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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

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Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues.

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is.

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’.

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns.

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies.

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow-

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we? “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again.

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore.

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that.

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit."

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it.

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀᴛᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage.

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them.

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?"

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?"

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull.

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

It doesn't stop the panic.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life.

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught. He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles.

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands.

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it’s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door.

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass.

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..."

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away.

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late.

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower.

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires.

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels.

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what… I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified. I want this. I want you.

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better.

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real.

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too.

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this.

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and…

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful.

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test.

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch.

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt.

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants.

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this.

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic.

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes. He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again.

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away.

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den. “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody."

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone.

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

76 notes · View notes

buckyscrystalqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Little Soul Mate

Pairings: Crowley x Reader, Crowley x Age Regressed Reader

Warnings: Swearing??? IDK I put it for everything. Age regression.

Word Count: 4,597

A/N: So this story is a paused fic I have had in my files for two years that doesn’t really have a set ending because I couldn’t come up with anything else. I just want to give y’all some more content I guess. Enjoy.

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

Terrified didn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling. You sat as deep into the corner of your apartment complex’s laundry room as physically possible as something monstrous clawed at the thankfully steel doors to get to you. Your two personalities raged in your brain, as tears streamed down your face. You tried to scream for help but the sound caught in your throat each time. You managed to squeak out ‘Daddy’ for a man that hadn’t existed in your life in months as the monster finally burst through the door. You closed your eyes, and curled up into yourself a little more as the beast lunged toward you before a gun shot rang out through the room.

You continued to sob and shake as the beast landed at your feet, spraying blood from the hole in his jugular across your baby Tigger slippers, your jean overalls, and the orange long sleeved, off shoulder sweater shirt you had on. You could barely hear someone ask if you were alright as adult you sobbed and slowly slipped away, and little you screamed in your mind in sheer terror, but you yelped when someone touched your knee. Your head whipped back and forth as you began to rock and beg your daddy to come back.

“What’s she saying?” Dean asked his brother as the pair of them watched you cover your ears. Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“We gotta get her out of here.” Sam said as he looked at the werewolf at his feet.

“Dude. She’s fucking crazy.” Dean said as he kicked the beast with the toe of his boot.

“She was just attacked by a fucking werewolf, of course she’s a little crazy.”

“Are you lot really going to just stand around with your thumbs up your asses all bloody day?” Crowley asked as he leaned in the door way, always up for annoying the boys. His eyebrows cocked as he looked at you, huddled in the corner. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Don’t know.” Dean said as he pocketed his gun. “Found her like this.” The King’s brow furrowed as he took a step closer to hear what you were mumbling. His brow furrowed further as he listened to the conflicting yet parallel thoughts in your head, and he quickly made the wolf disappear, as a need to comfort filled his twisted soul for the first time in decades.

“I’ve got her, boys.” He said as he came over and crouched down in front of you. “Hello, little one.” He said softly as Sam and Dean cleared out. “What’s wrong?” You shook your head as your pleas for help fell silent on your lips. “Alright. How about you come with me, and we can get you out of those filthy clothes. I don’t think Tigger appreciates the yuck, does he?” You shook your head again and looked up at him through your lashes with a sniffle. He smiled at you and held out his hand, patiently.

“I’m scared.” You whispered as you looked over at the broken door. “It’s scary.”

“I know it is.” Crowley agreed with a nod. “But I promise, I can protect you from that mean, scary beast.” You were so terrified, the concept of trusting this man at face value with your deepest, darkest secret didn’t even cross your mind. Very slowly, you reached out and slipped your blood splattered hand into his. “There’s a good girl. How about we go find a cup of milk and some cartoons, huh?”

“Chocolate?” You whispered as he pulled you to your feet.

“That sounds wonderful, little one.”

——

Crowley watched you in awe as you sat on the floor of your pastel pink spare bedroom, coloring in a ‘My Little Pony’ coloring book, surrounded by stuffed animals to keep you safe. He pushed himself back and forth in your rocking chair, trying to figure out just why he, a soulless, narcissistic prick, gave a damn about the strange woman in front of him. He wasn’t any sort of caregiver; nothing like the man that you had been crying for in the basement. He also wasn’t a complete asshole like that man either. But he couldn’t help but consider the idea. But how he would go about being a caregiver in his position?

“Look it!” You said, pridefully as you picked up the book, and showed it to him.

“You did that?” He asked as he stopped rocking, and leaned forward in the chair. “That’s incredible!”

“That’s Pinkie Pie.” You said as you scooted toward him, and pointed out the characters. “And that’s Applejack. See, she’s here, too!” You said, excitedly, as you handed him the book, and grabbed the stuffed animal version of your drawing from the pile. “She’s my favorite pony.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Applejack.” Crowley said with a smile as he reached out, and shook the stuffed animal’s leg before he even thought the action through.

“She likes you.” You said as you sat back on your heels in front of him, and looked at your pony. “She thinks you seem trustable. She didn’t…” You said before your voice fell off. You bit your lip, and tears welled in your eyes as your adult brain tried to protect your innocent little side from the memory of your ex.

“Little one.” Crowley said as he leaned forward, and rested his arms on his knees. “How’s about I put a movie in for you before you take a nap. Since I know you’re safe, I’ll leave you here for now. And, tomorrow, we can go out to dinner to get to know each other. Big or Little you, I’m fine with both.” You nodded your head slowly as the adult in you took over for a moment.

“Is that thing coming back?” You whispered as you looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

“I swear to you, you are safe. I know my word means nothing yet but it’s the truth.” He reached out, and very gently wiped away your tears. You whispered ‘OK’ and nodded against his palm. “Alright, little one. Let’s see what cute pajamas you have.”

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

Crowley sat on his throne, ignoring the rambling demon in front of him as he responded to little you and your unbelievable facts about orcas (because there was no way a whale weighed a gazillion tons) and big you regarding dinner plans that night. In less than twenty four hours, you had some how weaved your way into every inch of his brain. A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as Little sent another photo, introducing him to Perry the Porg (whatever a porg was. Looked more like a penguin to him), when Sam’s caller ID photo popped up on his screen. He sighed and stood up, walking out of his throne room in the middle of his minion’s sentence.

“What d’you want, Moose?”

“Hey, we’re trying to wrap up here in town. Did you give that girl the speech?”

“I’m taking care of it.” Crowley said as he glanced at his phone and the text from you about your hesitation on going out for dinner.

“It’s no big deal.” Sam said. “We’re cleaning up now, and we can head over…”

“I said I fucking have it!” He snapped! “What part of that fucking sentence do you not understand?” He hung up the phone and pulled up your texts with a shake of his head. He waited a few minutes, sending you a couple more texts to make it appear that he was ‘driving over’ before transporting himself to your apartment. He made sure that he had a different tie on than the night before, and that the scent of sulfur was gone from his suit before knocking on your door. He huffed a laugh when he heard your small squeal, and took a step back to wait for you to open the door.

“You made it.” You said with a smile as you pulled on the side of your knee length, black dress. “Come in!”

“You look amazing, kitten.” He said as he stepped into your apartment. “You ready to go?” You nodded your head slightly.

“You’re sure it’s safe?” You asked as you looked at the open door.

“I promise you. It’s safe.” He reassured as he held out his arm for you. You nodded and took it hesitantly but with every step you took toward the door, your grip tightened. You made it to the threshold when the twisted face of your neighbor running toward you stopped you cold, and sent your mind reeling.

“No.” You said as you put on the breaks, and dug your heels into the carpeted floor. “No, I can’t. Daddy, please! Please!”

“OK. OK.” Crowley said as he moved in front of you and gently pushed you a step back into your place. He shushed you softly, and pushed your apartment door closed as you burst into tears. “Hey, you’re alright, kitten.”

“He’s gunna come back.” You gasped with a frantic shake of your head. “He’s coming…”

“Little love.” He cooed as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your shaking body into his chest. “Breathe for me.”

“I can’t.” You gasped. Crowley nodded and slowly walked you back to your couch.

“Alright, here we go. Sit down for me.” You nodded and let him lead you into a seat. He sat down beside you with a sigh, wondering briefly just how Sam and Dean dealt with people after they learn about the supernatural on a regular basis. “There’s my girl. I was in the mood for a nice slice of pizza anyways. So we stay inside for our first date.” He smiled and ran his hand down your leg to take off your heels with a smile. “My vote is for peppers and mushrooms.” Your nose scrunched as he tossed your shoes aside, and pulled your legs across his lap.

“Eww.” Crowley laughed as he grabbed one of your many blankets from the shelf under your coffee table and spread it out across your lap.

“So what does my little girl want then?” He asked as he wrapped the blanket around you.

“Cheese.” You whispered as you took the offered handkerchief from Crowley.

“Cheese it is.” He agreed. “I’ll place the order, while you find something on TV. Then we’ll talk after, alright?” You nodded your head as he passed you the remote before pulling out his phone to get one of his minions to pick-up a pizza for him. He smiled to himself as you scooted down on the couch beside him, and pulled up ‘Captain America: Civil War’. You set your remote aside and reached out to hold the side of Crowley’s suit jacket like a safety blanket. Once he hung up the phone, he held his arm out so you could scoot into it.

“You’re safe with me, little one.” He whispered as he kissed the top of your head, loving the smell of your coconut shampoo. “I know I just met you, but I swear to you, you are safe.” You nodded your head and laid your head on his chest for only a moment before someone knocked on your front door.

“Already?” You asked as You sat up while Crowley pulled the blanket off your lap. You headed over to the door, grabbing the cash Crowley held out to you on the way, and took a deep, steadying breath before opening it. Your head tilted the slighted bit to the side as a very tall man with long hair turned around with no pizza in his hands. “Can I help you?” You inquired as you held onto the door a little tighter, prepared to slam it closed if the man turned out to be a beast, too.

“Hi. My name is Sam. I umm… I was there yesterday when…” You heard Crowley sigh, loudly and you glanced over at him as he got up off your couch to come over to the door.

“Fucking part of ‘I’ve fucking got it’ did you not comprehend, Moose?” He asked as he put his hand on on the small of your back. “’s’alright, love. I know him.” Sam looked between the pair of you as you took a step back and partially hid behind Crowley. “You might as well come in. Bloody pain in my ass.” He very carefully turned you around and guided you back into the apartment as Sam shut the door behind him and followed you into the living room.

“What is this?” You asked as Crowley guided you back to the couch.

“This.” He said as he turned off your TV. “Is the conversation I wanted to have after we ate. But apparently, some people are impatient.” He looked over, pointedly at Sam as he sat down on the other couch. Crowley sighed and looked back over at you, searching your (Y/E/C) eyes as he tried to find the words to say.

“(Y/N), there is no easy way to say this, but it needs to be said. There are beasts in this world. Beasts that most people believe only exist in movies. Beasts like the werewolf that tried to attack you last night… and beasts like me.” Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out just what he meant before he blinked and his eyes turned blood red. You were too stunned to move, too lost for words as Sam started to explain further. It took you a few moments as Crowley simply waited for your reaction.

“Are you gunna hurt me?” You whispered as tears welled in your eyes, not caring that Sam was talking at all.

“Never, kitten.” You nodded your head slowly as little moved your hand forward to brush your fingertips across his face beside his eye. His shoulders relaxed and he blinked his eyes back to their normal brown as Sam watched the exchange uncomfortably.

“What are you?”

“A demon.” He answered honestly. “Actually, to be more specific, the King of Hell.”

“So… doesn’t that mean your dead?”

“Technically speaking.” He said with a nod. “But a few years past, Sam and his brother tried to cure me. So I have a partial soul.” You nodded your head slowly and glanced over at Sam.

“Do you sleep?” He smirked and shrugged his shoulders as he leaned against the back of the couch.

“Not typically. But I can fall asleep if I want.”

“Don’t demons like haunt people, and throw shit?” Crowley smiled as he ran his fingertips across your knee.

“It’s our form of entertainment.” He chuckled. “But yes, I can make things move, and I can make myself invisible.” Your eyes went wide and a smile spread across your face as you shifted on the couch and crossed your legs.

“Do it! Pretty please?” With a slight nod and a huff, Crowley disappeared before your eyes. You could still feel his hand on your knee and could still see the impression of where he was sitting on the couch.

“When you’ve lived as long as I have.” His disembodied voice said as he made the vase on your table levitate. “You have to have some fun.” You gasped as the vase went flying across the room and hit Sam directly in the stomach. He grunted, and bent over double as the vase floated back to the table and Crowley reappeared with a smug smile. “Told you, I’d handle it.”

“Fuck you, Crowley.” Sam said as he got up. “I’d run, and run fast, (Y/N)…”

“Noted.” You said as someone else knocked on the door.

“I’ll see him out.” Crowley said as he picked up his money from the table. With a nod of your head, you sat back against the couch to try to wrap your head around the new news. After some yelling on Crowley’s part, he slammed your front door, and brought the pizza back for you with a smile. “It’s actually from Italy.” He said as he set it down on the table in front of you. “Perks of being the King.”

“Can I ask you something?” You said as you grabbed a slice and a tissue for a napkin. “Why would a demon show interest in someone like me?”

“Truthfully?” He said as he sat down beside you and crossed his legs. “I have no idea. Typically, I don’t tolerate people. But there’s something about you that I can’t walk away from even if I tried. And don’t ask what because I don’t have a bloody clue. You’re just something special. You’re too damn adorable.” Your face flushed and you curled into yourself as you tried to use your half eaten pizza to hide your face. “That doesn’t help your case, kitten.”

“Quit!” You whined as you poked his side with your toes. He chuckled as he reached out to rub your ankle.

“Sorry, kitten. Not possible.” You scrunched your nose at him and reached out to turn your TV back on with an embarrassed smile. You glanced over at his smiling face and turned a brighter shade of red.

“Will you quit!”

——

“She came around when I was in high school.” You said softly as you looked over at the closed spare bedroom door while leaning against Crowley’s side with your legs over his lap. “I was such a loner back then. My parents had gotten divorced the summer before my freshman year and started using me and my big sister as pawns in their divorce. It became a literal living hell and it got so bad, that my sister ran away. We haven’t seen or heard from here in years, and I got blamed for it. I didn’t know how to handle it all. So I started to regress.”

“Oh, kitten.” Crowley sighed as he brushed his hand up your shins.

“It’s OK.” You said with a shrug. “I survived it. And Little… well, she kinda just stuck around. I spend more time being little now a days than I do being big. It’s the only coping mechanism I know.”

“So what happened to your last ‘Daddy’?” He asked as he shifted a bit to see your face. You sighed deeply and ran your fingers through your hair as you met his eyes.

“Michael was an asshole. He didn’t understand the concept of caregiver and basically just wanted a sex slave. He was a sweetheart to start out with but after a few months, being little got in the way. He wanted me to support him, wanted me to take care of him.” You scoffed and shook your head as you briefly relived the last fight you had before you locked him out of your apartment. “He wanted a woman that knew her fucking place in the world. And I wasn’t having it.”

“Good for you, kitten.” He said as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I just… I had to protect the part of me that was there to protect me. It’s like a split personality but I’m aware of everything that happens in both mindsets and both mindsets are there all the time. Like now, the little half of me is singing the theme song to a classic show called ‘Popples’ on repeat. Which is annoying as hell but I just ignore it… usually. Sometime she’s insistent about it, though. And at that point, I just let her win.”

“She is quite the presence.” He chuckled. “Would you mind if I stuck around to get to know both of you? I don’t know much about this… hell, I’m not even sure I’d be good at it…”

“You would be.” You said with a nod. “Just the bit of protectiveness I’ve seen proves that.”

“Well thank you.” You nodded your head and gently pat his hand to get up to use the restroom.

“It takes a special someone to be a Daddy.” You said as you pulled the hair tie from your wrist and threw your hair up in a loose, messy bun. “It’s not for everyone.” If it was possible, Crowley’e heart stopped as he looked at the small, blob like, ‘L’ shaped birthmark on the back of your neck. It was something he never believed existed, no matter how many times he had looked at the exact same mark on his left arm for centuries on both his human body and his meat suit.

“Love, is that a birthmark?” Crowley asked as he gestured to the soul mate mark that explained everything about how he felt about you. You looked back at him as you reached back and rubbed your fingertip across the spot with a smile.

“That it is.” You said with a shrug as you paused in the doorway to the master bedroom. “I used to hate it because kids used to say it looked like a penis but I could never bring myself to have it removed. I’ll be right back. I wanna get out of this dress.” He nodded his head slowly as he reached up to absentmindedly press his thumb into his own mark.

“Well I’ll be fucking damned.”

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

“Guthrie what do you know about soulmates?” Crowley asked as he sat on his throne, scouring the internet for any sort of information on the apparently archaic concept. His second in command looked over at him from the clipboard in his hand with his eyebrows raised.

“Sir?”

“I didn’t stutter.” He said as he exited out of another webpage with useless information.

“Well sir.” Guthrie breathed as he dropped the clipboard to his side. “When I was a boy, my mother used to tell us that they were called twin flames or twin souls. It translated to a single soul, split between two people, through multiple reincarnations to gain live experience, before meeting again in their final lifetime on the planet so that they may ascend together. Soul mates are different. They are part of a family that help you grow and evolve.”

“So twin flames are the common understanding of soulmates.” Crowley clarified as he switched his search to ‘twin flames’.

“As I understand it, yes.” The King nodded his head as he added ‘mark’ and ‘lore’ to the end of his search.

“Do you believe it could be possible that flames could transcend the realm of living and dead?” Guthrie looked back up from his clipboard as Crowley closed out another useless website.

“I don’t believe so, sir. It could be possible but since most of the deceased on Earth have no soul…” Crowley nodded his head as he turned off his screen and got up from his chair.

“You’re not helping.” He said before disappearing to the library of the Bunker. Sam barely glanced up from his research as Dean threw his book down on the table.

“Damn, and I was hoping to go one fucking day without seeing your face.”

“Shut it, Squirrel.” Crowley snapped as he quickly read the book titles on the shelves before walking over to grab the book he was looking for. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance as he pulled three books off the shelf, and headed over to one of the tables.

“What uh… what are you looking for?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“None of your bloody business.” Crowley snapped as he flipped through the first lore book for the information he wanted. He stopped when he found a page referencing soul marks. He let out a small sigh of relief as he picked up the book and started to read as he walked slowly toward the archway between the map room and the library. He leaned up against the pillar and made himself a drink as he tried to soak up every ounce of information he could.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Dean asked as he got up to see what Crowley was reading. He managed to get only part of one of the titles, before the books went flying across the room.

“Don’t be a nosy prat.” Crowley said, dismissively as he closed the book he was reading and grabbed it and the two others that were floating in mid air in front of him. “I’ll return these when I’m done with them.” He barely heard Sam’s sigh as he disappeared back to his personal chambers to finish reading until you texted him when you got home from your waitressing gig.

“Makes sense.” He mumbled as he sat down in front of his fireplace, and opened the next book that involved the Greek mythology book that he assumed would be able to expand on the original knowledge he knew about soulmates. “Oh, kitten. What are we gunna do with all this?”

——

You hadn’t walked three feet into your apartment after yet another shitty day, when Crowley appeared directly in front of you. Your bottom lip popped out and tears welled in your eyes almost instantly as you dropped your purse on the ground.

“They’re just so mean.” You cried as Crowley’s heart melted impossibly more.

“Come here, little one.” He cooed as he held open his arms. You nodded your head and shuffled forward as tears spilled from your eyes. He held you tight and kissed the top of your head with a smile. “Now what happened, kitten?”

“I got fired because I refused to spend another two hours after my shift ended doing someone else’s side work. I’m sick of being pushed around there!”

“Well then it’s a good thing you got fired, then, right?” He asked as he picked you up and carried you toward your bedroom to get you changed.

“Just another fucking job I can’t fucking do.” You squeaked.

“No, kitten.” He said as he set you down beside the bed. “It’s not that you can’t do the job… arms up.” You nodded your head and put your arms in the air as he tossed your old apron out of the bedroom. “You could do the job. It just shouldn’t have been your damn job to do other people’s work.” You nodded your head and sniffled as you held onto his shoulder and stepped out of you work shorts. “That is just asinine.”

“That’s what I said.” You agreed as he grabbed one of your many, blue, oversized sweaters and a pair of cloud patterned sleep shorts from your closet.

“Well you don’t need that, princess. You deserve so much better than that. Up.” You nodded your head in agreement as you lifted your arms in the air and let him put on your sweatshirt. “I brought you something.” You smiled at him and sniffled as he pulled the hem of your sweater into place over your shorts. He stood up straight and studied you for a moment before holding out his hand and making a tiny, stuffed turtle appear in his palm. “You didn’t have a turtle…” You squealed loudly and snatched the baby from his hand before he could even finish his sentence.

“He’s so cute!” You cooed as you cuddled the turtle to your chest like a baby. Crowley smiled and reached up to brush your hair back behind your ear.

“First, he needs a name.” He said. “Then, he needs to meet his brothers and sisters, right?” You nodded your head as you followed his lead into little space, letting the anxiety of losing yet another job slip away.

“Franklin.” You said as you looked up at him. He nodded his head and smiled at you with a small huff of a laugh.

“Franklin it is.”

#Crowley x reader #Crowley x Age Regressed!Reader #Little Soul Mate

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unholyhelbig · 5 years ago

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Bechloe Prompt- Chloe's life has been slowly been falling apart, so she decides to take a month off to get her life together. Renting a cabin in the middle of the woods for a get a way from it all, she's surprised to hear that she'll have a roommate due to a mistake in the paperwork. While its only for the month and meeting someone new is great, her roommate, Beca, also has her own personal reasons and secrets to be there too.

Read on AO3

Title: A Hallmark Ending

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale

By the time the sky faded to lilac, Chloe Beale felt drunk on her own confidence. Her suitcase plowing along on the gravel path towards a quaint little cabin on the edge of a lake. A lake her father used to bring her to when it was just the two of them- before he got remarried and they would just sit in a small fishing boat in the utter silence. Splitting a peanut butter sandwich and sharing in the quiet until a fish sunk its lips around a metal hook.

Those were simpler times. Times when the world didn’t get a chance to dig its steel-toed boot right under her ribs and flex its sickly bones in her side. Like when her publisher could pull out of a book deal last minute, leaving the manuscript untouched and dusty on top of her bookcase. When she had to cave and take her old job back at a department store in the perfume department. When her car sputtered to a final stop seven blocks from her driveway.

Chloe decided that coming here was a good idea.

Getting back to her roots on the lake in a cabin that was tiny and secluded. It was only a short trip, a month away from work that her pension could cover if she timed it exactly right (and it was Chloe, so she had). A place where she could breathe in the fresh mountain air and clear her mind of everything that made it so hard to write in the city.

The cabin was tiny, a one-bedroom with a large deck around the back and a string of fairy lights that radiated once the sun ducked down behind the horizon completely. A canopy of stars and a cup of hot cocoa made her pick up her pace. There was an old beat-up truck out front, probably the landlord doing one more sweep of the place before leaving for the next thirty days.

Chloe Beale was confident because she had done this all by herself. Had decided to pull herself away from work, and hand rented a cabin similar to her childhood one- all on her own. All without the help of some greasy mechanic who overcharged her, or a terrible boss who would walk her through how to ring up every purchase.

She heard it then; the rhythmic splitting of wood, and a couple of soft grunts coming from the side of the cabin. The one facing a large row of pine trees that gave way to an extensive forest filled with creatures and plants of all shapes and sizes.

A woman- shorter by about two inches from where Chloe was standing lifted a large shining ax above her defined shoulders. Chloe stopped at the edge of the grass. She brought the sharpened edge into the center of the log, splitting it into three even pieces. It sounded like a bowling ball hitting the just the right pins before a long sweeper came and knocked down the rest.

Her brunette hair was tied into a messy bun and sweat coated strands fell into midnight eyes, completely focused on the task at hand. She had headphones in and a focused look on her face. She had sweat through her white t-shirt, dirtied with mud.

“Excuse me,” Chloe waved meekly, trying to get the woman’s attention. She tried once more “Excuse me!”

The stranger drew in a bout of air and stopped, the axe in mid-air. It glinted off the orange sun. Chloe couldn’t tell if she had worked her features into annoyance or if she generally looked like that on a normal basis. Her earbuds hung around her shoulders now, eyes sweeping over Chloe’s figure.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here.” She panted.

Chloe nodded solemnly “Are you the handyman around here?”

The stranger laughed then, light and airy and done with her entire body. She let the ax drop to her side, taking in the appearance of Chloe all together. Her fingers were neatly painted, and she wore a nice blouse. She had barely even broken a sweat.

“No, kitten, I’m renting out the place.”

“I- that’s impossible.” Chloe huffed out, the back of her neck burned. “I paid the landlord for the rest of the month. Cabin 7A.”

“Yeah, me too, and I got here first, so it looks like you’ll have to find other arrangements.”

Chloe tried to keep her composure, tried to swallow that anger down but that stupid smirking face of this… this heathen was biting back at her like a mosquito just looking to tap a vein. She reached down and piled a few pieces of chopped wood into her grasp, walking towards the front of the cabin.

“It took an entire day to get up here and I refuse to go back!” Chloe followed her, pulling that suitcase after her like a shadow.

“You’re more than welcome to stay outside if you’d like. I won’t call the sheriff on you Kitten, promise.”

She kicked open the screen door with her booted foot and set the wood next to the large stone fireplace. Everything was just like the brochure- the nice leather couches and gorgeous wood finish. There was a large set of stairs leading up to a loft and the one-bedroom the place had to offer. A moose head that Chloe could do without was situated right near the second landing, staring blankly at her.

The stranger wiped her hands down her jeans, leaving streaky marks as she let out a sigh and faced Chloe, quirking a brow at the woman who rested in the doorway. Waiting for an invitation in, one that she wasn’t going to get.

“Look, Red, I’ll call the landlord right now. We’ll get it situated.”

Chloe seemed to be happy enough with that answer as she took the last dastardly step into the place and set her suitcase by the door. She ran her fingers against the furniture, feeling the cool leather and the grooved wood as the woman called. She could hear the muffled conversation from the kitchen but not well enough.

She didn’t know where the sudden change of heart came from- but she didn’t question it. Maybe it was the deep-rooted need for both of them to not share a cabin for the next month. Especially one that only came equipped with one bedroom and not a very big bathroom. Chloe should have booked a trip to Cabo, but instead, she traded the luxury for childhood memories.

“Well, bad news and good news.” She exited the kitchen, shutting the phone off with a muted beep. “We are double-booked for the month.”

Chloe took a steady breath “And the good news?”

“You’re not the one who fucked it all up- they are.” She crossed her arms over her chest and moved that terribly cold stare from Chloe’s feet all the way to her own eyes. “But… I’ll take the couch for the first week.”

“You think I’m staying here with you?” She asked.

“Well Kitten I don’t see much of another choice. Unless you want to brave the road back to town, and I don’t see much sense in trying. There’s a big storm coming. Don’t you watch the news?”

No, she hadn’t. But she could feel the electricity sparking in the air the second she stepped off the bus at the base of the long drive. Large oak trees were swaying in the hot slight breeze, their leaves overturned to display the meek belly of green. A sign that the tides were turning and that it was best to stock up on bread, milk, and evidently firewood, that would be too soaked to ignite if she had waited any longer.

Chloe conceded and let the screen door slide shut behind her before she flopped down on the nearest leather couch. How was she supposed to get any writing done now?

“Dinner’s ready, Red.” The stranger spoke from the doorway, and Chloe’s stomach clenched. The sun had pulled behind the base of the water hours ago and the wind had picked up speed as it yowled like a wounded animal. Chloe had pooled herself at the end of the sofa, a fire warming the side of her face as she watched the flames dance across the pages of the nearest book she had pilfered.

She didn’t want to eat the stranger’s food- didn’t’ want to admit that the stew she had been cooking for the last five hours actually smelled good. It’s broth salty and contrasting to large chunks of sautéed meat and potato. But her stomach growled and tightened and she couldn’t focus on Rudyard Kipling’s words anymore.

“I promise I didn’t slip any arsenic in here.” The stranger continued “Though, I would love to have this place all to myself.”

Chloe scoffed but peeled back the blanket draped over her legs and made her way to the kitchen. It was smaller than she remembered, or maybe she was just the small one and it was always a one-lane room that forced the two of them closer together than she ever wanted to be. The woman ladled a good helping into two bowls and slid one across the island, passing Chloe a spoon.

She waited until the first bite was taken, steamy broth warming her cheeks as she watched the woman chew triumphantly. Refusing to break eye contact. “See, no poison Kitten.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of coming by it.”

The woman glared “Chloe.”

She shoved the spoon in her mouth then, taking in the sudden burst of flavor that washed over her taste buds. Chloe let the moan escape her throat without even thinking, chewing thoughtfully before getting a good look at the cocky smile that the stranger had to offer. Degrading.

“Good right? It was my mother’s recipe- but I’ve tweaked it a little.”

Chloe nodded slowly and dipped the spoon back into the bowl for another taste. “You haven’t told me your name.”

“Beca Mitchell.”

Beca Mitchell- seemed familiar in a way of passing that Chloe couldn’t quite pinpoint yet. Something she could recognize in passing. Skimming the magazines at checkout, recalling that one random fact about how fast a jellyfish could swim, or the size of an average elephant foot. She would smile at the cashier and replace the small pad of paper instead of putting it on the black belt, just like the one in front of her did, and the one behind her as well.

“I used to come up here with my father.” Chloe said after the silence “That’s the only reason I’m here. To clear my head, get some clarity for my new book- and trust me this is less than ideal for all of us.”

“Mm, you’re a writer?”

Beca didn’t’ offer up her own reason for isolating herself in a cabin for upwards of a month, though Chloe could admit that she had some questions herself. Figured that if she put her reason out on the clothesline to dangle in the wind- then maybe the stranger would follow suit. Preferably before she had to fall asleep in the same house as her.

Chloe took another bite of the stew and chewed slowly “I’d like to call myself one, yes. This year has been a little rough, the business side of things. But I’ve had my fair share of New York Times Best Sellers.”

Beca lifted her eyebrows and set her mostly empty bowl in the metal sink. “That sounds like more than a hobby, Chloe. Impressive.”

“What about you, then?” Chloe leaned forward, running her fingers over the spoon. “What brings you up to the beautiful seclusion of the forest?”

She chuckled at that, leaning both of her palms against the edge of the sink. She watched Chloe with accuracy, who watched her right back. Waiting for an answer- one that was better than a simple ‘to escape’. That she was used to giving people.

“I’m a chef. I was a chef until the restaurant I worked at burned down. They’re trying to rebuild, offered me another contract and everything.” She worked out slowly “I have it with me and I don’t know if I’m ready to sign it yet. Hence the isolation. I needed to figure things out.”

“If your stew is telling of the rest of your food, then I think you should. What’s stopping you?”

Beca’s cheeks heated from the compliment, usually something written in the newspaper or given through tight-lipped smiles of those around her. Those who cared too much about the parties and the diamonds that were around their necks and bound to their wrists.

“The luxury of a life like that,” She started, frowning down at the intricate patterns on the granite countertop. “Is overwhelming to every sense you can possibly possess. You have the people who are rich enough to act the way that they do, and those who are trying hard to get to the level that everyone else around them is at.”

“And you’re neither?”

“I’m neither.” Beca let out a small sigh “I just think that life like that- life that needs to be bathed in luxury, and fancy cuisine… I started out making cheesesteaks in a small restaurant by the beach. And I was content.”

Chloe nodded thoughtfully “I was too. Writing for the local paper, you know? Covering little stories about local businesses and bake sales. All of it was simple and beautiful.”

“What’s stopping you from going back?”

“Recognition, mostly. After I wrote that first book- I don’t know. It gained me a lot of attention, a contract that was broken because I have writer’s block. The worst type of writer’s block that isn’t spurred by a lack of inspiration. It’s the kind that has everything to do with pressure. With a lack of enjoyment.”

Beca didn’t say anything, then. She turned to face away from Chloe and started to rummage through the cabinets, not caring much for order. She produced a bottle of half-finished white wine and two mismatched mugs that had different states printed on the side.

“What are you doing?” Chloe chuckled.

“Sounds like both of us are fucked. And the only thing people who are this lost in life can do is drink.”

“That sounds like the start of a lot of my problems, not the end of them.”

Beca unscrewed the metal top, pouring a generous amount into both glasses before she shoved one across the counter to the young writer. “Yeah, well, we might as well make some use of the time we have up here. Work out what we’re going to do. Who knows, maybe you’ll find some weird type of inspiration in the… near solitude.”

Chloe grasped the baby blue mug and took even sips of the wine. It was sour and tasted flat but made her stomach feel fuzzy all the same. She watched as the chef gathered up the dishes and went to wash them in the sink. Hair falling into dark eyes and a tune hummed on her lips. Chloe thought, for just a moment, that maybe she had found inspiration somewhere.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #Bechloe fanfiction #request

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catphistopheles · 4 years ago

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I wrote a Thing. And if there is any expressed interest in this Thing, I will continue to add little installments on Tumblr. It’s a heteronormative romantic comedy, kinda tropey, but it’s something I really wanted to type out and have fun with. I’ll continue to write it even if there isn’t any interest on Tumblr, simply because I want to write it no matter what.

So without further ado, here is the first and possibly only installment of *Insert Story Name Here When I Think of a Title*

Melli glowered down at the innocuous little slip of paper that sat on top of her desk. She tapped her paintbrush impatiently on her knee , and she was so aggravated that the tapping became more and more forceful, almost painful on her kneecap.

It was a wedding invitation.

Worse, it was a wedding invitation from her best friend. The one she had been in love with for years before he fell for another woman. Anders Nilsson. The man with the clever mouth and scrappy temper, the man with the charm oozing out of him, the man with the cold steel blue eyes and the hero jaw and the perfect hair and the whiskey-on-the-rocks voice that kept her company during her divorce.

They met, as gimicky as it sounded, on a random team assignment for an online game they both played. It was chance, their meeting. One in a million chance that she’d end up on the European servers to get paired with him. Her soon-to-be ex husband at the time just so happened to buy her both the game system and the game itself (as a bribery, a sort of “Sorry I cheated on you for the eighth time, please forgive me” present) the same week Anders just so happened to buy his after leaving rehab for a drug addiction he was determined to leave behind. She and Anders clicked almost instantly, formed a solid game friendship, and eventually branched out to all sorts of games, and even conversations through a messaging app on the phone, and eventually actual phone calls, and it just kept becoming more and more intense.

She left her shitbag ex, took the game system, found an apartment in a near city with her best friend, and started freelancing as a commissioned artist to make ends meet, the whole while kindling this strong sort of attachment to Anders. Anders was always there for her. He’d call her after he left work--with the time difference, it meant she’d get a good morning phone call every day as she got out of bed. She loved it. And he knew she loved it, and so kept it up just to put a smile on her face.

Melli once mentioned she wished she could see more of Sweden with him, and the next day Anders went far out of his daily commute to surprise her with photos of all the touristy things Stockholm had to offer; old town, with its colorful squished-together houses and cobblestone roads; the many rivers and deltas and lakes around his city; the giant city square with its vastly intricate paved gathering spots. He worked in construction and showed off some of the massive skyscrapers he had a hand in building. He was proud of his work, and his city, and gladly shared these with her at the drop of a hat.

He’d stay up past midnight telling her his most intimate thoughts and secrets. They’d had really good phone sex many times, and it was sadly and ironically the best sex she’d ever had. She told him she loved him. He rejoiced and told her he loved her.

She fell hard, body and soul, for this man.

And then he fell hard, body and soul, for another woman.

It wasn’t fair. Melli had been saving up money to go to Stockholm when he broke the news that he had found a girlfriend--in fact she was three quarters of the way to her goal. She had scrimped and saved and daydreamed and planned and painted her heart out to sell as many projects as she could (while still paying her bills) to be able to afford the trip. Anders and his girlfriend had a rocky relationship--very on again, off again--and Melli had secretly and ashamedly hoped it wouldn’t last.

But then again, the invitation on her desk. You fool, It seemed to gloat at her the longer she stared at it, You fell so hard and now you’re bruised and alone. She huffed and swept it off the desk and onto the floor, bitter tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She blinked them away.

Melli prided herself on not being a bitter person. She managed to go all twenty five of her years on this planet without holding grudges, or acting on spite, or being unnecessarily cruel or mean spirited. But there’s only so much heartbreak a girl can take…

She’d have to go to the wedding, of course. This was her best friend, regardless of any heartbreak, and he’d messaged her weeks ago and asked her to attend.

“It’s really important to me, if you’re able to make it. I know it’s an expensive trip, but you’re my best friend, Mellibelle. I’d love it if you could be there on the happiest day of my life.”

He was the only person she’d let call her by her full first name. It always made her melt when he said it in that accent of his, with that whiskey voice of his, and so she’d agreed before she could so much as think up a good excuse not to attend.

It wasn’t the money, of course. She’d become quite successful as a freelance artist--pet portraits, mostly, but every now and then a local gallery would arrange a sale of her less generic works--it was the reality of finally seeing him face to face, close enough to touch and hold and kiss, only for him to be completely off limits. It would kill her.

She had to go.

“Fuck,” she murmured, and begrudgingly powered up her laptop to look at flights and hotels.

Footsteps behind her signaled her childhood friend and roommate had woken up for the day. She heard Sofia stoop to pick up the invitation and pause to read it.

“Oof,” Sofia winced, her voice rough with sleep, “Are you going?”

Sofia, of course, knew the whole sordid history between Melli and Anders. Sofia knew everything about Melli by proximity alone: they’d been friends since elementary school. Melli swiveled in her chair to level a helpless look at her friend, who opened her arms to offer a hug, and the dam broke, and Melli was crying. Sofia stepped forward and enveloped Melli into her arms.

“Ah, dear,” Sofia said soothingly, pityingly, as she gently patted Melli’s thick dark hair. “Listen, I know this is going to suck. But you’ve always been so good at making the most out of sucky situations! Why don’t you use a little more out of savings and make it a miniature vacation just for you?”

A tiny spark of promise flared in Melli’s chest. She wiped her eyes on Sofia’s sleep shirt and glanced up at her friend. “A woman alone in a foreign country? Isn’t that just asking for a Liam Neeson film?”

The feeble attempt at a joke got a snort out of Sofia.

“You’re street smart and I believe in you. Just don’t go into dark alleys, don’t talk to shifty strangers, listen to your intuition, all that good stuff. You deserve a good vacation after that wedding.” Sofia leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss onto Melli’s forehead. “Treat Yourself: Unrequited Love Edition.”

Melli wrinkled her nose, swiveling back around to open several new tabs in her browser, mind reeling with possibilities. “Ew, don’t say unrequited love. Makes me sound so woebegone. How much do you think it costs to rent a boat?”

Sofia barked out a laugh as she made her way to the kitchen. “More than what you charge for a painting. But the wedding isn’t for another month so you have plenty of time to get cracking on a few more pet portraits.” (The click of the electric kettle, followed by a yawn.) “Maybe hit up Mrs. Marchpane again. Didn’t her seventh cat just have kittens? She’d probably love a family portrait to go with the fleet she’s already commissioned. She’s so… enthusiastic.”

“Not a bad idea! You’re on a roll this morning, and all before you’ve had your tea!” cracked Melli, typing furiously into a US Dollar-to-Swedish-Krona converter. She opened another tab and started typing an email to Mrs. Marchpane.

Dear Mrs. Marchpane,

I heard the Glorious Miss Tater Tot just gave birth to seven beautiful little kittens. Are you interested in a family portrait to commemorate this joyous occasion? I can give you a special rate as a congratulations….

Melli smiled to herself, floored by the plan that was forming in her mind.

“Sofia?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I owe you so many souvenirs.”

“Bring me back a moose and we’re even.”

“Deal!”

#unrequited love #the one that got away #tropes #unrequited love trope #unrequited romance trope #pining trope #pining #unrequited pining #I'm not gonna sugar coat it this is tropey as hell but i'm being shamelessly self indulgent here with no RAGRETS #Also yes I paint pet portraits and so does the protagonist but it's not a mary sue or a self insert #i just don't know how any other job works at this point and it's the easiest thing to use lmfao #write what ya know

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luv4fandoms · 5 years ago

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Cookies with the king (spn Crowley x Reader)

Nonny requested

And I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to write some domestic Crowley, so I hope you enjoy it nonny!

If you have any ideas for some Castiel or Crowley one shots (Christmas-y themed if you'd like) feel free to request them, I'm still accepting a few 😊

Words: 2,494

Pairing: Crowely x Reader

Warning: Fluff, Crowley's charm

The faint tone of music was the first thing to hit Crowley when he appeared in the bunker, followed by the faint smell of sweets. He knew what time of the year it was, and how humans often celebrated it by cozying up to a warm fire, an all too predictable boy meets girl christmas love story playing on the tv, sweets, and ah yes, lots of drinking and family fun...lovely. Though this time of year was also good for business, lots of lonely and lost saps willing to strike up a deal for some holiday cheer. As he followed the scent and music though, he soon realized that the bunker was quite empty.

Making his way to the kitchen he gently opened the door, eyes landing on your form as you mixed together ingredients, singing softly to the music that played from your phone.

"Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore, faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more" you sang along as you placed dollops of batter onto the cookie sheet.

"Faithful friends huh? Yet you're here all alone" A rough, accented voice spoke from behind you, causing you to jump and turn around. You hadn't been expected anyone, the bunker was protected, and besides, you were just a researcher not a full hunter like the boys. But as you eyes landed on none other than the king of hell himself, your body relaxed. The relationship you and Crowley had was far less tense than the one he had with the boys, maybe it was because you appreciated his wit, even when it was aimed against Sam and Dean. Or maybe it was his charm? His voice certainty added to the mix...no you wouldn't really consider Crowley a dear friend, but he had always intrigued you.

"They had a hunt" you shrugged, turning back and finishing up the first type of cookies before putting them in the oven.

"So they left you on one of you humans most precious holidays?" He asked while making his way over to where you were setting up ingredients for a different kind of cookie. You simply shrugged.

"A hunt's a hunt...They said they would try to make it back tomorrow, after all, it's only Christmas Eve" You stated as you measured things and filled the mixing bowl. Crowley watched you in silence, truth be told he was fond of you. He wasn't sure why, maybe the way you held yourself, you weren't a hunter but you still stood your ground when you needed to. Then other times, like now, you were soft, a domestic soft that had him wanting this more often. That thought had him trying to clear his head, lest it go down the path of you living in hell with him, a loving wife and commanding queen...a thought he had been having far too often recently. His gaze moved back to you, finding you staring at him as of waiting...waiting for an answer to a question he didn't catch.

"What was that Darling?" He asked, giving you his attention. He watched your lips turn up into a soft smile before you went back to your baking.

"I had asked just what the king of hell was doing this Christmas eve? Surely you have better things than to sit around with little ole me" you stated with a light laugh, but there was a tone in your voice, so small but he caught it instantly...Loneliness.

"Perhaps I simply wanted to keep my favorite researcher company" He shrugged, truth was that he came here to find Moose and Squirrel for a business inquiry, but he wasn't about to leave you like those idiots had.

"Keep me company huh?" You raised an eyebrow, watching him from the corner of your eye. You ignored his words about you being his favorite. Ignored the warmth it spread from your stomach up at the possibility that this wasn't just a one-sided interest. It was true you weren't close friends, but that didn't stop you from daydreaming about the king himself, no matter how much you knew you shouldn't. Crowley's presence alone commanded attention and respect, he was powerful, but you always felt like there was something else there, just below the surface, something that he didn't want anyone else to see. You thought about that for a moment, before an idea crossed your mind.

"Well if you wanna keep me company, how about you help me?" You smiled, pulling the dough out of the bowl and flowering the counter before placing the dough down.

"I think I much prefer watching you" he smiled, leaning against the island behind you, shaking your head you made your way over to the spare aprons and grabbed one.

"No sir, you wanna keep me company, you can help" you smiled, holding the white apron out to him, he looked at it then at you, still not moving.

"Please?" You asked, you hoped you hadn't made him want to leave, you just wanted to uncover that more domestic side you knew that was buried deep deep down in him. With a sigh he unbuttoned his suit jacket and layed it across the back of one of the chairs, leaving him in only his black button down before he grabbed the apron and slipped it on. You watched as he began rolling up his sleeves, stopping at his elbows before his eyes darted to yours. You let out the shaky breath that you didn't even know you were holding, unsure why you found the simple act of him rolling up his sleeves so appealing, unless it was simply because it was the most skin you had ever seen Crowley show.

'Dear Chuck get ahold of yourself woman, this isn't medieval times, it's just his arms!' you smiled despite your thoughts and quickly made your way back to the dough, grabbing your rolling pin and flowering it.

"So, what would you like me to do?" He asked, his voice lower and suddenly right beside your ear, hot breath fanning across your neck as you suppressed a shiver.

"W-why don't you roll out the dough and I'll grab the cookie cutters" You stated, your voice wavering for a moment before he nodded and took the rolling pin. You went to go grab the cookie cutters, but couldn't help sparing a glance back, watching as he worked. It was odd to see the king of hell rolling out dough, but in a way it also seemed...normal

"If I can't simply watch you work, the same rules apply to you darling" he said with a smirk, stopping for a moment to look back at you. You let out a chuckle to disguise the embarrassment of being caught as you grabbed the cookie cutters labeled "Christmas".

"Sorry, just not used to seeing the king of hell in the kitchen" you smiled as you returned to his side, the dough all rolled out.

"Yes well, don't expect it often" you smiled at his comment as you began cutting out the dough.

"So, where did we learn this recipe hm? Back of a cake mix box?" He asked, turning to lean his back against the counter while he watched you work.

"Actually, I learned it from my grandma, she and I used to bake every year while she told me stories of her childhood in Dingwall" you replied, catching his attention.

"Dingwall? Your grandmother was"

"Scottish? Aye" you smiled at him.

"Huh" he smiled back, going quiet as he settled on simply watching you work,this time, you let him as you placed the first pan of cookies onto the tray. Trees, snowmen, and snowflakes. Next up were the gingerbread men, and a few extra.

"You've got to be kidding me" Crowley stated with a roll of his eyes as you cut out and placed down the angel shaped cookie.

"What?" You giggled

"Really?" You could see the agitation on his face as you cut out another angel shape.

"I promised I would make a few for Cas" you stated, before walking back over to the cookie cutters and looking through the Halloween cutters.

"But how about this?" You asked, walking back over with a devil shaped cutter, complete with horns, a tail and pitchfork.

"Not accurate" he started

"But better than the bloody angel" you couldn't help but giggle at his clear jealousy over a cookie shape.

"Here" you spoke, cutting out a small crown shape and placing it onto the devil's horns.

"More accurate?" You smiled.

"You're getting there kitten" he smirked, the nickname causing heat to raise to your cheeks and you quickly looked down, cutting a few more out before turning back to him.

"Can you reroll this while I put these in the oven?" You asked, pointing to the dough.

"Magic word?" He asked with a smirk while pushing off of the counter.

"Please" you smiled, earning a nod before he began working the dough again. You took the two pans and made your way over to the oven just as the timer went off. Grabbing the other pan out you set it on the counter before putting the other two in. The both of you worked like that for what seemed like hours, you talked about random things, mostly him asking about your life, though you did get him to spill some stories about not only hell but his life before he became a demon.

He watched you as you placed the last batch of cookies in the oven, the others lovingly placed onto plates for when the boys returned, you always thought of them, even when they left you behind on your own. In his opinion, you were far too good for them, a light in the darkness of their lives...Much like you were to him. He knew he should turn around and leave, the life he lived was not the life you deserve, you were far too kind for hell, that he knew now...But still he couldn't move, couldn't push himself away from the counter and out of the bunker, away from you, you were a weakness to him, but damnit did he want it. Want you, want this, soft music playing, the both of you in a calm, almost serene kind of relaxed as you talked. He found information about his life spilling from his lips before he could even catch it, and yet, he didn't care, the way your eyes lit up with every little detail you learned made him think that maybe...This wasn't just one sided.

You placed the last cookie on the plate, your mind running over everything Crowley had told you about himself, you never thought you would learn so much about the king of hell, and yet, you wanted to know more. This whole night had been something out of one of your daydreams, it was calm, intimate, and well...domestic, almost as if you were just a normal husband and wife and not a researcher and the king of hell himself. You wonder if this is what he would be like, as a husband, sure you knew that he had to be tough to rule hell, but maybe...Around a wife. No, you can't let your mind wander too far, your lives were very different, and besides as much as you wished for this, this calm, serene sense of home with him...You knew this was more than likely only one-sided.

"Snow falling gently to the ground

'Tis is the night before

And in my heart there is no doubt

That this is gonna be

The brightest holiday

'Cause here you are with me

Baby, baby, I can't wait"

You heard the snap before you even registered the fact that the dirty dishes were washed and placed neatly in the drying rack, turning you came face to face with Crowley, a playful smirk on his lips as he watched your shock slowly turn into playfulness as well.

"That's cheating" you laughed, he simply shrugged.

"I call it convenient"

"That is true" you smiled before adding.

"I should have you around more often" and just like that, a switch had been flipped and his eyes met yours, still a bit playful, but you could see the seriousness in them as well.

"Would you want that? Being around me more often" he asked, his voice low as he watched you for any signs that would halt his next move.

"To spend this special time of year with someone who

Makes me feel the special way that you do"

Your heart felt like it was running a marathon as you looked into his eyes, how come you never realized just how pretty they were? Maybe you had just never been close enough to see the way the light caught them, either way you could feel yourself falling more and more even though you knew he wanted an answer. Did you want that? Being around him more? Crowley may have started this evening out as just someone you slightly knew, but he was far more than that now.

"Darling?" He spoke, his accent thicker as he watched you just as intensely.

"Yes" you spoke, your words barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" He asked, wanting to make sure that this truly was what you wanted because he knew, knew that as soon as he had you, he wouldn't be able to let you go.

"Yes, I want you around more often, I want to spend more time with you...Like this" You told him, watching as the smile spread across his lips, not a smirk, but an actual smile, one that reached his eyes.

"I'd like that too Darling" he spoke, and heaven help you but the only thing you could think was.

'If you don't kiss me I might just die'

And either he read your mind, or read your face, but that playful smirk rested on his lips once more as he pulled the hand from behind his back that you hadn't even noticed he had hidden. In it, was a sprig of mistletoe that he looked down at before meeting your gaze again.

"I figured you were more of the traditional type" he stated, raising his hand above you both so that the mistletoe dangled right above your heads, you could help the giggle that escaped you, or the smile when he used his free hand to grab your waist and pull you flush against him. Your hands coming up to cup his face as you both got lost in each other's eyes once more, before he slowly leaned in and gave you, what you hoped, was the first of many breathtaking kisses.

"Walkin' with you in a winter's snow

Kissin' underneath the mistletoe

People smiling everywhere we go

It's Christmas eve and they can see we're in love"

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it ^_^ let me know what you think.

#supernatural #supernatural oneshot #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural drabble #supernatural crowley #crowley #crowley oneshot #crowley x reader #crowley imagine #crowley drabble #mark a sheppard #mark sheppard #mark sheppard oneshot #mark sheppard imagine #mark sheppard drabble #mark sheppard x reader

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forkanna · 5 years ago

Link

[AO3 LINK] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

TW: Abuse mention.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Things settled into a regular routine for a while. Without taping on her soap to worry about for a couple of weeks, Elsa would spend her days meeting up with her contacts, Edna chasing rainbows and trying to boost her career from small to big screen… and her nights paying to talk to Roxanne in ten-minute chunks. As isolated and alone as she felt, having the world's most adorable ginger dote on her meant the world.

The more time and money she spent on her, the more she learned, as well. Roxanne could play the harmonica, the piano - with her toes no less, though she could only manage chopsticks - and the guitar. The douchebag boyfriend's name was Hans, and she wasn't the only client he felt comfortable berating or commanding her in front of. She had a fluffy white kitten named Olaf who tried to interrupt her cam sessions, so they had to lock him in the bathroom but had forgotten once and he wandered into a very awkward shot.

Because finally, a little at a time, she had convinced Elsa to let her show more. Though she patently refused to watch Roxanne get herself off or go fully nude, she had seen her topless a few times. Bought her an ice blue thong off a special gift registry on an adult site - it didn't display the recipient's address to the customer, so safer for a camgirl to use - that she would tug just right to turn it into floss. Plenty of things that got her so heated that she had to shower, and eventually started to debate really getting herself off. Because why not? Nobody else was lining up to do the job.

Except for the men her parents set her up with. Elsa finally flatly refused to go on any dates - and they still set her up with some well-meaning guy. So she video chatted her parents, during the date, to inform them that she refused any further matchmaking. Having to watch Ryder squirm awkwardly behind a furious daughter seemed to finally do the trick.

Everything was almost good, except that Roxanne wasn't really real. She was a cam girl; even if she was less fake around her than the other clients, she still was far from a real relationship. Even friendship. But Elsa convinced herself that this was as close to one as she felt comfortable having since everyone in Hollywood was so fake.

There was one other thing she learned. And she decided to find out for sure if she was right the most blunt way possible.

~ o ~

"Aren't you getting sick of me?"

'Never.' The answers came so easy with Elsa. She almost forgot she wasn't talking to an old friend; she just had to get that pesky VIP payment out of the way first, and then she was talking to her red-haired angel. No worse than placing a toll call.

"Okay," Roxanne breathed as she cuddled the big pink moose she had bought her more recently. Yes, a pink moose; it was the weirdest thing on her gift registry so she decided she had to do that one. "I'm so boring, though. Like, especially because you won't let me get nastier for you, but besides that… I'm sleepy today. So I can't even give you the usual perkiness that brings the boys to the yard."

'It's okay. I like just hanging out.' She saw her smile, and gave it a few seconds before typing again. Moment of truth now. 'Anna?'

"Yeah?"

'Thanks for being here. And yes I know you're paid to but it doesn't matter. I still really look forward to our time together.'

"Sure, Mountie," she said with a smile as she started to yawn. And the yawn died halfway through as her eyes went wide. "Beh?"

'You okay?'

The girl paused for a moment, leaning her hands against her ankles. Staring off to the side. Then she said softly, "You said you weren't a creep. I thought you weren't, but… have you… been digging up dirt…?"

Looking away from the feed for a moment to lessen her pain, she finally mustered the courage to type, 'You forgot to mute it last time he came at you. I heard everything. I just didn't know what to say so I didn't.'

"You heard my name? And… heard…" Pain crept into her features. "Oh GOD. Last time you were on, I… that was the one- shit. Shit, shit, I'm… so sorry."

'Did you go to the hospital?'

"No. It wasn't that bad, he… I know it probably sounded really bad through the mic, but I swear up and down, like, it was barely anything." But she was shaking. Whether at the memory of the abuse or at her identity being less protected than before was anybody's guess.

'He deserves to be the one in the hospital.'

"Hey. Listen, that's none of your business. But like…" She sighed wearily, frowning straight down. "I know you're trying to help. So thanks, but just like, forget about it. Okay? My life, I'll handle it."

'I'm not trying to white knight you Anna. I just don't want him to hurt you again.' 'If he comes at you again I want you to get to a shelter.'

Lip trembling, Roxanne - or Anna, as she now knew - blew upward to push her bangs out of her eyes. Trying to distract both of them. "He just… gets mad sometimes. I frustrate him." A harsh chuckle. "I know how I sound. But I don't have a way out, and when he's not like that, he's… sweet. Takes care of me. Like, without his job, I wouldn't make it. Even with you being so cool and… basically feeding me in exchange for listening to me talk about nothing but bullshit."

Elsa's throat constricted as she typed. It took her so long that Anna actually said, "Mountie? You there?" before she was finished.

'Don't put yourself down like that. You have more to say than ninety per cent of the people in my life and I'm not kidding. I will hit the tip jar a hundred times if it will get you out of there and somewhere safer.' 'You're worth two of me, and ten of Hans. You are so worth it.'

To Be Continued…

#Very Important Person #elsanna fanfiction #forkanna writes #elsanna #camgirl!au #jess the writer

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cantquitu · 6 years ago

Text

Tired, tired thoughts about the Toronto show -

The benign dictator thing is real. Harry had this audience in the palm of his hand and knew it. My cousin remarked on how she'd seen 30 Seconds to Mars at an arena show years ago (she wasn't a fan, she went with a co-worker or something) and she was creeped out but fascinated by Jared Leto's messiah schtick and how the audience responded to him. She said "Harry's not far off, but I feel like he'd use it for good".

I said, "I feel like once he's grown his curls back he could probably take over the world if he wanted to", and she agreed without hesitation.

Harry was so damn happy up there on that stage. From the very first song he was smiling to himself, laughing, dimpling all over the place as if we were the best damn thing he'd ever seen and he could not BELIEVE we were letting him sing for us. He was THRILLED.

Everyone says it, but that boy puts the work in and works that stage. He didn't stop moving, waving, blowing kisses, pointing at particular people in the audience, running laps of the stage, interacting with people. He genuinely does make you feel like he's trying to soak it all in and make you understand that he appreciates your presence. The charm and the swagger and the absolute control he exercises over the show is kind of awesome to behold.

His dance moves have evolved into something endlessly unhip, goofily sexy and unself-consciously joyful. Henri is feeling himself up there and he goes where the groove takes him, coolness be damned!

Meet Me In The Hallway will forever slay me. It sounded incredible, the only sad thing about this tour is that he doesn't finish it...

I felt like his voice was best showcased by MMITH, From the Dining Table, The Chain and Sign Of The Times. I'm not a fan of If I Could Fly. To me he doesn't sound 100% comfortable singing it. It's a lovely piece of audience interaction and I'm sure it's a highlight for many, but it just doesn't move me.

The Poutine Routine was funny, and very Michael Buble-based. It ended with him on a moose drenched in maple syrup I think? (my cousin, when the rant finished, said "Michael Buble would totally be up for that")

My cousin also remarked that Harry is a man who likes lists, and that's something she can respect. Shows a disciplined character 😁

H pointed out and complimented somebody's fabulous suit, someone's t shirt showing a kitten riding a unicorn, someone else's nipples, and someone else's extreme dance moves. He also found a friend for another audience member on request and did so very quickly and efficiently, I thought 😀

He gave a shout out to Shania Twain and claimed that got the biggest cheer of the night.

The audience screaming....I will never get used to the sound levels. It's truly awesome. I often see people get annoyed when concert reviewers mention it, as if it's not really that different to any other concert. Well, it is. So they're gonna continue mentioning it.

It seemed like the audience was about 90-95% female, and very young. Though when we were getting the train and trying to navigate the crazy crowds at the station, a woman who looked to be about 35 remarked to three good looking bro dude guys in their mid-late 20s that she had heard that there had been a concert from "someone who was in One Direction", and then tried to hide her surprise when it dawned on her that the bro dudes had been at the concert themselves. Frankly I was surprised too.

The production and stage set-up looks far more impressive in the round for this 360 show, and obviously far more impressive than it appears in blurry fan videos.

I was truly overawed by the size of the audience. My cousin, who came with me, had been at a sold out show at the same venue last week and said there were definitely thousands more stuffed into the arena for Harry. Harry remarked on the size of the audience too.

Overall I enjoyed this arena show far more than the Dublin one. I was going through a really hard time in April and Harry's Dublin show was a bright spot. But this time I got to enjoy the show unreservedly and be there with someone who was also having a great time. We had a great view, I could see everything, and I just loved seeing the audience losing their shit for Harry and he in turn absorbing their love and reflecting it back to them. And I loved seeing my cousin being surprised, charmed and ultimately won over in the space of 90 minutes by this dimpled dictator in a baby pink suit :)

#toronto #my show

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catthefearless · 6 years ago

Text

I didn’t drop off the face of the planet

For the month of June, I participated in a writing challenge hosted by the lovely @deepestfirefun If you were wondering where I went, I didn’t tag everyone in all the posts but when the whole list is posted I will tag and re-blog the whole thing. If you’re at all curious, it’s almost the only thing I posted on here in 30 installments.

Lots happened in my life during that time that I didn’t blog about. The birth of my 4th grand baby happened two weeks ago, I got a kitten. my divorce refuses to happen with the courts and my relationship with E progresses.

OK first things first, my newest grand baby was born on June 21 at 9:03 CST. My daughter had been having weird contractions all day until they organized and got painful and she decided to go to the hospital. I told her earlier in the day that today was the day and she didn’t want to believe me. Her health had been taking a significant turn and she wanted the baby to be born naturally and her dr threatened to induce her. But baby Amelia Rose decided when it was her time and out she popped, literally, after just 2 minutes of pushing! She weighed only 6lbs 12ozs, the smallest of her babies, most of them 8 lbs of more! She was done “cooking” according to the midwife since there were calcifications on the placenta indicating she was more than full term. Mommy and baby are doing great and she’s the best baby! Her daddy gave her the first name and I came up with the middle name, an old family name.

Second thing on the list is Cosmo! He’s an adorable 12.5 week old kitten who keeps me on my toes. He loves me and cuddles with me constantly, purrs tons, talks a lot and is very active. He loves his bigger brother and sister, Willow and Moose and plays with them. as much as a 4 lb kitten and two larger Goldens can play. He has gotten very leggy with a long whip like tail, quite the transformation in 3 weeks! He will be a bigger kitty no doubt. All of this came to fruition for two reasons: ex #4 and I mostly concluded that my kitty, Ru, might be better off with him since he is bonded with one other kitty at his house and one of his doggos. That and I have had a special bond with two other tuxedo kitties in the past, my last one dying 1.5 years ago at the age of 16. My friend Beth was fostering a litter and it included Cosmo. When he went up for adoption with the local Humane group, I went and met him and fell in love. I had to wait to take him home for a few days and so far everything is going good. He’s a bundle of energy but cuddles with me all night long, even when E sleeps over with me.

Third point on my list is the divorce. Since we are filing this ourselves, it’s been kicked back twice due to errors and blanks that needed to be filled in and each time there’s a 2 week wait to see what happens next. Right now it’s stalled in the judge’s office since they are short staffed right now and I’m just waiting to get it back. Hopefully this time it will be processed. Keep your fingers crossed!

E and I are still madly in love and we are talking more and more about the future.He has told his parents more about me now and they are looking forward to meeting me sometime. Seeing as they live in Vermont and we live in NM, it might be awhile. E is still waiting to hear back on the short sale house although the bank is moving forward with the process, One baby step at a time. The only issue I am having with my relationship with E isn’t him, it’s his son, C. He can be an out and out ass at times, testing me with rude comments and sarcasm. He’s 16 so he’s at that particular age to test limits. I try and let them go but after E and I have talked, I can tell him when he’s crossed the line. I have done this twice now and the rest of the time I try to just ignore his snarky replies. After being a teacher for so many years, it’s hard letting a kid make disparaging comments like this and not doing much about it. It’s E’s parenting style to give C enough rope to hang himself and then he tries to teach a lesson from that. It’s very permissive for my standards but as I am not the mom here, I have to defer mostly to E. It’s hard at times but E says when he and I move into the new house together, we will set the rules for behavior together and I get more say then. I agree but in the meantime, I will say things when I need to to keep my sanity.

OH! and one other great thing that happened; one of the cosplay costumes that Cubby, my sewing protege and I have been working hard on, took a prize at the last convention! Wooo hooo! As he put it, “You won!” and I corrected with “We won, it’s still your work too!” He was doing Archer from Fate/stay night. Photo is of the two of us, me as Saber from the same series.

I hope y’all go and read some of the writing from the challenge, and not just my stuff. There was a ton of good writing and most of us that participated had a blast!

@deepestfirefun @pixiedurango @theincaprincess @xxbyimm @armitageadoration @patanghill17 @shikin83 @thedarlingwriter @raychellefay @raindrops-on-roses142 @starlitght92 @bofursunboundbraids @cd1242 @tomssweetbouquet @abiwimfandomgalcentral @calicoskattssweeticedtea @mypatronusisastag-osaurus @bellevox @thegreyberetseptember-stardust @unsng @fragments-of-my-mind @ixoxopoetry @thestorybookmistress @xxbyimm @fandomgalcentral

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writingfromkitchenator · 7 years ago

Text

Bound

Laptop and notebook in hand, Elizabeth walked up into the library, headphones swinging from her pocket.

Dean looked up as she enters. "What? Not going to join us tonight?"

She raises an eyebrow as she sits. "You boys know I have a lot of work to do."

Dean looks from her to her laptop and back again. "Come on Lizzie, you gotta have a break once in a while."

"No time for breaks," She said but then looks at one of the beers. "You can pass me one though."

Dean rolls his eyes and slides one over as Sam walks in, grinning. "Told you she wouldn't."

"Yeah, thanks Sherlock. You should be helping me get her to damn well relax." Dean said.

"Dean, I am perfectly fine." She said and opens her laptop. "Stop being such a drama queen."

He looked opposed to being called a drama queen, but remained silent as Sam chuckled. Soon, the headphones were in and her focus was on the screen in front of her, a pen absently twirling in her hand before occasionally scratching something down.

"We can't let her keep doing this Sam," Dean said quietly, despite the music blaring from her headphones. "It's not healthy."

"She's given up hunting Dean, at least she's keeping herself occupied with something." Sam said with a small shrug. "And, if she manages to get all the info together, it's going to be a massive help for hunters, maybe worldwide."

"Maybe," Dean said, taking a long drink. "But that's if she can even get it published or distributed. I mean, it's going to be really long damned book."

"Come on Dean, give her some credit." Sam took a beer too. "She's been at this longer than we have, I'm happy that she's trying to get out somewhat."

"You can't say she's not a damned good hunter Sammy," Dean growled. "And you can't say that we haven't been missing her on hunts."

Sam shrugs. "It's her choice man."

"Haven't you boys learnt she does what she wants yet?"

Both Sam and Dean jumped, staring at Crowley, who looks nothing short of amused at their expressions.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean growled, his eyes flicking over to Elizabeth, who was still enraptured in her computer. "You know she'll kill your arse if she sees you."

"It's worth the risk," He said lightly. "Besides, I need a favour."

"A favour?" Sam asked. "From us?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "That's why I'm here Moose, or what, do you think I just like to pop in to chat?"

The sound of a hammer being pulled back got their attention, Elizabeth casually pointing a gun Crowley's way.

"Hello darling," Crowley said, unperturbed by the gun. "Good to see you too."

"Right." She said bluntly, still not looking up. "Get out."

"We both know you won't use that gun Elizabeth." Crowley said with a smirk, finally earning her gaze, which flashed slightly in anger. "So why don't we play nice for a moment."

"Fine." She said, but doesn't move the gun. "So talk."

Sam and Dean look between them before sharing a look with each other.

"You guys owe me this," Crowley said. "After all, it is your faults that Abaddon was such a pain in my side for so long and has upset the relative peace I had in Hell. So-"

"Abaddon is dead, we don't owe you squat." Dean said.

"As I was saying," Crowley continued. "This has given rise to a few demons who think that they can take it from me, now, I've quashed most of them, all minor little demons who think they can play with the big boys, but one in particular is being a rather bad pain in my side. I can deal with him, but I would feel a lot more comfortable with some back up."

"And you want us to back you up?" Dean asked and Crowley nods. "Are you insane?"

Crowley looks annoyed, glancing at Elizabeth, who was still holding the gun on him, but was back at looking at her computer. "What can I say? He's a lot of trouble, you get demon's following him and I can guarantee you, you will be fighting them almost non-stop. He has a particular hatred of you lot and, rumours abound, is he’s trying to find where this, er, charming place is."

"I'd like to see him try." Dean growled. "Look, he'll find us eventually and we'll take him out. There, happy?"

"No," Crowley glared at Dean. "I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation here. He's going to kill me first and then come after you, but not personally, he's going to send every form of hell spawn after you, including, I might add, Hell Hounds."

"I take it you know where he is Crowley?" Elizabeth asked. "Otherwise you wouldn't be asking for our help, or more, their help."

"Now darling, don't write yourself out," Crowley smirked. "I do indeed know where he is, but I'm going to need your help getting close."

Elizabeth glared at him. "I don't hunt anymore Crowley."

"So I've heard," He said. "But I'm not asking you to hunt, I'm asking you to be a distraction."

Her gaze hardened. "And what makes you think I'd even agree to that?"

Crowley shrugs. "Well, I doubt these two morons are going to be able to pull it off without you, plus," He pauses, hiding a smirk. "I know you won't let the little brothers go into what could possibly be a trap."

"A trap?" Sam asked. "You want us to walk into a trap?"

"Well, it's questionable whether it will be or not." Crowley said. "But that's a risk I'm taking too."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as Sam and Dean both went to argue, finally putting her gun away. "Don't bother guys, you know he won't leave us alone until we do it."

"You're not actually saying-"

"You wanted me to get out." She stood, stretching a little. "So what's the plan Crowley?"

"Tomorrow night, he'll be at a little club he owns, privileges he got before I came into power," He looked a little annoyed. "I need Moose and Squirrel to set up cover outside while I head in with you."

"Not a chance," Dean said angrily. "We're not letting you take her anywhere."

"Dean." Elizabeth's look was dark and Dean shut his mouth. "Why?"

"As I said, a distraction." Crowley said happily. "So wear something nice."

With that, he was gone, leaving Elizabeth scowling and Dean and Sam sharing a look.

"We're seriously going to go along with this?" Dean asked. "With that half assed sounding plan?"

"I think it's about time you boys learnt to start dealing with problems before they arise." Elizabeth said and drained the rest of her beer. "You guys want another one?"

The next night, Sam and Dean were ready to go, but talking in concerned, hushed voices.

"Look Dean, I don't like it any more than you do." Sam said. "But...we've got to trust Elizabeth on this, you know we do. She wouldn't have agreed if she didn't have some reason."

"Sam, Elizabeth has been off for a while now," Dean hissed. "For all we know, she's planning something with Crowley."

"We're talking Lizzie, Dean." Sam said. "She hates his guts, you know that. Ever since-"

"Yeah, I know." Dean said. "But something about this feels-"

"Off?" Elizabeth finishes as she walks in, putting in an earring, a long green dress on as she eyes them with mild annoyance. "That's because it's Crowley. What do you expect it to feel?"

Dean looks her up and down. "You're going in like that?"

"I'm armed." She said easily. "And yes, because it's part of the plan, or did you not listen to what he said yesterday?"

"Why are you doing this Lizzie?" Dean asked. "We owe him nothing."

Elizabeth shrugs. "I needed a break and like I said, I think we should nip something early for a change."

"You look ravishing darling." Crowley said as he appeared, making Sam and Dean jump again.

"Don't think I won't hesitate to shoot you Crowley," She said coldly. "You're my one exception to my rule."

He grins. "Are we ready?"

"No." Dean growls under his breath.

"Good." With a snap, he and Elizabeth appeared out on a street.

"What the he-" Crowley cut her off, pressing her hard against a wall, pinning her hands quickly, their faces inches apart, and there is a small snap that makes her freeze.

"What's the matter Kitten, am I making you uncomfortable?" He purred, smirking widely.

"Get off me Crowley." She growled.

"Or you'll what?" He asked. "You and I both know that you can do nothing to me."

Elizabeth snarled and tried to move away, tugging at her hands, but Crowley's grip was firm. "I said get off me."

With a chuckle, he moved back, pleased by the flush over her cheeks as she straightens herself up and looks at the new silver and green bracelet on her wrist.

"What is this?" She hissed.

Crowley shrugs with a smile. "We are going somewhere it's a bad place to be human Elizabeth, so I'm simply making sure you don't appear so."

Elizabeth looks from him to the bracelet and back. "I'd say thanks, but I wouldn't mean it."

"Come now Kitten, you'll thank me in the end."

"Don't call me that Crowley."

He chuckles and holds out his arm. "Come along then darling, I'd hate to be late for this meeting."

She scowls at him but takes his arm, heading towards a door.

Elizabeth had never meant for it to go like this, had never meant for it to be this bad, but now she was all but wrapped around Crowley’s finger.

It all started with a deal.

She was glad that her father was no longer around to see this, to see what she had done.

It all seemed like so long ago now, when things were darker, desperate, and she had nowhere else to turn.

She knew that Crowley would be interested in what she had to say, after all, she was as good as the Winchesters, called them brothers, and as much as Crowley had Bobby’s soul, she knew that he would want hers more.

“Is that so?” He had asked after she’d summoned him at a crossroads and explained what she wanted. “And what makes you think you are more valuable?”

“Because I’ll be around a lot longer for one.” She’d growled. “Meaning I’ll have a lot longer to hunt your arse down if you don’t.”

“Hmm, tempting.” He smirked. “But we’re talking about a soul trade here dear, something that is almost unheard of, and your old man has been a good thorn in my side.”

“Then think about what I’ll be.” Elizabeth snarled. “Because he taught me everything, throw years’ worth of hunting under my belt as well as hanging around the Winchesters, and I can assure you I will become your worst nightmare.”

Crowley laughed. “Oh you are a charmer love, I hope you don’t take insult when I say you’d make a good demon.”

“So you’ll make the deal?” Elizabeth asked, ignoring the comment, her hand tense on the knife at her belt.

Crowley smirked at her. “Oh, I’ll make the deal love, but, for you, I can’t just keep it any ordinary deal now can I? No, you are worth much more than that.”

She swallows, her gaze not breaking away from him. “And that means?”

“That means,” He said slowly as he approached. “That there’s no ten years for you. If I say you go, you go.”

Elizabeth stared at him, her heart hammering, but nods. “Fair enough.”

Crowley grins. “And if I ever need a favour…you answer.”

She frowns. “As long as it doesn’t involve Sam and Dean or my father.”

“Of course.” He’d expected no less from her. “And I suppose you want your father to keep those little legs of his working too?”

“Preferably.” She growls. “Look Crowley, stop toying with me. Do we have a deal or not?”

“It’s going to cost you now love,” He said quietly. “After all, that was a bonus for him.”

Elizabeth reluctantly lets go off the knife, standing up to him, mentally preparing herself for what he was going to say next. “What cost?”

Crowley gives her a very slow look up and down, but Elizabeth held her ground as his gaze returns to hers with a smirk. “I’m sure I can come up with a few things.”

“You gotta be kidding me?” She hissed, unable to help the uncomfortable shuffle of her feet. “That’s where your mind goes?”

His eyes were dark. “What can I say? You are making a deal that breaks another, and you are a beautiful woman. You truly want to do this, then you belong to me.”

Elizabeth swallows, her body tense.

Crowley continues to advance, his steps slow, patient, Elizabeth didn’t want to step back, but she did. “Oh? Thinking of backing out are we?”

She forced her feet to stop, holding his gaze, her hands clenching by her side. “No. You give Dad his soul back, let him keep his legs, then I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whenever I want.” He adds, closing the distance finally. “You will be mine pet and only mine for as long as I deem fit,” He smirks. “Alive anyway, after that, it’s permanent.”

“So what, now you’re stalling?” Elizabeth growled. “I’ve already agreed Crowley.”

“Then seal the deal love,” He said quietly. “If you are sure you want to do this.”

“One more condition Crowley,” She said firmly. “Dad and the boys don’t find out. Ever.”

“Your secrets safe with me.”

It had been a long few years since then and Elizabeth was tired, tired of being used, tired of having to hide what she did from Sam and Dean, tired of hunting.

Purgatory had been a relief.

She’d thought she’d found a way out, thought that here, she could return to something pure, a simpler existence, where all she had to do was survive and without the weight of going to Hell over her.

But Dean refused to leave her behind, she tried to do what Castiel did, pull away at the last moment, but Castiel wouldn’t see her trapped there either and threw her through.

Then she was stuck again.

After Abaddon was defeated, after watching Dean turn into a demon and come back again, she quit, she couldn’t take it anymore and let herself become hunkered down in the bunker, focusing everything she had into making a book for hunters.

Or, almost.

Crowley was quick to make clear, that no matter what she felt, their deal still stood.

This was the first ‘hunt’ he was making her go on, having, for the most part, left her alone.

“Relax love,” Crowley said as she instantly goes on guard, stepping inside. “No one knows you are human, so unless they recognise you, you are perfectly fine.”

“Not what I call fine Crowley.” She growled, eyeing off two vampires hidden in a corner in deep conversation, before seeing a witch at the bar drinking a strange colour changing drink, and small pack of werewolves. She tensed further. “How the hell can I tell what they are?” She asked angrily in a quiet voice.

“Little side effect of the spell.” He said simply. “Rather useful though, no?”

“Can I just voice that I don’t like this?” Elizabeth said.

“No, you are practically radiating it, so relax before you give yourself away.” Crowley squeezed her arm a little. “I need you top of your game Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth bit her tongue and forced herself to relax, despite the racing of her heart and the growing bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The demon stood out a mile, on a raised part of the club that could look out over the rest of it. If she hadn’t known that demons had a large superiority complex, she would’ve been surprised.

“Drake.” Crowley said as they stepped up. “Lovely place you have here.”

Drake, who was all blonde hair, blue eyes and very clear arrogance that set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge, grinned as he saw them. “Crowley. Nice of the King to be able to grace my presence.”

“Well, we had organised a meeting had we not?” Crowley asked, leading her over to the lounge opposite Drake and sitting down. “Or were you too busy trying to impress the people here that you forgot that?”

Drake chuckles. “You never did give me enough credit Crowley. Always to high on that little horse of yours to notice us little guys.”

Elizabeth felt Crowley tense a little but he took it in his stride. “Well, I am important, hardly a chance to be able to see everyone.”

If looks could kill, Elizabeth was almost sure that Crowley would’ve gone up in flames.

Drake’s smile was different this time, holding a colder note. “And who may I ask is this lovely creature by your side?”

It took everything she had to keep a reasonably straight face as he took her hand and kissed it, lingering just a little longer than what her or Crowley would’ve liked.

They don’t get a chance to answer though as he straightens up, his grin returning. “But of course I know who you are Elizabeth Singer, after all, a mighty huntress such as yourself doesn’t go unnoticed.” His gaze moves to Crowley. “Which begs the question as to why you are here?”

“Protection,” Crowley said, gripping her arm slightly harder. “After all, she does what I want, when I want.”

“Oh?” Drake’s eyes between the two of them. “And how was such an agreement made? Last I checked, anyone with relations to the Winchesters were ridiculously stubborn.”

The more he talked, the more Elizabeth just wanted to put him out of his misery. Her stomach was churning. This demon was dangerous and he didn’t care who knew it.

“Well, the right leverage helps.” Crowley said, leaning back, fixing his suit slightly, making Elizabeth shoot him a quick look. “And of course a soul.”

The spark that lit up Drake’s eyes had her grinding her teeth. If Crowley wasn’t careful, he’d say too much.

“Oh? How interesting.” Drake rested his head on a hand, a smile showing too much teeth. “Prove it.”

Crowley blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Prove that you can control her.” He said casually, but when Crowley doesn’t respond, his gaze hardens. “Prove it or I have you both kicked out, maybe killed, right now.”

Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. “I think you just want a free show.”

Inwardly, Elizabeth sighs, knowing exactly what was about to happen. She could’ve resisted, easily sent him the message to do something else, but the truth was, she didn’t want to.

She let her head be turned, her eyes fluttering shut as Crowley pressed his lips to hers. It was a hard kiss, bruising and dominant, proving the point to Drake, and she offered no resistance.

The truth was, somewhere along the line, she’d fallen in love with Crowley.

When she first realised, Elizabeth had spent a long time trying to convince herself that it was some weird twist on Stockholm syndrome, that what she was feeling couldn’t be anything of the sorts, not for a demon, not for someone who had been nothing but a pain in her and the Winchester’s arse with all his scheme’s, not for someone who her father had hated with a passion.

But she had.

And she hated it.

She hated herself for it. It made her stomach twist in ways that she didn’t even want to think about.

Sam and Dean were convinced she hated him, that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, and she wanted to keep it that way. They could never know what she’d done and they definitely could never know how she felt.

Crowley broke away, his gaze holding hers for a moment before becoming smug and looking back at Drake, settling back on the lounge. “Proof enough?”

Drake was smirking, hands steepled under his chin as he’d leant forward. “Fascinating.”

Elizabeth shifted a little on the lounge, breathing hard, heat flooding her cheeks. She hated herself for allowing this to happen.

“And what would make someone like you sell their soul?” Drake asked, making her glare at him.

“Nothing of your concern.” She said coldly.

But Drake’s grin gets wider. “Oh, but see, it is. If I get where I want to be, any deal his made, passes to me.”

Elizabeth stiffens but Crowley chuckles next to her. “So you want to get straight to the point then?”

Drake sits back, looking too calm, too collected. “You back out Crowley and no one will get hurt, I mean, by no one I mean you, no one is loyal to you after all.”

Crowley looks unamused. “And I suppose you’d just let me go into happy retirement?”

He shrugs. “Depends on how much of a pain you are about it.”

“Have you met him?” Elizabeth said quietly under her breath so only Crowley heard, who took her hand firmly in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I’ve done nothing but fight to stay here,” Crowley said. “So if you think I’m simply going to roll over and play dead…”

“Well, many say that’s what you do to survive anyway.” Drake said, looking amused. “So how’s this going to be any different?”

Crowley’s expression was impassive. “I have no intention of just playing along, especially when I know that no one will follow you.”

“Is that so?” Drake asked. “And how could you possibly know that?”

“Well, I am the King for a reason.” Crowley smirked. “Or has being in such a high spot made you forget that?”

Elizabeth was trying not to be distracted, Crowley’s thumb still brushing over her knuckles, she could feel herself tensing, not understanding Crowley’s motives. She knew he could snap his fingers and this demon would cease to be, she knew that he could call his Hell Hounds and any moment and stop the threats, she knew he was toying with him, and none of it made any sense to her.

There was a crackle of magic through the air and the hair on the back of Elizabeth’s neck rose, her head snapping up, years’ worth of hunter instincts telling her something bad was about to happen.

“SINGER!”

Elizabeth threw herself to the ground as the back of the lounge exploded where she’d been sitting, Crowley and Drake being blasted too.

“SINGER!”

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, briefly noting the silence throughout the club, and stared at the man stalking towards her, his eyes purple filled with magic, everyone backing away.

“Do I know you?” She asked, mentally scalding herself for asking such a stupid question.

She had just enough time to dive down again before his blast shattered the glass around her and she covered her head.

“You will before the end Singer!” He yelled. “Just as my family knew you.”

Elizabeth tugged the gun free from under dress, breathing hard. Glancing up, she met Drake’s eye.

He grinned. “Guess my security is a little lacking.” He vanished and Elizabeth growled, getting low to her feet.

“You butchered them!” The witch yelled and she could hear glass crunching under his feet. “You tore them apart! Slaughtered them for nothing but naught of your own pleasure!”

“Something you want to tell me love?” Crowley growled, her eyes flickering over to him.

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” She said in a hushed voice. “I’ve killed a lot of damned witch’s in my time, I hardly remember each and every-”

Elizabeth was cut off by another blast, quickly ducking behind a pillar, coughing against the dust as she checked what bullets she had in her gun. “Dammit.”

She came prepared for a demon fight, not a witch fight.

“Everybody out!” The witch roared. “This is between me and the hunter bitch.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t hunt anymore.” Elizabeth shouted, feeling the room empty. “So you can still walk out of here.”

“I’m not walking out of here until you’re dead!” She felt the air shift around her and threw herself forward just in time, the pillar exploding.

Unfortunately, she was near the stairs.

Arms wrapping around her head, she let herself roll, scrambling up soon as she reached the bottom and dashing to the nearest cover.

“Lizzie!” It was Dean’s voice and she breathed a slight sigh of relief.

“Witch!” She yelled back at them, hoping that they weren’t already inside.

“No one’s saving you bitch.” The voice was too close and Elizabeth felt a force wrap around her and next thing she knew, she was thrown across the room, crashing hard into a table.

Elizabeth groans, lifting herself up slowly, the hit having taken her breath away.

“Not so mighty now are you?” The witch was marching towards hers and she could clearly make out the magic burning around him, even though her vision was slightly blurred. “The huntress on her knees.”

She hated that nickname.

“Lizzie!” Dean’s shout came again and the witch instantly threw out his hand, throwing both Sam and Dean aside.

“No one helps her.” He growled. “Or I make this so much slower and much more painful.”

Elizabeth looked up, seeing Crowley watching down, clearly observing.

She hated it all.

Shifting, she slid off the table, her dress torn. “You know what arsehole, take your best shot.”

The witch glared at her, his eyes flashing. “What?”

“Take your best shot.” She held out her arms. “I’m right here, I’m not moving, so do whatever you want and see if I give a damn.”

She couldn’t see Crowley frown, focused entirely on the witch, trying to get his feet to move but the witch was making sure that she was truly alone in this, he could see Sam and Dean struggling too.

But this was something new.

The witch advanced. “Oh? Going to be cocky in the face of death?”

“I’m always cocky dipshit,” She said coldly. “Why do you think I’m talked about so much? Because I’m a cocky piece of shit that’s really going to enjoy kicking your arse.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try,” He said coldly. “And considering you said you didn’t hunt-”

“I think I’ll make an exception.” Elizabeth snarled. “Now, you have to the count of three buddy before I rip you a new one.”

The spell hit her full force, throwing her hard to the side, through a booth that splintered around her and she landed in a heavy pile.

“How did that feel? Was that good enough for you?” He yells.

Elizabeth chuckles, getting slowly back to her feet. “Seriously? Is that all you’ve got? I’ve been to Purgatory you bastard, I’ve been tortured, been shot, been stabbed, been bitten and a whole lot of other crap that you couldn’t even dream of, so if you think throwing me around the room is going to frighten me, is going to make me reconsider my life choices, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

The witch glared at her, clearly having not expected that, but his shock was quickly taken over by the anger again. “I haven’t even started.”

“Then allow me to finish it.” She growled, a gun in hand which she fired without hesitation, straight into the witch’s chest.

He staggered, his eyes going wide, so she fires again, stepping closer each shot until he was down on the ground.

Elizabeth stood over him, gun firmly pointed at his head, breathing hard, her eyes cold. The witch coughed, gurgling away, blood spilling from his mouth. She doesn’t even blink, firing the final round into his head.

Silence fell heavy in the room, Sam and Dean slowly getting to their feet, eyeing her carefully as she remained motionless above the body.

Crowley stepped down from where they’d been, brushing his suit down. “Well, that was fun.”

The gun clattered to the floor, slipping from her fingers, her gaze furious. “Fuck off Crowley.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She growled. “You and Sam and Dean, you can all just leave me alone. I’ve had enough.”

Elizabeth spun, intending to storm from the room but Crowley grabbed her arm. “Come now darling, there’s no need for-”

“Let. Me. Go.” Her voice was broken, hard, anger and hatred curling through her, something that Crowley could clearly feel as he slowly withdrew his hand.

She storms away, not looking back, even as Sam and Dean called for her.

Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure how she found herself in a motel, didn’t really recognise herself as she stripped off, jumping under a scalding hot shower, the small wounds from splinters and glass stinging.

She was on autopilot, entirely numb.

She dried off, ignoring the glances of herself she caught in the mirror, ignoring the too tired lines under her eyes. She knew if she didn’t, she would crumble.

Striding from the bathroom, dressed only in a towel, she went to the mini bar and pulled out all that was in there, setting it up on the table before taking the one that was closest.

Elizabeth winces at the burn, she hated vodka.

The next one went down easier.

Onto the third, a knock on the door stopped her.

She knew that there was only four people who it could be and this just made her anger boil up again.

Marching to the door, she threw it open, Crowley standing there. “What part of any of that did you not understand?”

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “I am seeing if you are alright.”

She makes a disgusted noise and tries to slam the door in his face, but he catches it. Growling, she gives up and heads back to the table, downing the third.

Crowley gently closes the door behind him, his gaze fixed on her. “You need to-”

“Crowley, I swear to God if you’re going to tell me to calm down then I will shoot you, multiple times, with devil trap bullets.” She snapped coldly.

Crowley rolls his eyes and holds up her gun. “With these I take it?”

Elizabeth glares at the gun before back at him. “You going to give it back?”

“After that threat? No.” The gun vanishes and he looks at her concerned. “What was that tonight?”

“How the hell should I know?” She said. “Cleary he was-”

“With you, Elizabeth.” Crowley said and she tensed, her teeth grinding together.

“I killed the bastard.” She growls. “There’s not much more to it.”

“Right.” His eyes flicker to the table. “So all this is because you killed someone that was trying to kill you? Something you have done multiple times.”

The glass bottle that had been in her hand smashed against a wall as she threw it. “After I swore not to Crowley! After I swore to not once look back at hunting. You knew this and yet you still dragged me there!”

“To keep Drake occupied.” Crowley said calmly. “Which was working until that maniac turned up.”

“And what did you?” She roared. “You stood there and watched!”

“I was stuck to damned floor.” Crowley growled, his resolve snapping a little. “I couldn’t do anything except watch.”

“Bullshit!” Elizabeth took another bottle, this time pelting it at him, except it missed terribly, just making her angrier. “You just wanted to see what I would do!”

“I was hoping that those two idiots you call brothers would be able to stop it.” He said, eyeing her carefully as she breathed hard. “But, clearly, yet again, they shot their inept-”

“Stop!” She snapped. “I don’t want to hear it Crowley! Why can you never admit the truth to me?”

“That is the truth.” Something flashed across his gaze as he looked at her, something that she was in no state to be currently reading into. “And quite frankly I didn’t appreciate you telling that bastard to kill you.”

“It would’ve been a relief.” Another bottle, this one causing Crowley to duck. “I would’ve finally be put out of my fucking misery.”

In a flash, Crowley grabbed her and pinned her to the wall, his hands capturing hers, making sure that she couldn’t throw anything else, a low growl leaving him, his eyes flashing red.

“Need I remind you who you belong to darling?” He asked, his voice low. “I would prefer it if you didn’t die until I said so.”

The fact that she couldn’t move, couldn’t vent her energy, was making it all worse, but she had little room to struggle. “What would it matter? I still go to you anyway!”

Crowley gaze became dangerous. “Because then this relationship would change dramatically and I can’t have that.”

An angry laugh left her as she struggled harder. “Relationship? Is that what you call this?”

His eyes flicked between hers, his expression becoming hard. “Do you forget who you are talking to? Do you forget what deal we made?”

Elizabeth was breathing hard, but stopped struggling. “How could I forget? It haunts me every damn day.”

“Haunts you?” Crowley echoes. “That's how you see it?”

“I killed tonight Crowley,” She matched his tone. “So yes, at the moment, that's hanging very heavily at the moment. Now, can I continue drinking myself to death or do you want me to keep yelling?”

Crowley looks annoyed, but steps back, letting her free from the wall. Elizabeth fixes the towel, which had slipped slightly before returning to the table, picking out another drink.

“Help yourself.” She grunts. “No point in remaining sober if your planning on sticking around.”

He watched her closely, still feeling the anger burning away inside her. “You know Drake still needs taking out.”

Elizabeth's look was hard. “Then find another lap dog for it.”

“Darling, do you really think that I am asking you of spite?” He growled, stepping closer again. “I am asking you because you are the only one I trust.”

“You shouldn't,” Elizabeth warned, a little bit of panic crossing her expression. “You shouldn't trust me, deal or not. I quit Crowley, tonight was a small relapse but I don't intend to let it happen again.”

The closeness of him this time was abating her anger and making her heart hammer for a completely different reason, his gaze not leaving her.

“I explained to you then love, as I will explain to you now,” He said in a low voice. “Killing is in your blood, you've been doing it too long for it not to be, and the more you fight it, the worse than feeling is going to get.”

“I don't want it to be Crowley, not anymore.” Elizabeth tried to ignore the distance between them, tried to focus back on her anger, hoping to push him away. “I know we have a deal, but-“

“You can't back out of it.” Crowley closed the remaining distance, standing just before her, not touching. “We both know you can't.”

Elizabeth's hands gripped his jacket, using him for the support, jamming her eyes shut. “I want peace Crowley. I don't care whether you, Sam or Dean understand that, but I am so tired. I-“

She's stopped by his hand on her wrist, his fingers brushing along the bracelet she'd quite forgotten was there.

“And yet, that anger said otherwise.” He said it so calmly, so precisely, that it twisted her stomach.

She knew then that there was only one way this was getting out of her system tonight.

With a sharp tug on his jacket, Elizabeth pulled Crowley to her, her lips crashing into his. Crowley reacted instantly, a low growl leaving him as he pulled her flush against him, making her moan.

All her anger and frustration poured into that kiss and yet Crowley still won the battle for dominance, pinning her to the wall once again, very different intentions on his mind this time as he pulled the towel away sharply.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about needing him like this, about the desperate way her body would act, reacting to every touch, always needing more.

And he always gave it.

Elizabeth knew, and would always admit, that things definitely weren’t perfect in her life, this deal she had with Crowley was just an extra layer in the mess, an extra layer that had become unnecessarily complicated.

Things had started rocky, she remained defiant, questioning everything, and he was endlessly patient, something she couldn’t understand, after all, she wasn’t going along with what he wanted, and patience wasn’t exactly a common trait in a demon.

She’d quickly learnt though that this made things worse alter on. Crowley wasn’t someone who forgot.

Death threats were regular in those days, but she met his with equal threats of her own, even though she knew his were much more viable, although he never acted on them, always stating that it was much more amusing having her under his thumb.

Bobby’s death had hit her hard and she set herself on the war path against the Leviathan’s, often ignoring all of them and doing her own thing. It was the most distant she’d been from Sam and Dean in years. She wasn’t sure why, but Crowley had seemed very content on letting her go her own way.

Having then to stop Bobby from his own revenge had hurt her considerably, but it just made the rampage that followed worse, the Leviathan’s not knowing what hit them and her not caring about any sort of safety. She made sure she was sure she was front line with Dean and Castiel.

Which then led to Purgatory.

It wasn’t until after Purgatory that things seemed to change.

Crowley was…she wanted to say careful, but even that wasn’t right, but he suddenly became more flexible with what she was and wasn’t going to be sent out to do.

She didn’t understand it, but at the time, she wasn’t in much of a state to really care.

Then came their attempt at closing the gates of Hell.

This had taken a heavy toll on Elizabeth, it had taken a lot of effort to not tell the boys to back off, she knew if they succeeded, then she’d be locked well and truly into the deal.

Not to mention, Crowley probably wouldn’t hesitate to take her with him.

Elizabeth spent most that time so torn and conflicted that it was making the boys question her, and there was no way she could tell them the truth.

Watching them attempt to cure Crowley had made her physically ill, sitting curled up in a corner of the church holding her stomach, Dean having left her behind to look after Sam.

This was worse than just closing the gates.

If Crowley was cured and someone else got their hands on the contract, she was as good as dead.

“You know if you let me out Kitten, you wouldn’t have to stress.” Crowley had tried to bargain when Sam was out of the room.

“Right, and what would I tell them?” She asked coldly. “Don’t bother Crowley.”

“After all we’ve been through, you really want it to end like this?” He asked. “You want me top side and you with Hell Hounds on your heels, inevitably becoming another demons lap dog?”

Elizabeth had grit her teeth and jammed her eyes shut, her stomach churning. “Just shut up Crowley, you got a deal out of me already.”

“Well, I suppose I could always tell Moose-”

“You wouldn’t dare!” She’d been on her feet so quick that her head spun and she’d had to quickly lean on her knees.

“Lizzie?” Sam’s voice came. “You okay?”

She’d shot a dark look at Crowley before looking at Sam as he entered. “I’m fine. Just him. I know I should know better, but I guess I’m just to high strung lately.”

“I could fix that.” Crowley said, grinning.

Elizabeth had growled and sat back down. “How much longer is this going to take Sam?”

The more human Crowley became though, the more Elizabeth had seen a side that she never thought she would in a demon. He was broken in ways that she had never even thought possible.

It should’ve been pity that she felt that day, but instead, that was the moment she’d realised how she felt, every broken word leaving him making her hurt in a way that she never had before.

It had taken her a long time to come to terms with it.

Despite the boys being convinced she hated Crowley, it had been her job to look after him, and despite everything that had happened, it was exactly what she did.

Even after he got away from them.

She couldn’t explain it and no matter how many times he asked, she never answered.

It changed things drastically between them.

Elizabeth thought about all this as she washed up in the bathroom, significantly calmer now, but not really feeling much better about it all.

She couldn’t talk to anyone about this.

The movement of her wrist got her attention and she frowned slightly at the bracelet still locked around her wrist.

She couldn’t ever remember him giving her anything before, at least, not something she’d kept for very long, and definitely never something like this.

Her gaze moved along her wrist slightly, making out the red marks and she swallowed hard, quickly washing her hands again. The movement caused her gaze to catch herself in the mirror.

Elizabeth stared at herself, stared at the dark shadows under her eyes, the small grazes along her cheeks, the heavy lines of stress that were starting to set in and the completely dulled look in her eyes.

She swallows, licking her lips and fighting back the wave of emotions that went through her. In doing so, her gaze caught on her throat, dark marks rising up from where Crowley had made his claim.

The sob left her before she could stop it and then it was all tumbling out at once, bracing herself against the sink as hot tears poured down her cheeks and sobs tore through her body, making her shake, her knuckles turning white as she tried to control it, tried to reel it back in.

Arms wrapped carefully around her, making her cry harder but unable to pull away.

Crowley kissed the tip of her ear gently. “Come on Elizabeth, you need to rest.”

When she didn’t move, Crowley turned her in his arms before picking her up, where she automatically curled up against him, not bothering to stop them now. Crowley carried her back out to the bed before settling them both down, Elizabeth gasping for breath as she cried.

He held her tightly against him, his hands making gentle movements across her arms and back.

Elizabeth didn’t think much after that, eventually crying herself off to sleep.

Taglist

#supernatural #crowley #short #fanfic #mynewobsession #crowley week

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rosetyler42 · 5 years ago

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Part 2 of my OC asks by @duck-duck-duck-moose

Megera Richi

1. Like Lily, Meg often falls asleep over her desk or somewhere in her lab. Unlike Lily, Meg is VERY MUCH a crazy ball of energy that's hard to get to lay down. When she does go to sleep in her bed, she's more a cuddler, often clutching a terror teddy. Her sleep is rather deep since she often goes until she's exhausted, and her bedding is busier: probably something similar to Megamind's warning symbol pjs on her bed spread, maybe a purple pillow or something.

2. Dreams, usually. Hers tend to be even stranger than Lily's: Laser bears, giant robots, rock-em, sock-em kittens, doom syndicate villains, crazy weapons, her being a rock star, meeting dad's parents, death rays, leather and spikes, SNL skits, dehydrating people….all kinda of insanity. Despite being a hero, She does have more nightmares than Lily, being more bullied, insecure about her appearance and differences, and worrying about what her dead grandmother and grandfather would think of her being the city's hero. She also worries about her mom and dad getting hurt or used against her by some villain as well. Aaron Stoppabke features rather prominemtly in her dreams, too, including dates and them getting married.

3. Meg is usually very cheerful and more likely to be annoying than annoyed. She hates being put down for her head size or the blue streaks in her hair, or people saying girls can't be scientists too. If it got too bad, she'd be heavily tempted to dehydrate somebody. Despite this, she isn't as prone to violence or as quick to anger as Lily is.

4. Meg hates doing housework or cleaning. She'd rather work in the lab. Her hideout is rather cluttered like a garage, with old discarded projects littered around. She'd rather just grab something than cook anything.

5. Not sure about Meg's drawing skills. Some of Megamind's drawings look ratger simple while others look rather complex. Maybe a drawing of one of her heroic battles like Megamind's "Good VS Evil" thing. I coukd also see another moving sculpture even crazier than any Lily would make. She'd make a great futurism artist.

6. Her vocab is far more eccentric than Lily's, although still full of science and technical jargon. She may sound a bit more self-taught than Lily since her dad may or may not be formallt college educated but she's lightyears ahead in terms of technological ability and creativity. Her speech is peppered with mispronunciations, though this is mostly from hearing her dad say them or her thinking the mispronunciations were better/cooler. She's also picked up words from literature and books, and since her mom is a reporter she can be rather eloquent when needed if oddly metaphorical.

7. Pretty much like Kate McKinnon as Jillian Holtzmann or as Fiona Frizzle - Eccentric excited female mad scientist.

8. She's more likely to throw directions out and figure it out herself/make it all up. Directions get in the way of creativity.

9. Meg is a hugger and a cuddler. Basically a hyper energetic puppy in humanoid form. She's even more open about touch than Lily. She's even more tomboyish than Lily, often doing playful punches - although she's rather small and skinny.

10. Minion or her robotic friend Megabear usually does her first aid. Being half-alien, I don't know how effective hospitals would be for her. However, she hates not being able to get up and do things, and probably isn't as good at handling pain as Lily.

11. Meg can be very competitive and loves a challenge, but she's often more interested in having fun than vanquishing her opponent. To her, the battle between good and evil is more like a game or performance that she enjoys.

12. Meg isn't always the best at lying. She's a good actor and has a few of her mom's nosy reporter skills that she uses on missions, but in general she tends to be honest and has a hard time blurting out what she's thinking.

13. I'm not sure. She's half-alien, and we don't know how Megamind's immune system is. Most likely at least average for a human.

14. Meg does ALOT of things for the vine, aesthetic, or SCIENCE! She's very much a "Safety Lights are for dudes" type and many of her creations feature a tesla/topgear/garage/punk rock type of feel. Alot of leather, spikes, purple, and lightning bolts. Her style is a bit more rounded and feminine than her father, however.

15. A wrench or a lightning bolt. Wrenches are the sticks Brainbots like to play with and can be used to build things. Lightning bolts are her abd her dad's signiture.

16. DONUTS. Meg LOVES donuts. Especially jelly donuts.

17. Meg tries to be prepared for everything, but she's likely to charge into something without always thinking ot through.

18. She probably doesn't care that much about money. She probably knows more about it than Megamind thanks to Roxanne but she'd rather make things, buy things, or give it away than hoard it. She probably gives alot to orphanages and orphan charities and other charities for helping disadvantaged kids, knowing her dad had to grow up in a prison. She probably also gives to charities like the ASPCA because she strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn't be able to resist the sad animals.

19. Her biggest physical characteristics are her large head, the blue streaks in her brown hair, the blueish tinge to her skin, her round blueish-green eyes, her general thinness, and her helman hips.

20. She's even more open about what she likes than Lily is.

21. Despite being rather thin and relying alot on her mechanical know-how, she does alot of running, swinging, and jumping and hauling weapons around. She may not quite have the stamina of Lily, but she's rather healthy too.

22. She has a hard time focusing alot of times, but at the same time she can spend HOURS working in the lab on her own projects.

23. Much like Lily, the ambient sounds of her lab/lair is probably pleasing to her. I'm not sure what ones would be annoying. Again, she's not often annoyed and more likely to accidentally annoy others.

24. Coffee and donuts remind her of working with her dad, her dad teaching her abd them building things together. Fish reminds her of uncle Minion, and bar-b-que reminds her of her dad trying to use tge death ray for bar-b-que in the summer.

25. Meg probably isn't all that easily spooked, but she might draw her dehydrator gun on reflex if startled.

26. Meg isn'r nessecarily trying to be rude, she just marches to a different drummer and says what's on her mind. She does have alot of sass as well.

27. She's one of the least flexible of my OC, but she could probably touch her toes, and she can definitely curl up rather small.

28. She's rather hyper, excitable, amd bouncy, probably alot of speed walking abd running.

29. Spinning her gun gun-slinger style, looking around, dancing, checking her equipment/weapons, talking on her watch, etc.

30. Science and technology, Electricity, Fandom lit, kids shows, videogames, ACDC and other "Junior High Fantacy" music...most of it is pretty obvious.

31. Her sleep schedule is even more all over the place than Lily XD She's a bit more of a morning person though

32. It'd definitely be a creativity or energy increasing potion. Ingredients: Orchid (Love, Abundance, Creativity), Squash Blossom (Creativity, Vitality, balance), Coffee (Energy), Coriander (Lowers stress, inspires love, lifts moods), Sage (Increases energy, gets rid of negative energy)

33. Urban. Meg's been in an Urban environment most her life, living and growing up in Metro City.

34. Nothing. She's rather open and doesn't get easily embarrassed by much.

35. Meg makes even more bonds than Lily. She has alot of her old inventions as well as her father's. While she's cannibalized some of them to make nee ones she still has alot of them. She probably has held on to her old plushies and may even have her old capes from when she wad a kid. She hasn't actually had much experience with real animals, but she loves them. And she pack-bonds alot with people who are nice to her.

36. She isn't as stubborn as Lily, but she does have a good amount of stubborness and ego. However, she doesn't have as firey a temper, she's just a bit wild and crazy.

37. In Regular Universe? Not alot. Her responsibilities as her city's hero limit her travel opportunities. In WIR-Verse she LOVES game-jumping and going on the internet. In general, she loves traveling and seeing new things, but she also loves her home in Metro City and is happy there.

38. Rubbing the back of her neck, stammering, blabbering, brushing hair back, fiddling with whatever she's holding, blushing, it's alot easier to tell Meg's nervous.

39. She'd probably be very curious about supersitions and follow them just in case but wouldn't nessecarily really believe in them. Astrology she feels particularly drawn to being half-alien. She doesn't know about it telling the future or anything, but it's still fun and she feels a connection with the alien part of her. She isn't big on conspiracy theories though.

40. Mostly from her mom, dad, and Minion. She does try to correct her pronunciations sometimes to sound more normal and smarter but usually she doesn't mind at all.

@gothicthundra @stilldanytrash @that-obsessed-gay-girl @lovelylivelyv @thenerdynightprincess13

40 OC Development Questions - Part 2

My previous 40 question ask game has been picking up notes again, and you know what? I love making up these questions so much that I made more. Because why not.

Have some uncommon questions to help with developing your original characters! Feel free to send in some asks with some numbers–pick an oc, or I’ll pick randomly~

How does your character sleep? Peacefully, fitfully? What position do they sleep in? What is their typical bedding like?

Does your oc have dreams or nightmares? What are they like? Is there a recurring one?

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

How does your oc view housework? Do they absolutely hate it? Do they enjoy having their surroundings neat and tidy or do they not notice?

Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

Is your oc more likely to follow instructions exactly, throw them out and figure it out on their own, or make it all up? What are the results like?

Is your oc afraid of touch or do they actively seek it out? Is there a reason for this? What are the exceptions?

How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

How skilled at lying is your oc? How frequently do they lie? For what reason? What situations would be the exception?

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be? Why?

If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be? Does this match their favourite food?

How prepared is your oc? Ready for the worst no matter what, or completely lost in every situation? Would they have a medkit when it was needed? Would they have an umbrella if it rains?

How charitable is your oc? Or are they more stingy with their resources and money?

If someone was describing your oc to someone who had never met them, what distinguishing features would they mention? How would one identify your oc in a crowd?

Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

What is your oc’s stamina like? Would they be able to run a marathon, or not run at all? What about walking/another physical activity? How are they with exercise in general?

How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

What is the most annoying sound to your oc? What’s the most pleasant? Is there any reason?

What smells bring back specific memories to your oc? What are those memories like?

How jumpy or easily spooked is your oc? Do they have a fight or flight reflex to being startled, or are they never startled at all?

How polite is your oc? Do they do everything with the utmost courtesy, or do they completely refuse to say please and thank you?

How flexible is your oc? Can they touch their toes or do they have trouble just sitting down because of how stiff they are?

What is your oc’s typical walking like? Do they speed-walk everywhere, do they take quick short steps or long paces? On their tiptoe, the sides or heels of their feet? How loud are their footsteps?

If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be? (When the player stays still for too long, the animation that plays.)

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

What five ingredients would you throw into a cauldron to make a potion based on your oc? How would you cook/mix them? What would the potion do?

Describe your oc’s favourite environment. Urban or rural? Wild or controlled? What’s the climate like?

What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

How easily does your oc get attached to things? Does everything have a sentimental value to them, or do they see nothing as more valuable than its practical use? What about with people/animals?

How stubborn is your oc? Are they easily convinced of the opposite opinion, do they not agree but let it happen anyways? Or do they cause conflicts with their inability to budge in their decisions?

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

What signs tell that your oc is nervous? Do they fidget, is it in their expression or the way they say things? Or are they very skilled at hiding it?

How superstitious your oc? Do they end up following them ‘just in case’? Or are superstitions incredibly important to your oc? What are some that they believe? What about the ones they don’t?

Are there any habits your oc has picked up from people around them? Do they know where they’re from? Does your oc try to stop themselves from doing it?

#megamind x roxanne #megamind #megera #meg richie #meg richi #megera richi #megera richie #megarox #oc asks #oc #shipchild oc #ship child oc #aaron x meg #oc x oc #my ocs are my children #my ocs are my babies #my ocs stuff

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saving-people-shipping-things · 8 years ago

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Sick of Losing Soulmates: Part 2

Title: Sick of Losing Soulmates: Part 2

Pairing: Cas x Reader

Theme song: “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by Dodie

Word count: 2,034

Request: @amy-de-l-abc requested a Cas fic and I’d had this one mulling around for a while now, so here it is! :)

A/N: Part 2 and we’re still not done! There’s a lot more story here than I thought . . . not that I’m complaining. ;)

Part 1

Crowley had a thing for dramatics.

There was a perfectly good diner just down the road. You could've even gone to a McDonald's. You would've killed for a cup of coffee. But no, you had to meet in an alleyway. And, of course, he had to be late.

You were the first to arrive there, and if you hadn't worked with him for so long, you would have wondered if you were in the wrong place. But experience told you he was biding his time, waiting for the perfect entrance.

He appeared in the fog, stepping into the moonlit slit of the street. You knew better than to bring weapons, especially when you were already on such thin ice, but it didn't stop you from feeling naked without them.

"So," he murmured, but each word sounded like a gunshot to your stomach. "Tell me. What the bloody hell were you thinking, Kitten, when you told Feathers about the ritual?"

"I don't know," you said, which was the wrong answer, because his fingers twitched at his sides. One wrong move and he could blow you into smithereens. Or worse, go after the others. "I was trying to buy you time. Cas was going to go after them tonight--"

"We could have handled it!" Crowley shouted. You took a step back, knowing there was nowhere to go, but needing the distance anyway. "What's one bloody angel against an army of demons?"

"He'd already slaughtered half of them!" You argued. "Did you really want to lose any more?"

Crowley shook his head at you, his jaw clenched. "You seem to forget, they're just as expendable as you are. If Castiel had killed two or twenty, it wouldn't have mattered. He wouldn't have been able to stop the summoning. But now, thanks to you, he and the Winchesters know exactly what I'm up to! You betrayed me!"

You curled your hands into fists, trying your best attempt at a Dean Winchester-worthy sneer. "I'm not expendable. You need me, like it or not. There's no one else as close to Cas or Sam and Dean as I am."

Gravel crunched nearby. Both you and Crowley flicked your gaze behind you, but everything was shrouded in shadow.

"I'll find another," Crowley said. "Moose and Squirrel are all too eager to find another member of their boy band. The Harvelles, Charlie, Kevin--you know what they all have in common? They all got close to the Winchesters, and they're all dead."

Crowley's words constricted your heart, squeezing it like it was caught in someone's fist. You'd dug yourself into one hell of a hole this time. It was too deep to climb out of. "So what now? The damage is done. Are you going to kill me or what?"

"No." Crowley sighed, as if not murdering you caused him immense pain. "As much fun as that would be, you can still be of some use to me. For whatever reason, the others still trust you. Keep Castiel and the Winchesters away from my site in Wisconsin. This is your last chance."

"What happens if I run out of chances?" You asked.

Crowley raised his eyebrows and your veins turned to ice. "You'd best hope we don't reach that point."

Whenever you came back to the bunker after a meeting with Crowley, you felt like a teenager sneaking home after a party you'd been specifically told not to go to. But every time you did come back, you'd managed to do so without any difficulty. Sometimes, if it was in the dead of night like tonight, they didn't even notice you were gone.

Not this time.

You knew from the second you stepped through the door. Something was wrong. A light was on in the kitchen. Now that in and of itself didn't mean anything; Dean often woke up in the early morning in need of a snack or drink. But tonight you heard voices. Muttering, angry voices. Why was everyone up?

You racked your brains for an excuse as to why you were out, but came up with only feeble lies by the time you reached the kitchen and dropped your keys on the counter. And as soon as the three men you'd come to think of as family turned their eyes to you, every one of them slipped your mind.

With the clatter of your keys, the mutterings turned to dead silence.

Sam leaned against the counter, his eyes wide and droopy like a puppy that had been kicked by its owner. Dean stopped his pacing when you entered the room, his arms crossed, every inch of him tense and ready to punch something. Cas almost went unnoticed, the darkness of the corner of the room engulfing him, but you'd be able to find his eyes in a pitch black grave. They shone electric blue, but the love you normally embraced in his every gaze was nowhere to be found. He looked furious.

He looked like he wanted to kill you.

"Wow, was there a party I wasn't invited to?" You joked feebly.

"Where were you, Y/N?" You'd never heard Dean's voice more calm and collected than it was now. He was every bit the calculated cop, grilling you for answers, and it scared the hell out of you.

"Couldn't sleep," you said. "Went for a walk."

Sam scoffed, but said nothing. You tried to meet his eyes, but he was intent on inspecting his shoes.

"B.S." Dean said each letter like they were separate words. "I'm gonna give you one last shot. Where were you?"

"I--"

Cas' voice startled you. You weren't sure if the angel was going to speak at all, but there was his gravelly tone. "We all know where she was, Dean."

"Cas," Dean said more sharply, turning to look at him over his shoulder. "Give her a chance. She deserves that much."

You were surprised Dean was being rational, but you supposed it made sense the more you watched his squinted green eyes. He was daring you to screw up, daring you to let him down. Because everyone else in his life had let him down once before, so why shouldn't you? Would you be the first to break the chain?

But you just weren't that brave.

"I told you," you mumbled. "I went for a walk."

Sam scoffed again, and this time it was he who began to pace the kitchen, rubbing his face with a hand. "Unbelievable."

Dean placed his hands on the table, leaning forward so he was stooping to your level. If looks could kill . . . "Y/N we saw you. How stupid do you think we are? You think you can just tell Cas you're getting some air and disappear for half an hour?"

"You followed me?" You would've given anything for your voice not to have squeaked like it did.

"Of course we followed you!" Dean shouted. "We heard every damn word you said! Now riddle me this. Why, after everything we've been through, as a family, would you meet Crowley in the dead of night?"

You said nothing. You didn't even try to stand up for yourself. What was the point? All you could do now was foolishly hope there was something that could be done to save them. You were certainly past the point of no return.

Cas cursed under his breath and slammed a fist against the wall. The dull thud rang in your ears, but it felt like he had punched the air right out of you.

"Y/N." Sam said. His hand twitched toward you for a second, then fell back to his side. "Please."

Please tell me you weren't doing what I think you were doing. Please tell me you had a good reason. Please help me understand how you could do this.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Your eyes seared with tears that would not conform to gravity's wishes.

"Are you working for Crowley?"

There was Cas, direct, sharp, killing you with every passing second as he glared at you. You wanted to fall into his arms and only breathe him in. You wanted to forget parts of you even existed. You wanted him and only him. You wanted to be the solution to the pain on his face, not the cause of it.

Don't run out of chances.

You couldn't risk any more than you already were. They already knew too much. What would Crowley do? Could you even fix this?

You refused to cry. You stared down your beloved angel, your soulmate. "Yes."

It happened in a flash of movement. One second he was across the room and the next you were slammed against the wall, all of the oxygen leaving your body in a single gasp. Cas swore, violently, pinning you there with one hand. Whatever he was about to do to you, you deserved. Even as Sam shouted something you couldn't make out over the ringing in your ears, you kept your eyes wide open. You needed to see Cas' rage. You needed to see what you'd done to him.

"Cas!"

Dean yanked Cas off you, and you crumpled, barely able to stagger back to your feet. Something warm and sticky trickled down your face. You had a bloody nose, probably from the impact of Cas' attack. Had he done that? The pain hadn't registered.

Cas struggled against Dean's attempts to restrain him. It was in this display of anger, you knew. It was over.

"I trusted you!" He screamed. "For a year, I trusted you!"

"Cas, hey!" Dean pulled tighter. "She's not worth it, man!"

Thud. Another emotional blow to your stomach. Not worth it.

"How long?" Sam asked. You could tell he'd been burning to ask since you'd walked in the room.

You moved your hand away from your bleeding nose. "Nine months."

Sam laughed humorlessly. "Nine months. You'd barely been here for three."

"Sam--"

Sam didn't wait to hear the rest of your sentence. He shook his head, turned his back, and left.

The blood and the weight of the room left a metallic taste on your tongue. Dean finally let Cas go. They were both calmer, but breathing hard.

You reached your clean hand toward Cas. "Cas . . . I loved you. I love you. I know you did, too. That's always been real."

"No," he snapped. "I fell for a lie. That's not love."

And there was the final blow. Cas vanished, the whirl of his trench coat still whispering in the air long after he'd gone. You clutched the counter behind you for support, the knife twisting in your heart.

"Dean," you begged the man, even though you knew from his shadowed face it was pointless to hope. "Please . . ."

"You need to leave."

He didn't wait to watch you go. None of them did. He left the same way Sam did, and you were alone and aching in the kitchen.

And an hour later, Crowley was standing in the same alley again, because somehow he just knew. He knew you'd screwed it all up. He knew that you'd tried, that you'd lied, that you'd done everything you could think of to salvage the deal you and Crowley had made. He knew that you would beg on your hands and knees, that you'd try to tell him that you didn't even tell the others you hadn't wanted to work for the king of Hell, that it was all ands elaborate plan for their protection. He knew that you'd try to make this work.

And you knew that it wouldn't.

You should have just told Cas the truth.

You were dead anyways.

And who knew what would happen to him now?

You stepped out of your car. Crowley was flanked by two demons. Their blades glinted in the dying moonlight.

"Hello, Kitten," Crowley said.

You stepped forward, still covered in your own blood and despair. They could do all they wanted with you now. Maybe it'd be enough to keep them entertained and distracted. Maybe your sacrifice could mean safety for the others.

Crowley's lip curled.

"We're going to have so much fun."

Part 3

Send me an ask to be added to the tag list(s)!

Tag list for Sick of Losing Soulmates: @amy-de-l-abc

Tag list for all future fics: @eileenlikesyou-maybe

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death2thevirgin · 8 years ago

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Funny Valentine

Characters: Sam, Andi ( @ellen-reincarnated1967)

Word Count: ~1,200

Warnings: Does fluff overload count? Maybe a little language

A/N: I wrote this for my Funny Valentine @ellen-reincarnated1967, I know she is a big Sam girl and she told me she wanted something that included the prompt “Would you be my funny Valentine.” I hope you like it Andi and I hope you’re feeling better!

@chelsea072498 , thank you for hosting this and offering to post it for me, I just decided to post it myself though!

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

February 8,2017

Where to begin, these last few weeks have been Hell. Well pretty damn close to Hell. I still can’t believe Sam and Dean were caught and taken to some top secret military jail. Yea Cas, Mary and I found them but not before they could make some stupid deal with Billy, thankfully Can put a stop to that. Now we just wait for the other shoe to drop. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I lost either of them, but I would be devastated if I lost Sam. I haven’t even told him how I feel about him; how much I love him. If anything happened to him, I don’t know if I would be able to go on. We are still on the hunt for Kelly and Lucifer’s unborn, that keeps us busy. Maybe when this is over I will be able to tell him how I feel. When we don’t have to focus on the world ending.

As Always, Andi

Sam places the journal back into the desk drawer where he found it. Still not able to believe what he just read. He always had a crush on Andi. How could he not, she was beautiful, smart, caring and had a laugh that lift any mood. But it wasn’t just that, he loved how cranky she would get if she didn’t get her morning latte. He loved how her face would light up anytime she saw a kitten or cat. She was strong and loyal to a fault, never turning her back on the ones she loved even if that was a risk to her. Never did Sam think she could return his feelings.

He felt bad for snooping but lately she had been acting different and he wanted to make sure she was ok. Stumbling across her journal was a complete accident, but he is glad he did.

Quickly thinking how to handle this Sam comes up with a plan, making his way to the library where Andi was. “Hey Andi, I need help with something” His words drawing her attention from the book in front of her.

“Do you find a case or something?” she places the book down giving him her undivided attention.

“No nothing like that.” He pauses second guessing his plan. “Uh- its more personal than that.”

“Oh- you ok Sammy?” She looks at him concern in her eyes.

“Yea, yea nothing serious… it’s just Dean and I made a bet a couple weeks ago about who could have a better Valentines day date. I had a date lined up but she bailed last minute, so it looks like I’m gonna loose the bet. Unless I find someone else.” Sam looks at her giving her his best puppy look.

“Sam are you asking me to be you Valentine?” She lets out a soft chuckle.

“Andi, will you be my funny Valentine, so I can kick Dean’s ass in this bet?” Sam wished to himself his plan would work.

“I would love to, but you better wine and dine me moose!” Andi feigns seriousness before bursting into laughter.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to ruin this chance.” Sam whispers to himself.

~~~

Valentines day quickly approached and Andi found herself looking in her closet unsure of what to wear. Most of her clothing were made for hunting nothing that would look good for a date. Deep down she knew Sam only asked her so he wouldn’t loose the bet but she couldn’t help but feel giddy, this was everything she has ever wanted. After digging deep into her closet she comes across a laced red dress, a dress from her life before hunting. She pairs it with her favorite boots and cropped leather jacket, finishing it off with some black and silver bangles. It was the perfect outfit, maybe she could change Sam’s mind about her for real.

She finishes the look off with some light make-up and curls in her hair. Once she is pleased she heads to the main room where she is to meet Sam. When she enters Sam’s jaw drops, he couldn’t believe she could ever look anymore beautiful than she normally did. Standing there in that red dress she left him speechless.

Sam didn’t look too bad himself, he was wearing a silk button up black shirt and black slacks. They made their way to the restaurant Sam had his reservation. Andi could tell it was a nice place, but that wasn’t Sam’s style. She went along with it anyway, remembering another girl was suppose to be here and not her. It filled her with sadness to think she was his second choice.

They take their seats at their table near a corner of the restaurant, it was nice a quiet. Sam’s hands are sweaty, he rubs them up and down his thighs. He thinks through what he will say to her, how he will confess his feelings. They carry on with light conversation through out the meal, Sam starts to tell Andi his feelings about a hundred times but gets too scared. Andi suggests going for a walk through the park and he agrees. After Sam pays the bill he leads her to the park.

“So I actually got you something Andi.” Sam stops and she faces him. “I know they’re your favorite.” Sam pull a pack or Reeses and Twizzlers from his coat.

“Oh my god, these are they best. Thanks Sammy!” She jumps up and down and throws her hands around his neck. Normally Sam hates being called Sammy but not when she called him that. When she calls him Sammy he gets a warm feeling in his chest. “How did you know these were my favorite.”

“I have a confusion to make.” Sam notices his hands found hers and he smiled softly. “I read you journal.”

“You what-“ He can see the anger rising in her eyes.

“Please don’t be mad, I didn’t mean too… I –I stumbled across it, but I am glad I did.” He places his hand on her cheek, he can tell she is nervous. “I know how you feel about me because of it.”

She looks down, shaking her head slightly. “I’m sorry Sammy. I know this is going to make shit weird. I would understand if you want me to leave, if things are to weird now.”

“What, What… that is not what I meant, not at all. I am happy about it because I’ve felt the same way and was always to afraid to say anything.” Sam lifts her chin up, seeing a small smile start to form. “I’ve loved you since we first met.” He smiles then takes her lips with his, kissing her passionately.

Forever Taglist

@16wiishes

@notnaturalanahi

@illbeguiltyifyouwantmetobe

@tom-is-in-my-tardis

@ally-miller16

@impala-dreamer

@iwantthedean

#Funny Valentine #Sam x Reader #Sam WInchester #Sam Winchester imagine #sam imagines #Supernatural #SPN

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wellimhavinga3outof10day · 8 years ago

Text

The Femme Fatale

Description: When Betty realizes she has feelings for Veronica, their upcoming spa weekend becomes a source of anxiety.

Read on AO3

Betty smiled as she saw Veronica headed her way. She closed her locker and waited. Veronica smiled back and Betty felt her heart flip-flop, the way it used to for Archie, the way she wouldn’t quite admit meant something more than friendship. She bit her lip and looked down at Veronica’s shoes – black kitten heels that definitely wouldn’t fly for their Chem lab.

“Hey, Bets,” Veronica said.

Betty raised her eyes to meet the other girl’s. “Hey. Good morning?”

“So far, so good.” Veronica adjusted the coat slung over her arm. “I had fun last night. Even if I got about three hours of sleep after that movie. Remind me again why I let you convince me horror movies are funny?”

Betty laughed. “Some horror movies are funny. I admit that one was an exception.”

When Veronica laughed too, Betty felt her cheeks flush under the other girl’s attention. Veronica reached out and touched her arm, her thumb rubbing circles on the inside of Betty’s elbow. “Well, you’ll have to make it up to me. Flowers, maybe? Yellow’s for friendship.”

Betty wondered what the colour for I have a massive fucking crush on you was. Not that she did. Veronica just... exuded something special that Betty was drawn too. And it was probably nothing. It would go away in a few weeks when she got used to Veronica’s presence, to her smile, to the way she just reached out and touched Betty and immediately made her feel calmer. Yeah. It was a passing phase. A normal reaction to getting used to a new person in your life.

Veronica was talking – something about massages and a spa just out of town – and Betty nodded along. She didn’t notice that Jughead had stopped beside them until Veronica’s eyes glanced to him. Betty quickly did a double take and tried to smile at him as brightly as she’d smiled at Veronica.

“Tell me you have the math homework,” Jughead said.

Betty blinked. “Why?”

“Because I probably didn’t do it and I’m definitely at risk of failing if I don’t hand in yet another assignment.”

“You know I don’t like cheating.”

Jughead saluted. “Sir, yes, sir. But I really don’t have time for you to tutor me and, anyways, I’m not sure you’re actually better at math than I am. You’re just a lot less lazy. So help a guy out? I don’t want to sit through that drivel for another year.”

Betty stared at him blankly.

Then Veronica took her hand in both of hers and held it up to her chin. Betty lost her breath momentarily, her eyes flicking to Veronica’s puppy dog eyes. “Please, Bets?” Veronica said. “If only so he leaves us alone.”

Jughead winked. “Love you too, Ronnie. Don’t forget, Archie will believe me if I say you have crabs.”

To stop Veronica from murdering Jughead, Betty said, “Okay, fine,” and started to dig in her bag for the math homework. She handed the stapled pages to Jughead. “I need those back at lunch.”

Jughead saluted again and walked away.

Betty watched Veronica as she watched him walk away. When she turned back, Betty made a show of looking like she’d been watching Jughead too. Veronica rolled her eyes. “He’s a weird guy, isn’t he?”

“You’ll get used to him.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Betty shrugged. “Jughead doesn’t really like anyone. Except Archie. And even that’s been off and on for years.”

“Likes him, likes him?”

Betty laughed, shook her head. “No. Jughead doesn’t like like anyone. At all. Not even Archie.”

Veronica shrugged, then grabbed Betty’s hand again. Betty felt a thrill shoot through her at the sudden contact, at the smile on Veronica’s face. “What?” Betty said.

“It’s a long weekend,” she said. “Tell me you’ll come up to the city with me. We can find a nice spa and spend the weekend naked and pampering ourselves.”

Betty’s brain short-circuited at the word naked but she managed a nod and a smile. “Sounds great.”

The bell rang, giving Betty sudden relief from Veronica’s touch and her smile. Veronica backed away with a frown and a childlike wave. Betty waved back, watching until the other girl turned, and then headed the other way, forcing herself to take deep breaths.

She was lost deep in her thoughts by the time someone bumped into her.

“Jughead?” Betty frowned and looked around the hallway like maybe he was a hallucination. But, sure enough, he was walking right beside her. “I thought you were going the other way.”

“I was,” he said. “I came back as per my duty as your friendly neighbourhood asexual to tell you that that wasn’t straight and neither are you. Thank you for your time.”

Before Betty could open her mouth to respond, Jughead had turned and disappeared into the hallway crowd. She stopped cold, waiting for her brain to catch up to what the hell had just happened. Her mouth open, her eyes over her shoulder, she didn’t move until Kevin laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched.

“You all right?” he asked.

Betty nodded. “Of course. We should get going.”

Kevin smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He started to talk about something but Betty couldn’t focus on it. She had a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ignoring her own feelings was something she could do. Fighting with herself was easy; she did it every day of her life. But convincing Jughead of something he didn’t believe, that was near impossible.

At lunch, Betty skirted around her usual table in favour of finding Jughead in the back corner, alone and bent over his laptop. She slammed down her tray across from him and he didn’t even look up.

“Jughead,” she said in her most serious voice.

“What’s up, blondie?”

“You can’t just go around saying things like that to people and then disappearing.” Betty sat down on the bench and fixed her best glare on Jughead’s bent head. “It’s like dropping a bomb and then refusing to accept responsibility for the consequences.”

“Please. I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.”

“Yes, you did! Or didn’t.” Betty pressed her lips together and curled her hands into fists. She felt her nails bite into her skin. Shaking her head, she steadied herself with a breath. “What you said wasn’t true.”

For the first time, Jughead looked up, every inch of his expression doubtful. “While denial is an interesting plot device and an annoying one, too, it doesn’t usually work that well in real life.”

Betty shrugged. “I don’t have to listen to you. I don’t even know why I would listen to you. It’s not like you know anything about this sort of stuff.”

“True, but you’ve got to realize that if even I can tell two people have sexual tension, you’re in too deep.”

Betty opened her mouth to bite back a response, but closed it quickly. She had no good retort to that. As stupid as it might sound, Jughead actually had a point. She sighed. “Fine. Let’s say you’re right. Not, of course, actually admitting that you’re right, but if you were right, then what should I do?”

Jughead snorted and shook his head. He went back to looking at his laptop. “Sorry, Bets. That is not my department. Go talk to Kevin.”

Betty slammed the laptop closed and Jughead pulled his fingers out just in time. Keeping her hand on top of the laptop, Betty said, “Listen to me very closely. You got me into this mess, so you’re gonna get me out of it.”

“Technically Veronica got you into it,” he said. “I accept absolutely no responsibility for other people’s hormones.”

“Please, Jughead?” Betty didn’t quite know what had caused the break in her voice but it did make Jughead’s expression soften ever so slightly. “I can’t tell Kevin because he’ll just tell the next five people he talks to. And Archie won’t get it and it’s not like I can just tell Veronica—”

“I’ve never gotten that, actually. Explain. Why when you have a crush on someone can you not just tell them and get it over with?”

Betty stared at him for a second and then laughed. She covered her face with her hands. After a long moment, she shook her head and looked back at him. “You’re going to be no help at all, are you?”

“Sorry.”

Betty nodded and slid off of the bench. “You know you can sit with us, right? Archie’s not mad at you anymore.”

“Honestly? Archie mooning over Veronica. You mooning over both of them. Kevin talking about Moose?” Jughead shook his head. “I’d much rather be alone with my laptop.”

“Right. Thanks for talking to me.”

“Happy to be of no help at any time.”

Betty laughed and turned away as he reopened his laptop. She threaded back through the tables to find her friends and plopped down beside Kevin. He smiled, she smiled back, he stole a fry. Betty stared at Veronica who stared at Archie who stared down at his guitar. It figured, really. Whether Betty wanted the boy next door or the femme fatale, she ended up the unwanted goody-two-shoes.

For the rest of the week, Betty suffered more than she had in her whole life. Knowing that she had feelings for Veronica was infinitely worse than denying that she had feelings for Veronica. She smiled through innocent touches, tried not to stare too much during cheer practice – really, those black short shorts were unfair – and stayed completely stoic when Veronica told her Archie had asked her out. Betty didn’t know who she was more jealous over. She didn’t really understand anything she was feeling anymore.

“He said Friday night and I asked if we could do right after school because we’re going to drive into the city Friday night and he said that worked for him and... Betty. Oh, Betty, tell me if this is too hard for you and I will cancel in an instant. I swear.”

Betty almost flinched away from Veronica grabbing her hands but forced herself not to. With a smile, she shook her head. “No. You were right. Archie doesn’t like me back and I have to get over that. You two go. Have a good time. I’ll see you afterwards.”

Veronica squealed and pulled Betty into a tight hug. A hug that Betty didn’t reciprocate all that readily. All she could think of as she pulled Veronica to her was that the last time they had been this close. The last time Veronica had grabbed her unexpectedly, they’d been kissing Faux lesbian kissing. Betty wasn’t sure how fake it had been, not on her part. Veronica, on the other hand, seemed not to remember the incident at all.

When Veronica pulled away, Betty gave her her best good luck smile. And as soon as she walked away, Betty let her face fall. She gripped the grates of her locker, felt the metal scrape into her skin, and fought to breathe. Fought hard not to cry.

Soon, Jughead found her and spent several seconds trying to figure out what the hell to do before he pulled her into a hug. She gripped him tight and sobbed into his shoulder, tried to focus on the soothing tones of his voice in her ear.

Jughead unintentionally became her rock after that. He spent the next two days at her side – even at lunch – and would pull her attention away every time Veronica or Archie or both of them lapsed into anything romantic. Betty relied on Jughead in those moments, probably too much. But it kept her from cutting up her hands with her nails, from breaking down in the middle of class, and outing herself to both of them as not okay. And bisexual.

Friday came, the last bell rang, and Betty found herself at her locker with Jughead at her side. He had offered to walk her home and watch bad movies with her until the date was over. But now she had other worries.

“Veronica booked a hotel room with one bed,” Betty said as she shoved books into her locker. “She bought a freaking couples massage package so that they wouldn’t separate us. I don’t know if she’s actually trying to kill me or if she’s just never met a girl who likes girls before or maybe she just doesn’t know how freaking adorable she is, but I can’t do it. I can’t. I thought the hardest thing would be her and Archie going on a date, but no. It’s the fact that they’re going to go on a date and then we’re going to spend a weekend surrounded by roses while she goes on and on and on about every single detail.”

“Breathe,” Jughead said unhelpfully. “Just tell her you don’t wanna talk about it. Tell her it’s too hard.”

“But I already told her I was fine with it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you did that.”

Betty slammed her locker shut. “Because. If Archie doesn’t like me and she doesn’t like me, but they do like each other, then I shouldn’t stand in their way. They shouldn’t not date just because I’m hopelessly in love with both of them.”

Jughead nodded even though Betty could tell he didn’t quite understand. “Would this be the wrong time to suggest polyamory?”

Betty laughed. “Yes, it would be.”

Jughead smirked. “Sorry.”

Betty pushed him away and they started to walk out of the building. Once outside, Betty caught a glimpse of Archie opening the door of his dad’s car for Veronica. She smiled at him, the same way she smiled at Betty, and he smiled back, in a way that he had never done for Betty. Betty lost her breath at the sight, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

Jughead wrapped his arm around her waist. “No use looking at that.”

“I can’t do this. I really, really can’t.”

“Fake sick.”

“I’m too nice.”

“Being nice sounds awful.” Jughead pulled her in the opposite direction of Archie and Veronica. “I mean, I get it’s like, your aesthetic and everything, but remind me to never try it. I much prefer to be the bitchy emo friend.”

Despite herself, Betty laughed and leaned into his side. She let him talk the whole way back to her house and even let him talk straight through the first movie. Her worries changed from being about Archie and Veronica to being about what her mom was going to say when she came home and found Jughead in her bed. And by the time Veronica texted to say that she was on her way to pick her up, Betty almost felt like she could do this.

In Veronica’s car, Betty sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window at the rapidly passing fields. The sun had gone down a long time ago, leaving the night sparkling with stars. Betty could hear her own breath over the radio crooning out bad pop music that Veronica sang along with under her breath.

It had been an hour of this. Betty, silent, pressed against the window. Veronica, singing, her hands tight on the steering wheel. And Betty couldn’t take it anymore. She broke the spell with the words, “How was it?”

Veronica glanced at her, then looked back at the road. “I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

Betty shrugged, shifted so that she was sitting upright. “I want to be a good friend. I can’t say it’ll be fun to listen to, but... if you’re excited about it, then I’m excited for you. And all I really want is for you two to be happy, so... tell me how it went?”

“Thanks.” Veronica smiled and her grip on the wheel loosened a little. “But I don’t think me and Archie are going to be happy together anytime soon.”

Betty frowned. “What do you mean? I thought at Cheryl’s...”

Veronica shrugged, shook her head. When she looked at Betty, a sad smile lined her crimson lips. “You know how you can have physical chemistry with someone but everything else is just... flat? We spent the entire evening either in awkward silence or disagreeing about politics. It was a disaster.”

“How?” Betty turned down the volume on the radio and turned in her seat to watch Veronica. “You two are friends. You have plenty to talk about and a lot in common.”

“Dating’s different, Bets.” Veronica let one hand slide to the bottom of the wheel and she drummed her fingers against the leather. “All of a sudden it’s just you and them. And it either goes really well or falls flat on its face. Rarely is there an in between. Me and Archie, we fell flat on our faces and I kind of wish we had never tried at all.”

“But you know now. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Maybe? But who knows? Monday morning we could be friends again or we could not even be speaking to each other. And on top of all that, we hurt you and we ruined the memory of what happened in that closet. Is any of that worth it just to know we’re not compatible? We could have been happily suffering our mutual pining romance for the rest of our natural lives. Maybe that would have been better.”

Betty stayed silent. She couldn’t help but apply that speech to herself. Was life better now that she’d told Archie about her feelings? Or had they irreparably ruined something special? And then there was Veronica. If what she was saying was true, then maybe Betty needed to keep her mouth shut. She could break her heart all over again, ruin what she had with Veronica, and destroy the memory of their kiss. All in one fell swoop.

“Hey,” Veronica said after a minute. Her tone was light, a smile back on her face. “Are you all right? You seem sadder about this than I am.”

Betty shrugged, forced a happy expression. “I just really wanted you two to be happy.”

“You’re sweet, Bets.” Veronica reached over and squeezed her hand. “But I’m happy. I’m with you. We’re on our way into the city for a weekend of pampering and I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. Can you?”

Betty watched Veronica’s mouth move around the words like a shifting bloodstain. Her lashes, dark and luscious, closed over brown eyes. Betty shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Veronica raised Betty’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. Betty smiled, weak, and promised herself she could make it through the weekend without ruining things.

Three hours later, Betty lay on her back in the queen bed with Veronica at her side. She stared at the ceiling, drummed her fingers against her stomach, and tried not to listen to Veronica moaning at her side. Whatever the other girl was dreaming about, it was far from PG and Betty didn’t have the guts to wake her.

She’d nearly gone over her texting limit since they’d gotten to the hotel ninety minutes ago. Not that that had helped anything at all as Jughead continued to prove that his greatest skill was being unhelpful in crisis situations. She’d almost broken down and texted Kevin instead, but he knew where she was and would instantly make the connection between her anonymous crush and Veronica.

Betty let out a deep sigh. She turned her head to the side, watched Veronica shift in her sleep. She faced away from Betty, so all Betty could really see was the rise and fall of her chest, the restlessness of her legs as she kicked off the covers. On a whim, Betty reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Veronica’s face. Then, unable to stop herself, she continued to brush her fingers through the raven locks.

Jughead had been right. She was in too deep.

The next morning, Veronica woke her by whistling. Betty spent a few extra minutes with her eyes half-closed, a smile on her face as Veronica pranced around the room in her tiny black bathrobe. Then Betty yawned, stretched, and sat up on the mattress.

“Just in time!” Veronica clapped her hands together. “Room service is on its way. Our first treatment of the day is in an hour – I said we preferred to do mani-pedis first, is that okay? – and then we’re off! Just two girls in love.”

“What?”

Veronica laughed as she sat down on the end of the bed, inches from Betty’s feet. She reached out and grabbed Betty’s legs. “We’re doing a couples package, remember? That means a lot of people mistaking us for girlfriends and telling us how cute we are together and how they wish they were lesbians.”

Betty laughed nervously. “Couldn’t we just tell them we booked it as friends?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Betty shrugged. She didn’t want to admit that the fun in that was her maintaining a thin hold on her sanity. Veronica patted her legs, then got up to pace around the room some more. Betty followed suit. She pulled one of the hotel’s fluffy white bathrobes over her pink pajamas and sat down at the desk, picked up the newspaper.

Only seconds later, Veronica grabbed the paper from her as a knock sounded on the door. “The news is only going to stress you out,” she said as she headed for the door. She opened it and ushered in the room service cart, helped to set it up on the little table at the side of the room. She thanked the man who had brought it, tipped him, and then closed the door behind him.

Betty wandered over to take a look at the food and sat down when Veronica pressed down on her shoulders. “This weekend is all about relaxing,” she said. “I know it’s been stressful lately and we’ve been up and down and everything’s been twisted upside down and backwards, but I’m hoping we can get back to normal here.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Betty’s head. “I love you, Betty Cooper.”

“And I... love you, Veronica Lodge.” Betty fought to keep the words light as Veronica sat down across from her. She dipped her eyes to her food fast, started to shovel it into her mouth. She nodded along to the conversation, let Veronica feed her bits of this or that from her plate. Betty could hear her heartbeat and she wasn’t quite sure how Veronica couldn’t.

They moved on from breakfast and on to their first treatment. Conversation got easier and soon Betty was laughing, returning Veronica’s light touches, and smiling whenever someone complimented them on what a great couple they made. Okay, so maybe Betty was able to do that because she’d stopped reminding herself that they weren’t a couple. She’d gone with the flow and accepted every word of praise, leaned into Veronica’s touch, and didn’t stop herself from staring at the other girl. She was perfectly aware that the entire illusion would shatter once they got back to their room and that that would break her heart. But she couldn’t stop herself from allowing the dream to be real, if only for a day.

She faked fatigue when they got back to the room after dinner and Veronica left her alone to change into her pajamas, brush her teeth, and get ready for bed. Looking into the mirror, Betty pursed her lips and swallowed hard. She could hear the soft buzz of the TV in the other room, knew Veronica was sitting on the bed, stretched out. Betty took a deep breath.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself. “One more day and then you’ll be home again and everything will go back to normal. One more day.”

She pushed away from the bathroom sink and headed back to the bedroom. As she took her place on the bed, Veronica headed for the bathroom. Betty glanced at the TV – a rerun of That 70s Show was on – and turned the volume up a bit.

When Veronica came back, she snuggled under the covers and moved closer to Betty. She rested her head on Betty’s shoulder and let out a deep sigh. “This is what it should be like,” she murmured.

“What what should be like?” Betty asked, glancing down.

“Dating. Relationships.” Veronica’s eyes were closed, her lips moving against Betty’s shoulder. “It should all be this easy. Just... you and me and spa weekends and laughing about stupid stuff and watching TV in bed. This is what I want.”

“Veronica.” Betty had lost her breath. The word came out almost inaudible. “Do you mean that?”

“Huh?” Veronica raised her head. Her eyes sparkled, maybe with tears and maybe with fatigue. She shook her head and smiled. “Sorry. I’m just... I really thought Archie might be the one. And I know that’s stupid, we’re in high school, but... I didn’t expect it to go so badly so fast.”

“Right.” Betty felt her heart restart as a weight fell on her chest. She shifted closer to Veronica and started to rub her back. “But there’s no need to worry. You’re going to live a long, fantastic life, and you’re going to do things that you never imagined you would do. And along the way, you’re going to find the right guy. And he’s going to love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars. And it’s going to be just as easy as this.”

“Or girl,” Veronica said.

“What?”

“You said I’d find the right guy. But it might be a girl.”

“What?”

Veronica pulled a confused face and looked up at Betty again, rested her chin on her shoulder. “Have I not told you this yet? Sorry, it’s just I was out to everyone in New York and I guess I just forgot that I never told anyone here.” She let out a slight laugh. “Bet that really changes your opinion of sleeping in the same bed as me.”

“No. Of course not.”

Veronica pressed a kiss to Betty’s shoulder. “I do love you, Betty. I love you a lot.”

“Veronica...” Betty bit her bottom lip, suddenly afraid now that she met her friend’s eyes. But if there was ever a time to do this, ever a time when Jughead’s advice might actually make sense, it was now. Betty licked her lips, took a breath. She could be brave. She could do this. “What if it could be this easy?”

“Of course it can be. I’ve always wanted to fall in love with my best friend, so—”

“What if your best friend was in love with you?”

“That would be great, but—”

Betty sighed and did the one last thing that she could do to make Veronica understand. She pressed their lips together, very briefly, and pulled back to look at her. And when she did, Betty’s heart fell to her feet.

Veronica, eyes wide, lips parted, looked terrified.

“I’m sorry,” Betty said. She sat frozen for a split second and then started to move, scrambled to get out of the bed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“No! No, Betty.” Veronica grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, hard. “I’m not... shit. I’m just surprised. I thought... you love Archie and—”

“I love you too. More, maybe. I—”

It was Betty’s turn to get cut off with a kiss. Veronica took her face in her hands and held her gaze right up until their lips touched. Betty moved to cup Veronica’s hands, pressed into the kiss with shaky breath and unsure lips. Veronica coaxed her mouth open, slipped in her tongue, deepening it past what had happened at cheer tryouts, past what Betty had ever done before.

Veronica pulled back after a minute and rested their foreheads together. She looked up at Betty through dark lashes. “I am so desperately in love with you, Betty Cooper.” She pecked her on the lips, rubbed her bottom lip with her thumb. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over you.”

“Then don’t.” Betty kissed her again, fervently. She pulled Veronica to her, tangled up their legs under the covers. “You have no idea what it’s been like. Being here with you. Pretending to be a couple.”

“I know exactly what it’s been like.”

Betty laughed. “You haven’t been taking advice from Jughead.”

“Well, maybe I should have been.” Veronica wiped a tear off Betty’s cheek. “He seems to know what he’s talking about.”

“What happens when the weekend’s over?”

“Whatever you want. We tell people or we don’t tell people, but no matter what, we don’t forget how easy this is. How right it is.” Veronica gathered Betty’s hands in her own and kissed them. “I love you and I want you to be happy and I will do whatever makes you comfortable for as long as you want.”

“We can tell people. Maybe not my mom but... everyone else.” Betty smiled and felt a tear drip into her mouth. “God, I just really want everyone to know how happy I am and how much I love you.”

“Me too.” Veronica kissed her again, soft and sure.

Slowly, they sunk down into the bed, sharing kisses and letting their hands wander. They fell asleep with their hands in each others’ hair and their lips half an inch apart.

#beronica #betty x veronica #riverdale #betty cooper #veronica lodge #mine

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generator-x · 7 years ago

Text

Damn it Crowley

I walked the halls of the bunker waiting for Sam and Dean to come back from their last hunt. I had heard a noise coming from the library. I went and checked it out but nothing was there but a gigantic mess. I looked around, sighed and started putting things back where they belonged. I was about to walk out when something rammed into my leg. I looked down but there was nothing there. I raised my eyebrows and kept walking out the door and something rammed the back of my leg making it buckle and me fall. I squealed falling but got caught halfway down. I looked up and there was Crowley. "You okay, love?" He asked pulling me up to my feet. "Yeah just seems like an invisible force doesn't want me on my feet." I said looking up at him. "Does it feel like a little ram?" He asked running a hand over his face. "Actually yeah....What'd you do Crowley?" I asked putting my hands on my hips. "Juliet had puppies and that bloody Rudey is the father." He said. I bit my lip and giggled. I had met Rudey and Juliet before, both were extremely sweet but Rudey was a complete mess waiting to happen. "So let me guess, this hell pup takes after daddy?" I asked smiling a little. "Luckily this is the only one." He said looking around. "There wasn't a giant mess was there?" He asked. "In the library, yeah." I said pointing behind me. The door opened and Sam and Dean walked in. "Crowley?!" Dean asked angrily. "Not here for trouble mate, just looking for a pup." He said putting his hands up in defense. "(y/n)?" Sam asked looking over at me. "Its true there's a hell pup somewhere and guess whose his father." I said. Sam and Dean looked at each other and shrugged. "Rudey." I said smirking. Deans eyes went wide and he jumped in Sam's arms. He started looking around and I couldn't stop laughing. "Whats so terrifying about Rudey?" I asked smiling a bit. "He tried to tear me a new one that’s whats wrong with him." Dean said slowly getting down. I heard a tiny bark from my room and I dashed in there. "Crowley, hell sight, now." I said and he snapped his fingers. I saw a little ball of fur on my bed sniffing at my teddy bear. "Hey, no!" I yelled walking over and picking him up. He looked at me and barked happily wagging his tail. I giggled and walk back into the library. "Oh there you are, little bastard." Crowley said scolding him. He cuddled closer to me and I smiled. "Dean can we keep him?" I asked giving him the puppy look. "Absolutely not!" Dean said glaring at the puppy who just had his cute little puppy look on and whimpered. "Crowley can I keep him, please?" I asked pouting my lip out. "I wish, love. But Juliet would rip my throat out if I gave her pup away right now." He said rubbing his hand over his face again. "Awe man." I said looking down at the puppy. "But I'm sure Juliet would love to see you found her puppy safe and sound." He said winking. "I'm going to Hell!" I exclaimed hugging the pup closer. He yipped and his tail started wagging rapidly. "(y/n) no." Dean said. "To bad." I said linking my arm with Crowley's. He snapped his fingers and we were in Hell at Juliet's side. "Hello there, look who I found making a mess." I said putting the pup beside her. She looked up at me happily and barked. "Ya know (y/n) I'm glad I could get you away from those bloody idiots." Crowley said walking up to me from behind as I played with the rest of the pups. "Oh why is that?" I asked not looking up. "Because then I get to do this without them bothering us." He said turning me around. I looked at him and he kissed me. My eyes widened and I froze. ~Crowley, the King Of Hell is KISSING me. What do I do?~ I asked myself. He pulled me tighter to him and I started to kiss him back. He pushed me up against the wall and I had to wrap my legs around his waist to stay up, but that just meant it was easier to grind him. He growled as I pushed up against on him, feeling how hard he was. "Don't tease." He growled pulling my shirt off and ripping my bra off after it. "I don't have to listen to you." I said kissing him again pushing his suit jacket off. I grinned and lowered myself, nipping at Crowley's lip. "Bed, now." I said staring him down. He grinned and snapped his fingers. We were in his bed, our clothes folded and off to the side. "Impatient, are we?" I asked grinding against him. He moaned slapping my ass and kneading it. "Can you blame me?" He asked sitting up to kiss me. I hummed and kissed back, slowly starting to grind against him again. "Love, please don't tease." He said raising his hips in time with mine so there was more friction. I hummed again and raised my hips away from him. He groaned his hands finding my waist and lowering me back onto him and thrusting up at the same time. I moaned rolling my hips against his and my head lolled back. "Crowley, need you in me." I moaned lowering my hand to play with my clit. Crowley groaned and rolled over so he was above me. "Now none of that, or we'll both lose our shit." He said stroking my wet core with his throbbing cock. I gasped and bucked my hips, trying to get him closer to me, or in me. "Crowley, now damn it." I growled grinding against him. He moaned and lined up to me then thrust in. "Oh, sweet hell, love you're so bloody tight." He said through gritted teeth, trying to restrain himself. I whimpered and rolled my hips. "Now now, naughty girls don’t get rewarded." He said nipping my lips. "But they do get punished." I replied, rolling my hips again drawing a moan out of us both. "Damn naughty girls." He said smirking and raising my hips up more. He gave a shallow thrust and ran his fingers up my spine. "(y/n), I'm gonna turn you around, alright?" He asked pulling himself away a tiny bit and picked me up, turning me around on my hands and knees. I moaned dropping down on my elbows and wiggling my hips. Crowley groaned and grabbed a handful of my ass, causing me to cry out in surprise. "You're a dirty little kitten, aren't you, love?" He asked slapping my cheek then rubbing it. "Crowley, please move." I whimpered leaning my head down to rest against my arm. He pulled almost all the way out then thrust back in. "Oh, shit. Those extra inches do wonders." I said biting my lip. "This has been on my mind since I first saw you with those bloody oafs." He said leaning down to kiss my neck. "Then why didn't you do it sooner than this?" I asked moving my hips to meet his thrusts. "I didn't know if you wanted it too." He said sliding his hands down to massage my breasts. "Ugh, Crowley, harder, please." I whimpered out. He pulled all the way back out then thrust in savagely. "You're so bloody tight." He growled biting my neck and flipping us over. I turned around, grinding against him in the process. "Crowley, I'm close." I whined bouncing myself as he laid his hands on my hips. "I am too, cum with me love." He said thrusting his hips up hard. He slid his hand under us and rubbed my clit. "C-Crowleeeeey." I moaned thrusting my hips against his. "Cum." He said. I bit my lip as I tightened around him, pulling him into his own orgasm. "Fuck." He said pulling me down to his lips. "That was amazing." I said kissing him. "Yeah, I suppose I better get you back to moose and squirrel." He said pulling himself out. "Yeah, I suppose. They're probably running around like chickens with their heads cut off." I said giggling a bit. "Or you could stay here." He said snapping so we were both cleaned and dressed. "W-what?" I asked looking up at him. "Stay here, be my queen." He said pulling me into him. "But hunting and the guys, they'd be losing it without me." I said. "You can still hunt with them, but I'll be protecting you and making sure they don't get you killed." He said leaning down to kiss me. I kissed him back as he pulled me closer by my waist. "Okay, but I need to go tell them." I said pulling away. "Anything, just as long as you stay." He said resting his forehead against mine. "I'm staying." I said as he snapped his fingers. "(y/n)!" Dean shouted making his way over to us. "Hey, so um, I'm moving into hell. I'll still be hunting with you guys, I'll just have a guardian demon watching me." I said. "You, you had better make sure she is happy and I swear if she comes to us one time about you making her upset I will hunt you down and I will kill you." Dean said pointing at Crowley. "You serious?" I asked when he didn't disagree with the idea. "Yeah, I know you, and I know that you will do whatever you want anyways." He said pulling me into a hug. "I agree with Dean, and Crowley I will be helping him." Sam said joining the hug. "You guys are the best." I said pulling away. Crowley took my hand and snapped, taking us to the throne room, where there was a matching queen's throne beside the kings.

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