#what do we say to the god of death? Lives flashing before your eyes?

[pizzee]

y’all the way all the animals’ names in the SCU are just… the animal they are. Donkey, dragon, cat (puss), cat (kitty), dog (perrito), wolf (lobo), bears (with adjectives)

[knoxic]

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x reader | Lucien Vanserra x reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5

Summary: Reader and Lucien arrive at Day Court and go drinking. Azriel goes through some rough shit and gives Rhys and Cassian a new trauma.

wc: 6k

warnings: Alcohol, almost death experience, mentions of sex (?)

a/n: I wrote the Lucien scenes while drunk and sleepy, the next day when I went back to write I didn't remember half of it. It was a good surprise, I caught myself blushing at my own work.

After arriving at Day Court, Lucien took you to the inn where you'd be staying. Helion no doubt had a room ready for both of you, but Lucien didn't want to risk being stuck in his father's palace, not again. You understood his reasons, of course, the damage Beron had done to him was one Lucien would have to carry for the rest of his life.

The inn was cozy and entirely Day coded, embellished in white and gold. Your room was more of a flat, with a couple of bedrooms, a bathroom decorated with stained glass that reflected colorful lights, the kitchen was filled with white furniture, high arched windows allowed rays of sunlight to dance inside the living room, you could swear Lucien's skin seemed to glow with them.

Watching him in what was supposed to be one of his natural habitats was something special. Lucien had to learn how to fit into places that weren't ready to receive him in his true form, so he adapted. Although he still maintained some of his origins, the Autumn part of himself had mixed with Spring over the years, he kept some of the colors and habits, Day Court was only in his blood, hidden from everything and everyone, even himself for some time. While your wardrobe only contained Night Court clothes, Lucien had perfected his to fit into any court he had to visit.

Now adorned in white and gold, Lucien was breathtaking, striking male beauty only Helion radiated.

"When we get back, you should ask Feyre for a painting, it'll last longer." He didn't even lift his head to look at you. Your cheeks warmed, he caught you staring him up and down, but surely there was nothing wrong in admiring a friend right? Especially if said friend was Lucien, who deserved to be looked at with nothing but admiration and pride.

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes at him with no true irritation. Lucien barked out a laugh, throwing his head back, a smile curled on your lips at the sight.

"There's nothing wrong with looking," he turned his upper body back to face you, flashing you a smirk. "I even dare say I liked it."

"Gods, you're so full of yourself aren't you?!" you groaned, more at yourself for eyeing him like that. After over a century of pining over Azriel, admiring him, wanting only him, looking at another male felt weird.

You went back to your room, dropping on the bed and rethinking your decision to come. You didn't regret accompanying Lucien, but this close proximity suddenly felt strange, you shared an apartment with him for God's sake, why did you feel this way?

Being with Lucien never felt wrong before, but now it did. Because you were starting to see him as a male, not a friendly male, an insanely attractive male. When your body heated and a knot formed on your lower belly, you thought of Azriel. Not Lucien. Now you weren't sure who you'd think of when your hand drifted down your body, who you'd imagine between your legs when your eyes slipped close from pleasure.

Azriel had never left you unsatisfied, it always felt good to be with him, he knew what to do and you wouldn't deny that, and it was natural that you'd only find pleasure with him or yourself. But if he could want another female when he was still with you, then you wouldn't feel bad about wanting another male while being single.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" Lucien asked quietly, you hadn't even heard the door opening. You lifted your head to peer at him, he kept his head down while leaning against the doorway. "It wasn't my intention."

"You didn't," your head dropped back, "I'm just thinking." It was true, but he just didn't need to know what you were thinking. Lucien hummed and you heard his steps coming closer, you had closed your eyes for a moment when his weight dropped on the bed, instead of laying on the space beside you, he opted for laying horizontally above you, being careful to not lay on your hair but still close enough.

"Of him?" You would've laughed at the situation if you weren't so mortified. You wondered if Lucien thought the same, if he felt attracted to other females after Elain.

"Can I ask you something?" As embarrassed as you were, knowing that he felt the same would make you feel better, and if he didn't, then you'd just pretend you never felt anything.

"I didn't know we had to ask for permission, Ace,"  he tried teasing but his voice was as tense as yours. "Of course you can." You took a moment to find the courage you needed.

"Do you– ugh," it was harder than you expected, Lucien wouldn't judge you but he'd definitely tease you for being horny, and maybe that wasn't exactly what you needed.

"Just ask it." You turned your head up slightly, he already looked down at you, seeing him look so vulnerable and open eased your worries. Lucien was your equal, no matter what, he'd stand by you and some silly lustful thoughts wouldn't push him away. Not after everything you went through together.

"Do you feel... Like, do you want–or think of other... females?" heat rose to your cheeks and ears, you averted your eyes from his but kept your head turned to the side, so you could see if he tried to hide a laugh.

"Yes." Your head snapped up, his face was as serious as you ever saw him, like it didn't bother him at all to admit it.

"Yes?!" You didn't mean to sound so shocked, you were just surprised by his lack of concern. If it didn't mean that big of a deal for him, who had a mate, then it wouldn't be for you either. "Like in a–"

"Sexual way? Yes, I think of another female." His eyes drifted away before he turned to look up, "It's easy not to think of Elain. She's my mate, and yet... I don't even feel attracted to her anymore." His mouth opened and closed, a sigh escaping him before he looked at you, his eyes pleading for something you couldn't place, "Would you think badly of me if I said she meant nothing?" You wouldn't, couldn't ever think badly of him. Elain never gave him a chance, he was completely allowed to do and think whatever he wanted now. At least he had tried.

"No," your hands twitched with the need to touch him, comfort him, "I understand." The relief in his eyes was clear, he needed reassurance.

Only a beat of a moment passed before you could stand being so far. Slowly you pushed yourself up, wiggling your head against his arm hoping he would understand what you wanted, fortunately he did, with an amused scoff Lucien lifted his arm, allowing you to push yourself higher and drop your head into his stomach. His arm dropped beside your body, his fingers brushed your own arm a couple times before he deemed it okay to rest his hand on it.

"Can I ask you something?" Hearing the same phrase you spoke to him before now really sounded weird.

"Since when do we ask for permission?" Lucien laughed, his stomach moved and your head bounced, you lifted yourself to glare at him for it and it only made him laugh harder. Before you knew it, a hot hand placed on your forehead pulled you back down, his arm dropping to your chest to hold you back from lifting again.

"Why did you ask me that?" His voice was gentle and warm, your cheeks burned at how fast your body filled with goosebumps, "Do you feel attracted to other males?" At your lack of response, his thumb caressed your cheek carefully. "It's okay if you do, it doesn't have to mean anything."

It doesn't have to mean anything.

There's something about Lucien that just soothes you, as weird as it feels to say it, his mainly nature allows you to be yourself, no hard shells. You didn't have to fight off males at bars because Lucien was there to do it for you. You didn't have to be the male. He radiated warmth and comfort.

"Come," he didn't give you a chance to respond to his latter question, the hand that wasn't on your chest gently lifted your head, "Let's go get drunk." For a brief moment his eyes settled on your body, before you could feel embarrassed under his gaze, Lucien spoke with a certain annoyance, "But it won't do with those clothes, honey."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "What's wrong with my clothes?" Even though your attire was rather simple, there wasn't anything particularly wrong or ugly about it.

"Funny, you never told me you had eye problems." The mocking smile on his face made you groan.

"Because I don't!" You yelled, sitting up so fast that your head spinned. Lucien blinked slowly, waiting for you to realize what was wrong, he only spoke when he noticed how lost you were.

"We're in Day Court, they're gonna kick us out of the bar if I take you out looking like this!" his hand gestured towards your dark clothes, "You're the perfect picture of a Night Court resident." Lucien stood up, snatching your hand and pulling you to your feet, you almost fell when he continued pulling you out of the room, towards the front door.

𓂃

When Azriel woke up for the second time, his chest hurt. A pressure he never felt before making it hard to breathe, his lungs burning as if he was drowning, the satin sheets scratched his sensitive skin. After he managed to fully open his eyes and look down at himself, he noticed red bumps on his arms and chest. When he tried to move, his whole body ached like he'd just fought the worst battle of his life. And the worst part was, he couldn't feel his wings.

In his half assed inspection, he noticed the dirty blonde hair sprawled across his sheets and he knew then that his shadows wouldn't help him. He tried to call for Elain, or anyone really, but he just ended up having a bad coughing fit. As he usually did when he couldn't or didn't want to speak, he called for Rhysand, hoping his brother would hear his desperate plea and help him.

'What's wrong?' his voice sounded annoyed but if Azrie wasn't so concerned, he'd notice how worried Rhysand actually sounded. 'Az? Answer me!'

When he woke for the third time, the room he was in wasn't his own, he recognized after a brief glance around that it was the infirmary.

"You're awake! Thank the mother..." The last part was uttered under his breath, Rhysand shot up to his feet, ruffling Azriel's hair with one hand and lightly patting his arm with the other. "I thought we'd lost you, brother."

Loud footsteps echoed through the hallway moments later, the door busted open and suddenly he was being pulled up, strong arms holding his body tightly.

"Idiot," sniffles and sobs muffled against his neck, "you scared me!" Cassian pulled back to look at him, wide and red eyes roaming over his face and body, taking in his features and wellbeing.

"What happened?" Azriel pulled back only to be taken by a different pair of arms, Rhysand nuzzled his head against his own, a shaky breath tickling his still sensitive skin.

"Madja said you had an allergic reaction, something you ate or drank or something overdosed..." Cassian spoke slowly, like the words felt weird on his tongue, "Azriel–" his breath got stuck in his throat, a choking sound filled the quiet room. Rhysand pulled back from the hug, violet eyes drifted between his two brothers, settling a while longer on Cassian. Azriel watched their silent interaction curiously.

"Az..." Rhysand called his attention, waiting for him to nod before continuing, "Your heart stopped beating."

𓂃

Shopping with Lucien was exactly how you expected. Trying on a bunch of different clothes only for him to roll his eyes and shake his head no, gesturing with a hand for you to get back inside the dressing room and try the next. You would've gotten annoyed at him if he didn't make up for his attitude.

"That's... By the Mother, Ace." He chuckled nervously, "Don't get me wrong! I mean—you're beautiful in any way, but in that... A Goddess would be outshined in your presence." You could swear the room had just turned a bit warmer and brighter at his words.

"Stop it–" you brushed him off.

"No, I mean it." That being the last dress you had to try on, Lucien got up from his seat, taking the basket with the clothes he'd approved and made his way towards you. His hand took yours gently, pulling you closer to himself, you were too busy trying to avert his gaze to notice the way he looked at you, the way he admired you. Trying to get your attention Lucien squeezed your hand, making you look up, for a moment you both just stared at each other, then he lifted your hand and made you turn slowly.

"Yeah, we're definitely taking this one." Lucien didn't give you time to be embarrassed, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to the shoes section.

𓂃

"What?" His question was whispered under his breath, his sore throat made his voice rougher than it usually was.

"For a few minutes we–" Rhysand exhaled another shaky breath, "we lost you. You died." He waited for Azriel to show any reaction before caressing his mind with careful talons. Azriel allowed him with no more than just a blink.

"Az? Azriel!" Rhysand tried to shake him awake, feeling his brother's frigid skin made him recoil. "No..."

"Rhys? What's– Oh Gods, no, no, no!" Cassian pushed the High Lord aside, gathering Azriel in his arms and walking out in hurried steps. Being careful not to bang his wings, long legs or head against the door and walls.

He knew he hadn't checked Azriel's pulse or breathing, and refused to look down at his bare chest to know for sure, but he only had one thing in his mind at the moment, finding help. He would do anything to make sure his brother would live, but he knew he couldn't help him in this situation, and he also knew how Rhysand felt on death threatening occasions, so he went to the only other place that could give Azriel the type of help he needed.

Madja was always ready for anything, there was never a day or night where she wasn't able to help. Whatever it was, she always had the solution for it.

Until now.

"I am so sorry, High Lord!" she seemed as desperate as they were, "It seems his body is fighting something, he has symptoms of an allergy reaction, his organism reacted badly to something and is now trying to reject it. But I can't tell what and if I can't tell... then there's nothing I can do..." her eyes were filled with moisture, she couldn't meet anyone's gaze and wouldn't tear hers away from Azriel.

"We can't just sit here..." Cassian pondered, something came to his head and he glanced at Rhysand, noticing how he seemed to be on the verge of panic he stepped closer, "Brother, look at me! He's not going to die, you hear me?! Azriel's not going to die!" Cassian shook him, calling to him in his mind, showing him what he was thinking.

𓂃

Four drinks in and you couldn't take it anymore, it'd been so long since you've gotten drunk that you weren't sure if you knew how to handle alcohol, Lucien didn't seem like he'd stop any time soon. Now you realized how spoiled Rhysand had gotten you, unintentionally or not. You were used to his wine and the drinks at Rita's, which paled in comparison to what they had in Day. A little part of you that hadn't come out in so long, slowly slipped to the surface, new ideas about trying the rest of the unusual drinks or roaming the city trying a drink from each bar you could find filled your head.

"Didn't you like it? We can try another." Lucien tapped your arm with his fingers, bringing your attention to him.

"No, this one's fine," you took a sip of the coloured drink trying to make a point, grimacing as you did.

Lucien grinned, "Yeah? Then I'll get another–"

"No!" Your hand shot up to hold his arm when he moved to stand, his face told you you'd have to give him a good excuse if you wanted him to sit back down. You groaned and let go of him, your fingers lightly pushed the drink away. "It's not bad–Really! it isn't! It's just... I'm not used to drinks this strong." You muttered the last part, hoping he wouldn't catch.

"Sorry, what was that?" He leaned close, one of his hands cupping his ear. You rolled your eyes.

"I said, I'm not used to drinks this strong." Lucien cooed at you.

"Aw, baby! You could've told me!" the hand that cupped his ear fell to your back, gently patting and rubbing you, you waited for the moment he'd mock you, "I would've asked for a warm cup of milk–"

A loud smack echoed. Just in time for your hand to make contact with his arm, the talking and music quieted. A few faes turned to glance at you both, raised eyebrows and hushed whispers, your cheeks heated up at the embarrassment consuming you. Lucien threw his head back and barked out a laugh that had your head falling against the table with a tud, you wanted to cave a hole right there and bury yourself in it, only coming out centuries later when everyone had forgotten it, including yourself.

𓂃

"Thank you." Rhysand breathed out, after seeing some color return to Azriel's face he felt like he could properly breathe again, "Really, I'll be in debt with you for the rest of my life." Those were dangerous words for a High Lord like him, and still he pronounced them clearly, it was a promise.

"No need. You're my friend and I'm glad to help." Helion patted his arm and left after a brief nod in Cassian's direction, wanting to give them the privacy to be vulnerable. Cassian immediately took it, crossing the room and pulling Rhysand into a tight hug.

"He's okay, he's okay." He repeated. Rhys hummed against his neck in response.

Now that the worst part was over, that he was sure Azriel would live, the brutality of the situation hit him. Azriel almost died and Elain was behind it. He wondered if she knew what she did, if that was her intention from the beginning or if it was an accident. He wondered why. Even though he hated the idea, he thought she loved him, thought they loved each other, enough so that Azriel defied him. But this... this wasn't love. Her reasons to do it didn't matter.

Rhysand hated himself for failing his brother, but he hated her more. He wanted to go back to the House of Wind and make Elain pay, perhaps giving her the drug she had given Azriel and see what happened, a strong Illyrian male survived, with the right help, he wondered how a simple high fae would take it, alone.

While embraced in strong loving arms, Rhysand fantasized about the female who almost killed his brother, who threatened his family. Wild fantasies of her in extreme pain, deadly worry, agonizing her last breath filled his mind. He wondered if Azriel would want a turn with her, if he'd want to make her pay for almost ending his life, for taking away his choice, for destroying the life he'd built with you.

Ace. He had to tell you, even if you ended up ignoring him, even if it didn't change anything for you, you should know. But he had something to do first.

𓂃

Coming back to the inn felt like a dream. With merry eyes that place was heavenly. You didn't remember getting ready for bed but the oversized shirt you wore and lack of makeup on your face showed you had. After doing your morning routine, you left your room. You assumed Lucien was still asleep given that there weren't any sounds coming from the hallway, so with quiet steps you made your way to the kitchen, only to find the table already set.

You were too busy munching on a piece of bread to notice the presence behind you. Two fingers jabbing into your ribs and a weirdly attractive 'morning' uttered by your ear made you jump, the squeak the chair let out mixed with your yelp. When your heartbeat stopped deafening your ears, you heard Lucien howling.

"The bread!" He wheezed. You watched him with narrowed eyes but after understanding what he had said, you started searching for it. "Cei–" he tried to say something only to start laughing again.

"What?" You frantically searched for the bread and still there was no trace of it, glancing back at Lucien you noticed his finger pointing up. The piece of bread had stuck to the ceiling above your head, the splashes of jam started falling as you looked up. A weird wet sound and the smack of bread on the table had Lucien barking out laughter.

Someone knocking interrupted your silly moment, Lucien wiped the tears in his eyes and walked to the front door. The silence that followed was awkward, there was no sound after the door opened, no greetings. A few seconds later you got curious and decided to go see who it was, as you walked closer Lucien asked what was wrong, you would've waited fro the other person to speak if you hadn't caught a glimpse of black. As you fully turned the corner, violet eyes drifted to you.

There was something in him that just felt unsettling. Rhysand seemed disturbed, and you hoped it had nothing to do with you.

"I need to talk to you." His voice was quiet, worrying you even more. You nodded and Lucien invited him in, closing the door behind him.

"I'll be in my room if you need me." He walked away after a brief look at you.

You took Rhysand to the living room, pointing for him to sit before taking the other side of the couch. The High Lord leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his fingers fidgeting.

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm going to show you," he hesitantly turned to face you, "if you allow me."

"Okay." Even if it had something to do with you, it was bad enough to make Rhysand nervous, and that wasn't good.

Images of the last three days filled your mind. Azriel's pale body limp and Cassian gathering him would haunt you forever. Seeing Rhysand's inner turmoil, Cassian fighting to stay composed for his brothers sake, the Archeron sisters yelling at each other, Mor and even Amren looking troubled, it was all too much for you. Minutes after the memories ended you still hadn't pronounced a word, there was not a single indication of what you were thinking or feeling.

"Helion helped heal him, Madja wasn't able to so we brought him here. We would've taken him to Dawn but given that it was a potion, we couldn't risk losing time only to be met with no solution, and since there's not a spell Helion doesn't know, it was a wise decision." With a glance in his direction, you noticed how he nodded absentmindedly, his voice quiet as if he was talking more to himself. "It was Cassian."

The thought of Cassian poisoning Azriel sounded horrifying and the most unrealistic thing ever, "What?!" It was a loud whisper, you would've yelled if your voice hadn't failed you, almost muted from shock.

"No! Gods, no! I'm sorry I made it sound like that, I meant that it was Cassian's idea to bring him here. He took over when I couldn't think straight..."

"Thank the Mother," you breathed out, relief overtaking you for a moment before another thought came to mind, "but, who was it?" you hesitated for a moment, Azriel couldn't have poisoned himself accidentally, and the thought of someone close to him doing that, was terrifying. If someone had the guts to harm The Spymaster of the Night Court, they were either out of their mind, or the most threatening person to enter that court in centuries.

"Elain." Your stomach dropped, that uncomfortable sensation of shock filled you, Elain!?

Out of everything your mind could have come up with, Elain harming Azriel wouldn't be one of them. Up until a few seconds ago you still thought they loved each other, thought she wanted him badly enough to push her mate aside, thought he wanted her badly enough to throw you away and go against his brother to be with her. She had him, how could she harm him like that? Why?

"When Azriel was stable, I went to interrogate her, to know exactly what her intention was." He started when he noticed you were lost in thought. "It was a love potion. She had been cultivating passionflower for months now, its tea is used to treat insomnia, anxiety and pain. but apparently it's also used on love potions. So every time she pretended to help him ease his anxiety and sleep better, she was also drugging him into being in love with her." You uttered some curse words under your breath, Rhysand nodded in agreement before continuing. "She was using the flower petals and concentrated syrup on the cakes and pastries she gave him, saying it was a new recipe or just a form of payment for his help. According to her, three nights ago Azriel started acting differently, she could see the way his behavior drifted from being obsessed and lustful to disgust and indifference, so she thought it'd be a good idea to triple the tea's dose. The thing is, Az already had a decent amount of it in his system, he just wasn't reacting to it, and after the triple dose... It made him relax and sleep as intended, but when he drifted off, his heartbeat slowed way more than normal and it only got worse. The soreness he was feeling from the past few days turned into extreme pain, the beating Cassian and I gave him, his wing... It all made him too sensitive, the bruises turned red and angry like closed wounds or rashes. He managed to wake up somehow," Rhysand gave a humorless laugh, "and he called me... when I found him..." he drifted off, for sure reliving the moment behind his closed eyelids.

"Rhys..." you tried to find what to say, but nothing came up, you couldn't think straight. Your lower lip trembled, your eye stinging with tears that you couldn't keep from falling. A hand rested over your shaky one, his body shifting closer to you, his other hand bringing you to lean on his chest, planting a kiss to the side of your head before resting his against you and letting his own tears fall.

"I know it's a lot to take in... it was for me too." He breathed shakily in and out. "I took care of her, Az is safe, no one will hurt him again. It's okay." He kept uttering words to comfort you both.

You didn't know what to think. Azriel hadn't chosen her, he didn't love her, didn't push you aside because he stopped loving or wanting you. It made sense now why he seemed so intrigued when you mentioned breaking up, why his change was so sudden, why you didn't recognize him. The Azriel you broke up with wasn't the same Azriel you had fallen in love with, and at the same time that it relieved a horrible weight off of your chest, it also laid another. Because even if it wasn't your fault, you hated yourself for not seeing it earlier, for leaving him and giving her the chance to have him, and more so for even for a brief moment, wanting Lucien.

"You couldn't have known." You immediately closed off your mind and pushed away from his chest, refusing to meet Rhysand's eyes. "I'm not judging you, I wouldn't ever do that. I hate myself too for not seeing it, I knew he was different but I was just so pissed that I didn't even consider... I'm sure that the Azriel we know wouldn't judge you either. And, can I tell you something?" His hands were still holding yours and rubbing your back.

"Yeah." You still refused to look at him, your cheeks tinged with shame, Rhysand lifted your chin, his face showed no signs of bad emotions anymore, and if you dared guess, it showed hope.

"First I want you to know I'm not prompting you to do anything, I just want you to acknowledge the truth, you don't have to do anything with it if you don't want to. Again, I'm not going to judge you." He waited until you understood and nodded before speaking. "Azriel never loved Elain. His heart belongs to you... his soul belongs to you."

You tilted your head in question, wondering why he looked at you so intrigued. Of course, hearing that Azriel never loved another from someone else's mouth comforted you, showed that you weren't so wrong in assuming.

"Sweetheart–" he opened his mouth to continue but closed quickly after, thinking for a moment before meeting your eyes with a newfound determination, "Elain only resorted to that because she knew she was losing time, she couldn't make him fall for her naturally, and she knew she wouldn't have the chance to do it if Azriel found out." Rhysand shook his head when he noticed you didn't have a clue of what he was saying, his talons caressed you mind wanting to show you. It was a moment you didn't remember, and wouldn't ever because it didn't and wouldn't happen.

Both you and Azriel babysitting Nyx, who was snuggled in your arms, giggling from your fingers tickling his sides. Azriel watched the scene with adoring eyes, his shadows danced at the sound of your laughter, floating around you. The baby's back was turned to him, and the sight of his wings and black hair gave Azriel an image of what could be his future. His baby, giggling and snuggling with you, their eyes a copy of yours, nose the perfect mixture of you both, pointy ears half hidden behind black hair. Your eyes met his from behind his nephew's head, the light in them and your face glowing with happiness told him you were thinking the same. The love he cultivated behind his ribs bloomed, he could swear his heart pulsed so hard you could see it moving even hidden behind his shirt.

He watched you gently place Nyx down, making sure he entertained himself with some toys before making your way towards him. Azriel met you halfway, as always, locking his arms behind you and pulling you into his chest, your bodies fit perfectly.

"Can you imagine it?" You spoke softly.

"Yeah, I can." You could basically hear his smile.

Azriel pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to your head to make you look at him. Your eyes met hazel ones, the molten gold in his eyes, mingled with green and brown, glowed. The swirls they made resembled his shadows, you could spend hours staring into his irises and still they would fascinate you. Azriel blinked, when your eyes met this time, there was gold in yours too, a small thread growing brighter and brighter, his heart ached, a pull constricted his breath and he hissed, when your brows furrowed and your eyes watered, he knew you felt the same.

The thread became bigger and you finally felt your souls connected, Azriel's happiness was overwhelming, the tears fell. His forehead rested on yours, he sniffled and chuckled a moment later, shaking his head in astonishment.

"It's you..." he smiled, pulling back and caressing your face, "I always knew it was you." He whipped your tears while his own fell freely down his cheeks, your hands cupped his face, bringing him down for a kiss.

The memory ended and your heart broke. Seeing Azriel so close like that again, and so full of love, that was the male you knew and loved, knowing that perhaps you'd never get to experience that moment with him, absolutely wrecked you. Your throat tightened trying to hold back your sobs, fat tears rolled down your face, wetting your and Rhysand's shirt. 

Azriel was your mate. It was you he was tied to. Not Elain, not Mor. You.

Your mind provided you with a thousand possibilities of how your life could have been, if only Elain hadn't interfered. Your heart ached for him, for you, for the family you could've built. You still wanted him, it was too soon for you to have stopped wanting, but it was also too early to tell what was the right thing to do. Perhaps such a thing didn't exist, you both have always walked a thin line between right and wrong.

What confused you most was also longing for Lucien. Right when you decided that it wasn't wrong to want him, this happened. How could you feel so much want, and for different people? 

So you cried. For everything and everyone. For all the possible futures you could've had, and for the ones you still could have. For hatred, for love, for the blankness inside you. For not knowing if what you felt for Lucien was only lust. For still loving Azriel, enough that whatever happened with Elain didn't matter anymore, it wasn't his fault anyway. And most importantly, you cried for yourself. For the pain inflicted upon you, for the rough path you always had to walk, for the weight of the world that you carried on your shoulders everyday.

Rhysand didn't move, his arms never strayed from your trembling body. He never tried to stop your tears, he knew you had to get the pain out someway. He whispered gentle words right by your ear, everything he knew would help ease your worries and pain.

The tears stopped after a few minutes, Rhys didn't let go immediately, letting you make the first move and pull away first. After that you spent a little while thinking through your options, taking a moment to decide what you wanted. 

“Do you think–” you glanced at him to see his expression, “do you think he'll want to see me?” 

“What?!” Rhysand scoffed, “Sweetheart, of course he'll want to see you.” 

This trip was supposed to be relaxing, a time for you to not think of everything that happened. Lucien has asked you to come with him, to be there for him. You knew that he'd be okay with you going to see Azriel, because that's just the way he was, he would put himself aside to make sure his friends were happy, nevermind that his own happiness was just as important.

If someone deserves happiness, a happy ending, it's him. Lucien overworked so he wouldn't notice how alone he was, he used to avoid going home before you went to live with him. You both had become so much closer in the past few days, taking care of each other, having more fun than you've had in years. 

You weighed your options, you could stay with him and continue with your original plans, you could go see Azriel out of respect for the time you spent together and worry for the male you loved, you could just send a letter, and you could go back to him, because none of what happened was his fault.

“I need some time to think.”

Taglist: @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @meritxellao @cleverzonkwombatsludge @paintedbyshadows @mp-littlebit @rcarbo1 @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @littlepippilongstocking @lorosette @minnieoo @hailqueenconquer @azriels-shadowsinger @blessthepizzaman @chelsiemp @saltedcoffeescotch @thestartitaness @historygeekqueen @sillyfreakfanparty @entr4p3 @warmdragonfly @clementine111002 @azriel-shadowsingerr @amiime @anuttellaa @loulou0101 @acourtofbatboydreams @xmalfoyweasleyx @anna-reader-blog @melmo567 @buttermilktea11 @helo1281917 @thelov3lybookworm @cazrielsfairygf @hanatsuki-hime @st4r-girl-official @feiwelinchen @fhgsvbnh

[asumi2020202]

You and I.. We were Born to Die

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Princess Y/n, The Foreseer and Princess Rhaenys, The Queen who never was, were chosen to fly to Rook's Rest.

A/n: It's just a different ending than the one they actually presented in the show. I just wanted to write something for Aemond. Anyways, Thank you for reading!

Note:

Reader is Rhaenys' granddaughter.

Reader's dragon is Moonfyre The Nightdream. She was one of the last eggs of Balerion and Dreamfyre. She is only 9 years old during the Dance of the Dragons.

Reader can Foresee glimpses of the future.

__________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ_______________

Cole and his army were marching towards Rook's Rest. The council was in distress in the absence of the Queen.

The lords argued with themselves and the Heir to the Throne. Pointing out their views on the matter. Y/n stood beside her brother and Princess Rhaenys.

The council's bickering halted as the Queen suddenly walked in.

Jacaerys, your brother, looked very dissatisfied with your mother, the Queen. They argued as to who would go to Rook's Rest.

Your mother volunteered herself which made Jace rage up.

"Send me" Jacaerys said with confidence.

"No" Rhaenyra replied with a sarcastic laugh.

"I will go to Rook's Rest and wipe Cole's line and return-"

"You lack the experience." Rhaenyra stopped Jace's argument.

"You must send me. Meleys is the second largest dragon you have." Rhaenys intervened, to which Rhaenyra felt speechless.

Rhaenys gave Corlys a smile before leaving the room. A vision flashed before your eyes as your body stilled.

Meleys getting killed.

Rhaenys falling to her death.

There were..... two dragons.

One was Sunfyre you thought you saw... But you couldn't recognise the other.

Your mother's calling snapped you out of your vision. You looked panicked. Your mother and brother sensed something wrong.

"Y/n-" Jace reached for you before you said

"Send me as well"

"That cannot be done sweet girl." Rhaenyra said.

"It must be! Rhaenys- .... I saw her. And Meleys! They were ambushed. There were two dragons! Aegon will come! She cannot go alone! She Will Die!"

Rhaenyra looked shocked at your outburst. She pondered for a while before agreeing.

Moonfyre and Meleys were the largest dragons of the blacks. Rhaenyra trusted her daughter's judgement.

_________________________________________

As you walked to the Dragon Pit, you saw no one. No one dared to come closer to your child. They feared their lives.

Rhaenys had left early. You left an hour after she had left. You doubted if you could catch upto her. Meleys was the fastest dragon.

Moonfyre let out a groan as she flew through the clouds to Rook's Rest.

Your memories flashed before you. The first time you rode a dragon was with your father. It was Seasmoke.

"Kepa! Soo high! Hehe" little y/n threw her arms up in the air as Seasmoke flew through the clouds, huffing proudly.

"Yes. Do you like it? Being here atop the clouds?" Laenor asked his daughter who only giggled and said.

"Yes kepa" laenor smiled and said "If you like, we can fly on Seasmoke every now and then. Just don't tell your mother or i won't hear the end of it."

You smiled at the memory. Those times perished very quickly, right infront of your eyes.

You could only look ahead now, not behind. You may not even make it out alive today. But you'll die knowing that you tried.

_________________________________________

Meleys tackled Sunfyre in the sky as the roar of another dragon was heard. Larger wings taking off in the sky.

Vhagar had arrived.

"Thank the gods!" Aegon exclaimed before his face turned to horror upon realisation of what was to come.

"Dracarys!" Aemond said

"No! Noo!" Aegon screamed trying to take cover of his dragon. Meleys fled the moment Vhagar breathed fire.

Meleys was away from Vhagar and Sunfyre. Rhaenys felt no hope returning back home. She would fight. She would fight here and die. She closed her eyes and opened them slowly before saying

"Angōs Meleys.."

Meleys turned back to the fight, she gave a look to Rhaenys which she reciprocated. Rhaenys tightened her strap, and held tighter to the saddle.

Vhagar and Meleys were flying towards each other, when suddenly...

A loud roar could be heard...

Moonfyre came out of the clouds. Her size a close match to Vhagar.

She was one of the unhatched egg of Balerion and Dreamfyre before Balerion passed.

"Dracarys!"

All eyes went on the White dragon and her rider as she breathed fire. Vhagar flew away from the fire before she could collide with Meleys.

Rhaenys watched as Moonfyre the 9 year old dragon chased after Vhagar the 180 year old dragon. Both almost equal in size.

"Angōs Moonfyre!" Y/n shouted to her dragon.

Aemond looked back once. He didn't anticipate that another dragon, let alone the dragon of his once betrothed, would be coming to Rook's Rest.

He didn't turn away and flee. Vhagar turned back and charged towards the Nightdream.

The largest dragons collided with each other. Moonfyre clawed at Vhagar's wing as the Queen of the Dragons let out a loud wail.

Rhaenys got rid of any of the remaining green soldiers before joining Y/n in her battle.

Y/n grunted as Moonfyre flew away just in time to dodge Vhagar's attack.

Meleys came in and clawed at Vhagar's right wing. Tearing away some flesh from her wing.

Aemond, knowing he couldn't win and fled from Rook's Rest.

Yet amongst all, two were completely forgotten.....

Aegon the Usurper and Sunfyre the Golden....

Meleys told y/n that the last she saw them was when Sunfyre crashed near the woods.

Nodding at her grandmother's word, Y/n took off towards the direction of the woods along with Rhaenys.

_________________________________________

Moonfyre and Meleys were just a few feet away.

As you walked through the woods with Rhaenys, she drew out her sword for protection.

The two of you saw smoke coming out. Upon a closer look, the two of you saw Aegon and Sunfyre.

Aegon's body partly burned and bent. While Sunfyre's one wing was almost torn.

Rhaenys and you shared a look before deciding that you both would take Aegon back to Dragonstone.

Sunfyre was smaller than Moonfyre so she could carry the Gold dragon with her feet.

_________________________________________

"Your grace you must calm down-" Corlys tried to reason.

"How can I possibly calm down?! I don't know if my girl would return safely! I cannot lose another child!" Rhaenyra said, her voice raising.

All became silent....

A loud roar was heard. Rhaenyra and the rest ran outside. There they were...

Moonfyre and Meleys.

Rhaenyra squinted her eyes which widened when she saw what came with the dragon riders.

Moonfyre dropped Sunfyre's body a bit far before landing on the beach.

Y/n came down from Moonfyre as Rhaenys came down from Meleys, taking Aegon down with her.

Guards took Aegon's body away. He would be dealt with afterwards.

Rhaenyra ran and hugged her daughter. She offered Rhaenys a smile and thanked her for protecting her daughter.

Baela ran and hugged y/n as she hid her face in y/n's neck.

_________________________________________

When night came over Driftmark, you stood near the balcony. A letter in your right hand. You turned back to your trusted maid and gave her the letter.

She nodded and quickly left from to room. She was to deliver that letter to the one eyed prince or rather..... The Kinslayer..

You gently took the letter you had received from him that evening in your arms, reading it again.

You look up at the sky, closing your eyes as Moonfyre soared above the sky, your white hair flowing away from your face due to the wind.

The letter which you had received made you question everything. You do love that man even though he killed your brother..

Dear y/n,

I didn't expect to see you today. I realised after today that this war is neither yours nor mine to fight yet we both find ourselves tangled in it.

I wished for the throne because my brother is unfit for it. But I realise now that... I wish for you more. That I need you more than any throne, any power.

Aegon will die and so will the other Greens. I know that you would not believe me but I am willing to leave my grudges and be with you.

I need you not some Baratheon girl.

I have realised that you.. and i... We were born to die... together....

That was what the letter stated. You stilled as a vision flashed in your eyes.

Your little brother..... Was it Aegon or was it Viserys? Who ever it was.. looked quite grown up...

He was getting coronated....by Aemond..

You stood beside him, and on the opposite side stood Lord Cregan Stark...

You panted as your vision ended, eyes regaining their color.

Maybe everything was going to okay after the war ends.. You and Aemond lived.. your brother sat on the throne..you could only hope the rest of the family was okay.

You felt relieved a bit by the vision, thinking about the letter you had sent.

It stated that he must accept Rhaenyra as the queen and pledge loyalty to her. If he doesn't, there isn't any thing you can do. He already took your brother, your mother won't let go of that easily but he could try.

The last line was one of the same lines he wrote to you.....

"You and I .... We were born to Die...."

-Lillian

[marcskywalker]

alright alright

Merlin has made a habit of laying protective charms and spells on Arthur's armor. The man is a big liability (king or not, Merlin will say it as it is). Running into danger head first, without thought or concern, is his top favorite activity.

It's what makes Arthur Arthur; his courage in the face of death.

So yes, it's become a necessity for Merlin to charm his armor for strength and endurance.

He decides to charm the King's new set of armors in his royal chamber in the middle of the day, while Arthur is away presumably listening to another one of mind numbingly boring reports from his knights.

What is a safer place for Merlin other than this room? Where else can he walk in as he pleases? Move about as he pleases? Leave a mess, jest around, lock the door and loiter as he pleases?

Within these walls, no one would dare to question him.

The King's trust is loud enough.

So, Merlin lays out all the metal on the floor and begins. He holds the cold, sharp chestpiece in his hand. Imagines Arthur under it; Arthur's beating heart and his warm, soft, breakable skin.

His magic flows out of him without command or permission, desperate to erase all the images of his mortal king bleeding and weak.

Oh, protectors of Earth and Magic! Cradle him as you would cradle your son.

His eyes are ember, words still on his lips, the shimmer of magic over the metal, when door swings open.

"Leon is one of my oldest and closest friends, but by Gods he makes me miserable," Arthur lets out a long breath, as if to blow out all the air in his body, looking right at Merlin as he does so.

The gold finally fades from his eyes but Merlin is frozen in place, his bones and breath refusing to move, watching Arthur's face scrunch in confusion, a myriad of feelings flashing through his face before settling on stern eyes and pursed lips.

"Mingling with the druids a lot now, are we?"

"Arthur, I-"

"I know, I know!" he sighs, commanding his face to neutrality, stepping over Merlin and metal towards his desk, "They are my people, too. You're allowed to trade and learn from each other."

Despite his resigned tone, Merlin knows how hard Arthur has worked to ensure a place for Druids in Camelot. Writing in stone, clear as day, that he is more than his father's son; he has claimed them as citizens of Camelot, opening the doors to courts and trade and provisions equally for all in the Kingdom.

Watching Arthur grow into the prophesied will be Merlin's greatest pride. Even if magic is still prohibited to practice under the law, magic users aren't hunted like animals for existing. And Merlin has all the faith in his King that when the time is right, he will bring magic back into the land. Until then, he's happy to live in half shadows.

"I'm allowed to learn magic?" he can't help the skepticism and shock bleed into his tone.

"Well, no! I'm not allowing you for anything, Merlin. But I'm not stupid enough to believe that that's about to stop you."

"So," he draws out the word, unsure of how to step out of the conversation. Unsure if he should even be stepping out of the conversation. "I can learn more magic?"

"You know how I feel about this. The price I have- we have had to pay for it. If you still find yourself curious, do what-" gestures to the laid out armor on the ground, "-ever this is. I only ask that you be careful."

"I'm enchanting it. To keep you safe."

"In exchange for what, Merlin?"

"Nothing-", Merlin loses his grip on the conversation faced with the frightened heartbreak on Arthur's face; the courageous bones bending in unfamiliar ways. "I swear. Nothing. It's not any big magic. The druids do it all the time, we won't have to pay a price for this, Arthur."

"We'll see."

[imagine-you]

I Will Avenge My Ghost [Bucky Barnes/Reader]

Summary: Your sacrifice on Vormir was meant to be your end. You did it for love. You did it for family. And you had no regrets in your decision to be the one to jump instead of Steve. But you never expected to wake up in Wakanda and you certainly never thought that you would still lose Steve and your sister in the years since your death. While you can't get Steve back, you're determined to figure out what happened to your sister and you end up dragging Bucky along for the ride. Your questions lead you to Westview, a sleepy little town harboring a dark past, and a witch named Agatha Harkness. Will you find what you truly seek down, down, down the Witches' Road or will Death finally come to claim you?

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: I was going to hold off on this, but I watched episode seven and I had so many feelings I literally wrote this last night. If you enjoy this and would like to see this continue, please let me know!

Read On AO3

When you jumped off the cliff at Vormir, the decision had been easy. It had been a long five years without your sister and you would have given anything for Wanda. You would also give anything for Steve, and if this brought you closer to winning the war against Thanos and bringing all the lost back, then you would do it.  

A sacrifice of love was needed and you had nothing but love to give for those two. You couldn't live in a world without Steve and while he wanted to do the noble thing, you knew you would never be able to go on without him. So, you used your power one last time to push Steve far away from the edge of the cliff and then threw yourself over it. 

As you fell, you could hear Steve crying out for you. You always assumed your life would flash before your eyes like everyone claimed it would. But all you saw was Vormir's sky eclipsed by Steve reaching over the cliff's edge, as if he could still reach you. And then you saw nothing at all.  

You didn't remember hitting the rocks below, but the only people on your mind as death rushed to meet you were Steve and Wanda. Steve, selfless and sacrificing, and how much he yearned for his best friend, the person who truly understood him above all else, Bucky. And your sister, who had drifted away into dust and oblivion after losing the love of her life. Wanda, who had been forced to kill Vision, only to have it all be for nothing. Her grief had sent shockwaves through you and you would never forget the raw pain that had radiated off her after losing Vis. You couldn't bring Pietro back, and while his death would always weigh on your mind, you knew that you could bring Wanda back into the land of the living. 

You would make it right. You had to. Even if this was your end, then at least it meant something. At least it was used to save countless others.  

Death flowed endlessly around you in glimpses of life and snatches of memories, remembered and forgotten. They fell right through your grasp, never yours to begin with, but a tether to the world you longed to revisit. You fought and struggled, pulling at strands and words, willing them to materialize. You followed a lead, a road, that appeared before you and at the end, you expected to find Death. 

No one will ever be tempted by the darkhold again. 

I miss you. God, I miss you so much. 

I got my dance. I owed her that. I owed myself that. 

I can't feel you.  

We can't reverse death. 

You're gonna need me. 

Immortality never meant anything to me before, but I suppose you’re not mine after all. Not yet, at least. Don’t say I never did you any favors.

You didn't expect to wake up.  

You felt breath expand your lungs and you sat up with a gasp. You didn't know where you were or what had happened to you, but all you could think was that you failed. You had traded your life for the billions of others that had been snapped away by Thanos. If you were here, alive, then it had all been for nothing.  

"Hey, hey," someone was saying, and you could feel hands on your shoulders, but you didn't want to lift your head to try to see who was attempting to talk to you. "She's freaking out here. Don't you think you should do something, Shuri?" 

"And what would you have me do, Bucky? This might not even really be her. I thought her magic was blue." 

"It was," someone said. Bucky, you realized. It was Bucky who had you by the shoulders. "Hey, doll," Bucky tried, bringing a finger up to tuck under your chin and force your head up.  

You met Bucky's eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening. He hadn’t been wrong. You were freaking out, but it wasn’t going to do you any good now. You needed to figure out what the fuck was going on.  

"Bucky?" You tried, your words coming out as a rasp. "Am I alive?" 

Bucky looked like he was torn between relief and confusion. "Yeah, you're here with us." He gestured at the other two people in the room. You recognized one as King T'Challa's sister and you had already known Sam.  

"How did I get here? I died on Vormir. Or...I thought I did. I don't remember dying," you told them, trying to remember what happened. Death hadn't felt like an end, more like a journey. You had felt, all the while, like you were being lead somewhere. Maybe, you couldn't help but think, it was bringing you here.  

"We don't know how you got here," Sam interjected. His arms were crossed and he was wearing a new suit. It wasn't his usual Falcon getup. It was more reminiscent of Steve's, showcasing red, white, and blue with a star on the chest. The shield was strapped to his back, and you started to panic again.  

"Where's Steve?" You quickly let your gaze shift from Sam to Bucky again. “Bucky, where’s Steve? Did he make it? God, I gave up everything for him and if he still died...,” you trailed off, letting the thought go unfinished. It didn’t bear thinking about.  

Bucky turned to throw a look over his shoulder at Sam. You couldn't see Bucky's expression, but you could sure as hell see Sam's.  

Grief. Remorse. Apology. Pain. 

"No," you denied with a quick shake of your head. "I jumped so he would live. I jumped so he would get to have a life." You could feel a strange new energy thrumming along your limbs, and you didn't know how to contain it. You felt restless, an urgency rising within you that you didn't know how to quell.  

"He did," Bucky assured you, finally looking at you again. You felt like his hands on you was the only thing keeping you together, so when he made to draw away, you latched onto his shirt, pulling him closer. "Okay, okay," he soothed, moving to sit on the edge of the examination you realized you were lying on.  

He was treating you like a frightened animal, and you didn’t know how to feel about that. You were torn between seeking comfort in the familiarity of him and lashing out for letting you be so vulnerable. It wasn’t his fault. He was only doing what he could for you, but you were caught between anger and fear, and nothing good ever came out of that particular combination.  

"Then what happened? Where is he?" You demanded, looking from Sam to Shuri and back to Bucky again.  

"He...," Sam paused at another look from Bucky. "Well, she's gonna find out eventually." 

"What?" You snapped, hating that everyone in the room knew something you didn't. "What happened after I jumped?" 

"We defeated Thanos and the people he snapped away came back," Bucky told you, giving you the tiniest hint of a smile when your shoulders began to slump with relief. Before he started talking, his lips twisted to the side in a grimace and you knew he was about to throw you back into the deep end. "But, you've gotta realize that winning that war nearly destroyed Steve. He told me what happened on Vormir and he told me what he wanted to do."  

You were briefly distracted by a shimmer in the air around Bucky. You hadn't realized it before, but the air around him seemed to faintly glow red. As he spoke, it shifted to a light blue, and you were so distracted by the sight that you missed his next words.  

"You alright there, Maximoff?" Sam called, breaking you out of your fascination. The air around Sam seemed to glow just the slightest hint of green while Shuri had a purple aura around her.  

"I don't know?" You answered, ducking your hand to look at your hands. You felt off, somehow. You had never really been the same, not since losing your parents at a young age and having to look out for your younger brother and sister. After being subjected to experiments by sadistic scientists and coming out the other side with superpowers, you figured you would never lead a normal life. Steve had been the closest thing you had ever gotten to a fairytale ending and now he was gone.  

You felt unmoored, adrift, in this new reality and you were waiting to crash down again. You only hoped you would be given the opportunity to brace for impact when the time came.  

A light danced across your fingers, your magic beginning to flare up with your frustration. You had never been anywhere on your sister's level, your magic blue where hers was red and chaotic. But you had also been able to tame a flame and throw objects around with just a thought. She would always be the more powerful of the two of you, but you had held your own well enough in a fight.  

The magic that pushed up beneath your skin to pool in your palm was no longer blue, but orange.  

"Huh," you breathed, no longer able to accept that you were rooted in reality. "This is the weirdest dream ever." You finally looked back up at Bucky, catching his worried expression. "You think this is what I'm seeing before I die?" 

"Doll, that's what I've been trying to tell you. You did die," he stressed, tightening his grip on your shoulders. "There was never a body. Steve wanted to bring you back, but you just weren't there." 

"The soul stone must have claimed her. It did require a sacrifice," Shuri observed with a thoughtful noise. "I could tell something was happening. There was just too much energy and while I thought it was your sister, it turned out to be you swirling around in the air like a ghost. I still have no idea how you corporealized and got here from Vormir, but you're living and breathing," she assured you, gesturing towards a monitor you realized was showing your heartbeat, oxygen levels, and other vitals.  

There were too many worries crowding your mind and you tried to sort them out. You thought if you could just focus, then maybe something would start to make sense.  

"Steve?" You tried again, not able to accept that he might be gone.  

"He passed on," Sam said, his tone somber and apologetic. “Wasn’t that long ago, but I’m sorry to tell you, he’s no longer with us.” 

Bucky shot him a glare, but you shook your head.  

"No, tell me," you demanded, trying to force yourself to breathe. “I’m not going to get anywhere with you hiding things from me.” You wanted to scream and rage, but you weren't sure what your magic would do if you gave into the instinct. It was new, something you had to relearn, and you didn't want to hurt Bucky, Sam, or Shuri because you couldn't control it.  

"He, uh, well," Bucky started with a wince. "He had to bring the stones back to their original homes. He told me before he left that he was never going to be able to save you. Your death was tied to the fate of billions and there was nothing he could do to get you back. The soul stone wouldn't return you, but the time stone could still give him a life. It could help him right some past wrongs and regrets." 

Bucky stopped talking, but you didn't need him to continue. You could almost see it playing out like a movie in your mind. Steve searching for you one last time on Vormir only to be informed that you were no longer there. Steve leaving and finding Peggy. Steve finally getting his dance. Steve getting his happy ending.  

Without you.  

You pulled away from Bucky, your hands curling into themselves as you felt your power build up. A brilliant, blinding orange light caressed your skin and you threw your hands out to the sides, releasing everything that had been building up.  

You let out a scream, throwing your head back as you attempted to claw back control from the wild impulse of your magic. It was untamed, no longer held under your will, and you felt like it would tear you apart. It was lighting you up from the inside and you were distantly aware of the smell of smoke and flame.  

Someone was shouting your name, attempting to bring you back to yourself. But all you could feel was pain and the agony of losing Steve after all was almost too much for you to take.  

Someone wrapped their arms around you, trapping your arms at your sides. It was enough to pull you out of your grief, the surprise of being so fully embraced while you were feeling like a bomb that had finally gone off shocked you into finally reeling your magic back in and storing it away.  

Bucky had you in a tight hold, but it wasn't restricting. It was comfort and reassurance and understanding.  

 “You couldn’t have done that before she burned a hole through the floor?” Shuri wondered, sounding exasperated.  

“Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?” Sam wondered, his voice drifting away as he searched for something to put out the fire that was still raging on the floor.  

"I know," he was whispering, ignoring all the alarms you had accidentally set off. You could hear Shuri cursing and Sam rifling through a cabinet. "I know, alright? It hurts. It hurts me too," Bucky confided in you, keeping his voice low enough so only you could hear him. “But you’ve gotta keep it in right now. Just for now. And then I’ll get you someplace where you can let it all go. Once we know you’re okay,” he added after a moment.  

 You let your arms wrap around Bucky's waist, resting your head on his shoulder. He brought a hand up, letting it curl around the back of your neck, holding you in place. You could feel tears tracking down your cheeks, but you no longer wanted to cry. You had gotten your answer, and while it wasn't what you wanted, you couldn't begrudge Steve a happy ending. Not after everything he had given up to save the world time and again.  

 You absentmindedly reached a hand out, drawing on the flames and letting the fire fall into your hand. You closed your hand into a fist, letting it die.  

“Neat trick you’ve got there. You couldn’t have done that sooner?” Sam asked, finally brandishing a fire extinguisher that was no longer needed.  

“Perhaps we should give them a moment,” Shuri suggested to Sam. “Why don’t you come look at these readouts with me?” 

“I’m not a toddler. You don’t have to distract me,” Sam grumbled, but he dutifully followed Shuri to the other side of the room, leaving you and Bucky with a small measure of privacy.  

"I'm sorry," you muttered into Bucky's shoulder, letting yourself only focus on him. "I'm sorry he left you. He really loved you, you know." 

"Yeah," Bucky huffed out on a humorless laugh. "He really loved you too." 

You stayed like that for a while, soaking up Bucky's presence while everything fell apart around you.  

"Sam's Cap now?" You checked, knowing that if Sam wielded the shield, then he had taken on the mantle. “He’s good for it.” You knew that if Steve had passed on the shield to Sam, then it was with very good reason. You had always assumed that if Steve retired, then Bucky would take on the role of Captain America, but looking at him now, Bucky just seemed tired. Maybe he didn’t so much want to play hero as he wanted to simply stop looking over his shoulder at every turn waiting for his past to resurface.  

"Yeah," Bucky answered, finally pulling away enough to look at you. "You missed a lot while you were gone, you know." 

"How long has it been since I died, Bucky?" Steve was gone and Sam was Captain America and Bucky seemed less constrained, but still wary. It was a monumental change, but you had a sinking feeling it was only the tip of the iceberg. 

"Years." Bucky watched you in silence for a long, drawn-out moment. You heard the door open, but didn't bother to see if it was admitting someone new or if Shuri and Sam had finally had enough of pretending they weren’t eavesdropping on your conversation with Bucky. "Look, there's something I should tell you, but after how you reacted to Steve, I don't know how you're gonna take this." 

"What are you--" 

"I almost didn't believe it," someone interrupted, and you finally looked over to see Stephen Strange standing in the doorway. "It's miraculous is what it is," he continued, not aware of the way you tensed at his presence.  

There was something dark in the air around him. It looked as if something had latched on to him and was content to be a passenger. You didn't know why you were literally seeing people in a new light, but you knew that whatever had happened with Stephen wasn't good. It was like it had left a stain on his soul. 

"Stephen," you greeted with a nod of your head. "What the hell happened to you? You’re...different," you decided, watching how the inky wisps attached to his aura pulsed at your words. You couldn’t tell if it was something separate or if it was simply a part of Strange now.  

Stephen's brow furrowed in confusion. He shot Bucky a look and then Sam and Shuri. "Did you--?" He let the question hang, waiting for them to answer. 

"No," Shuri told him, watching you in interest. "She's changed. Her power has evolved with her death." 

You swung your legs over the side of the table and let yourself stand. Bucky reached out to help you or hold you back, you weren't sure, but you waved him off. Another question had come to mind, and you instinctively knew that Stephen would have something to do with the answer you were seeking. Shuri had mentioned your sister earlier and now she was all you could think about. Why did Shuri it was your sister trying to materialize? Wasn’t Wanda alive? You would never get Steve back, and you would never want to rip away whatever peace he had stolen for himself. But Wanda would need you. Wanda always needed you. If something had happened to her in your absence, then it was your job to find her and help her.  

So, you met Stephen's gaze and held your head high, not wanting to show even a hint of weakness.  

"Where's my sister?" You asked, daring him to lie to you. You could see a flicker of uncertainty in his expression as you advanced on him. You could feel the tempting crackle of your power tingling along your fingers. You longed to see Wanda, knowing that she would be the only thing keeping you from truly falling apart. Your sacrifice had cost you more than your life. It had cost you Steve. And you would be damned if it also cost you your sister.  

You felt like your soul was reaching out to her, your entire being aching to pull her back into your orbit, but there was a strange emptiness inside you. It was like she was drifting further away from you by the second.  

Stephen met your gaze, never letting it stray. "What do you know about the darkhold?" Stephen finally responded after what felt like an eternity waiting for any news about what had happened to your sister. 

It wasn't what you wanted to hear and you couldn't help but lash out with your magic. It had been coiled, ready to strike, and who were you to deny it when you finally had a worthy target?  

You had expected to simply push him with your power. It had been a familiar defensive response before your death, but now your magic seemed to take hold of the reigns. It curled out away from you and wrapped around his throat. You could hear his breath cut off and Bucky was calling your name, but you didn't care.  

There was only one thing you cared about at the moment and Stephen Strange seemed to hold all the answers.  

So, you decided to give him one more chance and posed the question that had overtaken your mind.  

"Where's Wanda?"  Additional Author's Note: If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!!

[knight-of-flowerss]

BLOOD SACRIFICE

Vampire!Benjicot 'Davos' Blackwood x Septa!Reader

There will be smut so Minors DNI 18+

SNIPPET OF ONE OF THE THREE STORIES!

Synopsis: Many say the church can protect you against evil, that’s a lie. You pray to the Seven for forgiveness and protection, but they do not grant it. The stranger himself gets invited into the church, what will you do when he bears his fangs and gives you the choice between death or lust?

The stained glass shines from the illumination of the moon, the light refracting and casting shadows. My veil covers my hair, billowing down my back and coating the floor in the laced fabric.

My hand clutches my rosary, my mouth moving fast as I mutter prayers to the Seven. There had been talks of a monster amongst us. Murders of young, vulnerable women had become the new town myth, they say a Vampire.

Yes, a Vampire apparently walks amongst us. Ridiculous but precautions must be maintained.

We do not know if the Vampire is tall or short. Young or old. Pretty or ugly. All we know is that there is someone with a bloodlust amongst us.

My prayers are dedicated to the Seven, specifically the Warrior. I prayed to him for protection, to help rid us of this foul disease plaguing the Riverlands.

"I pray to the Warrior for protection and bravery, give me strength and safety and I will forever be in your debt." I mutter, my eyes closed and mind blank, only focusing on the words I’m speaking and which of the Seven I am praying to.

After praying to the Warrior, the Father, Mother, Maiden, the Crone and even the Smith, I go to pray to the Stranger, but something stops me.

I hear a scratch on wood. I stop my prayer for a few seconds, listening to hear. Nothing. So I go back to praying. "I pray to the Stranger-" scratch, scratch, scratch.

I pause, my eyebrows furrowing as I finally open my eyes, moving my eyes around the very empty church, my eyes land on nothing. There is nothing here with me. There must be rats in the wall.

I open my mouth to continue before a loud banging makes me jump and drop my rosary. I look behind me and see the door shake with the sheer force of the knocks.

Once the knocks cease I get the courage to call out in the darkness, "Who comes here at the hour of the wolf?"

Silence. "Answer me!" Silence as well.

I stand up from my sitting position, discarding my rosary as it lays neglected on the floor. I slowly walk towards the large double doors, my bare feet planting on the cold stone.

My body reaches the door, fingers instinctively reaching out and grabbing onto the handle. I go to pull it but I hesitate. What was on the other side? A cat? A person? The killer?…

You only live once, if I am to die then I am to die, it is what the Seven want.

I use a lot of my strength to pull open one of the doors to reveal the cold to the warm.

As my eyes scour as much as the darkness allows me to see. I turn my head right, nothing. I turn my head left, a shadow.

I shriek out of shock, jumping as I look at the body before me. A man. He has scruffy black hair, a cocky grin and a scar above his lip.

"Greetings, Septa." He smirks, enjoying my reaction. Who was this man? "Greetings… how may I help you?…" My tone is sceptical, unsure.

"I need a place to rest until the morrow. Well, it already is, what I mean is when the sun rises." He flashes a charming but cocky smile, stepping slowing infront of me. He was tall and lean, towering over me.

"Of course, you could have just came inside you know? Come, step inside, you are always welcome at the Church." His smile widens and turns into a smirk. His eyes flashing an emotion I cannot put my finger on. But it wasn’t just an emotion. I swear I had saw his deep, dark eyes flash a bright red, but it was dark, the hour of the wolf, I am just tired.

I welcomed the young man inside, smiling politely as I let him in. Shutting the door, I do not realise the danger I face. I have just locked myself in an isolated Church with a Vampire. Gods help me…

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 5)

Pairings : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic), Dean Winchester x Lisa Braden (mentioned)

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: heavy angst, spoilers s1-s6, mentions of violence, foul language, brief mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.(no details).

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing

A/n: For the purpose of this series, Sam came back with his soul. Gemma and Will Campbell are OCs.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Bobby watched Dean drive away. He never imagined he'd do something like that. He turned to see y/n on the ground.

"No...no Sammy. Come back." She dug her fingers into the ground. "Please." She sobbed as she continued digging as if the cage would still be under the ground. She hoped by some miracle it would open up and give her best friend back.

"Y/n let go." Bobby tried prying her hands off the ground. "Let go God dammit your fingers are bleeding." He jerked her body upwards and dragged her off to his truck. He made her sit inside and grabbed her stuff from her car. He got into the driver's seat, and took off. After an hour of driving she calmed down.

"Hey! How come you're walking again? I mean not that it's bad but I'm curious." Y/n asked Bobby.

"I sold my soul to Crowley to find Death. He said he could give me anything so he gave me my legs back too."

"Crowley the demon? Gave you your legs back?"

"Strange world we live in." Bobby shrugged. Y/n give him a look. "What?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Excuse me?"

"You sold your soul to a demon? You're gonna have your ass dragged to hell you know that?"

"He said he's borrowing it."

"Wow Bobby, he said and you believed. Thats a demon. You can't trust demons." Bobby didn't say anything after that. Halfway through the drive Y/n called out Bobby's name. He glanced at her urging her to go on.

"I'm pregnant." She said making Bobby hit the brakes abruptly.

"Come again?"

"I'm pregnant."

"What?" He was shocked to the core at the revelation. She only stared ahead not looking him in the eye. "What the hell were you thinking confronting Lucifer? Are you mad? Did you have no regard for your life or that child's?" Bobby yelled as he started to drive again.

"I'm sorry I just couldn't sit back and watch." She whispered.

"Did you three plan this scheme 'kill Bobby of a heart attack'." He sighed and then he paused. "Who's the father?" He asked.

"Dean." She looked out of the window as the scenery passed.

"Figures. Did you tell him?" She shook her head 'no'. "Will you tell him?"

"Do you really think he wants anything to do with me after the way he left?" She snapped. Bobby stayed silent.

"I'm taking you to a hospital, we need to get you checked." Y/n nodded.

The two of them made their way back home after a long drive and a pit stop at the doctors. She was fine and the baby was healthy too. They gave her some prescription and told her to rest. Bobby had told her she'd be staying with him from now on and he won't take no for an answer. He cared for the three of them like their own. Now with Sam being dead and Dean being God knows where he'd like to keep her here safe. Ever more now that she's pregnant.

"I'm telling you, you should tell Dean. He deserves to know."

"Dean didn't give two shits before walking away from us Bobby, we've known him for years. Do you think he'd care for a bastard child like that?" Y/n retorted.

"Watch your language, young lady. That's my grandchild you're talking about." Bobby scolded her. Ofcourse he thinks of Y/n as the daughter her never had.

"Well news flash Bobby this ain't no love child." Bobby rolled his eyes at her comment.

"I'm sure he'd-"

"You know what actually? I'm sure he would want to know but I don't want to tell him. Walking out was his decision and not telling him about this is my decision." Y/n said walking away.

It had been two months since Sam died and Dean left. Y/n still mourned Sam's death and she missed him dearly. She wondered how he'd react to the news of her being pregnant. She's at five months now. She was in the main room cleaning and refilling her guns. Just because she's not allowed to hunt for the time being doesn't mean she won't be cautious.

She heard a knock on the door and she knew Bobby wasn't supposed to be back until later. She grabbed her gun and stuffed it in the back of her jeans. She grabbed her shotgun and went to the door. When she opened the door, her jaw hit floor. She couldn't believe her eyes. There stood Sam Winchester in the flesh.

"Y/n." He breathed out and she pointed the shot gun at his chest. "It's me, Sam."

"Not you're not. Sam's dead."

"I know I died Y/n but I'm back."

"That's not possible. Who brought you back? Was it Dean?" It pained her to say his name but now's not the time to think about that.

"I don't know what or who brought me back but I'm willing to go to every test." He raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright." And with that she shot him.

"Ow son of a bitch. That hurt Y/n." He complained.

"It was just rock salt, don't be a bitch."

"Jerk." Sam replied and for second her guard dropped. Still pointing the gun at him she grabbed a silver knife from her back pocket and threw it at him. He caught it and sliced his arm, he showed her as the blood trickled down his arm. She then grabbed the holy water and threw it at his face.

"A little warning would've been appreciated." Sam sassed  as he wiped the water from his eyes. "Can I hug you now?"

She kept staring at his face. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to main room and made him stand under the devils trap. Sam looked up and then moved away from the trap. Before either of them could say anything Y/n jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back and he felt something different about Y/n as he hugged her.

"How did this happen, Sammy?" She asked as they pulled away.

"Uh i don't know." He replied looking at her oddly. Y/n was thankful that she was wearing one of Sam's shirts, it was huge on her so her body was completely covered. Not that she had huge bump but still whatever she had, it was covered.

"How long have you been back?"

"Two months?"

"TWO MONTHS? SAM WINCHESTER YOUVE BEEN BACK FOR TWO MONTHS???" She exclaimed loudly. "Where have you been for the past two months?"

"Yeah I've been researching, I needed to know how I came back and uh I went to see Dean." He explained.

"You met Dean? Why's he not here?" She shouldn't care but she did.

"I didn't meet him. I just saw him." Sam replied.

"What do you mean? Why didn't you meet him? Where is he?"

"He is living with Lisa and Ben. He uh... he looked normal, he's living the apple pie life he always wanted and I couldn't go up there and take it all away from him." Sam told her with a sad smile. They both knew Dean would drop anything for his brother.

Y/n knew Lisa, she's met her once when they helped her get her son, Ben, back. Lisa was in Dean's life way before Y/n was. That was his only serious long term relationship she's ever known of. Lisa is a wonderful woman and it made sense why he left Y/n for someone like her.

"Was he...did he seem happy?" She had to ask.

"The happiest I've ever seen him. I didn't have it in me to go ahead and ruin everything. He looked so happy but I knew if I went in there he'd leave all of it to be back in hunting. I couldn't do that to him." Sam told her honestly.

"I agree."

"Where's Bobby?" Sam asked and the man in question entered the house and gasped at the sight in front of him. He grabbed the shot gun by the stairs and aimed at Sam. "Aw dammit not again."

"It's alright Bobby i checked. I did all the tests." Y/n intervened. The older man lowered his gun.

"Tell me something only Sam Winchester would know!" He demanded.

"A month before I fell, you lost your years to a witch in poker and then Dean lost to get your years back which made him old. But then I won back Dean's years and he turned back to normal." Sam narrated.

"What? When did that happen?" Y/n giggled as Bobby pulled Sam in a hug.

"When Bobby came to help us with the witch. You stayed back when we last hit the road." Sam replied.

"Oh I remember that, but you didn't tell me Dean got old." She laughed.

"Dean told me not to." Sam replied.

"Did you tell him?" Bobby asked Y/n and her eyes widened.

"Tell me what?" Sam asked warily.

"Uh look at that would ya? It's time for lunch. Why don't you wash up Bobby I'll set the table. You must be hungry too Sam." She said walking into the kitchen as Bobby went to freshen up. Sam followed her into the kitchen and she brush past him.

"Tell me what Y/n?"

"Would you like a beer, Sammy?" She pulled out a bottle and passed it to him. He banged his hand against the table gaining her attention.

"Tell me what?"

"I'm pregnant. It's Dean's." Y/n said calmly. The beer bottle slipped from his hands onto floor and shattering into a million pieces.

"What?" He asked completely in shock. Y/n pulled her shirt up a bit and it showed her bump. Sam stared at in utter disbelief. "I had no idea you and him? You and Dean you...?" He stuttered.

"It happened one night. It was a mistake." She lied. Ofcourse it wasn't one night and it wasn't a mistake either. But what can she even tell him.

"Does he know? Did you tell him?"

"No." She replied as she continued to set the food on the table.

"Why? Why wouldn't you tell him? he wanted a family for as long as i can remember."

"And he has a family. With Lisa. And Ben. I'm a hunter Sam, he can't have that white picket fence life with me which has with them. Don't you think he should live with the woman he loves and not with some good lay and a bastard child?" She snapped.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to say that word?" Bobby glared at Y/n as he entered the kitchen.

"What? That's your summoning? I say bastard child and you appear out of thin air?" Y/n replied sarcastically.

"You watch how you speak to me." Bobby's glare deepened.

"You can't kick me out. I'm carrying your grandchild." She stuck her tongue out the man she's come to love, as her father, over the years.

"I can when it's born."

"You wouldn't." She rolled her eyes.

"Are you two done? Because i would like to rewind to the part where you called yourself 'some good lay'." Sam sighed.

"What? You want me to say I was bad?" She joked.

"How are you not affected by all this? Stop acting like it doesn't bother you." Sam bellowed. He knew it must've been killing her inside.

"It doesn't bother me Sam."

"You have to tell Dean." He pressed on.

"I will not and if you did, I will shoot you. Not with a shot gun filled with rock salt but I'll put an actual bullet through you. And this is not an empty threat."

"I know things weren't good the last time we were here, he said things, he was stressed -"

"No Sam. It has nothing to do with what happened the last time."

"What is it then?"

"He left." Bobby said. "After you fell, he drove off leaving me and her behind. He didn't look back and we haven't heard from him since." He said solemnly looking at Y/n.

"I won't tell him. I promise." Sam said to y/n and She nodded. Sam felt a pang of guilt hit him. He remembered the talk he had with hin on their drive to Detroit. If only he hadn't made Dean promise to not find Y/n and go back to Lisa, things would've been different. Dean would've been here with his child and Y/n wouldn't have to go through this all alone. If only he had known. But how could've he known.

"Sam? You zoned out.!" Y/n called out.

"Yeah uhm I'm fine just too much to take in." Y/n nodded in agreement and Sam filled the two of them about the past two months. How his grandfather Samuel is also back from the dead. And he's been staying with him distant maternal cousins for the past two months.

Sam introduced Y/n to Samuel and his family. They've been getting along fine and Sam's back to hunting with the Campbells.

Three months later Y/n gave birth to Adeline Mary Winchester. No-one other than Bobby and Sam knew who the was the father of Adeline. Adeline was the cutest baby Sam had ever seen and much to Y/n's dismay, she looked exactly like her father. She had bright green eyes and dirty blonde hair. She had freckles all over her cheeks and nose just like Dean's. She reminded her too much of Dean.

"She looks exactly like Dean, no offence y/n." Sam said as he cradled his niece.

"None taken, Sammy. I know she looks like him." He placed her in her arms gently. "Hi there sweetheart." Y/n cooed at her daughter. "Isn't she adorable?"

"She's lovely." Sam commented. "I wish Dean was here." She wished too.

"But he's not."

"Because he doesn't know." Sam replied.

"I'd like to keep it that way. And we're not having this conversation again."

Y/n missed hunting. She'd been staying put and helping with research at Bobby's but she missed hunting. Neither of the men allowed her to go on hunts even if it was a basic salt and burn. Adeline had turned four months old three days ago. She was currently in Bobby's arms as she slept and Sam's on a hunt with Samuel.

The phone rang and Y/n answered it before it rang too much and woke up Addy.

"It's Gemma." She's one of Sam's distant cousins. Barely eighteen but a good hunter. "Me and Will are on a hunt and seems like we might need backup." Y/n relayed the information to Bobby hoping he'd let her go since there's no one else. The old man rolled his eyes and nodded. Y/n squealed with happiness and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you. Addy darling mommy's gonna be back before you know it." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Don't bother the old man okay? I love you."

Y/n packed her stuff and drove her car to the town Gemma told her they would be in. It was dark when she left Sioux Falls and she arrived at the town at 4:20am. She met up with Gemma and Will. They decided they'd get those ambush the nest first thing in the morning. The three stayed in a motel room where Gemma took one bed and Y/n slept on the other. William was kind enough to give up on a bed and opt for the pullout couch instead. It had been a while since Y/n had been in a motel room.

It reminded her of Dean, how he would pull her in for a kiss every time Sam went out. Or how he would make her feel good when they shared a room. How he would make sweet passionate love to her and how the two of them created Adeline in a motel room. Then she felt bitter. He didn't make love to her, he had sex with her. If only he loved her like her told her, he would've never hurt her this bad. Or leave her alone by herself.

The morning came earlier than she expected and the three of them drove to the warehouse which was the supposed Vampire nest. There were nine vampires in total. Y/n hadn't felt this thrill in the past few months and she was thriving on it. Pumped up with adrenaline, she went in for the kill and ended up killing five on her own. All her frustration washing away with vampires' blood . Gemma and Will finished off the other four. The two rookies were impressed by her skills. The sun had set when they were with cleaning and disposing off the bodies. The three skipped town as soon as they cleaned up because a few of Gemma and Will's guns were at the motel, out in the open, the cleaning maid saw them and called the police.

They stopped two towns over to grab a few drinks. It was around nine pm. It had been a long time since y/n had alcohol. They went inside the bar and grabbed a table. Gemma and Will ordered beers but Y/n went for whiskey. She downed it one go and asked for another.

"Hey don't look at me like that, it's been a while i hunted or even drank." The two smirked and cheers to her. She decided to give Bobby a call and let him know that she'd be home in a few hours and asked if Addy was doing okay. To which he told that Sam's back and Addy has been with him since. She sighed in relief when she heard that.

"How's Addy?" Gemma asked.

"She's good. Sammy is back and she's with him right now." Y/n smiled thinking about her little girl. Her Dean jr.

The bar door opened and two men walked inside, one of the them was chattering too loudly which made Y/n look up and she wished she hadn't. She saw Dean walking in with a man she didn't recognise. She watched as Dean heard his friend's chatter with a smile on his face. He looked...normal. Just some guy you'd find at a bar on the weekend. He didn't look like Dean Winchester. The one she knew. She hoped he doesn't see her but has luck ever been on her side? He looked at her and their eyes met.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes landed on her. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. It's almost been an year since he last saw her but the mere sight of her was enough to make him fold. She looked just a beautiful as the day he left her. The day he broke her heart but ripped his own into pieces. She looked like he had gained some weight, but it suited her. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, those same lips that he used to kiss sore, the same lips let out those sinful noises when he made her feel good. Those lips, he'd give anything to feel against his own.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sid asked as he noticed Dean stop.

"Yeah man, I'm good." He said still looking at her. He knows he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself before he spoke, "i think I saw someone from my high school, let's go say hi." He said walking towards her table.

"Sure." Sid followed behind him.

Y/n's heart rate picked up as he got closer, why is he walking towards us. Is going to act like he knows me? The sheer audacity of this man. Hasn't he broken me enough why..

"Hey.! Gracie Henderson, right?" Dean spoke as he reached their table. Gemma and Will turned to look up at him.

Damn you Dean. Fuck you. He had to strike a nerve there. That was their alias when they had to go undercover as a couple. It was always Y/n and Dean since Sam couldn't like a couple with Y/n. He just had to make everything awkward, so it was always Dean and Y/n. Gracie Henderson and her husband Troy Henderson.

Ofcourse he couldn't miss the chance to hurt me again. Y/n thought to herself.

"Huh?" Y/n feigned ignorance.

"You're Gracie right? We went to high school together." Dean said looking right at her.

"Sorry? I think you have the wrong person." Y/n spoke the alcohol in her system giving her the courage to speak to him. "I never went to high school and its Adeline."

"Alright my bad." Dean said, his friend mumbling a sorry before they went to sit at the table beside theirs. His friend went to order for them and he sat there eavesdropping the conversation happening at the table beside him.

"He definitely knows you. That was one of your aliases." Gemma said as soon as Dean left. Y/n shrugged in response ordering another drink. "Cmon y/n tell us why did you act like you didn't know him?"

"Because he's Dean Winchester." She practically sneered his name. Dean flinched at the way she said name.

"What really ? He's Dean?" Will spoke for the first time in awhile. Y/n nodded.

"Why didn't you tell him to join us?" Gemma asked and Will added a "yeah why not?"

"Are you two dumb? What part of his appearance says he's a hunter? He's not in the business anymore. And the guy that came with him? He screams 9 to 5. So what did you two expect me to invite him to our table and reminisce the time we went to a fucking high school to burn the body of his brother's friend and his friend's bully?" Y/n spoke agitatedly and the two nodded in understanding. She downed her drink.

"I can't believe i came here out for this. You two needed backup for nine vampires? You know Bobby doesn't let me go on hunts. I came out to hunt after almost a year and its some stupid fucking vampires." She sighed dramatically.

Dean perked up when he heard her say she hadn't hunted in almost an year. Is she out of the business too? What does she mean Bobby doesn't let her hunt.

"You haven't hunted in almost a year and still you took down five vampires on your own." Will sat there in total awe. "You're my new role model."

Sid had already came back but Dean's attention was still on y/n. He smiled when he heard she took down five vampires on her own, that's my girl. He thought to himself.

"You two kiddos did good too. I'm sorry I snapped, I'm a bit stressed." Y/n said.

"It's alright." Gemma smiled.

"I'll head out." Y/n said grabbing her jacket and threw a few bills to for her bills.

"You're driving back to Sioux Falls?" Will asked and she nodded. "Aren't you drunk?"

"I've only had three drinks."

"Yeah of whiskey." Gemma added.

"Trust me kiddo. It takes a lot more than that to get me drunk." She replied and Dean noticed a lingering sadness in her voice.

The love of his life has been through hell and back and she's still kicking it. He wishes he could just grab her and disappear from the surface of the earth. To keep her from harms way and keep her protected from all the sadness and hurt. He wish he could love her the way she deserves to be loved. He watched as she left the bar before yelling a "get home safe kiddos."

The first thing y/n did as she reached home was to see Adeline. It was around five in the morning when she reached home. She saw Sam in the kitchen eating cereal and looking at his computer while he held Adeline on his lap.

"Good morning." She said as she entered the kitchen.

"Look Addy, mommy's back." Sam said holding her up. The baby giggled as she saw her mother approaching her.

"There's my baby." She picked up Adeline in her arms. "Did you miss mommy?" She asked in baby voice and the little girl flailed her arms, excitedly tapping her mother's cheeks.

"How was your 'first' hunt?" Sam joked earning an eye roll.

"It was good, vamps nest." She said sitting beside him, pulling her hair away from Adeline who was gripping it too tightly.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked noticing the stress lines on his best friend's face.

"I'm fine, why'd you ask?"

"You have that look on your face." Sam replied gesturing to her face.

"What look?"

"That look when something is bothering you but you're too prideful to say."

"I don't have such look on my face." Y/n said bouncing Addy on her lap.

"Y/n." Sam stared at her. He knows it's only a matter of seconds before she's spilling the truth.

"I met Dean okay? No big deal." She sighed.

"What? You met Dean? How?" Y/n filled in him with everything that happened after the hunt.

"He looked like a common man, it was weird seeing him. And the audacity to walk up to me and say hi? He was lucky he was with someone or I would've bashed his face in the table." Y/n growled her hold tightening on Adeline.

"Maybe he missed you and he thought after seeing you again he could talk to you." Sam said hoping he could get her hate him a little less.

"Well he thought wrong." She said angrily making her way out of the kitchen.

"Do you want me to watch Addy while you rest?" Sam called out from behind her.

"I am very much capable of taking care of my daughter on my own." She snapped, she didn't mean she didn't need Sam's help, she always appreciated his existence. But at the moment her words had a different meaning. She wanted Sam to know that just because she met Dean doesn't mean she will let him be in Adeline's life.

Sam sighed as he watched her walk away. He most definitely understood the meaning behind her words. Y/n went to her room and laid Adeline on the bed. She kneeled beside the bed and looked at her daughter. Adeline wiggled amd giggled staring at her mother. Y/n couldn't help but let a few tears run down her cheek. She never wanted this to be her daughter's life, she didn't need her innocent baby to grow up around monsters, without her father being there to protect her.

"How I wish I could hate your father, Addy. I resent him for what he did to us but I still love him. How could I not when he has given me you." She whispered, her daughter stared up the her with her bright green eyes that reminded her so much of her lost love. She placed soft kisses on her chubby cheeks before putting her in her crib. Y/n sighed as she got into bed. Little did she know this was the last time she had a good night's sleep in a long time.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @queensilber @deangirl96 @galway-girlatwork @hobby27

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 7

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, dealer!ellie, LOSER!ELLIE, cursing, ANGST, use of marijuana and alcohol, brief mention of death, descriptions of a weapon (it's just ellie's switchblade), sexual speech and content, brief mention of violence, brief description of homophobia, ellie's POV, minors do not interact

word count: 3.5k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

“Ellie, seriously, calm down. Also, can you hand me the fucking joint already?” 

Dina watches as Ellie paces back and forth across the living room of the apartment Ellie shared with Jesse. She’d come back early from her Electrical Engineering Design class after silently storming out a mere 15 minutes into the lecture. She had her Particle Physics class in less than an hour, but she had very little intention of attending. 

She’d even bailed on making a quick stop at Ruston Coffee in order to reclaim the jacket she’d lent to Daniela. She had four unread texts from her, but she ignored them. 

“Dude, I just—” Ellie starts. 

“I know,” Dina replies. “But can you blame her?” 

Ellie doesn’t reply, instead angrily groaning as she plops down next to Dina on the couch. She hands Dina the joint, which was already half-burnt. 

“God, at least ash it first,” Dina complains, taking it from her and flicking the dusty remains into an ashtray on the coffee table. “Anyway, what the fuck is she supposed to do? Not move on from you?” 

“No, but—” 

“You’re only this mad because Abby Anderson’s the one she was seeing before you,” Dina says before taking a hit of the joint. “I mean, you’d still be irritated if it was someone else. But now, your ego is a little bruised.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Ellie scoffs. “And she and I weren’t seeing each other, we—” 

“It’s been two fucking years. You need to stop saying that shit.” Dina interrupts, getting exasperated. 

“We literally weren’t—” 

“Who the fuck cares, Ellie?”

“D—” Ellie attempts, but Dina continues. 

“She was in love with you, and you were so fucking in love with her. And don’t try to pull that shit with me, saying that you weren’t in love with her.” Dina adds, seeing that Ellie was about to interrupt once more. “Everyone saw it, and everyone knew it. Fuck, even Joel saw it, and it’s Joel.” 

Ellie says nothing, choosing to stare intensely at her fists. They were turning white from how hard she was clenching them in agitation. 

It had been so long since she’d seen your smile, the honest and genuine kind that you used to flash at her countless times. She hadn’t seen it since before your cousin Rafael passed away. The way it’d adorned your face so naturally just now, it broke something in her today the moment she glanced your way. Something that she’d hastily patched up after you cut her off completely. And for Abby Anderson to be the reason for that smile… 

Dina purposely blowing smoke in Ellie’s face wakes her up from her reverie. 

“The fuck, D…” Ellie complains, coughing and fanning a hand in her face to clear the smoke. 

“Jesse and I love you very much,” Dina continues, ignoring her curses. “But to be honest, we’ve kind of been pissed with you for a while now.” 

Ellie’s eyes shoot up to frown at her. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Dina sighs. 

“We love her a lot too, you know. And we miss her. The past year, she’s pulled away from us because of you. And we would have pushed, but she asked us not to. She asked us not to choose and to just keep being friends with you like normal.” 

“I—“ Ellie stutters. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Because she told us not to tell you.” Dina sighs. “Even after you hurt her, she still thought about you. She knew how much we mean to each other, and she didn’t want to get in the way of that. And that’s why she hasn’t told either me or Jesse what happened between you two when you took her home at the end of that summer.” 

Ellie puts her head in her hands, recalling that drive. That day rattled in her mind constantly over the past year or so. She’d tried consistently to repress it at first, but it was all cemented in her mind: your nervous twitching and fidgeting, the way your lips trembled when you spoke, the redness of your eyes as you fought not to cry. Eventually, she gave up trying to forget it all; deep down, she knew she deserved to live with the guilt. 

“Fuck.” Ellie sighs. 

“Yeah.” 

They sit in silence for a few moments as Dina finished the rest of the joint, eventually putting it out on the ashtray. 

“So,” Dina finally speaks. “You gonna tell me what made her break up with you?” 

Ellie sighs. 

“I don’t think you really wanna know, D.” She mutters. 

“You know,” Dina says. “It’s not really fair that you’ve had me and Jesse update you nonstop the past year on what’s been going on with her, but then you won’t tell either of us what went down.” 

“It’s just…” Ellie continues, thinking. “I know you both think I was real shitty for what I did to her. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t think that. But I don’t want you both to think that I’m a complete and total asshole.” 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You are a complete and total asshole.” Dina shrugs. 

“Oh, you dick.” Ellie says, smacking Dina’s arm a little too hard. 

“Ow!” Dina complains, rubbing the spot where Ellie hit her. “We don’t all go to the gym religiously, you know. Some of us are delicate!” 

“Pussy.” Ellie chuckles. 

Dina rolls her eyes before getting up from the couch. 

“Anyway, get your shit together, Williams. I gotta go.” She says. “Got class in about 20 minutes.” 

“Skip it.” 

“No. Go to your next class, Els.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Ellie says dismissively, brushing her off. 

Dina said her goodbyes and waved before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind her. 

Ellie sat with her thoughts for a moment before getting up to walk to the kitchen. She grabs a mug from the cabinets, one decorated with a red-winged blackbird on one side and a sandhill crane on the other. After she nearly fills it to the brim with whiskey, she begins drinking it impatiently as she makes her way into her bedroom. 

She places her now half-empty mug on her bedside table before plopping down onto her bed. Not bothering to remove her dirty Converse, she stares up at the prickly, white ceiling. 

Abby Anderson? Why her? 

Her tattooed arm was positioned above her forehead while the other laid on her side, her old, trusty switchblade suddenly in her hand. She starts playing with it mindlessly as thoughts of you swim inside her head. 

When the fuck did she start seeing her again? She didn’t even like Anderson that much… 

Ellie’s mind was a battlefield. She begins recalling memories of you when you’d talk about Abby Anderson, trying to discern the level of attraction you had for her from the bashful looks on your face and the dreaminess in your voice. At the same time, she was trying to push away her own emotion from those memories: the forced smile she’d give you when you brought Anderson up, the way she bit her tongue from unleashing nasty, sarcastic retorts about her, the seething rage she felt as she stormed away from you the first night she dropped you off at Anderson’s dorm. 

She didn’t even… She only slept with her once…  

Ellie thinks about that evening, when she watched you getting ready. She tried desperately to shut out the images of your tender eyes begging for her approval, your messy hair cascading down as you’d taken it out of its bun, every curve of your body that she was allowed a glimpse of when she’d helped you dress, your lips…

Anderson was just some fucking hook-up, I know she was… 

Ellie remembers miserably how she waited until you’d completely turned away to watch how mesmerizing you looked as you ascended the steps to Anderson’s dorm. Ellie remembers the disappointed look you had on your face, crest-fallen that she’d kept you at arms-length the rest of the evening. She remembers wanting desperately to call out your name, stop you from walking through the door, and claim you for herself. She remembers nearly doing so, but her courage had not moved swiftly enough. 

I fucked her hundreds more times… There’s no way Anderson is pleasing her like I did… I’m the one who knows how to… 

Ellie begins speculating on what you’ve been doing hanging around Anderson again. There’s no way that you were just friends. She sees the way Anderson swaggers when they occupy the gym together, her flirty smirk as she greets people as she walks down hallways. Ellie recognizes another lesbian player when she sees one, and she knew for a fact how popular Anderson was with other girls. And more than anything, Ellie knows how beautiful you are. She knows that anyone within five feet of you would be delusional not to want a chance. 

Anderson’s not her type… Anderson is not her fucking type… What the hell is she doing? She can do a whole lot fucking better… 

Ellie’s thoughts unravel as she wonders about what Anderson was saying that was making you laugh so much. She obsesses over the way you were touching her arm, how your fingers brushed over her muscled bicep. She torments herself about what you were letting her do to you at this very moment. 

I just… I just fucking saw her a couple of days ago… She’s single, she looked fucking single… 

Were you spending the night at her place this evening? Were you all dolled up today just to see her? Is Anderson taking you out on a date tonight or is she bringing you straight to her bedroom? Has she touched you already today? Has she kissed those cherry-flavoured lips of yours once more yet? Is she lifting your dress over your head or are you doing it for her? Is she kissing your neck as her fingers make their way down into your underwear to— 

Ellie sits up all of a sudden, yelling in frustration and hurling her switchblade across the room. She breathes heavily as she stares at her knife now fastened securely into the drywall, halfway stuck resulting from a throw a little too vigorous. 

“Fuck me.” Ellie huffs, disgruntled, not by the damaged wall, but by the jealousy smoldering within her. 

Why? 

Ellie picks up her half-empty mug of booze and chugs it. As droplets of whiskey dribble down her chin, she glances at the painted birds on her now-empty mug. 

Joel had bought it during a trip to a thrift store when she was 14 after she’d begged him to get it for her. Every time before the school year started, she’d always be sure to pack it to take with her, a piece of home. It was her favourite mug and it reminded her of her father. 

She missed him. She wished she was back home in Jackson with him right now, away from these problems. Life felt so much more simple when it was just her and Joel, just the two of them against the rest of the world. But she was no longer 14 and no longer an innocent. 

Ellie sighs. She deliberates for a moment or two. Maybe she could call Joel, tell him what was going on. He knew her best, besides Dina and Jesse. He usually steered her in the right direction, whether it was in a way she initially agreed with or not. 

In the end, Ellie decides against it. Explaining lesbianism to a well-meaning but clueless 60-something-year-old man was hard enough. Having to illustrate the current state of her love life? Ellie didn’t have the time or patience to describe to her father how lesbian situationships worked, much less what a “situationship” was. She’d give him a brain aneurysm within thirty seconds of her explanation. 

She also thinks back to the last conversation she had with Joel about you. He’d given her yet another caring but stern lecture before she headed back to campus for this school year. She knows deep down exactly how her father felt about you. Is that what she wanted to hear right now? 

Ellie lets herself fall back onto the bed, pulling her phone out of her pocket once her head hit her pillow. She swipes away yet another text from Daniela without bothering to skim it and opens up Instagram. Almost instinctively, she switches over from her main account to a separate one.  

For the first three months after you and Ellie fell out, you had her number and all her socials blocked. She hadn’t exactly tried to reach out to you during that time, but she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to lurk. She’d treated it like she was defusing a bomb: she’d delicately open up social media, hastily type in your name, only to be abruptly greeted with blank screens. She wasn’t surprised. But whether out of pure curiosity or masochism, she’d continued this routine of searching your username on different platforms just to stare at nothing for a couple of minutes. 

Ellie wasn’t sure what had suddenly prompted you to one day unblock her from everything. For a while, she waited to see if this meant anything, if you were going to reach out to her in some kind of way. But after a few days of nothing, she accepted the continued, albeit unblocked, silence. She wasn’t naive; she never expected you to come back to her. At least she could still snoop in peace. 

Though not exactly adept with social media, Ellie wasn’t stupid. When she wanted to look at your Instagram page, she did so through a fake, secret account that she’d made solely for that purpose. It felt pitiful to do so, at least at first. But she’d known you had no intention of speaking to her again, and therefore no longer needed to impress you; so she swallowed the feelings of shame and self-disgust every time. 

Switching over to a blank account with the user name “br!ck_master2013” that has 2 followers (both of which were bot profiles) and was following 0 accounts, Ellie types in your username by heart in the search bar. She scans your Instagram page for any changes. You don’t update it often; your last post is from early the previous summer and is just pictures of your family cat Clementine who had passed away. 

A purple and orange circle dances around your icon, indicating you’ve posted something on your story within the last 24 hours. She let out an agitated breath before pressing her thumb onto the mirror selfie you’d set as your profile picture. 

There are four stories: the first is from 22 hours ago and was a fan art post of a video game she knew you liked, the second is from 18 hours ago and was a picture of the mocha frappe Dina had gotten you the day prior with a caption thanking and tagging Dina, the third is from 15 hours ago of a post that read, “Don’t Want To See Trans People? Gouge Out Your Eyes” (prompting her to chuckle to herself), and the fourth is from this morning. Ellie’s breathing hitches. 

It was a selfie you’d taken in your bathroom before you left for class. You’d captioned it with “fuck mondays but at least i’m cute,” an understatement in Ellie’s eyes. She was only permitted a minute to gaze at you in person earlier today, and it was from several feet away. A picture doesn’t amount to the real thing, but at least she can fully drink you in with her ocean green eyes this time, completely at her leisure. 

You were wearing that same pretty, floral sundress, the sweater you were wearing earlier missing from your ensemble in the photograph. She doesn't recognize the dress, so she figures it must be new. Ellie thinks it looked like it was made for you, the way it fits you so perfectly. 

She then dares to stare at your face. Even after all these years, she revels in how flawlessly you were always able to have your makeup complement your appearance. It was a gift, really, how you used colours to, not create your beauty, but accentuate it. And you seemed to have gotten even better at it now. 

Ellie keeps taking in your image for what feels like a hundred years until your Instagram story closes out on her. She blinks and then sighs. 

There’s no way Anderson hasn’t made a move on her already. 

Ellie reaches underneath her bed and grabs her laptop. She knows what she was about to do pushed her even further into loser lesbian territory, but she had passed the point of caring long, long ago. She opens up her laptop and clicks on the Spotify application on her desktop. 

The window pops up to display a few recommended albums and playlists. Scrolling past her most recently listened to song (“Novacane” by Frank Ocean), she clicks on the little icon on the top right that says “Friend Activity.” A sidebar opens up to reveal icons of a handful of Ellie’s friends. And of you. 

When you’d blocked Ellie from everything, she guessed correctly that you wouldn’t think of blocking her on something as trivial as a music app. Most people in your generation didn’t really pay much attention to these stupid little details. But Ellie did. And she was thankful you didn’t. 

Ignoring what songs the rest of her friends were listening to at the moment, she looked for your icon to see what you were playing. According to the tiny grey letters next to your picture, you were listening to “decode” by some artist named Sabrina Carpenter. 

Ellie chuckles quietly. You had a rather wide variety in music taste, always having been musically inclined. But you weren’t immune to enjoying and fixating on what she would call “generic, top 40 pop straight girl music.” She’d tease you about this relentlessly, to which you would respond by turning the song up even louder and belting your heart out to it. Even though it was in the act of defying her, Ellie always noted internally what a pretty voice you had when you sang. 

She figures that this artist was your current new fixation. She grabs her spare earphones from the drawer of her bedside table, plugging them into her laptop. She clicks on the song you're still listening to and lets it play. As the song progresses, Ellie feels her heart sink. 

♫ You're good at the fallin', not the stayin' there / You're good at the givin' too much, then gettin' scared

You're good at impersonating someone who cares / And you had me for a minute there ♫

Ellie shifts her laptop to one side and rolls to the other, allowing the music to continue in her ears. 

♫ But now I wonder why / I let your confusion keep me up at night 

I'm so tired / Reread every single undertone ♫ 

Ellie sighs, hooking an arm underneath her pillow, clutching it tightly as she clenches her jaw. 

♫ There's a weight off my shoulders now that I don't chase you / Bein' myself, did that emasculate you? 

Learnin' from you that I can walk away too / And you had me for a minute too ♫

Ellie frowns, closing her eyes, allowing the song to envelop her in shame. 

♫ Now I wonder why / I let your confusion keep me up at night 

I'm so tired / Reread every single undertone and I—♫ 

“Yo, Williams—” A voice interrupts with a knock on her bedroom door. 

Ellie shoots up from her bed, earphones tearing out from her ears. 

“What?” Ellie answers, irritated. 

Jesse’s head pokes itself through the doorway. His expression turned into amusement once he saw hers of annoyance.  

“Oh, sorry, dude. Did I wake you?” 

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Ellie lies, relaxing a little and tapping the spacebar to pause the song. “What’s up?” 

Jesse scans her features further. He took a step in, leaning against the doorframe. 

“You alright?” 

“All good, dude,” She says, closing her laptop and hopping off her bed. “Was just having a bad dream.” 

Jesse considers this when his eyes wander to Ellie’s knife sticking out of the wall. 

“Bro.” He says, pointing to it. 

“It was a really bad dream, alright?” She shrugs. 

“Els,” He groans. “If we don’t get our security deposit back—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll fix it.” She says, crossing her arms. “What did you want?” 

“You got a second? Got someone here who wants to buy.” 

Ellie sighs. 

“Yeah, okay. They good?” 

“Should be.” Jesse confirms. 

“Fine.” Ellie replies, standing up straighter and rolling up the sleeves to her flannel. 

“Cool. You might have actually met him the other night.” Jesse jabs his thumb towards the living room, beckoning her to follow him. 

“The other night?” Ellie questions, trailing after. 

“Yeah, he was with us at the diner after the party.” 

“Wait, what?” 

Before Jesse can answer, Ellie’s eyes fall on who Jesse had brought into their apartment. Wearing a backwards cap, a plain navy blue t-shirt & khakis, their visitor looks like every other standard, forgettable college frat boy. 

But Ellie didn’t forget. In fact, Ellie remembers exactly who he was quite well. 

“You remember Adam?” Jesse asks.

“Man, really? Didn’t clock you as a queer.” 

“Yeah,” Ellie answers, eyes seeing red and hands balling up in fists. “Yeah, I remember you.”

author’s notes:

okay so part of why this took me so long to write and why it also took a lot of convincing on my own part to post is cause i was writing it from ellie's perspective and that was a lot harder than i thought!! didn't plan it to be this way tbh but that's what flowed and well, here it is!

i hope all the college descriptions i’ve been writing have been realistic enough! i had a messy collegiate experience myself and i ended up dropping out after a few years, so i’m just trying to write from experiences from so many years ago (i legit researched what kind of classes aspiring astronauts need to take cause we know our girl wants to go up in space).

the birds on ellie's mug are just references to a couple of my gf's favourite birds (she's an avid bird watcher and she loves birds hehe)!

also idk why i know ellie's a whiskey drinker, but god i just know she is. what butch lesbian is not a whiskey drinker (just from personal experience, don't kill me).

you get a gold star if you got that "brick master" reference ♡︎

i also don't know why i know ellie would listen to frank ocean, but god her loser ass would be LISTENINGGGG to frank ocean. thank you also to everyone for bearing with me and my current sabrina carpenter phase rn ♡︎

does anyone else still look at their friends activity on spotify or is that just me. i love seeing what my friends are up to! i use the airbuds app too, i feel so involved. yeah, that is a pic of me from many years ago as reader's tiny little icon the spotify pic, that's the most y'all get as a pic of me rn sdklfjsd

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @qtefolleunpez, @libr4sonsa, @17luv, @robinismywifee, @villainousbear, @ashlynnnnnnnn15, @scarlettadore, @vianna99, @g0n3girls, @totheblood, @embermdk, @awyunh, @kenz-ee, @marvelwomen-simp

[caxyanalysis]

Thinking about how Homelander is actually so fucking tragic.

Raised to be the symbol of patriotism. Won the superpower lottery. Durable enough that a nuclear bomb wouldn't kill him, fast enough that nothing can outpace him, full freedom from gravity because of flight, laser vision that he can control the strength of to such a fine degree that he could cook popcorn or cauterize your brain in half and it's not even hard for him to do.

All of this, together, make him a god among men.

And it's so.

Fucking.

Boring.

And it's tragic, too.

It is.

I know, I know, "he's a fascist!!!" I get it, and you're right.

But look at what he's been through.

He was raised in a lab. No parents besides the scientists that studied him to figure out what he could and couldn't survive, what would and wouldn't hurt him, what he was capable of and how he could be useful.

At every turn, he was denied human connection in any meaningful way. His father was never in the picture, his mother was dead, he existed solely as a test subject, and as soon as he was old enough to be on TV, they wheeled him out like a shiny new toy and said "Look! It's the embodiment of America! The peak of human evolution!"

He has never, EVER known anything except two concepts: Fear and Blind Adoration.

The people who love him don't love HIM, they love the idea he represents. The people who know him fear him with all they have.

Spoilers for The Boys below

He finally meets someone who doesn't fear him, and claims to love him, and it's Stillwell. She doesn't fear him. But he doesn't realize the reason she doesn't fear him is because she thinks she has him under control. A little mommy-play here, a little milk there, and he's docile. She thinks she has him in her pocket.

But then she slips up. And out comes the truth. She's never loved him. Ever. She has always, always hated him, always been afraid of him. And suddenly all those happy memories of the only mother-figure he's ever known are tainted, ruined by the idea that she would have rather had him be dead than ever touch her, but she did what she felt she had to do so he would be a good boy.

And he doesn't understand. He was a good boy, wasn't he? His heart was in the right place, wasn't it? He only did what he thought would make her happy, and he tried to be have his best when she asked, didn't he? So why did she hate him so much? Why was she so afraid of him?

And it tears him up inside. It destroys him. He feels hurt, and angry, and scared, and it burns him up until that heat has nowhere to go but out.

And he kills her. And it kills him.

It's with Stillwell's death we see him truly change. He stops being the boy scout, in his own eyes. He just killed someone who meant everything to him. He killed someone he thought genuinely cared about him, saw him as good, and loved.

We watch him die right alongside her, and in that moment he performs one last act of kindness as he loses the final shred of hope in his heart: he saves Billy Butcher and makes sure that Stillwell's baby survives as well.

We see another kick in the head when he visits his "creator", the man in charge of the Homelander experiment that gave birth to him. And this man says he is nothing but a failure. A living embodiment of all that man did wrong, and all that man failed to achieve. He says that Homelander is nothing but one big failed experiment, and is his greatest regret in life.

Flash ahead. He's unchained, mostly. Edgar is still in control of him, but Edgar doesn't care enough to tug the leash. He expects Homelander to tie his own chain, and if he doesn't, then Edgar will yank it and choke the bastard for all he's worth until he sits, heels, like a good little attack dog.

And for the most part this works. Homelander stays under Edgar's radar, his descent hardly noticed, because he doesn't do anything that Vaught can track that he wouldn't have done before Stillwell's death.

All the while, mourning the loss of the only person to ever even pretend to care about him.

And then we meet Ryan, and realize who he is.

And when Homelander learns he has a son, we see something special, something that, until now, didn't seem possible.

We see the light come back into his eyes.

We see him start to hope again.

A son. The perfect opportunity to do better, to prove he is, in fact, a good man. If he can just do right by Ryan, if he can raise him right, be a good dad to him, show him the love, and compassion, and care that he never knew, then Ryan could grow up happy. Well-adjusted. We see that Homelander fully recognizes how broken and mangled a man he is.

Homelander wants Ryan to turn out better than him. He wants Ryan to turn out happier than him.

And we watch Stormfront ruin that pure, beautiful desire.

Stormfront corrupts him. He's vulnerable, he's weak-minded, after Stillwell. He knows what he wants, but he doesn't know how to do it or why, he knows what he desires, but he can't have it. And then Stormfront gives it to him. A supe who can not only take what he can dish out, but give it back just as well. A supe who sees him as good. A supe who seems to love him, truly.

She doesn't.

She, like all of his fans, loves WHAT he is, loves the IDEA of him, not Homelander himself.

He's blond, blue-eyed, white, and an omnipotent powerhouse.

And Stormfront is a nazi. How could she not love what he is and what he represents?

She manipulates him, turns him against his own idea of wanting to be good and convinces him that this brattiness, this pettiness, this immature need to be better than everyone is not a flaw, it's his birthright.

And Ryan is the product of that birthright. Ryan does not need to be better than Homelander, Ryan needs to learn from Homelander, learn to rule, to subjugate, because Homelander is a God, one who should rule the Earth, and Ryan is his Prince, destined to take over one day.

All of this is instilled into Homelander through Stormfront's manipulations. And on the one day every year that he's allowed to be treated like a person, the one day every year he gets a taste of humanity...

She does the one thing that would guarantee her lies stick like glue.

She dies.

She rips away the last person he ever thought he would have to live without, on the one day he never expected to be hurt on.

And we see that light, the one Ryan reignited, flicker.

He gets angry. He gets bitter. He realizes that, aside from Ryan, he is entirely peerless. Alone.

And Ryan must be nurtured, yes? Guided, right? Stormfront wanted the world for Ryan, and Homelander wants the best for his son, and so the world is exactly what Ryan will get. Homelander no longer cares about himself. He doesn't.

Homelander cannot be selfish past this point; he could drop dead then and there and as long as Ryan has the world in his palm, Homelander would die happy.

But he can't die. He won't die. Ryan needs him. Ryan deserves a father. Ryan deserves Homelander's life, his attention, his dedication.

And we see spots of vanity, yes. The preening, the pruning of grey hairs, the bitterness over his noticeable aging.

But these are not the same as selfishness. These are things integral to Homelander. He's supposed to be a God. God's don't age, why is he aging? It's so disgustingly human. That's what he thinks.

But it gives him a sense of urgency. He doesn't know how long he has. A year? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Two hundred? More? Nobody knows, with supes. Some don't age at all, others age too fast, others age slowly, and Homelander is already a one-in-a-million fluke. Who's to say he won't suddenly age fifty years in the span of the next ten? Who's to say he'll ever age beyond what he is now?

He doesn't know. And he can't control it. He can't fight it. He can't change it. He has to prepare for the possibility he hates most.

He has to prepare for his death.

But then he learns who his father is. He learns that his father is alive, even. Soldier Boy, the idea that inspired Homelander. And he has to meet the man, has to introduce Ryan to his grandfather. We see that light in his eyes grow, because now he doesn't just have a son, he has a father.

The father he needed.

And when he finally meets him, finally gets face-to-face with the man who could so easily give him everything he ever wanted, the man who could fix him, show him what it means to be a parent...

He's rejected.

Soldier Boy tells him that he's pathetic, that he's nothing, that he's hardly even a man. Even the suit Homelander is so proud of isn't free from insult, with Soldier Boy saying "Look at you...You're wearing a goddamn cape..."

He has nothing but disappointment for what Homelander is, and resentment for the way Homelander was raised, but sees him as too far gone, too broken, too weak to fix. The only cure is death.

And once again, we see that light flicker.

He needs to be better than this man, DO better than this man.

And that means securing Ryan's place atop the world. This is why he calls in Sister Sage. Sister Sage is so incredibly intelligent, so beautifully smart, she can guarantee things he would never even figure out are possible. And, begrudgingly, he accepts her help.

But her help isn't giving him what he really wants most, because while putting Ryan atop the pyramid is his end goal, he wants Ryan's love just as badly. He wants to see the fruits of his efforts, to know that what he's doing is good and right, that it's best for Ryan.

And Ryan is showing him, at every turn, that it's not right.

Homelander kills for Ryan, and Ryan doesn't like it.

Homelander makes Ryan the object of public adoration, and Ryan doesn't like it.

Homelander is glad Billy's dying, and Ryan doesn't like it.

Everything Homelander does for Ryan, every effort he makes, is torn apart by the fact that Ryan doesn't want any of it. He wants a dad, not a coach, he wants a parent, not an instructor.

He wants a life, not godhood.

And Homelander has been so corrupted, so broken, so destroyed by every single person in his life that he cannot understand that.

To him, godhood and life are one and the same. Being alive is not a right, in his eyes, it is something that is deserved, earned, a reward, and he is the man to impress, he is the man to earn it from, and one day that man will be Ryan, and why can't Ryan see any of that?

None of this is in defense of Homelander. But I can't see one side of anything without seeing every other side of it.

And in Homelander's mind, he has done everything he can to be loved, to be appreciated, to be known and cared about...

And every single time, his power has caused people to hate him, to fear him. The only love he's ever known is that of the public and that of his son, and with every outburst, every conflict of interests, he is slowly losing that more and more.

And every time Ryan runs away from him, every time Ryan cries because of him, every time Ryan frowns over something Homelander has done, every human Ryan mourns, is a slap in the face. Water on the fire.

And we see that light drain from his eyes a little more each time.

I don't believe anything Homelander has done is justified.

But I do believe that, in his shoes, with his life, under all of the same circumstances...

I believe most of us would be no different than he is.

Broken.

Betrayed.

Abused.

Lashing out at every reminder of the pains of our existence.

A scared, angry child, with the power of a god, who was never shown that a better way does exist.

A wounded animal conditioned from birth to hate humans for what they did to it.

Homelander is tragic.

And I feel so very sorry for him.

[theanonymousfoxsimp]

First encounter,certian wouldn't be the last.

Sebastian x gn! Reader.

Blood,gore,reader dies but somehow lives

(FYI this is the beginning of my "wild pressure au" ,in this au literally every variant of angler has a sebastian like form. With all credits to this wonderful artist on Twitter that I linked,go check her out. My oc is in here too ,needed to write more of her. No it is not immediate sebastian x reader content I want to slowly get to that

https://x.com/pepurroni?t=MA8a1GDibBFtFKqe2A-n8Q&s=09

Treaking through the bleak halls and the winding corridors, the sounds of cameras whirring up then shutting down as a certain A.I. would watch you. It all seemed a bit too much to take in. The other 'expendables,' as they called it, had already been picked off one by one. The numerous creatures that roamed the halls were deadly enough on their own. Your best friend who had apparently been captured by urbanshade many years ago was the first to go, unfortunately. The close call with a certian pink screaming creature left your ears ringing as she whizzed by. The sickening crunch as your friends body fell down to the ground,her eyes and face scrunched up as if she were saying something that was caught up in her death. It was quite ironic,she had been drilling It into your head that focus is needed to survive here yet her own distraction seemed to be her end. The laughter that echoed from the pink beast was sickening as you could hear the crunch,the wet gurgle of blood as she feasted on whatever remnants she had of your best friend.

The next encounter had been a bit further down. You and the remaining six were looting in an underwater section when the angler came through. The roars of triump heard from him when the angler had successfully grasped one of the heftier men, then dragged him further into the open abyss. None of you had heard the signs,the lights didn't flicker either because of the broken wiring and the giant hole in the wall next to you. The water was left with red clouds of blood, but all you could do was move on as the others pushed further and further. The 'leader', as she called it, donned a strange red clown swim suit that squeaked every time she stepped. Her head had donned a pair of horns,similar to Jacob's ram, her face covered by a mask that funnily enough,also said the word 'face' on it. She barely spoke aside from yelling at you in particular whenever angler would come through. She even made sure there was a locker open,her own life spared by the weird spots she finds herself hiding in,crouching against the table seemed to shield her from the squinty eyed angler.

"Look -" the 'leader' spoke, her tone monotone as she stepped towards you. The three others going to search for the keycard for the next room as the woman dragged you closer into the safe room.

"We are coming up to sebastian,do NOT under any circumstances, flash him,okay? You will die-" she spoke,your voice butting in.

"Flash him as in...?" You asked.

The woman paused,her body going stock still as she began to process what you just asked. The sudden appearance of her belt flicking to life before slapping you across the face-though the belt wasn't actually one, but a blue arrow tipped tail that whipped behind her. The stinging sensation that came with it was barely there,she didn't hit to hurt but just to knock some sense into you.

"DO NOT-oh my god, the fact I even have to do this is so disappointing." She spoke for a second, pulling off a particular device from her belt. At first glance, it looked like a weird scanning gun until she pointed the nose right at another unexepnding crew member. She whistled at him,making sure she was being looked at before she pulled the trigger. A sudden bright flash lighting up the room before going dark,the pained moans heard from the expendable as the sudden blindness overtook him. You looked over at her, giving her a look before she crossed her arms,simply huffing as she grabbed the keycard from his hand to open the door. You wondered if it was really necessary to do that but pushed on.

Honestly, there wasn't much you could do as you stepped over the man. He was extremely bulky and wouldn't be easy to carry, then survive any angler encounters. The door opens with a rhythmic beeping as the sound of the A.I's voice is heard. Grumbling about how they were no fun before disappearing back into his database. Your mind raced with questions,much more going unanswered than answered, but hopefully, this 'sebastian' fellow would have some answers.

Door after door,it was a closer encounter every single time. The man that had been flashed-he died a few rooms before this one. The screams of an angler she called blitz had come through before he could react,slicing his head clean off before pulling him back to feast. The leader had been the quickest to react,pulling you and your remaining companion into a dark hiding spot a minute before blitz came through. The other expendable seemed a bit agitated,determined to push on until blitz tore through a second time, yanking her from the woman's grasp. The screams that were heard,growing more and more muffled as blitz traveled away.

It just left you two,the woman barely speaking as she pulled you further into other rooms. A pair of mimic doors were there, you weren't wise enough to know that you needed to listen carefully before opening it as you neared the false door. The gargled roar was all you heard before a pair a claws ripped through your side,three large gashes formed as blood began to pool on the ground. The A.I's mocking voice buzzed to life,laughing at how you had failed to pick the right door.

"God damnit-" was heard from the woman, she peered up-seeing the number fifty on the doors you both were at. She was a bit smaller ,her arms heaving your bleeding body onto her back like a piggyback ride. The next two doors went by quiet until a vent popped open in the third, a male voice urging you both to come in as she neared the vent. There wasn't an easy way to carry you in,so you were forced to crawl through the vent, pain stinging your sides as blood dripped onto the metal.

"Ah! Welcome!" The male voice-now louder had spoken.

The room was large, a radio beeping with what sounded like Morse code. The keycard you both needed sat on the table next to it-and the most appalling of it all was the giant creature that rested casually next to you both. His hands clasped together while a third would wave around or fiddled with the hem of his shirt. The woman-now visibly more relaxed,had taken a seat in front of the boxes next to the vent opening. She wasn't close to the creature,giving him his personal space.

"Let me make this quick. My name is sebastian, and I'm one of your only friends here at urbanshade. The men up above told you to bring back as much research, yes? Well..if you need any supplies,I'd be willing to part with it if you were willing to give me some of that precious research you have" he smiled,a large toothy grin that morphed into a small smile.

"I have plenty." The sight of everything was too appealing not to buy, the defeated sounds coming from the woman as her research was also thrown into the bunch, but she didn't protest. The medkit did wonders to help your wounds as various bandages and numbing medicines were in it, the bleeding soon halting itself. The fishy man more than happy to part ways with all of his wares as he eagerly grabbed your bag. Almost too rough as he began to count it, watching you carefully.

"Sebastian, they won't bite," the woman laughed,standing up to hand a bright purple flash drive to him. Sebastian, in return, produced a purple bag from somewhere. The term 'taki's' on the bag, the woman yelling out something before she retreated to a further corner,turning away from the both of you to move her mask,consuming the stick chips with such a speed it should alarm you. Sebastian only recoiled,grunting with disgust since he would have to clean up the mess she wasn't making.

"You still have some leftover research expendable," the fishy man said. The angler bulb on his head flickered into life before dimming,his-ear fins? Whatever they were ,wiggled while he spoke. It was adorable, the little nervous ticks you saw as he would watch,waiting for your answer. It took you a second to say anything,formulating a response. The woman,happily finishing her bag of takis before she beconed you to follow her out,blue keycard in her hand. Sebastian had blocked the vent when she left,his tail in the way as he silently observed you for the moment. His body moved until his face was inches above yours, his blue eyes almost glowing as the pools of blue stared. His hands came up to grasp at your body,curiosity getting the best to him as he began to flip you every which way. A folder and pen in his free hands,writing down the notes he took of you.

"See you again soon," he said,almost a bit too eager before he dropped you,climbing up to dissappear into the ceiling. His tail uncovered the vent so you could escape,making it further to where the woman was before a buzzing sound was heard,red hot static was all you could feel. The woman seemed to be on edge now,practically hugging the lockers as she passed them. The lights flickered so fast before turning red, static heard becoming louder and louder until the woman dipped into a locker. Leaving you behind to the wonders of the man's voice nearing,the southern drawl yelling for you to 'run!'. The woman took too long to get to a locker,abandoning her own for your safety before the creature yanked her up into the air with a thick fist. His left hand held an axe,he was taking far too long with this-your heartbeat and the non-existent air forcing you out of the locker.

Red static filled your vision, crimson smoke coming from the man's mouth as he spoke. The woman had played dead,her body going limp as the southern creature stayed put. Shaking her body like a limp ragdoll before she was dropped to the ground, the creature solely focused on you now as the axe that was on his belt suddenly went to his hand.

"Ashamed really,had more hopes for yer buddy here,next time think fast!" The axe was thrown,closing the distance between you both,embedding itself into your chest. It's like you couldn't feel it,arms splayed out,mouth agape as if you were going to ask him something. Blood and the taste of metal filled your mouth,pouring out of your nose and any other opening as your weakened body fell to the ground. Creature seemed pleased with himself, slipping over to grasp your ankle and began to drag your dying corpse along the floor. A trail of blood was all you could see,your hands grasped weakly at whatever you passed. Soon your vision went dark as the sickening sadistic laughter echoed through the room.

Oddly enough,after some time,you began to awaken. The creature-better known as a_60 by most had dragged you back towards where sebastian was. The two of them were in the middle of exchanging your items when your eyes began to open. The form of the masked woman being seen as she passed your body,taking a seat next to both of the creatures. Kicking her feat out, the mask had been moved to reveal just her mouth as she feasted on what looked to be your hand. Nothing could prepare you for the betrayal you felt as the woman slowly turned to you,sadistic smile. She went to grasp a knife before sebastian yanked it away,wagging his fingers as if disciplining a child while a_60 neared your nearly lifeless corpse. Axe in hand,nobody spoke as he went to finish the job, darkness finally taking you in as the cold embrace of death-oh my god.

The light of sebastians bulb flickered to life,your eyes adjusting to the sudden light as he slammed down two files in front of you on a table. One labeled "multi-monster," the other labeled "the traitor,". He opened both for you, a pitied look on his face as he stared down at you.

"Those two are a tricky pair, I'm surprised she didn't kill you or throw you to the anglers before coming to me, but I did get plenty of research. Until nest time little expendable, " he laughed,shoving you back into a hole in the floor,dropping you right in front of the submarine that would take you back. Two others had been waiting,giving you a knowing look as you entered the submarine. The machine whirring to life when a button was pressed by one of the men,the door closed before the group began to ascend up to the surface.

"So...traitor get you?" The woman next to you asked, "I heard a_60 come through too. That was not supposed to happen on your first go. He rarley ever shows up as is,the traitor was a rare sight to see, too. This is why you ALWAYS count your group members before leaving. If you have an extra, you need to filter out the foe,never take the chance," the lady spoke. Her animal ear flicked when she spoke again, " If they look different, then don't trust them-well,maybe try to learn their names,with how everyone looks-its difficult to filter them out but you need to pay attention regardless. Everything wants to eat you down here" she spoke.

The group fell silent,the intercom blaring to life as a voice began to debrief you three. The voice also mentioned how failure will not be taken lightly ,the punishments that awaited you almost made you wish you were back down with those foul creatures.

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick walks down the long hall of the temple, past the lit braziers and litany of offerings.  The temple has proven a popular one in the last few days.

Of course it has.  They're preparing for war.

Dick has prayed at several temples over the fortnight.  Wisdom, to find a path out of this mess.  The Earth Mother, to ask for his family's safe return.  The Protector, the sun god himself, to safeguard Dick's home.  He has left rich offerings and offered vast riches.  He has promised everything he has to give.

And all he has received is silence.

The gods do not heed his prayers.  Tim is gone, lost on a quest from the deceitful Shadow King to find Bruce and return him to the land of the living.  Jason is likewise away, too busy being a vengeful avatar of Death to care about Gotham.  Gotham's defenses consist of Dick, the precocious ten-year-old halfblood Talia dropped off without so much as a by-your-leave, and Alfred.

The fight will be a slaughter.  Too few generals, too few fighting men.  The only thing that can help them is the intercession of the gods and there is only one god left to try.

Dick takes a deep breath and kneels at the altar.  The knife he draws isn't his flashiest or his oldest.  But its hilt matches the color of his eyes.

Dick knows this, because that was what the god whispered when he curled Dick's fingers around it.

The slice of his skin is the barest line of fire.  The blood drips onto the altar.  One.  Two.  Three.

"I pray to the God of War.  Heed my call."

The silence continues, only broken by the soft plink of blood meeting steel.  Dick stays on his knees and doesn't fidget.  He has all night.

War begins on the morrow.

"I pray to the God of War.  Heed my call."

~#~

He doesn’t know if it’s the hundredth or the thousandth time he says it when he finally gets a response.

"Hello, little bird."

A large part of Dick relaxes at the slow drawl.  Everything else tenses.

"My lord," Dick says formally, drawing his hand back and clenching it to halt further bleeding.  Deathstroke steps out from his altar, smirk already in place as he beholds Dick.  "I pray for your assistance."

"I'm listening."  Deathstroke steps around Dick, heavy boots treading on marble, circling Dick like wounded prey.

"There is an army at Gotham's borders.  Tomorrow we ride to war."

"I'm aware."  Deathstroke smiles, a bloodthirsty, wicked thing.

"I--I beseech you, my lord, to favor Gotham on the battlefield.  I know we are the weaker side--we have less men, and the terrain, and the supplies--we will never last a siege--"

Deathstroke cuts off his babbling with a frown.  For all the time Dick spent entreating the gods, he hasn't thought much about what to say when one finally listens.

Dick waits as Deathstroke completes his turn and stands before him once more.  In the shadow of the altar, he looks like nothing more than a man--dressed for combat, broadsword strapped to his back, dark eyepatch hiding the damage even a god couldn't heal.  The other icy blue eye stares down at Dick with the searing intensity of a thousand suns.

In the shadow of his altar, he looks like a god.

"Why?" Deathstroke asks curiously.  "Why should I favor you?"

There is a hint of poison in the tone.  Dick refused Deathstroke's offer to be his champion once, when Dick was still a child, and gods do not forget.  Gods do not forgive.

"I will give you anything," Dick says, painfully honest now that he has everything to lose.  "Anything that is mine to give."

Deathstroke's eye flashes.  "A tempting offer, little bird," he rumbles.

"It is yours.  Entirely yours, so long as you help."

Deathstroke reaches out and Dick stays where he is.  Lets the god trace the lines of his face with fingers that feel molten.  Hardly dares to breathe.

"Very well, little bird.  We have a deal."

The clasp of hands feels like shackles around Dick's wrists.  He breathes in and out and keeps the god's stare.

He doesn't let himself think about what he agreed to.  Tomorrow is war.  The consequences come after.

~#~

"Where have you been?" Damian accosts him the moment he enters the manor.  "We practically tore the walls apart looking for you--"

"I was praying," Dick says, heading straight for his room and his armor.  "For victory in today's battle."

Damian puffs up.  It's almost adorable, if Dick wasn't focused on buckling everything in place.  "You are very nearly late for that same battle--"

"I am here now," Dick says shortly, strapping on his sword.  "Enough.  Are you prepared?"

"I still insist I am better utilized with you, in the vanguard--"

"No."  In the case that Bruce does return, Dick will not be the one to tell him that he got his ten-year-old killed.  "You will stay and defend the manor in case of an incursion."  It is a way to keep the kid out of the fighting and he knows it.  "Do you understand?"

Damian makes a face.  "Yes," he grumbles.

Dick does not trust him, but he doesn't have the time.  Dawn's first light is breaking and the battle will begin soon.  He has no way to know what shape or form Deathstroke's assistance will take.  He will not sit around and wait for it.

He has begged long enough.  The time has come to fight.

Gotham's forces array out, facing those of neighboring Metropolis.  Someone is whispering in Luthor's ear, someone enticed him to attack.  Someone is keeping the other gods at bay.  The deck is already stacked against Dick.

The first charge begins.  Dick motions for his forces to stay steady and let the archers answer.  A hail of arrows arc over the battlefield.

A wind blows strong enough to sweep them all aside.

Interference.  Dick wants to close his eyes and weep.  Unfortunately, he does not have that luxury.

He grimly motions for the attack.

The clash of two armies is a terrible thing.  The noise of a hundred blades striking each other, the squelch of blood spraying free, the cries and shouts and screams of killers and the killed.  Dick hates it and yet he rides to it.  There is no other way.

Right before the armies meet, there is an unfurling in the middle, a man straightening like he was always there.  And maybe he was.

Deathstroke turns unerringly towards Dick, meeting his gaze despite the lengths that separate them, and unsheathes his sword to point it straight at Dick in salute.

He's smiling.  It is a terrifying thing.

And then he turns and attacks.

The armies meet as the God of War scythes his way through Dick's enemies, blood splattering and steel ringing, and sunlight flashing off that enormous sword that Deathstroke wields one-handed like it weighs as much as a feather.

Dick cannot look away.

There is nothing in the world more alluring than the sight of a god in their element.

Nothing more dangerous either.

~#~

In the end, it doesn't matter who whispers in Luthor's ear or snatches arrows from the sky.  Nothing in the world, mortal or not, is strong enough to defeat the God of War on a battlefield.

Gotham wins handily.  People cheer on the streets, soldiers clutch each other and weep, and the injured outnumber the dead.  An occasion to celebrate.

Dick finishes the letter he is writing and carefully presses it shut.  Ties it and leaves it on his desk.  They will find it easily enough when they search for him.  He has kept it vague, only commanding them not to look for him.  He is not lost.

Dick made this choice willingly.  Now he has to pay the price.

He slips from the manor, ducking past festive crowds and out of the way of laughter and celebration.  He clings to the memory of the relief on Damian's face when Dick returned.  Alfred's quiet joy.

The determination on Tim's face when he left.  The burning green fire in Jason's, utterly alien but at least alive.  The implacable strength of Bruce, a mountain Dick has never been able to match.

Dick hoped that whatever Deathstroke asked for, he could stand to lose.  Something minor, a quest perhaps, nothing that would steal him from his family.  At the very worst, the binding Dick refused once.  Being War's champion would severely curtail Dick's freedom, but he would still be able to visit home.

But Deathstroke didn't bless their swords to strike true or their arrows to hit their targets.  He didn't shift battlefield currents to their favor or tilt luck on their side.  He showed up to fight and slaughtered his way through a good portion of the enemy.

For that much destruction, there can be only one price.

The temple is empty, though offerings fill it from end to end.  Dick steps past them all, to the very end of the hall and the altar looming above him.  The last offering.

His arm trembles as he stretches it out.  But the blade slices cleanly, carving a line up his forearm, blood spilling far faster than before.  He switches the grip, the blade jerky in his bleeding hand, and manages a shaky slice up the other forearm.  The knife goes clattering against the altar.  Dick breathes raggedly and squeezes his eyes against the tears.

It's the pain, that's all.  Nothing more.

When he opens them, Deathstroke is right in front of him.  Dick doesn't flinch, even when Deathstroke grabs his bleeding arms.

"What is this?" the god hisses, one eye burning furiously.  It feels curiously distant though.  Possibly because the world is blurring out.

"The price," Dick reminds him with a tongue that feels too big.  "You helped.  I have to pay."

He can almost feel Jason's shock, can see his little brother turning towards him from far, far away.  He wonders if Jay can visit him in the Underworld.

"Foolish little bird," he hears Deathstroke sigh somewhere above him.  The burning in his arms changes to burning, sharp, fiery pain racing along the cut and making him scream.  "Only life can pay for death."

[radioactive-reactions]

Just a quick little idea for a reaction, could you maybe do companions (and maybe Mr. House) finding out that the Courier is a pre-war ghoul?

Of course! The New Vegas fandom has just celebrated Mr. House's 4th birthday, so consider this my small contribution.

Ghouls were anything but uncommon in the Mojave, but those who had lived through the Great War were particularly exceptional. Everyone knew about the ghoulish Courier - zombies rising from the grave made good saloon talk, after all - but only those closest to them were trusted with the knowledge of just how old they were.

Raul is just happy to have another viejo around to commiserate with. Invariably, he begins to keep the two up long into the night trading stories of the Old World - and more often than not, the Old World's failings - around the campfire. "Hey, boss, you... you remember Cuna de Lobos? Ahh, the bomb dropped right at the end of Season 91, just when Catalina was about to show everyone what she'd been keeping stashed under her eyepatch. My grandmother would have killed to see it. She could have, too."

Boone is as unflinchingly stone-faced as ever, and his thoughts are quickly summed up in three succinct words: "I pity you." There's a moment of consideration, a realization that he may have gone too far, and he tries again. "You and all the... others. There are a few in the service. You knew what came before. Saw it with your own eyes. Christ, the rest of us must be like kids playing dressup to you. In your shoes, wouldn't have bothered staying around to see how it'd all turn out. No point."

Veronica has a million questions. Try as the Brotherhood might to hoard pre-War knowledge, she's never come quite as close to a living, breathing repository of it as she is now. "Wait, wait, back up, like... five steps. You're telling me you could walk into the bunker anytime you please and totally school Elder McNamara and you've just been sitting on that?! Oh my God! Okay, okay - is it true that every kid back then was raised by a robot slave? A-and did you really have to ritually encase all your food in Jell-O before you ate it?"

Cass gives an impressed whistle, looking the Courier up and down just to make sure they haven't actually been feral this entire time. "Fuck me. Uh, that's not an invitation - I don't want anything falling off. But that'd make you, what, two-hundred-something? Older than the Republic, the way they tell it. We've got some Rangers like that, supposedly the ultimate badasses if you look past the bad knees and the death rattle... but between you and me, I think you've got a sturdier claim to the title."

Arcade freezes up at the news, getting that awkward, wavering smile he always flashes when he's backed into a corner. "Wow. Uh... hey. Just so we're clear, I in no way endorse - o-or endorsed - the whole Enclave 'cleansing of the world's tainted' thing. I'd like to think that goes without saying, given the way my life has gone since then, but... just so we're clear. Uh, if you need any kind of specialized care, please just say the word. I've given Beatrix enough topical collagen to fill a bathtub... if one inexplicably wanted to do something like that."

Lily doesn't quite seem to get it, bless her heart, but enough careful explanation does slowly get her to regard the Courier as more of an equal than a grandkid. "MY MISTAKE! YOU DON'T LOOK A DAY OVER A HUNDRED, DEAR. WHATEVER YOU USE, I'VE JUST GOT TO GET DOCTOR HENRY TO MAKE ME SOME! IF I HADN'T MADE A PROMISE TO MY HUSBAND, REST HIS SOUL, I COULD JUST EAT YOU UP."

Mr. House predictably uses this as ammunition to further his own plans. There's no change in the face on the flickering screen, but whatever cold mental calculus drives him moves the Courier up a few spaces in his strictly regimented list of priorities. "Then you, more than anybody, understand what we have to lose - or rather, what we have to gain. Put another way, you are in a unique position to understand the resources at my disposal. Imagine the luxuries you enjoyed before the barbarians in Washington reduced you to this base, hardscrabble existence among the ruins of their shortsightedness - and I think you'll appreciate that ruins isn't simply a turn of phrase here. Imagine having them again: not just the house and the car, not just the material indulgences, but the structure that made them possible - will continue to make them possible. We alone know what's been lost, and we alone hold the potential to see it returned."

[lokismischievousmusings-fanfic]

Ok… do you all remember when I said I was working on a Detective Loki AU where he’s hunting a serial killer? Well here’s the introduction!! Please let me know if you like it!!

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mention of murder, death, crime, cause of death. (Nothing gory and no details)

Characters: Loki, other OCs.

Summary: After living for some time on Midgard, Loki takes a liking to the small city he’s been banished to. Seeing the darkness of humanity day after day for almost a century has Loki feeling like he could make a difference. He joins the local detectives to solve the city’s violent crimes and comes face to face with his first serial killer.

Snakes and Daggers

The shrill ringing of his cellphone cut through the silence in Loki’s flat like a knife through butter. He grumbled turning over and grabbing the phone and answering it with a grumpy growl “This better be important.”

A moment of silence on the other end and then the voice of his partner “I think homicide is pretty important but what do I know?” Detective Fowler replies sharply. “Ah, hello Ethan, do you have more information for me or….?” Loki sits up and runs his long fingers through his messy onyx curls. “Yeah, we have a body, I’ll text you the address, get your ass down here” Fowler snapped back. “So grumpy Ethan, I’ll meet you there soon” Loki teased him before hanging up.

—•—•—•—

Loki arrived at the scene, officers and crime scene technicians bustled about. Camera shutters clicked, baggies rustled and Fowler barked orders that hung in the air with the fog of his breath. Fowler was young but he was no rookie, he had reddish brown hair and blue eyes with soft untouched skin to match. Ethan Fowler barely drank, didn’t smoke, ate healthy and dressed well. “Everyone relax, I’m here now” Loki joked as he ducked under the crime scene tape and approached Fowler “So what do we have?” he asked.

Fowler sighed deeply and his glance flashed to the right of them. “Young female, deceased. A man was walking his dog and it pulled him off the trail and straight up to the body” he describes solemnly. “How young Fowler?” Loki presses further. “Maybe 19 or 20, college age” Fowler answers. “Shit! This fucker is escalating. This is the third body this week” Loki growls deeply.

Then grass and gravel crunch lightly under their feet as Loki follows his partner down to the location. The scene was all too familiar for Loki now, an innocent young girl lying nude in the twigs and mud, dumped like trash. Loki squats down near the body “I’m sorry darling, I’m going to catch this asshole, I promise” he says quietly. “Why do you talk to them?” Fowler asks inquisitively. Loki straightens and faces his partner, hands in his pockets. “What do you mean?” he tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “I’ve been your partner for a while now, I’ve noticed you talk to the decea- to the victims, why?” Loki searched Ethan’s face for any sign of mockery but none could be found. “Because they can hear me, I am a god after all, even if I’m not their god” Loki explains as he takes his notepad out of his blazer pocket and flips it open. “Yeah that’s the other thing, what is a god doing on earth working as a homicide detective in this shit city?” Fowler laughs as he asks that question following Loki back towards the body. “Well originally I came here to hide from retribution for my so called crimes on Asgard. While I was here I saw so much of this violence and hatred you all have towards each other, innocent people being slaughtered by people they loved or trusted. After that I learned that many of these crimes as you call them, they go unsolved and well that really upset me. I have a gift with my siedr and I realized I could use it for good, to help with this, so here I am” Loki continued examining the body, at one point even taking a camera from tech and snapping his own photos. “Hmm, interesting reason” Fowler shrugs and snaps a pair of gloves on.

Loki looks up at Fowler, almost through his lashes at this angle “So are you going to interrogate me some more or actually work on solving this crime?” he motions to the murdered girl in front of them. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ve been your partner for a little over a year and I realized I don’t really know that much about you or who you are” Fowler replies squatting down. “How about we focus on our victim? Find out who she is yeah?” Loki answers back raising his eyebrows. He reaches out and gently brushes the hair from her neck revealing bruising “Victim is a young Caucasian female between 19 and 25 years old, bruising around the throat suggests that the victim was strangled, there is no evidence to suggest that the crime took place here, location appears to be a dumpsite” Loki speaks into a recorder as a tech takes down notes. “Hey…. Lokes….” Fowler’s tone changed to that of concern. “What is it?” Loki looked over at his partner, he seemed paler than a ghost. “Isn’t this the girl who was talking with you at the bar Saturday night?” Fowler asks quietly so the others won’t hear. “Shit… yeah it is her” Loki goes even paler than he already is and stumbles back. “Well did you get her name?” Fowler asks him. Loki looks around at the other officers and begins to breathe heavily, he runs his fingers through his black tresses “Uhh no, we just talked for a few minutes at the bar” his voice was shaky. Fowler steps closer to Loki “Hey, no one is going to think you killed this girl” he assures him. “Obviously no one is going to think I’m a bloody killer Ethan!” Loki hisses at him through a clenched jaw. Fowler backed up a little bit with wide eyes “Whoa, calm down Loki. You looked upset or nervous or something Is all" he explains. “Well, I am upset, I talked to this girl and now she’s dead, was the guy watching her while she talked to me? Did he get her after I turned her down and she left the bar that night? How did this happen?” Loki rambled on a bit in his worry. “Loki this had nothing to do with you and doubt you could've stopped it, let's say you did take this girl home, there would be a different girl laying here in her place. You and I have been doing this long enough to know that” Fowler reminds him. “I’ll meet you back at the station, we’ll start looking into her last movements and see if she has anything in common with our other victims” Loki replies as they head back to their vehicles.

This was the 4th victim in two months, the killer had the same MO each time. The victims were left nude and appeared to be washed prior to being dumped, cause of death strangulation. Each victim was discarded near the lake in the tall brush near the woods, it wasn’t an easily accessible area. The bodies had to be carried to the location, the killer would have to carefully navigate the gravelly shore to reach it. Loki had no doubt that the killer chose the area because the rocks made it impossible to leave any footprints behind. The question was when he was leaving the bodies, it had to be at night since the lake was a popular spot during the day. These killings were eating at Loki, keeping him awake and consuming his thoughts as he tried to chase down the monster responsible.

Tags: @mischiefmaker615

[spideyslag]

Despite earning his living through… legally and morally questionable means, Barnes is not actually a bad guy or a bad person. He’s just a normal guy with a job like anyone else.

That’s his explanation to himself when he finds the wallet.

Small, beat up thing, with a student ID in the front window which thank god has a New York State drivers license behind it, and a single bank card that looks like it’s seen war in one of the slots. There’s a library card which seems to belong to somewhere in queens, and an old photo.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s not a bad guy. He’s actually a good person. That’s what he says when he opens Facebook and types in Peter Parker and is oh so relived when he sees the first profile pop up looks just like the photo on the ID in his hand.

Hey there sorry did this is weird but I just found your wallet. Should I bring it to the address on ur license or is there somewhere better? He types out.

It takes not a minute for the kid to answer.

Because the damned kids these days

Oh my good you’re a lifesaver thank you so much. Is it weird if I ask where you found it? I don’t want you to go all the way to queens if you’re in Manhattan. If, by any chance you’re in the village right now I’m working at a coffee shop off WSP. If you’re in the area can you drop it with me there and I’ll give you a drink as a token of my appreciation? you’re a real lifesaver thank you so much I can’t say thank you enough.

Bucky is, in fact, not far. Found it in the 7/11 in union square. I’ll be right in

That makes sense I must have dropped it getting my pre class monster. You’re a Saint. Thank you so much again.

Bucky beat a man to death last night.

Unrelated.

Some college kid named Peter Parker called him a Saint.

Newly found sainthood. Saint James, patron saint of zip ties.

Bucky walks into the aforementioned coffee shop and sees him immediately. He’s remarkable to look at, maybe that’s half of why he was so invested in this little mitzvot of his. None of the other people working are half as worth watching as him.

He’s handsome. Young and healthy and handsome. But he’s also pretty. There’s no denying it.

He calls out “I’ll be with you in a minute!”, not looking up, as he manages to unjam an espresso machine and scribbles an order on a cup before handing it to someone else.

“H-“

He looks up and his breath hitches and stutters, cheeks dusting pink.

Then he’s fine again.

“Hi! what can I get you?”.

Bucky looks up and feels like the old fuck he is, not knowing half the vaguely Italian-esque words on the menu.

“… I can get like, a normal americano right?” He’s vaguely familiar with that one, curtesy of nat insisting ‘it’s just like, strong coffee’.

Peter laughs. “Of corse you can. Sorry, I know it’s dumb we don’t list our drip either. I would have a panic attack if I came in here as a customer. Is 2 shots okay?”

“Two shots is great. And if I could get a splash of cream”

“Of corse”.

“Thanks, peter.”

Confusion and regrettable anxiety etches Peter’s face as he pulls the wallet out of his coat pocket, and understanding and calm flashes in peters eyes.

“Oh! It’s you! Thank you so much oh my god. Bucky, right?”.

Bucky nods dumbly.

“Don’t thank me, it’s fine. Just doing the right thing”

“Can I get you something else? Do you want a cookie or something?”

“No it’s fine you’re already sweet enough with the coffee, sweetheart”

“Nope. You’re getting a s’mores cookie too. That’s that.”

Bucky chuckles as peter hands the scribbled on cup to another girl, stepping aside to keep talking as someone takes his spot taking orders.

“Thank you a million times really-“

“You’re welcome. Don’t worry about it”

“No you don’t understand, really”.

Peter opens the wallet, and bucky wants to chuckle because this kid doesn’t know him, sure, but he spends more than what this kid makes in a week in a day.

“I didn’t take-“

Words fall on his lips as he takes out a photo. an old one, lip wobbling.

He’s giving a valiant effort not to cry, not to show it, but it’s in vain.

“I was really really scared i lost this for good. You have no idea how much this means to me thank you.”

Peter looks in the wallet as he stores the photo back safely.

“Wait That’s not mine-“ he starts looking at the large bills in it.

“Sure it is”

“Sir-“

“Please god don’t call me that .you’re a college kid, right? God knows you need it and I have too much of it. Consider it your super lucky day”.

“I can’t-“

“Sure you can. Textbooks don’t buy themselves. Dont think too much about it. Really.”

When bucky gets his cup, he shouldn’t be surprised there’s a phone number on it.

[4rtificialfolio]

It’s complicated, my darling - The Prologue

“Ada is an operative in the 1940s from Brighton in England, sent over to New York City to work with the Americans, uncovering secrets and spying on potential suspects. She meets a handsome young man, Nick Folio, on the train into the city; little does she know how that moment would change the trajectory of her life”

Parings: Nick folio X OFC

Word count: 1.4K

Chapter Warnings: brief hinting at death, explicit language

Series master list

(see masterlist for overall warnings, chapter begins below the cut)

Ada

May 19th 1941

New York City, USA

8:23 am

Dear Diary,

Spring is coming any day now, the chill has died off and flowers are beginning to bloom, but I’ll say the air here in America feels a bit thicker when you’re not by the sea. Oh, I miss the seaside, Dad says they closed the beaches back in Brighton last year after Dunkirk, it was too dangerous to keep them open. It’s a shame, our Peggy loved the beach. We used to buy her a 99 and take a walk down the pier watching the seagulls nick a chip out of an unsuspecting victim’s hand. This one time, Peggy laughed so hard she dropped her ice cream and made me and the old man march back down the pier to buy her a new one, just to do the walk up the pier all over again. I would give anything to see her smile again but for now, it’s back to business aye? 

Speaking of business, my dick of a boss, John, back in England assigned me a new mission yesterday. Something about money being stolen from one of the precincts in the city? I'm not sure, I haven’t gotten all the details yet but I guess I’ll find out more in today’s briefing at the head office. 

Anyway, must be off. My train into the city should be here any minute now and God knows my grumpy sod of a boss will have my head if I’m late to another meeting. 

Talk soon.

__________________

“Excuse me, ma’am, would you mind if I sit here? All the other seats are taken”

You avert your eyes from the book you’ve been engrossed in for the past 10 minutes; “The So Blue Marble” by Dorothy B. Hughes, a truly riveting thriller novel. Bookmarking your page, your gaze meets the handsome young chap standing before you.

“Oh yes of course, please, sit down” He’s a rather handsome fellow, clean-shaven with his hair slicked with a side part, perfectly framing his chiselled jaw. Heat flushes across your cheeks and you can’t help but feel a little flustered as he takes a seat in front of you.

“Thank you, Ma’am” He extends his arm for a handshake.

“Please, call me Ada”

“A pleasure, Ada” You can’t help but notice his peculiar accent, it appears to be a southern accent of sorts but you can’t quite place it.

“Is that a southern accent I hear- oh sorry, I didn’t ask your name?”

“Ah no, Maryland although I do get that a lot, and no worries. The name’s Nick but everyone calls me Folio” You tilt your head ever so slightly at the nickname, wondering how that came to be. As if he already knew your next question, he smiles.

“My surname Is Folio, there’s another Nick amongst my friends so over time I just became Folio”

“Aah makes sense. Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Folio” You flash a smile, trying your best not to blush too hard.

“Judging by your accent, you’re from England I assume? What brings you to America, New York City at that?”. It’s the dreaded question you always fear to answer. Although you’re trained to lie, to be deceitful, you can’t help but feel a little guilty each time you respond to that question. It’s not easy to live your life pretending to be someone you’re not, half of the time you’re not even sure what’s real anymore; but that’s the job. Everyone is doing what they can to help the war effort, you included and if that means putting up a facade each day, then so be it.

“My family evacuated from England, we would’ve gone to Canada but my brother is deployed here in the States” You feel your heart drop to your stomach. This isn’t a complete lie; your mother and youngest sister, Mary and Agnes, did evacuate from England, but the ship carrying them to Canada took a devastating blow and ultimately sunk; the total casualties are still unknown. No one knows the whereabouts of your brother, Dennis. You received a telegram in July last year to notify that he was M.I.A when he didn’t return to base with his aircrew. So, no, it wasn’t a complete lie but you have to carry the sadness on your own.

“So, what will a gorgeous lady like you be doing in the city? ” He leans forward on the table, raising his left eyebrow. His words make your heartbeat speed up a million miles an hour. Of course, he doesn’t know the real reason you’re in the city but a little fun can’t hurt, right?

“I’m looking around for a job but most businesses are shut and I’m not first aid trained, so that’s pretty much any job out of the question” Another lie.

“Well, I can’t give you a job but If you ever want some company, please feel free to come down to the 13th precinct. I’d be happy to keep you company” His flirtatious manner doesn’t go unnoticed, nothing overly forward but enough to make your face burn up. A high-pitched whistle blows outside of the train and it isn’t until you see passengers standing up collecting their belongings from the overhead shelves that you realise you’ve reached your destination. You both walk off of the train onto the platform, pushing through the crowd of busybodies.

“Well I must be going, I’ve got some job interviews lined up today. It was lovely meeting you, Folio”

“You too, Ada. Good luck with the interviews, I’m sure you’ll find something soon”. Folio, once again, extends his arm for a handshake. Saying your goodbyes, you make your way along the path towards the north exit gate but your attention is averted as you hear that familiar, not-so-southern, voice.

“I hope you take me up on that offer, Ada!”. He bellows. Turning on your heels, you chuckle thinking about the gorgeously mysterious man you just met.

__________________

“Ah right on time Chapman, makes a change. I was beginning to wonder if that pretty face of yours knew how to tell the time” Alfred, your other male chauvinist pig of a boss, says as you walk into the meeting room.

“Morning Alfred, Sir” Oh how you’d love nothing more than to punch his disgusting, smug face, but you need this job and you need the money, especially if you want to get your dad and Peggy over here in the States.

“As John mentioned to you yesterday, he has assigned you a new mission. The higher-ups believe that someone in the 13th precinct is stealing money from their funding-”

“Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but did you say the 13th precinct?” This can’t be possible, surely not?

“For fuck sake Ada, maybe if you spent less time dressing like a whore and more time paying attention you would’ve heard me. Yes, I said the 13th precinct now shut up and listen” Anger rises through your body as he berates you in front of your team, but you take a deep breath, reminding yourself not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Sorry, sir. Please continue”

“As I was saying, you will be tracking one man. We believe he is acting alone, stealing money to put into an offshore account. You will be working at the precinct undercover as an accountant, you will need to keep track of all the money that goes in and out of their accounts. You’ll be given a written brief with more details. Make sure to read it thoroughly after the meeting ends, if that’s even possible for that empty fucking head of yours. We will go over the target’s name and description so everyone is aware of exactly who the suspect is”. Annie, Alfred’s assistant, hands out copies of the brief around the table.

Flipping over the first page, which details the goal of the mission, you see the name of the suspect.

“Fuck” Is all you can mutter out under your breath as you stare at the page, mouth agape in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” There’s no denying the name and image that’s staring right back at you. Is this a sick joke? A punishment for leaving your family behind?

“Billy, can you please read out the suspect’s name and character description” A part of you still hopes that you’re imagining what you’re seeing in front of you.

“Nick Folio, sir”

There’s no such thing as fate, but the universe has a funny way of deciding it for you.

________

AN: i genuinely loved writing this first chapter. I hope you guys will love this story as much as me, please let me know your thoughts! also please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for each chapter :)

reminder my inbox is always open if you’d rather send your thoughts anonymously (no fic requests)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

So it seems like your requests are open? Cool! I have an idea for COTL! Lamb! Reader is Narinder's chosen vessel rather than the Lamb, and they're EXHAUSTED after everything that's happened. So when Narinder summons them, they say "what if I say "no?"" Narinder just goes, "what?" And they respond "listen, I just died, watched my entire race die, and have been running for my entire life. Can I at least have a break before I get thrown into this?" I just thought it would be funny XD

"Come closer. Fear not, for though you are already dead....I still have need of you."

Standing silently in the white void, you gazed up at the giant feline bishop--a god chained as you, a sacrificial lamb, were now. His arms were stripped to the bone, iron clasps keeping him shackled to the ground and preventing him from freely moving them around too much.

Yet despite him being imprisoned like some caged beast...he seemed no-less revering, and you couldn't help but admire him..

Even if he is the reason you were sent to your death.

Lambs all over the Old Faith were murdered in cold blood, their children snatched and butchered and their villages sieged by the fanatics of the five ruling Bishops. You had been on the run for weeks, without knowing why exactly they targeted your kind specifically.

What did such peaceful wool-covered creatures ever do to deserve this sort of horrible fate?

Only after they have captured you did you realize you were the last living lamb...and that the Bishops put all the others to the blade for one reason:

A prophecy.

A prophecy that spoke of their banished brother--the "One Who Waits"--being freed from his chains by a lamb who'd serve as his vessel and destroy the ways of the Old Faith from the inside out.

For that, the Bishops left none alive in hopes of stopping the prophecy from ever taking place, wanting to ensure the "heretic" stayed in captivity forever.

However after your execution, their plan seemed to have gone awry...considering you, a lamb, stood before the very person they desperately didn't want you to see.

"Those foolish Bishops thought they could keep you from me in death, but instead they sent you straight to me!" Narinder boasted. "I will give you life again, but at a price."

You nervously gulped. "And..what would that be?"

"All I ask is for you to start a cult in my name. Do we have a deal?"

".....what if..I said no?"

"....what?" He narrowed his eyes in confusion, surprised that you didn't readily agree to his offer like other vessels before you. They all jumped at the chance to come back to life..but not you. He began to feel a little insulted.

"Do you take me for a liar, little lamb?" He sneered. "Have you no desire for vengeance against the ones who senselessly destroyed everything you knew and loved? Believe it or not, I can give you that power-"

"I-I absolutely believe you, my lord." You quickly backtracked, kneeling down in respect. "I want that more than anything. It's just...so much has happened all at once. My village burning down, my capture, my death...I haven't known peace until I was sent here. I think..t-taking a small breather first would help me feel better prepared to start a cult in your great name..."

You felt like you rambled a bit too long for his liking, seeing as his stoic expression didn't once waver. Even the smaller cat guardians flanking him hadn't moved an inch, although the one in a white cloak did open his eyes, flashes of concern in them.

Yet Narinder's silence was most discomforting, as you feared that you've angered him and he was going to revoke the offer.

Bowing your head even lower, you squeezed your eyes shut, trembling. "Forgive me, I-I spoke out of turn. I..don't think I'm the right fit to be your vessel-"

However you stopped all movements as you no longer felt the weight of the chains holding you down. And you realized they had disappeared, allowing you to move your arms freely.

Although your neck still ached tremendously...at least the clasp wasn't crushing it anymore.

"No. You are the one I need...for it cannot be anybody else." His voice purred, causing you to look back up at him. This time his gaze seemed softer. "I seldom know what has transpired in the realm of the living..seeing only mere glimpses of certain events. But you've given me better understanding of your tragic circumstances. So I will allow you a brief moment of tranquility to prepare you for your task ahead."

You lightly gasped, smiling as you jumped up into a standing position, hands clasped together in relief. "Oh, thank you so much-!"

"Do not assume I shall always be this charitable." His voice went right back to being condescending. "Take gratitude that I permitted this...and do not ask me for anymore favors henceforth. When you lead a cult, you may not always get "breathers"."

"..I-I understand." You rubbed your neck bashfully. "I appreciate this a lot."

"So I reckon we have a deal? When you're ready, I will guide you on what must be done, and you shall take the Red Crown atop my head to fulfill your mission."

"Very well. I shall gladly serve you and repay the debt I owe."

Narinder blinked, silent for a few long moments, before he grinned wickedly, sharp teeth spreading from ear-to-ear. All three of his eyes seemed to glow brighter.

"Excellent. You understand what must be done and already show such strong devotion to me...you'll be my finest vessel yet."