deal would always expect something from me in return, and i think you know what that is…” You quietly trailed off, and he could see that this was something that had been on your mind for a while.

You didn’t know why you wanted him so badly, but the way he was treating you was so unusual. At least to you it was. You were fully willing to give yourself to him whenever he asked for it, you figured it was part of your deal, but as the days had gone on he had given you your privacy and alone time, and it was lonely being by yourself at night.

“And you want to know why i haven’t asked for that from you yet, hm?” He asked.

You pursed your lips and nodded slowly. You weren’t sure what to say. Even without being able to fully finish your words, he understood exactly what you were implying.

“Well, a few reasons i suppose.” He moved his hands to hold yours gently in your lap, “The first one being, i respect you more than to just use you as my little pawn. You’re someone who has what so many other people want, and you’re someone who deserves to be shown that you’re more than a beautiful face.” He was talking sternly, seriously, he meant these things truly and deeply and you could feel him tense up as his hands held yours, “I didn’t want you to think that this partnership that we have means that i get to use you as i please, that i have the privilege of letting you be my little plaything and discarding you until you’re needed. I meant what i said in that bar (y/n), when i’m king of the pirates, i want you to be my queen. But that means nothing if it’s forced onto you.” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, holding onto every word he was saying, “Your safety, your comfort, and your needs are more important to me than this deal we have, and i would never overstep a boundary just because i knew i could.”

You knew exactly why he hadn’t made any moves before.

It wasn’t because he only wanted you for your beauty to get him closer to the One Piece. It wasn’t because he only wanted you to be a pretty little pawn sitting at his side. It wasn’t because he didn’t think you were beautiful enough to warrant those kinds of advances. He had been giving you the time and the space you needed, everything you had asked for.

You were given your own room because you hadn’t said you wanted to share Buggy’s. You were given as much privacy and alone time as you wanted because you hadn’t said you wanted him there. You were always given nothing but the best from him and his crew, and you were more than grateful, but you hadn’t realized just how much control you had with your new found partnership.

Buggy was in charge of the ship and his crew, but you were in charge of Buggy. He would do anything your heart desired just to keep you happy.

“I’m sorry that you misunderstood me at the bar, but i want to make sure you understand this relationship clearly…” He turned his body to face you, the soft fabric of his gloves softly moved as he brought your hands up as he held them, looking into your eyes, “Whatever you want, you get. All you have to do is say the word.”

His gaze never left yours and you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. He was just waiting for you to say the word and he was ready and willing to do anything you asked.

“Whatever i want?” You asked, seeing his lips curl into a smile.

“Whatever you want.”

You softly smiled, not caring wether or not he could see how he was making you feel. So warm, so comforted, and though you could still hear the noises of the crew outside your door as they did their work for the day it felt like you were the last two people on earth. He made you feel like the only girl in the world.

“Even if it’s you?” You whispered to him, your eyes finally glancing down at his red painted lips.

He chuckled, and you thought you could see a bit of pink beneath the makeup on his cheeks. It was nice to finally see him flustered for once.

“If that’s what you wish for.”

You enjoyed the silence for a few moments, just basking in one another’s company like you had wished to since you arrived on the ship. Since you came aboard you hadn’t been able to be alone with one another for more than five minutes before one of the crew came rushing to find Buggy to tell him about a new island spotted or if another crew mate wasn’t doing the work that was expected of them. He liked the silence. He liked it with you.

“So…” You trailed off, the silence moving from comfortable to awkward, neither one of you knowing what to do next, “how do we go about this?”

“Well, for starters, i’ll have you and all of your things moved into my quarters. I see no point in leaving you all by your lonesome anymore.” Your eyes got wider and your smile was bigger just at the mention of not having to be cramped up all by yourself, “And of course you’ll get all the same normal treatment, but there will be a few changes with me.”

“Changes?” Your thumbs brushed over the soft fabric of the gloves on his hands, “Such as?”

“You’re going to be seeing me a lot more often than have been my love,” He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, slowly working his way up your arm, kissing it after each new change, “we’ll share my bed, and you’re allowed to be as far away or as close to me as you like,” Your lips curled to a shy smile as he gently kissed your wrist, just imagining the warm feeling of getting to wake up in his arms each morning, “i’ll be at your beck and call, waiting to fulfill every need you have,” His lips moved to just below your elbow and a shiver ran over your body as he moved further upwards, “you’ll always be close to me, i’ll even have my freaks build you a throne so you’ll always be sitting pretty beside me,” You perked up at the thought of being able to sit and watch over the crew next to Buggy, everyone’s eyes on you just watching and waiting for you to make your rule, “and of course, every second you’re with me my dear, every waking moment that you’re here with me,” One gloved hand moved from yours to your chin, keeping it tilted up, making sure he had every ounce of your attention, “you’ll be getting every ounce of love, adoration, and worship that i have to offer.”

You were speechless.

Countless times, again and again, you’d have pirate captains and marine admirals profess their love to you. Crew mates and marines, even fish men and countless others had offered your their undying worship, but this was the first time you believed that someone wanted more than just the ability to say that they were the ones loving you.

Buggy knew you were more than that. And you could see that he really truly meant everything he said.

He didn’t want you because of your pretty face, he didn’t want you because you’re the most breathtaking creature to grace the earth on both land and sea. He wanted you for you. Everything that you had, he wanted. He loved you for more than your body, but for your soul, and he would spend hours, days, weeks, even years if it took that long to show you that he wanted to be the one worthy of having you want him too.

Your hands moved from his and for a quick moment the smile faded from his lips, only to return once he felt your soft fingertips graze his cheeks as you held him close,

“I want your love Buggy… Please?…”

Your breath was cut quickly by his lips pressing into yours, catching you so off guard that you nearly fell back onto the mattress, quickly catching yourself with your arms at your sides.

His lips were dry, yet soft, and you smiled at the gentle tickling of the stubble on his face as it grazed over yours. You couldn’t help but let out a small, needy whimper, finally feeling the rush of electricity run all through your body. And it was just from one kiss.

He pulled away from you slowly, a smile at his lips, and he couldn’t help but chuckle from seeing the little bit of red staining your lips from his makeup.

“I’m sorry,” His hand snaked behind your neck, holding it gently as he leaned down to you and pecked your lips, “I just couldn’t help it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Your hands did the same, your fingers interlocking behind his neck as his body carefully adjusted over yours, “it’s exactly what i wanted…”

The position you were in was nothing short of provocative.

You arms around him while one of his hands held you close, the other holding him up on the bed as he was leaned over you, your bodies so close to one another. The nightgown that draped over your body had been pulled up to your thighs, and you were wishing he would just get it over with and rip it off of your body, but he was too gentle with you for that. He treated you like your body was made of glass, handling you so delicately like you would break at the slightest hint of pressure. It was actually quite a talent.

His hand slowly moved from your mattress to your thigh, the glove on his hand making you shudder as you felt the corduroy fabric slowly stroking over your thigh. Though you hadn’t even noticed it, your leg had slowly moved upwards, laying just over his hip. A smirk came to his lips as he looked at your lower body, and though he had the opportunity to take a peek between your legs and see the little wet spot on your panties that was entirely his doing, he had no interest in it. He was looking down at your legs, watching them slowly moving back and forth, one at his side and the other laid against the mattress. He was making you writhe, just from a few kisses and his hands on your legs, and he loved it.

“Buggy…” You pleaded with him, just needing him to touch you. He made it so sweetly unbearable to have to wait.

A chuckle escaped his lips and he slowly looked back up into your eyes, giving your body a quick once-over just to fully take in the sight before him.

“All in good time my love.” He leaned forward once more and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “First, i want you to get all settled into my quarters. Why don’t you change and put on one of those pretty outfits i have for you, i’ll grab some of the crew to move your things around.”

He fixed your nightgown back down your legs, taking your hand and carefully pulling you up, his glove wiping away the little red marks his lips left behind.

You took a deep breath, trying to push the feeling of want back down, knowing that he’d give you what you needed eventually. You stood up from the bed and wandered over to the small wardrobe, glancing over to Buggy who had moved himself into one of the chairs across the room. His legs were spread, he was leaned back comfortably, and his eyes never left your figure as a smirk came to his lips.

“Well aren’t you going to get some of the crew?” You asked him, sifting through the hangers in the wardrobe for the perfect little outfit to wear.

“And miss the show?” He chuckled, “I never said i was leaving sweetheart…”

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love II

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: The newlyweds get to know each other on their honeymoon.

Warning: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence, alcohol, sparring, jealous!john, misogyny, smut, embarrassment, mention of virginity, french people, privilege

Word count: 6.4k

Masterlist

A few days later the newlyweds found themselves in Saint-Tropez for their honeymoon. “You’re on your honeymoon, not working. You should relax and enjoy your vacation,” Y/N told her husband, lounging on a beach chair. “They’ve got it,” she assured, sending glances to the armed guards that scattered the private villa. Despite her protests, both Viggo and John wanted her to be guarded on their honeymoon.

John smiled, “Respectfully, they’re here because I’m supposedly relaxing.”

“So you’re saying that if only you were looking out for me, it’d be the same as the ten of them currently guarding us?” she challenged.

He shrugged, not wanting to come off as too arrogant. “More or less, yeah.”

“Hmm,” she nodded, considering his words. “And what if I said I could handle myself and didn’t need you or anyone else to protect me?”

He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that. “No offense, but I watched you struggle with your carry on. You’re gonna need my protection.”

Fortunately she found his honesty funny. “Fair enough,” she chuckled. “Although, not totally my fault. My father refused to let me be trained. No strength training, no combat training, certainly no weapons training.”

John stared at her in bewilderment. “How does he expect you to run things one day if you can’t even shoot? Much less fight?”

That elicited a genuine laugh from her. “You think my father will let me run his empire? He always says ‘Fighting is not a woman’s place.’ He sure as hell won’t put me in charge. I mean, he’s happy to let me be the face of our family when he needs me to but it’s all going to go to my idiot of a brother. Iosef doesn’t know he’ll inherit it yet though. I think my father is using me to try to scare him into getting his shit together.”

“Still, you live in a dangerous world. You should know how to at least defend yourself.”

A smile crept onto her face as she sat up, swinging her legs off of the chair so now she could fully face the assassin. “So teach me,” she challenged. He sat up in return, a little surprised by her boldness. He had to admit, he had always thought of Viggo’s daughter as just a pretty face to do her father’s bidding. This determination to be independent was surprising. “Teach me how to fight. Or at the very least self-defense.”

“Okay,” John nodded. Finally, a vacation he could get behind. He stood up, taking her hand and leading her further onto the soft sand, away from the chairs. “Okay, first thing’s first. If you can run or hide, that’s always going to be your best bet. Chances are, anyone coming after you is going to be a lot bigger, stronger, and better trained.” She gave him an unimpressed look, having been lectured her entire life to run and hide. “Uh, but on to the real things: punches. So stance wide,” he acted as he spoke, showing her what he meant, “arms up. Make sure you don’t tuck your thumbs into your fist, that’s how you break your thumbs.” She nodded, copying his movements. “Now, you’re going to want to pivot on the ball of your back foot, angling your body towards your opponent as you throw the punch. That’ll give you some power.” She tried to follow his directions but it looked honestly pathetic. The fact that she was only wearing a bikini didn’t help that fact either. He couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle at her attempt. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He stepped around her, going behind her. “Get back into your original stance,” he directed. She complied as John stepped closer, his skin brushing against hers as he pressed his chest to her back, slotting their bodies together. He put his foot against her rear foot, his hands clasping her fists. “Okay,” he began, his lips pressed against her ear, eliciting a shiver down his spine. John held in his groan as her ass moved against his crotch, he just prayed he didn’t get hard as he stood so close to her. “Pick up the heel of your rear foot, standing on the ball of your foot.” She complied as John used his own foot to rotate hers, simultaneously moving her arm forward and forcing her body to rotate. Again she rubbed against him, making him realize he’d have to come up with a better way to teach her because he couldn’t be this distracted. “Uh that was good,” he said in a flustered voice, pulling away from her. “You think you got it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed in an equally flustered voice. She couldn’t deny that every time he touched her, it set her skin on fire. He held her hand to help her onto the plane and that was all she could think about for the seven hour flight.

They continued on for hours until the assassin finally agreed to a sparring match. “If you’re sure you wanna do this,” he agreed hesitantly, getting into a fighting position. “I’ll go easy on you though.”

Y/N laughed, getting into a fighting position too. “If you were anyone else I’d tell you not to but I’d like to at least get one punch in.”

He returned her laugh before throwing out a soft punch. She dodged it easily, returning the favor. Although, her punch was for real but she was so inexperienced her body language was obvious. John dodged it, not letting her get in a victory that easily. He threw another, slightly harder punch which she dodged once again, but she took the opportunity to send a kick to his knee. It actually landed, driving John’s knees to the ground but he was up in no time, launching himself at his wife. He pulled her to the ground, making sure to cushion her fall in the process, but she broke free, scrambling to her feet. She threw another punch but rather than dodge it, John grabbed her wrist and spun her around, pulling her body his. As soon as his crotch made contact with her ass—again—he immediately regretted it. She took him secondary shock to throw an elbow into his cheek, freeing herself. John was proud but he was ready to be done, he had some… stuff to take care of. So as she was setting herself up to send another kick at him, the highly trained assassin simply scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

“John!” she shrieked with laugher as he carried her into the water. He laughed as she began to beg for mercy, not wanting to be thrown in the still cool water. Once he waded in to his hips, he threw her off of his shoulder, dumping her into the water with a laugh. “John,” she cried again as soon she resurfaced. He was laughing so hard it gave her the opportunity to grab the neckline of his shirt, dragging his face into the water too. She laughed as he fell but as soon as he resurfaced, she realized her mistake.

John was on her quickly, scooping her up so her chest was pressed against his. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, making him forget the fact that he was planning on throwing her back into the water. Their eyes locked and suddenly there were no guards watching them and they hadn’t been forced into this marriage.

As Y/N stared into her husband’s deep brown eyes, all she wanted was to kiss him. For real. Not a quick peck or the one forced on them on their wedding day, she wanted this one to mean something. But as she was working up the courage to do it, there was a shout from the beach. “Hey!” one of the guards shouted. “There’s a call from your father!”

John groaned, also having hoped to kiss her in that moment. If he had just manned up a second earlier, he could be kissing his wife right now. And he’d have a better idea of where he stood in her life. The woman in question turned back to face her husband, letting out a soft groan too. She hesitantly unwrapped her legs from his hips, standing on her own and reluctantly pulling her arms from around his neck. But John had to suppress a groan of pleasure as her hands still trailed down his chest before falling to her sides.

As they waded to shore, John sent a slight glare to the man holding out the phone. He looked mildly startled but otherwise didn’t react as he handed his charge the phone. She answered in Russian, only saying a few words before hanging up. She handed the phone back to the guard before turning to face her husband. “You want to just order dinner?” she suggested, tired and not wanting to get ready to go out.

“Sure,” he agreed. “I’ll find a place while you get cleaned up.”

After a much needed shower, the newlyweds were sat in the villa’s breakfast nook, eating takeout from a genuine French restaurant. “So, is it true that my father saw you kill three men with a pencil and that’s why he recruited you?”

He shrugged, afraid to scare off his wife. “More or less,” he agreed, taking a sip of bourbon. Before he could say anything else, she was downing her water and grabbing the bottle of bourbon. “You drink bourbon?” he asked skeptically.

She shrugged as she poured. “Don’t know. My dad caught me stealing a bottle of vodka was I was sixteen. He said that if I even tasted a drop of alcohol before I was ‘ready’—who the fuck knows when that is?—then he’d beat the liquor out of me. But we’re in France, he’s not here, and I’m now a married woman,” she said, making a toast towards her husband before taking a sip. John laughed as she made a face of disgust at the first sip. “Ugh, how do you drink this?”

“It’s an acquired taste,” he chuckled. “Let’s start you with something easier.” He called in one of the guards, telling him to get a bottle of champagne from the wine cellar. “So no alcohol until now?”

She confirmed with a nod. “Surprising, I know. Considering that my father is Russian.”

“Well I can believe it based on the fact that he didn’t want you to learn how to fight,” he said as the champagne and two glasses were brought over. The assassin smoothly grabbed the bottle, opening it like it was nothing before pouring each of them a glass. He held up his glass like he was giving a toast. “To new experiences.”

She returned his toast, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. “This is way better,” she agreed, setting it next to her forgotten bourbon. She slid the shorter glass to the center of the table, leaving the option for John if he wanted it.

“So, what was it like to be raised by Viggo Tarasov?” John asked, trying to get to know his wife. Truthfully, he already knew a lot about her from both observing her at work and based on what the others said but he figured she’d be freaked out if he just started spouting facts off.

“Um actually I can’t really remember my father before the age of twelve. I was mostly raised by maids and tutors since my mom passed when I was young. But I spent my entire life in New York,” she shrugged. “Not much to tell when you’re homeschooled.” John nodded, he honestly had too much to tell but she wasn’t ready to hear about his past just yet. “But not much to complain about when your every want has been met. I hope you don’t think of me as some sort of brat,” she said shyly. She may not know a lot about John’s life but she could tell he’s been through more than his fair share.

“I don’t think you’re a brat,” he assured her. “Your brother however…?”

“Oh don’t even get me started on that idiot. He’s only my half-brother if you didn’t know.” John chuckled at her eagerness to separate herself from him.

About two hours later their plates had been cleared and the drinks were long gone. Y/N had managed to drink over half the bottle of champagne while John had drank nearly the entire bottle of bourbon. “So what are your tattoos?” Y/N finally asked. She had been itching for a clear look ever since she caught a glimpse of them on her wedding night.

“They’re uh… reminders,” John explained. “I can show them to you,” he offered, feeling emboldened by the liquor. His wife only nodded but that was all the confirmation he needed. He stood up, taking her hand before leading her upstairs to the master bedroom. When they had arrived, he insisted on her taking the master bedroom while he took one of the guest rooms.

Upon shutting the door, he took a deep breath before lifting his shirt over his head. He stood tensely, listening for a reaction. He only heard a soft exhale of breath as her footsteps came closer. Her fingers just barely ghosted the inked skin as she took in the top letters. “Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat,” she read. “Fortune favors the bold.” Her fingers then flitted up to the dog on his upper right shoulder. “Got in a little trouble when you were younger?” she guessed.

“A bit,” John chuckled. “How did you know what that meant?”

“I grew up around Russian mercenaries. You pick up on stuff,” she answered dismissively. “More trouble,” she said teasingly as her fingers found the fiery skull. Finally her fingers found the giant cross and praying hands. “Didn’t take you for a man of faith,” she mused.

John shrugged, turning to face his wife. She was taken slightly aback as she was greeted with her husband’s bare chest for the first time. He looked incredible, especially considering his age. “I don’t have faith in the traditional sense,” he answered, catching her attention. She looked up to see him staring at her intently. This was the moment, it was now or never.

She stood up on her toes, reaching John’s lips. He was taken slightly off guard but his arms were eagerly wrapped around her waist in a second. He bent more towards her, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He bit her lower lip softly, encouraging her to open her mouth. She did so, allowing his tongue to slip in gently, eliciting a soft moan from her. Suddenly he wasn’t thinking straight and he was pushing her towards the bed. She eagerly went along with it, tugging on his shirt to bring him down with her as she fell on her back onto her bed. His hands caught him so he didn’t crush her but he wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her up towards the center of the bed so their feet were no longer hanging off.

As they continued to make out, John’s hand slipped up under her top, finding that his wife wasn’t wearing a bra. His fingers immediately began teasing her nipples, causing her to let out soft moans.

When he pulled away to take her top off, she took the opportunity to speak up. “John, wait. You should know something,” she began. He looked concerned and halted his movement, resting his hand on her stomach and placing his weight on his other arm so he could look at her fully. “I wanna do this. I really do,” she assured. She couldn’t possibly convey how much she wanted her husband right then. “But you should know… I’m a virgin,” she admitted almost shamefully.

Shit, was all that ran through John’s mind. He should have put that together given her lack of life experience but he hadn’t been thinking critically in his mildly inebriated state. He pulled further away from his wife, much to her dismay. “We shouldn’t do this right now then.”

“What?” was all she managed to choke out. She was married to him. Who was she supposed to lose her virginity to if not for him?

“I want you, believe me,” he tried to assure her. She couldn’t possibly comprehend how much willpower this was taking. “But you’re drunk—for the first time too,” he added. “You shouldn’t be losing your virginity drunk. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

She didn’t even argue with him, too embarrassed to say anything. She just pulled her legs into her chest, clearly uncomfortable and feeling vulnerable. He felt bad, but he’d feel worse if she ever had any regrets about their first time together. So he just took his leave, frustrated with himself too.

~

At breakfast John tried to catch his wife’s eye but she refused to even look at him. Every time he spoke she’d either let out a noncommittal hum or outright ignore him. She only stayed in the kitchen long enough to eat her food before retreating upstairs to her room.

John had to admit he was hurt by her reclusion. He had done the right thing last night so why did he feel bad? The only reason he didn’t try to force her to get over last night was because he knew her behavior was a result of shame, not anger. She wasn’t lashing out at him because she didn’t get what she wanted, she was embarrassed. So he decided to give her space to cool off before giving her a fun night out.

Right before dinner time he finally knocked on the master bedroom’s door. After a moment it finally opened, revealing Y/N. She hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas today but as she answered, he could tell she was trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Get dressed,” he told her. “We have dinner reservations.”

“Oh John thank you, but I don’t-”

“No,” he cut her off. “I need to make up for last night. So we’re gonna have a fun night and get over this little rough patch,” he said in a light tone, trying not to come across like he was ordering her around.

“You don’t have to make up for anything,” she assured. “You did the right thing. It’s just a little embarrassing to be rejected by your own husband,” she let out an awkward laugh. “I’ll uh meet you downstairs in 15,” she said before shutting the door.

Before she stepped away to go get changed, she listened for John’s footsteps. Once she was sure he was gone she went to her suitcase, looking for something suitable to wear. She found a white sundress with blue floral patterns that reached mid-thigh. Putting it on, she paired it with sandals and natural makeup. Just before exiting the room she spotted her engagement and wedding rings. John had been wearing his wedding band the entire time they were married but she hadn’t worn hers since the wedding. She didn’t have anything against John or the marriage (really only against her father for forcing so many things on her) but she mostly just didn’t like wearing such a massive diamond. When she had brought up concerns that the ring could break, John just said he’d get her a new one like it was no big deal. So, seeing as it seemed like he wanted her to wear it, she put the rings on before heading downstairs. There, she found John sitting in the foyer wearing a suit.

When he saw her, he stood up, giving a genuine smile. The rings on her finger didn’t escape his notice, giving him hope she wouldn’t try to leave him. He reached out to take her hand but hesitated, remembering that her wounds were still fresh from their encounter last night.

She returned his smile, albeit a bit forced. The movement of his hand didn’t escape her notice either but she ignored it, walking past him towards the door. She opened it, walking out but still held the door open for him.

The pair strolled down the street, tension between them. All was forgiven on both parts but it was still incredibly awkward. To pass the time, Y/N looked around, spotting her guards popping up every once in a while. John was doing the same but rather than looking for guards, he was looking for threats that slipped through their security detail. Technically he wasn’t working. He was supposed to be relaxing on his honeymoon. But he had assumed the role of commander of the detail following him around. He knew about everything that was happening. Every single person that walked by their temporary home and every boat that passed by their private beach. John already found himself incredibly concerned for his wife’s safety. Sure, when he was tasked with watching her in the past he took his job seriously, but now she was more than a job.

“This is it,” John ended the silence as they reached a very busy restaurant. The heiress had honestly mistaken it for a club at first because of the line of people waiting to get in. “C’mon, we have reservations,” he said, answering her unasked question. He extended his hand, more confidently this time, which she took, following him up to the hostess’ stand.

“Hi, do you have a reservation?” she greeted.

“Yes, two for Wick.”

“Okay, I have you right here. Follow me, Mr. and Mrs. Wick,” she smiled. She led them through the crowded restaurant to a secluded table on the balcony, right over the water. “Enjoy,” she bid them as they sat.

“Mrs. Wick, haven’t heard that one yet,” Y/N said once the hostess left. It was a little unnerving hearing it for the first time.

John kept his cool facade but internally was freaking out. Did she not like his last name? Did she not want to be attached to him? Or did she just prefer to keep her own name? That’d be fine with him but they were already in such a delicate position right now and he didn’t want to make her anymore uncomfortable. Fortunately he didn’t have to say anything because the waiter came up to them.

“Bonjour, how are we this evening?” he asked the pair. The waiter honestly looked more like he was from California than France. He had tan skin and sunny blonde hair with beachy waves. As if he had spent every day of his life surfing.

“We’re good,” John answered, not missing the way the waiter’s gaze lingered on his wife’s chest. “We’ll take a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.”

The waiter gave a strained smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll be right back.”

John turned to look back at his wife but she was staring down into the ocean, holding herself tightly. He could see the goosebumps starting to form on her arms from the breeze. “Cold?” he asked.

That seemed to snap her out of whatever daze she was in. “Hm? Oh no I'm fine,” she assured even though she was rubbing her arms. John wordlessly stood up, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around his wife. “Thanks,” she smiled sheepishly, pulling the jacket closer as John retook his seat.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you freezing to death,” he joked. But honestly, he’d do anything to get more clothes on her and keep her out of that waiter’s gaze. Speaking of…

“Your Cabernet,” the waiter introduced as he set down the wine glasses. As he poured he finally took the chance to introduce himself. “My name is Theo and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you with any appetizers?” he asked, the entire time ignoring John’s presence.

“We’ll just start with Cervelle de Canut,” John answered, forcing the waiter’s attention to him.

Theo gave another forced smile. “Of course,” he agreed, leaving the couple again.

They returned to their slightly awkward silence, Y/N now unconsciously fiddling with her ring on top of the table. “Does it need to be resized?” John asked.

“Oh, no,” she answered, pulling her hands back to her lap. “Just not used to wearing such a big ring. I’m entirely convinced I'm going to lose it,” she said, staring at the 10 carat diamond. “And if that happens my father will murder me.”

“Why? He didn’t buy it.”

Her jaw dropped open at that admission. “John I-” she didn’t know what to say. “You shouldn’t have. This is way too expensive.”

He just waved his hand dismissively, amused by her reaction. “I may not be as rich as your father but that doesn’t mean I can’t afford nice things.”

“I know that. I just… you don’t seem like the type to spend so much on material things. Especially a ring for a girl you barely know.”

“I wanted to,” he assured. “Remember, I already knew a lot about you from when I worked with you.”

“You mean when you were creeping in the shadows watching me?” she teased.

“You make me sound like a creep when you phrase it like that!” That got a genuine laugh from her. John couldn’t help but smile in response. He liked her laugh.

Their night continued smoothly for the most part. The pair was really clicking except for whenever that waiter came over. But John just tried to ignore him. As they were eating dessert, John got a call. He groaned, reluctant to let his date be cut short. But a glance at the caller id told him he had to get it. “Sorry,” he said to his wife as he answered the phone. “This is Wick,” he answered.

“John, we’ve got a minor situation,” Kirill’s voice came over the phone. “This guy tried to break into the house. He won’t say anything but I don’t think he’s associated with anyone dangerous.”

John sighed. “Give me a second,” he called into the phone. Pulling it away from his mouth, he looked at his wife. “This’ll just take a minute,” he assured her, getting up.

She nodded as he walked away, searching for some sense of privacy. Meanwhile, Theo had been watching the pair, waiting for the wife to be alone for a second. As John walked past him, he made a beeline for the secluded table. “Can I help you with anything else, madame?”

“Oh, no I'm alright. Just the cheque please.” But rather than go get the check or simply place it on the table, Theo sat in John’s seat. “Uh…”

“Are you okay?” he asked seriously. “You didn’t exactly look happy when you came in and I couldn’t help but notice that your husband is so much older.”

“Oh, well thank you for your concern but we’re perfectly fine,” she replied, maybe a bit more forceful than necessary.

“Are you sure? Because if you’re in trouble we can help you. There’s an American embassy right down the street.”

“I’m fine, seriously,” she assured. “My husband makes me very happy.”

Theo sat back, seemingly satisfied his customer wasn’t being trafficked but he still had one goal he wanted to accomplish. “I find it hard to believe an old man like him could satisfy such a pretty thing like you,” he flirted smugly. His tone went from genuine concern to arrogant flirting, like he was casually picking up a girl in a bar.

“Uh…” she had no idea what to say in this situation.

“C’mon, you can’t honestly be telling me that you’d rather fuck grandpa over me?”

As Y/N was looking around for help, she finally spotted John approaching and based on the murderous look on his face, he had heard what the waiter said.

“What’d you just call me?” he shouted, catching everyone’s attention and silencing the balcony.

Apparently Theo was stupid because he stood up to face the assassin. “You heard me old man. Although I’m surprised you can hear at all.”

John looked like he wanted to punch the boy but he restrained himself. Instead, he just walked around Theo to where his wife already stood, waiting for him. She took his hand, still wearing his jacket as they headed to the exit.

John angrily stormed out into the street but was stopped by a shout behind them. “Mr. Wick!” a slightly disheveled looking man called.

John looked back at the man who had stopped in the doorway. He turned back to his wife. “Go with Damien,” he nodded over to one of the guards standing on the curb nonchalantly. Sensing that this was about more than just a rude server, she complied, going to stand next to one of the many mercenaries that worked for her father. John walked back over to the owner, another member of the Russian mob who was all too familiar with the reputation of John Wick.

“I’m very sorry for what happened,” he apologized, shaking John’s hand. In it was a gold coin as gratitude for not causing a bigger scene. “I assure you that the boy will be dealt with properly. He didn’t know better.”

John didn’t say anything, just nodded and tucked the gold coin into his pocket as he went back to his wife. She took his hand once again as they headed back towards the villa. “Are you okay?” he asked as he stormed down the sidewalk.

“Yeah, are you?” she asked, concern lacing her voice. She spent her entire life around violent men but had never seen someone get this angry over something so small.

“I’m fine,” he insisted as they reached the house. He continued pulling her behind him, even once they got inside. But once they got inside the foyer, Y/N stopped walking.

“John what is the matter with you?” she asked. “Yeah he was being a dick but he was harmless.”

John took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to admit out loud that he reacted so harshly because he was jealous. Because he is John Wick, The Boogeyman, Baba Yaga, and no one should ever even look twice at what’s his. So instead of admitting his feelings with words, he decided to show her. He marched right over to his wife, grasping her face and pressing a burning kiss to her lips. She immediately melted into his arms, now understanding what was going on.

His hands moved south, under her ass to her upper thighs. He tapped the back of her thighs, urging her to jump. She did, wrapping her legs around his waist so he could carry her upstairs. Upon reaching the master bedroom, their lips only parted so she could remove John’s shirt and tie. As she laid, sprawled out on the bed, looking slightly disheveled, the assassin took the moment to admire her. Her lip gloss was almost all gone, her hair messy, and the neckline of her dress had been pulled way down. He leaned down on the bed to kiss her again, this time much more gentle. As he kissed her sweetly, his hand crept up under her dress until he found her most intimate parts. Through her lace panties, John rubbed his fingers against her core until he found her clit, eliciting a moan from her lips. John only pulled away from her lips enough to say, “You like that, huh?” To which she only let out pathetic whimpers.

After toying with her for a few minutes, his hand moved up to the waistband of her panties, ripping them off her body. But once they were off, John couldn’t wait anymore, he just wanted his wife to feel good. So without warning, he fell to his knees in front of her, throwing her legs over his shoulders and lifting her skirt so he could reach her core. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “And so wet for me.” His face then moved closer to her core, kissing up her thighs as he went. She could already feel the coil in her stomach tightening in anticipation. John started with small licks to her clit and she nearly whined but she suppressed the noises. But when his tongue delved inside of her, she couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up, grasping her husband’s long hair. He let out a soft groan of pleasure as she grasped his hair, beginning to grind herself against his face, anxious for her own undoing. But when he returned his tongue to her clit and brought two fingers inside of her, pumping and curling them, the coil snapped and she came on his face.

“John,” she moaned, desperate.

“Yes?” he asked with a satisfied smirk on his face. She was still breathing heavily from her first orgasm, unable to answer. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked with a knowing smirk. She only nodded desperately. His smirk widened into a smile as he stood up, looming over his wife. She crawled further up the bed, bringing her body from the edge as she laid her head against the pillows. John stood, removing his trousers. His cock immediately springing up, already hard. He pulled a condom out of his pants pocked, putting it on before he then kneeled in between her legs on the bed, her pussy still dripping. He leaned over her body, kissing her, one of his hands finding her still clothed breast, rubbing circles around it, occasionally brushing over it. “Take it off,” he said in a gruff voice, going back to kissing her once he finished speaking. She didn’t have to be told twice, hands reaching down to pull the dress up. John helped her get it over her head, leaving her body bare to him for the first time. Sure, they had been close to each other before, but bare, they their bodies truly fit together like puzzle pieces.

She moaned, letting his mouth muffle the noise. John then moved from her lips, kissing down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, straight down her stomach, before kissing her clit again. He then moved back up, kissing her again so she could taste herself. “Are you ready,” he whispered, lips ghosting over hers. She nodded emphatically, brushing their noses together accidentally. “I need you to say it,” he insisted. He needed a full green light from her before he took her virginity.

“Yes John,” she breathed. “Fuck me, make me yours.” With another kiss John thrust himself inside of her, slow and gentle. He had to restrain himself from jackhammering her into the bed and abusing her pussy. She let out a moan too loud at the intrusion, her husband’s hand quickly clamping over her mouth to silence her. “Wouldn’t want the guards to know what I’m doing to you,” he grunted into her ear.

She just moaned softer, her fingers finding his back. One arm grasped where his neck connected to his shoulder, holding on for dear life. While the other arm was clutching his lower back, careful to avoid his tattoos, nails digging into the skin as she urged him to go faster. Fortunately, he got the message because he began to pick up the pace, soft groans filling her ears. Eventually he pulled away from her, going up on his knees, bringing her hips with him. She nearly screamed as he hit a new spot inside of her but his look kept her quiet. But when the coil snapped again and she came all over his cock, she bit her lip to keep her screams at bay. John continued fucking into her until his hips began to stutter and he came.

Once he finished, he pulled out of her, making her whine at the loss of his fullness. A smile crept on his face as he mode to lay on his side, his head propped on his arm. Meanwhile, she turned onto her side to face him. “God, that was… you were incredible.”

John chuckled, his free hand brushing the hair out of her face and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before his hand slid down to rest on her hip. “Not bad for an older guy?” he joked, now able to look back and laugh about the night’s earlier incident.

“You’re not old,” she insisted. “Sorry about your back,” she apologized, remembering how she had dug her nails in.

“Trust me, I’ve been through worse,” he assured, pressing another kiss to her forehead. He couldn’t get enough of her. “C’mon,” he said, getting up, “let’s get you cleaned up.” He led her to the ensuite bathroom, immediately pushing her to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He then wasted no time turning the shower on, letting it warm up quickly. As the water warmed up, John grabbed a washcloth, wetting it before bringing it over. He kneeled in front of his wife once again, gently nudging her legs apart so he could clean all the slick from between her thighs. She shivered as the cool cloth touched her hot skin, and she grasped his shoulder for stability.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Of course,” he returned with a soft smile. That night they just held each other, soaking in one another’s warmth.

Masterlist

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 23

Ch. 23 | Ao3

Thank you, as always, to the best friends and betas ever, @popjunkie42 and @witch-and-her-witcher

NSFW today :)

Early the next morning, Feyre woke to the gentle brushing of Rhys’s knuckles against her cheek. She had been dreaming of early mornings in her old manor, waking up to the sharp but comforting smells of new spices. It always meant her father had returned from a trip, bringing new things for the kitchen staff, who were always enthusiastic about getting started. 

“Darling, wake up.” 

“What? What’s happened?” Her heart was in her throat as consciousness surged inside her, whipping her back into existence, the memories of the previous night raining back down over her. She could still smell the spices in her nose, as though the dream hadn’t entirely faded away. But she was torn fully into the present, panic guiding her back.

“Nothing, Feyre. It’s okay, shhh.” His hands firmly pressed her back into the mattress, grounding her and settling her until she could breathe again. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He turned his face into her hair, laying back down beside her and pulling her body close. She relaxed as much as her mind would allow. 

“What time is it?”

“Before dawn. I wanted to wake you and see if you wished to go to Calla’s cell. It may be the only chance we have to do it.” She nodded, pressing her eyes tightly closed, the tears already  burning there again. He was right. If she wanted to see it, collect any of what Calla had left in the world, it had to be now. 

She nodded grimly, gripping harder to Rhys’s arm where it wrapped across her chest. He was dressed, as though he’d already been awake and out. 

“I love you, Feyre. I will be with you every step of the way.” 

“I love you, too.” The words flowed freely between them now, settling warmly as they always did around her heart and fluttering across her ribcage. It had changed nothing, despite her bargain with Vilja, the inky stars still pressed into her shoulder. 

It didn’t stop her from wanting to hear it as often as she could. 

She rose from the bed, feet hitting the cold stone floor as she went to the wardrobe to find clothes. She paused as she passed the table, her bloodied, leather wristband still lying on it. The blade had been drawn back in, but the blood would stain, just like the guilt on Feyre’s soul. 

“I can get rid of it, if you’d like. I just didn’t want to assume since it was a gift.” He was behind her, arms wrapping around her middle as he rested his chin on her shoulder. She eased back into him, letting some of the unsteadiness in her be settled by his body holding hers.

She closed her eyes, breathing through the cataclysmic ache in her chest. “No, don’t throw it out. I just–I don’t know yet.” He pressed a kiss to her temple then went to wash up, leaving her to turn away from the table and find her clothes. This would be her new reality, and she had to find a way to cope with it. She would start by making amends, salvaging anything that she could find in Calla’s cell and give her the send off that she deserved once they left this place. 

If they left.

When Rhys winnowed to the dungeons, it was pitch black, the candles no longer lit in Calla’s absence. They’d landed in Calla’s cell instead of Feyre’s this time, the door on it still open. Feyre tossed a small flame into the single candle near the top of the wrought iron doors, the light hitting the room around them and casting it in low light and deep shadows. The walls of dirt and stone were jagged with crags, throwing shapes that deepened the darkness. The pallet was just as rucked as it had been the last time she’d been down here. It was like Calla was still alive, as though she hadn’t left only to never return. Feyre could almost pretend that Calla was just doing chores somewhere down the hall. 

Feyre felt Rhys’s shock before she registered what she was looking at, the wall in front of her swimming in and out of clarity as her eyes focused. As her vision adjusted, she recoiled, stumbling back a step and taking in the wall with the hole that she and Calla had spoken through. It was covered in scrapes–in markings. From ceiling to floor, no part of the stone had been left untouched. She couldn’t see it before when they spoke, the other walls free from any changes, but this wall…there were tally marks to count the days, framed by strange markings and pictures. Spirals reached from top to bottom, raining down and trapping figures below, crushing them beneath the heavy gashes in the stone. 

There were stars at the top, framed by what appeared to be the tops of trees, as though one was looking up at the night sky from the forest floor. Feyre traced her fingers over a crude image of the Spring manor burning, flying creatures like the attor flying around it in the air. Farther left there were creatures with pointed ears crouching over the bodies of what looked like humans, their stomachs ripped open. The fae were covered in blood and holding what looked like human hearts.

Feyre stepped closer to the wall, taking it all in as she ran her fingers over the carvings. If these tally marks were correct, she’d at least been doing them since the day they’d arrived. She took tentative steps along the walls as she brushed her hands across the shallow cuts in the stone, her chest twisting with the realization of how long this might have been going on. 

Gods, when did she even have the time to do this?

She didn’t look like she’d been sleeping.

He was right–she hadn’t. Had she slept at all since they’d come here? Had she–

She paused when she heard a crunch beneath her feet. Stepping back, her shoe lifting from the floor ahead of her, she bent to examine the ground. The light wasn’t enough to work out what she’d been looking at, so she called the flame into her hands, holding it down low. There were sharp rocks, scattered as though tossed down haphazardly for use. They were covered in what looked like rust– perhaps Calla had dug them from the dripping wall. 

She moved farther towards the back of the chamber, wrapping back around until she neared the pallet where Calla had slept. It was messed up still, the straw rumpled on top of the small platform as though they’d torn her from the bed when they came to get her. Feyre leaned down to pull some of the straw that had fallen back to the top. As she did, something caught her eye. There, on the side of the platform not visible from the doors of the cell, the straw had been pushed up as though to hide something. No one would have seen it when they came to get her, but Feyre had noticed it coming from the other side. 

There’s something here.

She felt Rhys’s hand on her shoulder. 

What is it? 

She brushed the remaining straw back to display a massive hole in the wall, only a body’s width across, but it stretched the entirety of the way behind her bed. Just enough room for a person and nothing else. There were gouges, both deep and shallow, covered in that same strange rust as the rocks at the bottom of the carvings. The heavily packed dirt of the mountain side had been chipped away by hand…or by stone. 

A vision of Calla’s bloodied, dirtied hands flashed across her mind, and she understood.

As Feyre’s comprehension caught up to her, her breath caught in her throat. The rocks hadn’t been covered in rust. They’d been covered in blood. Calla had injured herself digging into the wall, recording the last of her thoughts in this world and frantically making what appeared to be the beginnings of a hopeless tunnel. Or a place to hide. She had slowly and methodically cracked that massive rock open, painstakingly pulling the jagged edges out one by one, and used them to start digging.

Rhys backed up. 

It’s not very deep.

Deep enough to hide. 

She held her fire up to the wall; it only went about seven inches in. But Calla was thin. With the hay there, she could have hidden, could have bought herself time, maybe. Had that been her goal? Or had she simply lost touch with reality entirely?

Feyre had stood in the other cell and spoken to her, had looked her in the eyes and thought that they would make it out of here. All the while, Calla had been over on her side carving and losing her mind. She may as well have been a world away. All those times that they’d been down here to look for her and found her cell empty…had she been gone, or had she been here, hiding in the walls? Feyre shuddered as she remembered the few times she’d had to wait to see Calla pop into view. Had she been steadily carving, hiding from Feyre just out of sight? Feyre felt sick. She had had no idea what she’d been going through, what she’d been doing– she’d known it was bad, but she hadn’t seen how bad. 

She hadn’t wanted to see. 

Feyre hadn’t been enough. She was only human, too. Call had needed more, a whole unit of support behind her. And she hadn’t gotten it.

The sob broke through her right as Rhys felt it coming and held his hand over her mouth to quiet the strangled wail emerging from her. She’d thought that she had cried all the tears she had the night before, but looking at these walls, at this desperate attempt at an escape–the actions of a frantic animal as it threw its last efforts out to save its own life. Calla’s last thoughts in this world existed now only on these walls, and Feyre felt like her soul was twisting its way out of her body. 

Rhys held her, his arms banding around her and his fingers firmly across her mouth as her chest heaved. He seemed to understand, and let go just as she turned and vomited into the straw on the floor. Her body retched, refusing to hold the horror of everything she’d discovered, everything she’d seen and endured here. 

The guilt and the trauma and the desperation all culminated here, in Calla’s last days and death. How long had she been falling apart? What had finally broken her? Or had she been broken long before they came here? Long before she’d even come to Spring?

They had brought her here. They had sacrificed her.

Rhys patiently cradled her as she cried, the well of tears withering once again as shame and regret took their place. It would be a long road to recovery, if a recovery over something like this was even possible. 

Would it make you feel better to know that you held out much longer than I would have in your shoes?

She sniffed in his arms. What do you mean?

I mean that you are a much better person than I am, and with a much better heart. 

Feyre scoffed, rubbing her sleeve along her nose. 

I watched you in there with her. You did everything you could to stop this. You begged her. You easily could have killed her at any time, and still you let her bring you to the edge of death before you acted, Feyre. 

She had. She had given everything, waited as long as she could. She’d almost died waiting. It hadn’t changed the outcome. 

You will carry this forever, love. But you will also find ways to cope. And if it helps to hear it, I would have done the same for you. 

It did help to hear it. The guilt would weigh her down, perhaps forever, but she knew the truth beneath it all. It hadn’t just been her life on the line as she and Calla fought. She had to push forward, had to remember what she was still here fighting for. 

If they succeeded here, she would have millennia to make herself suffer for what she’d sacrificed. But if she wanted that time, she needed to earn it– to focus on what she’d come here to do. She was the only thing left standing in Amarantha’s way, and she would not break. She would let the bright light in the promise of their future together help her keep it together, keep her strong. 

Calla had no personal effects, no items that were worth taking with them. Feyre wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse. She took one of the stained rocks in hand and found an empty portion of the wall. On it, she carved simply the name Calla . She didn’t want to say any words, didn’t want to drag this out. There would be time to grieve and time to mourn if she succeeded. Instead, she bowed her head, placing her hand on the name on the wall, covering all that was left of her once-friend except memories. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She allowed a final tear to fall, then let Rhys take her hand as they left the cells behind. 

+++ 

As Feyre and Rhys landed back in their room, they froze in time with each other. An envelope had been shoved under their door in their absence, and the terror Feyre felt was echoed in Rhys’s tightening grip on her hand. He tensed beside her as they stepped forward to greet whatever was waiting for them inside it. 

Feyre noticed first that the envelope was different–not the thick folded parchment with scarlet wax and lettering of Amarantha. This letter had been sent in an envelope, and off-white, almost yellow coloring to it. It seemed to glow in the dour darkness of the entryway, and the only identifying item on it was a simple wax seal with the shape of a sun pressed into it. 

“It’s from Helion.” Rhys’s tone was still tense, but more suspicious than worried. Helion was the High Lord that watched Feyre as she moved through court, those amber eyes tracking her movements from the first night she’d come here. The one who was familiar, and yet a stranger. 

Rhys cracked the seal and began to read. “He requests a meeting with me, and says it’s urgent.” 

“Do you think this is a trap?” Feyre wondered if that knee jerk instinct would ever leave now, or if she would be destined for a life of looking over her shoulder at every step. 

“Stay here.” He crossed back to her in two steps, pressing a kiss into her temple. “I’ll be back soon.” She nodded, leaning it and savoring it, then leaning back again to let him go. She could find things to do here, could work some of the tension out of her body while he was away by moving. She continued to ignore the band on the table, tossing a shirt over it so that she didn’t have to see it anymore. 

Feyre had hardly begun picking up around the room when she heard the whooshing of Rhys returning. 

“Well, that certainly didn’t take–” Her voice cut off as she turned, the male on the other side of the room not Rhys at all. “How did you get in here?” 

Feyre was aware of the wards and enchantments Rhys had woven around this room. He’d gone over them with her to reassure her that no one could get in except for the two of them. They were made with their blood, keyed to only them. And yet, here stood Helion, his dark skin and bright eyes glowing in the shadows by the door. 

“I have my ways, Feyre Archeron.” She should have been terrified, alarms firing and telling her to run or call for help. But something about Helion calmed her, an ease to his words and posture that made him think that he was not a threat. That made him seem more of a comfort here under the mountain than a danger.

“You sent him away so you could come here.” It wasn’t a question, and yet, he raised his brows. 

“One might think that a prisoner would relish a break. And yet, you don’t seem happy.” He circled the outskirts of the room, picking up a cup on the table, sniffing it and putting it back down. Eventually, he pulled the chair out and sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and surveying Feyre in that way of his that made her want to draw back, to hide. She felt as though he could see every bit of her, even the bits she fought to keep hidden. Something in his gaze told her that there were no secrets in Helion’s eyes. 

They held each other’s gaze, and she itched to fill the silence, to lie. She could tell him any number of things, but he’d heard her speak so casually when she’d thought he was Rhys. She had a feeling he wouldn’t have believed her even if she’d lied. 

“What do you want from me?” 

The smile on his face was charming and broad, spreading slowly as white teeth flanked by the sharp canines went on display. It seemed a genuine show of mirth, as though there truly were no ill intent behind it. It was a smile that she distantly felt she should know, the appearance of it like finding an old friend in a crowd.

“I heard you like bargains, Feyre.” She was instantly on edge. The calm of his presence might all be some cruel trick, a gift of a High Lord like the powers of Rhys’s mind. She wasn’t privy to all the secrets– there could easily be magic he possessed that she knew nothing about.

“What could I possibly give you that you do not possess? I am already fighting for your freedom– ” 

“I would like to offer you a chance to run.”

Feyre pulled up short. “What?”

“I have it on good authority that a window of opportunity for you to escape will open for a short period of time tonight. I want you to take it.” Her heart was in her throat. 

A way out. 

Her tongue dried in her mouth, the feeling causing her to clear her throat. But what was his catch? What were his terms? She’d been in Prythian long enough to know that everything came with a hefty price, and that sometimes bargains were tricky things. “What could you possibly gain from me leaving here?”

“There is someone I would like you to take with you.” 

“While I appreciate your vote of confidence in me, I can’t leave, High Lord, I–”

“Helion. Please call me Helion.” 

“Helion, fine. I can’t accept.” 

“Is it because of Rhysand? Take him, too. There is room for you all to flee.” The words swam in her mind. They could run. 

“You know?”

He smiled again, that grin stretching wide. “I can see through glamours, dear. I’ve known since you arrived. Plus, Rhysand is a friend.”

A friend. 

If they could run, if they could leave…But then Tamlin and Lucien and everyone else would remain. Her bargain would go unfulfilled. 

“The bargain.”

“I can break it.” Her jaw dropped. 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. How do you think I broke your lover’s wards to get in here?” She remembered. She’d practiced with that very magic over and over in Spring, winding and unwinding wards. She just hadn’t imagined how far his powers might extend.

“She’ll track us forever. We’ll never know peace.”

“There is a place he could take you, a legend of old. An island that people believe to be myth where you might never be found.” 

And Rhys would never see his family again. His home. That vision of yearning, of Velaris, his family, flashed before her eyes. All of that would be gone to him forever. And the people beneath the mountain, both those she knew and those she didn’t, would never have the chance for peace or home again. 

She couldn’t even consider it. The moment she let the doubt creep in, admitted to herself that it was more likely than not she wouldn’t be leaving here, she knew it was going to consume her wholly. She had to hold on to the hope, needed to keep the dream alive. She demanded that beautiful possibility of a future in her mind, and it would keep her going. There could be no room for uncertainty.

“I appreciate your offer. More than you could possibly know. But I cannot go.” Helion seemed surprised, not bothering to hide his shock. 

“Why would you stay?” 

There was the briefest flash in her mind at the satisfaction she would feel at ripping Amarantha’s eyes out with her bare hands for the atrocities she’d committed. She chose to voice the more noble reasons, instead. 

“I made a promise that I would try. I took on the bargain for more reasons than one. If I leave now, you will all be bound here forever. I would be an oath breaker, and all of you would be the ones to pay that price.” The softening around Helion’s eyes was evident, the words striking some chord within him. “I won’t leave Lucien or Tamlin or anyone else here to deal with this. Not after I promised.”

“You care deeply for those you love.”

“They are my family.” 

He closed his eyes and turned his head, as though he were living momentarily in another place, remembering another time. When he turned back to her, his expression had changed. 

“I have seen everything you’ve done under this mountain, Feyre. I will never forget any of it. No one will.”

She nodded, and he rose to go, the glow illuminating his skin in the shadows. 

“I cannot thank you enough for your offer. I am sorry I could not take it.” He paused, but then turned to take her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles. His lips were soft and warm, and he smiled wickedly again. It did not meet his eyes. 

“Who were you trying to save?” 

But the second she asked, the air was whirring around them, filling with a swirling and potent darkness as Rhys winnowed back into the room with a clap of thunder so loud Feyre almost covered her ears on instinct. 

He appeared, the very image of night incarnate in front of her, back tense and eyes filled with rage as the shadows banked around him in fury. This was the High Lord of Night, the King of Nightmares that the books detailed. 

“Helion?” His shoulders relaxed a bit as he took in what was happening. Helion hadn’t even flinched at the display, just continued to smile. 

“Hello, Rhysand.” 

“You sent me the letter to get me out.” Helion smiled as Rhys echoed the same deadpan statement as Feyre had only moments before. He sent Rhys a quick, nearly mocking, bow. 

“Protect her at all costs, my friend.” And with a whirl of light, he was gone. 

Rhys was still breathing heavily, despite clearly not being all too concerned Helion had broken into his private rooms. He crossed the room silently and quickly, pulling Feyre tightly to his chest. “When I got there and he was gone, I worried it had been a trap. I worried–” He couldn’t finish the sentence, and Feyre fisted her hands in his shirt. She understood. 

Everything seemed so fragile and precious, as though they were dangling right off the edge of a precipice, and only the slightest movement could tip them right over the edge. 

“I’m here.” 

“What did he want?” Rhys didn’t draw back from her as he asked.

“To offer us an escape, provided we smuggle someone out with us for him.”

Rhys hummed. “And you said no, because you made a promise to save everyone at great personal cost. Am I close?”

“Hush.” The topic was miserable, but it was hard to not feel her heart seize at how effortlessly he knew her. The vulnerability of being known so thoroughly by him would never cease to fill that space in her chest with burning, aching love.

They held each other for a few moments, their bodies naturally beginning to sway with the need for comfort. 

“You must remember, I am an excellent dancer.” She smiled up at him as she said it. 

He pulled back, looking down at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes. “Feyre, Feyre. Cracking jokes at a time like this?” She pretended to be offended, slapping at his chest, but he grabbed her wrist gently, plucking it from the air and pressing the lightest kiss to her palm. He entwined their fingers and held both their hands between them.

“When we return home, you can buy me fancy dancing lessons with your High Lord riches. Then I won’t have to step on your toes all night.” He kissed each of her cheeks, eyes searching her face as though looking for some sort of answer or plan or strategy he might have missed there before. 

“When we return home, Feyre. I will make you High Lady, and you can use our riches on whatever your heart desires.” His fingers strayed to the ring on her finger, out of sight with her glamours covering it. She dropped the magic from her hand, the ring on her finger shining and catching the light. He twisted it so the stars faced upwards, the brilliant shine of it somehow even more magnificent. 

And when he leaned in to kiss her again, their lips meeting softly, he paused between each touch. 

“Feyre. My friend through many dangers. My lover who healed my broken and weary soul. My wife. My eternity.” 

She sighed with the admission, letting the words wash over her. Husband and wife felt like such small terms for what she felt they had, not coming close to the depth of emotions and love she held for him or him for her. If they were to make it out of here, return to Velaris, and marry, would it feel like it came closer to touching that deep well of passion and intimacy, that vulnerability and possession she felt? 

He was hers. And she was his. She had never felt so possessive, so territorial, about anything in her life. Perhaps the titles did not matter so much. 

“You’re mine, Rhysand. Forever.” 

“And you’re sure that you want me? My titles, my past, and everything that comes with it?” The vulnerability shone within his eyes. She knew how he felt– knew that he was certain being with him would put a target on her back forever. “My actions here have damned me. They see me as a monster, and they’ll see it even more now with how I’ve had to treat you.” 

“They watched me put a knife through my friend’s throat.” 

“And they’ve watched me do worse for five decades.” 

She placed two fingers on his lips, quieting him and his worry. She could hear the words floating in his mind, the self deprecation. 

Emotionless. Barbaric. Cruel. Selfish.

“Rhys, I love you. It doesn’t matter to me what anyone thinks of you. I know your heart.” His breathing was deep, the catch of it telling her of the emotion he was holding in. “I would endure it all for you. If you go on holding that mask up for them to see, then I will be whatever and whoever you need me to be. So long as you never wear that mask with me, none of it matters.”

“I would never.” 

“I know. And if we never leave Velaris again after we finish this, then so be it.” 

His arms tightened around her, the tension in his shoulders melting a bit with her admissions, her love. 

“I love you, Feyre Archeron.” She wasn’t checking her ears or her tattoo anymore, the warmth of his words the balm to her soul that she desperately needed, craved with both mind and body like nothing she’d ever felt before. They wrapped her heart in gold and let it shine like the summer sun on her skin, lighting her up from within. 

She was still human, and maybe even if she won the trials, that would remain the case. But Rhys was hers in every way for as long as they might have. Whether it was days from now, or years, or millenia, her soul was his. It had been his since the moment their eyes had met across that room. 

For now, there was no mountain, no Amarantha, no mortality. There was just them, and it was more than enough. 

+++

Court felt more tense than normal as they walked in that night. Feyre and Rhysand had decided that the best possible course of action was to pretend he’d taken Amarantha’s words to heart. The glamour he’d cast over her was horrifying to the naked eye, her arms covered in gruesome bruises in various states of healing. As he’d added to it, she’d kept insisting on more, the visual they presented tonight able to make or break this last ditch effort to make it to the finish line. If Amarantha believed that Feyre was starting to crack as Calla had, she had no reason to interfere before whatever horrible task she was planning came to light. 

Sporting a black eye, split brow, and an unhealed cut at the edge of her hairline, Feyre put on her best show of limping behind Rhysand into the court, the whorls of dark paint strategically placed to display the bruised flesh of her body. There were no more diamond collars or posturing. She simply followed him, her expression sullen and angry, but submissive for fear of the consequences.

Amarantha offered them a wicked smile as they passed, Feyre fighting her sigh of relief as they passed the test. She continued to limp up their own small dais, falling exhausted at Rhys’s feet to survey the crowd. The fae were all busy, focused on themselves, but unlike typical nights, their eyes kept coming back to her. Every so often, she would catch one out of her periphery, but as soon as she felt their eyes on her, they were already looking away. 

Was it because of the last task? Was it because of the task to come? Or was it her oath? That she was willing to die for their freedom might surely draw interest. Or perhaps they hated her for refusing to lay down and die, taking something that could have already been theirs from them before they could even properly enjoy it. 

She chose to ignore it, her eyes instead sweeping over the crowd to find those she always kept track of. Tamlin, strangely, was nowhere to be found, the seat beside Amarantha empty again. Feyre tried not to wonder what kept him on the nights that he wasn’t in court. She hated to think of the things he’d endured here, surely not so different from Rhys. She wondered what would happen if they made it out. Would Tamlin and Rhys ever be able to reconcile, or would her relationships with each need to be kept as separate as water and oil. Could they ever reach an impasse where the pain and trauma they’d suffered might bond them in some way? Or would the past always be there to keep the two of them apart?

On the outskirts of the crowd, Feyre saw Lucien, his hair impossible to miss as he leaned against the wall of the room and spoke to another high fae. His face was set, serious, and she hated the way it looked on him. Lucien was meant to be smiling and cracking jokes, typically at her expense. He was lively and charming and fun, not this angry shell of a male that he was here. She hated the mask he wore, the masks they all wore here. She much preferred his smile, even if it was in mocking her, as it stretched from ear to ear–

She jolted. 

Of course. 

Feyre?

Rhys had felt her jump, or otherwise felt her emotions across that bridge between them. 

I think I just figured something out. 

Oh? Do share. 

I don’t think that Lucien is Beron’s son. 

Go on. His voice was far too calm. 

You knew??

I had my suspicions. 

The glamours, the glowing, his smile. That’s Helion’s smile. 

His jaw, too. 

Does he know?

He’s never said a word to me about it. 

Her eyes tracked over to Autumn, the angry face of Beron staring out over the crowd. Next to him, his sweet looking, glamoured wife. She shot the image to Rhys. 

That’s who he wanted us to save. 

Suddenly, she felt bad about turning him down. Not just an affair then. He loves her. 

There were plenty of rumors, but I didn’t start putting pieces together until you woke up from the whippings glowing. Lucien has no idea. 

No, he does not. 

It hurt to imagine that there was another world, another possibility, where Lucien had grown up loved and cared for. He hadn’t been run out of his home, his father hadn’t killed the love of his life. Even the few brief moments she’d spent with Helion had told her enough about him as a person. 

Oh, Lucien. 

Feyre felt a soft brushing of Rhys’s mind against hers, the comfort he could not provide with physical touch. 

You have a kind heart, Feyre. 

Unfortunately, a kind heart only gets you so far. 

Still, I hope you never lose it.

The night wore on, but it was all very standard. Near midnight, Feyre excused herself to go to the bathroom. She wasn’t drinking the wine, but they’d worked up a thirst earlier in the day, and she’d drunk enough water to drown a fish. Since she still couldn’t winnow, it meant a walk back to their rooms, but it was a nice break for Feyre to breathe, dropping the show if only for a moment. 

As she made her way back down the quiet halls, she tried to prevent her mind from wandering. If she lost, she might be living her last hours here. She hated this train of thought, shoved it violently away every time it reared its ugly head. 

Her thoughts were stopped in their tracks as a hand sprung out from the stone wall and yanked her inside, the yelp in her throat stifled by the hand over her mouth. She fought and screamed against it, thrashing in the arms that held her until she heard the voice at her ear. 

“Feyre, it’s me. It’s only me.” 

Tamlin.

She turned in his arms, the tears already spilling from her eyes. Every single emotion she’d been holding back when she refused to look at him at the third task springing immediately to the surface. 

“Feyre.” 

She flung herself into his arms before she’d thought twice about it. 

“I’m so sorry. I killed her. I’m so sorry.” The words rushed out of her as he held her, awkward at first, but his arms eventually folded around her back. 

“Shh, Feyre. Don’t.”

“But I did it. I took the gift you gave me and I killed her. I didn’t–she was going to tell Amarantha everything, and I killed her before she could.” Her tears soaked his shirt, but he stood still, understanding that she’d needed this. 

He wasn’t one for affection, had never been tender or loving outwardly in the time she’d known him, but still, he held her as the tears dried. Feyre understood now what Calla must have seen when she looked at them all. They were a family, a true family, and despite her efforts, Calla had remained outside of that.

“That gift was for you to protect yourself, and that’s what you did,” he said the words quietly, but firmly, as though he wanted no room for arguments

“I killed her,” she whispered again, the enormity of it too loud for the small alcove hidden by a tapestry that they were in. 

“I would never blame you for what happened.” Finally she pulled back, sniffling, her arms crossing as she took him in. He looked beaten down, smaller somehow than she’d ever seen him. This mountain, this hell, was tearing them all apart. 

“How can I save everyone? How can I possibly make this all not for nothing?” 

“You can, Feyre. That's why I came to find you.” 

“You know what the next task is, don’t you?” He nodded, but his lips thinned into a pressed line. “She cursed you. You can’t tell me.” The tiny flare of hope in her chest fizzled to nothing. Feyre opened her mind in case Rhys came looking.

“I just needed to see you. I needed you to hear me say that you must do what she asks. At all costs, you must.”

She didn’t like the way it sounded, and she liked even less the desperation in his eyes. “Is that all you can tell me?” A curt nod was the only response she got. “She’s going to make it painful, isn’t she?” He could barely eke out a nod. 

Feyre’s chest felt hollow, the hopelessness of it all clanging around her. They stood here, two entirely different people from the ones who bantered and drank in the twilight of Spring. 

“I’m sorry, Feyre…about Calla. I should have done more.” 

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Me too. But she’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Nothing we can do but win, Feyre.” She met his eyes then, pleading and open and desperate. “Do what you have to do to save us. Remember what I told you in Spring when you and Lucien asked me about love, and do what she asks.” 

She nodded. “We can talk about the rest when we get out of here.” His eyes shuttered, something in them telling her how badly he wanted that and how improbable he felt it was. 

She opened her mouth to answer, but the tapestry guarding the alcove was pushed aside, Rhys’s silhouette calming Feyre’s defenses immediately. 

Tamlin met his eyes and immediately moved to leave. “Don’t forget what I said, Feyre, a long time ago in Spring.” As he passed Rhys, the two locked eyes, an uneasy nod of peace between them, and then Tamlin was gone. 

It felt like goodbye. 

“I was worried when you didn’t come back.”

“I left my mind open for you.” 

“I know, I could feel it.” 

“Did you hear everything?” 

“I did, but I can’t make any more sense of it than you will.”

“I’m scared, Rhys. It sounds bad.” 

“All we can do is greet it when it comes, and use the time we’re given.” She sighed, her forehead pressed against his. 

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done here.”

“I would do it all again for you, Feyre. I would move this mountain, and all the rest.” Their breath mingled between them, the words stoking to life that magic of hers that loved him so, her chest alight with it. Every word they said to each other was a vow, a promise. 

Perhaps she had mistaken the bargain all along, her quest for his love being the true prize. She’d won it, whether she’d fulfilled the bargain or not. The pulling on her heart told her that he was hers, and she was his, utterly and irrevocably for whatever time they had been gifted. 

When their lips touched, Feyre swore sparks flew, the flames flitting around her fingers but not catching as she ran them through his soft hair. He pressed his hips into hers, her back arching against the wall as he leaned down to kiss her more hungrily.

“What about court?” she got out between kisses. 

“Fuck the court.” And they were falling into their bed, the winnow barely registering as Rhys moved his mouth to her neck. The sigh fell out of her without reservations, her head leaning back to give him more access as he groaned his appreciation and licked a broad stroke up the side of her throat, ending with a kiss pressed behind her ear. Her whole body shuddered, responding beneath him. She was lost to the feel of it, the feel of him. She ached for more. 

She’d barely had time to think the word before she felt his hot skin against hers, sizzling like a brand on her very soul. Their clothes were gone, a halfhearted thought from him all it had taken, and her body seemed to sigh in relief to feel his with nothing left to separate them. 

Rhys returned his mouth to the front of Feyre’s throat, the feel of his plush lips against her skin rendering her breathless as he descended down, down, over her collarbones and past her sternum. She came alive with the touch, his breath sending goosebumps scattering across her freckled skin as he moved his mouth to the side, taking her breast into his mouth and moving his fingers to caress the other. The strokes were gentle and teasing, and as Feyre arched into the sensations, he laughed darkly against her. 

“So responsive, my girl.” The words sent her mind spinning. He’d hardly touched her yet and she could already feel her climax roaring inside of her, coiling tightly around her spine and pulling there, coming fully to life as he pressed kisses along her skin. She could lose herself entirely in him, these feelings, these sensations. She could do this forever. 

She felt the bed move, felt his weight shift, felt his warm breath against her inner thigh. Her body jerked at the reaction, tightening with anticipation, and Rhys wrapped his broad hands around her thighs and pulled. 

“Don’t hide from me, Feyre. Never from me.”  He didn’t give her time to reply before his mouth was on her, his teasing tongue swiping over her, spreading her wide until the pleasure of it overcame all else, and she let her legs fall to the sides, relaxing in his hands. 

She knew him. She was safe with him. 

And gods , but he made her feel. 

She let herself relax into the bed, one hand wrapping in the sheets that smelled so like him, the other with fingers twining through his soft, messy hair. She could get lost in the sensation, forget all meaning of time and presence, just to keep feeling his touch, his warmth, his heartbeat in time with hers. 

When she came, her voice was strangled. A cry that sounded part prayer, part his name while the universe exploded behind her eyelids, back bowing entirely off the bed in response. He continued softly through it, easing her through each wave of her orgasm as she slowly spiraled back down, melting into a boneless heap upon the bed. She was in a haze, the calming feel of joy and satisfaction running lazily through her veins. Here, it felt impossible they could ever be parted, even by the wrath of Amarantha’s intentions. Here, none of it mattered except the eternity laid out for the taking in front of them. Here, she had everything. But still, that fire raged within her, that searing heat demanding more, more, more . 

And Rhys could feel it too. His eyes were focused only on her as he climbed the bed, an animal cornering their prey. But Feyre didn’t want to run– had never run from Rhys, not in any of his many forms– and she never would. Even if she did, Rhys would find her. She knew it to be true. And she’d always want to be caught by him. 

“I need you, Rhysand. Please.” His cocky smile faltered at the declaration, the overwhelm of lust and need sweeping him away in the same rushing torrent of obsession that Feyre found herself in as he settled his weight above her. His forearms fell to each side of her head as his hips rested between hers and he let his mouth fall back to her neck. He breathed her in before he latched on, his mouth finding her pulse point where her neck met her shoulder and sucking it into his mouth. Feyre’s whole body was tingling, the vibrations etched into her skin from her scalp to her toes. 

Feyre , he whispered, and she couldn’t tell if it was in her mind or aloud, the lines all blurring with his mouth hot against her skin. She reached down to touch, to play, her fingertips sliding over his skin and down to the trail of dark hair while he sighed longingly. Then his mouth was on hers, nothing slow about it. His lips moved skillfully, demanding, dominating, needing as she took him in her hands. She could feel his control slipping, the wanting overwhelming all else, and when she pulled away to ask him “Do you want me, Rhys?” His response was immediate. 

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words lit her up as she placed him against her, and he closed his eyes as he pushed inside. His hand wound beneath her, grabbing her ass with enough pressure to make her gasp against his lips as he began to rock into her. 

“You feel incredible, Feyre. You feel like…everything.” The breathless words sent her higher, her hands in his hair, scraping at his scalp, the nape of his neck. He was in her, around her, consuming her, and she wanted no part in making it stop. She pulled him as close as she could until there was nothing left between them, and finding that urge to bury herself beneath his skin still wanting, she pulled herself into his mind. 

The adamant walls fell around her with the tiniest brush against them, welcoming her in with a sharp inhale of his breath. They accepted her, he accepted her, and nestled within his own mind, she was home. Every thought, every feeling, every emotion circled around her, and she was the object of them all. He thought about how lovely she smelled– lilac and pears–the same way that she yearned and ached for his spiced citrus scent. He thought about how it felt like heaven to be inside her, sharing body and mind as one. He thought about how much he loved her, every single fiber of his being singing a song meant for his love, his life, his –

Feyre crashed back into her own mind, the orgasm overtaking her brutally this time as her legs shook around his waist. 

“Oh, gods. Don’t stop. Please don’t–” His mouth was on hers, the kiss near violent in its passion, and she lived for every second. Despite the tender love and gentle things his heart felt for her, this was a claiming, and she wanted him engraved on every part of her as deeply as he could go. 

She had barely caught her breath as he flipped her, hardly pulling out as he put her on her knees. He yanked her hips up and sank back into her, not missing pace as she cried out. Her body buzzed with a feeling of warmth, and it spread until every inch of her was humming with it. She could feel it spread as he sped up, the pace becoming enough that she saw spots in her vision, the pleasure owning every piece of her. She felt him lean over, the heat of his stomach draping across her back. She heard a thought– his thought– as it flitted through his head. He wanted this claiming as much as she did, his lips dancing across her shoulder while he moved inside her. 

Do it. 

Please. 

She sent the thought in a flurry of begging, her voice sounding like a plea even in her mind. He didn’t hesitate, his sharp teeth pressing against the skin of her shoulder as she felt her body tighten, the next wave unrelenting as it crested and crashed upon the last. She cried out as his pace faltered, her body squeezing around his the final push he needed before he gasped out her name, the grip on her hips tightening. She hoped it bruised, his marks on her body delighting her as she collapsed to the mattress below, letting Rhys catch himself on his arm as he fell behind. 

Their sweat-slicked bodies still sought out the other, hands grasping blindly and breath sinking as they came down together. The lights dimmed, and Feyre felt the sheet slide over them, cool and crisp against their flushed skin. 

“You are everything to me, Feyre. Absolutely everything.” The words felt deeper than love, deeper than a promise. 

She twined her fingers in his, pulling his hand up to her chest and pressing her lips to his knuckles. “Mine. Always.” And she meant it.

Long after she had left this world, she’d still mean it. Her heart belonged entirely to him, and as she felt it beat in time with his, she knew that he belonged to her, too. 

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Castiel x reader Chapter 18: The End

Summary: SEASON 5 WHOOOO!!!!!!!! LET's GO! So I am so excited for this season so many great episodes. There are going to be a lot more Cas and Y/n scenes. And more chapters too. I do recommend that you read my first book so you get the full Y/n Winchester build-up. Okay with out further due enjoy the second book of Love War and Grace.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

WC:7.242k

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season five of Supernatural, Emotional hurt for Y/n, Guns, Talk about Alcohol

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About a week passed, and Dean was blowing up my phone with voicemails and texts with apologies. I listened to and read them all, but I couldn't talk to him, not yet. I left Ellen and Jo to have space to think about what Dean had said and they understood. Ellen and Jo still checked in with me by giving me a call. 

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Ellen asked. I sat down on my bed with a beer in hand, thinking about what to say.

“To be honest, Ellen, I don’t know…I mean my whole life, he’s been mine… I just can’t believe he said that about Sam and our family.” She took in my words and tried to find the best to return back with. 

“I know, I think Dean doesn’t understand all that he said either.” I sigh and lay back on my bed with a big flop. 

“Yeah doesn’t mean it doesnt hurt.” I sniff and let a tear fall. 

“Y/n…I'm sorry, I want you to know if you ever need anything Jo and I will be there.” That brings a small smile to my face. 

“Thanks El, I'll talk to you later.” I hang up from her and just sit there and I get a text. “Call if you need anything :) -Jo”

It was amazing to have them, it was almost like having a moth-. My thoughts were interrupted by my phone ringing. “Hey, Cas. Any updates?” 

“The colt.” He responded, plainly.

“The colt that we lost?” I questioned, sipping my beer.

“It’s the only thing that could kill Lucifer, Y/n. And if you three still want to kill him, that's how we do it.” 

“Have any leads?” I ask.

“Where are you now?”

“Kansas city. Rev Motel, room 444”

“Good, I’ll be right there.”

“Cas, wait, I need sleep. Can we meet in like four hours?”

“Okay, four hours.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

I went to sleep but not even an hour later I got a call. It was Sam. I answered instantly.

“Sam?”

“Hey N/n, how are you doing?” 

I didn’t know how to tell him so I did something I hate doing. I lied. 

“Uh…good. You?”

“No, I’m not, I’m I- I’m…the vessel for Lucifer.” That makes me shoot straight up in bed. 

“What!?” I replied.

“Yeah, he told me all Freddy Krueger style.”  I think about it, and it makes sense with the whole prophecy thing.

“Okay. Well then we will take this on like any other thing. I’ll send you my location.”

He pauses and I can almost make out mumbles, “Really just like that.”

“Yeah of course Sam, Why?” I retort.

He sighs and breathes in deeply. “I told Dean, and he said we would be better apart.”

The anger courses through me like a storm. But I didn’t want to upset Sam anymore. I had been going through the same feelings as him. “I'm sorry Sam, it seems Dean has been a jerk to both of us, just call me when you're on your way, kay?”

“Kay, love you Y/n.”

“Love you too Sam.” 

I hung up the phone and crawled back into bed feeling uneasy, like pieces of myself were missing, like I wasn’t whole. I knew what was, but I couldn't force Dean to be here if he didn’t want to be, just like Dad.

Tweet tweet. I slowly opened my eyes and there was a bird in front of me? I fully open them and as my vision clears from sleep. I think I’m still dreaming because my whole room looks like Edward Scissorhands wanted to be a room designer. I got up from the broken bed and everything was tattered and filthy. I put my head outside the window and the whole street looked like it had been abandoned for ten years. I went outside and it was definitely eerie. I felt like I was transported into a zombie movie. I see an old newspaper case and grab one out.

“OUTBREAK NOW HITS KANSAS CITY, WHERE DO WE GO NOW?” My eyes then wandered down to the date. “January 15th, 2014.” What the fuck?

I started to walk down the street trying to gather what was happening. I then walk down an alley and see Dean.

“Dean?” He turns to me and grabs to hug me. I forget what had been said but for just that moment. I then glance over his shoulder and see a little girl, out cold.

“Did you punch a child out?” He looked between him and the girl and saw how bad it looked.

“The little psycho pulled a knife on me!” I'm about to respond when my head turns and I see the one word I wasn’t expecting.

“CROATOAN” 

“Oh shit!” At that, a lot of people spawn out of nowhere, all of them affected by something.

“Run?”

“Run!” Dean agrees with me and we both book it down the street, and holy fuck the affected were like fast zombies. We hit a dead end and are about to be pounced on when the military comes out of nowhere and shoots them all down, miraculously missing us. We parted the barbed wire to clear a fence and begin walking.

“So?” Dean questions.

“Yeah, so what the hell are we doing in 2014!?” I blurt out anxiously. Dean stops me.

“We’re in 2014!?” He utters, reciprocating my fear. I just shake my head.

“Okay, I think we should go to Bobby’s. You?” He asked me, staring intently into my eyes. I couldn't return his gaze.

“Sounds good.” I responded coldly and Dean knew why.

I managed to hotwire a car and we were on our way. A stale silence filled the car which never happened; there was usually talking or music, but not now. With Dean gripping the steering wheel, he finally said the words that had been on his mind for the last hour. 

“So, are we going to talk?”

I don’t even look at him. “About what?”

“You know what, Y/n I really am sor-” I stopped him at that. 

“Dean, we are currently trapped in 2014 with a deadly virus on our asses, I don’t know, could we maybe pause that conversation till we figure it out after?” I never stalled a chance for us to apologize to each other. That's how he knew he really screwed up.

“Of course.” A couple more seconds and we get the living daylights sacred out of us.

“AHH FUCK!” Dean had the same response and there was Zachariah sitting there, smugly. I should of fucking known.

"Croatoan pandemic reaches Australia." He reads off from a newspaper headline.

“I thought I smelled your stink on this Back to the Future crap.” Dean quipped at him.

“‘President Palin defends bombing of Houston.’ Certainly a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports. That's right—no more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What's left of Congress, that is. Hardly a quorum, if you ask me.”

“How did you find us?” I painfully asked him. I didn’t want to look at the fuckface.

“Nice to see you too, Y/n. Afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late—human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups. They've been given your guy’s image, told to keep an eye out.” I think and I know who it was.

“The Nun selling the flowers! That bitch, and to think I bought daisies from her.” I said, shaking my head in annoyance.

“The Bible freak outside the motel—they, what, dropped a dime on us?” Dean said.

“Onward, Christian soldiers.” Zach replied.

“Okay, well, good, great. You have had your jollies. Now send us back, you son of a bitch.” Dean commanded.

“Oh, you'll get back—all in good time. We want you to marinate a bit.” Zach said, amused. I look back to wanting to smack him.

“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

“Three days, Dean. Three days to see where this course of action takes you.” Zach then looks at me.

“And for you, really think if you don’t let your brothers fulfill their prophecy, see what happens.”

At that Dean and I looked at each other, thinking, what were we going to see?

I kick the door open to Bobby’s house.

“Bobby! Bobby!” 

Dean and I go in searching for any sign of Bobby. Sadly, his house looked like everywhere else. The nail in the coffin was just an empty wheelchair in the middle of the hallway covered in cobwebs and dust on its side with bullet holes and dried blood. It had been sitting there for years. 

“Bobby…”

Dean goes to the fire mantel and picks up an old picture of a group of men. One of them was Bobby but strangely, another was Cas. Dean points at the photo.

“Camp Chitaqua.” 

We had gotten to the camp and we had sneaked in. A few steps in and we see a horrible thing- well, at least to Dean. It was Baby. Most of her parts were missing- wheels gone and greenery growing out of it. Dean sticks his head in the open car. 

“Oh, no, Baby, what did they do to you?” 

I hear some rustling and before I know it Dean has been knocked out. I tried to run but it was too late.

A gun cocks. “Turn around, slowly.”

I do and I see my brother, lying unconscious on the ground.

“Dean?” I ask, staring in shock at the man before me, who looks exactly like Dean, but a bit older and before I knew it I was out too.

Future Dean’s cabin had its essentials: guns, food, and liquor. My Dean was still knocked out and handcuffed. I was too smart, because we are all Winchesters, after all.

“So should we talk-” I was stopped because future Dean was giving me the death stare.

“Okay, won’t talk. Got it.” He just sits and stares at me.

“Do I have something on my face or-”

“I need your arm.” He doesn't give me a chance and just grabs it.

“Hey! HEY!” He pulls out a silver knife and makes a cut in my arm. “OW! You could have at least given me a second!”

He stands up and grabs a flask. “We don’t have the luxury of seconds anymore.”

I can’t even respond because Holy water gets thrown in my face. I spit it out.

“I'm not a monster and neither is he.” I nod to my Dean.

“I know.” He said and for a reason there is a tiny bit of sadness behind it.

“How did you two end up here?”

“Fucking Zach.” I say with heavy disdain. Dean chuckles and mumbles something I couldn't hear. “I'm from 2009.” 

“If you were my sister, tell me something we would only know.” Future Dean questions.

I think for a moment and come up with the perfect thing. “My first date stood me up, so you picked me up and we egged his house. You told me that he was an idiot and that you would always… be there for me.” I finish with a small smile thinking about one of the few good memories from my childhood all because of… Dean.

“Yeah, I wanted to throw it at his car, but you said that was too far and I remember being happy that you still cared.” Dean said looking down at his hands with a hint of melancholy to his voice. Which made me curious.

At that moment my Dean wakes up. “Y/n! Y/n!” 

“Dean, I'm okay! So are you.” My Dean looked at Future Dean and a look of horror consumed his face. This was getting too confusing. I decided to call my Dean by his name and the future one DD. It was a nickname I had for him when I was little.

“I know Zach threw you guys here. Where is he? I want to talk to him.” DD asked Dean.

“We don’t know.” Dean answered for us.

“So, what, Zach zapped you two up here to see how bad it gets?”

“I guess. Croatoan virus, right? That's their endgame?” Dean asked DD. I mean it has to be right?! I wondered.

“It's efficient, it's incurable, and it's scary as hell. Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the major cities about two years ago. World really went in the crapper after that.” Two years ago? Then where the Hell is Sam? My thoughts raced.

“Then what about Sam?” Dean had the same question as me, rightly so.

DD is silent for a second. You could see the cogs turning in his head as he thought about how to respond.

“Heavyweight showdown in Detroit. From what I understand, Sam didn't make it.” Dean and I widened our eyes at that news.

“What happened?” I questioned, scared for the answer.

“No. No, me and Sam, we haven't talked in—hell, five years,” DD replied. I look between DD and Dean. So that is what happens. Why didn't I try to connect us together?

“What about me?” I ask, concerned. DD turns his head and puts it down in shame.

“I haven't seen you in five years, N/n.” At that, DD starts to leave.

“Wait, wait! What’s that supposed to mean?” I tried to grab his attention because that short explanation was not good enough, especially considering the situation we were in. 

“It means that we…I haven’t seen you for five years.” He stops the conversation there, grabs his stuff and turns to Dean.

“Okay. All right. Fine. But you don't have to cuff me, man. Oh, come on. You don't trust yourself?” Dean said to DD, very offended. DD looks between the two of us.

“You're right, I'm sorry.” He goes and grabs a pair of handcuffs and secures them on my wrists.

“Hey, that's not fair!” I reply, trying to defend myself.

DD turns to me and gives a look, as if to say, “Really?”

“Okay, fair.” DD rolls his eyes and leaves the cabin. Dean and I look at each other.

“How the hell are we always short sighted in our own Back to the Future movies?” I asked Dean.

“I don’t know, Y/n, maybe Marty McFly screwed the system for us.” Dean used a nail he quickly pulled out from the floor board, unlocked his cuffs, and threw me the nail. I followed suit, while Dean started to leave.

“Uh, where do you think you're going?”

“I'm going to check out all this!” He pointed outside.

“What about everyone else seeing doubles?” I said, pointing out the obvious.

“Oh please, with the world they live in, I think they will be okay. Are you going to come?”

I looked around and decided that I needed to uncover a little more in here. “I'm going to look around in here.”

“Okay I'll be back in an hour.” He opened the door, glanced around, and snuck out.

I stand up. Let's just say the cabin did not have much charm to it. “Okay, time to Scooby Doo this bitch.”

I had been looking around for about thirty minutes and I had found nothing, just six guns and eight empty booze bottles, which was typical of Dean. As I walked around the room, a floorboard creaked. “Uh huh, still the same hiding spot from when you were a teen Dean.” I kneel down and pry the board open to find a brown leather journal that looks identical to our Dad’s. I picked it up and started to go through it. Usually I wouldn’t do this, but DD is definitely hiding something important.

“It's been a year since this damn breakout started. Bobby and I tried to defend Sioux Falls the best we could but we had to leave. The Croatans are never ending and basically are super powered. I haven’t really gotten sleep. The only aid I get is from a bottle if I'm lucky enough to find one. It's the only reason why I won’t have nightmares about what happened…” 

I began to filp the page to continue reading but before I could I heard Dean scream followed by a gunshot. I dropped the journal and ran out the door and towards the sound. I see a clearing and Dean and DD standing there with a dead dude on the ground. Other people were staring at Dean like it was The Parent Trap. 

“Dean! Are you okay!?” I ran to his side. 

“Yeah I’m fine, but he isn't.” He glanced down to the poor sap.

“Who shot him?” I questioned and at that time I noticed everyone looking at me even weirder than the twins.

“Uh, my twin.” Dean responded.

Then I felt someone touch my shoulder. I turned to see Cas standing before me.

“Cas?” He just stares in my eyes and I see so much pain and sorrow behind them. He pulls me in for a deep and strong hug, even stronger than when he hugged me after he came back from the dead.

“Cas are you okay?” I squeeze back.

We let go and he gives me a chilling response:

“Y/n, you've been dead for five years.”

I somehow found myself back in the cabin, my whole world turned upside down. Dean and I were silent, thinking about what was just uncovered. DD was just standing there silently.

“So, you want to say something DD?”

He looks at me with emotion in his eyes that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. “You haven’t called me that since you were eight.” 

“Yeah it’s a little too The Parent Trap to call you both Dean. Let’s move on from childhood names and tell me, how the hell am I dead, and why didn't you tell us?” I declared, crossing my arms. I had no way of regulating my feelings more than I usually do.

DD sighs and looks down and Dean and I are waiting. “Five years ago you died in Detroit, that's the day I regretted not saying yes.” He turns to Dean.

“That’s why you have to say yes.” Dean stared at DD.

“How do I die?” I asked.

“I don’t remember, no one does.” He poured a tall glass of whiskey.

“What do you mean you don’t remember!?” I slammed my hands down on the table in confusion and anger.

“I mean that no one remembers how it happens. Maybe it was from trauma or the Angels but we all can’t remember shit about that day.” He finished by gulping down the drink. I had to get some air, so I headed outside.

I started walking while everyone looked at me like they were seeing a ghost. Technically, they were. I didn't even realize that my legs were running till I got to a clearing where I was far enough away that I could think straight. I leaned my back against a big tall pine tree, letting myself slide down to the stump. I tried to catch my breath in the cold air, and it was obvious that I wasn’t doing a good job. As I exhaled, my breath looked like a white plume of smoke. Thousands of thoughts ran through my head, none of them stopping to drink water. 

“Hey, are you okay?” A deep scruffy voice asked from the other side of the tree. I didn't need to turn to see who the owner of the voice was. It might have sounded a little strained and hoarse, but I knew it was my best friend. I got up, slowly trying not to stumble while ignoring the oncoming headache. 

“To be honest, Cas, no. I mean, how are you supposed to react when you die in almost a year?” I put my hand on my head trying to calm it.

“It’s been five years for me, the worst five years.” He sits down on a stomp and takes out an old pack of cigs that looks about ten years old. He lights one up and breathes it in and blows out a long puff of smoke. I went to sit down next to him.

“Since when do you smoke?” I waited for an answer and just took a good look at him. He was still handsome as ever, but looked aged and scared in more than one way.

“Since you died and the world went to shit.” He throws the cig and then he takes out a small flask, immediately throwing it back like he couldn't be without a substance for more than a couple of seconds. I hated seeing him like this.

“Do you remember how I-” I hesitated to continue. not wanting to speak it in existence more than it had.

“How you die? No, I don’t, like everyone else.” He offered me the flask and I thought, what the hell. I take it and drink it back. 

“Ugh that tastes disgusting- it’s like old peach schnapps.” I pulled it from my mouth and spit it out on the ground.

He takes it back, smiling. “That's ‘cause it is, Y/n. Not many stores in the apocalypse, but as long as it gets me drunk I don’t care.” He then again drinks it back like it’s nothing, telling me he’s had a lot of practice.

“So what happened after I… died.”

“Well, the Angels had their fun letting the Croats and demons run around after the planet was barely spinning. We've been trying to save what’s left.” I hadn’t heard such a hopeless sentence for a long time. Then I realized something that should be so obvious.

“Cas… You're not an Angel anymore, are you.”  He chuckles at that.

“N/n, always so smart. Yeah, I lost my wings a long time ago. I think it had something to do with the others leaving. I don’t know. So, I'm useless.” He drank again.

“Useless?”

“Yeah, useless, I couldn’t even… save you.” He says, full of regret and disdain.

“Cas, you have never been useless, even after losing your wings, despite what you think. You are useful just being you! Don’t blame yourself for what happened. I can tell you, even though for me it hasn’t happened yet, it wasn’t your fault.”

He turns to me and gives me a real smile. 

“I missed that.”

“Missed what?”

“Missed you pulling me from hell, no matter what.”

Cas and I walked back to the cabin. When we arrived, everyone was having a meeting and the colt was in the middle of the table.

“Is that the colt!?” I asked, surprised, and sat down. Cas looked curious as well.

Both DD and Dean stared at me as how to I was doing.

‘How are you doing?” Dean whispered to me.

“I…” I didn't really know.

“So, that's it? That's the Colt?” Risa questioned.

“If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it.” DD responded holding up the gun confidently.

“Great. Have we got anything that can find Lucifer?” Risa threw back with attitude and she did have a good question.

“Are you okay?” DD was confused.

“Oh, we were in, uh, Jane's cabin last night. And, apparently, we and...Risa have a connection.” Dean told DD and I had to try to hold back my laughter.

“We don't have to find Lucifer. We know where he is. The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the big guy's entourage. He knew,” DD stated.

“Are we really trusting a demon?” I just couldn't believe Dean, especially that this Dean (DD) would take a demon's word truthfully.

“ Y/n our fearless leader, I'm afraid, is all too well schooled in the art of getting to the truth.” Cas said and I could tell he was sad saying it.

“Torture? Oh, so, we're—we're torturing again. No, that's—that's good. Classy.” Dean said in disbelief to DD.

Cas laughs at that and DD gives him a look.

“What? I like past you.” Cas riposted back.

“Lucifer is here. Now. I know the block and I know the building.” DD brought out a map and a block was circled.

“Oh, good—it's right in the middle of a hot zone.” Cas clearly pointed out.

“Crawling with Croats, yeah. You saying my plan is reckless?” DD replied.

“Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the Croats, and we shoot the devil?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay, if you don't like, uh, 'reckless', I could use 'insouciant', maybe,” Cas stated.

“Are you coming?”

“Of course. But why is he? I mean, he's you five years ago. If something happens to him, you're gone, right?” Cas was right- I should technically be dead- but not him.

“He's coming.” DD commanded firmly.

Cas is done with DD’s bullshit and just agrees to halt the conversation. “Okay. Well, uh. I'll get the grunts moving.” Him and Risa leave.

“Why are you taking us?” Dean asked DD. DD reloads his gun, looking down.

“Relax. You'll be fine. Zach's looking after you, right?”

“No, that's not what I mean. I want to know what's going on.” Dean was right.

“Yeah, I second that.” I chimed in.

“Yeah, okay. You're coming because I want you to see something. I want you to see our brother.”

“Sam’s dead like me right…?” I asked, hesitantly. DD looks into my eyes and sighs and then turns to Dean.

“Sam didn't die in Detroit. He said 'yes'.”

“Wait. You mean—” 

“That's right. The big 'yes'. To the devil. Lucifer's wearing him to the prom.” 

“Why in the hell would Sam do that? It makes no sense.” I wondered, voicing my thoughts.

“I don’t know why N/n, but now we don't have a choice. It's in him, and it's not getting out. And we've got to kill him, Dean. And you need to see it—the whole damn thing, how bad it gets—so you can do it differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Zach said he was gonna bring you back, right? To ‘09?”

“When you get back home—you say 'yes'. You hear me? Say 'yes' to Michael.” DD was chest to chest with Dean, pleading with him.

“If Dean does that then Michael and Lucifer will smoke half the planet.”

“AT LEAST YOU’LL BE ALIVE!” DD yelled, finally letting his anger out.

“Look around you, man. Half the planet's better than no planet, which is what we have now. Your sister can still be alive. If I could do it over again, I'd say 'yes' in a heartbeat.” DD continued.

“So why don't you?” Dean asked.

“I've tried! I've shouted 'yes' till I was blue in the face! The angels aren't listening! They just—left—gave up! It's too late for me, but for you—” DD went on.

“Oh, no. There's got to be another way,” Dean interrupted.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. I was cocky. Never actually thought I'd lose. But I was wrong. Dean. I was wrong. I'm begging you. Say yes. So our sister can live.” 

I get in a truck with Cas to head to the site where Sam supposedly is. It’s so weird to see him driving, but I liked it. He takes out a bottle of pills and takes a couple.

“Pills? What the hell are those?” I nod my head to the bottle.

“Amphetamines, you want some?” Cas easily said, without regard. My stomach dropped.

“Sure.” I give a sweet smile, prompting Cas to hand me the bottle. I proceeded to roll down the window and threw the bottle out.

“WHAT THE HELL Y/N? Do you know how hard it is to find those?” Cas tried to focus on the road and not to turn back.

“No I don’t, and I don’t care.”

“Why!? Why would you do that?”

“Because you're not being you!”

“What does that even mean!” He exclaimed, hitting the wheel, turning to glare at me quickly before looking back at the road.

“The Cas I know would never get high and drink!”

“I'm not the Cas you know or knew I don’t really know but after you died… I couldn't, I just couldn't.”

“Cas, listen to me. After this, go somewhere for me.”

He looked to me. “Where?”

“Go see the Northern lights.” 

“Why there?”

“I never got to go and probably never will, so you go for me. I don’t want you to be sad, I want you to get the full human experience, feel sad, and mad... and love. Feel for me, because I can’t bear to see a shell of you. Just promise me, okay?” I grab his hand and squeeze it tightly.

“Okay, I promise.”

We had gotten to the site and it was an old repair building. DD started telling us the plan. 

“There. Second-floor window. We go in there.” He pointed up to the building. He said this as if it was easy to accomplish.

“You sure about this?” Risa rightfully questioned.

“They'll never see us coming. Trust me. Now, weapons check. We're on the move in five.” This is too easy and fishy, I thought. He’s lying.

“Hey, uh, me. Can I talk to you for a sec?” Dean nodded at DD.

I get up to go with them. “Tell me what's going on.”

“What?” Dean in any timeline can be such a bad liar.

“DD, you forget that I have been with you our entire lives. What the fuck are you planning?” I pointed at his chest.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” DD rebutted back. 

“Oh, really? Well, we don't seem to be the only members of your party with some questions, so, uh, maybe we will just take our doubts over to them.” Dean and I started to walk away.

“Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. Take a look around you, guys. This place should be white-hot with Croats. Where are they?” He said, holding us back by the collars of our shirts.

“They cleared a path for us. Which means that this is—”

“A fucking trap. Then we can’t go through the front!” I concluded.

“Oh, we're not. They are. They're the decoys. We're going in through the back, us three.” My jaw dropped at what DD suggested.

“You mean you're gonna feed your friends into a meat grinder? Cas, too? You want to use their deaths as a diversion?” 

DD looks away in shame.

“Oh, man, something is broken in you. You're making decisions that I would never make. I wouldn't sacrifice my friends.” That's when DD snaps.

“You're right. You wouldn't. Maybe seeing that your SISTER DIES BECAUSE OF YOUR STUBBORNNESS CHANGES THAT!” He screamed at Dean and his eyes floated to me in the tension. Dean and I turned to each other, knowing we had to go warn the rest of our party.

“These people count on you. They trust you.” Dean tried to counter.

“They trust me to kill the devil and to save the world and that's exactly what I'm gonna do.” DD replied coldly and hopelessly.

“No. Not like this, you're not. We are not gonna let you.” We start walking away and suddenly, Dean is knocked out.

I gasped and turned to DD. “DD please, I know you don’t want to do this, I know you don’t want to kill your friends, Castiel, just to kill the devil.” I was backed up against a tree as DD came closer.

“Y/n, I want to trust me (Dean). Like you said, you know me, but I can’t let him keep living. Not after having you die ‘cause of it. I really am sorry.” I didn’t get another word until the handle of DD’s shotgun went into my head.

I slowly start waking up to the sound of lots of gunfire. I stumble to get up. I was pretty sure I had a concussion. Everything is a little blurry and tilted. Dean is still knocked out and DD is nowhere to be found. 

“Dean, get up!” I shook him but he was not budging. I sighed in frustration and anxiety. I remembered why there was a lot of gunfire, the trap, and Cas.

“I'll be back Dean!” I tell him in his unconscious state and run to the building.

I enter as quickly and quietly as possible. There are dead Croats and sadly, there are some of our own, lying on the floor. I pick up a gun and go up the stairs where I find Cas killing a Croat.

“Cas!” I run up to him, he drops the body, and I run into his arms. “Oh thank God.” I whispered and tightened my grip on him. And so does he. We let go.

“I think that is what I miss most, is your hugs.” He says and I can see tears build up in his blue soulful eyes, mixed with regret and affliction.

“Can you promise me something?” He continued.

“Of course.” I nodded my head.

“When you get back will you uh hu-” His words suddenly stopped and blood slowly started to come out of his mouth.

“Cas!?” He slumps down revealing that a Demon had stabbed him in the back. The demon pulls out the knife and gives me a creepy smile.

“Aww did I kill your boyfr-” I pulled out my gun and shot him in the face not letting him have the fucking satisfaction of finishing his sentence.

“CAS! Cas, stay with me! It’s okay, I'll get help!” I frantically said, panic rushing through me.

“N/n you can’t even if…you could there is nothing that could help me in this timeline just stay with me please?” Cas said in between coughs. Blood is now spraying on his shirt. It was like deja vu- flashes of Sam flashed through my head.

“I’m here, Cas.” I pull his head on my lap and stroked his hair.

“Ha ha ha...” Cas somehow laughed through more coughing fits.

“How in the hell are you laughing right now?” I said while tears rolled down my cheeks.

“It’s just funny that a formal Angel is dying from something as simple as a stab wound, don’t you think?” He gave me a half-stoned smile.

“Ha, I don’t think it’s funny at all.” I sniffed.

“I'm sorry I can’t go see the lights.” I could feel he was slipping away quickly.

“Oh Cas don’t be sorry, I just always wanted you to live for you.” My tears were coming out and there was no stopping it.

“I was really stupid when you were still here.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I never told you how you changed me, how you gave me courage, how you taught me to lov-” He just stops.

“Cas! CAS!” I shook him hard now, a full-on waterfall coming down my face. “Cas…” I whispered. He was gone.

How come the people I care about keep dying? I thought.

There was a crack of lighting outside to pull me out of my thoughts. I looked down and saw … Sam.

“I’ll be back to bury you I promise.” I say in Cas’s ear and kiss his forehead.

I run outside to be met with a rose garden and Sam is in this full white suit, DD’s head under his foot. His backside is to me. DD sees me and tries to say something but is stopped by his neck being snapped.

“Y/n well, this is a surprise. I was just expecting our brother.” He said this so calmly like it was normal that it sent a chill down my spine.

“You are not Sam.” I circled him carefully.

“You're right, I'm not, but he does desperately want to see you, he’s begging me to come up to just speak to you for a minute. I mean, how could you blame him, his little sister has been dead for five years.” He tried to jab at me to get some type of an emotion to manipulate but I would not give in as all of it was expelled about two minutes ago. Dean then shows up behind him.

“You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?” He said to the both of us. Giving us sinister eyes and speaking like a snake.

“Well, go ahead. Kill us.” Dean blurts out. I mean, both of us will die anyway, I thought.

“Kill you?” He looks at DD, who is dead, then back at me with a confused look. 

“Don't you think that would be a little...redundant?” 

“I'm sorry. It must be painful, speaking to me in this—shape. But it had to be your brother. It had to be.” Sam, or more technically, Lucifer, rebuttals back. He reaches for Dean and my shoulders but we both pull back. 

“You don't have to be afraid of me, you two. What do you think I'm going to do?” 

“You know we may not be full Bible knowledge holders but we do the major stuff of what you did and continue to do.” I fought back, not falling for his bullshit.

“Yeah, what she said.” Dean nodded at me in agreement.

“Why? Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion different ways. The last perfect handiwork of God.” Neither of us wanted to hear these lies. “You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?”

“No, but I’m sure you're going to annoyingly tell us.”

“Ahh Y/n, I have always loved your little quips. You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything. And then God created…” He smiles and turns his head down on us. “You. The little...hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you—to love you, more than him. And I said, ‘Father, I can't.’ I said, ‘These human beings are flawed, murderous.’ And for that, God had Michael cast me into hell. Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially, when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it.” I hadn’t had the urge to punch someone so hard since Ruby.

“You're not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy-for-the-devil crap. We know what you are.” Dean said for the both of us.

“What am I?” 

“You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing our whole lives. An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you is the size of your ego.” Lucifer smiles at us like we are little kids playing cops and robbers.

“I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you. Goodbye. We'll meet again soon. And Y/n I’m sorry, I won’t be able to hear your funny lines again.” He turns away from us.

“You better kill me now!” Dean screams at him.

“Pardon?” 

“You better kill me now. Or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop.”

“I know you won't. I know you won't say yes to Michael, either. And I know you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here. I win. So, I win.”

“You're wrong.”

“See you in five years, Dean. Y/n, Sam loves you though I could give him that.” At that thunder and lighting crack, Lucifer disappears, and Dean and I turn to see Zachariah reaching for us.

“Wait! I have to bury Cas!” Of course, I didn’t get to.

Dean and I are dropped in Dean’s hotel room and we lean against the sink to catch our breaths.

“Oh, well, if it isn't the ghost of Christmas screw you.” Dean said in annoyance.

“Enough. Dean, enough. You saw it, right? You saw what happens. You're the only person who can prove the devil wrong. Your sister dies. Just say yes.”

“How do I know that this whole thing isn't one of your tricks? Huh? Some angel hocus-pocus?”

“The time for tricks is over. Give yourself to Michael. Say yes and we can strike. Before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before billions die.” He then turns to me.

“Y/n, you die, don’t you want to live, convince your brother.”

Dean and I are on the same page because at the same time we both say “Nah.”

“'Nah'? You two are telling me you haven't learned your lesson?” 

“Look, off-brand Disney channel character, I’m in charge of my future, not what you dicks have planned.” I poured a drink for Dean and I.

“And I've learned a lesson, all right. Just not the one you wanted to teach.” Dean quipped drinking back.

And anger just surges through him. “Well, I'll just have to teach it again! Because I got you now, boy, girl and I'm never letting you—”

We landed on the side of the road under a lamplight and Cas was standing there.

“That's pretty nice timing, Cas.” Dean let out a breath of relief.

“We had an appoi-” I didn’t let him finish before I threw my hands around him trying to take in everything about him. Trying to find his heartbeat ‘Thump Thump’ there it is.

“Sorry, I just…” How was I supposed to tell him? “Missed you.” I finished. Dean’s eyes went between us knowing the reason for the sudden hug and he tried to bring attention away from it.

“Cas don’t ever change.” He claps Cas’s shoulder in awe and a smile.

“How did Zachariah find you?”

“Long story. Let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?”

“And Nun’s selling flowers.” Dean then pulls out his phone.

“What are you doing?” Cas asks. I glance down and see Sam’s name on his phone and I smile at it.

“Something I should have done in the first place.”

Dean and I are waiting by the Impala for Sam. His car pulls up and I send a quick prayer to whatever is out there that everything goes smoothly. Sam gets out and walks over slowly.

“Sam.” Dean pulls out the demon knife.

“If you're serious and you want back in...you should hang on to this. I'm sure you're rusty.” Wow Dean is actually listening to me, crazy, I thought. Sam takes the knife.

“Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm...whatever I need to be. But I was, uh—wrong.” Dean confessed.

“What made you change your mind?” Sam asks and well a lot Sam.

“Long story. The point is...maybe we are each other's Achilles heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human.”  The three of us I don’t know. I haven't really felt like this before. Not sure if we need these extra two sentences, maybe change this? 

“Thank you. Really. Thank you. I won't let you down.” Sam really was thankful.

“Oh, I know it. I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet.” Dean said, talking like a true older brother.

“Uh excuse me you mean third best hunter right?” I added in. My brothers both chuckle at me.

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asks.

“I’ll tell you what we do, Sam, we kick ass and take names and our future.” I ended.

“Guess we have no choice.”

[finniestoncrane]

Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 17: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2.2k would you believe that coflict and tension really stress me out? and yet... request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst, arguing, mean things, aggressive kissing

You woke up in your bed to a headache, the reward for the resounding nightmare that was the night before. Back to normal, you supposed. No more escape. No more relief. No more Mark. Just the inescapable and oddly addictive punishment of being openly disliked by Eddie, a man you still admired and desired for some reason. Nothing to do but to take his criticisms, because they were all you had now.

Stepping into the living area, you slumped down onto the sofa, noticing Eddie at the kitchen table once you had rubbed your bleary eyes and were awake enough to take in your surroundings. He looked up at you over his coffee and book, offering no expression or words, and then returned his gaze to his reading. He had nothing to say to you, not yet at least. While he was happy that you had moaned his name, he was still irritated that you’d even let someone else put their filthy hands all over you. Or… not someone else. Just someone.

Cursing himself, he forced the thought to remain before pushing it away. There was no point in lying, he had to be honest with himself now. The evidence was there, and only an idiot could ignore it for much longer. He wasn’t bothered because you allowed just anyone to kiss you, to touch you. You lived with him, and he was clearly the superior stock. Why weren’t you begging him to touch you? Why wouldn’t you let him do that? And why did he want to? But, of course he knew the answer. To all of those questions. It was impossible though, and ridiculous, and he refused to admit it. Which infuriated him all the more. You had him questioning himself, and his intelligence. Unable to listen to his own brain.

Eddie gripped his coffee mug, knuckles white with tension, and glared at you, not realising when you had caught his eye until you questioned him.

“You good?”

You had noticed his stare from the sofa, and it concerned you. There was nothing you could think of that you had done wrong since getting up. Nothing you had done wrong, that he knew of, last night. So the intense, hate-filled stare made you worry more than usual. You weren’t sure you could take his insults this early in the morning. Not yet, anyway. Not while you were still hurting from Mark. Not while your heart was heavy with the realisation that the choice between him and Eddie had been made for you, and that the option you were settling for might not be the right one.

“No. I’m not good. I was having a pleasant breakfast until…”

“Until?”

“Until you interrupted me.”

“Oh my god, it is eight in the morning. I can’t do this so early.”

“Do what? Take criticism? Behave normally?”

You looked into his eyes, maintaining the stoic silence in the face of his jibes, the way he was obviously trying to goad you into an argument.

“Very well. You can apologise later. But by that point I will be fully awake, and so I’m afraid I won’t go as easy on you. I might not even accept your futile attempts at reconciliation. I might instead unleash the full force of my fury. Of course, you could just sit there like a good girl and take your punishment, and then apologise…”

Your whole body tensed, a holy coursing through your veins and up your spine at the words. It was comforting, horrendously so, to know that you still held feelings for him. But you kept still and quiet, much to his dismay.

“Fine. But the likelihood of you running to your room in tears as usual increases exponentially with each minute that goes by where my irritation must remain tethered and without apology. And when I use exponentially, my dear, I use it correctly. Not that you would know.”

Despite the fact that you were still reeling from his comments, you could feel your rage building up. It wasn’t the day for it. You were still wrestling with the difficult residual emotions from last night with Mark. The last thing you needed was for Eddie to give you grief over nothing, and worse than that, to let yourself be dragged down with him.

To Eddie, though, this wasn’t an argument over nothing. He was jealous, and angry because of it. And his inability to accept how he felt, or god forbid tell you about those feelings, meant he had decided there were no other options but to divert that rage for himself at you. Berating you was par for the course, it was what was familiar to him now, and to you. So, unless he wanted you to catch on to him, he had to keep things as normal as possible.

Staring at you, he tutted, opening his mouth to speak. But you interrupted him before he could get a word out.

“Eddie. I’m warning you. This is not the day. This is not the time. If you start something with me, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

Smiling with cruel intrigue, he placed his mug down on the table and tented his fingers in front of him.

“My, my! You’re actually going to attempt to best me? Very well. But know that insulting you is like shooting very stupid fish in a very small barrel.”

“Oh, of course. I imagine it is. You’re very good at making me feel small.”

“I am, aren’t I? My finest work. My masterpiece. Is that what you consider yourself? Do you think under my tutelage that you’ve become brave and clever enough to even attempt to best me?”

Eddie watched as your face fell, eyes wet with the threat of tears. Suddenly, his rage paled in comparison to the sickening empathy he felt for you. Even if he wanted to force the feelings into the back of his mind, there was no denying them. And admittedly, as pleasant as it was to relieve some of the tension he held by letting his anger out, it was only hurting him further. To be the one who made you feel that way, to make you cry. Perhaps he’d pushed you into someone else’s hands. Expertly, of course, but unintentionally.

So, instead of continuing to irritate and berate you, he stood up from the table and walked away. No explanation needed, he felt. He was content to end the conversation with no resolution. Watching him slinking into his office, you felt you should have been grateful for the abrupt end to your abuse, but by that point you had decided that you weren’t going to take it lying down anymore. You were angry. Angry at Eddie, and at Mark, and at yourself. Someone deserved to take the brunt of it. Taking a leaf out of Eddie’s book, you decided he would be the one to take it.

Opening the door quickly after he had just closed it, you stood in front of his desk. He was taken by surprise, suddenly shaken from his thoughts. His rumination over why he couldn’t be nice to you, despite his desperation to do so, was interrupted by your presence. Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. He waited patiently for you to speak, scoffing derisively at what you had to say when you finally plucked up the conversation to say it.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said fuck you.”

“Yes. Well, is that all?”

“No. It’s not.”

He sighed, looking up at you. He was afraid to stop you. This was more than you usually spoke to him, and with more passion than what he was used to. He had been worried he’d broken you. This bout of bravery made his chest tighten, his palms sweating as he watched you steady your breathing before you continued.

“You need to… get a grip. You need to control yourself. I don’t know if you’re stressed or upset, god knows I am. But there are… other ways, better ways of calming yourself down than hurling infantile insults at me. So… shut up. Just. Shut up, or I swear…”

“I see. So you’re going to start a fight with me? Dish it out as good as you get it? I’m not allowed to insult you, but you’re going to threaten to be just as mean back. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yep. If that’s what it takes. I think we can get along. I think there are better ways of clearing the air. But if that’s how you want to play it then… so be it. What’s stopping you now? Let’s go.”

Standing up, Eddie paced slowly around his desk until he was standing in front of you.

“Are you even sure you’re capable of handling that?”

“Not particularly. But I’m willing you let you hurt me if it means I finally find the courage to attempt to hurt you. To tell you exactly how I feel.”

“And… how do you feel?”

There was something about the way he asked, softer than his usual tone. Genuine curiosity behind the words. You wanted to tell him everything, all of the truth. But right now, you wanted to scream at him. Letting him know your anger felt more important in the moment.

“I feel angry. I feel trapped.”

“Hm, trapped in an opportunity? Trapped in… free housing?”

You shook your head, laughing incredulously.

“Trapped with a lunatic! With a giant baby who can’t express his feelings and doesn’t know when enough is enough, despite claiming to know everything!”

Eddie took a step towards you, and you defiantly stood your ground.

“And I suppose for me this is like a pleasant vacation? Or is it more along the lines of me having to adjust my living space and routines to an imbecile who is constantly in my personal space and is incapable of doing the job she was hired to do?”

“Maybe it’s impossible to meet your ridiculous standards? Did you ever think that? Maybe that’s why no one can tolerate you, and no one has ever been able to? No friends. No family. No one. I was willing to… I could have been… just… But no! Because you-”

Eddie could feel the words that got stuck in your throat, the things you left unsaid revealing more to him. He could piece it together. That you cared. Or you had at one point. And it was unknown to him if it was too late to claw back some of the early admiration you had displayed. He wouldn’t be much of a curious man if he didn’t at least attempt to find the definitive answer though.

Stepping closer now, his nose practically against yours, his breath hissed. Spit frothed behind his gritted teeth as he tried to figure out what he was doing, or what he was going to do. You waited with bated breath for his final blow. He opened his mouth, lips curling, trembling almost. The words were right there, but they weren’t coming.

Instead of speaking, he brought his mouth to yours, his fingers gripping at your forearms, drifting to your back, his arms wrapped around you. He was holding you, no strong emotion you could place, as though there were a hundred attached, keeping you in place. He was vamping, trying to distract you maybe? As though he were unsure what to do or say.

You gasped, placing your hands against his chest. You had assumed you were going to push him away, but you found yourself gripping at his shirt, holding him to you. You made the mistake of letting loose a soft moan, almost imperceptible. Eddie suddenly pulled back, staring at you with wide and terrified eyes. He really didn’t know what to say or do. And neither did you. You just stared back at him, mouth slightly open. It was too much, far too much to take in. Eventually, Eddie found it in him to speak.

“I didn’t mean that.”

He was enraged. Those weren’t the words he wanted to say. But they were the first ones his brain managed to force out.

“Of course not.”

You turned, walking away from him. In a daze, you made your way to the work room with every intention of starting your day normally now. You hoped you might be able to pretend like nothing had happened before now. That you hadn’t kissed Eddie, that neither of you had held the other against them as though you never wanted them to let go. Because the concept of that, of what had just transpired between you… It was out of your intellectual grasp, as Eddie might have said. Walking away seemed like the safest option. You should have done that in the first place. When he tried to argue with you in the living area. When you’d first stepped foot into the sewers. When you had met him face to face. You should have walked away.

[douevenbleachbro]

Part 1

Staying with Hikifune gave Ichigo time, and though most of it was spent stuffing his face into a stupor, some of it was also spent thinking of a certain petite shinigami that was somewhere within these walls. He could feel her reiatsu, albeit slightly, lingering in the space around him. Had she been there? Was she fully healed? Did she eat? Was she training? Was she stronger? The image of her zanpakutou’s snow white ribbon curling around her came to him mind. He remembered how he felt when he first saw it. It fit her so well. He’s sure she also wants to tap into the side of her power she had yet to reach, just like he did. She was a soldier, after all, and they were at war. There were important things that needed to get done. He needed to figure out his whole situation with Zangetsu and then there were the Quincy and their King - waiting. 

Regardless, Ichigo thought of Rukia and of how much he would like to see her, speak to her, at least once before they left this place. He wasn’t sure of what was going to happen once he faced Yhwach. All he knew was that he had to win, no matter what. The fact that he could die crossed his mind a few times, a blink of a thought like lightening in the clouds. It would send shivers down his spine and made him to swallow hard. But he would arm himself with resolve, and if he didn’t have any, he would borrow from the look his friends gave him or the hope the shinigami had loaded onto his shoulders. They were all expecting him to win, so win he will, because he has to, because he needs to.

Because he wants to see her again.

“Oh, Ichigo! You haven’t touched your fifth plate! Is something wrong?” Hikifune’s downturned face materialized in front of him, snapping him of his reverie and making him jump back. The sudden movement caused the plates to rattle, which didn’t stop Renji from continuing to stuff his face. He spared a quick side-look, shrugged, then went back to scarfing down the rice. Ichigo let out a breath.

“Uh, no Hikifune-san, nothing’s wrong. The foods delicious!” He gave her two thumbs up and a lopsided grin. She gave him a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. 

“I’m so glad to hear it! It’s always so nice to see strapping young men enjoying my food. I mean, I had two other young ones here before you that didn’t eat as much as you do. I should’ve known they would be more reserved. Nobles usually are,” she sighed wistfully, whipping her haori and long lilac tresses as she turned back to her kitchen. Ichigo and Renji gave each other a look.

“Wait, are you saying Captain Kuchiki was here? And you served him...all this food?” Renji asked incredulously, specks of rice falling on his chin. Hikifune turned her head, her finger tapping her chin as she thought.

“Why yes, of course. I serve everyone my delicious food when they’re out of the hot springs. And he needed a lot of food I mean, he was in pretty bad shape. The little one that was with him wasn’t in better shape but she did eat more than he did. She was particularly fond of the strawberry bunny mochi I made,” she giggled, her eyes searching Ichigo’s face. She smiled wider when he delivered. His eyes widened at the mention of the little shinigami - a light returning to his dark eyes. 

“Rukia was here? Of course she liked the damn mochi. I’m surprised she ate it though. She never likes eating cute things,” Renji said as he bit into a chicken leg. Ichigo scowled, eyeing the redheaded food compactor next to him. Something about the way he so casually spoke of what Rukia liked rubbed him the wrong way. They were friends. Best friends. For many, many years, so of course he’d know. But Ichigo knew too. He also knew that strawberry was her favorite flavor and that she probably named all the damn bunny heads and probably made herself near cry at the thought of eating them. 

From her spot, Hikifune giggled again. Ah to be young and dumb! There was something about Ichigo that made her feel almost maternal. Maybe that’s why she sent one of her servants to get some rooms ready for her guests and to make sure that the Captain of the 6th Squad and his vice-captain were on a different floor and on the opposite end of the Ryoka and the vice-captain of the 13th. 

Rukia had never felt this good in her life. Not only was she fully healed, but her hair felt smooth and glossy, and her skin was supple and also very soft. She had renewed energy coursing through her and Shirayuki’s voice was strong and clear in her head. After finally healing and spending some time training with Renji, Rukia was taken to Hikifune’s place where she enjoyed some of the most decadent and delicious food she had ever laid eyes on. I mean, the Kuchiki manor had excellent cooks, but something about this food was more than just filling. Of course, as expected from a member of the 0 Squad, Hikifune’s food was imbued with her reiatsu which replenished them from the inside. She almost stumbled out of the dining hall, only to find that she was setup in a beautiful room with a nice little private onsen. She dipped into the warm water, sighing happily at the relaxing feeling. She didn’t stay too long though, not wanting to drown after she started to feel herself fading into sleep. Now, she sat on her bed, wrapped in the softest robe she’s ever felt, running her fingers through her hair. She stretched leisurely and fell back into the soft pillows, waiting for sleep to take her. 

But it never came. Instead, her mind was filled with everything that had happened so far. Images of the Soul Society being destroyed kept popping up, then the memory of Byakuya’s reiatsu fading away. And then, Ichigo. 

Giving up the idea of sleeping, Rukia sat up with a huff. She knew he was here, probably going through some very intense training. He was being prepped to take on the mantle of Hero of Soul Society. The thought made her chest squeeze. It all seemed so unfair. A part of her knew that there wasn’t anyone else that could take on Yhwach, that it would come down to him in the end. Another part of her raged against the thought, seething at the unfairness and selfishly wishing they could just go back to Karakura and wear their uniforms and go back to school. Another, much smaller but very much there part of her wished she could do the same. 

A stupid thought. She was a soldier of the Soul Society and it was her duty to fight and defend it. This was her place and where she belonged and nowhere else and with no one else! With a groan, Rukia slammed back into the pillows. She took one that was next to her and shoved it over her face, trying to suffocate the intrusive thoughts out of her mind. The room was quite, the only sounds were her breathing and the very soft gurgling water of the onsen. She was alone and no one here could hear her thoughts. It was the night before they would head back into battle, so what would it matter if she let her mind wander a little? Who would it hurt if she allowed herself to daydream, or simply dream, here in the darkness of this big room so far from home. She softened her hold on the pillow, leaving it on her face. It felt nice against her flushed skin. With nothing and no one around, what would she allow herself to think about? Or whom?

Ichigo’s face materialized in her minds eye almost instantly. She snorted out loud at herself. So predictable and terrible. She shouldn’t be thinking about him. She had allowed him to get too close, to change her too much. But she’d be a fool to deny the way her heart started to beat so hard against her ribs when she thought of his dumb face and loud hair and deep, soulful eyes. So here, in the solitude of her room, she allowed herself to bring up her memories of his eyes, and smile, and face. The way he would say her name, callout to her. The way he would look at her as if there was no one else in the room. She brought up the memories of the time he lost his powers and she disappeared before him. The mournful look in his eyes confused her, but mostly it broke her. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his face and make him stop looking like that. But she couldn’t, so she left. Then she came back and gave him his powers and he gave her a different look. It burned through her like liquid fire as she held on to the sword that pierced his chest. They had that small moment together after, when Riruka and Orihime were sleeping next to them. Renji had said they were going to be leaving soon. Ichigo looked like he had a million things to say. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish out of water. Her hands were shaking a little. What was he going to say? Spit it out, idiot! Please, before I have to leave again!. He didn’t and she left, feeling so foolish. What was she expecting? Then he was in the Soul Society looking for Ginjo’s body. His reiatsu was as wild as ever, and it enveloped everything around him, her included. He was at her office door then, looking away and scratching the back of his head. Congrats, you deserve it he had said with that smirk of his. She thanked him - it’s an honor you know? He then gave her that smile of his, warm and sincere, bright and blinding. His fingers skimmed the ends of her now short hair. They stood there, suspended in time, for what seemed like forever. Not a word uttered yet so much was said. Then he was gone again because he doesn’t belong there but she does, and she has a duty to fulfill and whatever she was thinking about was foolish and wrong. But he had been staring at her lips, and she had been staring at his, and they had been so close. In the moment, everything seemed possible, doable. He was standing there in his black robes like he belonged. Maybe he could. Maybe he did.

A sharp rap on her door made Rukia jump, squeaking in surprise. Did she hear that right? Was that her door? Another small knock came and she jumped off the bed, wrapping the soft robe tighter round herself. “Hello?” she whispered at the door.

“Rukia? It’s me. Open up,” Ichigo hissed back. Rukia took a step back, suddenly nervous. She had just spent the last...lord knows how long thinking about this man and now he was there knocking on her door. “Oi, Rukia? Are you there?” He sounded worried, like maybe he mad a mistake. Without a second thought she opened the door.

“Fool, of course I’m here. What’re you doing here?” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was just wearing a robe and nothing else. Ichigo stood at her door holding a tray of what looked like tea. His face was suspiciously flushed, as were his ears and neck. He was wearing what looked like pijamas. He cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly. 

“Hikifune-san gave me this tray and said she had made too much, so maybe I should offer you some. I felt your reiatsu and assumed you were awake, so...want some tea?” He asked lamely, his ears getting a lot more red. He shoved the tray at her. Rukia blinked, then sighed and moved aside to let him in. She closed the door behind him, took a quick breath to steady herself and turned back, following Ichigo into the small seating area in her room. He set the tray down and sat on the floor with his legs crossed as he placed the tea cups on the table. She sat on the other side of the table, watching him work. 

[seancamerons]

2, 5, 8 (Backtrack), 10, 15, 18, 23 & 33

I wanted to start out and say thanks for sending these questions. Answers are under a cut.

Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

I guess Backtrack is the oldest one, and I’m extremely proud of myself for sticking with it. I still fully intend to update it, but I’ve put a lot of time into it (and other stories). 

It’s funny I should even mention my Emma/Jay story Together Forever got me through the early days of the pandemic. It would be a close second, and lately, I’ve been writing a lot for Where Are You Now?  older idea for a story that I reworked starting last year. 

I feel so much for Backtrack because it was also my most challenging and the one that got me back into fanfiction after a few years. Around the same time, I was writing a discontinued story, The Starlet and the Dealer, about Zig and Maya circa season 13 but it’s soapy and I have no desire to revisit it. I’d probably end up throwing Zig and Maya who had a complicated dynamic throughout this story endgame, but it’d be a disservice to the story and it doesn’t matter because of the direction the show went into it was unfair to Zoe’s character even though it’s a fic. Does that make sense?

What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

I do some research, but I do apply a lot of random things from movie quotes, pop culture references, and things I find interesting into stories. 

I guess I researched alcoholism for one of my earlier works I Have Nothing. I remember when I was in school I read a young adult short story in English class back in hs about being a ‘closet drunk’ and I kind of wrote it and threw some things together and some of the things I read about. 

The story is set in season 3 when Emma had quite a bit on her plate from Snake’s cancer to a fallout with her best friend and more importantly, when she loses Sean. Isolated she forges a new friendship with Amy who leads a complicated and tumultuous home life. Sean becomes increasingly worried about her and more and more drawn to her as the story starts. It’s something the show at the time I was writing it didn’t explore until Fiona. 

I also did some research on fake dating for Faking It. I gave it rom-com vibes, it’s one of the more lighthearted things I’ve written with less traumatic events I suppose. 

What is your favorite line/section from [Backtrack]?

I like how Sean and Emma re-meet all over again, so they catch up with one another over coffee and Sean declares why he’s returned and it’s a bit predictable, and then they decide to take a walk in the park and eventually they end up at Emma’s, so I like writing beginnings and it turned into a longfic which it wasn’t meant to be that long. 

Is there a character or ship you’d love to write for, but haven’t yet?

I haven’t written anything about other shows but Degrassi. I’d like to perhaps play in other universes in the future, such as Stranger Things. 

First person to come to mind is Spinner he’s never really a centralized character. He’s either the waiter and tied to The Dot, or I’m breaking him and Emma up. I’ve never written anything centric to him. I guess I tried to expand him more in Backtrack but he’s definitely not a main character. 

As for girlies, Liberty is rarely in my stories, if she is she isn’t centralized she is tied to Manny, and where it works for me/the story, sometimes she’s more friendly, or her loyalties are tied to Manny than to Emma a character I write most about. 

I had Liberty make little cameos in a few stories, like reunion one-shots. I do have ideas for something like that where she is reunited with the child she put up for adoption with JT and grappling with that stuff. I don’t know if I could work with it or whatever, maybe someday. 

Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

My boyfriend knows I sometimes talk about them with him. He seems to be supportive. 

How many WIPs do you have and how many do you expect to finish?

I suck. Here is a list. I do expect to finish most of them? I kind of fell out of love with I Have Nothing and Summer Days so I don't know, I kinda need motivation for them.

Backtrack 

Faking It 

Together Forever 

Where are You Now?

Summer Days 

I Have Nothing 

What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Something about Miles and Lola, Zig and Maya, or some later characters. Maybe something special like where I peep where they are a few years after Lola graduates and where she is and how Zaya’s doing in California. I don’t know. I got some plot bunnies. 

A character you want to protect.

I destroy them so I can fix them. No one is safe. Just kidding, I don’t know how to answer that. 

Thanks for sending me these questions!

[sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings]

Their Favourite Hobby part 3

This may or may not be very cruel, you decide once you finish reading. If it helps I have part 4 already in the works. Sorry but also not. 

Part 1

Part 2

~

By the time Villain made it out of that tunnel and back to the main building Hero and Superhero were already gone. Urgency surged through Villain’s veins, they had their phone out in seconds, dialling a number.

Two rings.

“I need a track on Hero and Superhero immediately.”

No reply on the other side but the sound of a keyboard and mouse was enough. Villain couldn’t stand waiting, they went to the car, connected the phone and took off at a dangerous speed.

“I can’t find them sir,” a voice said.

“What do you mean you can’t find them, they just left,” Villain yelled.

“They aren’t appearing anywhere. No CCTV, phone signal, mind sweep, nothing. They must have some sort of guard.”

“That is impossible. They can’t have just disappeared I was with them both ten minutes ago.”

“I am sorry sir.”

Villain growled, knuckles white against the steering wheel.

“I want a team sent out to Superhero’s house and the compound.”

“But sir that goes against-”

“I don’t care,” they yelled, “I will deal with Supervillain, send them all now.”

“You’ll deal with me hey?”

Villain just about crashed the car as Supervillain appeared in the passenger seat. They slammed on the breaks, and for a moment the car slid out of their control. Everything did. They couldn’t help Hero, couldn’t protect them from Superhero and now they can’t stop their car going into a ditch.

Well, the side of the road at least.  

Supervillain watched Villain casually, just another day in the job while Villain struggled to catch their breath, pressing their head against the steering wheel.

“Thank you, Nigel, but you can cancel that request. I will manage things from here,” Supervillain said.

“Yes sir.”

Supervillain leant over and hung the phone up before returning to their seat. They shifted themself to better face Villain, leant an elbow up by the head rest.

“So, what’s going on here?”

Villain closed their eyes, where could they even start? Their mind reeled, their mouth was full of words and yet, at the same time, empty of them. They didn’t know, not fully. All they had were snippets and ideas and feelings, and all of that wouldn’t be enough. Villain was supposed to be the one with the hard facts, the one who gets information. How could they admit they had willingly and knowingly omitted to do so with one of Superhero’s top enforcers?

In the Silence Supervillain kept talking.

“I was curious as to who would be going and activating such an old safehouse, I hadn’t even thought of the old mansion in years. I can honestly say thought I didn’t expect it to be you, and not with Hero either. That was a decent surprise.”

Villain opened their eyes and stared.

“How-”

Villain stopped themself, the cameras, of course. They sighed, resumed their original position.

“Quite the predicament you have got yourself in here. Fraternising with the enemy, getting yourself caught up with Superhero, you’ve been busy behind my back.”

“I’m not fraternising with the enemy,” Villain snapped.

“You’re right, fraternising would actually be productive, instead you’re using my resources for quirky little kidnappings that really aren’t that subtle.”

Villain scoffed, “don’t pretend you care about that, sleeping with Hero’s is basically a side hobby of yours.”

Supervillain’s brows knitted, “I haven’t slept with that many have I?”

“Enough that I knew you wouldn’t care about this,” Villain said.

“Fair,” Supervillain nodded. “My question then, is, well, I have many, but my main question is how did Superhero find you?”

Villain frowned, that was a good question.

“That place is before Superhero’s time, and I know for certain they didn’t know about it before now. So, how did they find it? And so quickly too? You and Hero were only there a couple hours at most.”

Villain stared down at their feet, their grip was a little more relaxed, mind a little more clear as Supervillain’s words shooed away the fog.

“They can’t be free…” Villain whispered.

“Pardon?”

Villain sat up.

“Superhero has a tracker on Hero.”

Supervillains brows rose, but their eyes said they were already at that step.

“Huh, that’s weird, I thought Hero was meant to be Superhero’s most trusted enforcer?”

Villain eyed Supervillain.

“What do you know?”

“Enough that you should report to your boss before deciding to go on a suicide mission against one of the most powerful people in existence.”

Villain ignore them.

“What do you know?

Supervillain sighed, “I know that things aren’t as La-de-da over there as we have been led to believe, and that Superhero goes to great measures to keep something a secret. I don’t really know what, but I know it’s bad, and it involves Hero, all the heroes in fact.”

“All of them?” Villain frowned.

Hero feels trapped, they are scared, of Superhero clearly. But if that’s the case for everyone… what does that mean? That level of fear, it has to be some degree of abuse for sure, but then why stay? And if all of them are experiencing it why not speak up about it? They are all powerful people, together they could do it surely.

And then a wild idea entered Villain’s mind, what if none of the heroes are willingly heroes?

But Hero has stood up to Villains of all calibres, the worst of the worst that even Villain couldn’t stand up to. What could Superhero be possibly doing to cause Hero of all people to be so afraid, that would keep them anywhere they didn’t want to be?

“Now that you are a bit calmer,” Supervillain said, “I need you to stay calm, no rushing off into this situation. You aren’t going to find Superhero today.”

A shot of panic went through Villain.

“What do you mean?”

Supervillain held out a hand, “I said remain calm. If Superhero doesn’t want to be found, they won’t be found. They have people whose specific job it is to hide them from all detection.”

“But-”

“I know, I heard, Hero is in trouble, I am willing to help you, but we have to wait. Superhero’s people can only keep complete guard up for a week at the most, after that it begins to falter and if we keep a fine enough net out it will pop up immediately.”

Villain turned in their seat.

“A week? That’s too long. Something is wrong, and I can feel it.”

“Villain, I know. I understand you want to protect Hero, but this is the best we can do. You will get yourself killed if you try anything today and I can’t let that happen.”

Villain shook their head.

“No, I can’t, I won’t.”

“Villain, this is an order.”

“Fuck your orders, I am not leaving Hero there for another second when I know they are in danger.”

Supervillain sighed, “I thought as much.”

In that moment Villain’s door opened and hands reached in, grabbing them. They struggled, but the hands were strong and skilled and once Villain’s arms were out of the way, a needle pierced their neck.

“I’m sorry Villain. We will get them out, I promise.”

The words began drifting away as Villain’s eyes grew heavy. The hands vanished, Villain’s head lolled to the side, seatbelt holding them up as the world faded to black.

~

A week was too long. Far, far too long. Supervillain kept Villain couped up at the compound, restricted to a very small area that remained in Supervillain’s area of awareness. They couldn’t blame Supervillain, they were right, without the appropriate supervision Villain one hundred percent would have cooked up an insane plan and headed out without a second thought. They wanted to very badly.

But they didn’t, and it felt like they were burning from the inside out. It was a unique experience. For the longest time Villain had seen Hero as a game. A fun little game that made them feel good afterwards. But at some point, the game was no longer a game and an excuse to be around Hero, because it wasn’t the game that made them feel good, it was Hero.

And now that Hero was in danger, now that they had seen how afraid Hero was, seen them cry, something else shifted inside of them. The world was a little less black and white, and now Villain saw red too.  

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Supervillain said, watching Villain from across the table.

Villain stared down at their plate of barely touched food.

“You never really get close to people,” they continued, “does anyone here other then me even know your real name?”

Villain shifted food around with their fork.

“I mean it’s perfectly fine if you are the type of person who just likes being alone, but you don’t really strike me as that type of person.

Villain shrugged.

“People just get in the way.”

Supervillain scoffed.

“I don’t believe you actually think that, if that’s the case you wouldn’t have let Hero get close, unless you are going to try and tell me romantic love is the ‘one true love that breaks through anything’,” Supervillain mocked.

Villain glanced up at them, back down at their food. Supervillain’s smile faded.

“Ok, now I am getting the sense this is a trauma thing and you don’t need to talk about it.”

Villain shrugged.

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” Supervillain asked.

An awkward glance.

“Hero,” Villain said.

“Ideally I meant a psychologist, but that’s something I guess.”

Villain shrugged again, “Hero was there with me when it happened, they understand which helps.”

Supervillain’s eyes widened. “It was recent? It wasn’t… oh… Other Villain?”

Villain nodded.

“I’m not a person who has many friends, just had one really good one.”

And Villain let them down, let them be killed painfully and slowly. It was one of the first times Hero went against what Villain thought was their nature, went out of their way to help Villain, tried to save Other Villain. Villain remembers them covered in blood, stitching up their friend, taking them to a safe house. But neither of them knew about the poison, and by the time they did it was too late. Other Villain died in Villain’s arms.

At least they got to say goodbye.

Villain put down their fork.

“I’m going for a walk,” they said, standing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring anything up,” Supervillain said.

Another shrug.

“It doesn’t matter. I just hope I don’t lose another person,” Villain couldn’t keep the bitterness out of their voice. It wasn’t Supervillain’s fault, they were doing what had to be done in this situation, but it didn’t hurt Villain any less.

Another sleepless night went by, another day. Villain lay in their bed staring up at the ceiling, hating Supervillain, hating Superhero and eventually the world in general. If the world wasn’t such a shitty place, Villain wouldn’t be a villain, Hero wouldn’t be a hero and maybe they would have never met, but at least this wouldn’t be happening. At least they wouldn’t be suffering.

Villain’s bedroom door flew open, Nigel.

“We found them.”

Villain shot up and rushed out of the room.

“Are they ok?”

“Can’t tell, but we think they are at some sort of safehouse, or at least a building Superhero went to great lengths to keep secret.”

“That seems to be a common theme lately,” Villain said.  

“Supervillain has an extraction team already ready and a second suiting up, Supervillain is waiting for you at the car.”

Villain nodded and the two split off. The moment Nigel was gone Villain took off into a run, navigating the halls of the compound until they were at the garage, Supervillain waiting.

“You need to prepare yourself for what might happen next,” Supervillain said.

“Don’t say that, they’re gonna be fine.”

“I don’t mean that, I mean for the chance of this being an ambush,” Supervillain said. “If it turns that way you are to evacuate with me immediately. I am only letting you come in the first place out of curtesy, but you are far too valuable to get captured. The information you have in your head, what they could do with your abilities, I am not going to risk that kind of compromise for anything, understand?”

Villain nodded, but neither were convinced.

“Let’s go then.”

The extraction team got into a car behind them, and the two cars took off down the road, slowly their pace only once they got off of private property.

The address wasn’t where Villain expected it to be, which perhaps worked in their favour. It was on a more remote side of the city, an old, abandoned building four storey’s tall with a basement below.

“This smells very fishy to me,” Supervillain said.

“We aren’t turning around,” Villain said.

“No, but we need to be careful.”

They parked two blocks away, the extraction team interspersing between the buildings as they approached the target. Villain and Supervillain led, Supervillain grabbing Villain’s arms as they approached a door and they both vanished.

They appeared on the other side, Supervillain on high alert but no guards stood there. Supervillain unlocked the door, let the team flood in.

“High alert everyone, the chances of an ambush are high, recognise your nearest teleporter and be ready to get out, if need be,” Supervillain said as the team walked by.

The extraction team split up, each taking a floor, three of them went down. Villain and Supervillain followed those ones.

“Now Villain, don’t go rushing in. Stay by my side, no matter what happens.”

Villain didn’t answer. This entire time, this entire week they had been fighting their own mind to remain logical, to be the calm strategic person they usually are. They hated running on impulse, being purely reactive but the fight was getting hard. When they see Hero, they don’t know what they will do.

The basement was locked, Supervillain grabbed Villain’s arm again and they vanished, appearing on the other side.

The room smelt like blood. Old and dried and rancid. An intense nausea hit Villain and if they had eaten at all today it would have come straight back up. The room was large and dark, Villain took out their phone and turned on the torch.

“Villain wait here while I unlock the door,” Supervillain said.

Villain took a few steps but forced themself to stop walking. It hurt to, but logic, they had to remember logic. The light didn’t reach a single wall around them, just a few metres along the cement floor.

And then the lights turned on.

A bright and blinding flash that seared their eyes. Villain grimaced, eyes watering, covering them in an attempt to adjust. After a moment they regained blurry vision and the blinked at a black blur hanging across the room. They didn’t need to see to know.

“Hero,” Villain breathed and rushed over.

Their vision returned and they stared at Hero’s hanging form, chains around their wrists keeping their toes just on the ground. They were covered in blood, no wounds to see but the bruises on their face and redness around their wrists.

“Hero,” Villain said, gently nudging them.  

Hero startled, jerking aware as their eyes snapped to Villain, grimacing as the chains swayed, pulling against them, rubbing their wrists.

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s me,” Villain said.

Hero started, breath easing, but they said nothing.

“I am so sorry,” Villain said, “I tried but Supervillains wouldn’t,” they stopped, took a breath. “I am going to get you down.”

Villain moved behind them to where the chains were fastened.

They undid it, easing them down as slowly as possible, Hero standing shakily the moment they could. Villain released it faster then, until everything was completely slack and quickly rushed back to Hero’s side, pulling out some lock picks.

“Why are you here,” Hero rasped.

Villain stopped, frowned.

“What do you mean why am I here? I told you I am not leaving you with them.”

Villain watched anger seep into Hero’s features.

“Has my point not already been proven? You can’t help me, and you are only making things worse by trying.”

But something seemed off, Villain didn’t see it reach their eyes.

“We can protect you, fighting superheroes and heroes is what we do.”

Hero’s hand shot out, chains rattling as their fingers wrapped around Villain’s neck so fast and sudden, they choked. Hero snarled.  

“You need to give up on this childish endeavour. I am not a damsel for you to save, and you are not a hero. You are a worthless villain, and I am done with this game of yours.”

“Hero-”

Villain’s words were cut off as Hero squeezed tighter and tighter.

“I was never interested in you,” Hero said, “how could I? You are nothing and I am a hero, we are opposites.”

Villain’s vision was fading, black dots dancing, their face changing colours.

“I hate you,” Hero said.

Villain’s neck snapped and the world vanished.  

~

Let me know if the tags work cos I still can’t tell

@hollowgast1

@leafamaranth

@pigeonwhumps

@laffy-taffy-creations

@paintedpigeon1

@empathyraven

@enigmawritesstuff

@psychiclibrariesquotestoad

@thedeepvoidinmyheart

@painless-and-colourful