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saiacross · 8 months

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Bonds Unveiled

Supernatural FanFic : 7,457 Words : Series: Reader-Insert

Chapter 14: The Truth Unveiled

This Work is part of an overarching story that Normally can be read as a one-shot with little overlapping information from other chapters. This However, this Chapter is a *Major Plot Point for this Series* You can read Chapters 2, 3, & 7 as a quick catch-up.

⬅ Chapter 13 Wanted �� Chapter 15 A New Threat ➡ Master List

Chapter 14: The Truth Unveiled With the combined help of Crowley and a Seer descendant of a past Men of Letters, the truth about Saia is revealed. Her birth father, What happened to her Mother, Why she is alone, and What all this means for her future. But of course, everything comes with an unexpected price.

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The dimly lit bar cast an ambiance of gloom, fitting for the shadowy figures that often frequented it. Dean Winchester entered without the usual company of his brother and Y/N, his purpose clear in his determined stride. The air was thick with the scent of cheap alcohol and the hum of hushed conversations, a familiar backdrop for Dean's ventures.

Navigating through the worn-out crowd, Dean's eyes locked onto a figure perched at the bar. A sly grin tugged at his lips as he settled onto a bar stool next to none other than Crowley, the King of Hell.

"Fancy seeing you here," Dean quipped, his voice laced with a mixture of familiarity and amusement.

Crowley's lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glinting with a blend of mischief and nostalgia.

"Reminds me of old times," he mused, taking a casual sip from his drink.

Dean signaled the bartender for a beer.

"Yeah, well, I thought you had a taste for the finer things," he retorted, a playful edge to his tone.

As the bartender slid Dean his beer, he took a moment to survey the grimy surroundings.

"So you were able to find something?" Dean inquired, his curiosity palpable.

Crowley's expression turned slightly more serious as he retrieved a small envelope from his pocket, sliding it across the bar to Dean.

"There wasn't much to find, but it still cost me more than I would like to admit," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

Dean's fingers deftly opened the envelope, revealing its contents. His brows furrowed as his eyes scanned the information contained within.

"From what I gather, her father had such a distaste for anything non-human that he piqued Lilith's interest," Crowley began, his words drawing Dean's full attention.

He took a contemplative sip from his beer, absorbing the details.

"When he finally killed her mother, his blood thirst became so great that Lilith offered him a deal," Crowley continued, his voice lowering for emphasis. "For his humanity, she would give him the power to kill anything he found unnatural. He agreed and became her own Prince of Hell."

The weight of the revelation hung in the air between them, a moment of shared understanding. Dean's jaw clenched his thoughts a whirlwind of implications. "So he's not just a run-of-the-mill hunter with a vendetta," Dean mused, his gaze hardened.

The bar's ambient noise seemed to fade away as Crowley continued to unravel the intricate threads of their enemy's history. His words held a certain grim fascination, drawing Dean deeper into the twisted narrative.

"Oh, it gets better," Crowley's voice dripped with a mix of dark amusement and underlying seriousness. "This New Prince didn't play well with the other kiddos. He actually tried to kill Azazel a few times."

Dean's brows shot up in surprise, his mind racing to process this unexpected revelation. The implications were staggering, painting a picture of a power struggle among the demonic hierarchy that was even more volatile than he had imagined.

"He was out of control, really," Crowley continued, his tone hinting at a mixture of disdain and intrigue. "Didn't listen to mummy and daddy at all. So they cut him loose and let him run rampant as he liked, as long as he didn't interfere with their plans."

Dean's jaw tightened as he absorbed the information. It was as if a puzzle piece had clicked into place, shedding light on one of the many unanswered questions surrounding Y/N.

"Guess this causes a problem for you too?" Dean mused, his gaze shifting to meet Crowley's eyes. It was a loaded question, one that acknowledged the shared interests and challenges their newfound knowledge presented.

Crowley's expression turned momentarily contemplative before he nodded in agreement.

"Indeed, it does," he admitted, the weight of his words underscoring the complexity of their predicament. The ‘New’ Prince's unrestrained actions threatened to disrupt not only the balance of power in Hell but also the intricate dance of influence Crowley had carefully woven.

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Sam's footsteps echoed softly against the cool concrete floor of the bunker's storage room. His brows furrowed in concern as he noted the scattered chaos of opened boxes and strewn files, a scene that seemed out of place in the otherwise organized space. The air was heavy with an atmosphere of focused intensity, and it was clear that something had captured Y/N's attention.

As he peered into the room, his gaze fell upon Y/N, who sat amid the disarray with a stack of papers in her hands. Her dark brown hair spilled over her shoulders as she bent over the contents of a file, her expression one of deep concentration. Her fox ear twitched and without looking up, she spoke, her voice carrying a hint of distraction, "Hey, Sam."

Sam stepped further into the room, his concern deepening as he took in the sight. His eyes roamed over the scattered files, boxes, and documents that lay haphazardly around her. "Hey," he replied, his tone a mix of curiosity and worry. "I was just wondering what you were up to."

Y/N finally glanced up from the file she was studying, her gaze meeting Sam's with a mixture of determination and fatigue. Her lips curled into a tired smile as she motioned to the mess around her. "Just going through some research," she explained, her voice carrying a weight of purpose. "Trying to dig up any leads or connections related to that whole... well ME situation."

Sam nodded, his understanding evident as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Right. It's been bugging you, hasn't it?" he asked, his voice soft with empathy.

Y/N let out a rueful chuckle, her fingers absently tapping against the file in her hands. "Yeah, you could say that," she admitted.

Sam's gaze softened as he took a step closer to her. "I get it," he said. "But don't you think you've been at this for a while? Maybe you should take a break."

Y/N's shoulders relaxed slightly, her exhaustion becoming more apparent. "I just... I want to make sure we're not missing anything crucial."

Sam's eyes bore into Y/N, his concern, and empathy radiating from his gaze as he carefully broached the topic that had been eating at him.

"Dean said you weren't getting much sleep again," he began, his voice gentle yet probing. "Is this why you've been so irritable lately?"

Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the scattered papers before her, her fingers stopped tracing over the edges of a weathered document. Her silence spoke volumes, confirming Sam's suspicions. He pressed on, his voice tinged with a mix of understanding and worry.

"When was the last time you got more than a few hours of sleep?" Sam walked over to Y/N’s side and knelt next to her.

Y/N's shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping her lips as she raised a hand to rub at her temples, her fingers massaging away the lingering tension.

"The Dragon incident," she admitted, her voice carrying the weight of fatigue. "That was a week ago."

Sam's eyes widened in disbelief, his brows shooting up as he processed the revelation.

"A week?" he repeated, his voice a mix of shock and concern. Y/N's admission weighed heavily on him, and he leaned in slightly, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Y/N, you can't keep going like this. You need rest."

Y/N's gaze remained downcast, her voice tinged with a touch of frustration and resignation.

"I know," she conceded. "It’s the nightmares, they just don't stop. I can manage a few hours at a time, but that's it."

A pained expression crossed Sam's face as he processed the depth of Y/N's struggle. He mentioned a potential solution, his voice low and tentative.

"Cass could..." But before Sam could finish his thought, Y/N's response came swift and firm, cutting through the air with finality.

"No, he can't," she interjected, her voice carrying a mix of sadness and determination. "It's not the kind of issue you just erase or lock away."

Sam, his heart heavy with understanding, let the weight of Y/N's pain and exhaustion settle in the space between them. Her words resonated with him, a haunting echo of his own past battles with literal inner demons. Sam found himself drawn into memories of his own struggles, the haunting echoes of Lucifer's manipulation, and the nightmarish battles he fought within his own mind. In that moment, he could truly empathize with Y/N's torment.

Sam's voice was soft and filled with empathy as he wrapped his arm around Y/N, pulling her gently into a comforting embrace. He felt her body relax against him, the tension that had been gripping her slowly dissipating as she leaned into his presence. The papers she had been poring over slipped from her grasp, abandoned in favor of seeking solace in Sam's embrace.

Y/N's voice, a fragile mixture of vulnerability and exhaustion, trembled as she confided in him. "They're getting worse," she admitted, her words carrying the weight of a battle fought in the shadows of her own mind. "And I'm just so tired."

Sam's hand moved in a soothing rhythm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns up and down her arm and shoulder. His touch was a balm to her weary soul, a silent promise that she was not alone in this struggle. "Yeah, I know," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance that echoed through the stillness of the room.

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Dean's footsteps echoed through the bunker's corridor as he descended the staircase to the main entrance. His intent was simple – food. He carried a bag loaded with takeout, a gesture of solace for both himself and his brother, a culinary respite from the chaos of their lives.

As if on cue, Sam appeared, a steady stride carrying him towards the library. Their eyes met, and Dean offered a subtle nod of acknowledgment, the bag of sustenance lifted slightly for Sam to see. Sam returned the nod, his expression a mix of gratitude and curiosity.

With the bag of food deposited on the library table, Dean set about extracting its contents. His movements were deft and practiced, a testament to the countless times they had shared meals in this very space. Sam settled into a seat, his gaze never leaving Dean as he asked the question that had been lingering in the air.

"Hey, where have you been?" Sam's voice held a touch of intrigue, a curiosity born from his brother being gone longer than normal for a food run.

Dean's lips curved into a half-smile as he continued to unpack the food. "Got some info with dinner," he replied, his tone casual yet laden with significance.

Sam's eyebrows lifted in interest, his curiosity growing. Before he could voice another question, Dean's inquiry cut through the air. "Where…"

Sam's response was quick, an affirmation that needed no further explanation. "She's in her room, supposed to be trying to sleep."

Dean's gaze sharpened, and a knowing look passed between the brothers. It was a look that spoke volumes, an unspoken understanding of the turmoil that had been brewing beneath the surface. Sam's admission confirmed what Dean had suspected – Y/N's struggles extended beyond the physical battles they faced.

"You were right," Sam continued, his voice tinged with concern. "She hasn't been sleeping. Not since the whole Dragon thing."

Dean settled into the chair across from Sam, his demeanor a mix of weariness and determination. The bag of takeout lay open on the table between them, a symbol of normalcy amidst the chaos that defined their lives.

"Well, good news is we finally got some answers on the guy who she thought was her father," Dean began, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. His gaze met Sam's, his eyes holding a flicker of excitement.

Sam's interest was piqued, curiosity dancing in his eyes. However, there was an edge to his tone as he posed the question that had been lingering on his mind. "So you went to see Crowley?"

Dean unwrapped his food, his fingers working with a practiced ease, as if the act of devouring a meal was second nature even in the midst of a serious conversation. He didn't directly respond to Sam's accusation, choosing instead to dive into the revelation he had obtained.

"So the guy's name is Sano," Dean continued, his voice steady as he delved into the information he had gathered from the King of Hell. He recounted the details, each word carefully chosen to convey the significance of what he had learned. The story unfolded, painting a picture of a man whose journey was intertwined with Y/N's in ways they hadn't anticipated.

Sam's attention remained unwavering, his focus fixed on Dean's words. He absorbed the information, the wheels in his mind turning as he processed the implications. The brothers had faced countless enigmas and adversaries over the years, but this new revelation added another layer to their ever-expanding tapestry of challenges.

As Dean recounted the tale, emotions flitted across Sam's features – surprise, concern, and a glimmer of determination. The weight of the situation settled upon them, a reminder that their actions carried consequences that rippled beyond the immediate battles they fought.

Sam leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he digested the unexpected twist in the tale that Dean had just unveiled.

"Huh, Sano tried to kill Azazel?" Sam mused, his voice tinged with a sense of disbelief and intrigue. The words seemed almost surreal as if fate itself had woven a complex web of connections that spanned both time and circumstance.

The mere notion of Sano's audacious attempts on Azazel's life was enough to spark a cascade of thoughts in Sam's mind. He glanced at Dean, a mixture of contemplation and wonder flickering in his gaze.

"What are the odds..." Sam's voice trailed off, the words barely more than a whisper. It was a rhetorical question, a reflection of his own amazement at the intricacies of their world. The supernatural landscape was filled with countless threads of fate, and the revelation about Sano's actions only further proved that.

Sam's mind wandered, a ripple of speculation coursing through his thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder how different things might be if Sano's efforts had actually succeeded. Would the world they knew have unfolded in a dramatically altered way? Would the struggles they faced have taken on a different form?

Dean and Sam sat in companionable silence, their minds churning with thoughts and reflections.

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It had only been a few hours since Dean and Sam had finished eating that they decided to take Y/N's meal to her, seeing as she hadn't made an appearance yet.

Dean stood before Y/N's door, rapping his knuckles against the wood.

"Y/N, Hey it’s me." The lack of response grated on Dean's nerves. He knocked again, this time a bit harder.

"Come on, we got food here." His voice was louder and carried a mix of annoyance and concern, a cocktail that often accompanied his dealings with the fiery Kitsune.

As the seconds ticked by without a reply, Dean's patience wore thin. He grasped the doorknob and turned it, pushing the door open with a creak. The room was dimly lit, the air tinged with the scent of disuse. Dean took a step in, his eyes scanning the space for any sign of Y/N.

"Y/N?" he called out once more, the annoyance in his tone giving way to a growing sense of concern. He approached the bed, noting the neatness of the covers. It didn't look like anyone had been sleeping here.

An irritating feeling settled in Dean's gut. He turned on his heel and left the room, heading down the hallway. He recalled Sam's mention of Y/N being in one of the storage rooms. Dean made his way down the hall fully intending to drag her out by her tails if need be and lock her in her room.

Dean's frustration turned into surprise as he rounded the corner of the storage room door, only to collide with Y/N. The impact wasn't particularly forceful, but it was enough to catch both of them off guard. Y/N stumbled slightly, her smaller frame nearly knocked off balance, while Dean's reflexes kicked in to keep her steady.

"Whoa, watch it there," Dean exclaimed, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and concern. His hands shot out instinctively, gripping Y/N's shoulders firmly to prevent her from toppling over.

Y/N let out a startled breath, her heart racing from the sudden collision. Her gaze lifted to meet Dean's, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. "Dean," she managed to utter, her voice a soft breath.

Dean's expression softened as he looked down at her, his grip on her shoulders gentle now. "You alright?"

Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinged with a light blush. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice slightly shaky.

In that moment Dean's frustration returns, evident in his stern tone as he questioned Y/N's presence in the storage room. He took a step back, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation. "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting."

Y/N held a folder in her hands, her expression a mix of determination and urgency. She nodded in acknowledgment of Dean's concern. "I know, I know, but Dean, I found something."

Dean's irritation seemed to momentarily waver as he glanced down at the file she held. The shift in his expression hinted at his curiosity, even though he was still clearly annoyed by her disregard for her own well-being. "Found something? What do you mean?"

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Y/N's excitement was palpable as she practically danced her way into the library, her quick steps carrying her to the first table. Dean followed closely behind, his own pace hurried to match hers, and he called out for Sam, his voice carrying a sense of urgency.

"Sam!" Dean's deep voice echoed through the hallways, summoning Sam to their location. Sam, always ready for action, quickly rounded the corner, his expression expectant and concerned. As he joined Dean and Y/N at the table, his eyes flickered between them, sensing that something important was happening.

"What? What's going on?" Sam's voice was filled with a mix of curiosity and worry as he took in the sight before him. Y/N and Dean stood around the table, and the arrangement of files and papers hinted at a sense of purpose.

Y/N wasted no time, her hands moving with purpose as she laid out several files on the table. She opened the first one, revealing a collection of handwritten notes and references. Sam's gaze moved between the documents and Y/N's eager expression, his curiosity growing with every passing second.

Y/N's excitement radiated as she pulled a picture of a man to the forefront of the pile of papers, her hands practically trembling with enthusiasm. With a sparkle in her eyes, she began to explain, her words pouring out like a torrent of discovery.

"In 1960, there was a Man of Letters member named Levi Alexander," Y/N's voice was filled with awe and wonder. "Levi had a gift of knowledge. He could essentially look at anyone and see their true forms, even if they were wearing a disguise. It didn't matter if it was a vampire, a werewolf, a freaking shifter; with one look, he just knew."

As she spoke, Y/N's hands deftly moved the papers forward, unveiling more details about Levi Alexander's extraordinary ability. Her excitement seemed to infect the very air in the room, drawing the attention of both Sam and Dean who were hanging on her every word.

"He is also why we know as much as we do and have all these documents on these creatures," Y/N continued, her voice rising with each revelation. "Just laying his eyes on them gave him insight that no one did. So, he used this ability to get close to whatever he could and gather more information."

Sam's analytical mind was already connecting the dots, but there was a crucial concern that he couldn't ignore. He interjected cautiously, "This is great and all, but is this guy even alive anymore?"

Y/N's excitement didn't waver, and she swiftly pulled out another piece of paper, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. "I know, Sam, but here's the fascinating part—they found out that the gift was hereditary, and the information that one user acquired is passed down to the next!"

As the weight of her words settled in, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to contain her exhilaration, and met Sam's gaze with unbridled enthusiasm. "They noted he had family, but there aren't any records of them in these files."

The room was charged with a sense of incredulity as Sam and Dean exchanged stunned glances. The implications of what Y/N had uncovered were staggering, and they were both struggling to fully grasp the magnitude of the revelation.

Sam stumbled over his words, his voice filled with a mixture of astonishment and realization. "Y/N... this... THIS is huge."

Dean's eyes were wide, his disbelief transforming into a rare, genuine excitement. "So, what you're saying is, Levi Alexander, has descendants out there who inherited his ability? The ability to see the true nature of supernatural beings AND just know everything about them?"

Y/N nodded vigorously, her excitement contagious as it spread to everyone in the room. "Exactly! And if we can find the one who has the ability, I can finally get some answers."

Sam's mind was already racing, his thoughts a whirlwind of plans and possibilities. "I'm going to get to work tracking down his family," he declared, his voice focused and determined. With a nod from Dean, he turned and strode purposefully out of the room, his mind already racing through databases and connections.

Dean's eyes flickered with a mix of concern and urgency as he added, "I'm gonna call Cass. I feel like this is something he should have known about." With a determined set to his jaw, he too turned and pulled his phone from his pocket, eager to bring their angelic ally up to speed.

But just as they were about to leave the room, their senses caught the faint, frustrated mutterings of Y/N. “Fuck…” The two brothers exchanged a quick glance, their brows furrowing in shared worry.

Their concern escalated as the air was punctuated by an abrupt thud, followed by the rustling sound of papers scattering. Without a moment's hesitation, both Sam and Dean spun around.

Their hearts clenched as they found her sprawled on the floor, unconscious, surrounded by the fallen papers that had slipped from the table in her fall. Rushing to her side Dean immediately knelt down beside her, gently cradling her head and calling her name, "Y/N? Y/N, come on, wake up."

Sam was right there by his side, his hands hovering with a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

"Y/N, can you hear us?" he added, his voice laced with worry. They exchanged a quick, anxious look, the weight of the situation settling heavily on their shoulders.

Time seemed to hang suspended as they awaited a response, their hearts pounding in tandem with the fear that gripped them. Y/N's form remained still, her breathing shallow, a hint of vulnerability touching her features.

And then, with a faint groan, Y/N began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered, and she slowly blinked her way back to consciousness. Confusion and disorientation danced in her eyes for a moment before she fully registered her surroundings.

Sam let out a sigh of relief, his voice a mix of concern and relief. "Hey, you okay?"

Y/N's voice was faint as she rubbed her temples, a hint of frustration in her tone. "Yeah, just got a bit dizzy, I think."

Dean's grip on her shoulder was steady and reassuring as he added, "Dizzy? You completely passed out.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, the weight of the moment not lost on her. "Guess I got a little too excited," she admitted, her voice tinged with a touch of embarrassment. Y/N's attempt to downplay the incident with a light laugh did little to mask the concern in the air. She struggled to rise from the floor, but before she could make much progress, Dean's arms enveloped her in a secure embrace. She could feel the tension in his hold, his frustration palpable as he spoke, his voice firm and no-nonsense, "Cut the crap.”

Sam's voice joined in, his tone gentle but determined, "Y/N, let us take it from here. Try to at least get some sleep, alright? We'll let you know when we find something."

Y/N managed a weary nod, gratitude mingling with her fatigue as she nodded her agreement. With the weight of her discovery and the strain of her current state, it was becoming clearer that she needed a break, even if reluctantly.

Dean's arms remained steadfast around her as he began to carry her, his determination to ensure her well-being evident. As they moved through the bunker's corridors, Y/N rested her head against Dean's chest, a mixture of emotions swirling within her.

It was a quiet journey to her room, each step carrying a sense of shared concern and care. The door to her room creaked open, and Dean gently laid her down on the bed. Y/N looked up at him, her exhaustion and gratitude reflected in her eyes.

"Get some rest," Dean urged, his voice softer now, the frustration from earlier replaced with genuine concern. Y/N nodded again.

“I mean it.” Dean's gaze held hers for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between them. Then, with a reassuring smile, he turned and made his way out of the room, leaving Y/N to her thoughts.

Alone in the quiet room, Y/N let out a tired sigh. She knew they were right—she needed rest, both for her physical and emotional well-being. As she settled into the bed, her mind was still racing with thoughts of the discovery, but fatigue quickly overcame her.

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In the realm of dreams, Y/N was trapped within the haunting grasp of her own memories, the tendrils of her past nightmares ensnaring her psyche. The vivid scenes played out before her like a twisted reel of torment, each frame etched with pain and fear.

Her mind thrust her back to that fateful night, where the chilling echo of her mother's cries reverberated in her ears as the blade fell. Her heart clenched as the memory of her father's monstrous act seared through her, leaving an indelible mark on her soul.

But the nightmares were relentless, morphing into even darker realms. Her visions twisted and warped, conjuring new horrors from the depths of her subconscious. She watched in helpless agony as her loved ones were mercilessly slaughtered before her eyes, her father's malevolent laughter ringing in her ears.

Chains of guilt and despair bound her, his taunting words cutting deeper with every passing second. "It's all your fault," his voice hissed, a venomous serpent coiling around her mind. The weight of her existence bore down upon her, threatening to suffocate her spirit.

Y/N's slumber was a battlefield, her restless tossing and turning mirroring her struggle for escape. The dreams held her captive, refusing to relinquish their grip. But then, in a crescendo of terror, she awoke.

Gasping for breath, her heart thundering, Y/N's eyes snapped open. It took a moment for her to realize she was back in her own room. But the relief was short-lived as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and her room was no longer empty. Her father's malicious presence loomed over her, straddling her body, his hands wrapping around her throat like suffocating vines.

In a rush of panic, Y/N's body surged with adrenaline, and she fought back with every ounce of strength. Her hands clawed at his grip, her voice strained to call out for help. Just as her vision began to blur and consciousness wavered, her gaze shifted to a red fiery intensity, a rage that defied even the grip of a nightmare. Her determination transformed into a power that materialized from within. With that newfound strength, her father's sinister form evaporated into thin air.

Gasping and panting, Y/N stumbled out of her bed, every fiber of her being still on edge. The rush of cool air outside her room was like a lifeline, grounding her in reality. The coolness of the hallway wall pressed against her back, offering a semblance of safety that the dream had stolen. She sank to the floor, her breathing ragged, tears of anger and fear mingling as she tried to steady herself.

The nightmare may have released its hold, but its echoes reverberated within her, a testament to the scars that lingered beneath the surface. In that moment, her vulnerability was starkly apparent, and yet, so was her resilience. The night was heavy, the shadows long, but Y/N clung to the courage that had guided her through countless battles, both real and imagined.

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Dean shuffled into the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with the remnants of sleep. His eyes squinted against the morning light as he moved towards the welcoming promise of his first cup of coffee. A barely audible "Mornin'" escaped his lips, a sleepy greeting offered to the figure at the stove. Y/N's response was cheerful, her voice a contrast to Dean's grogginess, and she continued her culinary task with practiced ease.

Dean settled into a chair at the table, cradling his cup in both hands as he took in the comforting aroma of the coffee. His gaze lifted when the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. Sam entered the kitchen, a towel slung over his shoulder and the faint sheen of a post-run glow on his skin.

“Your plate is on the table, Sam.” Y/N's words were a warm invitation as she called out to him, her demeanor casual and friendly.

Sam's thanks were genuine as he retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge, a nod of appreciation directed towards Y/N. His presence joined Dean's at the table.

“Were you able to get any sleep last night?” Sam’s question held an undercurrent of concern, an inquiry into the truth behind Y/N's restless night. The weight of her shrug spoke volumes, the little sleep she had managed evident in the weariness etched on her features.

As Y/N moved gracefully to place a plate of bacon on the table, Dean's attention shifted from his coffee to her. However, the sight that met his eyes was unexpected, and his coffee came dangerously close to becoming an unintentional projectile. The bruises that adorned Y/N's neck were stark against her skin, vivid reminders of a battle fought within the realm of dreams.

Dean's voice caught, his surprise and concern converging as he spoke, "Whoa, what is that?" His gaze met Y/N's, the concern in his eyes mirrored by his words.

Sam's concern deepened as he followed Dean's lead, his eyes locking onto the marks on Y/N's neck. The realization hung in the air, heavy and unsettling. Sam's voice was a mix of worry and disbelief as he articulated the question that had formed in both his mind and Dean's, "Are those bruises?"

Y/N's attempt to dismiss the matter and return to her cooking was met with immediate resistance. Dean's hand shot out to catch Y/N's wrist before she could retreat. His touch was both gentle and firm, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the evidence before him.

Dean's voice edged with concern, cut through the kitchen, the weight of his words revealing the depth of his worry, "Those look like bruises from being choked." The atmosphere in the room shifted, tension mounting as Sam's gaze remained fixed on Y/N. His voice was careful, laced with a mix of caution and compassion, as he began to piece together the puzzle, "Y/N... you didn't..."

Y/N's response was direct, her words holding an air of resignation as she provided an explanation that was both unsettling and hauntingly real, "I had another nightmare last night, that's all." Her words hung in the air, a veil of darkness descending over the room. But the truth was undeniable – nightmares didn't typically leave physical marks.

The frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted as Dean's voice rose, an angry growl of disbelief, "Nightmares don't leave bruises." It was a statement of fact, a stark reminder of the abnormality of the situation they were facing.

Y/N's retort was sharp, her words a defiant declaration of the horrors that plagued her sleep, "Yeah, well, mine do! Especially when they are hovering over my bed." The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Y/N's words reverberating through the space. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, a glimpse into the terrifying reality that Y/N was grappling with.

Sam's gaze softened, the concern in his eyes deepening as he exchanged a knowing look with Dean. The bruises were more than physical marks and in that moment, their roles shifted from mere companions to guardians, united in their determination to stand by Y/N's side and face the demons that sought to shatter her sense of safety and sanity.

The air in the kitchen hung heavy with unspoken tension, each member of the trio lost in their own thoughts as the weight of the moment settled upon them. Y/N's voice, devoid of emotion and directed at the stove, cut through the silence, "If you don't mind, I'm going to go shower." It was a simple request, a quiet plea for some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos that had unfolded.

Dean's grip on her wrist slackened instantly, his hand dropping away as if burned. The gesture was filled with a mixture of regret and understanding, a recognition that his protective grasp had inadvertently intensified Y/N's discomfort. As Y/N turned off the stove, her movements deliberate and detached, Dean remained seated, his brow furrowed in thought.

The sound of Y/N's footsteps echoing down the hallway marked her departure from the kitchen, leaving behind a palpable void. Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, their unspoken communication revealing a shared concern for their friend.

Dean's gaze shifted to the tabletop, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on its surface. The silence stretched on, the absence of Y/N's presence felt acutely in the room. Sam's voice broke through the quiet, his words soft but laden with empathy, "We need to help her, Dean."

Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he nodded in agreement.

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The Impala's engine purred as the sleek black car glided down the open highway, the familiar hum of the road blending seamlessly with the soft tunes emanating from the radio. Inside the car, the atmosphere was a mixture of anticipation and quiet contemplation.

Y/N sat in the back seat, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery beyond the window. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, a blend of anxiety and curiosity about the upcoming meeting with Olivia Alexander. She knew that their journey held the potential to unveil secrets about her heritage, about the lineage she had only just discovered. Her fingers drummed a gentle rhythm against her thigh, a nervous habit that betrayed the thoughts churning within her.

Up front, Dean's grip on the steering wheel was steady, his eyes alternating between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. He cast occasional glances at Y/N, his brow furrowing with a mixture of concern and determination. His lips quirked into a faint smile as he caught her gaze in the mirror, an unspoken reassurance passing between them.

In the passenger seat, Sam's attention was absorbed by his laptop, the soft blue glow casting a gentle illumination on his face. His brow furrowed in concentration as he navigated through the information he had gathered about Olivia Alexander, the relative they were on their way to meet. The anticipation of uncovering more about Levi's family and their unique gift fueled his determination to find answers.

As the miles passed, the silence in the car was occasionally punctuated by the soft exchange of words – a question from Sam, a comment from Dean – but for the most part, they traveled in a companionable quiet. Each passing mile brought them closer to Perryton, Texas, and to the answers they sought. The anticipation hung in the air, a subtle undercurrent of tension and excitement. Their destination loomed ahead, a beacon of possibility and mystery, waiting to be explored.

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The trio exchanged dubious glances as they stood before the unassuming shop, its whimsically tacky appearance contrasting sharply with the weight of their expectations. Dean's voice carried a note of skepticism as he voiced their collective thoughts, "This? This is the place?"

Sam's nod confirmed that they had indeed arrived at the address provided, but his expression mirrored their shared disbelief. "Yeah, this is the address listed," he affirmed, his brow furrowing slightly as he surveyed the peculiar exterior of "Alexander's Misfortunes."

The shop's façade was a riot of mismatched colors and eccentric decorations as if someone had fused together a thrift store, a carnival, and a fortune teller's booth. Statues of gnomes, wizards, and other fantastical creatures lined the entrance, giving the impression that the shop was caught in a whimsical time warp.

With a collective sigh, they moved forward, the sound of a tinkling bell announcing their entry as they stepped through the shop's door. Inside, the shop was a treasure trove of oddities – shelves lined with trinkets, crystals, and curiosities of every shape and size. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, creating an almost mystical ambiance.

A figure emerged from behind a draped curtain at the back of the shop, drawing their attention. An older woman with silver-streaked hair, dark-tinted glasses, and a warm smile greeted them, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Welcome to Alexander's Misfortunes," she said, her voice carrying a melodious lilt. "I sense you've come seeking answers."

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam and Y/N, a mixture of curiosity and wariness in his eyes. "You could say that," he replied, his voice cautious yet intrigued.

The woman's smile widened, her gaze seeming to pierce through them as if she could see into their very souls. "Then you've come to the right place," she declared. "For here, the threads of fate are woven, and secrets are unveiled."

The air in the quirky shop suddenly turned tense, the woman's vibrant energy shifting into a palpable fear that gripped the room. As Dean stepped aside to inspect an item, Y/N's presence was revealed, and the moment the woman's gaze fell upon her, her demeanor transformed in an instant. The old woman's joyful expression contorted into one of sheer terror, her eyes widening and her mouth gaping open as if she had seen a ghost.

In a split second that seemed to stretch into eternity, the woman's initial shock culminated in a blood-curdling scream that reverberated through the shop, shattering the calm ambiance like a sledgehammer. The abruptness of the scream sent Dean, Sam, and Y/N jumping back in startled unison, their hearts racing as adrenaline surged through their veins.

"Monstrum! Monstra mihi venerunt!" The woman's voice was thick with panic, her words spoken in a language that Dean recognized.. Her voice quivered with an otherworldly fear, and she turned on her heel and bolted toward the back of the shop, disappearing behind the same draped curtain from which she had emerged.

The trio was left in a state of bewilderment, their wide eyes fixed on the spot where the woman had vanished. Dean's brow furrowed in confusion, his hesitance seeping into his voice as he tried to make sense of the surreal scene. "Did she just speak Latin?"

Sam's affirmation was barely above a whisper, his own uncertainty palpable. "I think she just..."

Y/N's voice, tinged with a mix of resignation and frustration, cut through the awkward silence as she completed Sam's sentence. "She just called me a Monster."

Dean exchanged a solemn look with Sam, his expression a mix of concern and determination. Y/N's eyes remained fixed on the spot where the woman had disappeared.

The tension in the air escalated as the woman reappeared, her previously terrified expression now transformed into one of determination. In her hand, she clutched a suzu, a traditional Japanese instrument, adorned with numerous talismans and emitting the invigorating scent of yuzu fruit. With swift and purposeful movements, she vigorously shook the suzu, causing the bells at its end to ring out in a melodious, ethereal chime that resonated through the shop.

As the suzu's enchanting tones filled the space, the woman's voice joined the symphony, her chanting echoing off the walls. "Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!" The rhythmic repetition of her words carried a sense of ritualistic urgency, imbued with a power that seemed to transcend the mundane.

Suddenly, her actions took a surprising turn, and she began to hurl red beans at Dean, Sam, and Y/N. Dean and Sam exchanged incredulous glances, their expressions mirroring the bafflement that clouded their thoughts as they raised their arms to shield their faces from the beans. It was a sight that bordered on the absurd, and they both regarded the woman with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

However, Y/N's reaction was different. The smell of yuzu and the sound of the bells triggered a recognition deep within her, an understanding of the woman's intentions. Without hesitation, Y/N's instincts kicked in, and she swiftly pulled Dean in front of her, using his form as a shield against the volley of red beans.

Caught off guard, Dean sputtered as the beans struck him, his face contorting into an expression of both surprise and irritation. He glanced back at Y/N with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "What the hell?"

“I don’t know,” Sam shouted as he attempted to decipher the situation, his gaze flickering between the woman's chanting and the strange ritual unfolding before them. As he struggled to make sense of it, Y/N's voice reached him from behind Dean, cutting through the confusion.

"She's trying to banish me," Y/N shouted her tone a blend of frustration and exasperation.

The revelation hung in the air like a heavy fog, casting a shadow over the already bewildering scene. Dean's frustration shifted to concern as he turned his head to Y/N, his brow furrowing deeply. "Banish you? What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what it sounds like. She's trying to cast me out. Rid herself of the demon. It’s an exorcism!" Y/N's eyes held a mixture of resignation and bitterness as she explained the situation.

Sam's features hardened, his jaw tightening as he looked at the woman with a newfound understanding. The woman's chanting continued the resonance of her words and the ringing of the suzu creating an eerie atmosphere that seemed to vibrate with ancient power.

Y/N's distress was palpable as she covered her ears, desperately trying to shield herself from the piercing resonance of the suzu's bells. The haunting sound seemed to seep into her very soul, causing discomfort to ripple through her being. The overwhelming scent of yuzu fruit, sharp and invasive, clawed at her senses, stinging her eyes and nose, and prompting her to blink back tears.

Amidst the cacophony of sounds and sensations, Sam's voice cut through the dissonance like a lifeline. He called out with urgency, his words carrying the weight of their intent. "Olivia! We're part of the Men of Letters! Just like your grandfather, Levi Alexander! We came because we need your help!"

As if responding to Sam's plea, the assault of beans abruptly ceased, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. Dean and Sam cautiously lowered their arms, their eyes wary but hopeful as they regarded the elderly woman who had initiated the ritual.

It was then that a new figure emerged, stepping into view beside the old lady. A young woman, her presence a stark contrast to the elders, studied the group with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Her eyes assessed each of them, searching for something beyond the surface as if sizing them up against a hidden scale of trustworthiness.

Her voice carried a note of defiance as she spoke, her words a challenge directed at the unexpected visitors. "The Men of Letters are all dead."

Sam's expression remained resolute, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. "We know that, but we’re their legacy. We've fight against the same threats Levi did."

Dean's gaze remained fixed on the young woman, his demeanor a mix of guarded caution and genuine sincerity. "We're here because we believe your family history might hold the key to a current situation. A powerful gift was passed down through your bloodline, a gift that could help us."

The young woman's skepticism wavered, her brow furrowing as she seemed to weigh their words against the uncertainty that surrounded them. The room hung in tense anticipation, the atmosphere charged with a delicate balance between doubt and hope.

Olivia, the elderly woman, exchanged a brief glance with her descendant, the silent communication between them conveying a complex mixture of emotions. Finally, Olivia stepped forward, her voice carrying a note of cautious acceptance. "Tell us more. Explain what you need."

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The small sitting room was filled with an array of esoteric artifacts, casting an air of mystique over the space. Sam, Dean, and Y/N were led to sit on a worn but comfortable sofa, their attention drawn to the assortment of ritual tools and symbols that adorned the walls and shelves.

Facing them were Olivia and her daughter Emma, both women exuding an air of wisdom and experience that belied their appearance. Olivia's white eyes, now unveiled from behind her glasses, held an otherworldly quality that immediately captured the attention of the Winchesters and Y/N. The revelation of her blindness seemed to hold a certain weight, a testament to the mysteries that unfolded in the hidden corners of the supernatural world.

The room itself seemed to hold its breath, the silence stretching as Olivia took in the newcomers with an intensity that felt both assessing and familiar. Her words cut through the stillness, a mix of curiosity and recognition lacing her tone.

"A real Kitsune, huh? My my, what a rare specimen you are."

Sam's reaction was a subtle but palpable twitch, his eyebrow-raising involuntarily at Olivia's choice of words. The term "specimen" felt disconcertingly clinical, reducing Y/N to an object of study rather than a sentient being. His protective instincts surged, a hint of frustration flickering in his eyes.

Dean, never one to mince words, chimed in with a mix of curiosity and caution.

"You seem pretty well-informed."

Olivia's lips curved into a knowing smile, her features illuminated by an inner light that seemed to transcend her physical sight.

"Oh, my dear, knowledge is a precious gift, especially when dealing with the hidden tapestry of our world. I've encountered my fair share of supernatural entities, each a thread in the grand design."

Y/N, despite the mixed feelings stirring within her, couldn't help but be intrigued by Olivia's perspective.

"And what do you know about my kind?"

Olivia's gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of reality as if seeing beyond the surface into the depths of existence.

"Kitsunes are creatures of duality, embodying both light and shadow. They hold ancient wisdom and power, but with it comes the burden of choice. Your kind, dear child, walks a path fraught with complexities and tests."

Emma, who had been observing the exchange with quiet intensity, finally spoke up, her voice holding a hint of reverence.

"Our family has always believed in the balance of forces, the dance between creation and destruction. It is in our blood to safeguard this equilibrium by providing us with the ability to see the true and provide us with knowledge."

Dean leaned forward, his expression a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

"So you're saying you can help us?"

Olivia's smile held a sense of gravitas, a profound weight behind her words.

"We can guide you, provide insights that may illuminate your path. But remember, young ones, knowledge is a double-edged sword. It can lead you to salvation or to your own demise. The choices you make will shape the tapestry of your destiny."

Dean's frustration began to bubble to the surface, his patience wearing thin under the weight of cryptic words and enigmatic wisdom. He leaned forward, his tone edged with exasperation.

"Okay, cut the Mr. Miyagi act, would ya?"

Sam's warning glance in Dean's direction was met with a dismissive shrug. Meanwhile, Y/N remained absorbed in her own thoughts, her gaze locked onto Olivia and Emma as if their words held the key to unlocking her deepest mysteries.

In a moment of focused determination, Y/N's voice cut through the tension.

"Please, tell me whatever it is you know about me and my kind." Her words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of concerns and questions that had been building within her.

Olivia's calm nod acknowledged Y/N's plea and a subtle exchange of glances passed between the two women as if a silent understanding had been reached. Emma, rising from her seat, appeared to sense the need for a change of atmosphere. She turned to address Sam and Dean with a gentle smile.

"Maybe we should give them some space. I can show you guys the best place in town to get a burger and a place to stay."

Sam and Dean exchanged uncertain glances, their protective instincts warring with the recognition that Y/N needed this moment of connection. Slowly, they rose from their seats, a sense of reluctant agreement settling between them. As they stood, Dean couldn't help but cast one last glance back at Y/N, his worry etched in his expression.

Y/N's attention remained fixed on Olivia, her heart pounding as the anticipation of revelations swirled around her. The room seemed to expand with the absence of the Winchesters, leaving an intimate space for Y/N and the older woman who held the keys to her past and her potential.

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The diner's cozy ambiance provided a stark contrast to the weighty discussions taking place at Sam and Dean's table. As the brothers sat with Emma, they leaned in with keen interest, their anticipation palpable. Dean's impatience got the better of him as he posed his question, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and urgency. "So, you have this ability as well?"

Emma's smile was warm, but her response was tinged with a hint of regret. She shook her head gently, a wistful glint in her eyes. "Unfortunately not. The gift skipped me, but my mother has imparted all her knowledge and the wisdom passed down through generations."

Sam's analytical mind quickly caught onto a detail, prompting his brows to furrow. "Wait, so does that mean Olivia might be the last one with this ability?"

Emma's shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, her expression thoughtful. "There's a possibility that my future children could inherit the ability, but as things stand, there are no guarantees. I don't have any kids at the moment."

Dean's curiosity took the lead as he leaned forward, his voice laced with intrigue. "So, spill the beans. What can you tell us about our friend, Y/N?"

Emma's lips curled into a playful smirk, and she held Dean's gaze, considering her response. "Well, shouldn't you wait and find out from her directly?"

Dean huffed in mock annoyance, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, right. If there's even a whiff of trouble, she's off trying to save the day on her own."

Sam rolled his eyes, an affectionate smirk playing on his lips, as he recognized the familiar stubborn streak that ran in both Y/N and Dean. He chimed in, "You know us Winchesters, always ready to charge headfirst into danger."

Emma leaned back in her seat, her expression thoughtful as she exhaled a soft sigh."The history of this particular Kitsune is quite the tale."

“Her name is Y/N.” Sam would correct. “And we'd appreciate any insights you can share. Y/N's past, her abilities, anything that might help us understand."

Emma's gaze shifted between Sam and Dean, a sense of camaraderie forming among them.

"You're good friends, looking out for her like this."

Dean's shoulders relaxed as he exchanged a knowing glance with Sam.

"More like family," he admitted, the depth of their connection evident in his words.

Emma's mocking smile hung in the air like a challenge, her words carrying a hint of skepticism. "Family, huh? Tell me, what do you really know about Y/N already?"

Dean's jaw tensed, a ripple of irritation crossing his features at Emma's tone. He shifted in his sea. Sam, ever the mediator, cleared his throat and began to recount what they had learned so far. His voice was steady, his gaze locked with Emma's as he shared the details of Sano, Y/N's mother, and their knowledge within the pages of the last known Kitsune book.

Emma listened intently, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as Sam's words flowed. As he concluded, she nodded slowly, her expression contemplative.

"I see. Well, I can't say I'm surprised that's the extent of your knowledge. Our legacy was never meant to intertwine with yours. As Seers, our role has always been to watch, to observe from the shadows without interference."

"But your great-grandfather, Levi, he saw things differently?" Acknowledging the distinct paths their respective lineages had followed.

Emma's lips quirked into a rueful smile, a hint of pride underlying her response.

"Yes, he did. Levi believed that knowledge was meant to be shared, that the supernatural world held secrets that should be unveiled. He believed in breaking the barriers that had kept our worlds apart for so long. Of course, Levi's journey was one of both enlightenment and tragedy. He sought to bridge the gap between our two worlds, to share knowledge and understanding. But not everyone shared his vision. There were those who feared what he knew, what he might reveal." The weight of untold history settled over the table, the story of Levi Alexander, the Seer within the Men of Letters, echoing through the generations.

Emma's eyes now darkened with a heavy weight of sorrow and bitterness. Her gaze locked onto the Winchester brothers, her voice carrying a somber intensity. "Sano was one of those people. After he became a demon, a Prince of Hell, he unleashed a reign of terror upon anything he deemed unnatural. His ruthless massacres knew no bounds, and he operated without restraint. That's precisely why he was allowed to roam unchecked."

Dean's jaw clenched, his fists unconsciously balling up at his sides as he absorbed the gravity of Emma's words. Sam's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and empathy. This was the man who had haunted Y/N's every thought night and day.

Emma's voice continued, her tone sharp with a blend of frustration and pain. "But what Sano truly desired was a single little fox. And so, in his unrelenting pursuit, he began a campaign of terror, targeting Kitsunes across the world, without mercy or hesitation."

The weight of those words settled heavily in the air, the magnitude of Sano's ruthless mission echoing through the space. But there was more to the story, a darker layer that Emma hesitated to unveil. Her gaze held an almost haunted quality as she went on. "To obtain the knowledge he craved, Sano devised a sinister plan. He sought to capture Seers, my family. And Levi…" Emma's voice faltered for a moment, her gaze momentarily distant, "Levi refused to be a pawn in his wicked game."

A heavy silence hung in the room as the implications of Emma's revelation sank in. Levi Alexander, the visionary Seer, had taken his own life to prevent Sano from wielding his insight as a weapon. The sacrifice, the unimaginable choice, left a palpable ache in the hearts of those present.

Sam's voice broke through the silence, a mix of sympathy and admiration in his words as he clarified. "He took his own life to protect the knowledge, to prevent it from being used for evil."

Emma's eyes met Sam's, a fleeting glimmer of gratitude in her gaze. "Yes. Levi believed that knowledge was a gift to be shared, to bring understanding and unity. He could not bear the thought of his abilities being twisted into something so malevolent."

Dean's next words were harsh in truth, “But Levi had a kid with his same abilities?”

Emma nodded, “Yes and so my grandmother was hidden away so as not to be hunted down as well by Sano.

Emma continued to explain, her voice carrying the weight of a painful history. "But Levi's death didn't stop Sano's plans. With large amounts of Kitsune's being slaughtered something had to be done. It is said that an order was given for all Kitsunes to be recalled from Earth and the gates were sealed shut by Inari themselves. Since then, Kitsunes ceased to exist; the gates remain closed as long as Sano is loose."

Dean's frustration became evident, his voice growing more intense as he sought answers. "So what they just forgot Y/N?”

Emma met Dean's gaze squarely, her expression serious. "Not forgotten, no. She was left here as a deliberate choice. When Inari made the decision to close the gates, they hoped that leaving Y/N behind would keep Sano's attention focused on her, and away from our world. Eventually satisfying his wants."

Each word from Emma casts a darker shadow over their mission. Dean's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as his anger and frustration simmered beneath the surface. His voice was low and strained, a reflection of the turmoil within him, as he demanded, "You mean to tell me they abandoned her? That she's nothing more than a damn sacrifice?"

Sam's usually analytical mind seemed to stall, his thoughts a jumbled mess as he sat there, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions. His jaw tightened, his brows furrowed, and his eyes burned with a mixture of disbelief and anger. He was frozen, grappling with the enormity of what they had just learned.

Emma's response was unwavering, her gaze steady as she met Dean's fierce stare. "Yes, that is right." Emma sighed, “Though to be honest, it was probably for the best.”

Emma's words hung in the air, a tense silence settling over the table as her perspective clashed with the seething anger in Dean and Sam's eyes. The brothers' glares bore into her, a fiery intensity that could have scorched the very air around them. But it was Dean who could no longer contain his fury, his voice dripping with venom as he demanded, "Excuse me?"

Emma, undeterred by the Winchester brothers' anger, held her ground, her arms crossed defiantly. Her voice remained steady as she continued, "She is simply too dangerous to have around. Frankly, it seems Sano has been dragging his feet. If he had finished the job sooner then Inari's blessings would have returned by now and the world would just be in a better place."

Dean's restraint shattered in an instant. With a sudden surge of rage, he surged to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His fist crashed onto the table, the impact sending a jolt through the diner. "Listen here, you half-baked Bitch!" his words were laced with venom, his eyes locked onto Emma's, "I don't give two flying fucks about your legacy. You say another damn thing about her and you'll know what it's like to be personally hunted."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his emotions, as he turned on his heel and stormed out of the diner. Sam followed closely, his face a mask of silent fury, his resolve unwavering.

Sam's footsteps echoed heavily as he followed Dean out of the diner and toward the waiting Impala. The tension in the air was palpable, each step a testament to the storm of emotions raging within the Winchester brothers. As they settled into the car, Dean's grip on the steering wheel was unyielding, his knuckles stark against his skin.

Sam's voice was raw with frustration and concern as he questioned his brother, his eyes locked on the road ahead. "What's the plan?"

Dean's response was immediate and decisive, his focus unbroken even as he spoke. "We're grabbing Y/N and going home."

The Impala's engine roared to life, a growling symphony of power and determination. Dean's foot pressed down on the accelerator with a force that matched his resolve, causing the car to surge forward with a surge of urgency. The tires squealed as he pulled out of the parking lot, the sound a reflection of the emotions that churned within him.

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The midday sun cast long shadows over the quaint shopping district, painting the scene with hues of warmth that contrasted with the unease that gripped Dean and Sam. They emerged from the vibrant shop, their expressions etched with concern and uncertainty, their search for Y/N yielding no results.

Sam's voice was edged with frustration as he addressed Olivia, his brows furrowed in worry. "You don't know where she went? Did she say anything?"

Olivia's eyes held a mix of sympathy and regret as she shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, Sam. She needed some time alone after our talk. I could sense that it was a lot for her to take in."

Dean's jaw clenched as he exchanged a glance with Sam, their shared concern a silent pact between them. The absence of their friend gnawed at them, each moment without her amplifying their sense of urgency.

Dean's voice was laced with determination as he surveyed the surroundings, his eyes scanning the street bustling with shoppers. "Dammit, she keeps doing this. We need to find her, Sam."

Sam nodded, his gaze shifting from the passersby to his brother. "Yeah"

As the brothers stood beside the Impala, a sense of restlessness settled over them. The quaint town around them seemed to hum with activity. Y/N may have disappeared from their immediate sight, but the search for their friend had only just begun.

End Chapter

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 This is the Female Reader-Insert Version of my Story, please consider taking a look at the Original with my OFC Saia.

Please comment & 💜

#supernatural #fanfic #supernatural fanfic #castiel #Dean x OFC x Sam #dean winchester #Fluff #Sam Winchester #Hurt/Comfort #Reader-Insert #Illness #Self-Insert #Angst #Kitsune #injuries #Dean x Reader X Sam #crowley #spn #team free will

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sirwow · 1 year

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Part 3 to A New Light the first FK story, 2nd part can be found here.

Az n Laz begin their winter break after Laz helped Az barely pass his classes after not doing any work for 2 months. Laz insists on going to the flying park more but Az eventually snaps a bit at Laz saying he can’t or his dad who’s home for winter break would be absolutely pissed. This is news to Laz and asks why. Az explains how his dad had some drama and now he hates all scouts with a burning passion and if he knew Az wanted to be one it would ruin their already strained relationship. Laz tries to convince Az that’s not fair but Az just pushes it off and suggests going to the arcades instead. Az is obviously getting annoyed again so Laz agrees to.

Later in the month after Christmas, Az excitedly tells Laz of the up and coming Blue moon festival and if Laz was planning on coming this year. Laz clams up a bit and admits he’s never actually been much to Azazel’s surprise. Az takes this in stride though and convinces Laz to come with him for his very first time so they could do all the activities together. Lazarus is nervous when he gets inside and is a bit lost in the crowd but gets picked up quickly by Azazel to play carnival games together. While taking a small break together on a nearby perch and eating cotton candy together an announcement from the fair speakers announces in a crackled voice that the Flying Duos Derby was open for sign up and would start in 1 hour.

Once the announcement ends Az excitedly talks about the yearly duos derby to Laz and how even arc angel Michael would be in the first race and watch the rest. But once he remittances on when he was in the race he stops himself from mentioning who he raced with and just sighs mumbling about he guesses he just has to watch this year. Laz meekly speaks up though and suggests maybe he could be Azazel’s partner this year but says it’s okay if he doesn’t want to since he is so new to this whole scout thing. Azazel jumps at the idea though and pulls Laz across the festival to sign up for a duo’s slot. Lazarus and Az while waiting for the races to start practice a bit outside the fair but quickly becomes obvious Lazarus is shaking and nervous. Az stops when he notices and grabs him by the shoulders asking what’s the matter. Laz is shaken now that the crowd around the derby was growing so large and was scared he would screw up infront of everyone, setting in stone that he was weak as everyone tells him. Az shakes him out of it and encourages him he can never know if he never tries.

Both join up into the group around the makeshift flying stadium as Duke comes up to introduce Michael to the first race as the yearly guest. The first race begins with Michael going against The Lamb and Gabriel but wins as he does most years. Az n Laz are called aside as the elementary kids go out and begin to put on their gear. Laz gets the shakes again but elbows him with a smile to go through with it. Once they’re all lining up for the relay Laz gets bumped harshly by an annoyed Angel who starts to talk to Az. This is Cassiel and sneers at Azazel if his new fledgling friend is so much better that he could leave him behind. Az just tells Laz to ignore him and they all ready up to start the race.

Despite his nerves Lazarus pulls through during the race and during the last lap is in the lead. Cassiel behind him realizes this and his anger and jealousy takes him and kicks Lazarus out of the air and into the cold mud below. Whistles are blown and a moment after Cassiel takes pleasure in Lazarus’s flailing he’s quickly taken off by his dad Michael who’s rather embarrassed. Az flies down to Lazarus to help him out of the mud and make sure he’s alright. Laz says he’s ok but it’s clear he’s embarrassed and doing his best not to cry while covered in mud. Az takes him into the lockers to clean him off and save him from any more stares. Laz cleans off but doesn’t speak much outside of yes and no making Az rather anxious he screwed up convincing Laz into this. Luckily both are called out and surprised with the 1st place award as both had actually out lapped the other contestants during said race and were given the award as Cassiel and his brother were disqualified.

Laz’s mood was made much better after this and the two went to enjoy the festival feast. Laz notices someone watching from the shadows but when they made eye contact they ran off so Laz brushed it off. Az brings up Laz to a old building roof top near by to watch the fireworks after eating but once they begin something seems the matter with Lazarus. Too nervous to ask directly Az brings up the idea of seeing the Moonblooms near by and Laz quietly agrees.

Lazarus follows Azazel slowly to a large glowing field of flowers and both sit down and watch the bright blue moon and stars above. Az is still nervous as Laz is quiet as ever but before he can talk he realizes Lazarus is crying. He sits up and asks what’s the matter and Laz just breaks a bit, nervously laughing and saying sorry. Lazarus explains it was all just so much and he’s sorry for not talking before about it. Azazel says it’s alright but Laz also begins to explain what else was on his mind. The whole situation, especially hearing and seeing the fireworks just reminded him of all the times he sat from his house window watching from afar since he never had a parent or even his sister around to take him. His tears were a combination of joy and sadness that he was only now getting to experience this. Az comforts Laz the best he can and eventually promises Laz he’ll always be here to come with him and when Laz asks really Az promises. Laz hugs Az thanking him and both eventually stand up to head home for the night.

Wowza that was long but this is the last part of this story! Next up is Cain and fair warning it’s much much more intense then these two silly goobers. As usual questions about anything are always allowed, cheers!

#tboi #tboi au #forgotten keys #tboi lazarus #tboi azazel #tboi writing #heho my little silly best friends

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

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hello do you have any cherik fic recommendations where alex, hank, and sean are protective of charles? probably post-cuba setting :)) thank you and i love your blog <3

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. I do have a few fics where they're protective of Charles. I'm sure there are more out there and I'll add to the list if I'll find some more.

where alex, hank, and sean are protective of charles

What Can We Do Without You? – swoopswoop

Summary: Charles and the boys were holding onto a secret more dear to them than their own lives when Charles disappears into the night; Erik is betrayed and finds himself returning to Westchester in the hopes that the government was just trying to trick him. All the while the boys are stuck in the middle, left guarding the secret from the man they are most afraid of finding out who is weaselling his way back into their lives alarmingly easily.

Things We Didn’t Expect To Happen – swoopswoop

Summary: Charles is left on the beach, but he hadn't told Erik the entire truth of what he was leaving that day. 7 months later Azazel spots Charles and funs ensues when they move continets in an attempt to stop the truth coming out.

Rumor Has It – blueink13

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

It’s All Coming Back to Me – Reagan

Summary: When Erik hears that Charles died on the beach where he left him, there's only one thing left for him to do: take the world down with him as he crashes and burns in his grief. But maybe the world will get its reprieve before he goes too far.

How Still My Love – Regann

Summary: A mysterious sleeping disease, three loyal guardians, and a friend-turned-foe with unclear motives. It might sound like something out of a fairy tale but it's life after Cuba in the Xavier manor for what's left of the so-called X-Men. When Charles can no longer lead them, it's up to Hank, Alex and Sean to figure out a way to protect their mentor, especially once Erik comes seeking an audience. (Variously nicknamed "the Fairytale Fix-it," "Snow Charles and the Three Wishes," and "Alex feels via Charles/Erik." All three are pretty accurate.)

An Earlier Heaven – Reagan

Summary: In the wake of Cuba, Charles and his students are ready to pick up the pieces and work toward achieving Charles's dream of a safe haven for young mutants. Those plans, however, take a surprising turn thanks to a very unexpected complication. As he slowly builds a future for his students and for his child, Charles struggles with the loss of Erik and the secrets he's willing to keep to protect his family, but those strides are shattered when Erik makes a startling reappearance into his life. [mpreg, kidfic, ensemble]

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

#cherik #cherik fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #fic recs

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ruewrites · 3 years

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Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 11: Cracks in the Surface

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 4075

Warnings: None

A/N: We gettin closer to the coronation babyyyyyyy! As always, comments are appreciated! If you wanna reach out and talk or invade my inbox as well you are more than welcome to!

Solomon had never cooked by himself before.

Solomon had never been in a kitchen before.

When you were royalty you didn't need to cook for yourself, you had people to do it for you. So here he stood, in the kitchen, when no one else was around, staring down the vastness in front of him. He clapped his hands, illuminating the kitchen and grabbed the first pot he saw.

Cooking couldn't be that hard right? All you had to do was mix some things into a pot and hold them over a fire. Easy.

Rummaging through the cupboards and pantry was an interesting adventure. Solomon was familiar with some of the foods and spices, but others were completely foreign to him. He did manage to find the beef which he grabbed in two handfuls to throw into the pot. Surely that was enough right? Now that his hands were sufficiently covered in residue, he went towards the vegetables and spices.

Honestly, this cooking this was rather fun. Perhaps he could start doing it more often. It might give him more points with his new family. He could be alone with his thoughts and the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board below him.

Which reminded him, he needed to find a blacksmith. Surely there must be one in the main hub.

Solomon only added water when he realized that the food may burn after it sat in the pot for a while. It tasted fine from what he could tell, and he was contemplating eating some of the food when he heard someone come down the steps.

"What are you doing?" Asmodeus asked, gracefully descending the staircase into the kitchen, "It's so late."

"I could be asking you the same question," Solomon smiled, lifting a bit of his creation to his mouth with a ladle.

"I was actually on my way to see you, but I wanted to check to make sure Beel wasn't about to sneak anything from my wedding."

"Our wedding."

"You're acknowledging it's yours now?" Asmo's voice came out a bit shocked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Of course, it is ours is it not? As for what I'm doing, I figured I'd try my hand at cooking to earn a little more favor with your family," he turned back to the pot, stirring it a little more, and scratching along the bottom to unstick some of the food.

As he did so, Asmo's slender arms snaked around his waist and his head rested gently on his shoulder. It wasn't like his vice grip grasps in the past. Thus one was gentle and, dare Solomon say, fond. His old self would be surprised to see himself relaxing into Asmo. His old self would have never pictured him this comfortable in another's grasp.

"It is ours," Asmo said softly, gently squeezing Solomon's waist. Solomon found his free hand moving downward to squeeze one of Asmo's. Slowly he brought the ladle from his pot up to Asmo's mouth, and his pretty lips opened to accept his offer.

Then he started sputtering. Arms quickly let go of Solomon's waist as Asmo turned away from him.

Solomon turned quickly on his heel to pat Asmo's back, "Did you choke?"

Yes, it was a dumb question. He realized that as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course he was choking. Was he really that poor at social interactions? He was a scholar, a great king, an incredibly intelligent man, and all he could come up with was 'Are you choking?'.

Spoken like a true gentleman. One that fell face first down a mountain only to be attacked by wild beasts that is.

"No," Asmo weezed, "What the hell did you do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Solomon, darling, are you trying to poison my family?" he gestured towards the pot with disdain and attempted to right himself, "That is nowhere near edible! Did you eat that?"

Solomon blinked a few times, staring at Asmo as he pulled away, glaring up at him. He wasn't really sure how to respond. Surely it wasn't that bad. "I did, are you sure you're not overreacting a little bit?" he asked.

"Over-? No! Are you serious? You ate it?" Asmo gasped, grabbing at his arm, "I'm not even sure the meat is cooked through properly! Well now I'll have to stay with you for the night and take you to one of our healers!"

"But I feel fine," Solomon frowned, as Asmo tugged on him, "Why were you looking for me this late anyways?"

Asmo stopped for a moment before letting go of him in favor of cleaning out his pot instead. "Well, I was hoping I might be able to spend some time with you. I've heard your sleep schedule is terrible and I figured I could visit your chambers."

Solomon moved closer so that their bodies were inches from each other, "That still doesn't explain to me what you want."

"Well I couldn't sleep," his voice came out in a similar fashion as when Azazel spoke to him. It set off small alarms in his mind.

What had he gone through?

"And I figured that perhaps I could-?"

"Something tells me your brother wouldn't be too happy with that," Solomon said, leaning against the counter on the other side of him. Their rooming situation hadn't changed from when Solomon first arrived till now, and he figured with how protective Lucifer was of his brothers that it wouldn't until either after the two of them were joined or until Lucifer trusted him. The latter was a long shot and, at the moment, seemed like it would take more time than what Solomon possessed in a lifetime.

Asmodeus frowned. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to think of an excuse that might work, but the longer he thought about it the more he realized that he was right. "He wouldn't have to know," he tried to reason, "Diavolo might be able to talk him down."

"And if he can't?"

"Don't think about it."

Solomon could have laughed. Stubborn was a good word to describe Asmodeus. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't going to give up easily. In that way, the two of them were similar. He couldn't even be mad when he felt himself give in.

"Alright then," as he spoke, Asmo perked up, "What is it that you wanted to do?"

"I wanted you to hold me," Asmodeus responded quickly, "I just, want you to touch me, just for a little bit. So perhaps you could come back to my room with me?"

Asmo went to grab his hand once more and gently tugged him towards him. His fingers brushed against the silky, flowy fabric of Asmo's night attire.

Solomon allowed him to tug him towards the staircase and down into the caverns. Asmo's room wasn't what he'd been expecting. Flowers and vines neatly crawled up his bed and to his canopy. Moonlight seeped into the room, illuminating bits of the bed and the floor. He stripped himself of his shirt, realizing that it had gotten a little dirty in the process of his cooking adventures, and slung it over the chair in front of Asmo's bureau.

When he looked up, he saw that Asmo's eyes were on him, tracing every line on his body. "You have a lot of markings," he commented, lounging on his mattress. He shifted a bit as Solomon settled next to him and once more let Asmo pull him closer. "Do they mean anything?"

Solomon waited for Asmo to cling to him first before touching him. He probably wouldn't be heading back to his room tonight, not with the way Asmo was clinging to him. It was almost like he was afraid Solomon would disappear if he let go. So, he slung his arm over the smooth curve of Asmo's hip. "They're runes. Ones that I've found interesting from books I've read."

"There's so many of them."

Solomon shuddered as Asmo slowly traced along one of the inked paths. It reminded Solomon of how he traced the runes back in the cavern. His own hands wandered up and down Asmodeus' back and along his hip, encouraging him to snuggle closer.

Warmth.

It was the only thing he could think of. It spread from his core and along every spot Asmodeus touched him. He swore he was in some sort of trance.

"You're always so cold," Asmodeus murmured, "I don't understand why, you're always wearing long sleeves. I thought you'd be warm."

"You're always warm," Solomon yawned, "And soft. It's very calming." He felt Asmo's hands trail from his chest, over his shoulders, and to his back and his long lashes fluttered against him. He flushed, feeling a bit hotter than normal.

Crickets chirped outside and the occasional hoot of an owl resounded in the distance.

"This is nice," Asmo murmured.

It was nice.

***

"Did he say how long it would take to get done?"

Simeon and Luke had both accompanied him into town. Luke trotted behind, scurridly writing down time stamps and what had been done at those times.

"Hopefully not too long," Solomon twisted a ring on his finger, "I'd really like to get it to him as soon as I can. Before the coronation, preferably."

If the universe would have the smallest bit of pitty on him, he would be able to present Asmo with the gift under the stars a few nights from now. It would be a proper way to give it to him, and an acceptable form of an apology. He just needed things to go smoothly.

Simeon kept his stride, not even daring to fall behind him. He could feel him analyzing him, looking over his motions in order to come to a conclusion. "I think he'll enjoy it."

How did he always know?

"How are you holding up back there Luke?" Simeon turned his head to look at his apprentice.

"I would like to slow down, it's hard to write and walk!"

"And that is why you're practicing now."

Luke huffed under his breath and Simeon craned his neck to look over the notes. He always enjoyed seeing where he could offer praise and note where he could improve. Solomon realized that Simeon had been doing nearly the exact same thing to him here in Arcadia. Had he intended to coach Solomon on how to be a good husband?

Sneaky.

Solomon sat down on the steps of the palace, not quite ready to return inside. It had been a while since he just enjoyed the sunshine, and the weather was perfect. New days, new beginnings. It felt as if he’d had two new beginnings since being here, and he was sure these wouldn’t be his last.

Soft warm hands laid over his eyes, and soft breath caressed his ear, “Guess who.”

Luke made a retching noise as Solomon reached for his hands, “Asmodeus of course. Those hands would be hard to not recognize.”

Laughter surrounded him as Asmodeus moved to sit next to him. He set a few pictures down in his lap. Simeon patted his shoulder as he passed them. He wouldn’t stick around when Asmo came and take time away from the two of them bonding, especially not when they’d been getting along rather well recently.

“Mammon said he saw you heading out to the market this morning, so I waited for you to come back.”

Oh his smile was contagious.

“I wasn’t even aware he saw me,” Solomon said, not minding when Asmo decided to scoot a little closer, “What had you waiting for me to come back?”

“I’d always wait for you to come back,” Asmo leaned in and his soft lips brushed against Solomon’s cheek, “But, I did want to show you my attire for our wedding.” He fingered through the papers on his lap, pulling out one from the center of the pile. It wasn’t quite a suit, but it wasn’t a dress either. It was pretty, and Solomon caught himself slipping into thoughts of how lovely it would look on him.

“I based it off my mother’s dress, I remember that I used to love looking at it.” Solomon had never heard Asmo sound so whimsical. He was somewhere else, and Solomon wasn't entirely sure where he went.

"I've never heard you talk about your mother before."

Asmo's eyes lit up, "Oh she was wonderful. She's the one who taught me how to sing. Don't tell my brothers, but I think she was the best mother."

"You all had different mothers?"

"Well, for the most part. Lucifer and Satan shared one, she was the queen, and then the twins and Lilith shared one," Asmodeus traced his wedding attire as he spoke, carefully and ever so precisely, "I don't think any of them got along well, each of them wanted us to be father's favorite even if Lucifer was the crown prince. But they only stayed in our lives up to a certain point, if they hadn't died in childbirth."

Solomon remembered his mother and his father. They'd both done their jobs and molded him into the ruler he was supposed to be, but he hadn't been ripped from them by another person. "I'm sorry."

It was all he could say, and he hated it.

"It's nothing you had any control over. At least I have memories."

He'd been so excited to show Solomon his plans and to continue their planning, but now the mood was completely changed. With hesitant motions, Solomon reached over to touch his hands, "What do you remember?"

"Her voice," Asmo started, "And the way she held me when she sang me to sleep at night. I remember her taking me to see when the twins and Lilith were born. I remember her explaining that Belphie was sick. I used to always want to help take care of him, and I still do even if doesn't want much to do with me as of late. I also remember how she used to kiss my forehead and tell me how everything would be okay. That I was perfect, no matter what father said"

Asmo sunk into Solomon, looking down at his lap as they sat together. Asmo played with his hand, flipping it around in his own, training along his fingers, and squeezing. "I miss being touched like that, feeling safe in someone else's arms."

Was he meant to hear that? Solomon almost missed his words. Carefully, he slipped the papers out from under Asmo's hand and looked over the designs. "I bet she would have loved to see you in this. I didn't know her, but I think she'd be proud."

Asmodeus squeezed his hand a little tighter and it made Solomon relax. The words had felt awkward tumbling from his lips. But luckily it seemed like he'd said the right thing. "If yours looks this wonderful, I'm excited to see what mine will look like," he continued.

***

They weren't the only two scrambling to get preparations done. Servants were running inside and out decorating the palace for Lucifer's coronation, under Barbatos' watchful eye. He'd been seeing more and more of the crowned prince's stressed expression as he, Diavolo, and Azazel had been spending much of their time in the main hall. Azazel had assured him in passing that they would still have time for their regularly scheduled meetings, but they hadn't been lingering on Solomon's mind as of late.

He had other things to focus on.

He also had some internal things to sort out.

His opinions and feelings surrounding Asmodeus had started to change. That much was evident. Yes, he was still high energy and hard to keep up with at times, but he was also incredibly kind hearted. Solomon had always been physically attracted to him, that hadn’t changed. Something else had started to bubble up inside of him though. It was a feeling that was unfamiliar to him. It started in his core and spread up into his cheeks and made his chest tighten.

He didn’t dislike it, but it was a new feeling, one that reminded him of how Asmodeus felt.

“Mammon, sit still.” Azazel’s voice was harsh, but the sound of the wooden rod swishing at Mammon’s shins was harsher. He yelped and pulled his legs out of the way and straightened his posture. All of them had been lined up in the main hall. Despite having his own seat, Azazel was wandering up and down the row, eyeing up each of them. As soon as Mammon had been reprimanded, he couldn’t help but note how Levi had scrambled to fix his own posture. The room was tense, and Solomon was trying to keep his own composure.

Who would have known that a coronation rehearsal would be so intense. His coronation rehearsals hadn't been this strict. Then again, Solomon was also an only child.

Asmo’s fingers twitched as he stole glances towards him. Touch meant something to Asmo, and Solomon knew he wanted to touch him. If only he could indulge him in this moment.

“This coronation will be a momentous occasion. Not only will the crown be passed on to Lucifer, but it will also be the precursor to a new kingdom joining us. We are putting the end to an era, and entering a new age,” Azazel placed his hands on the back of Solomon’s chair, a wide grin spread across his face, “It’s a time for celebration. I think it’s also fair to say we could allow ourselves to loosen up a little.” His gaze glanced towards Belphegor and then to Asmodeus, his smile faltering, “But I expect you to look like the strong rulers you are, even if adjustments need to be made.”

Asmo flinched, but Azazel moved away from him and towards Belphegor, “This also meant that you shouldn’t wear your mourning attire. It’s a joyous occasion! Act like it.”

“Says you, I say when I’m done mourning.”

All eyes shifted down towards Belphegor, who was refusing to look at Azazel.

“Your father would want you to enjoy the moment.”

“My father is not the one I’m mourning,” he snapped, “Since all of you have forgotten, Lilith is still dead.” He threw a pointed look towards Asmodeus, “But I suppose I’m the only one who cares that our little sister is gone.”

Silence pierced the room. Lilith hadn’t been brought up all that much since Solomon had been there, and he hadn’t really brought it up. It was like glass, and every time her name had been mentioned, a long crack appeared in the smooth surface.

“Just like the youngest of the family to get hostile when he’s told that he can’t do what he wants,” Azazel’s tone was even but filled with venom. Each word had been punctuated.

A little bit of life flared into Belphie’s eyes as he stood up. Honestly it had been the most alive that Solomon had ever seen him. He stood face to face with his uncle for a moment, before turning briskly and leaving towards one of the corridors.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere where the memory of my sister won’t be insulted.”

The door slamming echoed through the room and ended the conversation. Beel went to follow but Azazel cut him off, “You’re not going anywhere. He can throw his temper tantrum on his own.”

“Actually, I think we should end here today. Productive practice will not come from a situation like this,” Lucifer stood and Diavolo followed, looking a bit more concerned, “We can continue tomorrow.”

Azazel nodded curtly, but Solomon could tell he was struggling to hold his tongue, “As you wish.”

Asmodeus also went to stand quickly, he’d been so focused on Belphie and Azazel’s confrontation, that he hadn’t noticed that Asmodeus had turned away. Solomon felt that he should have followed him, he wanted to follow him, but Azazel caught his shoulder.

“My brother wasn’t happy with them for a reason,” he growled, “Of course, they all have their little flaws, but I have no doubt they would have ruined the crown if they’d been allowed to interact with him too much. It only takes one bad egg to ruin the bunch.” His gaze wandered over towards Diavolo who tried to strike up a conversation with Asmodeus and a few of the remaining brothers to try and lighten the mood. Beel was missing.

“I told him the twins should have been separated as well, he would be so disappointed to see how soft his descendants are becoming. Hard work is going down the drain.” Solomon barely felt Azazel let go of him, and he almost didn’t realize that he left. He was standing alone from the group, he felt like a stranger again.

Until Diavolo looked at him. He offered him a smile and waved him over, and those feelings started to ebb away. He couldn’t help being drawn into the group with Diavolo’s charismatic smile.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time, it’s like the days didn’t even exist,” he said as Solomon took his place near Asmodeus.

Lucifer nodded in agreement, “Life had seemed to go rather quickly lately.”

“And all of your brothers are going to play their own parts,” Diavolo brought their attention towards Asmodeus, who seemed to perk up a bit from earlier, “And Asmo will be singing, just in case he hadn’t told you.”

“I was going to tell him,” Asmo hummed, “I just hadn’t found the right time yet.”

“And he hasn’t heard you sing yet,” Diavolo shot a look to Lucifer who nodded.

“You are correct, he hadn’t heard you sing Asmodeus.”

Solomon had never seen Lucifer look this calm this close up. He was almost afraid to ruin the moment by speaking. Perhaps Diavolo did have some sort of magical abilities, but he did admire their relationship.

Maybe it was possible for good things to happen in arrangements like this.

Maybe he’d been a little too pessimistic in his views.

His eyes shifted back towards Asmodeus, who was already looking to meet his eyes. A soft finger went to interlock with his own. “Look at you two, putting so much pressure on me.”

“Yeah, if ya flub up, you might lose your fiance and embarrass yourself in front of all sorts of people,” Mammon cut in, poking at Asmo’s nose.

“Oh puh-lease, you should be focused on making sure none of your golden decorations are dull. No one likes underwhelming decorations,” Asmo bounced back quickly. He was witty. Perhaps it came with the territory of growing up with so many siblings, but Solomon still liked it nonetheless. It was endearing, and added to the growing list of things that Solomon had started to enjoy about him.

“Oi! I make sure none of my babies are ever dull! You watch your tongue!”

“And my voice hadn’t failed me yet, so maybe you should watch yours.”

His mother had been a singer too.

Had he learned from her?

Or was it something he picked up to carry her with him.

Regardless, music must have been important to Asmo. Solomon was positive that he would sound perfect. If he had learned anything about his fiance in the time he’d spent here, it was that he strived to be perfect. After all, he’d done so much to garner Solomon’s attention, even when he hadn’t been there for him, even when he’d been terrible. He still promised Solomon perfection, promised that Solomon would fall in love with him.

Maybe he was right. Maybe Solomon was falling in love with him. From the way he went to cover his mouth when he laughed to the way his eyes crinkled upwards ever so slightly when he smiled. He had a wonderfully melodic laugh, one that Solomon could listen to for hours. He was witty in his responses and graceful in his motions.

He’d still hold him later when he asked. Solomon had seen how bothered he was during Azazel and Belphegor’s confrontation, and Solomon wouldn’t mind helping him take his mind off of the entire situation.

After all, he was trying to be better for Asmodeus, because he deserved better.

For the first time since coming to Arcadia, Solomon genuinely felt like he belonged.

For the first time in his entire life, Solomon thought that he might be falling in love.

#TaBoL #ruewrites #solodeus #dialuci #asmodeus x solomon #soloasmo #asmosolo #lucifer x diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me luke #obey me simeon #royalty!au #arranged marriage!au #slow burn

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azazelsconfessional · 3 years

Text

Event: Special Guests

"Uhm. . .I'm not certain what's the matter, but. . . ."

". . ." Azazel simply shakes his head. "All is well, Maria."

"Listen, Father Azazel, I--"

Azazel looks away from Gabriel and them, leaving the Archangel to flinch. Then she puffs up her cheeks in frustration. "A--"

The door to the church slams open, the sound echoing in the largely empty chapel.

"AAH!" Azazel was unsurprised, striding over to the laughing lion in the doorway.

“I’m hooome! And guess who I found and brought home with me!!”

"I heard Gabriel scream. Is everything alright, Father Azazel?" Azazel simply hugs him. Feeling something different about his affectionate greeting, Jacob hugs back, he and Arsalan looking concerned. "Azazel? I know we didn't startle you. . . ."

"Everything is fine." After a deep breath, Azazel allowed himself to calm down. It was hard to phase him, and even when it did happen it didn't last long. Last time, he got angry, this time he was a little sad. He pat Jacob's back, pulling away from him to smile as usual, although he couldn't see. "It's good to see you, Jacob. Welcome home."

"Hm. . . ." After a moment of evaluating, Jacob nods, then smiles back, deciding whatever happened must have passed. "Thank you. I'm happy to be home! You are all alright in there, right?"

"W-well. . . ." Gabriel looks at Azazel. He seems to have had returned to his usual mood. He even gave her a reassuring wink(much to her frustration--and relief.)

"Yeap! All good here! Jacob! Jacob!! You've missed so many of my shows!!" She flew over, Zabaniyya and Maria following her.

"Hahaha, I'm sorry, Gabriel. I won't be here long, but I'll try and make the next one."

"Everyone, please allow Lord Arsalan and Lord Jacob into the building before greeting them."

"Wahaha, you know us, Zabaniyya! We're always on our feet! This is nothing!"

"He's right--if nothing else we made extra servings of dinner at Father Azazel's rather cryptic instruction, and I'm certain you'd like to eat?"

"I'll never say no to home cooking!" Jacob laughs cheerfully. Maria smiles as everyone makes way to allow them to actually come inside the church, Arsalan closing the doors behind them, allowing Jacob to freely navigate from memory.

"Haha, I could eat, certainly!"

"Good! So, please, get cleaned up while I make sure everything is--" Arsalan and Jacob both take this instruction to start to remove their clothes, knowing they'll need to be cleaned as much as their own bodies. Gabriel, Maria, and Zabaniyya begin to panic, holding onto the dirtied and oiled fabrics to keep them dressed. "Not right this second! Not here!!"

"Guys, you are BARELY in the door!! Don't get naked here!! Why are you always like this!?"

"Lord Arsalan, Lord Jacob, if only for the Sisters' sake--!"

"Oh! I forgot. I apologize."

"Honestly. It's hardly anything new to any of you. Right, Azazel? We aren’t even doing anything."

"As little as I mind, you should get changed in a more private location. Surely you both remember the way."

Arsalan sighs, defeated by majority, and ushered through the sanctuary and into the back halls of the living area.

It seems like the whole of the Missionaries' upper echelon are in one place for the time being. . .or, they will be once the returning parties have showered and changed.

#long post #event | special guests #((in retrospect they all live here (except jacob)))#((maybe i should call this event 'normal guests' lol))#((or 'special residents' lolol))#((i have no clue how to write jacob so. bear with me lol))#((but i want him to be here because i love him so i'll just have to figure it out along the way))#((OKAY NOW THAT I'VE FINISHED PUTTING ICONS TOGETHER FOR THIS. BACK TO REGULAR ASKS))#((i should really start using my queue))

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

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Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Three: Budding Relationships

AN: Each chapter I post I gain more and more readers, and I thank you all!

Word Count: 3.7k

Trigger Warnings: violence, mention of hate crimes

Chapter Four: Enter Sebastian Shaw

Today we had the day off, since the teenagers proved to Charles and Erik they were not prepared to go along with them to ambush Shaw. So, I was once again approved as being the babysitter while Charles, Erik, and Moira go to Russia. I shook my head and chuckled at Erik's and I conversation before he left with Charles and Moira.

Erik laughed mockingly and clapped his hands together, "Are you sure you want her as a babysitter Charles? She did such a horrible job last time,"

Irritation filled me, and I glared daggers at him "Careful, Erik," I said with mock sweetness. "Or you'll find yourself crying like a spoiled two year old," I threatened.

He grinned boyishly despite my threat.

I was currently sitting on the couch with the others in an identical hangout room with another book in my hand. Except this one had a pinball machine, and overlooked a statueless courtyard. Plus, this room had all its windows. Angel, Hank, Raven, Sean, and I were all sitting on the leather couches. Honestly, it didn't surprise me when Sean sat with the girls and I, he just wouldn't give up. Alex and Darwin were playing on the pinball machines, and Alex was beating him rather badly.

"Jesus man, you are KILLING me." Darwin complained, as Alex focused intently at the pinball machine.

"Don't beat yourself up, I had a lot of spare time,"

Alex's last remark confused me. Hank had said that he'd been in prison for the last four years, and I don't think they gave their prisoners meaningless arcade machines. The thought quickly leaves my mind as I heard two CIA agents talking loudly.

"Oh, I didn't know the circus was in town!" an arrogant CIA agent caught my attention. "Hey, come on honey, give us a little uh..." doing a terrible impression of Angel's wings, I could hear her mutter 'no' under her breath, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "No? Come on, let's see the foot," the agent jeered.

I could feel the anger starting to rise up inside of me, as I felt the happiness in the room subsided. Hank got up and walked to the button that closes the curtains.

"There it is, come on Big Foot. Let's go," Hank saluted the man mockingly, as the curtains closed."Hey, come on. Hey!" As Hank sat back down, the room fell silent, except the soft pinging of the pinball machine.

"They're just guys being stupid," Raven comforted, just realizing how much this actually upset Angel.

"Guys being stupid I can handle. Okay, I've handled that my whole life!" she snapped. "But I'd rather a bunch of guys stare at me with my clothes off than the way these ones stare at me!" Angel snapped again, disheartening Raven, who still wasn't completely over last night's events.

More silence.

"At us," Raven added sadly, Angel turned away guiltily, for lashing out on Raven, but there was no way she was going to apologize for it.

A flood of self-consciousness and self-loathing assaulted me, I tried to focus on my physical surroundings, rooting my thoughts enough to sort out my emotions and bring them under control. My hands balled into fists, my entire body tense. I brought my hand to my temple and massaged it with two fingers in an attempt to ease the pain.

Raven's soft voice called across from me, "Sorry, Claudia. Did we bother you?"

"Bother her?" Angel scoffed, voice dripping with attitude. "How could we have bothered her? She has an invisible mutation, no one could ever bother her,"

I forced a smile. Her attitude was merely an obnoxious mask for her fragile heart. I set my copy down of Jane Erye onto the table.

"You're right, Angel. The only thing I have to be bothered about is people wanting to see me swing from a tree," I quipped darkly. "And you know, gaining basic civil rights," I added, my eyes narrowed slightly.

Our bitter conversation is brought to an end by the abrupt sound of a thud coming from outside. We stared at each other in confusion before I stood up, sensing danger. We stayed still for a moment, listening to the thuds, there's silence and then there's a whooshing sound.

"This doesn't feel right," Darwin muttered, before striding over to the curtains and pressing the button to open them. Alex gives the pinball machine one last flick and then followed him. Outside, there was nothing. We gathered around the clear, glass window looked at each other, confused. I waited tersely, my eyes darting back and forth.

"Do you sense something, Claudia?" Raven asked.

"Something's wrong," I whispered, but only Raven heard me. She shot me a curious glance, but was stopped from saying anything by Alex.

"What is that?" Alex demanded, pointing at the black figures blocking the light of the moon.

The light made it only a silhouette, preventing us from seeing what it truly was, all we could see that a silhouette was holding up another silhouette.

And then it isn't.

I cried out in pain as I felt the fear and pain of a man dying strong in my mind. I tried to relax the man, but he was already dead. Just as I opened my eyes, a body came crumbling down to the ground and smashing instantly right in front of the window causing causing all of us to jump back in surprise. I let out a gasp as Angel and Raven let out a scream in horror, clutching tightly onto my arm. I heard more screams and felt more pain as more men started to fall from the sky.

Suddenly, the roof lights flickered on, the sky is littered with falling bodies crashing in various sights around the buildings, the sound of screams and smashing glass, filling our ears. Guards rushed out of the buildings, positioning themselves surrounding the window, blocking us from harms way. They signaled for us to move out of the way, as more attacks proceeded. I searched for the mind that kept killing the CIA agents, but couldn't seem to keep a right mind. Raven let out another scream as an agent tumbled from the sky and into the glass roof outside

Terror filled the room, seeping into my every pore.

"Get back! Get back! Do not leave that room, we are under attack!" A man without a gun shouted.

In a flash of flames, the red man dressed well in a suit appeared in a puff of smoke and we all screamed for the agents to turn around. Taking them by surprise. The guards taking a few moments for it to register before beginning to shoot at him. It was too late, he was gone.

The glass shattered as a bullet hit the window, and we rushed to duck behind the sofa, screams filled my ears. Darwin stood closest to the edge, his arms stretched out to shield us from the oncoming storm. A tornado appeared, swiftly making it's way around the other side of the building, ripping apart what Hank had called 'Cerebro'. I didn't want to watch Hank's pained expression, when he saw his hard work torn away, but I could feel Hank radiating sadness and frustration.

"Stay here, my ass!" Darwin shouted to us, making his way towards the door. Running out into the corridor, we were stopped by some more guards.

"GET BACK!" the agents screamed at us.

"We can help! We can help!" Darwin tried to plead, but we're just pushed back.

Deep down, I knew Darwin realized that we couldn't.

Raven's hysterical, a complete mess. I managed to calm her emotions down with my empathic powers, but she somehow overruled that and became anxious once more. A wave of heat hits me, followed by an immense explosion. Raven screamed as agents are sucked into the flames, and we run back to where we were. Met with more destruction, back into the room, the tornado was moving closer and most of the guards were dead, falling down, one by one. Raven sobbed louder and screamed again when an agent is launched through the only remaining window by the hurricane. I can't be the only person to notice that we've completely backed ourselves into a corner.

The red man stabbed the last agent and Raven whimpered. A good looking Spanish man and the one that closely resembled most people's portrayal of the devil, stepped over the window, entering the room, one on each side. We were closed in.

Someone fired another shot and Raven screamed again.

"Wait, wait! You want the mutants? They're right through that door! Just let us normal people go! We're no threa-" a muffled voice is cut off and Raven's face changed into one of disgust.

A helmeted man, who was easily in his forties, walked through the door. To be honest, he looked kind of stupid.

"Where is the telepath?" The man in the helmet asked, as if it were no big deal that they just killed hundreds of men.

"Not here," The devil looking man noted, you could tell who was in charge there and it definitely wasn't him.

"Too bad," The other man smiled. "Well, at least I can taking this silly thing off," he stated, pulling the helmet off and ran his fingers through his long hair, pushing it back into its place.

At least we agree on something, he does look entirely silly.

But how would that helmet protect his thoughts from a telepath like Charles? No one in the room could read his mind, but I could read his emotions and I knew that he was bad news, there was a danger radiating from him, anyone could feel that. My mind filled with the echoes of his thoughts tied to one specific emotion. Hatred. War, survival, the strongest race. He was thinking of things beyond what we were anticipating.

"Good evening," he addressed us. "My name's Sebastian Shaw. And I am not here to hurt you,"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "Liar. Your little sidekicks just murdered a fleet of CIA agents," I thought.

A lone agent appeared across the courtyard.

"Freeze!"

"Azazel?" Shaw lazily ordered

He disappeared, appearing again outside, swiftly killing the man and teleported back.

Shaw turned back to us, "My friends," He took another step towards us, handing his helmet to the Spanish man. "There's a revolution coming, when mankind discovers who we are, what we can do. Each of us will face a choice: be enslaved, or rise up to rule," His eyes lingered on me for longer than I would have liked. But Shaw was not done yet. "Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us then you are, by definition, against us,"

"So. You can stay, fight for the people that hate and fear you. Or, you can join me, and live like kings," he looked to the boys, none of them attempting to make a move. Then he looked to Angel, standing in front of me. "And queens," He holds his hand out to her and Angel took it with almost no hesitation. I couldn't help sending her a look of pure disgust.

"Angel..." Raven's voice dropped in disappointment, although I didn't particularly like her, it didn't mean I wanted this to happen.

"You kidding me?" Sean's face dropped, he enjoyed flirting with Angel the most, but I never imagined he would be this crushed.

Angel looked back at us, "Come on," she commanded, gesturing towards us. "We don't belong here and that's nothing to be ashamed of,"

Darwin reached out to her, but Angel turned away, ignoring us.

"We have to do something," Raven insisted.

Alex and Darwin exchange a few harsh whispers. Alex pushed Darwin in the side and Darwin turned away.

"Stop. I'm coming with you," Darwin announced, stepping over what was left of the window. Angel smiled, clearly pleased someone had listened to her speech, even Shaw seemed momentarily pleased.

I watched in disbelief as Darwin moved towards the line of mutants. Shaw stepped towards him.

"Good choice. So tell me about your mutation," He said slyly.

"Well I adapt to survive," Darwin explained, Alex lead us into the center of the room. "So I guess that means I'm coming with you," Darwin finished.

Shaw nodded, "I like that," Shaw signaled for him to join Angel and Darwin stood next to Angel.

"ALEX!" Darwin yelled, forming a rock solid barrier and dipping Angel to protect her.

"Get down!" Alex shouted, shoving us out of harms way, sending rings of energy, launching at Shaw, Alex grinned momentarily before his face dropped.

We watched in horror as Shaw had somehow absorbed his energy. I raised my hand to send a telekinetic blast towards Shaw and that's when everything else became a blur, and before I knew it Azazel vanished, and appeared right in front of me within a blink an eye. His tail wrapped around my throat, I yelped lightly when my feet left the floor, kicking out blindly, but my five five frame wasn't really doing anything to stop this man who was nearly a foot taller than I was. I clawed at his tail so air could fill my lungs again, but it was a futile effort as he only tightened his grip

"Protecting your fellow mutants? That's a noble gesture," He shivered slightly, who wouldn't after absorbing that much power. Darwin got up, confused, and Angel moved back towards the Spanish man. "Feels good," Shaw shrugged his shoulders a little and let out a smirk.

"Azazel drop her," Azazel did as he was command, air filled my lungs but only momentarily. As soon as Azazel dropped me, Shaw's hand clasped around my neck, and brought me up off of my feet. I gagged on his choking grasp, my hands once again trying to claw it off my neck. "Now who's this?" Shaw wondered aloud a small sinister smile on his lips, his eyes scanning my body over.

The very air that he gave off was dangerous and intimidating. I mean that was obvious when he first walked through the doors, but it was made all the more clearer now that I was only inches from his face.

It was his eyes. Those eyes that looked right through me and held no warmth.

"Her name is Claudia," Angel spoke up. If Shaw wasn't choking the life out of me right now I would be livid with Angel telling him my name and for betraying us. "She can manipulate emotions, she could come with us," Angel suggested, with a rather large smile on her face.

"Yes, she could," Shaw agreed, nodding his head. "With your abilities, I'm sure you'll be very valuable to us. Your power is very interesting, Claudia," Shaw stated, and a shiver went down my spine when he said my name.

"No...it's not," I managed to utter out.

"Oh to me it is," Shaw disagreed, a menacing smile on his face. "With your abilities, I'm sure we'll be able to control anyone at will. We'll make an army. We'll be unstop-"

"No!" I hissed.

"What?"

"Go...to...hell!" I wheezed out.

"Hmm, it's too bad really, a beautiful woman like you..I saw so much potential in you," Shaw snarled gleefully, then swung his free hand, as it connected to the right side of my face, some of the energy from Alex's power thrown with it, causing me to see stars on impact. He threw me into the wall, my limp body collided with the drywall.

The room seemed to fade, leaving stars in my eyes and I felt my adrenaline crash, but surprising felt more energy than I ever had before.

Shaw turned sharply to Darwin. Darwin goes to throw a punch, but is quickly blocked. Shaw grabbed his mouth. "Adapt to this," Shaw whispered, and we watch, horrified expressions on our faces, as he puts all of Alex's energy into Darwin's mouth.

I watched as darkness slowly crept into my vision as Shaw, Azazel, the Spanish man, and Angel disappeared into a burst of flames. That's when I see Darwin standing there, convulsing.

Darwin tried to find different ways to adapt, but Alex's power was able to destroy the barrier. I watched him turn to platinum, then rock as the plasma burnt within, the orange-red glow peeking out of the rock like lava until he turned to solid rock. Then he realized it just wasn't going to work. He faced Alex and the rest of us, the blonde's eyes widened with terror, as he watched his new friend slowly die. Darwin looked over at Alex with black eyes, as he reached out, wordlessly and the stone started to break apart again. Then the cracks of Darwin's form brightened, and he exploded into only bits and pieces.

And just like that, he was gone forever.

Everyone all stood for a few moments in silence. Then the whole cataclysm sunk in, and everyone began scrambling around. Hank ran out the door saying he was going to find a first aid kit for me, Sean and Raven took baby steps towards where Darwin had diminished, and Alex rushed over to me, examining me. I already felt my face was swelling black and blue, a little shadow of blood remained under my head.

My vision was almost completed darkened, but my eyes met Alex's and in that instant, I knew how much he was hurting. He practically killed a man. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Alex spoke.

"H-He's gone. I k-k- I-I kill-killed him," Alex stuttered, his expression full of devastation.

"No, you didn't," I whispered, feeling even more drained as the seconds passed. "Trust me,"

"Claudia!"

I heard someone yell. But I couldn't tell who it was, for I slipped into unconsciousness and let the darkness envelope me before the person could call my name again.

~~~x~~~

When I awoke my body was no longer on the cold, hard ground of the rec room, but instead on the lumpy mattress I've become used to. Someone must have carried me. I managed to sit up a little less than an inch before my head started spinning and pain shot through my spine causing me to lie back down and gasp loudly.

Pain.

It's a slightly indescribable sensation; all one can really use is a mix of adjectives and synonyms, and even then one couldn't fully describe what they were feeling. Just what the pain feels like, using personifications and such. Right now, I felt like someone had beaten the tar out of me, which is what exactly happened. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to blink, it even hurt to think of even possibly moving again. I couldn't open my eyes, as they were held close with hard crust. I tried to push them open, but could only pry open my left eye, as the more I pushed myself in opening the right one, the more it hurt.

My brown orb peered around the room, my vision was still blurry. It was two o'clock in the morning if I read the time right. It had been fours hours since Darwin's death.

A tear rolled down my cheek, wiping it away. I couldn't tell if it was on my own volition or if I was just channeling everyone's emotions. I didn't want to cry, but I could no longer control it, when tears kept effortlessly sliding down my face. I looked through my tears, and I knew I wouldn't be sleeping for the rest of the night. I touched my head lightly, as I felt a long bandage wrapped around it. It was so sore, and gave little jolts of pain every time I picked up on someone's feelings.

I slowly slid out of the comforts of a bed that wasn't truly mine and let short, loud cry of pain as I moved. I stood up too quickly and a wave of dizziness hit me like a truck, causing me to plop back down onto the bed until it passed. I pushed myself up off the bed again and trudged to the door and into the hallway, I was put in a room at the end of the corridor that seemed to remain untouched by the events, I realized nobody would dare go back to our old rooms, they were just rubble and dust.

It was everywhere. The scent of burned flesh made my stomach turn, and the smoke stung my eyes. I felt sick to my stomach, but there was nothing to vomit. I could feel sweat trickle down the back of my neck, mixing painfully with the open wounds there, but I didn't close my eyes. My stomach was twisted into knots, and it was all I could do not to break down and cry. The pain from everyone else was what was kill me.

Fear. Anger. Despair. Disgust. Malice. Painpainpainpainpain-

I threw myself against the cold, concrete wall in effort to keep myself upright and placed my overheated forehead on the wall to ground me. I breathed deeply, my chest heaving and summoned up what little strength I had to push on.

I wandered more and I found an abandoned bathroom with shattered mirrors and glass coating the ground. I lingered in the doorway, not wanting to take the chance that I might cut my feet open on the shattered fragments. But one of the mirrors was intact, except for a slight, thin crack in the upper right hand corner. It was across from me and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. That in itself wasn't unusual, but it wasn't my face that stared back at me.

My hair was limp black and my eye a dull, muddy color. I stepped closer to the mirror, forgetting about the damned glass. And dear Lord, my face. I looked paler than usual and exhausted, worn out. Not to mention a god damn black eye.

I raked my fingers through my black hair to sort out the tangles, letting out a huff of air, a sardonic laugh escaped from lips.

"This is what I left the comforts of New York for? Death and destruction?"

Chapter Five: A Place to Call Home

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

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danieyells · 3 years

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Events(or even gachas I guess) I'd love to see:

The Seven Lucky Gods in one event(or even just the ones we have so far. . .the fact that Daikoku knows and associated with Benten and Ebisu at one point in their existence is completely worthy of acknowledging imo like pls. They're such different people. I wanna see them interact. Daikoku calls a temporary truce or spends the whole time trying to kill/subdue MC(who, as usual, is either uncomfortable, angry(which may or may not come in the form of flirtatious threats in a fight for dominance), or takes it so in stride even Daikoku couldn't keep up. . .he's never really met someone who wanted him to step on them before. . .oh and you want to lick his shoes? What a well behaved brat you are. . . .) and Benten just "could you knock it off with your creepy domeneering foot fetish until we get back to Tokyo please omg you're always like this." I don't know what they'd do together because I don't know them as well yet but just the fact that they have such different characters so far makes me want to see them all together.

Oops All Angels/Oops All Demons/The Sliding Scale Of Eden, which would be an angel/demon/Eden & Gehenna centric thing ofc. By which I mean GIVE US MORE MISSIONARIES I WANNA SEE THE MISSIONARIES-- I mean yeah biblical narrative and christian mythology is pretty well known but I like seeing how everyone feels about things and each other--like that Sitri saw Seth and thought he was Bael and when he realized he wasn't Bael he kinda started shittalking Bael kdbshdidj and how Lucifuge and Bathym both worked with Shaytan but Bathym was I guess closer because Lucifuge is afraid of fire--and where does Mephistopheles come in there? And I feel like we don't really know the angels' feelings towards one another and haven't seen them interact--Gabriel calls Azazel a snake(which is true, literally,) but she was also talking about wanting to touch the tails of Therians so I'm sure what she meant was "he let me touch his tail and did not hide the Consiquences of Touching A Therian's Sensitive Tail and I somehow didn't expect that and was Understandably Very Uncomfortable" so I don't know if that means she doesn't like him or if she was just being pouty over deciding she really shouldn't ask to touch his tail. At the same time I knoe this is probably VERY far off. Because MC already has the Ring of Solomon and we've had the 72 Pillars of Solomon mentioned and the demons' positions in the heirchy and [CHAPTER 11 SPOILERS:] MC is gonna have to reach/summon the Exception Solomon[/CHAPTER 11 SPOILERS] so. That's probably too close to Story Content for us to get too much of an event out of it yet. Plus there's Michael and I'm sure he'd be kicking and screaming as he's dragged through shenanigans in an event under the current circumstances, but could we really do an angel event without him now that he's there?

Literally anything with Bora Bora. And Babel. And. Just. Not that I dislike or am truly mad about it, but didn't the game introduce a world that's no longer in the Game and no longer connected to Tokyo before expanding on several of the worlds we already have? Babel only has Marduk, even. Ofc idk much about the mytholigies of Polynesia(you'd think I'd remember more, I read about them a bit back when Pokemon SuMo came out) or Babylon or Mesopotamia to say there's so much more to add but. There's never just one legend and one character and one story in a mythology. And Polynesian mythology is different in every area too isn't it? Even gods that they have in Hawaii are a bit different for the Maori, for example, I'm pretty sure--if only in name. There's so much that could be explored. I understand leaning on what's closest to you--hence why we have so many characters from mythology in Japan and nearby countries--but I'd also like to see others developed more lol

We've had an event centered around ogres/oni, an angel/demon event would probably have too many spoilers in it for the time being, we had the little bull-cebtric sort of mini New Years event, but I'd love to see more species-related ones like that too. Other 'characters with X in common' events could be fun too--dragons/lizards and the dragonkillers, for example. One Big Pile Of Kitties which is just feline Therians and friends all together. Maybe in Namjatown in Ikebukuro--which means Nomad gets dragged in as he kicks and screams that he is NOT a tiger!!! and Snow and Macan are like yeah sure we know but also this is Ikebukuro and Claude is paying you, to which Nomad just goes FUCK but I need the money so I'll deal. Maybe a mini extension of Year of the Guardian Dog where Agyo, since he insists he's a lion, wants to know more about how lions live in Tokyo, so MC once again runs around with him to introduce him to any lions they know(somehow this includes Oz shh don't ask questions) and Agyo's like "so many lions are big strong guardian lions too. . .I've gotta step up my game!" lol (Claude: oh so you have a guardian lion too? Shall we make them fight? Agyo: NO NO PLEASE NO NO THANK YOU I WOULD LITERALLY DIE?????)

Exiles' Lovers Valentine's Event where characters who were the lovers of/in love with/loved by the Exiles within MC squabble over them or something silly like that. Alternatively, put everyone who's expressed the strongest attractions to MC in one event. MC has to protect Shiro from them because he's probably the weakest link there--

Our World Is Gone So Let's Meet Up In Tokyo - Old Ones event(maybe there'd be a second one for other worlds that get destroyed like Yggdrasil. LET GARMR MEET HIS FRIENDS AGAIN.) Maybe a New Years event, but I'd love to see all the Old Ones we have so far in one place, assuming there isn't an in-game explanation that they can't be. Tsathoggua is convinced out on the basis of food more than out of a desire to see any of them(MAYBE to game with Tindalos and Azathoth in person. Canct play the classics online!). Snow and Claude tentatively let Cthugha out of his cell for a while(the event is implied to have had caused several repeats due to Cthugha explosions.) I haven't read Nightglows yet so idk where Nodens is at atm but he'd be there because I say so. Dagon obviously goes(he's probably the most social of the bunch aside from Nyarl--and Father Dagon is curious about his family too!). Shiro tentatively lends his body to Yog-Sothoth because "it's important to be with your family now and then if you have them!!!" much to Yog-Sothoth's eyerolling, and MC goes because either it was insisted on that they belonged there("You know I'm not. . .whoever you think I am, right? Okay. . . . .") or to make sure Shiro's body doesn't collapse under the strain or get involved in some sort of nonsense(he doesn't expect Yog-Sothoth to do anything crazy, he's been pretty unenthusiastic about everything so far, but you never know with these guys.) They keep calling MC this name they can't hear for some reason which isn't any better than when everyone calls them names they can hear really--in fact it feels a lot worse, like, Please Stop Saying Whatever You're Saying I've Started Taking Psychic Damage worse. MC makes a lot of comments about the sheer quantity of tentacles in the gathering my god(s) they are everywhere they've seen enough hentai and been around Dagon enough to know where this is going--

In the same vein, if we ever get more El Dorado characters, Xolotl wants to go to the Annual El Dorado Meetup or something similar but he's scared and brings Quetza--I mean MC with him as moral support. Understandably they get caught up in everyone going "omg gods", especially after Tezcatlipoca tackles MC to the ground at Mach 7 from 20 miles away when he heard they'd come along and accompanies them the rest of the event, assuming he doesn't pick them up and carry them away from Xolotl, who has to muster up the courage to follow after and get MC back since he brought them here to begin with. Only to find MC pacified Tezcatlipoca somehow and they ran into Itzamna and they're painting their feelings or something. Maybe the event also features a sacrificing and MC is like UH NO WE CAN'T HAVE YOU COMITTING MURDER IN TOKYO JUST BECAUSE IT'S OKAY BACK HOME PLEASE STOP lmao

. . .just silly thoughts. I've definitely had more ideas, but they're not coming to me rn.

#danie yells at tokyo afterschool summoners #long post #just silly thoughts. events sre the best.

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hailtothepumpkinqueen · 3 years

Text

It was quiet in the house.

Well, as quiet as it could be for Jacqueline with the voices of the restless dead constantly harassing her. So she was surprised to see Azazel standing there, dressed to the nines and holding a single red rose, when she descended the staircase.

“Doll, we need to talk,” he said, extending the rose to her. She took it gingerly, mindful of the thorns, trying to ignore the cold spike of anxiety in her stomach.

“Well, that's ominous,” she tried to joke, looking past him into the room behind him. “Are the others here? Why is it so quiet?”

Azazel's face twitched in annoyance for a moment before smoothing into a smile.

“They took Romulus on a walk in the woods. Probably won't be back for a few hours. They're not important anyway, this is between you and me.”

“Oookaaay?” This only heightened the anxiety gnawing at her gut. She hated it when he decided to be cryptic.

He took a deep breath, took her hand in his and pulled her close.

“Jacqueline...I love you.”

She could almost feel her brain blue screen. Jacqueline.exe has crashed. Does not compute. Those words made sense individually, but not in that sequence. She blinked. And then she snorted.

“Hah hah. Very funny.” She grinned and pushed him away, looking around the room again. “This is for a video, isn't it? Where are the cameras? Did you rope the old man and Red into this? Where are they really?”

Azazel grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him, this time close enough that their bodies were flush against each other.

“I'm being serious. I'm in love with you, Doll. I have been for ages.”

“Wow. You sounded much more convincing the second time. I almost believed you were...” She trailed off as she looked up at his expression, the actual gravity of the situation beginning to dawn on her.

Again she pushed him away, shaking her head and taking a step back.

“No. No no no no no. You are NOT being serious. Fuck you, you are not being serious.” Her voice came out a little more aggressive than she intended, but it didn't matter to her in the moment. “You may THINK you love me, but you only seem to 'love' the version of me that's fun and convenient for you.”

Now she was taking the offensive, striding forward and jamming an accusatory finger into his chest.

“You think you can only love someone when they're at their best? That you can just fuck off when they're having a shit time?? O-o-or what?? Did you think you saying you 'love' me would magically fix me like this is some fuckin' movie? FUCK you! You don't love anyone but your fucking self!”

Faster than she could blink, Azazel was suddenly in her face again, snarling and pushing her back until she was pressed against the wall. He was gripping her arm tightly, tight enough to bruise, pulling her forward before slamming her back against the wall. For the first time since she had known him, his usually yellow eye was a burning red.

“All the shit you put me through, and think you can talk to me like that??” He snapped, jostling her like she was a rag doll. “All the pain you put me through??”

“Azazel, you're hurting me...” She tried to pry his fingers off her arm, suddenly very, very aware of how much bigger he was than her. But it only made him grip tighter.

“Not as much as you've hurt me.” His voice dropped to an almost threatening growl, leaning down so that their noses touched. “ Do you know how much it hurts me when you reject my advances? When you prefer to spend your time in some stranger's arms than mine? That fucking Ira gets to sleep in your bed when I'm barely allowed in your room?? Do you know how much loving you hurts me??”

“Let go of my arm, Azazel..”

“No. Not until you LISTEN to me and admit that you're just playing hard to get.” He slammed her into the wall again, this time making the back of her head collide with it. “Not until you admit that you love me, too!”

“I said let GO!”

She pushed against his chest and a sudden burst of dark energy flared from her hand. Enough force to push him back a foot or so. Leaving both of them standing there in shock for a moment before Azazel composed himself.

“So that's how you wanna be, huh? You think anyone else is gonna love you?” He threw his head back and let out a sarcastic laugh. “You're out of your mind if you think anyone is going to put up with your little tantrums! Not to mention all that black gunk you get everywhere! It's disgusting! And who the fuck is going to love you when you're holed up in your room for a week because you're 'depressed'? Or when you're literally falling apart from 'anxiety'?”

He huffed, his features warping and becoming sharper as his anger made it harder for him to maintain his shape. His eye still that bright red.

“I'd say the sex makes up for your shitty attitude, but you don't even put out anymore! No one likes a frigid, mopey bitch, Jacqueline. So guess what?”

He spread his arms wide in an almost showman like gesture, grinning madly at her.

“I'm all you got, baby! No one else is gonna love you like I do! You reject me and you're gonna be alone forever!”

Jacqueline was quiet for a minute, her shoulders hunched, her head down and not looking at Azazel. When she finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper, but it didn't waver.

“Get out of my house.”

“What?” Azazel leaned closer, unable to hear her.

“Get. Out. Of. My. House. Get out. Get out get out get out get out get OUT!”

A surge of energy suddenly went through her, like she had been struck by lightening, and her vision went white.

When it returned, Azazel was gone. And the room looked like a tornado had gone through it. Books and papers and random knick-knacks were scattered haphazardly around the room. The front door was flung wide open. Jacqueline herself seemed to be the epicenter of the storm.

She stood in the chaos, shell-shocked, for a long moment, before a sharp pain in her hand brought her back to her senses. She was still holding that damn rose, clutching it so tightly the thorns had pierced her palm. Anger seized her, and she let out a pained scream, flinging the flower across the room before sinking to the floor with a sob.

And there she stayed, sobbing, with nothing but the silence and the ghosts for company.

#art #i guess??#my writing #my OCs #Azazel #Jacqueline Reine #violence tw #just in case #long post #this fight was a long time coming tbh #i am so rusty at writing forgive me

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sylvanfreckles · 3 years

Text

S01E14 Nightmare

His vision blurred, the blood splattered behind Dean's head on the wall mixing with the shadows of the closet.

"No!" Sam slammed one hand against the door and it flung open, the heavy bureau sliding aside as though it weight nothing. He stared at it for a split-second, but the stranger was there, reaching out to grab a handful of Sam's jacket and tug him into action.

"They're upstairs," the stranger called, pulling Sam along behind him.

Sam ran after him, taking the stairs two at a time, somehow barely keeping pace with the stranger despite his longer stride. It was almost like the man in the trench coat had wings.

They burst through a door to find Max on the other side, gun hovering in mid-air with him on one side and Dean and Alice on the other.

"Max," Sam panted, hand held out. "You don't want to do this."

Max looked at him, face contorted in grief and pain, and Sam's heart ached at what the other man had gone through. "I just want the nightmares to end."

"This won't end them," Sam pleaded. "It'll only give you new ones."

A broken sob forced its way out of Max's throat and his gaze flicked toward the gun. "You're right."

"No!" Sam lunged forward as the gun spun to point at Max, but the stranger was between them in an instant, catching the bullet out of the air bare-handed. With the same hand he pressed two fingers to Max's forehead, then caught the young man's body as it crumpled bonelessly toward the ground.

"The hell just happened?" Dean demanded, scooping his gun up and flicking the safety back on.

"I'll take care of him," the stranger replied, flinging Max over one shoulder as effortlessly as he'd moved the bureau downstairs. "Do you have it from here?"

Sam found himself the target of those intense, familiar eyes...and felt something in his chest relax. He didn't know why, but he knew they could trust Max with this...this person. He nodded, and the stranger almost smiled before disappearing, taking Max along with him.

"What happened?" Alice sounded on the edge of hysteria, and she was backing away from the brothers and eyeing the open door. "Where's Max?"

"Somewhere you can't hurt him again." The words spilled out more harshly than Sam meant them to, but he couldn't regret it when the woman looked down. "Dean?"

"Let's go," his brother had a hand around his arm, guiding him toward the door. "Man, how did you get up here so fast? You have teleportation now, or what?..."

(Personally, I think Alice got off way too easy, and that way she just wipes all emotion off her face as soon as the Winchesters turn away is a little creepy.)

(What? Cas is just planning his own spin-off...Castiel's Home for Azazel's Children.)

#supernatural #mini fic #an au where cas pops up in non cas episodes to save the day #S01E14 nightmare #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Max Miller

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arata-is-a-dunce · 3 years

Note

Ahahahahahahahaha THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS XD

Pairing: Azazel/Belphegor

Prompt: Upon finding out the reason Azazel's former love can't come back is in part due to her never having 'existed' as the human he knew her for in the first place. And or, let's play with the idea of a gender swapping Belphegor like the myths suggest ;)

Well, I—no, this is why we can’t have nice things. I have found my calling as the angst queen in our little group. I do love you, but enjoy shedding tears.

Enough is enough. This had gone long enough and Belphegor has become bored with this prank, especially now that humans have arrived on their own account in their prison home. They figured that it’s best to just get this millennia prank over with. They’re surprised that the former angel lasted this long. The demon watches as the fallen angel paces, thumb in between teeth. It’s always like this after failures. Aggressive pacing and mumbled words in his Enochian tongue.

Azazel never fails in this aspect like he fails in everything else. Really, his tenacity has always been a problem, probably one of the reasons why they started this little prank in the first place. They had wondered how long and far the fallen angel would take it and is still trying. The humor is still there.

It won’t ever not be funny to see him struggling and watching that wretched soul be awakened. They two of them are friends, don’t get them wrong! This is what friends do after all, prank each other! It wasn’t just that, either. Of course there’s more to this little prank but they won’t be getting into that.

Watching him pace, grows tiring and they finally step forward. “Belphegor! I need you to find me a new vessel.”

“Azazel,” they speak, voice filled with faux concern and worry. They aren’t the best liar, but they know well enough how to fake emotions. “You must stop this. It’s been a millennia. You’ve proven nothing to me.”

“No! I won’t stop! I can do this!”

“Honestly, this tenacity of yours is very problematic.” Azazel’s lips pull into a scowl at their comment. “Don’t look at me like that, old friend. Don’t forget you have things to do,” they continue, walking past him and leans down to study the soul. “Poor soul, you’re starting to fray.”

“Wha-What?” Panic leaks into his yell as he rushes forward, taking a better look at the unfortunate soul. “No! No! This shouldn’t be right!”

“Azazel, what did you expect to happen? You’ve put that poor soul through so much torture for the past millennium.” Belphegor smiles an unkind smile, reaching out with clawed fingers, grasping his chin, and forcing the fallen angel to look up at him. “My dear friend, let me ease your troubles. That soul doesn’t even belong to your loved one.”

“What are you talking about, Belphegor?” Azazel doesn’t try and force their hand away, knowing that they wouldn’t let go. “Belphegor, what do you mean? What did you do?”

The demon allows a grin to cross their face. “I didn’t do anything, Azazel,” they say and pull away. “Azazel, my dear friend, what is something that I can allow myself?” Their head tilts, the sardonic smile not moving a centimeter. “It’s not anything I did but something you did, of course. You’ve been my friend for how long?”

“Belphegor—“

“Azazel! Who do you believe that woman was? Why is it that whenever you bring her back, there’s a part of you that doesn’t recognize?” The demon side steps at the sudden attack. “Azazel—“

“What did you do?” he yells, lunging towards the ancient being. “Belphegor!”

“Azazel!” they shoot back. “I did nothing. You’re the one who fell in love with someone that never existed.”

They enjoy the slow dawn of realization as their appearance shifts.

“Who am I?” she asks, her hair slipping over her face.

“You—You’re—“

“Now, Azazel, speak your words clearly,” she teases, hiding her smile being a slim hand.

This seems to anger the fallen angel further whose face grows dark, pupils constricting. “You! You bastard!” His words morph into Enochian speech as he yells, yet Belphegor knows what is being said.

How could you lie like this?

How could you stand by and watch him make a fool of himself?

Why?

How long would you have gone along with this?

It’s hilarious and she allows a small bit of laughter to cross her lips. “Come now, Azazel. I told you, didn’t I? A marriage with a human is impossible. When did I lie? I don’t favor lying. I just omitted the truth. I never gave you a name yet you still allowed your feelings to cloud your judgement. I didn’t know how far this prank would have lasted and I did try talking you out of it.”

“Why now?” he whispers, anger slipping out of his body. Dark eyes slowly rising to look at her instead of his feet. “Why now after so long?”

“You dragged humans into this. I was fine with it before but that was then, when no human had the chance of venturing in. Well, other than Orpheus but he was dimwitted enough that he didn’t listen to the simple rules.” She strides to the makeshift bed, sitting on it and gazes towards the trapped soul. “You’ve punished this soul enough that you transformed it into one of us despite it fraying so.” Belphegor laughs. “Just kidding!” She snaps her fingers and the cage opens. “Welcome back, Lamasthu.”

The demon goddess nods and turns to the fallen angel who’s dropped to his knees at her appearance with a snide expression before leaving with boisterous laughter following her wake.

“Belphegor,” he whispers, horror painted on his face. “Why?”

“Because it was funny.” She walks back over, caressing his cheek. “A prank between friends, hmm?” Her expression grows serious. “Now, now, my sweet friend, don’t fret.”

They shift back to their original form, long hair cascading like green waterfalls over their shoulders, standing to their original height and bringing him up with them. “We’ll look past this and laugh one day. And don’t worry, my dear, I won’t tell Lucifer about you ignoring your duties.” They lean down and press their lips against the distraught fallen angel’s forehead. “Do be careful next time and don’t bring us more trouble.”

#mayonaka no occult koumuin #midnight occult civil servants #mnok belphegor #mnok azazel #answered asks #asks are open #mayonaka angst #angst #this is why we cant have nice things #sorry not sorry #Azabel #ship #does this count as a ship?

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mamusings · 4 years

Text

Supernatural Season 1 Thoughts

So I'm rewatching mainly to distract myself from the dogs breakfast the show has descended into. But also because my feelings about the show as a whole are decidedly mixed. I come to it as a buffy fan. I've always been curious about spn as a successor show to buffy, but only watched thr first 13 seasons in 2020. Blame lockdown.

Anyway s1. Blinding start, blinding finish. But the middle is just too many MOTW episodes without enough season arc development. I keep wondering who the show is for. It feels aesthetically very male. Lots of blood, guns and violence. Well-realised horror feel - although I think it's hard to really feel fear when you dont particularly care about who might die. It's only when you threaten a major character death that things hit harder. Also the genuflecting to realism by drawing on urban myths feels like something for stereotypically 'male' rather than 'female'. Probably reflects my preferences that I was never to into the MOTW format some buffy fans loved and that I was always more interested in the story telling than realism or even consistency. Monsters as metaphors works better for me. But Spn is a much more cloistered universe. Two guys and their absent father is what s1 is about. But it dits weirdly between being comfort viewing and needing attention. There's much that starts to feel formulaic with MOTW episodes: Impala on the road scene, some rock music, an opener that gives you a new mystery and people to go with it blah blah. You can practically set your watch by the final denouement happening in the final 8 mins. It feels like the show is diligently checking off every myth and monster going which gets tedious. I found the need for setting up yet another family in danger was something that gets hard to care about. "Oh look a couple, someone's gonna die, shall I fast forward until sam and dean show up." And yet there are some interesting undercutting of the white working class vibe the show has. Two that stand out to me are: the 'female gazing' of the camera work off Sam and Dean. There's a lot of panning - are we getting in the boys with the guns and hardware and then offering up the handsome male bodies for women? I felt a little cheap, but they they are v cute. The other is having a black/bi racial woman play Dean's only serious love interest. The ghost truck thing is terrible but putting attitudes to race at the centre of this particular storyline was intriguing. Perhaps a counter balance to the overall wwc feel of things. (Full disclosure I am a black woman and I enjoyed seeing this - even tho I did have several moments of wondering was the predominant female look so uniform back then. All the girls have the same build (and did we all wear such low rise jeans?) plus long, wavy/curly hair...except Meg who basically has Sam's hairstyle ha ha)

What's impressive? The first few episodes give us a cluster of core lines: bitch/jerk, no chick flick moments, and the sibling dynamic This show hits its stride right in the pilot and wendigo is still one of the scarier episodes. Thats a really good opening shot imo.

It's no surprise that what's really riveting is Sam and Dean. But on rewatching I saw a lot more on why this is so interesting. Basically when the characters are introduced you first get Sam. He's your archetypal nice guy whis hot everything though for him. Stanford, girlfriend, friends, great test score but also and crucially hes likeable. Then you get Dean and hes introduced as a dick. Breaks in, wrestles Sam, comes on to/is sleazy with Sams gf. So cocky bad boy: check.

In the pilot dean is the annoying big brother to a t. So they set up two contrasting personalities. Dean is disrespectful to cops, Sam is embarrassed by it. Dean is into hunting, Sam is unwillingly persuaded. Dean is insensitive, Sam kinder and sweet. Dean plays dumb, Sam's the academic achiever. But what we witness over the course of the season essentially reverses this. Sam's the real rebel defying his father, Dean the obedient son. Dean gets a lot of scenes showing him make swift emotional connections esp with children or people in caretaker roles. Dean's very adult 'I'm 26 of course I go on hunts alone' is unmasked by the fact he gets Sam to help him because hes lonely. And Dean (often clumsily) tries to help Sam move on about Jess and open up about his nightmares. While the explicit dialogue casts Sam as the geeky loser brother what we see in this season is that the loser is actually Dean. Sam has friends, Sam has a relationship, Sam has a life he wants to get back to. Dean has no one and some of the hardest emotional hits this season are when his mask is lifted to show us just that. For instance shape shifter Dean voices his jealousy in Skin. Also Azazel taunts Dean about how he needs Sam and John in a way that they dont need him.

The closing episodes really bring some of these contrasts home. Dead Mans Blood gives us a great bonding scene between Sam and John, for me that's a moment where it falls into place that they so much in common that it leaves Dean on the outside. They both loved women they lost to a demon. For both of them (at this stage) the mission, as in killing this demon, matters more than family. Its Dean who constantly prioritises family, even while his family deprioritise him. Both Sam in Salvation and John in Devils Trap put sacrificing themselves to kill the demon as their first priority. Whereas Dean consistently argues for family, first persuading John that they are stronger together, then telling Sam that the three of us 'is all I have' in Salvation. The point gets hammered home in Devils Trap where Dean says (in case the stupid viewer missed it "you and Dad are a lot more alike..cant wait to sacrifice yourselves, but I'm going to be the one to bury you").

Much of the rest of the relationship development is about showing us the partnership Sam and Dean are developing. You see increasing ease in working together - maybe most cliched in how they toss weapons back and forth in Hell House. Plus that interesting sibling dynamic when you love someone and find them intensely annoying that feels enjoyable even if your own sibling relationship is nothing like it.

But what's interesting is that while Dean's character is revealed throughout the season. You see through the episodes the difference between his Dean presents himself and hiw he is, but dean doesn't change. Hes immature and emotionally driven I'd also savvy and brave. Its Sam who changes. Not in how he is, but in his priorities. Sam realises the good bit about Dean among the stuff that irritates him. But most importantly the final episode shows us Sam moving from thinking the mission is what matters just like John. To thinking his family matters more. He doesnt shoot Azazel inside John and when John berates him for it his look at the bloodied-up Dean in the rearview mirror speaks volumes.

It's all the more striking because thus argument has been the core dilemma for the last 3 episodes. It's also the crux of how Dean, for all his obedience, sees himself as falling short of who his father wants him to be. He cant turn his heart off. Its Dean who calls his dad sounding like a tearful little boy in Home. It's when John approves of him making the heart choice and using the colt to save Sam, that Dean realises it's not his father but Azazel speaking. I find that painful to watch it's been so well set up. You get lots of preview of Dean really wanting approval and when it finally comes and you're all ahh fsmily bonding, Dean puts it together and goes you're not my father. Ouch.

Absent fathers and eventually I guess an absent God is a big spn theme. So there is something to say for looking at it in this season. John's absence is the driver of the whole season. But it's also the foundation stone of both Sam and Dean's character. What we get most of in s1 is a sense of the impact of his fathers absence on Dean. The childhood neglect, but also the absence of approval. My European background always makes it jarring when children address their father as sir so I hope I'm not over reading this. When John gets back the way it emasculates Dean is jarring. The jumping to attention with the yessirs and the following orders is such a distance from the cocky law breaker. Its interesting that the first scenes in which I recall the boys speaking in unison are these yessirs. But the scene I remember most is a trivial one, Dean offers John a machete out of Babys messy looking trunk - hes already been pulled up by dad for inadequate car maintenance. But John pulls a bigger, better, cleaner machete out of his high spec truck - Dead Mans Blood. Sums it up for me. Dean is so eager for approval, his father withholds it so casually. Sam is less like this, because he had Dean to parent him however ineptly. Sam did not have a hoid parent in Dean, but Dean showed up. Sam starts to make that realisation in season 1 and there are a few thank you moments. Contrast Dean's only outburst against his father when hes admonished to call when in trouble. He takes a leaf out of Sam's book and notes that they did call in Lawrence and they called when Dean was dying in Faith, hes angry and rightly so. John didn't show. But its interesting that Dean's fight with John sounds like a child fighting with a parent. It even ends with 'I dont care for your tone' from John even as he accepts Dean's point. Constrast Sam and John who have a much deeper ongoing disagreement. But Sam fights his father from an adult position. He's not looking for approval or acceptance, Sam claims his ground, argues his point. Dean still just needs to be loved.

But as well as the impact of the absent parent there is also having grown beyond the parent. I feel like the final few episodes show us that 'the boys' have surpassed their father. John's fake colt idea is lame and Dean calls it. By contrast the devils trap at Bobby's to catch Meg feels like a moment of brilliance particularly as the trap is sprung on the viewer so we feel surprised too.. Sure they call in help from Bobby, but what they do is well planned and they pull it off. And calling in helo when you need it us grown up.

Theres an element of fate vs character exploration when it comes to Sam and Dean. What happens to Sam is fate. It's not related to how he is or how he behaves. We find that out more fully soon. Whereas what happend to Dean relates to his character. IMO Dean actually has the option of walking away from hunting that Sam tried to exercise. Unlike Sam, hunting wouldn't have pursued Dean by killing his girlfriend. But Dean's character means he doesnt chose to walk away because family is important to him, in a way that it isn't for Sam until the end of this season. Its interesting that Sam perceives of himself as having choices he doesn't have. Whereas Dean sees himself as having no choice, when in fact he does. But I guess we don't know that yet so maybe the argument doesn't work?

#supernatural #sam #dean #winchester

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irelise · 5 years

Text

the yew tree - end!

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier to claim his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

Featuring mysteries, hidden agendas, and a whole heap of master/servant tropes. (the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

part one and two now on ao3!

beginning of part 3)

Warnings for this part: References to past abuse Rating: M Word count: 1986 Notes: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT IT’S FINALLY FINISHED!!! special thanks to akasanata, steph, kernezelda, and gerec for the support, couldn’t have finished this on my own! I’ll be editing over the next few days and uploading to Ao3 soon!

The next few days stutter past in an odd series of mismatched rhythms. Sometimes the hours drag by, agonizingly slow. Other times, Erik feels like he has no time to even breathe with the amount of activity unravelling around him. Shaw’s body is handled with minimal fuss; the police rule it as an accident, drug overdose, case closed. Shaw is quietly and ignominiously forgotten by the humans.

Not so in the mutant community. Shaw’s death had left a power vacuum, and much of Erik’s time is now spent wrestling for control over the various factions now embroiled in petty squabbles. The safehouse becomes filled with the constant stink of sulphur as Azazel teleports in and out, ferrying messages and occasionally delivering a mutant for Erik to glare into submission.

“It would be easier if I just take you with me,” Azazel grumbles after one such delivery.

“Not a chance,” Erik replies shortly.

He can’t leave. Charles is still recuperating. He doesn’t wake at all that first day, and Erik would have been out of his mind with worry had their thoughts not remained so closely entwined with each other. Charles’ presence remains a warm glow at the back of his head, faint but steady.

He’ll be fine. He has to be.

The second day is worse. Midway through the afternoon, Erik is attacked by a flare of stabbing pain, fierce enough to drive him to his knees. He clutches at his head and bites back a groan – it’s like someone is driving a pick right between his eyes, like he’s being stabbed, his skull split open–

The pain stops abruptly. Charles’ presence vanishes with it.

Fuck. Taking the stairs two at a time, Erik slams into Charles’ room. “Charles!”

Charles had moved from where he was peacefully asleep earlier. Now, he’s a small, dark shape on the bed, curled into himself, the blankets drawn over his head. Erik crosses the room in quick strides. “You’re awake?”

“Unfortunately.” The word is muffled by the blankets. “Migraine.”

And that was that. The pain is bad enough this time that Charles has forming words, and he adamantly refuses to link his mind with Erik’s again. When Erik pictures his thoughts reaching out for Charles, Charles only shakes his head and winces. “I can’t stop myself from projecting the migraine,” he says tiredly, the stubborn martyr. “I don’t want you to share it.”

Erik would have pressed the point, but something about Charles softens his hard edges, and he reluctantly concedes the point. It doesn’t stop him from climbing into bed with Charles, a stack of reports in his lap.

When Charles reaches out to lace their fingers together, Erik lets him, absently running his thumb over the knuckles of Charles’ hand.

Charles’ migraine doesn’t abate that day, or the next. It’s not until the morning of the fourth day Erik wakes to find Charles smiling softly at him. He’s pale, his eyes smudged with dark circles, but the sight of him properly awake and alive is sweeter than Erik had ever imagined. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in.

“You look tired,” Charles remarks, and it’s just like him to fret over Erik when he was the one who almost died from holding onto Shaw. Erik can’t help but laugh, just a touch reluctant, and shakes his head.

“I could say the same.” His voice is rough. He almost stops there, but then the words come spilling out: “I thought I lost you.”

A frown ripples over Charles’ face, then smooths into a look of resolve. “Shaw had to be stopped.”

“…He did.” And Erik would have killed him at the expense of his own life, but Charles’… Charles hasn’t even had the chance to truly live yet. He had demanded too much of him, he sees that now. “But I should have been more patient. Spent more time planning. Made sure you understood the dangers. What we did was incredibly risky.”

Still, he thinks about Shaw’s plans to consummate his sham marriage with Charles, and something cold and ugly twists in Erik’s gut.

Charles is scrutinizing him, his expression thoughtful but impossible to read. “I wouldn’t have said no to more time spent planning,” he finally says. “But, Erik, you mustn’t feel guilty. My choices were my own.”

“I know you didn’t want to kill Shaw.”

Charles’ mouth twists. “You didn’t force me into anything I didn’t want to do. Death is always a waste, yes, but for someone like Shaw…” He looks troubled, but only for a second. Then he looks Erik squarely in the eye. “I’ve been in his mind before. I’ve tried to reason with him. His pride and envy run deep, deeper than you can imagine. He would have never let you live. If it was a choice between him and you…”

Pressing his lips together, Charles shakes his head. “I don’t regret it,” he says with a sense of finality.

For a few moments, they sit together in thoughtful silence, then Erik asks: “Are you really going to go through with it?”

Four days ago – had it really only been four days? – during their telepathic conversation in the car, Charles had resolved to stop running away from Marko. More than that, he had resolved to fight back. Erik would have loved to track Marko down and kill him, but Charles already has plans. Plans that Erik isn’t sure he approves of, if he’s honest, but he concedes Charles has the right to his own revenge.

Justice, not vengeance, Charles had said into their shared link.

You’ll be ruining him either way.

Good.

Charles’ plan is a simple one on the surface: let the public know about Marko’s crimes. Drag his perversions into the light, his cruelty and his inhumanity. Let the public be his judge.

In the present, Charles is frowning. “Uncle and his associates cannot be allowed to walk free, you’ve convinced me of that. But informing the public of their crimes won’t just affect me. The truth about mutants may come out. Are we prepared for that?”

Erik had spent much of the last few days asking himself the same question. He has an answer now. “We’ve spent too long living in the shadows, in silence and in shame. Enough.”

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

“No. But I’ll fight to the last drop of blood to defend our people.”

“And you’d do the same for me,” Charles murmurs, sounding awed. He must have read the conviction from Erik’s thoughts.

Erik inclines his head, not seeing the need to say anything further.

“To be honest…” Charles exhales slowly, visibly steeling himself. “No, I don’t want to do this. Not everyone is going to believe me, you must know that, and many of them will be – unkind. But you’re right. I’m tired of the shame, Erik. I…”

He reaches out and Erik leans forward, allowing Charles to settle his fingers against his temples. Charles bites his lip.

Images rush into Erik’s mind. Suddenly they’re back in Marko’s twisted library again, then in the labs, only this time Erik is seeing himself from Charles’ perspective. It’s disorienting, made worse by the way the memories seem to skip around like a broken recording, weighed down by Charles’ fear and shame and despair. Erik sees himself raise a hand, sees an ugly wreckage of jagged steel and torn pages, red splattering everywhere. Charles’ memories don’t shy away from the violence of the scene. But rather than horror, Erik’s fury seemed to have inspired something else in Charles, muted and wavering but warm all the same.

Hope.

4. BUSINESS MOGUL KURT MARKO FACES ALLEGATIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND TORTURE FROM HIS NEPHEW The reclusive young Lord Xavier of Westchester breaks his silence today, stepping forward to accuse his uncle and legal guardian…[…]…Police investigations of the ancestral Xavier estate have revealed the presence of numerous obscene materials…[…]…Lord Xavier has also levied accusations at multiple business associates connected to Marko…

***

The water is at the perfect temperature. His limbs loose and languid with a pleasant post-coital haze, Charles relaxes deeper into the bathtub, smiling in drowsy contentment at the noises of Erik splashing around behind him. Eventually, Erik settles down, and Charles makes a pleased sound as Erik cards his fingers through his hair, scratching against his sensitive scalp with just the right amount of pressure.

“Oh yes, do that again, please.”

Erik obliges, and for a few minutes everything else melts away except for the comfort of Erik’s body bracketed around his, hot water lapping against their skin. But then Charles feels the gears of Erik’s mind clicking, purposeful and precise.

“I was going over some reports with Azazel earlier,” Erik’s voice is carefully even. “I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but Kurt Marko will be going up for trial soon.”

Charles winces slightly, half-wishing that Erik wouldn’t talk about Uncle here, but that’s a childish thought. “I’ve heard,” he says, every bit as carefully neutral as Erik had been. “Several of his associates may be facing criminal charges as well.”

He hears a splash of water as Erik shrugs. “Not that it matters. Most likely they’ll all be let off the hook.”

“No faith in the justice system, my friend?”

“None at all.”

Charles can’t even disagree entirely, but as always, he opts for the diplomatic approach. “Well, do let’s at least give them a chance to get things right. Whichever way the trial goes, Uncle will no longer be a threat to us.”

“How are things with the lawyers?”

“Everything has been finalised. The estate, the fortune – they’re all under my name once more.”

Vicious satisfaction flares in Erik’s mind, but the motions of his hands are gentle against Charles’ scalp. “Good.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“You could put the estate to good use.”

Erik chuckles. His breath tickles the back of Charles’ neck, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. “What would I need a mansion for?”

“Think about it,” Charles insists. He turns to face Erik fully. “We – you could make it a safe haven. For mutants. You told me before that you’ve rescued children before. The mansion could be a safe place for them, or for anyone injured or unable or otherwise unwilling to fight. You’ve been there, you know there’s more than enough room for everyone.”

Erik studies him with dark eyes. “And what will you be doing while all of that is going on?”

Trust Erik to cut to the heart of the matter. Charles looks down, watching the way rivulets of water run down Erik’s skin. “I haven’t quite decided yet.”

But he doesn’t want to go back to the mansion. Not yet, anyway.

Erik is still watching him, and Charles takes some comfort from the familiar, metronomic tick of Erik’s mind as he works through a problem. “I think it’s a good idea,” he says finally. “I’ll talk to Emma and Azazel about getting something set up.”

“You’re not doing it yourself?”

“No.” The tiniest hint of a smile is playing around the edges of Erik’s mouth. His mind is a dizzying, intoxicating mix of fondness and determination. “I have other business I need to take care of. Shaw had a rather extensive overseas network. Now that things are settling down here, I’d like to continue dismantling his empire.”

Overseas. Somewhere Charles will be unknown, just another anonymous face in the crowd. No reporters dodging his steps, no one watching him with the sort of greedy and scorn that makes him feel as if he’s being flayed apart.

“Is that,” Charles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips, “an invitation?”

Erik’s smile broadens. “Come with me, Charles.”

The thought of refusing never crosses Charles’ mind. He leans in for a kiss, which Erik swiftly deepens, and for the first time, Charles allows himself to dream of the future.

#cherik #xmfc #my writing

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