#lets just ignore the spelling of Cas

[spnwin1967]

One Year Gone

[imsandra]

The Great War

Pairing: Lucien x Female Reader

Summary: If they survive the great war, will they dare to love each other?

Warning: Angst, tension, death, but nothing graphic. I think that's all, let me know if something is missing.

Word count: 3625

Notes: I hope you enjoy this story about our favorite redhead. As always, feel free to leave your comments, suggestions, everything is welcome as long as it is respectful and with the aim to teach.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

This is an original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my work.

I appreciate any comments, reblogs, and likes I receive.

Happy reading!

Master list

“Elain, where is Lucien?” Y/N asked, gasping.

Things had gone wrong; the war was unfolding too close to both women, and their friend had disappeared.

“I don’t know,” she replied, in shock.

Elain had killed the king of Hybern; she still held the Truth-Telling in her delicate, blood-covered hands. She had been very brave to plunge the dagger into his heart. So she thought her favorite redhead would be with her.

The Illyrian scanned the battlefield, straining her vision as much as she could, trying to distinguish among all the heads that made up the war legion led by Cassian.

But that red spark was not among them.

A sense of panic began to engulf her body; her fingers started to go numb, and her breathing quickened.

She heard footsteps approaching, crunching the fallen leaves that covered the forest; she turned too quickly when the noise reached her ears, but disappointment crossed her eyes.

It wasn’t Lucien; it was Nesta.

“Have you seen Lucien?” she asked again, hopefully.

Nesta arrived beside Elain, checking on how her sister was doing.

“No,” she replied coldly. “The last time I saw him, he arrived with the ships. He’s probably among the dead,” she added. She only cared about the well-being of sweet, delicate Elain—only her and her own.

Hearing that, with the breath she had left, she dashed into the center of the battle, praying to the gods that the harsh words of the older Archeron wouldn’t come true.

With her sword in hand and senses alert, she ran and ran, shouting the redhead’s name.

“Lucien! Lucien!” she cried desperately over and over; a knot was beginning to form in her throat.

She killed the enemies who crossed her path, stabbing and pulling the sword out of each body and its clothes, getting more and more covered in blood.

One blow, then two, the steel ringing in her ears. And there was no sign of the fox.

Fatigue was beginning to take over her body, her heart racing. A few meters away, she saw the body of the general, exhausted like everyone around him.

“Cas… Cassian!” she shouted with a hoarse voice.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” he said, surprised to see the healer in such a dangerous place. “Are you crazy?” he yelled, frightened upon seeing her tunic stained with red liquid and the sword in the same state. “You could’ve been killed. You need to go back with the others. This place isn’t safe, and where did you find that?”

“Have you seen Lucien?” she whispered, exhausted, ignoring everything her brother had said.

“Did you hear what I said? You’re going to get a sword through your heart; go back to the healers’ camp right now,” the warrior ordered.

Just then, a man appeared behind the Illyrian, trying to kill him. And as if she were the wind itself, she moved as quickly as the desperation coursing through her veins. With the agility of a hawk, she cut off his head, and the general could only watch in shock.

While her sister had been training for years, he never thought she would possess such skill, let alone put it to the test.

Until now.

“Damn!” he whispered softly to himself. “Who taught you that?” he asked, curious and a touch proud.

“Tell me if you’ve seen Lucien Vanserra,” she insisted to her brother.

“The last time I saw him, he was near the other side of the forest, with Vassa,” he informed her, sweat and dirt covering his face. “And have you seen Azriel?” he questioned.

“I thought he was with you,” she replied.

Now two males were missing.

“Great, we’ll have to search for them among all the bodies,” he said, exhaling and praying not to find them among the lifeless limbs.

Both headed toward the place where they last saw Lucien, hoping to find the Shadow Singer with him.

The line between saving and killing began to blur as the battle continued.

The two moved quickly through the chaos, the sound of clashing swords and screams filling the air. Her heart raced, her eyes frantically scanning the battlefield for any trace of the fox or the Shadow Singer.

In the distance, they saw a red flash among the tangle of warriors, and Y/N immediately recognized Lucien's unmistakable hair.

He stood fighting with a ferocity she had never seen in him before. His movements were precise, lethal, and his skill with the sword was evident as he took down one enemy after another.

The healer felt a mix of relief and awe. She had run through the battlefield, convinced that the redhead was injured or worse. But seeing him in action, fighting with such skill, ignited a new spark of hope within her.

However, not everything was in his favor. Despite his prowess, he was surrounded, outnumbered by several enemy soldiers.

Y/N and Cassian exchanged a quick glance, knowing they had to intervene.

“Cassian, to the left!” she shouted as she charged toward the enemy's right flank, her sword gleaming in the air.

The warrior nodded and moved with the speed of a predator to the other side, attacking the soldiers surrounding Lucien. She arrived just in time to block a strike that would have injured her friend.

Lucien cast her a quick look of acknowledgment, a spark of gratitude in his eyes, but there was no time for words. Together, the three of them fought, forming a small but impenetrable barrier against the enemies.

After a series of deadly blows, the enemies began to retreat, leaving them standing, breathing heavily amid the chaos. The fox lowered his sword, his face covered in sweat and dirt but unscathed.

“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse from exertion.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and anger.

“I was about to lose my mind looking for you!” she exclaimed, though the relief in her voice was undeniable.

Lucien felt the tension in his battle-worn muscles ease at her words.

He took a step closer, closing the space between them, and wrapped her in a firm, swift embrace filled with intensity. It wasn’t the gesture of a friend or someone merely grateful. It was something deeper, something that had been silent for too long.

When they pulled apart, his hands lingered on her waist for a second longer, as if he didn’t want to let her go so quickly.

Cassian also chimed in, a crooked smile on his face.

“Well, now that the fox is safe, has anyone seen Azriel?”

The general had already begun scanning the area, as if expecting to spot his winged brother in some corner of the battlefield.

“He can’t be far,” he murmured, a mix of hope and urgency in his voice.

Lucien was alert too, his gaze focused on the chaos around them.

“The last time I saw him, he was facing a group of soldiers near the river,” he added, wiping the blood from his sword into the fabric of his pants.

They barely had time to recover before the weight of worry for Azriel hit them again.

Without a second thought, Y/N began to move in that direction, her heart pounding in her ears. The ground was littered with bodies, both allies and enemies alike, making every step more difficult.

The sounds of combat still echoed; as they approached the area Lucien had mentioned, they found remnants of a fierce battle. The marks on the ground and the fallen bodies made it clear that a strong fight had taken place there.

Then, Y/N spotted one of the daggers from the Master of Spies, embedded in a soldier’s chest.

“This is Az’s,” she announced softly, picking up the bloodied weapon.

The two males quickly moved closer. The trail of blood continued, leading toward the thick underbrush near the river. They began to follow it, their hearts filled with fear for what they might find.

Among the trees, she distinguished a fallen figure among the branches and leaves.

“Azriel!” she shouted, running toward him.

The Illyrian lay on the ground, his wings spread out with a deep wound in his side. His breathing was irregular, but he was conscious. Around him, several fallen bodies indicated that he had fought to his last breath.

With evident effort, he tried to sit up upon seeing his friend approach.

“No… I’m…” he tried to say, his voice barely a whisper.

The healer fell to her knees beside him, her trembling hands assessing the severity of the wound. Lucien and Cassian arrived a moment later, watching with concern.

“Stay with us,” she murmured, trying to contain the wave of relief she felt at finding him alive.

“Y/N,” Cassian interjected, looking around, alert for more enemies.

She began to work immediately at the urgency in her brother’s voice. Her healing magic started to flow from her hands into Azriel’s body, but it wasn’t easy. The wound was deep, and while the magic could stop the bleeding, the Shadow Singer needed more time to heal completely.

Azriel looked at her with those eyes full of gratitude, though he could barely speak.

“It’s… nothing. Just… another wound,” he said with a weak smile.

Cassian and Lucien had kept watch around them, protecting them while Y/N worked. At that moment, there was only one thing on her mind: keeping Azriel alive.

“He’s stable,” she announced, her hands stained with her friend’s blood. “We need to move; we can’t stay here any longer.”

Lucien stepped closer to Y/N and helped her up. Meanwhile, Cassian moved closer to his brother.

“You did well,” he whispered to her.

She relaxed her shoulders, if only for a moment. Her body was growing weary. They needed to reach the healer camp soon.

He prepared to help the general move the Master of Spies. The four of them headed toward the camp.

Along the way, they dispatched more soldiers, the three of them taking turns to protect Azriel. The war lord had his brother’s arm around his neck, while his sister and the male who would soon become his brother-in-law— or so he hoped—fought against every enemy. The two moved in perfect sync, a well-executed dance.

They were only a few meters away; soon they stopped when the sound of clashing steel and the cries of the wounded began to fade.

The echo of war drums, which had resonated loudly across the battlefield, slowly quieted into a distant murmur.

In the distance, the remaining enemy forces retreated. Victory was theirs, but there was no celebration on the faces of the survivors, only exhaustion and pain. The silence that followed was deafening.

After so many hours of chaos, the calm felt surreal.

Cassian, still breathing heavily, raised his sword in a sign of triumph, though his eyes filled with sadness at the sight of his army's losses. The remaining Illyrian warriors raised their fists in the air.

The end had come, but at a cost that would resonate within them for a long time.

Y/N looked around, searching for her friends. In the distance, she saw Feyre embracing Rhysand; her gaze located Mor not far away, Amren, and the rest of the High Lords.

“It’s over,” she murmured, almost in disbelief. The words felt strange on her lips, as if the idea of peace were foreign after so long of fighting.

“Yes, we did it,” Cassian said, his voice deep but tinged with relief. However, there was no smile on his face, only a glance toward the fallen, those who would not see the end of the war.

The air smelled of ash and blood. The rays of the sun began to break over the horizon, bathing the battlefield in a golden light, as if the world wanted to forget the darkness it had just witnessed.

With one last look at the field, the general gestured to the few remaining warriors, ordering them to return to camp.

The group began to walk back as well, helping Azriel to stay upright.

The three entered the tent that the Master of Spies occupied; Cassian carefully placed Azriel on the makeshift bed.

The healer searched for some water to bring down his fever. The effort her friend had put forth during the journey was taking its toll on his body. She placed a cloth on his forehead and let him rest.

“I’ll go attend to the other wounded,” she told the general, leaving some tea on the table. “When he wakes up, make sure he drinks it. I’ll be nearby.”

“Your father would be proud of you,” he suddenly said, his gaze fixed on his brother’s body.

Her heart began to race. It had been a long time since anyone had mentioned her father. Her father, who had given his life for her; she couldn’t remember anything about him. He had left centuries ago.

Lucien felt the tension in the air, so he quietly slipped out of the tent.

“And Mom would be proud of you,” he replied; her eyes met her brother’s.

Cassian approached her and wrapped his arms around her. His heart raced with fear at having seen Y/N with a sword in hand and blood staining her clothes. He hugged her tighter, and she returned his affection.

“Next time, let me know you’ll be with us. I almost went to the Mother when I saw you running to your lover. Very romantic,” he whispered in her ear, his voice breaking, and kissed her forehead.

No matter what, she was his little sister. The one he had watched grow up and had tucked in a few times; he would always protect her.

Her cheeks flushed; she was sure he would never stop teasing her about it.

“Enough! I have to go; take care of Az.” A smile spread across her face.

The general only chuckled, a low laugh. A sign that things would get better soon.

Lucien had settled under a tree near the camp where Y/N was working. He watched her move skillfully among the bodies, just as she had on the battlefield. He hadn’t seen her wield a weapon in years.

And when he saw her saving a life, his mind flooded with the first time he met her; she had pointed a dagger at his throat, and today, she had thrust a sword into someone else's throat.

For him.

The fact that she, so strong and brave, had traversed the chaos of the battlefield with him in mind left him momentarily bewildered. A mix of warmth and vulnerability settled in his chest.

It was different from what he had felt with Elain. With her, there was an inevitable, mystical connection dictated by the bond. But this, what he shared with Y/N, felt real. Human.

It wasn't based on ancient magic or a predestined tie, but on something more tangible, more painfully beautiful. For a moment, he wondered if he deserved that concern, but seeing her face, he knew it didn’t matter.

She had done it. And that changed everything.

The female smiled at him from afar. He could see her eyes shining with adoration when he returned the gesture.

His heart raced with the intensity of an electric jolt; he felt his cheeks heat up, and his soul flooded with warmth as she approached. For the first time in his life, he felt very nervous. The palms of his hands began to sweat, and his breath quickened; that was the effect she had on him.

“How are you?” she asked; he didn’t know what to say. Lucien’s mind was occupied memorizing her face—her eyes, her lips, the shape of her nose, every detail he could absorb from her.

“I’m fine,” she said, laughing at seeing her redhead distracted.

No one could lie to Lucien Vanserra; he could see through her that she was tired, exhausted. Even though she smiled, he knew her perfectly.

The redhead stepped closer and embraced her. Y/N leaned against his toned body and sighed. They both needed that, to be in each other’s arms.

He held her while stroking her back slowly and soothingly. He inhaled her scent. Despite the blood, mud, and sweat, Lucien felt at home.

He had grown accustomed to being the outcast, and he had finally found his home.

She was his home.

She always had been, and it was time to accept it.

With a gentle motion, he pulled her away from his body; he held her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks.

She focused her gaze on Lucien's eyes, a beautiful golden color and another mechanical reddish hue, so lovely. In her eyes, he had always been beautiful; she could spend hours admiring his beauty. Perhaps a whole lifetime if they were allowed.

But maybe that would never happen. The mere thought made her chest ache.

Lucien kissed her forehead, and instinctively she closed her eyes. The redhead moved and leaned against the tree, making space between his legs and gesturing for her to sit. Y/N's back met Lucien's warm chest, and a sigh escaped her lips.

Their breaths intertwined as he pulled her closer with his strong arms.

“One of the wounded didn’t make it,” she whispered, his voice breaking, “and his wife will be waiting for him to come home…”

The dam broke, and the weight of guilt settled in the air. Tears flowed freely, and Lucien wiped each one away, holding her close and sharing her pain; his Y/N had been so brave. And he could never blame her for that.

“You did the best you could,” he murmured, kissing the crown of her head. “My beautiful and brave Y/N.”

She turned; her gaze roamed his face, and she could see his eyes shining with deep affection. Y/N leaned in, their foreheads touching, debating whether to cross the line.

Lucien placed his hand on the woman’s neck, tangling his fingers in her silky hair. Closer and closer, their lips brushed together, and he couldn’t resist any longer. He gently drew her in, giving her the chance to pull away; but she closed the space, and their lips met in a kiss filled with all the affection they held.

They separated, breathing heavily.

Lucien kissed her nose, and she embraced him, burying her head in his neck.

“I would run into every necessary war just to be in your arms,” her voice muffled against the redhead’s shirt. “I will always find you.”

The redhead's heart stopped for a second upon hearing those words. He felt the intensity of the moment, the warmth of the healer's body enveloping him like the only thing keeping him standing after the battle.

He slowly released the embrace; but without stepping away, their chests were still pressed together. He gently stroked her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. He softly traced the base of her neck until his hand rested on her cheek.

He looked at her, and the world made sense again.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said quietly, his gaze deep and warm. “I don’t know how to make grand promises or beautiful speeches, but… Every time I close my eyes, it’s your face I see. Every time I think about what I want… it’s always to be with you.”

He paused for a moment, as if the words were a weight he had finally decided to bear.

“You’re the reason I keep going,” he added, his voice soft yet firm. “And I don’t care if the world changes or if everything collapses around us. My heart will always find its way back to you.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened. She felt the heat of his body, the way his words wrapped around her like a dangerous promise, impossible to ignore. Lucien's eyes, the golden and the metallic, looked at her with an intensity that made her hold her breath.

“But… Elain. She’s your mate,” she interjected.

“She’ll be fine.”

He knew that Elain and Azriel spent too much time together, and she would be okay in the arms of the Master of Spies.

“And you, will you be okay?” she asked curiously, wishing for him to stay with her.

Lucien chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the woman’s chest.

“My soul is right where it wants to be, by your side, darling,” he said. He gently drew her in, and their lips met in a sweet kiss.

In the air vibrated a promise: together, they would face every battle to come. They would make the world burn for each other to be together again.

At the entrance of Azriel's tent, the general saw how two of the most important people in his life were with the ones they belonged to. 

The seer was stroking Azriel's hair, and the fox was smiling at Y/N as if she brought forth the sun each morning.

The sunset gave way to night, and Cassian knew that tomorrow would be a better day.

*divider by @tsunami-of-tears , thank you <33

A/N: A/N: It took me a while to write this one shot, it may not even be perfect and it may have some spelling mistakes, but I didn't want to waste any more time lol. You can always tell me what you think about this. I hope you liked it. I love you guys.

[rainystarshower]

Helloo, can I request priest! Dan Feng x fem! Demon reader? Where Dan Feng is devoted to his God but ends up being in love towards reader, a demon. But he would never admit his true feelings and was in denial, and that denial led him to go the church to ask for forgiveness from his God like "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned" and just blamed reader for making him fall in love, thinking she puts a spell on him or something. He was concentrating but then reader shows up behind him to annoy him as usual (you can come up with the scenario yourself, but if you can, please make reader have a teasing/flirting side since she's a demon)

‘Lovely Sinner’

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chara : Dan Feng

cw : fluff, preist!dan feng, demon!fem reader, mentions of HCQ, modern-ish AU?, mentions of make-up, incorrect displays of Christianity (I’m Muslim lol...), ooohhh a flirtatious reader hehehehehe... Possible OOC with the lovely Dan Feng

a/n : HCQ MENTIONED EVERYBODY STAY CALM... I had 0 expectations when I started this, I HEAVILY doubted myself so try to bear with me here......... Also sorry that this is late!! Been losing motivation recently...

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈✩┈┈┈┈┈𝄞

‘That’s wrong.’ Dan Feng, laying on his bed, thought to himself. Over and over again, thinking about how wrong it is... How wrong it is, that — he, Dan Feng, a priest, has fallen in love with a demon? A demon of all creatures?! He’s a priest, a well respected one at that! You just appeared in his life out of nowhere, and decided to cling yourself onto Dan Feng. For what? He did nothing to deserve it — right?!

Oh but how his heart fluttered everytime he had thought about you. He was in denial, for so, sooooooo long! Now he’s here, laying in his bed as his heart almost leaps out of his throat at the constant thought of holding you! It drives him insane!!

“That’s it. It must��ve been a spell!” He says, getting up from his bed with determination. He needs to go to church, he needs to pray and ask his father above for forgiveness. That was the only logical explanation Dan Feng could think of — of course you casted a spell on him! Surely if he asks God for forgiveness, the spell will be lifted — no?

...

“Heading to church?” Yingxing asked, watching as Dan Feng was heading out. “Yes, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” His voice shaked. He couldn’t let anybody know about his greatest sin. No, not at all. After all, being in love with a demon is a far more grave sin than any other.

“Dan Feng!” You call out to him as he’s about to pray. He decides to ignore you, not even attempting to bat an eye towards you. Which, agitates you, so you call out again. Again, he ignores. He’s too focused on his prayer. He has to ask his father in heaven for forgiveness! He must!

So you stand in front of him, looking directly at his face and interrupt his prayer by slightly pushing him to the side. “You interrupted my prayer.” He scowls at you. You merely scoff in response. “Well, you were ignoring me and my good looks! I had to do something about it.” Your tail peeked out, wagging a little in joy he finally placed some attention to you. Dan Feng caught notice of your tail, and felt a bit flushed. ‘How adorable’ He thought.

And there, oh how the realization hit... You? Adorable? Blasphemy! You’re a demon! Dan Feng is devoted to his God, finding a demon such as yourself adorable is a sin, a tremendous one!

You caught him, a bit flushed, to which you took the opportunity to tease him for it. “Oh? Am I really that irresistible that you can’t help but blush?” You lean closer to him, smirk on your face, his breathing subconsciously stopping. “No, not at all. You never will be.” He refuted. What a blant lie...

You chuckle, causing his heart to skip a beat. “You and your blasted spell...” he mutters under his breath, inescapable to your ears. “Spell? What spell?” You sat yourself besides him, leaning a bit back, using your hands for support.

He stares at you, a bit perplexed. “The spell you casted on me... The one that makes my heart yearn for you.” Yearn for you? This was the first you’ve heard of this... “you’re a demon. You’re capable of such things! You caused my fantasies!” he tried defending himself.

“a spell...? Fantasies...???” you ponder to yourself. Your mind concentrated on wondering ‘what the hell is this guy talking about...?’ he stares at you in anticipation, hoping you would realize and undo whatever spell you casted upon him.

“explain your symptoms — fantasies in more detail.” you ask. In response, he obliges and starts to talk about his symptoms. The symptoms of where he wants to run his fingers through your hair, watch you put on make-up and occasionally help you, hold you as you drift off to sleep in his arms, let you do his hair in whatever style you want — all of it.

You could feel your heart thumping more and more as he continued talking about his ‘symptoms and fantasies’. Your train of thoughts was running wild, until he broke it with one simple sentence. “the spell that caused me to fall in love with you.” he admitted, looking you directly in the eyes which the moonlight was reflecting on. Hell, he looked so pretty...

You forget to speak. Dan Feng, looking down, thinks to himself. Just as you’re about to say something, he cuts it off with a quick kiss. He’s fallen in love, he can’t deny it. “It’s not a spell, is it?” Dan Feng asks you, pulling you closer to him, watching your face slightly blush before you let a grin break free. “Nope, you’re just a dummy in love” you tease. Instead of him getting upset, he grins back — kissing you once again in the church, moonlight falling upon the two of you. “Gorgeous woman, you are, aren’t you?” he surprisingly teases back. Your response being: “a thousand men could die to have me”

———————————

His grin, unfaltering as he kisses your cheek. “yet I am that one alive man, which managed to have you”

HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS THAT?????????????????????????????

[scoobydoodean]

sorry, i'm genuinely confused by your s6 deancas conflict take. i don't think either is the bad guy but i think cas was doing what he could with what he had. i don't think he was in the wrong but i'm curious to know what you think he could've done to be in the right? be honest and upfront? that would jeopardize his mission and put him on the outs with dean. sure, that happened anyway but he did stop raphael

i've also always been confused by dean's "i was here where were you?" because was he though? when they did find out, they punished him and cut him off instead of idk, strategizing with cas. it was a lose/lose situation for cas from the get-go starting with his decision not to involve dean as much as he could help it because cas did care about him. if the issue was working with crowley, cas ended up double-crossing him anyway. if the issue was being dishonest, well, that's nothing new among the winchesters

anyway, i don't have a favorite between deancas because i could never pick but in s6 i very much sympathized with cas so again, i guess i'm curious what you think he could've done differently. i hope this ask doesn't annoy you too much

Let's separate this into two pieces. 1) What I actually said (i.e. the disk horse I was addressing) 2) The utility of Cas's plan to pop Purgatory.

First, what did I say today based partly on a post I made yesterday?

It’s not remotely hard to see that Cas repeatedly uses Dean without his knowledge throughout the season. But you’d think based on how 90% of destiel shippers talk that Cas was waiting on Dean hand and foot while having his own needs ignored by a callous asshole. That’s literally the story people try to tell you while Cas uses Dean for everything from spells to forced labor to a meat shield for Raphael and Virgil while only showing up when Sam and Dean having a lead on an angel weapon is mentioned. They just erase Cas’s problems in order to misrepresent and reduce Dean down to a mean friend who doesn’t deserve him.

I'm wasn't talking about the plan to pop Purgatory and the conflict that happens over it in 6.20 (we can address that in a moment). I'm talking about how a large chunk of destiel fandom erroneously argues that season 6 Dean is a bad friend throughout the entire season who only cared about Cas being useful to him, when Cas is the one who spends the entire season using Dean without his knowledge. You want to have a conversation about something slightly different, which is fine, but don't conflate two common streams of disk horse about separate things. They have some overlap yes—but don't get it twisted.

What could Cas have done differently?

Cas could have asked to use Dean's blood for a spell instead of yanking his wrist over and cutting his palm open for blood without a word, but instead, he did it without asking (and that small act sets the stage for how Cas treats Dean the entire season). Cas could have asked if Sam and Dean would look for leads for him on angelic weapons. He could have asked them if they would look for leads on Purgatory instead of secretly cosigning Crowley coercing them into forced labor capturing alphas. He could have asked them if they would keep Raphael and Virgil off his tail long enough for him and Balthazar to collect their weapons. Instead, Cas used them without their permission or knowledge. All Dean asks in these moments is to be told that Cas needs his help instead of being used without permission.

You seem certain that giving Sam and Dean any information would have "jeopardized his mission"... but how? Setting aside the actual utility of Cas's plan to pop Purgatory for now, Cas actually could have communicated what he needed in every single one of these situations without revealing his plan to pop Purgatory. In fact, that's exactly what he did with Balthazar, isn't it? But again—we're talking about two slightly different things here. EYE was talking about whether or not it's true that Dean was a mean and bad friend who didn't care that Cas needed help and never offered him assistance while Cas moped like a wet cat, back aching from bending over backwards to help Dean with *looks at notes* something. EYE pointed out that Cas absolutely did not fail to make Dean useful to him. He just didn't bother to tell Dean he was doing it. YOU are talking about whether or not the Cas's plan to pop Purgatory was the only viable solution to the Raphael problem and whether Dean should have supported Cas despite everything when the plot was revealed in 6.20. Again—this is a separate (though somewhat interrelated) discourse.

Despite all the crying about Bad Friend Dean, it was Cas who showed through his behavior throughout the season that he would rather treat Dean as a pawn than as a friend. Cas coerces and lies instead of just asking his friend for help. Forgive me if I'm not going to coddle him over it. If you've been in this fandom for a single moment, you know that the fanon fantasy of Dean being a horrible bad mean friend with a angelic guardian waiting on him hand and foot starts long before 6.20 when Dean rejects the finally revealed plan to pop Purgatory, and the whitewashing of Cas's actions and outright denial of Cas using Sam and Dean also starts long before then. So lets not move goal posts. I'm asking people to stop ignoring and misrepresenting every single thing that happened between Dean and Cas leading up to 6.20. I'm asking people to stop assigning all of those things only selective importance (i.e., they're only important when Dean was the "bad friend", but when Cas was, it didn't matter/didn't happen).

Now let's talk about "the plan to pop Purgatory" briefly and the utility of that plan and whether Dean not jumping to help Cas swallow every soul in Purgatory makes him a bad and mean and terrible friend. Multiple people in Cas's life tried to tell him his plans would backfire, and he didn't listen. He ended up starting an apocalypse which was the very thing he was trying to prevent. He just traded out Raphael for the Leviathan and made no meaningful progress toward an actual improvement in terms of "threats to the world as we know it". How exactly did he make anyone better off?

For some reason, some people insist on arguing that while it did backfire spectacularly, it was "the only option" to dispense with Raphael and "there was no other choice", but nobody saying that actually knows that. In fact from a meta/lore perspective, this is just... outright wrong. Archangels have been dealt with in any number of other ways over the course of the show. The Cage. A weird ass egg. The archangel sword. Spellwork. You can invent whatever goddamn lore you want. You cannot reasonably argue it was "the only option" when archangels repeatedly show up and are dispensed with in a variety of ways that aren't "swallowing all the souls in purgatory, going insane, declaring yourself god, and starting a new apocalypse so we're right back where we started".

The only reason "popping Purgatory" is the only plan we get in season 6 is that it's the only plan that Cas allows to be made. He refuses to so much as consider the possibility of anything else because he's so deeply caught in sunk cost fallacy. When Sam and Dean and Bobby finally learn what he's up to and disagree with his plan, Cas breaks Sam' brain to keep them out of his way. When Balthazar disagrees with his plan, Cas murders him.

i've also always been confused by dean's "i was here where were you?" because was he though? when they did find out, they punished him and cut him off instead of idk, strategizing with cas.

...No? It was the other way around.

6.20

Dean tried to get info on what was going on with Cas from 6.03 when he learned about the angelic war onward, and Cas would give vague answers then fly off. In 6.10, Dean asked if there was anything he and Sam could do and Cas said there wasn't. When he found out about Cas working with Crowley, Dean asked to brainstorm a new solution and work as a team and Cas refused to consider this for a single moment. He insisted nothing about his plan was broken despite multiple people warning him, and his own secret-keeping suggested his own conflicted feelings.

[maarrgarr]

The Unknown Heir

part two

masterlist of the Unknown Heir

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warnings: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, murder, blood, some plot changes.

@mor-pheus @staygoldsquatchling02

Ryusei was possibly the most beautiful and peaceful baby you knew. He seemed to be quite intelligent and, luckily, he fit in with your sleeping hours: when you went to sleep, he went to sleep and when you woke up, he woke up. But, he was quite hungry, like his father. He would latch on to your breast and seemed to be able to stay that way for hours, in that way he also resembled Satoru.

When he was about to turn one year old, someone you didn't like visited you, your father. You remembered opening the door of your home, after the bell had been rung insistently, and feeling a shudder to see one of the people you hated the most standing there with a smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him bitterly, he sighed in disappointment and replied "You're still just as disrespectful. I came to see my supposed heiress, although I could already consider you a clan deserter." He tried to pass your house, but you stood in front of him, "No one gave you permission to pass" was what you told him, but he just clicked his tongue, pushed you away and entered anyway. "I was quite surprised when one day your boyfriend went to the clan residence and almost wiped everyone out, just because he thought we had done something to you. I felt a little sorry for him, it seems he really thought you would be unable to run away, he didn't know you very well" you knew that what he was saying to you was meant to hurt you and he was succeeding.

For a moment, your father stood still like a statue and asked "who else is here?", you got nervous but tried to hide it "no one" you lied. A few meters away, resting on his crib after eating, was Ryusei. But, to your misfortune, the leader of the Mochizuki clan, had never been an easy man to fool, so he started walking in the direction of your son's room, but you didn't plan to let him meet him. You grabbed his arm to stop him, "I told you there is no one" your father abruptly let go of your grip and unexpectedly slapped you, "don't touch me, you are a disgrace, that instead of taking advantage of her power, she decided to flee. You are just like your mother and you disgust me".

Oh your poor mother, a victim of the clan, who had died days after giving birth to you, but not because of something in childbirth, your family had killed her. She had already fulfilled her mission of bringing the future heiress into the world, they no longer needed her and therefore she was of no use to them. That's how easy it was to get rid of people in your clan.

When you realized it, he was already in front of your baby's cradle. He was still, anodized, watching his grandson and after a while he reacted and laughed bitterly "this is really interesting" he said "so you had a son with Gojo" "Get away from him" you ordered him, he ignored your order and lifted the little one, Ryusei opened his eyes when he felt the movement, but he didn't cry, he just stared at his grandfather. Your father looked at you "you finally did something right" he said with a smile from ear to ear, "I won't let you take him away" you said.

You knew what they were capable of, when they saw someone with potential they exploited it, that's what they did with you. And while that had made you a great sorceress, it wasn't what you wanted for your son.

"Why not? This child is the union of two powerful clans, in the future he will be the best of all, therefore he has to be trained by someone at his level and that someone is me" he answered you sure of himself. "The only one capable of training my son is his own father or me, no one else. Besides, as you can see, he has nothing of Mochizuki, he is a Gojo from head to toe" you said while you snatched him from his arms, and hugged him protectively. "Don't make me laugh, I doubt Gojo Satoru wants to train his bastard! You know he won't accept it, because who would want to have a child with you? You are a disaster and you will also be a disaster as a mother, and that's why your child will also be a disaster and-" you didn't remember very well what happened, only that you felt a great fury run through you, and as your father's voice stopped and out of nowhere his body was lying on the floor, his head seemed to have exploded, the blood had stained you and your baby and he began to cry.

You had killed your father.

When you reacted to what you had done, the first thing you did was to clean Ryusei, who couldn't stop crying when he felt your nervousness, and luckily you managed to calm him down a little. Then you cleaned yourself and called Emma, a friend you had made who lived near you. You asked her if Ryusei could stay with her that night, while you resolved a small altercation you had had. Well, if you could call "small" having murdered your father.

After leaving your son with her, you returned home to dispose of the body. You took it to an open field on the outskirts of the city, made sure there was no one around, threw gasoline on it and burned it. You stayed there for a long time, waiting for it to burn and when it finally did, you went back home to finish cleaning up.

You were in a state of shock for what you had done, that's why you decided that your son would stay with Emma, you wanted to be stable for him.

Your father had been a son of a bitch all his life, but you had never considered killing him and of course you didn't plan to. Your damned energy had gotten out of control for the first and only time. You were obviously sorry, but only for doing it in front of your son. Your father never loved you and you never loved him either, so you felt no pain for his loss.

You considered calling Ieiri, but you didn't want to involve her, so you didn't tell anyone and probably never would.

You would take this secret to your grave.

[lenawritesfandom]

Silver Springs {Adam x f reader}

fandom: hazbin hotel shipping: adam x female reader warnings: swearing, suggestive scenes, cheating, minors dni summary: you're part of the band and adam breaks your heart word count: 596 a/n: this song and scenario has been stuck in my head forever now. i know this is short but i hope you enjoy nonetheless.

{You could be my silver spring Blue-green colors flashin' I would be your only dream Your shinin' autumn ocean crashin' Don't say that she's pretty And did you say that she loved you? Baby, I don't want to know} You were a back up singer in Adam's band. You've been told that you were only there because Adam wanted to fuck you and that was it. Which was why for the longest time you tried to ignore his advances but he was quite persuasive. The man was funny, he knew how to make you laugh, cry, and bring you out of your shell. At first you'd only spend time with him during band practice or the moments the band would just party and hang out. He eventually got you to agree to go out on a real date with him. Everything seemed to be going good and you finally started to become vulnerable with him.

{So I'll begin not to love you Turn around, see me runnin' I'll say I loved you years ago Tell myself you never loved me, no Don't say that she's pretty And did you say that she loved you? Baby, I don't want to know Oh no And can you tell me was it worth it? Baby, I don't want to know} You and Adam moved in with each other after 6 months of dating. You figured it could be fun, and a great way to grow your relationship stronger, right? Everything was perfect. His kisses against your lips or the crook of your neck. The way his hand slid down your body and the way he had a trick with his fingers and tongue that brought you to the sense of Euphoria as you cried out his name. {Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could have loved you But you would not let me Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you}

One day you go out with one of your friends. A fellow winner just as you. You told him you'd be out all day and you were going to. You and your friend spent all morning walking around shops. You saw a cool leather jacket you thought Adam would have enjoyed wearing during a concert but you realized you forgot your wallet at home. "I will be back, I'm just going to run home and grab my wallet." Your friend offered to pay for it and you just pay her back but you told her you'd rather use your own money. So, you left and would later wonder if you'd rather have just paid her back. Stay in ignorance bliss with Adam. When you returned home you heard two voices moaning from down the hall. Your heart dropped. No, he wouldn't... You opened the door and saw your rose colored glasses shatter into a million pieces. You were just another one of Adam's playthings. He promised you that you weren't but here lies the truth. If he loved you, he wouldn't have cheated. {Was I such a fool? I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice} So you left him and the band. Your heart couldn't take being around him. All you pictured was the way he touched that woman the same way he used to touch you. Adam would send roses and try to corner you so you could listen to his pathetic excuses. Every single time it hurt turning him away. He stopped sending you roses, and reaching out. That made the pain of confrontation easier but caused another. The relationship was over. Whenever you both saw each other whether that be through mutual friends or in public you saw the discomfort on his face that you could tell that your presence haunted him because he really did love you. Good.... Because you loved him too...

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Brother's Keeper: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, feeling broken and utterly helpless to the point of depression

Summary: The repercussions of every bad thing you did while being soulless hit you like a freight train at full speed. There are no words that can describe how broken you feel. Sam and Dean manage to break the spell and lift the curse but what did you let out in return?

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

You wake up to Dean tightening the leather straps to your arms. You roll your head to the side and see yourself in the dungeon of the Bunker. Sam and Cas are on the other side of the room whispering to each other, ignoring you for now. You'd use magic to get out of this but your head still feels like it's splitting. To even think about magic gives you the biggest headache, but you think that's Dean's plan. You look at Dean with a deadly glare just as he tightens the other strap to your arm. Your legs are tied to the legs of the chair so you can't move an inch.

"Stare at me all you want but this is happening."

He drops the chains and walks over to Sam who steps closer to you. He aims the sonic gun at you and sends another wave of unbearing pain at you. You cry out in pain, unable to do anything but take it. When he stops you're tired but you just start laughing at how pathetic each of them are.

"Why are you laughing?" Dean asks.

"No reason but you better hope this is gonna work."

"This will work," Cas says.

"For your sake," you shrug, "I hope it does."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

"Dean, don't listen to her. She's only saying this to get under your skin," Sam says.

Dean puts a hand up to silence him while looking at you. 

"What do you mean?"

You shift in your chair and sit up straighter if it's possible.

"You have no idea if this will work. You're out of your league here. Putting my soul back into my body might not go the way you want it to. I'm pretty powerful and the Mark is stronger than ever. It might taint that pretty white soul you got inside of you."

Dean looks at Cas with uncertainty in his eyes.

"It's going to work," Cas assures him.

"You better hope it does because if it doesn't," you pause for dramatic effect, "not only will I kill all three of you, I will kill everyone I see until I get my hands on those kids, and I'll kill them, too."

Dean looks weary but he's going through with this in the hope that this works and you're back to normal. He sits down on the chair next to you and nods to Sam who takes off his belt. Cas straps him in to keep him from sliding off the chair, and Sam folds the belt in half so that he has something to bite down on. Cas grabs a rag and walks behind you to wrap it around your mouth, giving you something to bite down on. You want to spit it out but he ties it tightly around so you're unable to.

"Are you ready?" Cas asks.

Dean simply nods. He looks at you and you glare at him in return. Cas grabs Dean's shoulder to brace himself before shoving his entire hand into Dean's body. Dean tips his head back and cries out in pain, but he makes sure to bite down on the belt to keep it from falling out. Cas pulls out your soul and your eyes widen at seeing how pretty and white it is. Fear creeps into your mind at the thought of this working. Dean slumps in his chair and pants as Cas walks over to you. You brace yourself for the fight of your life. You're going to fight like hell to turn that white soul completely black.

Cas grabs your shoulder and shoves the soul back into your body. Your head tips back and you let out a painful scream. Red magic shoots out of your body, going haywire. The entire Bunker shakes at its foundation because of your magic. Sam and Dean watch the red tendrils of magic shooting out and hitting the wall so hard that the wall cracks from the pressure. Cas pushes your soul further, and a ring of blue magic explodes out from all sides of you. The entire Bunker stops shaking and everything is silent. You're lying in the chair with your eyes closed, not moving a muscle.

"Let me out of here," Dean says once he spits out the belt. Sam unties him and Dean shoots out of his chair to get to you. He kneels in front of you and grabs both sides of your face. "Sweetheart, wake up." He moves your hair out of your face but you don't wake up. "Why isn't she waking up?"

Cas walks over and runs a hand down your body, white light protruding from his palm. He's checking to make sure your soul is secure, which it is. He doesn't see any darkness inside you.

"Dean, she's been through a tremendous amount of trauma. This must have taken a lot out of her. Let her rest. She'll wake up soon."

Dean undoes the straps holding you to the chair before picking you up bridal style. He brings you to your shared room and lays you on your side of the bed. He moves your hair away and kisses your forehead with tears in his eyes.

"Please come back to me," he whispers. "I need you."

He hates doing it but he leaves you alone in the room and closes the door quietly behind him. For the first time in a year, his head feels light and he feels empty where your soul once was. At least with you inside of him, he could protect you. Now, it's all on you to make it out of this. Dean walks to the kitchen where Sam and Cas are, and both men are on edge about the situation.

"She should wake up soon," Cas says.

"Yeah, if it worked."

"It did. There was no more darkness left in her."

Dean doesn't want to keep talking about this. One of his problems might have been solved, but there is still one big one.

"Where are we on the book? Any luck with Rowena?"

"I was just about to go there now and speak with her, but I wanted to wait until Y/N woke up," Sam says.

"If she wakes up," Dean whispers. "If it worked and we get her back, we're still left with one problem. What's waiting for us when we mess with the Book of the Damned?"

"You don't know there will be any."

"Come on, Sam. A God-level power book and you don't think there will be consequences?"

"What are we supposed to do, Dean? Just sit on our asses and do nothing?"

"No, that's not what--"

"The only thing that stopped Cain was death. Do you want to die? Do you want to kill your wife? The only way I know to help you two is to cure the Mark. I know there will be consequences but you two are worth it. We beat the devil. We beat the Leviathans. We beat Eve and her monsters. We can beat this. I'm not arguing about this anymore. We're saving you two. End of story."

"Alright," Dean says in a soft voice.

"Let's go somewhere, you and me."

"No thanks."

"Sweetheart, come on."

"Dean, I have been trying to plot my way out of here the second you stole me from the Bunker. I am only here because I have to be, not because I want to be."

"You could have left if you wanted to."

"Yeah, like you're going to let me go off on my own, fuck other men, and all that jazz, right? You beat the shit out of the first man you see who looks at me wrong."

"I protected your honor."

"No, you wanted to prove that you're the one in control and will always be the one in control. Talk about a head case," you scoff and zip your bag up.

"You got all that from a bar fight? Wow. You're good," Dean chuckles and sits up in bed.

"Dean, I've been around you my whole life. I know who the good guys and the bad guys are. Right now, I'm seeing a whole lot of bad. You know, the kind of guy that--"

"--fucks every skank in every small-town dive he passes through? Wow, you really do know how to read people because that sure as hell sounds like me."

You chuckle at his insult and sling your bag over your shoulder.

"You know what, maybe you're right. Maybe I am a skank, but it beats being a man who thinks he's the shit because he's got a cool-ass blade and the Mark when in reality, he's nothing but a loser with a shitty personality and daddy issues." Dean gets out of bed so quickly and towers over you but you're not intimidated by him. You stand your ground and look up at him instead of backing up like he wants you to. "Go ahead. Kill me." He doesn't move a muscle. "That's what I thought. You wouldn't have beaten that man to death and scared off every bartender if I didn't mean something to you. That's the difference between you and me, Dean. I don't give a rat's ass about you, but you still somehow care for me. Funny how that is."

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Cas asks and yanks his hand back.

"What the hell's gotten into me? Shall I recap how shitty the past couple of years have been? First, Henry Winchester is responsible for bringing Abaddon into our lives. Second, my idiot of a husband dug her up when she was buried permanently to ask her a fucking question only to have her escape. That caused us to look for ways to kill her, leading us over to Cain and his fucking Mark which is what both Dean and I took.

"Not to mention the civil war that was happening in Hell at the same time a civil war was happening on Earth because of angels you shoved out of Heaven in the first fucking place. You let yourself get manipulated by Metatron who, don't get me started, is a complete egotistical dick. He forced the angels to take sides. They could either be with Metatron in hopes of returning home or be with a wannabe angel with stolen grace in hopes they overcome Metatron.

"Not only did a war begin that you fucking started in the first place, but it sent Metatron to destroy Dean because he knew the only thing that could stop him was that fucking mark and that fucking blade. If Metatron didn't want to kill Dean, there couldn't have been a mark. For there not to be a mark, Abaddon would have never shown up. If Abaddon was never here, Sam and Dean would have never needed her to figure out one of the trials. The trials that came from the demon tablet and gave us the knowledge of an angel tablet. The angel tablet that you used to aid Metatron in casting out all the angels from their home. The same Metatron who killed my husband.

"Somehow it all leads back to you. This is your fault. So, tell me, what the hell do I have to be happy for?" You take a step closer to Cas and glare up at him. "How about you do us all a favor and let whatever grace you've stolen die out. A least that will save us from whatever pain you bring us next."

Okay, you've heard enough. You walk over to Doug and tap him on the shoulder. He turns to you but you give him a deadly slap to the cheek. He is shocked at your behavior and staggers back from the impact. Donna and Jody are shocked into silence.

"You are a fucking lowlife and a shitty person if you treat Donna like that. No wonder she divorced you because I can't stand to be in the same room as you much less spend my life with you. Get the hell out of here."

"O-Oh, okay," Doug stutters.

"What the h-e-double hockey sticks, Y/N? Calling my ex a lowlife? Slapping him in the face?"

"What, like you were gonna do it?"

"What would be the point? We're divorced! Do you really think I'm gonna change him now?"

"Let me get this straight. You're going to let everyone walk over you like a fucking doormat forever? Is that it?"

"How about this? Until you've actually lost a husband, you keep your mouth zipped about mine." 

You chuckle slightly and look down at the ground. Donna takes this as a sign that you're sad about losing your husband.

"My husband died."

"Oh. I'm sorry if--"

"Oh, don't worry about it. He came back as a dick."

"Okay? I'm going to get some air."

Donna leaves and you turn to Jody who can't believe the attitude you have.

"You had a husband, right?" you smirk. Jody's face hardens as she glares at you but she doesn't answer. "Didn't you have a son? Man, losing two people in one night. That's gotta hurt." Jody opens her mouth to say something but decides against it. "Cat got your tongue? Don't worry, I'm sure your son ate it along with your husband."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[taybatwo2]

Mini Review of Issue 2 and the Halloween Special IDW Comic

Since I STILL have not had any time to actually make my usual deep dive reviews: I still wanted to get out my quick thoughts on the newest MH comic issues.

Issue 2:

the artwork is still really good (just under the lovely artwork from “I Put a Spell on You”), and done by the same artist from the first issue. There are some great cameos:

Moanica D’Kay is mentioned as wanting to try out for the Cheer Squad, but didn’t show (which was such a let down- she would definitely add something to this series).

Seth Ptolemy (but he’s supposedly dating Nefera…?)

Cleo’s mom is actually alive and around her family MUCH earlier than what “Cleo De Nile and the Creeperific Mummy Makeover” book implied).

Honey Swamp (I don’t believe she was attending Monster High, unless she is a new transfer student there). Catrine, Rochelle, Invisi Billy, Sarah, Cleo’s G1 Vanity, Twyla, Skelita, Robecca, Venus, Heath, LOTHAR(?!?!), Deuce, Jackson, Nefera, Catty, Jinafire, Wydowna, Gil, Lagoona, Jane Boolittle, Eyera, Valentine, Spelldon, CA Cupid, Iris, Lorna, Bonita, Sirena, Holt, Operetta, Spectra are al background characters that show up in this (which is fun to see). The writing is still….not hitting for me personally. Maybe if this was someone’s first entry to G1 Monster High, or if they are much younger than I am. It hasn’t completely turned me off from reading it, so I’ll probably pick up the third issue too. But I am still getting hints of Riverdale in my Monster High (or Lisi Harrison’s Monster High).

Basically, Cleo is upset that Deuce is not groveling at her feet to get her back (she broke it off in the book). BECAUSE Clawdeen “flirted and is still flirting with Deuce.” AND I HATE THIS SO MUCH IN SO MANY WAYS. They have already done the break up multiple times, and Clawdeen and Deuce are literally just looking at each other or just talking. She literally doesn’t have any chemistry with G1 Deuce (Operetta or ROCHELLE as a love “rival” would have been much more interesting to explore with if they wanted to bring this up….again).

Frankie is just wanting the ghouls to patch things up with everyone and is super excited for the cheer try outs.

Frankie’s dad is still the new headmaster; he is drowning in headmaster duties, is super tired, still kinda ignoring Frankie’s interests, and tells her to not go out after sun-up (which was never an issue in any of the other G1 canon….but whatever). And his face IS STILL IN SHADOW.

Draculaura is still stressed out. Clawdeen is here. Toralei is still angry at Clawdeen for some reason, the were twins are still only fanging out with Cleo, Ghoulia is being left behind/taken for granted by Cleo (again, don’t like that they have basically gotten rid of all of Cleo characterization and put her back to season 1 of the webseries) and looks like the “people in the cloaks” are going to start targeting her.…oh joy…

The cheer try outs are successful and Sarah, Iris, Frankie, Cleo, Clawdeen, Draculaura are all under Toralei’s cheer squad this scaremester.

Cleo is still not happy and goes to cry in the library, where Ghoulia is also hiding out.

Okay, now for the Halloween Special (I was expecting a better pun title, but oh well):

Also! There is only ONE story in this comic: “Maze of Frightmares” (not unevenly split between two stories like the Pride Issue). I liked this aspect.

The artwork is different than any of the other comics. It’s much rougher and sketchy, the colors are dingier, but I really like it (probably third favorite after I Put a Spell on You and Issue 1-2). I think Frankie’s dad looks the best here. Also, it looks like the third issue of Monster High has been moved to next month, instead of releasing this month as well.

The cameos are non-existence (there might be Gigi Grant in one panel, but all the backgrounders are new). Elvira is giving out costume prizes. There are fun some references: Ghoulia as Deadfast and Clawdeen as her Scarily Ever After doll.

The other costumes are either a pun: Manny as a “cowboy” and Clawd is “a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Deuce is a Roman gladiator, Cleo is Bastet/a black cat, Frankie is a detective, Slo Mo is a hockey player, Draculaura is princess? Vampire queen? Victorian lady??, and Toralei is an 80’s hair metal/rock star.

Again, I’m not a fan of the story, despite it being nice that the story is the whole issue. It feels like it jumps around a bit or some of the ideas/jokes are not fully fleshed out or just dumped. Draculaura and Headmaster Frankenstein decide to throw a Halloween Carnival for all the ghouls to keep them occupied during this “boring normie holiday.” ….i remember it being time to be afraid of Normies and then after a party at Monster High did it end up being a fun party celebrating their scaritage….but okay, let’s see what happens here. They also mostly call Normies: Humans. Also, I miss the crazy amount of puns that “Summer Fangout” and G1 in general uses.

Clawdeen is afraid that all of the costumes she designed are actually bad (she also designed something for Lagoona, but she never shows up). Cleo is trying to get Deuce to notice her (the werecat twins are there, but only speak off panel). Draculaura is worried people are not going to like all the activities (apparently she is afraid of fair rides and mazes too..?)

Ghoulia, Clawd, Frankie and Deuce are there. Slo Mo is also (sometimes) present.

Manny is suddenly super quiet and self conscious (he is still really bad at mazes). He reminds me more of the G3 version. They all decide to run through the maze to see who can get through it the fastest and they all end up living their frightmares (because Headmaster Frankenstein designed it that way…somehow…he also designed a bunch of the games and prizes including x-ray glasses that NEVER COME INTO PLAY besides confirming Slo Mo and any other students in the maze have dispersed). Cleo becomes invisible, Frankie and Manny start talking a lot to one another (and I thought Frankie was just trying to be her encouraging self) BUT CLAWDEEN SAYS THAT THEY ARE FLIRTING AND PUSHES HER TO DO IT MORE (?!?!??!). It is thankfully interrupted by Frankie falling apart (I don’t know why that is Frankie’s worse nightmare, she’s always falling apart and has often used it to her advantage…maybe it’s in front of a guy she wants to impress and I can think of FOUR OTHER GUYS IN CANON THAY FIT THAT BILL: Jackson, Holt, Andy, and Neighthan). Then the flirting is never brought up again…except them hugging at the end. Clawdeen thinks she overhears/sees Toralei calling her fashion sense terrible and Frankie tells her that they are “fine.” Draculaura sees HER DEAD FATHER and he pushes her away and says she is not doing 100% on everything (he brings up Halloween as a day where normies wreck havoc on monsters). Those are the only ones that have frightmares and it’s solved when Dracualaura turns into a bat and flies up to lead them out (in a very unclear two page spread).

Toralei complements Clawdeen’s talent and doesn’t seem to have a chip on her shoulder like in the main issues (and in G1 canon in general). Headmaster Frankenstein congratulates everyone and then freaks out that students are missing.

Elvira gives Ghoulia third place (apparently Clawdeen made her outfit, not Ghoulia herself), Cleo second, and Frankie Stein is first (I smell NEPOTISM).

It ends with Ghoulia freaking out where her boyfriend is, students missing, Headmaster Frankenstein having a meltdown, and Cleo saying that she guesses she won’t sneak out (there was a bet on who would get out of the maze last would have to sneak out to a Normie Party). womp womp….so many meh feelings

So far my personal rankings for the Comics:

I Put a Spell on You (from The Pride Issue)

Issue 1

Issue 2

Free Comic Book Issue: https://www.tumblr.com/taybatwo2/754406016295321600/monster-high-idw-comics-review-part-13-the-fcbd?source=share

Halloween Special

Summer Fangout (from the Pride Issue)

They are still firmly in their own G1 canon continuity (with the Once Bitten Book - see my Free Comic Book Issue Review to see how I have tried to sort out the mess that is G1 canon), and it’s definitely not my favorite G1 “series.”

I rank the different books/animated series:

1. The Doll Diaries/Diary Book Series/UK’s Figure Mini Diaries

2. The 13 CGI movies

3. The Webseries

4. The two original Graphic Novels

5. The Ghoulfriend’s Book Series

6. The IDW Comics

7. The Lisi Harrison Books

I have not read the Once Bitten book yet (but I’m going to guess it would be towards the bottom).

Well, what are your guys’ thoughts?? Are you/will you read them?? Are you just going to wait for my longer reviews or the collected edition?? Am I completely off my mark on these comics??

[edupunkn00b]

Just Like Magic, Chapter 8: Seek

Prev - Seek - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

From Chapter 7: Light

“Not a mage, no, but… something,” he murmured. Finally, he shook his head. “Something dangerous?” “No,” he shook his head again, almost laughing. “No, definitely not dangerous. Not to us.” He looked like he wanted to say more but instead he clapped his hands and fished his staff out from under the covers. “I will prepare breakfast for us,” he said, pushing up to his feet and beginning to fold the blankets. “Let me help,” Logan said and reached for the opposite corners. “Ah, ah, ah,” Janus tutted as he took the blanket from him with a little smile. “You, my dear Logan, have a staff to find.”

Janus gave Logan his cloak for his trip deeper into the woods. “The snow appears to have stopped for now, but the skies are heavy with more,” he murmured, fastening the clasp. Feigning to struggle with a twisted hem, he ducked his head to hide his frown at the way the cloak swallowed Logan’s bony frame. They would soon need to find him more food. While their meals of travel rations and foraged nuts appeared to be more than Logan had regular access to, he would need more to truly recover from years of undernourishment, let alone be ready for the trek back north to New Veecey.

But this morning’s mission was simpler. “Here,” Janus said, lifting his satchel. While he’d emptied it of most of his travel gear, the bag still held Logan’s spellbook. “You can carry this.”

Nodding, Logan looped the bag over his head and shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, patting the strap. “I… I’m sorry I don’t feel ready… to leave it behind. I trust you with it, I—”

“You are right to want to protect what’s precious to you,” Janus smiled, brushing an imagined bit of leaf or twig from Logan’s hair. “Don’t ignore that instinct. Certainly not for fear of appearing impolite.”

Nodding again, Logan chuckled. “Thank you.”

Janus’ response died in his throat when he glanced over Logan’s shoulder and caught sight of shadows moving beyond the protective veil of the creek. Pushing a smile onto his face, he directed Logan’s gaze away and gestured deeper into the forest. “Search anywhere within the boundary of the water. Don’t cross it.”

“You enchanted the creek,” he guessed, eyeing the still-icy strip. “I saw a spell for that but I couldn’t make it work on the water I had.”

“That’s to be expected.” One hand gently gripping his shoulder, Janus walked him few steps closer to the thicket. “Just like pyrocasting, it’s a matter of harnessing the power that’s already there. A cup or vessel isn’t the same as naturally flowing water.”

Logan’s brow crinkled but he nodded.

“Once you’ve found wood for your staff, I’ll show you something new. Now go,” Janus murmured, the deepening shadows just beyond the creek giving him fresh urgency. Buoyed by the promise of learning new magic, Logan grinned and marched with fresh purpose toward an opening in the woods.

Janus watched him for as long as he dared, then readied himself for his own hunt.

~

Twenty or so paces ahead, earthen patches sprouted where the trees grew so thickly together their branches blocked much of that night’s snow. One foot still in the snowy clearing behind him, Logan looked back over his shoulder and watched Janus for one more moment. Satisfied his smooth, purposeful movements meant the lucis had truly helped restore the magic he’d used defending him from Cassius and his mob, Logan nodded to himself. He took a deep breath and stepped into the thicket.

Guarded by dense woods, the air stilled, the wind’s whine and whistles hushed. In its place was the soft chitter and rustle of the forest’s creatures. A startled hare bounded past and a disinterested moose eyed him for a long moment before closing his giant maw on another patch of pine needles off a fallen branch.

Logan walked further, keeping a meandering finger of the creek to his right, following its swoops and dips. When he was done searching, he could simply follow it back to their camp. Before long, he came across a tall felled aspen, its roots still firmly gripping the soil. Fresh growth sprouted from what was left of the splintered trunk, the shoots nearly as large around as the thickest part of Logan’s wrist.

The rest of the tree, though, lay barren and dead, its wood dried from seasons spent separated from its roots. Knots and swirls broke up its bright white bark, and the larger knots looked so much like eyes that, for a moment, Logan imagined one blinked. A chuckle burst from his lips, breaking the growing silence in the woods and the tension in his throat.

“It’s like she’s watching you,” a high voice laughed from behind him.

Logan spun around, scanning the woods. But it wasn’t until he looked down that he locked eyes with the source of the laughter.

A little boy.

~

Janus continued his preparations, piling wood next to their dwindling fire and filling his small cook pot with snow. He set it to melt next to the fire-warmed rocks and listened as Logan’s footsteps began again then faded as he ventured deeper into the woods. Janus waited a full minute longer before rising and approaching the creek’s edge.

This close to the veil, Janus spotted retreating shadows where even the faint magical light of the air itself fled in the wake of the descendants of Southern Inquisitores. When he was certain their pursuers had abandoned this section of the forest, Janus slipped through the veil protecting the  camp they’d built in the middle of danger.

Woodsmoke, heavier than that of their campfire, assaulted his nose. Tinged with the wet, rancid stench of burnt tar, it scraped the back of his throat. He covered his face with his sleeve and stifled a cough before steeling himself with a quiet chant.

‘There are spells for that…’

‘Yes, for emergencies. For life-or-death situations. For battle.’

Shucking off the cold and the lingering ache under his ribs, Janus took one more slow breath, then turned to test the strength of the protective charm he’d placed on their camp. Already, even he could not spot where Logan had slipped into the forest. Logan would be safe until he returned.

~

“Who—Wha—” Logan stumbled backwards, eyes darting about the surrounding forest. “Whe—Where did you—” The boy was dressed in patched woolen breeches and sturdy—if old—leather boots. A double-knit sweater poked out from beneath his oilcloth cloak and a matching green hat was pulled down over a mess of auburn curls. He was dressed for the weather, but not for travel, and his clothes and hair, while not spotless, had both been recently washed. He lived close.

Logan’s was the only town for miles. The boy looked familiar, too. Logan must have seen him around the town. This child must live there. But what was he doing exploring the Dark Woods? He couldn’t possibly be alone. Which meant…

“Where are your parents?” he asked, keeping his voice low and pushing away his fear. His knees wobbled and he peered between the trees, readying himself for whoever had accompanied this child.

The boy loped closer and grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Pop's at home,” he grinned, wild eyes fixed on Logan’s face. His stare should have been unnerving and coming from anyone else, Logan suspected he would have fought to extricate himself from this child’s remarkably strong grasp. But from this boy, he merely felt… seen.

“Do you—” Logan bit back the question. Do you know who I am? sounded more like a threat than a warning against the trouble this boy would surely find himself in for innocently associating with him. He looked up at Logan, bright green eyes dancing. Gleeful.

Unable to shake the strange familiarity in his gaze, Logan asked instead, “Do I know you?”

The boy grinned again and pointed to the tree. “Whatcha gonna do with her?”

With the reminder of the tree and her luminous bark so like Janus’ staff, Logan’s own questions faded. He tilted his head and traced the edges of the larger knots. “I… “ he began. “I am uncertain.” But was he?

The wood buzzed under his fingertips, warmth spreading up his arm and into his chest.

You will know, Janus’ voice rang through his mind.

“I need a bough,” he said, fingers closing around a thinner branch. Despite the winter’s chill, the wood was warm against his palm, sun-baked rocks at dusk. “But…”

“But you don’t want to just pull it off her,” the boy finished.

“Well, yes, but—” Logan turned again to the child. The top of his head barely grazed Logan’s elbow. He couldn’t’ve been much more than five or six years old, but he didn’t behave anything like Logan imagined a six year old would.

“Can I show you something?” the boy suddenly asked, eyebrows waggling under the fold his hat.

Logan held his breath, ripped back to his front porch, blinking at the twin boys bouncing on their toes as they waited for his answer. Can we show you something, Logie?

Before he could formulate a better—or a wiser—answer, Logan nodded. The boy took off, small fingers still wrapped tightly around his arm. Logan’s longer legs helped him keep up with the boy’s sprint, but just barely. While Logan had explored the woods, the sun had stretched higher in the sky, warming the air and the earth. A faint scent of sod and pine burst up with each step and the boy seemed to take pleasure in zig-zagging between the smaller trees. After successfully dodging a low-hanging branch, Logan let out his own laugh and the boy glanced back, eyes bright.

“Here!” he said, suddenly stopping at the base of another young tree growing out of a mangled stump. The husk of whatever came before lay split on the ground, charred edges hinting at the lighting strike that must’ve felled it.

Though the trunk had been thick, easily twice as broad as Logan’s outstretched arms, it had been shorter than the surrounding trees, with long, twisted branches splayed out as though reaching for its brethren. The question of how lighting had even found it in the crowded forest pecked at Logan’s mind and knelt to get a better look.

Impossibly, the tree’s core was tinged in blue, like it had been stained with fancy ink. Without thinking, Logan reached out.

The tree sparked back, the tiny blue arc startling him. He fell back and sat panting on the forest floor, staring at the tree.

Still smiling, the boy sat next to him, thin fingers dancing in his lap. “Did it hurt?” he asked, watching Logan more than the tree.

“No,” he shook his head, hand already lifted and reaching again. “It felt—”

“Strong?” the boy guessed.

“It felt right.”

You will know.

Logan crawled closer and set both hands on the fallen tree. Blue light arced between this fingers, brighter than any fire, but it didn’t burn. “How?” He watched the light swirl around his hands, reminiscent of that morning’s lucis dancing in Janus’ palms.

“It’s a special tree.” The little boy now perched on a branch thicker than Logan’s thigh. Light did not spark from where he sat and Logan moved closer, tapping every few inches. He marveled at the bright blue light glowing under each touch.

“I do not…” He stared down at his hands and then at the boy. “I do not understand.”

“It’s a blue mahoe. They won’t grow here by themselves,” he explained without explaining anything. “And I think it’s yours.”

A twig snapped behind them and they both turned. In the path forged by their footsteps lay a long branch from the tree, as thick around as the boy’s arm and taller than Logan. “That wasn’t there—” Logan began, looking back at the child.

The boy was gone.

“Hello?” he called, belatedly realizing he did not even know the child’s name. “Whe—where did you go?”

It’s yours… the wind answered back.

[ae-neon]

rewrite drabble for practice because I've forgotten how to write 😕

☆

Farrow, or what was left of it, sat almost half a day's ride north of Ironhill.

From what Nesta had told her, there'd once been a dozen hamlets between the Gates and the ancient fortress their town had grown around. Feyre had ventured deep enough into the Blackwood and seen the remains of long abandoned strongholds to know it was true.

But this...

All around her evidence of the people of Farrow persisted in visceral detail: their clothes and blood, their broken and torn bodies, their still smoking homes. So different from the stone shells littered in the forest, from the faceless ghosts of the past.

Bile rose in her throat. Next to her Isaac eased his own nausea, drawing a deep, shaky breath. Neither of them could afford to show weakness under Nolan's hawkish gaze.

They'd been the ones to bring forward the old man whose head wound was bleeding through his makeshift wrappings.

"A survivor," Lord Nolan said.

"By the Mercy of the Nameless," Mayor Beddor breathed and in contrast to Nolan, dismounted his horse to grasp the old man by the arm and shoulder, steadying his frail frame, "Tell us what you saw, sir."

The old man's mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, like the words struggled to journey from his mind to his lips. Feyre had seen her father do the same during his bad spells, had seen Elain patiently coax the words from him, sometimes carrying on one-sided conversations simply so he was not ignored.

Nolan had no such patience. "Speak." He commanded.

The old man found his voice, body trembling, "F-f-fae. Mon-monsters, sir. Ca-Came down the mountain...in, in, in the night."

Mayor Beddor, still half cradling the man, glanced at Nesta, still atop her horse. She met his gaze with equal measure.

Feyre had some idea of the delicate balance the Mayor had been trying to keep between the nobles and trade merchants for control of Ironhill.

As an recruit, and more importantly as someone without the means to warrant importance, Feyre felt her own position was clear. Under the guard, Nolan would give her a gun and with it she would earn enough not to just put clothes on their backs and food in their bellies but enough for paint and paper, enough that she and Nesta might build a dowry for Elain.

Which made Nesta's ambivalence all the more frustrating, still uselessly clinging to some notion of aristocracy, a long gone idea of wealth and the hope of something more.

Hope, a cold bitterness gripped Feyre as her eyes once again took in the ruins of Farrow, what a foolish thing.

-

In the beginning of acotar it's said that Fae come through the Wall and wipe out whole villages overnight. This raises some serious questions for me but fuck it, let's humor the idea.

[quietwings-fics]

The Downed Devil

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Samifer Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Wingfic, Winged Lucifer (Supernatural), Unresolved Tension, Season/Series 05 Wordcount: 1972 Summary:

Lucifer gets a little tied up. Sam sets him free.

None of them were expecting Castiel’s traps to actually work.

It was a shot in the dark, an offhand note in one book out of thousands, but funny thing about the Apocalypse. It tended to make people a little desperate. Which was how Sam ended up here, in the empty house he and Dean were squatting in for the time being (since trespassing was preferable to another night cramped in the Impala) and one room over, if the explosive clatter of noise Sam had woken to meant anything, there was now an angel caught fast. Sam had dialed Dean the minute the noise died down.

“Well,” Dean said, sucking in a breath and sounding as shocked as Sam felt, “shit. Point one for you, Cas.” Sam could hear the angel say something, but whatever it was was lost over the shitty connection. “We’ll be there soon. Cas says we should leave them there. Should be harmless right now.” Dean huffed. “Personally, I think we should fry their ass with holy oil. That’d send a message.” Castiel’s voice again, distinctly aggravated. “It’s not like it’d kill them,” Dean argued with him. “Unless it does. In which case, we’ve figured out a new way to fight angels. Win:win.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Sam said, not in the mood to listen to Dean and Cas bicker for an hour. “Just hurry up.”

“ETA twenty minutes, Sammy.” Dean hung up first, and Sam rolled his eyes. There was one thing he knew he should absolutely not do, which was go see who exactly got themselves caught by Castiel’s magical mousetrap. That would be a terrible idea.

Sam unlocked the door to the other room and opened it cautiously.

He didn’t see anything at first. He wasn’t entirely sure how this trap worked. Castiel’s explanation had gone over even his head, but it was complicated and it was powerful. Sam opened the door further and edged inside, looking around. The room was dark but lacking any furniture, so though it took him a minute to see the person slumped in the corner of the room, it was unmistakably whoever had been caught up in the spell. Sam waited for them to move, but they didn’t. He pushed the door open wider.

Sam reached into his pocket for a small flashlight. The house didn’t have any electricity, and it was too late to rely on sunlight. He clicked it on and raised it to get a better look at the angel in the corner. There was what looked like rope tying them up. They stirred, finally, and turned to look at him just as the beam of his flashlight fell over their face. Sam jolted back. Lucifer stared up at him, unbothered by the light shining in his face, not squinting or ducking his head to avoid it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam demanded.

“I wanted to check on you,” Lucifer answered. He shifted around, using his shoulder to prop himself up against the wall. “You’ve been avoiding me.” By which he meant that Sam had been sleeping less. Sam squeezed the flashlight in his hand. The brightness of it made Lucifer’s eyes unnaturally pale. “I was worried about you.”

“How’d you find me?” Sam asked, ignoring those last words, ignoring the way they made his chest clench. Just because Lucifer knew how to play him well didn’t mean Sam had to sing for him. “The warding Cas made on my ribs is still working.”

“I have a lot of demons, Sam,” Lucifer said, and his eyes finally drifted away from Sam’s face, a scowl appearing on his face. “Too many. But most of them recognize you on sight. They keep me informed.” He closed his eyes, relaxed, and looked back up at Sam. “Will you let me go?”

“Not likely.” Something hurt settled behind Lucifer’s eyes. Sam let the flashlight drop, inspecting the rest of him. He was tied up tight, his arms and legs out of commission. Sam could see him testing the bonds every few seconds, small movements like he was trying to hide his struggling but persistent. Sam followed the rope over his arm to his back with the flashlight beam, and Lucifer recoiled suddenly, twisting away. He nearly slid down off the wall to the floor in his haste.

“Don’t,” he snapped, voice sharper than Sam had ever heard it be. “Sam, don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Sam asked, taking a step closer. There was something... off about the shape of Lucifer’s body. He couldn’t get a good look from across the room, not with Lucifer trying to hide whatever it was. Lucifer tried to push himself further into his corner. It didn’t work as well as he wanted, and in trying to hide whatever was behind one shoulder from Sam, he ended up exposing his other side. Sam cast the light over it and couldn’t help gaping. “Are those-”

“Stop looking at them!” That sounded less like anger and more like fear, and Sam responded automatically, dropping the beam of the flashlight so that Lucifer was safely hidden away in his dark corner again. It wasn’t like he could forget what he’d seen now. They hadn’t looked like wings, or, at least, they hadn’t looked like wings anymore. Sam couldn’t even tell what color they had been originally, so mired in ash and dust and blood stains, the feathers tangled together or broken or missing completely. Sam didn’t raise the flashlight again, and Lucifer calmed down enough so that when he spoke again, his voice was back to being soft and even. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he said. “They aren’t very pleasant to look at anymore.”

“What happened?” Lucifer gave a little sigh.

“Hell. Michael.” He shuffled again, and Sam could see the silhouette of him turning his head to look over his shoulder in the low light. “I might have done some of it to myself. I can’t remember.” He slumped against the wall again.

Cautiously, Sam raised the flashlight. This time, Lucifer did not recoil. He had his forehead pressed against the wall now, and he glanced at Sam, eyes narrowed. It should have been a threat. Instead, it made him look more tired than anything. He didn’t react to Sam’s inspection this time. He had a better angle to look at them now, with Lucifer half-turned away from him as he was. The wings were bound as tightly as the rest of him, rope cutting deep grooves into the already messed-up feathers. They were uneven where they jutted out from his back, like a broken bone that healed before it could be set correctly, and Sam felt a pang of sympathy despite himself. The idea that Lucifer was flying around orchestrating the end of the world on a broken wing was cruel.

“Are you going to leave me like this?” Lucifer asked, and Sam realized how much closer he’d gotten while looking over the wings, only a foot or so away from the archangel on the floor. Lucifer’s tone was flat, and though he was looking up at Sam, Sam wasn’t entirely sure he was seeing him.

“It’s not like anything can hurt you. Even like this.” Sam said. He grimaced at the echo of Dean’s words from earlier. If there was any angel on Earth his brother would be eager to light on fire, it’d be Lucifer. Lucifer curled further into his corner. His wings flexed, restrained by the rope. There was something so viscerally wrong about that. It made Sam’s stomach twist. This should have felt like a victory, even a minuscule one, to have Lucifer powerless and trapped at his feet. Instead, Sam was caught feeling as though he’d done something sacrilegious.

He watched as Lucifer’s mangled wings tried hopelessly to free themselves.

It wouldn’t help anyone if Dean got his hands on Lucifer like this. They couldn’t kill him, and eventually, Lucifer was going to get free. Whatever Dean did to him in the meantime would be paid back tenfold when he did. There was no world in which Dean and Cas got here to see Lucifer trapped and this ended well. Sam stared at Lucifer’s wings and pretended to reason himself into what he had already decided to do the moment he’d laid eyes on them.

Sam knelt down beside Lucifer and reached for his pocket knife.

The ropes were thick but not impossible to cut through like he’d feared. The trap held no power over him, and he could undo it from the outside. Lucifer kept very still, his minute struggles ceased the moment Sam first set his knife against the rope. When the first one snapped free, Lucifer’s head turned slightly and Sam could feel the weight of his gaze. Another snap, and another, rope after rope falling loose to the ground around Lucifer. Sam didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, didn’t give himself a second to question what the hell he was doing.

The only sounds were Sam’s breathing and the hiss of his knife. Lucifer’s wings were tense, and Sam was trying not to touch him more than he needed to while cutting him free. He wasn’t succeeding. Lucifer’s feathers felt brittle. Sam’s fingers lit up with a strange electric sensation wherever they touched.

Another rope snapped.

Sam didn’t even register what happened next. All he knew was that one moment, he was kneeling next to Lucifer, reaching for another rope, and the next, he was flat on his back. Lucifer was on top of him, his hands flat on Sam’s chest, and there was something wild and furious in his eyes that made Sam’s heart leap into his throat. Lucifer’s wings arched, the right one rising higher than the left, stretching out to dwarf Sam, no matter what state they were in. For a second, Sam was afraid Lucifer might kill him.

He stayed there, deathly still, pinning Sam to the floor.

Sam could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Slowly, Lucifer tilted his head. He lifted a hand to Sam’s face and stroked Sam’s cheekbone with his thumb. Sam didn’t dare move. Lucifer seemed to relax, his wings lowering again. He smiled down at Sam.

“I knew it,” he murmured. “You can’t stand to see me caged, can you?”

Sam refused to damn himself with an answer.

“Thank you,” Lucifer said, and he drew his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone again. Sam’s skin tingled pleasantly at the contact. Lucifer paused, and his thumb dipped to lightly press over Sam’s lips. Sam sucked in a breath and couldn’t have said if it was fear that made him do it or something else. Lucifer drew his hand back. He lingered for a moment longer, though, watching Sam affectionately, and Sam realized that there was a worse thing than Dean walking in on a trapped Lucifer, and that was Dean walking in on whatever the hell was happening between them right now.

Lucifer tipped Sam’s head forward slightly and bowed down to kiss his forehead, static lighting in Sam’s skin under his mouth. “I have to go now. Get more sleep, Sam. You look exhausted.” And then, the weight pinning Sam to the floor was gone. Sam stayed there a moment longer, trying to catch his breath and process that. When he heard a car pulling up outside the house, he finally forced himself to scramble to his feet. He had to lie to Dean and Cas that the trap had failed on its own somehow. Dean accepted it readily enough. It seemed plausible, given how hard angels were to deal with in general. Castiel stared at Sam for a very long time, and Sam wasn’t sure Cas believed a word he’d said.

The spot on his forehead that Lucifer had kissed was still tingling when he fell asleep that night.

[fandomtherapy44]

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Dean and Sam. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since they are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 5,854

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural, the boys being mean to y/n, love spells

Chapter seven: Sex and violence

Y/n's POV

I was on my way back from getting some coffee and doughnuts for my brothers and I because there was no way that we wouldn't stop for these anyway. So, I thought I might as well get it out of the way and save some time and let my brothers sleep as much as they could considering the last few weeks. I was also wondering how Cas was doing. I haven't seen him these last few weeks. I kind of wished I had, just being around him somehow makes me be calmer and that's important with the stressful job I have. I hope he didn't get in trouble for when he hesitated to knock me out or that he's not hurt when Alastair almost pulled a uno reverse on him. I wish he could have a damn phone so I'm not worrying half of the time. 

As I open the motel room door, I make sure to be extra quiet to not wake Sam and Dean. I look to the beds and see Dean in one but not Sam. Then I hear his voice from the bathroom. “Yeah, that's what I'm telling you. No storms, no bad crops, nothing.” Demon signs? Who was he talking to this early in the morning? I was sure it was not Bobby because I knew he just got done with a pretty nasty werewolf case and was properly sleeping off the beer and coffee along with exhaustion. I try to stand still to not warn Sam then I hear sheets moving and look to see Dean awake listening to the same interesting conversation. “Yeah, okay. We'll keep looking. You keep looking too, OK? All right. Talk soon.” 

Sam finished and was coming out of the bathroom. I ran back to the door to make it look like I had just got back and slammed the door loud. “Hey guys I got coffee and doughnuts for us.” I said placing the drinks and food down on the table trying to sound normal. They both kind of looked at it like I had just gotten a five-star steak meal. They both come over grabbing some joe and a pastry. “Thanks Y/n/n” Dean said, stuffing his face with sprinkles falling out as a result. “Yes, thank you Y/n” Sam replied, grabbing a cup of joe and got a half of a doughnut with him being a health nut and all. “So, were you both sleeping?” I asked, trying not to seem obvious. “Dean was, I was in the can.” “Really” Dean and I both replied. 

“Yeah guys, you want me to draw you a picture?” “Nah We’ll pass I think.” I said sitting on the bed trying not to think about the secret convo in the bathroom. “Found a job. Bedford, Iowa. Guy beat his wife's brains out with a meat tenderizer.” Sam said, handing us a newspaper about the story. “Oh my gosh.” “And get this. Third local inside two months to gank his wife. No priors on any of 'em, all happily married.” “Once is sad and disturbing but three is a pattern.” I said looking at the man in the picture looking very happy with his now very dead wife. “Ahh. Sounds like Ozzie and Harriet.” Dean said, grabbing the newspaper from me. “More like The Shining.” Sam replied with a smirk. “All right, well I guess we'd better have a look.” Dean said moving to the bathroom to get ready for the day and me failing to not think about who the Hell was Sam talking to.

Currently we were sitting in the integration room with the man of the hour. He kept on ignoring eye contact like he was ashamed to look at us. “Why does the PD keep sending you guys? I already said I don't want a lawyer.” “They're lining up the firing squad.” Dean replied, staring the man in the eyes. “I'm pleading guilty.” He said back to us. “All right, look, you don't want us to represent you, that's fine. In fact it's probably not a bad idea, between you and me. We just wanna understand what happened, that's all.” “Mr. Benson. Please.” I said trying a softer approach with him. “What happened was, I killed my wife. You wanna know why? Because she made plans without asking me.” Well, there is another reason to not to date. “Now when it happened, how did you feel? Disoriented, out of control?” Sam asked. “Like something was telling you or possessed you to do it?” I said. “I knew exactly what I was doing. I was crystal clear.” He replied with no stuttering, it was chilling. “Then why'd you, do it?” Dean asked. “I don't know. I loved her. We were happy.” I brought some papers out on the table of his bank statements and tapped on them. “For a man who loved his wife you were sure spending a lot of secret money on 'M & C Entertainment'.” “I don't know what you're talking about.” Come on dude you murdered your wife the least you can do is tell the truth. 

“It means you were dropping fifties on some nude entertainment.” “We just wanna know the truth, Mr. Benson.” Sam added in. “Her name was Jasmine.” Like the Disney princess? “She was a stripper?” Sam questioned. “Dude, her name was Jasmine.” Dean said matter of factly. “I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't like to go to strip bars. My buddy was having a bachelor party, and there she was. She came right up to me. And...I dunno, she was just...perfect. Everything that I wanted.” “Well, you pay enough, and anybody will be anything.” Dean said and he was not wrong. “It wasn't about the money. It wasn't even about the sex. It was...I dunno. I....I don't know what it was. It's hard to explain.” It sounds like this man was down bad for this princess. “And your wife found out?” I asked curious. “No, she never had a clue.” “Then why'd you kill her?” “For Jasmine. She said we would be together forever. If...if only Vicki was…” Dead, damn whatever this is it really wants to be the only woman. “Afterwards, me and Jasmine were supposed to meet, and she never showed. I don't know where she lives, I don't know her last name, I don't even know her real first name! I'm an idiot.” He is but this was not all his fault I have inkling that something else was at play than good sex. “And you didn't think to tell this to the cops?” Sam questioned. “What for? The stripper didn't do it, I did it. And I know what I deserve. The judge doesn't give me the death sentence, I'll just do it myself.”

Sam and I are going to go talk to the head doctor to hopefully get some answers while Dean was finding if the other men had matched with Bensen’s spending. As we walked in the office the doctor was taking some Advil. “Rough night?” Sam questioned. “Fun night. Rough morning.” She said while rubbing her forehead. “Can I help you?” She asked us and I replied. “Ahhh...yes. Um, I'm Special Agent Ross, Agent Stiles, FBI. You Doctor Cara Roberts?” “Far as I know.” “You do some work with the Sheriff's department?” Sam asked. “Yeah, when I'm not slogging it through the ER. It's a small town. We multi-task.” “We have some questions about a case. About several cases actually. Do you mind if we sit?” Sam asked for us. “Great. Adam Benson, Jim Wylie, and Steve Snyder.” I said, referring to the men. “Oh yeah, the men who killed their wives?” “You handled their work-ups, right?” She nodded her head. “Autopsies for the wives and tox screens for the perps. Two-for-one special.” “Fun right” I said, trying to add to the conversation because I sensed that the doctor and Sam were giving each other the look.

“He he I’m sorry. Did you find anything?” I asked moving away from my awkward moment. “Not really. I mean, c.o.d. on the women was pretty clear. There was nothing unusual in their systems.” That would make sense. “What about the husbands?” “Can I....see your badges again?” she asked, and we both pull them out again. She gives Sam’s a real good hard look while she barely glances at mine. “There was one thing, um, an anomaly in the blood work. And I remember thinking how strange it was that it showed up in all three of the men.” She said as she pulled out their files. “What showed?” I asked while looking at the file. “Oxytocin. And their levels were crazy high.” “Ahh. Oxytocin?” “Mm-hmm, it's a hormone that's produced during childbirth, lactation and sex.” 

“People call it the love hormone. Um, you know how it feels when you first fall in love. The whole weak in the knees, tattoo you on my chest thing? That's oxytocin. Of course, it eventually fades and then you're stuck with every relationship ever. That and the painful regime of tattoo removal.” I wouldn't know but Sam would. As I looked up from the file Sam and Cara were smiling at each other with that look while they kind of forgot that I was right next to them. Then Dean entered which is good because it was getting awkward for me. “What'd I miss?” “Um Doctor this is our other partner, Agent Murdoch.” I said introducing them. Then Dean went into his Dean flirt mode. “Please, "Agent" sounds so formal. You can call me Dean.” He said holding out his hand and she took his hand and held it for like two seconds and let go. Wow I don't think I have ever seen this before. Usually, women are all over him and even sometimes get mad at me for being next to him. 

“I'm Doctor Roberts.” Then she turned back to Sam. “So, um, can I help you with anything else?” “Uhh, sure, just one more thing. This chemical, this…” “Oxytocin.” “Oxytocin. What would cause those high levels that you found?” “Nothing that I've ever seen.” “OK. That's it. Thanks Doc.” As he finishes, we go to leave the office and Sam stops to tell her. “By the way...try a greasy breakfast. Best thing for a hangover.” Sammy going for it, good for him. “Watch it buddy, I'm the only M.D. here.” She replied back smiling. “Dude, you totally C-blocked me.” Dean told Sam. yeah sure Dean let's go with that.

The three of us are now going to the car. “So Whylie and Snyder totally fessed up, huh?” Sam asked Dean about the others. “One emptied his IRA, the other, his kids' college fund, all on the same day.” Now that's what I call commitment. “Nude girls?” I questioned. “A club called 'The Honey Wagon'.” Very on the nose I see. “These guys have affairs too, with a stripper also known as Jasmine?” “Yes and no. This is where it gets interesting. Each guy hooked up with a different chick.” “So, is there a secret princess stripper operation going on?” “Well, they all described their stripper in the same way, the exact same way. Perfect, and everything that they wanted.” Like build your own sex doll factory. “Yeah, at least until dream Barbie convinced them to murder their wives.” Sam said being right and a little bit funny. “You know, it's almost like they were under some kind of love spell.” “Exactly what I was thinking I mean usually girls will just take the money and be happy with that but whatever this is it wants devotion that comes from love and for them that means murdering that woman containing the man's life.” I agreed with Sam. “Sure seems that way.” Dean replied back. “Which caused them to become totally psychotic.” “Absolutely.” 

As we entered the strip club, I felt I had at least a dozen pair of eyes landing on me, half of them wanting to see me up on the stage and the other half seeing if I was here to bust them for cheating. “We’re looking for three girls. Jasmine, Aurora and Ariel.” Dean said to the manager as his eyes wandered to the stage. “You seriously think those names mean anything to me?” He said almost annoyed also he was eyeing me up and down. “One's a redhead about 5'9". The other one's Asian, about…” I said getting his memory going hopefully. “You have any idea how many girls I deal with? Fake names, fake hair, fake…” He said, referring to the chest area. “You gotta have some sort of paperwork. Cheque stubs. Some way to keep track of the strippers.” Dean said to him. “Please, exotic dancers. Independent contractors working for cash. I stay out of their hair, they stay out of what little I have left.” “Sir, three of your customers murdered their wives. You don't think that that's weird? Or at least to raise a little concern.” I said to him. 

“Sweetheart, I think that's super-friggin' weird. But you know what it ain't? My problem. And if it turns out one of my employees is a murderer coordinator, I’ll have a spot open. You could have it, you know, if the FBI doesn't work out. I know it's a lot of work for women.” I almost pulled out my gun right there, but I held myself back and Dean looked the same. “Agent, could you go get us some drinks? I got this.” I said turning to Dean and he gave me a look of are you sure and I looked back, yes. “Sir I am just fine in my job, and I will take on more weight in my life then you will ever do in your long single life. Your workers work hard for themselves, and their families and they deserve respect as does anyone and they aren't just objects that you can talk about so carelessly. Next time you want to make a comment like that in front of me I just want you to remember I have a Glock on my side.” I finished walking away leaving him shocked and a little afraid. I walk over to the boys getting to the table and downing my drink I needed to after dealing with that little gremlin.

“Y/n I think he peed himself a little … good job!” Dean said high fiving me. “Just another day another mean person taken down any luck with Bobby?” I asked Sam. “A little. We officially have a theory.” “What’s that?” Dean and I both ask. “Siren.” Ohh that makes sense. “Like Greek myth siren, the Odessy?” Dean said surprising Sam but not me. I knew Dean was smarter than he let people know. “Hey, I read!” He said offended at Sam's look. “Yeah, actually. But the siren's not actually a myth, it's more of a beautiful creature that preys on men, enticing them with their siren song.” “Let me guess, 'Welcome to the Jungle?' No, no. Warrant's 'Cherry Pie.'” Dean responded. “Ha good one but I think Sam means more of allure like a promise of perfection.” “

So, they shake their thing and the guy's zombie out.” “Basically, yeah. Sirens lived on islands, sailors would chase 'em, completely ignoring the rocky shores...and dash themselves to pieces.” Sam added back in. “Sounds like Adam and his buddies.” Dean said back. “exactly” “Yeah. If you were a siren in '09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons, where would you set up shop?” “So whatever floats the guy's boat, that's what they look like?” Dean said confirming it. “Like Disney princesses” I said back. “Yeah. You see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most and then they can kinda, like, cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion.” “So, it could all be the same chick? Morphing into, uh, to different dream girls?” “Yeah, actually. Probably. Sirens are usually pretty solitary.” “So, uh how do we kill it?” I ask. “Bobby's working on it. Even if we figure that out…” “How the hell are we gunna find it? It could be anybody.” 

Dean and I were waiting in the motel room for Sam getting info on the new guy and looks like he left his phone. Dean picks it up. “Dean, come on, maybe we should ask him.” “Y/n with everything that has been going on this past year do you think he would tell the truth.” He doesn’t let me answer and dials the number anyway and puts the phone on speaker. “Hey, Sam.....Sam?... You there...?” Guess who was on the other line my best friend Ruby. We both look at each other in disbelief and he quickly hangs up the phone as Sam comes back in. “Lenny Bristol was definitely another siren vic.” He said walking in the room. “You get in to see him?” Dean asked him, sounding like he was trying not to punch him. “Yep. He brought home a stripper named Belle. Couple hours later he offed his mother. Belle, of course, went MIA.” “Wait, he killed his mom?” “The woman he was closest too.” Then Sams phone rang. “Yeah, you, uh, forgot your cell phone.” I said handing it to him. He gave me weird look. “Hey Bobby.” “Ahhh, no. And, uh, it doesn't seem like she's slowing down any. You got anything?” 

“Hold on a sec, I'll put you on speaker.” He puts the phone on the table for all of us to hear. "It says you need "a bronze dagger, covered in the blood of a sailor, under the spell of the song". “What the hell does that mean?” I ask. “You got me. We're dealing with 3000 years of the telephone game here.” “Best guess?” “Well, the siren's spell ain't got nothing to do with any song. It's most likely some kind of toxin or venom. Something she gets in the vic's blood.” “And makes them go all Manchurian Candidate. Uh, what do you think, she infects the men during sex?” I asked. “Maybe.” “Supernatural STD.” “Well, however it happens, once it's done the siren's gotta watch her back. She gets a dose of her own medicine…” “It will kill her.” I said finishing Bobby’s sentence. “Like a snake getting iced by its own venom.” “So, we just gotta find a way to juice one of the OJs in jail?” Dean said thinking it was going to be that easy. “Not that easy. None of those guys are under the spell anymore. Haven't got a clue where you're going to get the blood you need.” Sam looked like he was thinking. “I think I might have an idea.” He said talking about the blood if we could see it and maybe he could see the doctor again. “Be careful. These things are tricky bitches. Wrap you up in knots before you know what hit ya.” We left ready to go to the hospital and me wanting to talk to Sam about Ruby before Dean would blow up about it. 

“Dr. Roberts.” Sam said to Cara. “Agent Stiles. Can't stay away, huh?” Yup they are definitely feeling each other out. “Actually, uh, we're here on business. About the blood samples. The ones with the high...you know...oxytocin?” “Do you still have them?” I ask. “Mm-hmm.” “Good, we need them.” Dean replied a little rude there. “What for?” She asked. I was about to answer when this handsome man walked up to us in a suit and tie. “Excuse me, Dr. Roberts?” “Yeah?” “Excuse me, uh, we're a little busy here, buddy.” Dean said, pulling out his FBI badge and then so did the man. “Yeah, so am I, pal.” Oh, shit it was a real agent and a cute one at that. “Doc, can you give us a sec, please?” Sam said to Cara. “Sure.” She said backing away. “What's your name?” Dean asked very rudely you know if you're going to fake being an FBI agent you should probably not be a dick to a real one.

“Nick Munroe. What's yours?” I answered before they started to pull out to measure. “I am special agent Y/n Ross, and these are my partners Sam Stiles, Dean Murdoch.” “Y/n that's a pretty name.” Damn it am I blushing I think I’m blushing. “Thanks, I like yours too” What is going on with me? “What office are you from?” Sam stepped in. “Omaha, Violent Crimes Unit. My SAC sent me down here to see about the murders.” “You?” He asked and felt like he was looking at me when he said it. I felt like I was in middle school again.”D.C. Our Assistant Director assigned us.” Dean answered. “Oh, which AD?” “Mike Kaiser.” “What are your badge numbers?” He asked. “You're kidding, right?” “Dean he's just doing his job here you can call our AD and we can sort this out maybe we can even work together.” I said the words before I could even register them. No, I don't want Nick to be around us to find out that we’re not real FBI agents, but I can't stop talking. 

I handed him the card and he took it out of my hand, but he also grabbed it slowly and I got pulled a little with it. He went over to the corner to call our “AD” aka Bobby cooking. While they both turned to me. “Y/n are you serious right now?”  Sam said to me. I get upset at that. “What you Dean are the only ones allowed to date. Is it because he's a real agent and that he's threatening your power.” I said to them, and they were both shocked I was a little too. “No of course not-” “Good then he can help us and don't worry I won't let him really know what's really going on I'm not Dean of how he bangs a girl for a couple months and then tells the family secret to.” I finished referring to Cassie from a couple years ago who Dean really did love. I knew that was a bitch thing to say but for some reason I didn't really care at that moment. “Y/n -” “I'm sorry, guys.” Nick said, walking back to us. “That's okay Nick you were just doing your job.” I said, smiling softly. As my brothers stood there both were wondering what was going with their sister. “Where are you at with this?” He asked us. 

“Where are you at with this?” Dean asked trying to suss out how much Nick really knew. “Well, I was just about to run the, uh, perps' bloodwork.” I jumped again at the opportunity to talk to him. “We we’re too great minds think alike huh? But it turns out to be a dead end sadly.” “Oh yeah? But get this. I feel like I found something that, uh, connects all the murderers.” “Oh my gosh, that is so smart Nick.” “Thank you Y/n. Get this they were all banging strippers.... from the same club.” “You don't say!” Dean said with a sarcastic undertone. “What do you say we, uh, go down there and check it out?” “YES, I mean yes we definitely should investigate.” I said getting closer to him. “Well, here's the thing, Nick. See, we're kinda lone wolves…” Dean starts to say but Sam stops him. “You know what, that sounds like an excellent idea. Just... just give me a second with my partner and we'll, uh...one sec. Come here.” Sam brings Dean over to the corner. While Nick and I talk.

“Dude, you gotta stay with him.” Dean did not want to do that. “What?” “Keep him outta the way. Also, to keep an eye on Y/n there is something wrong with her.” They both look to Nick and I giggling up a storm and as I kept on touching Nick on the shoulder which if I do like guy, I don't do that. “Yeah, okay what are you going to do?” “I'm gonna do the blood samples.” “What the hell am I supposed to do with him?” “Just take him to the strip club...keep an eye out for the siren. Come on, Dean, just... just focus on the naked girls. You'll forget he's even there! And try to keep Y/n away from him.” Dean thought if I can as he looked over to me just staring at Nick like he was the messiah. 

Dean, Nick and I were back at the strip club and the two men currently are going off on each other of music knowledge. “Nobody's Fault But Mine.” Dean questioned. “Zeppelin recorded it in '75. It was a cover of a Blind Willie Johnson tune.” “Good job Nick” I winked at him and grabbed his hand a bit. “You Shook Me.” Nick questioned back and I answered this one. “'69, debut album, written by Willie Dixon and J.B. Lenoir.” “Nice Y/n, pretty and brains your boyfriend is a lucky man.” He said, staring at me. “Well maybe lucky for you I don't have one.” I said getting closer. Dean saw us getting closer and realized he was dropping the ball on watching me. “You know dude, for a fed you're not a totally dick.” Dean said stopping Nick and I. Nick was confused. "Aren't all of us feds?” He asked. 

The three of us were walking to the car and Nick saw the car. “All right, we're taking my ride, no complaining about the tunes.” Dean said. “No way. You drive an Impala?” I knew Nick was a cool guy and it looks like Dean is about to find out too. “It's a '67, right? It's a 327 four barrel.” wow spot on. “Yeah, actually.” Dean said confirming it surprised that Nick knew about it. “It's a thing of beauty.” When he said that he also looked at me and winked. “How the hell did you talk the Bureau into letting you drive your own wheels? “Maybe because we're fake. But Nick doesn't need to know that.

“Yeah, I know, I just...you know, not a lot of feds are as cool as us, huh?” Smooth Dean smooth. “So, what the hell with this case, man? How does a girl talk four different johns into murder?” Nick asked Dean and not really me. “It's a crazy world.” “I guess. Hey, can I level with you?” He asked. “I found something kinda weird.” “Well. You have bought your weird to the right spot. Lay it on me.” “I went to the crime scene this morning. Saw them bagging this up.” He showed us this evidence bag with flower petals in it. “So, I went back, uh, through all the files. It turns out a flower just like that was found at every crime scene.” It looked familiar. “Like it was left on purpose?” Dean questioned. “You know, sometimes a serial killer will leave an object behind, like a calling card. But with this case? Tell you the truth, I got no idea what's going on.” “I think I might. I've seen a flower like this before.” He said getting up to go into Cara, but I didn't care all I cared about was Nick at that moment. 

“Why don't we get out of here.” Nick said, standing up holding out his hand for me to take. We ended up in this little cafe and we talked fully for those two hours, and he seemed really into the same things I like. He started to lean closer and closer and was looking at my lips, but my nerves got in the way. “Uh sorry Nick I will be right back.” As I walked to the restroom, I did not see his expression change from a smile to an annoyed one. I walked to the restroom and locked it and went to the mirror. “You got this y/n you are amazing.” 

“Y/n? Let's go” “You got this it's just research and plus Nick might need help right Nick?” “Most definitely I could use the help.” I giggled at him again. Dean didn't have time to deal with this.”Alright you know what Y/n meet us at the room in two hours okay.” “Okay” I answered not even looking at him. 

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As I finished my sentence, I saw something I was not expecting. “Cas?’” I turned around to say something instead he came up close and suddenly I was in a random field. “CAS WHAT THE HELL?” I yelled at him. He didn't say anything as he came close and touched my forehead and it was like a fog had lifted. “Oh my gosh what happened to me?” He replied. “You were under a pre love spell.” He said so casually. “A pre-love spell, what does that even mean?” “It means the siren that you were so close to almost had you completely under his control.” “Nick?” I asked and he nodded his head. “That scaly Motherfucker.” “Wait, how did you know?” I asked him. “Were you following me?”  “I was” “Why?” “I sensed you were in trouble.” I couldn't even figure that out because I was covered in that love fog. “Thanks, you really are a guardian angel.” “I was just doing my job.” 

“Yeah, Cas for a job that's pretty amazing. I guess I'm pretty lucky to have an angel as a friend.” I said finishing and smiling. “Friend?” “Well to me you are, you keep saving me and listening to me that's what friends do Cas.” “Right friends” He said and looked happy? “The siren! I have to worn Sam and Dean.” “Send me back.” He hesitated not wanting to send me back to danger, but he knew I would get there one way or another. He came up to me and before holding up his fingers and said, “Just be careful” That made me happy that he cared to tell me that. “Don't worry I always am.” He then put his fingers back on my forehead and I was back at the motel.  

I went straight to our room calling Dean and then Sam because they were not answering. “Dean, pick up your damn phone, the siren is Nick! Be careful.” I walked in the room and as soon as the door closed, I had a pair of arms run into me. “Daaa!” I was struggling to see you had me pinned then I saw Nick walk in front of me. “Y/n where did you go? We were about to get to the fun part of our date.” I looked to the side and just saw Sam standing there. “Sam! Help!” Nick laughs at me. “Ohh Y/n your brothers won't lift a finger unless I tell them to” I then looked behind me and it was Dean who was holding me back. “So, you just come in and home wreck everyone into murdering their loved ones.” “I give those guys what they want. I just lift the blind and give them permission to do what they always wanted to do. And I got what I wanted, your brothers.” “Sam why don't you give your sister a nice punch not on the face though I don't want it too damaged.” Sam walked in front of me and punched me in the stomach as Dean held me.

“Uhhh” I wanted to fall from the impact, but I couldn't. “Your brothers are mine Y/n” “You poisoned them.” “No Y/n I gave them what they wanted as it looks different for each person. What you want no crave is love. I mean I have never seen a person fall harder for me. You must not never have been in love don't worry you will be in a minute. Dean hold her up right and Sam hold her mouth open.” They did without being told twice. I try to fight it but it's impossible because of how strong my brothers were put together. Nick opens his mouth wide and squirts his toxin in mine. I am let go and drop to the ground. “Now why don't we get back to that kiss sweetheart.” Nick said getting closer as I punched him right in his kisser. “You can take that kiss and shove it up your ass sweetheart.” He goes to touch his face and finds blood.

“Okay bitch how did you do that you not human or something?” “As far as I'm concerned One hundred percent.” “Ha okay that was some good entertainment thanks. Boys, why don't you kill her and then you two will fight to the death and whoever wins gets to be with me forever.” Wait what? Oh shit. They start to circle me. “Little Y/n/n the bane of our existence. I mean Sam and I have always had to hold your hand through everything. It's pathetic right Sammy.” “Yeah, Dean I mean we would have such a better life if she wasn't here.” “Then let's take care of her.” Dean said running at me. I dodge it good thing they taught me to fight men two times their size. Somehow, I got knocked out by one of them. “Y/n Y/n!!!” I was being shaken awake. It was Bobby. I was confused. “Bobby what happened?” I said and standing behind Bobby were my two brothers looking Sad.

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It was the next day, and no one was really talking. Bobby came from his car handing us sodas as in telling us he was happy that we were okay well physically. “Thanks, Bobby. You know, if you hadn't shown up when you did…” Sam said not wanting to finish his sentence. “Done the same for me, more than once. Course, you coulda picked up the phone. Only took one call to figure out that Agent Nick Munroe wasn't real.” Yeah, not real neither was he liking me. “You guys gunna be, OK?” I didn't say anything. I was hurt not just from the fight. “Y/n?”

“Mmhh of course always am.” I was lying to myself, and everyone knew it. “See ya.  You know, those sirens are nasty things. That it got to you, that's no reason to feel bad.” He got in his car and drove away wishing I was with him. “You gunna say goodbye to Cara?” Dean asked Sam apparently, they had got into a different type of research. “What's the point?” “Well, look at you. Love 'em and leave 'em.” “Y/n, look, you know we didn't mean the things we said back there, right? That it was just the siren's spell talking?” “Yeah, me too.” It was more silence like we knew we were all lying. “'Kay. So... so we're all good?” Sam said, looking at both of us because he and Dean had their own nasty fight. “Yeah, we're good.” Another lie. 

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That was it, I hoped you liked it! Wow this chapter was a lot more intense than my others and we didn't get much Cas because I thought it should be a more sibling relationship chapter, but I still got a scene of him caring and maybe a little jealous because CAS. The name I used for the fake agent's name was ode to Diana Ross like how Sam and Dean do classic singers all the time. I'm trying to progress Y/n’s and Cas’s relationship not too fast and not too slow so hopefully I'm dealing with that okay. I'm so excited we are just getting closer and closer to the season finale which is crazy. As always thank you for reading and the likes. If anyone wants to be added to the tag list, just ask nicely in the commits.

@vfandom hope you liked it!

[scoobydoodean]

ELEANOR: The demon I could've handled, but when the angel stepped in, I - I told him, Bobby. They have enough to crack Purgatory wide open.

Cas pops in right after Elenor dies from the torture Crowley and Cas inflicted on her. Cas immediately shifts the blame onto Crowley even though Eleanor said he was the real terror.

CASTIEL: I'm sorry this had to happen. Crowley got carried away. BOBBY: Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley you son of a bitch!

Sam and Dean have to hold Bobby back. He and Eleanor had a romantic relationship in the past.

Dean again appeals to Cas's conscience (or rather, his lack of one):

DEAN: You don't even see it, do you? How totally off the rails you are!

This season, Dean has seen Cas torture a child. Cas has used Dean without permission as bait and for a spell. Cas knew Crowley was forcing Sam and Dean to work for him after a certain point and allowed it to continue until he couldn't anymore because they were going to kill each other. Cas killed Lenore simply because trying to convince her to just lay low for a while was too inconvenient. Last episode, Balthazar told Sam and Dean that Cas's plan relied on Cas being able to sustain the energy of all the souls he planned to consume, and there was a high likelihood he'd fail and blow up the world. Balathazar tells Cas this too, but Cas's only reponse is too demand Balthazar's loyalty without ever addressing his concern. He ignores it because it doesn't support his narrative of how this will all go—how Cas needs it to go. Cas has abandoned so many of his convictions at this point just to prove that he was right to go down this path to begin with. He just tortured someone to the point of death and he's about to do more.

CASTIEL: Enough! I don't care what you think.

And yet lying to them all season was explicitly because he did care what they thought. He knew they wouldn't like what he was up to. He knew Balthazar wouldn't like it either and lied to him too, and to Rachel and the other angels. All because he was ashamed.

CASTIEL: I've tried to make you understand. You won't listen.

This is code for "I told you how things would go and that there was no discussion to be had and you didn't fall in line". Now the threats:

CASTIEL: So let me make this simple. Please, go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again. DEAN: Well, good, 'cause I think you already know the answer. CASTIEL: I wish it hadn't come to this.

No one is making him do this. What he's about to do is a choice he is making that no one is forcing him to make. Even if he wanted Sam and Dean out of his way, he could have done any number of things other than this. In fact, he could have done other things that were arguably much more effective. He only needed to delay them for 24 hours. He could have flown them to the other side of the world and left them there. He could have locked them in a prison. He could have knocked them unconscious. He could have even made them forget, which would have also been cruel, but it would have been more effective. But the path he chooses is breaking Sam's mind.

CASTIEL: Well rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down.

Whereas in the previous episode, we can reasonably argue that Cas's words come out wrong and he doesn't actually mean to imply that he'll save Lisa only if Dean does as Cas tells him to do, in this case... we can't argue that. He is explicitly telling Dean that he's going to destroy Sam's mind, and that Sam's mind will remain broken even after all of this is over if Dean doesn't do as he's told.

Cas is trying—not as effectively as he knows how, but rather as cruelly as he knows how—to bring Dean to heel. He chooses this action even though it's arguably less effective than other things he could do because he wants to not just control but also punish Dean for disloyalty and disobedience. Dean returned Sam's soul behind Cas's back after Cas told him not to in 6.10 with ulterior motives. Breaking Sam's mind in this specific way is another way of proving that Cas is right and that Dean should have listened to him. Cas makes the thing he was worried would happen—happen to punish Dean for not listening to him. It's honestly incredible that their relationship recovered, especially with all the personal experiences Dean has with angels specifically trying to force him to comply with their demands via force and threats.

[starsreminisce]

i was revisiting some os lucien's lines and at the end of acotar seems like rhysand grew fond of him, did u get the same feeling or am i going mad?

If you're going mad, nonnie, then so am I because I really don't believe in the Rhys slander that he hates Lucien. I feel that Rhys is disappointed with Lucien in ACOMAF because Rhys saw how Lucien stood up to him and Amarantha for Feyre but not towards Tamlin, even though we know more about Lucien's situation with Tamlin and how it's more complicated than that.

Rhys carries big grudges towards those who didn't do the right thing with Feyre and had a huge problem with Nesta for not stepping up as the eldest child, perceiving her as someone who should have taken more responsibility.

“I knew things were bad,” Rhysand said with quiet rage, barely audible over the freezing bite of the wind and rain, “but I thought Lucien, at least, would have stepped in.” “I thought so, too,” I said, my voice smaller than I intended.

ACOSAF shows Rhys's thought process regarding Lucien's loyalty to Tamlin, who he once saw as a kindred spirit before being betrayed. Rhys's biggest hangup was how he felt Lucien should have done more to help Feyre, but after visiting Tamlin, he realized that Lucien had done what he could. Rhys knew Tamlin's anger would be his downfall and how his visit would trigger that.

He didn't realize that Lucien would have been the outlet for that anger until Lucien brought it up to Feyre, for which Rhys apologized. While it wasn't explicitly spelled out, Rhys went from not wanting to forgive Lucien to realizing the aftermath of Feyre and Lucien leaving and how Lucien was in that environment, to witnessing Tamlin lashing out at Lucien for something Rhys did. Lucien reminded them of their positions, showing they couldn't afford to ignore Tamlin's position either.

Quotes under the cut.

ACOSF presents challenges, Lucien appears to be following the same directives, yet Rhys and Lucien have been having private meetings concerning Tamlin and the Spring Court. Even Azriel acknowledges that Lucien is the most suitable person to stabilize the Spring Court. Perhaps Rhys and Lucien's conversations extend beyond these matters, leading Mor to express doubts about fully trusting Lucien's perspectives on humans.

This could be due to Lucien's stance on the power dynamics between High Fae and lesser beings, which he might challenge Rhys on during their discussions.

Rhys and Feyre also invited Lucien to see Nesta's training and extended an invitation for him to join in the more intimate Solstice gathering and Starfall. They keep Lucien around when it would be easier to write him off, especially if SJM wasn't planning an Elucien endgame.

A lot of SJM's choices lean towards Rhys and Cassian being accepting of their future brother-in-law, and Lucien moving past his preconceptions to interact more authentically with them.

Also, this line just gave me chills about Lucien and Rhys battling together, given what we know about Lucien being the heir.

If Rhys was a flying terror crafted from shadows and cold moonlight, Helion was his daytime equivalent. Gold feathers and shredding claws and feathered wings— Together, my mate and the High Lord of Day unleashed themselves upon Hybern.

But, yes, it's harder to fully understand without being in their perspective, but I do believe Rhys and Lucien get along much better than people give them credit for. We'll learn more about how Lucien's friendship with Feyre and Rhys evolved when it's time for his book.

Thank you for asking!

ACOSAF Chapter 5

Rhys said at last, “I can stomach being around him.” “I’m sure he’d love to hear that thrilling endorsement.” A half smile that had me walking toward him, stopping between his legs. He braced his hands idly on my hips. “I can let go of the taunts,” he said, scanning my face. “And the fact that he still harbors some hope of one day reuniting with Tamlin. But I cannot let go of how he treated you after Under the Mountain.” “I can. I’ve forgiven him for that.” “Well, you’ll forgive me if I can’t.” Icy rage darkened the stars in those violet eyes.

ACOSAF Chapter 11

Though the great oak doors were undeniably worse for wear. Deep, long claw marks had been slashed down them. Standing on the top step of the marble staircase that led to those front doors, I surveyed the brutal gashes. My money was on Tamlin having inflicted them after Feyre had duped him and his court. But Tamlin’s temper had always been his downfall. Any bad day could have produced the gouge marks. Perhaps today would produce more of them.

Tamlin didn’t speak, didn’t offer any explanations for the vacant house. For the rooms we passed, some of the carved doors cracked open enough for me to behold the destruction inside. Shattered furniture, shredded paintings, cracked walls. Lucien had not come here to make amends during Solstice, I realized as Tamlin opened the door to the dark library. Lucien had come here out of pity. Mercy.

Hunting for dinner—because there were no servants here to make food. Or buy it. I couldn’t say I felt bad for him. Only for Lucien, once again stuck with being his crony.

ACOSAF Chapter 18

I studied the jacket he wore. I’d seen it before. Back in— “Tamlin sent it to our manor yesterday,” Lucien hissed. “My clothes. My belongings. All of it. He had it sent from the Spring Court and dumped on the doorstep.” Bastard. Still a bastard, despite what he’d done for Rhys and me during that last battle. But the blame for that behavior was not on Tamlin’s shoulders alone. I’d created that rift. Ripped it apart with my own two hands. I didn’t quite feel guilty enough to warrant apologizing for it. Not yet. Possibly not ever. “Why?” It was the only question I could think to ask. “Perhaps it had something to do with your mate’s visit the other day.” My spine stiffened. “Rhys didn’t involve you in that.” “He might as well have. Whatever he said or did, Tamlin decided he wishes to remain in solitude.” His russet eye darkened. “Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male.” “I can’t say I’m particularly sorry that he did.” “You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.” I didn’t want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. “My business with him is done.” “Yours might be, but Rhys’s isn’t. And you’d do well to remind your mate of that fact.” A pulse down the bond, as if in answer. Everything all right? I let Rhys see and hear all that had been said, the conversation conveyed in the blink of an eye. I’m sorry to have caused him trouble, Rhys said.

ACOSAF Chapter 23

“Your dinner is leaking,” I told him by way of greeting, nodding toward the mess gathering on the floor. No reply. The High Lord of Spring didn’t so much as look up at me. Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male. Lucien’s words to Feyre yesterday had lingered. Perhaps it was why I’d left Feyre to explore the new paints Azriel had given her and winnowed here.

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope

~ Chapter 6~

Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester save a young woman —Natalie Johnson, from a coven of witches who are after her deceased grandmothers spell book. At first Dean doesn’t trust her, will he ever? Natalie is just simply a woman who gets roped up in the supernatural world from a mistake her grandmother made.

Pairing: Dean x OX

Warning: Age gap, slow burn, smut (in the later chapters), language, gore.

Word Count: 1,117

A/N: Y’all are lucky I’m up early cause I can’t sleep. And it’s Fall Break so I have more time on my hands! ;) Happy reading! ♥️

The Next Day:

Dean Winchester sat at the kitchen table of the bunker, staring at a blank spot on the wall. His hands rested on the table, motionless, as his mind spiraled through memories, one after another—like old wounds that refused to close.

He thought of his dad, the way John Winchester had pushed him and Sam into this life, driven by revenge and a mission that was never really theirs to begin with. Then, his mom—twice taken from him. First as a child, then again as an adult after they'd been given a sliver of time to know her, only for it to be ripped away.

Bobby. His gruff, surrogate father who had taught him and Sam more about family than their own dad ever had. Benny, the vampire who had become a brother in purgatory, only to be left behind when Dean couldn't save him. Kevin, the prophet who was too young and too pure for the chaos that their lives brought, gone because Dean couldn't protect him.

Then, there was Charlie. Her loss hit differently—like a knife twisted in his gut. She was family too, and he had failed her. He failed her like he had failed so many others.

He thought of Lisa and Ben. For a while, he thought maybe he could have had a normal life with them. But that was never in the cards for him, and he'd let them go to protect them. But losing them still hurt.

Hell, even Cas and Jack, though alive, felt like losses too. They weren't around anymore—at least not in the way they used to be. Cas was off restoring Heaven, distant, and Jack... Jack had become something more, someone untouchable, someone far removed from the kid who'd just wanted to fit in.

Dean was tired. Tired of losing, tired of being the one left behind.

The heavy weight of it all pressed down on him, threatening to smother him, when the sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't move, didn't look up, but the footsteps were familiar.

Natalie.

She didn't say anything at first. Dean heard the soft scrape of a plate sliding across the table, and when he glanced down, there was a piece of meatloaf, homemade, with mashed potatoes and some green beans.

"You need to eat," she said simply, her voice soft but firm. She stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed, watching him.

Dean hadn't even realized how long it had been since he'd last eaten. His stomach growled in protest, but he ignored it. "I'm fine," he muttered, his eyes still distant, unfocused.

Natalie shook her head, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down. "No, you're not. You haven't eaten all day." She offered him a small smile, pushing the plate a little closer. "It's homemade. I'm not a chef or anything, but... it's not from a can, so that's something."

Dean glanced at the plate, then back at her, his expression unreadable. "Since when do you cook?"

Natalie shrugged, her smile softening. "Had to learn eventually. I can't survive on bunker rations forever."

He grunted, pushing the food around the plate with his fork but not really eating. His mind still lingered on everything he'd lost, everyone he couldn't save. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable, until Natalie broke it.

"I don't know everything that's going on in your head," she said, her voice careful, "but I do know that you can't keep going like this. Skipping meals, getting lost in your thoughts, bottling everything up—it's not helping anyone. Least of all you."

Dean stabbed at the mashed potatoes, not looking up. "Yeah, well... not much helps these days."

Natalie frowned, watching him. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of all the pain he carried. She'd only been in his life for a short while, but she could tell Dean was someone who internalized everything, who felt like it was his responsibility to shoulder the burden, to carry the weight of all the losses alone.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know," she said gently. "I know you think you do, but... you don't."

Dean let out a bitter chuckle, finally looking up at her. "Yeah, well, that's the problem, isn't it? Every time I try to let someone in, they end up dead or gone. Doesn't exactly make me want to keep getting close to people."

Natalie's eyes softened. "Dean, it's not your fault."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Isn't it? Bobby, Charlie, Kevin, even Cas and Jack... I've let them all down. Every single one of them."

Natalie stared at him for a long moment, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. She could see that he was drowning in guilt, in grief, but she wasn't going to let him stay there. Not without a fight. She didn't know who they were, but she knew Dean enough to know he shouldn’t carry that guilt.

"Dean," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "you didn't let anyone down. You've done more to protect people than anyone could ever ask for. You've saved lives—countless lives. And I know you don't want to hear this, but sometimes... you can't save everyone."

Dean clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening. "Yeah, well, that's the part that keeps me up at night."

Natalie sighed, leaning forward slightly. "I get that. I really do. But if you keep holding onto that guilt, it's going to destroy you. And, Dean... you deserve better than that."

For a moment, Dean didn't respond. He just sat there, staring at the plate of food she'd put in front of him, his mind racing with memories of everyone he'd lost, everything he'd failed to do. But then, slowly, he picked up his fork and took a bite of the meatloaf.

It wasn't the best meal he'd ever had, but it was warm, and it was real. And it was something he needed, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"Not bad," he muttered after a few bites, his voice softer now, less defensive.

Natalie smiled faintly, watching him eat. "Glad you like it."

Dean didn't say anything else, but the silence between them was different this time. Less tense. He still had a mountain of guilt to work through, and he didn't know if he ever really would. But for now, with a plate of homemade meatloaf in front of him and someone who actually gave a damn sitting next to him, it felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely alone.

And for Dean, that was enough for now.

[thebiggerbear]

Hi! For the WIP game, can I ask about “real or not real”?

Hi, Battie! 😊

Of course you can, thank you so much for asking!

So "real or not real" is a bit of an SPN-esque AU with Dean and an Angel!Reader for certain events of the show. I'm keeping Castiel in there but also adding that dynamic after a recent rewatch of season 15.

I have a little snippet actually 😊:

Dean approached and immediately interrupted. “Agent, can I borrow you for a second?” He didn’t even bother addressing the complaints that were then thrown his way; he simply ignored everyone and gave you a sharp look, heading off down a hallway that was lined with lockers. You watched as he made a right into a classroom, giving you one last glance over his shoulder as he did.

“Agent, are you listening?” A balding man in front of you snapped. “People are starting to go missing. Isn’t that your job? To go find them and make sure we’re all safe? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“I am listening and I understand,” you soothed. “I’m going to look into it the minute my partner is finished giving me an update. Please excuse me.” He scoffed as you walked away, turning to complain to his neighbors who shook their heads at your departing back. You didn’t pay attention to it though; Dean was your priority right now.

Even if you hadn’t seen where he had gone, you would have been able to find him in a heartbeat just by what radiated off of him alone. Pain, anger, unprocessed grief, and the biggest one of them all: despair. 

You stepped into the room and shut the door behind you. When you turned, you found him sitting on the edge of the desk, staring over at you, his jaw tight. “What’s wrong?”

He snorted and you immediately knew that had been the wrong question to ask. “What’s wrong? Let’s see, Jack is dead; a demon is wearing his body like a damn t-shirt; the world is ending again; Rowena is eyeing up Ketch like a steak while people are being possessed and killed by Hell’s Most Wanted; we have the whole town rounded up like cattle in this place just waiting to be slaughtered by said ghosts; Sam has an injury that can’t be healed; Cas is…Cas; the warding from that damn spell is fading, and, that’s right, Chuck’s been pulling the strings all along, he’s the baddest of the bads, and none of this is real. So take your pick.”  

You carefully made your way over to him. You knew he wasn’t really angry with you; you knew exactly what was bothering him. It was bothering you, too. You may not be a human but now all of creation had come into question. The Winchesters had been alive for decades, fighting the good fight, their lives — their family — having been sacrificed in the service of that fight. Was all of it for naught? You had existed for over a millennia, longer even, fighting for Heaven and serving it as you had been made for. Had all of that been for naught, too?

It's not much but I'm having so much fun writing it. Thank you so much for the ask!!! 💖💖

(dividers by @firefly-graphics)