#look if you can rile shockwave up and not have him immediately put you on his list of test subjects or stare down the barrel of his cannon

[whatudottu]

Sketchy sequel to this little thing I drew on an 8 hour plane trip without references because no wifi :(

Shockwave's logic tree of 'only breakdown's brave/stupid enough to call him breastie' and 'breakdown saying "hey breastie" is in reference to him' meets Breakdown's rarely seen mischievous side like a downball piffed against a wall-

[whatdyk]

Trouble Maker | Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Only, PWP, oral sex (m!receiving), hints of cock warming, Dom!Rex, slight dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

AN: What was supposed to be a short Drabble quickly evolved...I have no regrets. I’m deeply in my Rex feels at the moment.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Rex seethes behind you, following your footsteps as you enter the room to your private quarters. You can't help but roll your eyes as you listen to him go on, already having predicted that he was going to react like this.

As the door eventually slides to a close, you turn on your heels to face him, noting the already-enraged look that's plastered across his handsome face. It would be a lie to say that you didn't enjoy him riled up like this, but you knew it would only serve to wind him up further if you attempted to tease him.

"Are you even listening to me?" He questions as you continue to stand there, "what was that?!"

You have to suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, taking a small step closer, "I'm sorry, Captain" you mumble under your breath, looking up at him through thick lashes, "I didn't mean to-"

"Oh no you don't" He then snaps, reaching out to grab your jaw, "You can't distract me with that this time"

You look up at him with wide eyes as he speaks, pouting your lips as the force of his grip tightens around your face. Your heart is beating rapidly beneath your chest, quickly noticing as the look in his eyes grows darker.

"What the fuck were you thinking, hm?" He repeats again, slightly shaking your head, "You could have gotten yourself killed."

"Rex-" you start, struggling to open your mouth against the force of his hand.

"No" he suddenly interrupts, "You've lost the right to call me that. Try again."

You're forced to swallow down the lump in your throat before you continue, having to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the burning desire between them, "Captain?"

His jaw twitches in acknowledgment, "Now, answer the question. What were you thinking?"

Still struggling against his strength, you're forced to your tip-toes as his grip refuses to relent, "I had to distract them somehow" you mutter, cheeks heating with embarrassment, "but it worked"

At that, he finally releases your jaw and you stumble back in relief, moving your hand to rub at the sore skin that he left behind. Though, as you slowly look back up towards him, you soon realize that your comfort will be short-lived as he begins to strip from his armor.

"You were on your own, did you know that?" he spits, unclipping his belt and cod-piece simultaneously, "Nobody even knew that you were there until you were surrounded by droids."

You can't maintain his gaze as he continues, reminding you of your own reckless tactics on and off the battlefield. To him, it didn't even matter that they actually worked, because he only saw it as a matter of time until your luck eventually ran out. Guilt pangs in your gut as you recognise the pain and frustration in his voice, but you don't have long to dwell in your own self-pity before rough, calloused hands are grasping at your shoulders.

"On your knees." He rasps out, seemingly staring straight through your soul. It takes you a moment to comprehend his order as you continue to look at him, seemingly stoic in his composure as he stares you down. With one raised eyebrow though, you quickly settle on your knees before him, not willing to test his patience any further.

An age seems to pass before he finally moves to touch you again, slowly placing his hand against your cheek and running his thumb across your lower lip. You close your eyes at the gentle sensation, already knowing that this isn't going to last long. Instinctively, your tongue reaches down to taste him, humming in pleasure when you're met with the familiar flavour of leather and blaster residue.

"You're going to make it up to me though, aren't you?" he mumbles, watching as his thumb slowly makes its way inside your mouth, "prove to me that you can be a good girl, hm?"

You nod your head against him slowly, wrapping your tongue around his thumb and hollowing your cheeks. He releases his own moan at that, his other hand quickly moving to palm at the growing length beneath his blacks. Before you can stop yourself, your own hands are moving out to reach him, joining his movements as you attempt to free his leaking cock-

"What do you think you're doing?" he then snaps at you, ripping away his thumb from your mouth. You look up at him with wide-eyes, your brows pinched together in confusion and panic.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?" he chastises, taking a long step away from you.

You whine as you're forced to watch him move away, taking with him what you really, really want. With your best pout, you look up towards him with your most apologetic expression, "I'm sorry, Captain" you coo, "Can I please touch you? I just want to make you feel good, I know that I can make you feel so, so good"

He offers you a sardonic smile at that, eventually moving back to sit at the foot of the bed with his legs spread wide. Your mouth is almost watering as he finally rids himself of his boots and trousers, his rock hard length moving to slap against his still-covered stomach.

You're itching to move as he takes himself in his hand, pumping slowly. The view that you're facing is obscene, watching as his thick length slides between his fingers as he continues to pleasure himself. You watch as quietly as possible, the only sound being your breath catching in your throat as he releases a strangled moan.

"Come on then, little girl" he hums, "you can touch me"

Your heart instantly soars at the words, almost scrambling as you attempt to rise to your feet-

"Crawl," the word then stops you dead, "hands and knees."

Your heart resumes its pounding as you slink back down without further argument, your bones already aching from spending so much time on the hard floor. Yet, you can't even think about denying his order as you crawl towards him, knowing that your reward is already in sight.

"Such a good girl" he whispers as he watches you, observing the curves of your ass as you slowly reach the position between his legs.

Learning from your earlier mistake, you wait patiently for him to nod before finally moving to touch him. Beneath your hands, you feel as the firm muscles of his thigh twitch and strain against his own resistance, eagerly anticipating your gentle caress. As your fingers eventually snake towards where he needs you the most, you watch as waves of goosebumps erupt across his golden skin.

Slowly, you take the tip of him into your mouth and swirl your tongue around the head, glancing up at his face as his jaw begins to slacken. Though, in the moment that your eyes meet, a wave of need hits you like a freight train, immediately coaxing the burning flames between your legs into a roaring fire.

You already know that he's too big to take completely, but you swallow past your gag reflex and begin choking around his thick cock, "That's it sweet girl-" he strains against you, "just like that"

His hand makes its way to the back of your head as you continue, holding his length against the back of your throat for as long as humanly possible. The animalistic groan that escapes his body sends shockwaves down your spine, your own whine releasing and vibrating against his now-throbbing length.

Finally releasing him to take a deep breath, you continue to pump his soaking cock as you lick a thick stripe along the base, your other hand moving to massage and fondle his balls. Each desperate gasp that he eagerly releases is feeding your own arousal, having to resist the urge to put your hand between your own legs and feel your sopping cunt.

"Come here." His voice then regains your attention, his composure just beginning to slip.

You release him from your mouth but keep your hand firmly wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly as you rise to meet him. Finally face to face, he palms your cheek with one of his hands, his fingers curling tight around the back of your skull to crush a bruising kiss to your lips.

Losing yourself in his taste, you release a sound of surprise as he flips you both, pushing you into the mattress as he rests on his forearms above you. His breath is fanning heavily against your face, his head dipping to the crook of your neck where he begins to leave long, messy kisses. His hand moves towards the apex of your thighs, smiling against your skin once he feels how absolutely soaked you are.

"All of this for me?" he teases, swiping his fingers through your folds, "I haven't even touched you yet, pretty girl"

You release a desperate whine against him as his fingers continue their assault, carefully avoiding your most sensitive areas and successfully driving you insane, "Please-" you mumble again him, squeezing your eyes closed, "Rex, I-"

"Captain." He accentuates with a light slap to your pussy, causing you to cry out against him. Your clit is throbbing for attention now, in need of any form of friction.  

"C-Captain" you struggle to repeat, "Please, I-I can't wait any longer" The sound of your desperate begging is music to his ears, watching as your writhe breathlessly beneath him.

Slowly, he begins to grind his hips against your own, pressing you down into the mattress as his cock slips between your dripping folds. Your own arousal is painting the inside of your thighs, feeling as the cool air hits it when he parts your legs carefully.

Lining himself up with your entrance,  he looks down at you one last time, a familiar and mischievous look shining through those amber eyes of his.

Your breath catches as he finally begins to sink into you, the tip of his cock catching against your clit and finally giving it the attention it so desperately needs. The first few inches give you that delicious stretch, a feeling that you could never tire of as you wrap your legs around his muscular waist. He fills you to perfection, reaches new depths inside of you, and pushes up against something magical.

"Fuck-" he eventually rasps out, his head falling between his shoulders, "You feel so good, little one. So good for me."

His fingers press small bruises into your skin as he plunges deep into you, hips crashing so wet and desperate against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face against his shoulder. You don't have the air to formulate a response yet, just having to hang on and be forced to take exactly what he wants to give you.

His pace is punishing now, pushing you further into the softness of your mattress as he commands you into a new realm of pleasure. Your fingers cling to his back as he hits that spot, causing you to clench down around him as your mouth falls open into a silent scream.

"I've got you" you then hear his voice, coaxing you towards your oncoming high, "cum on my cock, care, I've got you"

The words begin to flow out of his mouth freely as you reach new heights, momentarily losing yourself in the feeling of absolute bliss. Your whole body is tensing beneath him, electricity crackling through your limbs each time he bottoms out inside you, pushing you further and further-

"Fuck!" You scream out, clawing at his back in an attempt to find something to hang on to.

A blast of white, hot light tears through every muscle in your body, leaving you a convulsing mess below as he continues to pound you through it. You soon realise that your throat is sore, listening to your own moans and screams as if you were having an out-of-body experience.

You feel as a tear escapes your eye, running down the pane of your cheek as you attempt to come back down to earth. You hear as Rex continues to gasp above you, fighting against his own release as his thrusts grow erratic and urgent. Your firm grip resumes around his waist, pulling him even deeper inside of you.

"Cum for me Captain," you whine against him, "Please give it to me-"

His moans against your skin are almost devastating, his form entirely collapsing against you as he continues to rut helplessly into your abused pussy. Under the heavy weight of his toned muscles, you're left at his mercy, taking him as he finally edges towards his peak.

His heavy body is pressed completely into you as he eventually stills, a low whine sounding from his lips as he pumps his release into you. His breaths are laboured against your neck, his eyes slipping closed as your grip softens around him.

You lay like that for what seems like hours, his cock slowly softening inside of you and allowing his cum to slowly seep out. Eventually, he tilts his head up to face you, a wry and exhausted smile ghosting across his chiseled features, "Don't ever do that again" he mumbles, causing you to laugh, "Next time, I really will punish you."

[skullrock]

the ride - Steve x Reader

pairing: Steve x Reader

request: Hiii can you write a fic where reader rides steve's thigh please? thanks

warnings: take a wild guess buddy (answer: smut n swearin’)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I am. sweating. I hope you enjoy!

===

It started when you both were tipsy and getting a little too carried away.

Steve had pulled you onto his lap in the middle of a make out, but you had accidentally rested by straddling one leg instead of both. As you continued to kiss, you absentmindedly started to grind on him. You savored the feeling of his thigh on your clit and you continued, going a bit harder and faster. You start to moan and it’s only then that Steve realizes what you’re doing.

He gently pushes you away from him and blinks. “Are you – grinding on my thigh?”

You nod. “Yeah?”

He groans and pulls you back into him, kissing rougher and sloppier. His hands slide down to your hips and he grips them. He helps move them back and forth and you groan, resting your forehead on his. There’s a little too many clothes on, and you rip Steve’s shirt off before yours. You go for his zipper and pull it down while looking at him, silently questioning if it’s okay.

“Yours first,” he breathes. “If that’s – if you’re –“

You hop off and strip, leaving you completely naked. You can see Steve swallow hard before he reaches out for you, beckoning you back into his lap. You rest on his denim-clad thigh and let out a hiss at the rough material.

“You good?” he asks, concerned, and you answer by grinding onto him again. You both moan and his hands go back to your hips, helping you move against him. He bites his lip as he watches you, with your mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. Your hands come up to your breasts and he groans again, watching you play with yourself. Neither of you had ever done something like this before, but that made it even more hot, and soon enough Steve was straining against his jeans.

He starts to bounce you on his leg now, just slightly, and it makes you cry out. Something resembling a growl leaves him and it sends shockwaves through you. You reach out for him and grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the exposed skin.

“Do you know how pretty you look?” he asks, bouncing again, making you moan. “How pretty you sound?”

You smile gently. “All for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. His hands go up to your breasts and start to grope and massage. Your head throws back and you continue to roll and grind your hips on his clothed thigh.

“Up,” he commands suddenly, and you roll off of him. He looks down at his pant leg – there’s a spot where you’d just been. You open your mouth to apologize but he cuts you off with another sloppy kiss.

“So messy,” he groans after pulling away. “Did you see the mess you made?”

“Steve, Jesus Christ,” you gasp. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”

“Is it okay?” he asks with worry in his voice.

“I love it,” you say, pulling him down to you. You kiss for a moment before he pulls back, smile plastered on his face.

“We’re not done here,” he smirks.

You scoff. “I would hope not.”

He rolls his eyes and stands, stripping his jeans off. He sits back on the bed and you yet again straddle him. The feeling of his soft skin as opposed to his jeans is heavenly and you immediately start to move your hips again. Steve has lost his mind at the feeling of your soft skin rubbing against him, the feeling of your arousal on him. But instead of grabbing you like he had been, he leans back and crosses his arms. Your brows furrow.

“How badly do you want to get off?” he asks.

“Um… pretty badly, dude,” you respond, grinding onto him, hard. A squeak leaves him but he composes himself quickly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

A rush runs through you and you comply, steadying yourself on his shoulders. You grind a bit faster, a bit heavier, and Steve’s thighs flex every once in a while, to make you moan. Your eyes fall to his crotch, which is begging for attention. Steve notices and he puts a finger under your chin, pulling your eyes back to his. You groan at how dark his eyes have gotten, and you just want to feel his warm hands all over you.

“Eyes on mine,” he says lowly.

You nod and keep your eyes trained on him while one hand snakes down to his cock. He didn’t want you to worry about him, but the feeling of your palm on his clothed bulge makes his hips buck up. You smile and he hisses, thrusting up into your hand. His thrusts make the muscles in his thighs flex, which feels really great on you, so you continue palming him.

“Wanna make me cum, huh?” he asks. You whine in response. He reaches down and removes himself out of his boxers and your hand wraps around him. Steve moans and it spurs you on. Your hips move even faster and your hand pumps. Steve thinks the scene is so dirty, so sinful, and it knocks the breath out of him. Add the feeling of your warm hand on him and your wetness spreading on his bare thigh, and he was in heaven.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he praises, eyes twisted shut.

“Steve, please,” you beg.

He’s confused. “Please, what?”

“Touch me.”

Oh, right, he thinks. He takes a moment to collect a response and finally says, “When you deserve it.”

You whine. “What’s that mean?”

All he does is smirk in response, and you’re too riled up to be mad at him. Your hand jerks him quicker and he shuts his eyes again, mouth agape. Breathy moans come out of both of your mouths and you swear you’re getting wetter by each sound he makes. You lift yourself off of him for a moment, collecting some of your arousal on your palm, and then resume grinding and jerking.

His hands are on you again in an instant, touching you everywhere. His lip bites on yours harshly and you gasp. He slips his tongue inside and pulls you closer to him, and you stop grinding momentarily, completely dazed at the feeling of his lips on yours. He lightly smacks your ass to spur you on again and you moan before continuing. You can feel yourself becoming closer, especially now that he’s touching you.

“Steve,” you say against his lips. You pause to collect some courage and say, “Use that dirty mouth of yours.”

His hips roll and he moans at your words. “Such a dirty girl, huh? You like getting off on my thigh?”

“Yes!” you cry out. “Steve, oh my –“

“Gonna make another mess?” he asks.

Each word gets you closer to orgasm, and it does the same for him, too. You can feel his dick twitching in your hand. “Want me to make a mess on you, Steve?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans, hands going to your hips again. His grip is bruising but you don’t mind; your only focus is on getting both of you off.

“You gonna cum?” you ask.

“If you keep this up,” he breathes, a smile playing on his lips.

Both of your moans get louder and louder and Steve thrusts even harder into your hand. His grip on your hips gets stronger and he pulls you back and forth quickly, trying to get you to cum sooner.

“Can I cum?” you moan, and Steve could have died if he weren’t so worried about watching you climax right on his thigh. He hums in response, as if he’s thinking, and you tense your own thighs to keep from orgasming before he gives the okay.

“Now,” he moans loudly, right on the edge himself. “Make a mess for me, sweetheart.”

You literally shout as you cum, as does he, coming undone right into your hand. You chant Steve’s name over and over as yours falls from his lips, bruising grip still on your hips. His head is thrown back against the wall and his eyes are squeezed shut. It’s the sexiest he’s ever been, you think, and his sudden dirty talk only amplifies this observation.

You both pant in unison as you come down, your hand dripping with his cum, and his thigh nearly soaked from yours. Your tipsiness was gone at this point, sobered up from the experience. You press a kiss to his forehead and run your clean hand through his hair.

“I’ll need to help you clean up,” you muse, and he smiles faintly.

“Gonna use your tongue?” he jokes, and you laugh.

“If you asked me that five minutes ago, I would have said yes.”

===

tags (join here): @harrington-ofhawkins​ @comedy-witch​ @harringtonisadingus​ @sassisaluxury​ @gothackedalready​ @willowrose99​ @pxtrickhxckstettxr​ @wolfish-willow​ @harringtown​ @m-blasterrr​ @anerroroccurrrrred​​ @marvels-gurl​ @the-almond-dinger​ @ssanjuniperoo​ @sourapplebaby​

[kassies-take]

Mission Failed

Summary: Kara and Lena’s daughter (your name will be Lauren in this) has been kidnapped, what they find changes their life and breaks their heart

A/n: Missing Supercorp hours

Warning: Angst & Torture

Supercorp, Lena Luthor x Reader, Kara Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2077

Two boys — twins with dirty blond hair, greenish blue eyes and defined jaws — walked into the Zor El Luthor Danvers home. The two distinct differences between the two was that Liam wore lead-lined glasses while the younger, Lucas, wore lead-lined contacts courtesy of L-Corp tech.

“Hi mom,” Liam kissed Lena on the check while side hugging her before he moved to the other side of the white marble kitchen island towards the refrigerator.

Lucas followed suit with a bone-crushing hug. Lena goaned, her fragile human body screamed at her to get out of the hug. Lucas released his grip from around his mother and barely dodged Lena’s hand as she swatted at the air.

“I’m making stir-fry, do you want some?” Liam asked with ingredients laid out on the island.

“Yes!”

Liam glared at his brother. “I wasn’t asking you, I was asking mom.”

“It’s okay honey, I don’t have your appetite. Thank god you sister doesn’t have the same appetite as you two and Jeju.” Lena frowned, now that she thought about it she didn’t feel the usual back hug from you when she worked at home. “Where is your little sister?”

“Ren said she was going to Catco, she wanted to show Jeju the photos she took.” Lucas opened the fridge.

“I’m sure Lauren or Jeju would call if something was wrong,” Lena said before a few clicks were heard and the laptop shut. “You boys want to help with dinner?”

“What are we making?” The two asked.

“Irish stew?”

The two boys cheered.

“We’re eating good tonight!”

“At least you boys have a different favorite food from Kara.”

Around three hours later when the stew was finished the balcony door beeped before it opened.

“It smells good in here!” Kara’s suit dematerialized and hugged Lena.

“Hey, where’s Lauren?”

“Is she not home? She left earlier than I did.”

“She’s not home.”

“I’ll call Nia and see if she saw Lauren.”

“I’ll call Lauren.” Lena moved to her phone.

Kara picked up her phone and was about to dial Nia’s number when she put her arms to the side and walked towards the door. The door swung open before you could pull out your key.

“Oh, Jeju look what Aunt Nia and I did.”

Lena pushed past Kara and held you tightly. “Oh, hi!” You equally matched Lena’s strength and hugged her.

No matter how many times Kara saw this, this moment between the mother daughter duo, it never ceases to amaze her that you are a carbon copy of Lena. With the exception of Kara’s ocean blue eye.

“Little Luthor and I were out in the area doing long exposures with dream energy. Must’ve forgotten to call you. See you tomorrow Kara, bye Lena!” Nia dashed off before the could run after her.

“How about you go get changed up and you can show me your long exposure after Irish stew.”

“Okay,” you ran off into your room.

“Are you okay?” Kara wrapped her arms around Lena.

“I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you have the face you make when me or the boys get hurt from superhero work.”

“You and the boys are bulletproof, Lauren doesn’t have powers. I can’t help but think someone is going to hurt her because she is a Luthor.”

“If she’s anything like a Luthor she is gonna give one hell of a fight.”

~~~~~

“Alex, it was a trap!” Kara’s grunts mixed with the sounds of guns going off in the background. “Don’t send reenforcements, we don’t know how many are there. The place is lined with lead and power dampeners. They knew we were coming.”

“Alex, pull them out!” Lena pleaded.

“It’s not that easy, it’s raining fire everywhere,” Alex braised herself against the D.E.O command center.

“My wife and sons are out there!”

“So is Nia and J’onn!”

“Director Danvers! Dreamer’s and Liam’s commutations went offline.” Brainy stood with his tablet to show Alex and Lena.

There was a brief moment of silence in the D.E.O before Brainy suggested that the Supers fly into the outer atmosphere and fly back down to make a shockwave.

Lucas informed Liam and the three Supers looked at each other before taking off into the sky. The landing’s aftershock threw the enemies off balance. The Luthor-Danvers boys wrapped them with ropes and nets found in a room earlier.

“Where is the alien tech?” Kara asked with her hands on her hip. The two twins stood behind her with matching red and blue suits, and a few other golden strips around their arms.

“There isn’t any.” The leader laughed. “Isn’t it funny how you heroes try to prevent fate from happening. Now everyone in National City will know they can’t mess with fate because no matter how much you heroes try, it wouldn’t be enough!”

Kara rolled her eyes and walked away to inform J’onn and Nia as a D.E.O unit came to detain the villains of the week.

“We will do everything in our effort to stop threats and keep the world safe from the likes of you. We already stopped you.” Lucas smirked.

“But who kept Lauren Luthor safe?” Kara’s head turned towards the laughing maniac.

“How do you know Lauren Luthor!” Kara marched back.

“Careful there Supergirl. You’d want your daughter back in one piece wouldn’t you?” The man smirked before Kara knocked him out with a punch.

Lena stood frozen at the D.E.O, she let out a cry before her knees gave up and she fell to the floor. Brainy had just confirmed that your tracker was untraceable amidst the chaos. Your phone, unavailable.

Liam and Lucas went back to school to see if your friends had seen you, but the last anyone saw of you was when Kara and Lena went to pick up Liam and Lucas. They had thought you left with them but Lena had told you to go back to school.

Kara broke the sound barrier easily, circling the Earth countless times trying to find you. Nia could dream where you were and J’onn couldn’t find your mind.

Lena, poor Lena hasn’t stopped crying. She didn’t feel Alex’s arms around her, she didn’t care for several agents looking at her. She wrapped herself in her arms, looking for a sense of comfort she couldn’t feel.

Liam and Lucas flew in the D.E.O through the balcony. Their eyes swimming in red. They pulled Lena into their arms.

Alex used this opportunity to call Kara back.

“Alex they have my daughter!”

“I know... I want her as badly as you do, but you have circled the Earth 6 times already and your wife and your sons need you right now.”

~~~~~

It had been a month. A month, a week, 10 hours, 18 minutes and 50 seconds. Lena couldn’t helped but count, her mind was left for nothing but finding you. She and Kara both took a break from their respective jobs, spending every waking moment trying to find you.

The twins found it hard to concentrate on school. But they pushed through knowing you would’ve wanted them to.

Your hands were chained above your head, suspended a couple of inches in the air. Your lip had split with a black eye forming. The famous Luthor glare burning holes into the two masked men in the video.

“Here’s the deal, Superwoman reveals her identity to the world and we won’t kill your daughter.”

“Wait Wait this was the whole plan? Beat me up so Superwoman would reveal her identity to the world? What the heck was the point of kidnapping me when you could’ve revealed her secret identity yourself. You’re the one stalking us!”

“Boss should I shut her up?”

“If you need to ask, you already should’ve done it.” The man turned to his henchman, gave him a knife and gestured towards your face.

“You see I just wanted to get you riled up. I knew Superwoman’s identity even when she was Supergirl. And she left me like this,” the man pulled off his mask revealing a familiar face Kara hated her first year as Supergirl, Maxwell Lord.

His face half burnt almost mechanical. No flesh, only bones and nerves.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” You asked.

“No but your mother knows who I am. Your mom couldn’t save everyone and now she can’t save you. But she can do everything I say or your pretty face would be like mine.”

You moved into the knife that was pushed against on your face. It drew blood as you smirked.

Lord whooped. “You are bad ass! But that will change. I’ll be in touch...Kara.”

Lena rubbed her face in her hands. They’ve gotten nothing from the video. Each day she grew less and less sane, she buried herself in her home lab or in the D.E.O. Falling back to old habits of unhealthy hours and little to no meals.

And if Lena was falling back into old habits, Kara acted like a prisoner from Arkham. She’d pace the rooms blaming herself for what happened to her daughter.

You weren’t kidnapped because you were a Luthor, you were kidnapped because you were a Zor-El Danvers.

Lena’s and Kara’s relationship fell a little on the rocky kryptonite side. Arguments would break, they would even get noise complaints by the neighbors. They both spent late hours of the night on encryption or circling the Earth, the little hours they did sleep was spent on soaking pillows and in each other’s arms.

It wasn’t until a very similar night, both Kara and Lena had just fallen asleep when the D.E.O got a lead. Alex, Lena and Kara were immediately contacted. They all raced to the D.E.O to prepare. Hopefully it was a rescue and not a recovery.

~~~~~

All the men were taking down, Lord dealt with courtesy of Lena punch and Kara holding him down. Alex ordered the D.E.O take the escaped aliens that were working with Max and Max himself back to the D.E.O, escorted by the Super Twins, Dreamer, Brianiac, and Martian Man Hunter.

Lena, Alex and Kara walked towards the last room. Lena had her lip in between her teeth, Alex’s hand shaking as Kara’s heart pounded. With Kara looking back at her wife and sister for extra confidence, the other few times had been the same but now was nerve taking. It was either that you were her or you weren’t and they were too late.

The steel door dragged against the wooden floor. The room was poorly lit with a orange lightbulb in the center of the room. There were torturing tools, some clean, some rusty and some with a thin line of blood. The three froze, there eyes flooded with tears. Lena gasping for air.

A puddle of blood under the body. Wrists red and pale, ankles puffed out like a balloon. Your head hung low. A rib seen on both sides, the sports bra and spanx stained brown and red. Trails of red drop down your body like splatter paint.

Lena cried loudly when she saw your back designed like an old willow tree mixed with black webs. Lena shakingly reached for your face scared that once she touched you you’d crumble into dust. A purple tennis ball on your right eye and the left side of your face heavily scarred.

“Mom,” you whimpered, recognizing the delicate touch.

“I got you. You’re safe now.”

Alex released the chains from your wrists as Kara’s strong arms swaddled you.

“We’re going to take you back to the D.E.O. You’ll be okay.”

Kara took off into sky. Alex broke several speeding laws under Lena’s instructions ‘Any speeding ticket you get I’ll pay off. Just drive!’

~~~~~

Stitches, bandages, casts and wires flooded your body. The room was bright with every Superfriends littered on the floor.

The scene in front of them wasn’t pretty but Lena and Kara preferred this, knowing you were here.

Lena held onto your hand, using her thumb to rub the back.

“Haha! I win!” Lucas threw pieces of Monopoly at his brother.

“Can’t a girl heal in peace?” You grumbled.

Cheers erupted in the room and a groan afterwards. You had made immediate eye contact with Kelly.

She knew that look, it was the look of needing help without wanting to tell anyone else.

[ravenkinnie]

ao3

Cass isn’t big on teams which seems to be uncommon in her family.

It’s not that she hates working with others, getting away from Gotham to go on a mission with Birds of Prey is a genuine joy. It’s more that… she knows Oracle and she knows Birds; they work well together. Cass is not sure if people who don’t know her are comfortable with how she works.

She thinks that worries Bruce. Well, Barbara thinks it does.

So, Cass is gathering her wits after being knocked off her feet by a metahuman build like a brick house; she thinks maybe, just maybe, Titans missions are not necessarily within her range when a sudden surge in energy somewhere around her almost knocks her off her feet again. She would be annoyed but then there’s a hand on her shoulder and Raven reaches out with her other hand and the metahuman who was about to rearrange her bones flinches away violently.

Raven looks at her, seemingly mindless of whatever visions she sent onto him. Cass is reminded of unclear wild lakes she used to make her home, how the seaweed would grab at her ankles sometimes, dragging her down, and her heart thumps inside her chest once, strongly, on beat and then the energy is gone and Raven with it, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

Titans missions are not within her range. Cass has never backed down from a challenge, though.

***

Duke has his ribs broken. Cass thinks it’s kind of dumb for metahumans not to have healing powers. She doesn’t think he will appreciate her opinion so she stays quiet; Barbara would call it growth.

She just keeps her arm on his shoulder as he cringes through Raven’s attempt to assess the damage with her hands. “It’s extensive,” she says, and Cass doesn’t worry; Raven’s stoic demeanour doesn’t change with the realisation.

Duke’s breath hitches. He’s about to say something and then his muscles relax and he gasps in surprise. Her brother will be okay, the momentary tension in Raven’s torso tells Cass that.

“Okay, yeah… that’s incredible,” Duke smiles at Raven and Cass squeezes his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Raven stands up, looks up from Duke right at her. It’s a small gesture, a flicker but Cass feels like she needs to stand her ground against it. “It seems pointless to create superhumans and not let them heal themselves, doesn’t it?”

Cass laughs, no point in keeping that in, Raven would feel her surprise and amusement anyway. She laughs and she’s glad she does because Raven seems pleased, but she shies away almost immediately. Cass wonders if Raven blushes on her chest when she’s flustered like Steph does.

“So, she does hate me,” Duke states, his voice is light but Cass sees some hurt in the lines of his mouth.

“She really likes you,” it’s true, there’s some gentleness and newfound fondness in the way Raven pressed her palms against his bruised chest.

Duke accepts her words but his body screams doubt. It’s odd how often her family would rather believe their own versions than trust her expertise.

***

She doesn’t really have a reason to be here. Well, she does – Damian has been staying between the Tower and the Manor more and more lately. Cass would lie if she said she didn’t miss his strained, expressive presence by her side in Gotham. It’s good for him to train with others, Dick said, be with heroes his age. He’s probably right but something in her rears its head to ask if its’ wrong to want her family close. Sometimes Cass can’t ignore that.

She takes a peep from inside the control room over the training hall. One of the younger boys Titans took in (Cass has never been good with names) is talking to Damian, his hands outstretched in an open, teasing manner. Damian frowns but Cass knows him, there’s no malice behind the expression.

“Vic said someone came around,” she turns around and Donna leans in the doorway, smiles at her warmly. Cass hasn’t really had much contact with her but Dick’s features when he talks about his best friend tell her everything, so she smiles back. “You should come down, I’m sure Jamie –“ ah, Cass thinks, Jamie”- would love to watch you two spar.”

Cass nods and Donna leaves. She lingers around, wondering if she should ask but also… maybe patience pays off. She considers it for a moment, shrugs off her sweatshirt and heads out of the room, leaving it draped over the back of a chair.

Cass is sure Bruce would not be happy with her motives. He should be proud of making her a strategist.

***

Cass has her routine.

It comes naturally to her at this point, every step and jump and punch rehearsed and repeated and planned out years in advance. That’s why it works, there’s no room to calculate how to land, how to twist her wrist or tense her muscles to soften the jumps and the kicks. Cass can recreate it and focus on the burn in her muscles and the clicks of her joints.  

Barbara thinks she gets it, the calming effect of repeating known movements. Cass isn’t sure she knows how to explain the pleasure in not just knowing but feeling her body has limits. She’s not sure she understands the push and pull herself.

She lands harder than necessary, sending shockwaves through her legs, when the air crackles with energy and she knows who it is before the figure materialises.

Raven has one of her hands in her coat pocket, the other one holding the sweatshirt Cass left at the Titans tower. She raises her eyebrow in tune with the hand holding the garment. “I thought I would drop this off.”

Cass can put on an act but there is no point, really. Not with most people, definitely not with Raven. “Good,” she shoots her a toothy smile.

Raven smiles back, Cass is sure it’s involuntary because she catches herself; her eyes travel around the cave briefly. Her hair is messy, the shorter pieces of her fringe must be tickling her cheek. Cass wishes she could tell if Raven notices that.

“So,” Raven says, looking back at her; the smile playing at the sides of her mouth looks voluntary this time. “I think you should invite me upstairs.”

***

So, Cass ends up on the couch with her brother’s teammate, their legs tangled together. She unbuttoned Raven’s shirt hastily, the gap in the material is small and uneven but Cass – Cass needed to see her hand against that smooth, pale landscape of skin.

Raven kisses her with purpose, her lips catching Cass’ own in tune with the hard thumping heartbeats in Cass’ chest; she thinks maybe there’s another tune coming from her, one only Raven can feel, one that guides her, one that says this is a good moment to pull away, that this is an even better moment to come back and catch Cass’ bottom lip with her teeth.

It’s a good rhythm, Cass very much likes that rhythm, especially when Raven tangles one of her hands in her messy hair and angles her head just enough to tease her lips with the tip of her tongue and her other hand travels down Cass’ back, her leg realigning between Cass’ own and oh-

-oh, that’s a very good rhythm.

***

Cass opens the door to the manor kitchen with her elbow and almost spills her iced coffee. She kind of hopes no one is around to see it but no such luck.

Bruce sits by the kitchen island, his face unshaved and a Tupperware container in his hand. He seems lost in thought when she walks in but blinks it away and says, “Morning, Cassie.”

“Morning,” she takes the seat across from him.

Bruce watches her carefully. He always watches her carefully. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” She woke up half an hour ago, but he doesn’t need to know that. Damian didn’t exactly ask her to make a day trip with him to an art gallery opening in Metropolis, but she could see how his body vibrated with pure excitement. As much as he tried to hide his hopes, he couldn’t quite crack it with her. Cass isn’t a secret fan of modern art but she is a secret fan of watching Damian talk about it with barely contained joy and passion.

Bruce probably knows it all anyway. “I’ll ask Alfred to pack you some leftovers.”

Cass is pretty sure that’s Bruce’s way of making amends. He’s probably not even sure what exactly he’s making amends for anymore but the drive is stronger. Cass remembers a brief argument she started at a patrol once, just to rile Damian up jokingly, about how much better honeydew melons were than cantaloupes. She didn’t think Bruce listened to any of their bickering but the next day she opened her fridge to find it filled with pre-cut honeydew melons.

Cass is pretty sure Alfred had nothing to do with it. The fact that she didn’t like raw vitamins bothered him too much to attempt that.

Damian bursts into the kitchen, his coat only halfway on, Ace right behind him. He snaps at her, tells her to hurry up and is out the door almost immediately so Cass gives Bruce a quick hug goodbye and skips outside right behind her brother.

It’s not until she adjusts her rear-view mirror that she notices a pink-purple mark on her collarbone, just above the hem of her shirt.

Well. Healing powers don’t mean anything if you don’t use them.

***

“That’s a lot of fruit,” Raven frowns at her fridge.

Cass is chopping vegetables through onion-induced tears, so she just signs “yeah” and tries to explain Bruce’s fruit-based love language. Raven checks on the stir fry on Cass’ barely used stove, frowning more through the story.

Raven detangled herself from Cass’ arms earlier that evening, declared her eating habits sad, and send her to the store while rummaging through the cupboards to find kitchen utensils. Cass doesn’t mind, really; her diet consists mostly of beef jerky and chicken ramen; she’s pretty sure Raven’s vegan.

“So, you have a fridge full of your father’s love,” Raven teases; her brow smooths and she points her spoon at Cass. “Something about you just makes people want to feed you, I guess.”

Raven put on her oversized men’s flannel and left the buttons undone so Cass can trail down the hollow of her throat, through the valley between the slopes of her breasts, down the line of her stomach to the waistband of the boxers she also stole from Cass.

“I guess,” she repeats.

Turns out cilantro tastes like soap. Cass washes the aftertaste out between Raven’s thighs.

***

Whatever they have going on between them, whatever it is that they settle into at the end of the day - it's unlike any other relationship Cass experienced before.

She's not unfamiliar with friendships. Her and Steph build a camaraderie based on incessant picking each other up and pushing and pulling and laughing and crying for each other and together. Cass knows what it's like to settle into couch cushions with Steph, pretend like neither of them is enjoying the horrible, cheesy movie they put on and mock all the parts that actually pull on their heartstrings. She knows what it's like to fall asleep to a TV playing and wake up with her face pressed into Steph's shoulder

She doesn't know if she can describe what settling on the couch with Raven feels like but it's nothing like that.

They stumbled upon a random channel in Albanian one night; Cass isn't fully sure why she has that one or why Raven speaks Albanian well enough to understand the movie; she chooses not to question some choices. Cass lounged on Raven’s chest lazily, listening to her running commentary, the light from the TV flirting with the darkness behind her closed eyes. She’s pretty sure she could feel Raven’s hand caressing her naked back at some point. Pretty sure.

Cass fell asleep with her face pressed into the rise of Ravens chest and woke up against her cushions, Raven already gone.

Cass knows dating and she knows sex. This isn’t dating, she thinks, and granted – her track record of that might not be the best. There was Kon who just didn’t feel right in the end, and there was Zero who was nice and sweet and that was all he was and there was Brenda who… there was Brenda and they never got a chance.

She knows what’s supposed to be there, though. She knows what Barbara really says when she asks Dick to check in through the comm. She knows what Tim meant when he offered to help Steph with one of her classes. This isn’t dating because neither of them offers and neither of them asks.

This is sex and it's physical and that's odd because nothing about the way Raven moves is physical. It's odd because sex is a conversation, it can be a tense one, full of awkward silences or bitten back comments, it can be a teasing back and forth. Cass knows that better than most, she knows that what is being said is more important than how it's said.

She wants to focus on how Raven says it, though, she wants to focus on how Raven found the sensitive spot on her shoulder immediately, on how she catches Cass' earlobe with her lips and pushes her legs apart just as the wanton wave in her chest starts to rise.

Because the problem is, for the first time, Cass isn't sure what is being said.

That makes her uneasy. But she thinks she would miss it if she were to wake up with her face against the cushions again.

***

The world almost ended; it feels like the world is trying to end itself every other week so there's always work for Cass to do.

She's pretty sure the work caused her internal bleeding, though, and Raven seems to agree. Her hands feel cold and delicate and Cass' head is swirling like Alfred put it through a blender, her chest, her stomach feeling like they caved in after years of unnecessary and unexpected pressure.

The stony weight in her chest dissipates, it tingles away, pins and needles in her stomach and chest until she can breathe again. Cass opens her eyes and three figures hover over her, their concern heavy in the tension of their muscles even through hard panes of their costumes. She swats her hand at Bruce and Duke, she doesn't dare extend the gesture to Raven. Cass rarely can make out clear lines of her body like she can now; Raven is worried and she's holding it back.

She opens her mouth to reassure them, them or her, but Raven tugs the top of her costume down over her stomach, covering the skin that should be bruised and mauled. She lays her hand there momentarily, meeting Cass' eyes and before Cass can take her in, she's up and she's away, checking on someone else's injuries.

Bruce helps her up while Duke blinks in disbelief. He doesn't have to clarify what he means when he says, "You are unbelievable."

Bruce thinks he means the stunt she pulled to get her stomach smashed in and launches into a longish telling-off. Cass lets him. There's only love and concern in his stance.

Bruce checks on her later and tells her to take the pilot seat in the Batplane.

"You know, Cass," Dick pipes up from somewhere behind her and if he comments on her piloting again, she might throw something at him. "It's nice to see you get along with Titans, you could make some good friends there."

"It's true, Cassie," Bruce agrees.

Cass can't turn around to look at Duke, but she can imagine his face. "Unbelievable," he sighs like he's in pain.

Her family really should trust her intuition more. Theirs barely ever works.

***

People in Gotham wind up scared to death and it's not Scarecrow so Cass takes Dick's expertise and goes to the best source she knows. Bruce grumbles about metahumans in Gotham so Dick tells him "you can tell her that yourself" which shuts Bruce up. Cass thinks it's funny because Raven makes her ask for straws in restaurants.

"It looks like Phobia," Raven frowns at the Titans computer with Batman's files displayed. She's not worried or anxious, there's a bit of a weight in her shoulders, some disappointment in the realisation that someone else might not have caught but Cass can see it from where she's perched on the conference table. Raven looks sad and even more so, she looks human and Cass thinks she hasn't thought that about Raven before - not with both of them clothed.

There must be a story there, Cass might not know the details but she thinks she understands the emotions behind it.

"I'm sorry," she doesn't mean it to express her guilt because she has no place in that story. Cass heard it said this way before instead, the way that invites to share the burden or says that you already have and she's not sure why she wants to say it like this but - she does want to. She hopes she knows how, that the words sound correct.

Raven turns around to look at her and Cass knows she understood. She grips the edges of the table hard as Raven's hands slip over her own, opens her legs apart to let her slot herself in that space. Her stomach is tight, wounding itself up in knots and she touches Ravens cheek, her jaw, her lips with her fingertips like she's trying to read her. Maybe she is, because Cass can't figure out what Raven is saying by letting her breath warm up the air between their faces, breaking their eye contact by pressing her cheek against Cass' own like she doesn't actually want to be seen but Raven’s hands move away from her hands and slide up Cass' thighs, underneath the hem of her hoodie dress and Cass thinks oh.

Oh. She offered. She's not sure if Raven asked but she offered and this isn't sex, Cass thinks as Raven's hand slides to her inner thigh and up and through one of the fishnet holes.

This is comfort, this isn't her just offering comfort, this is both of them seeking it out. This is companionship and this is blood rushing to her head even before feeling Raven’s careful, delicate touch and this is her heartbeat seeming uneven and her hand resting on the back of Raven’s head and her other hand grabbing onto Raven’s sweater before the thought of it enters her mind.

Oh, they are really in it now.

***

It's not unfamiliar but it's different. It should make Cass feel more uneasy. It should make her feel uneasy that she can't read Raven well enough to know why she responds, just how she responds.

Some bodies are confusing, she knows that, they move according to whatever inner logic they construct and Cass doesn't always know how they tell themselves these stories and they don't always make sense to her but they are always consistent. They follow the internal storyline and she might not understand the world-building but she gets the plot points.

Ravens storyline feels and looks... fragmented, broken up, like she put together different pieces that lack context, that don't follow the same storytelling rules. She lays next to Cass, her body soft and pliable and then she will doze off and tense in her sleep like she's keeping watch but Cass knows nightmares and she knows Raven doesn't have those. Sometimes Raven whispers into her skin but Cass never understands the language, she's not sure if Raven is even speaking to her because it feels private, it feels like Raven’s confirming something for herself only. They will head out to grab food and Raven will fix her jacket collar, brush her fingers across Cass' face and move away, her body devoid of meaning.

Cass can't understand the narrative but the scenes she catches onto, the lines and settings she grabs onto because it feels impossible to just let them hang there - it carves itself in her bones, it makes her feel like the energy that enters the room with Raven is thrumming through her fingertips, her nerve endings. There's the power and there's Raven; Raven is the power but she's also the delicacy and the phone calls she misses just to search the number and the reality shows that she doesn't like but they still make her laugh and the passionfruit allergy Cass only knows she ignores because she can taste the tartness on her tongue.

She knows the story is there but she can't access it. She's not sure if Raven can or if- or if she just doesn't want Cas to do so.

Cass should be concerned but the pit in her stomach isn't concern. It's worse.

Raven is in Gotham now; she's not so much chasing a hunch but rather following her gut and so Cass decides to follow her own on a different matter.

So, she throws herself into patrolling the west side because she knows Raven and Dick are on the east side. Gotham picked tonight to rest, it's a quiet patrol which is unfortunate as Cass would love to punch her feelings out. She mopes around on a gargoyle, considers calling Oracle and hiding in her holo-room instead but then there's a flash of yellow and Duke lands lightly on his feet in front of her. He looks extremely unimpressed.

"I think Batman likes to brood on the west side gargoyles more. You should try those," he's teasing but she thinks there's some truth to that.

"I'm not brooding," it sounds weak and Cass can't even blame her disability on that.

Duke looks at her sceptically and then really looks at her. Cass wants to grab her grapple gun and swing away from his gaze but he speaks up quicker than she expected him to. "You're actually not. Oh wow. You're really in it now."

Cass loves her brothers more than anything; there's nothing she wouldn’t do to stop any harm coming their way. That doesn't stop her from half-heartedly throwing one of her Batarangs at Duke.

She knew he would dodge it.

***

Cass can't hide from Raven, not really, maybe she doesn't want to. Raven finds her in the Batcave and she doesn't have to say that Gotham is getting to her, this time the tension in her body is clear.

So, she lets Raven whisk them away. The metaphysics of Ravens travel isn't Cass' favorite but she can forgive it. The sand under her naked body feels nice and cool, goosebumps rising along her arms and legs and she stretches out to uncover more skin.

Cass looks to the side and Raven seems lost in thought, her thumb going over the material of the jacket Cass threw over her shoulders. The small bonfire Cass lit to sooth the goosebumps on Raven’s legs illuminates her but doesn't add any warmth. It casts shadows on the few exposed bits of skin; Cass wants to piece together a story from the shapes playing out.

"We just try to change it, but it always seems to bounce back," Raven says, lips glistening in the warm light; Cass doesn't know the world-building, but she catches the plot point.

"Then we do it because it makes sense," Cass says, stumbling over the words only a little, and Raven looks at her, really looks at her, and the goosebumps on Cass' skin have little to do with the breeze and the ocean roars in her ears.

She thinks Raven is piecing together her own story from the shadows behind her words and the pit in her chest tightens but maybe she wants to push through that-

-but then the jacket drops from her shoulders and Raven has sand on her skin and she tastes like Cass.

***

Dick swings on the bars like his joints have no limits on the angles they can take and Cass copies the moves, Steph following suit. She tends to neglect stretching and flexibility part of her training sometimes but her muscles start to burn quickly, reminding her why it's not optional.

Dick lands steadily, takes a look at the clock on the gym wall and grabs the towel Barbara throws at him. "Gotta go. I'm taking Raven to lunch, she can't leave Gotham without trying the vegan Nightwings."

"She doesn't like them," Cass says automatically and chokes on her water when Dick turns to her puzzled.

"So, that's why I barely see you anymore," Barbara teases as Steph laughs hard and Cass puts her hoodie over her head to pretend she's not there.

When she emerges again, Dick looks like he's investigating the case of his lifetime. "I didn't even know Raven was gay."

"She could be bisexual, " Steph throws her arm over Cass' shoulders. "I get it, she has that whole mysterious Victorian ghost shtick going on, like you just want her to hold your face and recite Charlotte Brontë," she stops, freezes a little in her confusion. "Am I bisexual?"

Dick's puzzlement turns into full shock. "Wait, we thought you knew."

"Listen, Cass," says Barbara firmly. Cass has to focus on her words through Steph's rambling right next to her ear, "however you feel, she knows. And she's still here."

Barbara doesn't read people like Cass does but she does know her.

The narrative straightens itself in the tiniest way. Cass thinks that's enough.

***

Maybe Raven is haunted by emotions like Cass is haunted by bodies. Maybe they are both haunted by narratives.

Maybe Raven is haunted by the power the way Cass is haunted by the delicacy.

Maybe it's offering and asking and along the way they both stopped asking.

***

Raven brings Phobia down with her and Duke is there to catch her; he checks Phobia’s pulse and her breathing and Cass let's him, her body is loose and her breathing is shallow but it's steady. It's not her priority and it doesn't have to be.

Raven feels and looks drained and Cass is there to fall with her, cushion her knees when they hit the floor, hold her back steady with her arm. She reaches up to brush Ravens hair off her face; she will tell her later to stop leaving it down when costumed because that's just not safe but maybe Raven's perception isn't affected by such earthly things and so maybe she will ask instead-

-and Raven looks at her as Cass' fingers brush her temple and her chest blooms instead of tightening under Raven's steady eyes, so Cass follows her gut and tilts Raven's head up to meet her lips with her own.

"Guys, not right now," Duke groans behind her.

"You knew?!" Cass isn't sure when Dick found them but she doesn't care, not with how Raven hides her face in the bat on her chest because now Cass knows that Raven does blush on her chest when she's embarrassed.

She hides her own face in Raven's hair and it smells like sandalwood. It smells like Cass' own shampoo.

***

Cass sneaks through the Manor halls with purpose until Bruce steps in her path while leaving his office. He stops so she follows, even though it takes him a moment to come up with words. It's okay, she knows the feeling.

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," he offers; he looks awkward and embarrassed but his voice sounds steady.

 Cass meets his gaze. "Kon," she says; it's enough to make Bruce cringe with understanding.

He doesn't need to offer apologies, he's been trying to do so for years and now her fridge is full of honeydew melons. They stand there for a moment; Cass can see Bruce is piecing together the shadows. "That girl from Blüdhaven-"

"Brenda," Cass cuts in; the sting is there but it doesn't linger. "I really liked her."

Bruce nods. "Ask if she'd like to stay for dinner. Alfred will make her anyway but it's polite."

Cass smiles and sneaks past him, squeezing his arm briefly.

***

Cass slips inside the guest bedroom Raven took during her stay, closes the door behind her.

Raven is sitting at the foot of the bed, her cape in one of her hands, a sewing needle in the other, mending a hole she must have accidentally ripped at some point last night. Cass is sure Alfred would take care of it if Raven left the cape here but maybe that's too close to asking for her. Or maybe Raven likes to keep parts of her to herself just that much. Cass will be sure to ask later.

She sits next to her, loops her arm around Raven's back to keep herself up while she drops a kiss onto Raven’s shoulder. "Stay for dinner?"

Raven smiles, sets the needle and the cape aside carefully.

***

They are late for dinner, Raven thinks cantaloupes are superior, and Bruce looks like he has a headache.

Dating is nice, Cass thinks.

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Twenty Seven: Retribution

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Twenty Seven: Retribution

Notes: Ah yes. I’ve been waiting for two damn weeks for you all to get to read this one. This is going to be a wild time. Buck up and get ready for turbulence!

(-~-)

The air in the open cavern was practically statically charged as the three descendants of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda navigated their way through the dense underbrush, their coats catching on every conceivable obstacle and slowing them down slightly. The eldest of the twins was clearly in a hurry for some sudden and unidentified reason, and seemed to be just shy of an actual panic fueled sprint, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by his youngest son and his younger identical twin. Considering Vergil’s generally calm and collected demeanor that bordered on cold dismissal at times, this sudden uptake in barely concealed panic was actually extremely unnerving to his compatriots, especially Nero.

Although he had not spent his entire life around his father, Nero was keen enough to realize that Vergil shouldn’t be walking at what could be charitably described as a light sprint through an area that they had no familiarity with and that was inhabited by a sinister death cult that apparently served a particularly worrisome demon. He had warned both Nero and V against doing that very thing just before V had explained enough of his plan to them to get them to go along with it. If only they could go back to that more innocent time before all of this had happened. But perhaps it was better this way. At least they knew what they were up against now. That had been V’s intention in the first place.

Nero could practically still see the look on Vergil’s face when V had confidently advised the two of them that he planned to be captured so that he might learn more about the inner-workings of the cult that stalked him so relentlessly. Vergil had immediately objected, something that V seemed to anticipate. But he’d reminded his father that both he and Nero had made it into adulthood by going off of their gut instinct and doing what they thought was right. He’d rightly concluded that learning about their opponents could be invaluable, especially when it came to light that they might be more numerous than they had originally anticipated just a short while ago. And when V had reminded his father that they had agreed to work together in regards to solving this issue, Vergil had hesitantly caved, clearly regretting the statement.

Trusting both of his sons was something that he generally didn’t have too much of an issue with. They both came off to him as honest and deserving of his confidence in their capabilities. But when it came to plans that could get them severely injured or even killed Vergil was much less flexible. Nero could only guess that the eldest Son of Sparda had agreed to do so in the hopes that it might instill something in V. Perhaps to show that he had confidence in his ability to think things through in light of the stern talking to that he’d just give them both about wandering off into unknown situations and areas without a plan? That was all that Nero could glean from it. But regardless, he himself had been willing to do what V thought was right. He’d seen his intellect in action before in Redgrave City, and anyone who could stealth his way thought that forsaken hellscape by themselves with summons that he now knew he’d only just acquired was capable of making an infallible plan.

But how could any of them have planned for the eventuality that a super powerful demon might be bankrolling a den of somewhat capable summoners?

Nero certainly wouldn’t have. He’d never even heard of that type of demon before. A demon prince? Why was there more than one of them? Were they all related to one another, or was it a ranking that they had earned through power and intimidation or something of the like? Nero had no way of knowing outside of asking one of his companions, so he intended to do just that. But he got the distinct feeling that Vergil was in no mood to discuss the finer points of underworld leadership with him at a time like this.

“So this demon… Is he a friend of yours or something? You seem like you’ve met him before.” Nero said as he approached Vergil from behind. The devil slayer had halted his ceaseless march through the thick underbrush in favor of simply cutting through the section they were facing. Why go the long way around when you could go through, especially when so much was at risk and they were seemingly so far from their destination?

Vergil swung the blade once, at least from what Nero could tell. A moment later, the tall pine tree in front of them toppled over noisy and crushed a nearby boulder, cracking it down the middle. One could only assume that the element of surprise was no longer his father’s main concern. That fact alone was enough to put Nero on edge, but the fact that Dante seemed to be waiting for a reply didn’t help. The youngest of the three normally looked to the two oldest members of his family for assistance with matters he didn’t know about. This was one of those matters. The realization that Dante didn’t seem to know either startled him. Having to possibly go up against a demon that only one of them knew anything about wasn’t the kind of bet he liked to take these days, especially after how spectacularly bad things had gone just two months prior.

“... We’ve had occasion to interact with one another. He’s a rare breed, both cunning and capable, with the patience to sit and wait for an opportunity for as long as he deems necessary. But when he decides to strike…” Vergil stopped talking for a moment, seemingly considering something. His lack of comfort with the situation at hand only grew stronger the longer he had to acknowledge the fact that things had come to this.” When I returned from the Underworld, I was in a considerably weakened state. Belial helped put me there. Doing battle against him at that point would’ve been foolish. The wounds he dealt me part of the reason I was so eager to reclaim Yamato upon returning to the human world.”

Dante let out a long, deep sigh, taking in the gravity of his older brother’s sentiment. It was not every day that he had to go up against the kind of demon that could give Vergil a run for his money, even if he was in a vulnerable state. Even at his lowest, the oldest Son of Sparda was far above the pay grade of the vast majority of Hell’s denizens. And the fact that he’d managed to actually wound Vergil to the point where he had to basically make a tactical retreat to the human world to escape him didn’t bode well.

“What do you think he wants with V? Did you throw some of those fancy insults his way and manage to rile him up or something? Because if he holds grudges anything like Mundus did...” Dante started and then trailed off, not even slightly interested in revisiting that chapter of his life. He had enough things to worry about at present without adding his past transgressions to them.

Nero gave them both a sideways look, internally questioning himself as to what the hell they were both talking about. “Who’s Mundus?”

The younger member of the group could practically feel Vergil die inside at the mention of that name. For a moment, he seemed to visibly recoil in discomfort at the prospect of talking about it. That alone was enough of an answer for Nero, at least for the time being. After all, they were going against this Belial and his right hand man Agreus, right? This wasn’t the time to have things get bogged down in the details. All he needed to know for the time being was who to put a bullet in, and how many it would take to put them down for good so that they could leave this place and it’s problems behind them. V didn’t need to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder in anticipation of another attack, and they didn’t need to be constantly worried about him.

“You know what? Nevermind. I have a better question.” Nero said as Dante turned towards him, seemingly about to answer in his older twin’s stead. The demon hunter in red nodded as if to ask him to continue.” How would this demon even know about V? I mean, you said you fought him before, but you didn’t even know about us back then. How could he know V existed without you knowing first?”

Vergil stayed quiet for another moment, felling another thick section of the almost maze-like section of woods that they found themselves in at the end of his razor sharp blade. He looked just about ready to simply fly over the area and search for V that way, but he hadn’t made the decision to do so just yet.

“I knew about him. I didn’t know about you. And I have no theories as to how he found out.” Vergil said in an almost resigned tone. With the revelation that Belial was their opponent, ever passing second felt like an eternity. He needed to know that V was safe, and that was not something that he could achieve from this distance. ”As for a reason for him to do this... I don’t have one. Belial is above things as petty as grudges. He cares little for minor infractions. He only surfaces when he wants something from-”

As if he’d been hit head on in the face by something, Vergil stopped dead in his tracks. In that instant, he figured out what it was that the cult might be after. And the very idea of it was enough to send him into a frantic roulette of negative possibilities, reducing his mind to little more than a revolving door of nightmare scenarios. As if to compliment the hopeless atmosphere, the conduit suddenly let off another shockwave of energy, this one considerable stronger than the last. The trees bend backwards far enough to touch the ground and the cavern shook violently as parts of the cave shook violently in response to the blast, sending the three devil hunters backwards onto the ground with a thud. An audible screech somewhat akin to the sounds that Gilgamesh had made during Nero’s battle with it in Redgrave City rattled the air around them, irritating their ears somewhat.

Just a second later, a second, decidedly different shockwave erupted across the landscape, not so much shaking things as much as it seemed to bathe them in a dark energy. It was thick and fleeting, only lasting a moment before dissipating. The major difference was the effect it had on the descendants of the Dark Knight Sparda. For a brief moment, the three of them triggered before reverting back to their more human forms and leaving the trio as startled as they were disoriented.

Before any of them could climb all the way to their feet, the sound of metal bending against its will followed by a loud, blood curdling scream echoed through the space between them and the conduit, earning a startled look from Nero as he took a moment to consider what might have just happened. Vergil seemed literally frozen in place, be it from disbelief or terror he couldn’t say. His father’s face was literally unreadable. But Dante’s reaction was a bit easier to gauge. The devil hunter in red practically burst into laughter, shaking his head in what had to be disbelief as he clambered to his feet and adjusted his posture before summoning his blade and walking in the direction of the commotion. Vergil slowly adjusted his posture and joined him, although still with a certain degree of hesitation that Nero found unsettling and hard to quantify.

“... What the fuck was that?” Nero asked as he followed along after them, the group now speeding up their pace in silent acknowledgement of the situation and it's possible consequences. The youngest of the three could swear he’d felt something like that before, but couldn't pinpoint the precise moment when he’d experienced it. But regardless, he couldn’t help but notice it. There was a certain uncanny familiarity to it that he’d be remiss to overlook. And he had a feeling he was about to find out what it was.

(-~-)

For a moment, V’s entire brain seemed to lack the ability to process the gravity of the injury that had been dealt to him. He blinked slowly, not so much feeling his heartbeat as he was hearing it. The same went for his breath as he drew in slow, deliberate drags of air in a desperate attempt to not teeter over the edge into unconsciousness. His sight was crystal clear for the first time since he’d been brought down there, and that was mostly due to the fact that he was in such an astounding amount of pain that he was probably staring straight up in the air with an exasperated look on his face that would honestly be quite funny if it wasn’t due to the fact that he had a knife stuck between his trapezius and his clavicle.

And he absolutely did despite every wish that he had otherwise.

In all honesty, he’d expected of the deranged madman to stab him in the chest or cut his throat, but the idea of being stabbed downward in the space between his shoulder blade and his throat had never crossed his mind. And he was now positive that it was his least favorite place to be stabbed, because to say it was excruciating would’ve been an undeniable understatement. His entire chest and throat area on his left side felt like it was on fire, and he was pouring blood from the severed artery that had been severely punctured by the blade. V wouldn’t have been shocked to find out that the blade had narrowly missed his heart or the top of one of his lungs due to the angle and the length of the blade involved, especially since it was still stuck in his shoulder. Should he consider himself lucky or cursed?

Content with his handiwork, Agreus had simply dropped him onto the ground after he’d stabbed him, the aura of pleasure that radiated off of him at the sight of V so near death unmistakable even through a featureless mask. And as he laid there, not entirely sure how he was going to get out of that situation, a low, barreling, and entirely inhuman voice came from within the conduit behind him. And it seemed thoroughly displeased.

“You are entirely too eager to please me, servant. I told you I needed him alive!”

Agreus backpedaled slightly at the statement, clearly rattled. “And he shall be, Master. I simply had to be sure. What are a few wounds to one with the blood of a devil coursing through their veins? Even one as weak as this boy?”

V would’ve vocalized his feelings about such a statement, but he couldn’t find the mental energy to. The only thing he could feel aside from the lethargy that came with the massive blood loss he’d suffered through was the sensation of something powerful welling up from within him. The latent power that he’d felt activate when he’d first been brought near the conduit seemed to trickle down through the rest of his body, and now it was spreading like a wildfire. As Agreus and the disembodied voice spoke to one another, V teetered ever closer to the edge, but what that edge was, he couldn’t say. The murky depths beckoned, and he was tempted to give in to that call if only to quench the all consuming fire that burned within him. And to fulfill his desire for revenge.

“Do not assume to know how my kind function, servant. You are not one of us. Now give me what I came here for and leave before you prematurely deprive me of what little usefulness you still possess.”

The young summoner could practically feel Agreus flinch at his master’s order before he bowed and turned to face him again. V was actually somewhat surprised to see that the demon that the cultist served seemed to actually think less of him than he did. In truth, he didn’t know how that could even be possible. “As you wish, Master. It shall be done.”

V wasn’t sure what caused it to happen, but the moment that cultist in white stepped towards him, something inside of him shifted. The thin line that he’d walked for the last little while practically snapped and crumbled beneath him, sending him plummeting into the darkness that he felt welling up from within him. For a brief moment, V closed his eyes. And as he reopened them, he caught a glimpse of Agreus as he stopped dead in his tracks in stunned terror. And then all hell broke loose.

With a sudden cascade of power that he couldn’t honestly believe had originated from him, a shockwave of black and green energy erupted from within him and shot out across the entire area on a collision path with everything in sight as he was overtaken by the overwhelming force of nature that was his initial transformation. The metal loop that had previously bound him suddenly felt like a cheap toy in comparison to the  rush of strength and adrenaline that he’d been hit with. He had no idea what he was capable of doing in that moment, but one thing was for certain: he knew he could break free of his restraints and give Agreus a taste of his own medicine.

And he planned to do just that.

It took basically no effort for him to snap free from the restraints. The metal pulley strained against his resolve and crumbled shortly after. It had only been strong enough to hold him when he was in a more vulnerable state, but in that moment, it lost the battle and toppled over against the ground, slamming onto the stone surface of the altar with a powerful thud that sent the cultist toppling over. Since V was already on the ground, it took very little effort for him to grab a hold of his aggressor and pin him down with his right arm. Unfortunately, the muscles in his left arm still burned painfully.

As if instinctively, it occurred to V in that moment that he still owed Agreus a parting gift. He had made the decision to give as good as he'd gotten, and he intended to make good on that promise. In an act born purely of his desire to help educate his captor as to what it felt like to be stabbed in the leg with a ceremonial dagger, V used his right hand to grip the handle of the bladed instrument and pulled it from his neck in one swift, painful moment. Regardless of his extreme discomfort with the action, it had to come out one way or another. He then immediately turned the blade on Agreus and stabbed him in the upper thigh in precisely the same spot that he'd inflicted his wound and withdrew the blade, keeping a grip on it. Although he now possessed a set of razor sharp claws and fangs, he was aware that possessing a knife was an advantageous strategy, even if he was far from proficient with one.

The cultist cried out in pain and jumped to his feet, stumbling back towards the edge of the conduit as it split down the middle, black energy still radiating from it. V somehow managed to drag himself to his feet, but found that he was far from steady as he stumbled forward and fell over to one side, making impact with the ground again. He winced at the unwanted contact and attempted to stand back up, intent on finishing off Agreus before he could make his escape. Just as his long, needle-like nails made contact with the cult leader’s exposed neck, the man in white stumbled back and crashed through the rift in the conduit. The collision triggered some sort of adverse reaction that caused the rift to crumble as it sent forth another powerful shockwave, sending V flying backwards into the shallow black waters of the corrupted pool.

Upon landing in the cursed black water, V gasped and jumped back out of it, his strength and triggered state rapidly regressing as he dragged himself over to the edge of the stone tablet and towards what he assumed to be the exit. As he went, he pocketed the blade and caught sight of the book that the cultist had been carrying. Unwilling to pass up an opportunity to examine it if he made it out of the collapsing cavern alive, he slumped over and picked it up, tucking it away for later. He had entrusted his own book to Vergil back at the entrance before they'd enacted the plan, so he had more than enough room to store it on his person.

The cavern crumbled around him in small sections as the conduit continued to shudder and buckle, breaking off into pieces and falling in the pool of water below. V gradually slowed as he went, despite the fact that he was attempting to move quicker in order to escape. Where was everyone? Had they been led astray by the vast network of tunnels that snaked through the earth to reach this place? One could only hope that wasn’t the case. And even if they were with him, would they see him in the pitch black darkness of the cave? He was soaked head to toe in a mixture of the black liquid from the conduit and his own blood, much to the dismay of the non-sentient white shirt Kyrie had talked him into wearing. At least it was now a color more to his liking.

Every cloud.

His injured leg and neck burned as he limped along, more or less unsure as to where he was actually going. Despite the fact that more light was being let in from the holes in the roof of the cavern, his own vision was dimming. Without the extra dose of adrenaline in his system from his involuntary trigger, he was hopelessly low on blood and the energy to carry on much longer. The only upside was that his injuries had ceased bleeding during his transformation, the rush of demonic power more or less acting as a band-aid during the process. His body had patched itself up as much as it possibly could given the circumstances, but he knew that he was still wounded and weak. He couldn't last much longer in such a state, especially lost and alone with nowhere to go.

What he wouldn’t have done for Griffon to be by his side.

Or his cane...

Or for the energy and know how to trigger a second time.

He was almost certain that he’d possessed wings for a moment.

Just as he reached a small open patch in the underbrush, a familiar voice called out to him. V glanced up from the ground he’d been too weak to look up from and shuttered slightly at the sight before him. Standing across the clearing from him were Dante, Vergil, and Nero, more than likely just as surprised to see him as he was to see them. Upon catching sight of the sorry state that he was in, they rushed forward to meet him, and not a moment too soon. Vergil managed to get within an arm's reach of him before he crumbled like wet cardboard in a storm and his legs buckled, sending him crashing face first into his bewildered parent.

Vergil kneeled down to make eye contact with the young summoner, allowing him to simply slump over on him as he caught his breath. Although he was not unconscious, it didn’t take a particularly keen eye to realize that there was no way he was walking out of there. V had long since reached his breaking point, and there was no going any further. The devil slayer in blue took a moment to quietly take in the sight before him, the gravity of the situation not lost on him. Although he didn’t say it (or anything at all) as Vergil quietly placed his hand on the back of V’s injured shoulder to covertly assess the damage, he was quite proud of him for making it as far as he had with so little still left in him. Anyone present could tell that he'd struggled considerably to arrive at the location that he had in such short order, especially without the assistance of his family. V’s true strength came from his willpower and refusal to lay down and die at the hands of his enemies, and Vergil couldn’t help but respect that. It was a similar sentiment.

“... You should rest. Do not try to get up.” Vergil said almost breathlessly, relief settling over him and he turned towards Dante and Nero. The two of them had been standing a few feet behind him, giving them the space that they clearly needed. “Take him for a moment.”

Nero stepped forward without any form of hesitation, no consideration for the heart attack all the blood he'd be soaked in as a result would probably cause Kyrie when they next met passing through his mind. He would worry about that when they were out of there. Dante hovered around the three of them, trying and mostly succeeding in his attempts to hide his concern. His body language gave it away more than anything else. The devil hunter in red was simply relieved to see that V was still breathing, especially considering how bad he looked. There really was something to him, wasn’t there? While he had no idea what had transpired down there, he knew what had just happened to V. All of them did, though the younger of the twin Sons of Sparda wasn't entirely sure if Nero had clued into it just yet. That kind of power was unmistakable.

Vergil took the opportunity to unsheath Yamato and open up a portal to another location before turning towards Nero and Dante. “Go. I’ll take him.”

The two shared a curious look before wordlessly following his lead. This wasn’t the time for questions, and wherever the gate led had to be better than where they were, if only for the fact that it probably wasn't a collapsing cave. As soon as they’d passed through, Vergil kneeled over and brushed off the breathless attempt that V made to offer to stand and simply scooped him up, carrying him bridal style through the portal. The young summoner attempted to protest for a moment before caving to his father's silent demands. V closed his eyes and finally allowed exhaustion to settle over him in earnest, letting out a sigh of relief and discomfort. There was no point in trying to accomplish anything else, not with the state he was in.

As Vergil approached the portal, he paused for a moment. The desire to go and do a quick check of the area to try and assess what they'd been up to was almost overwhelming, but he knew that V couldn't spare that kind of time. He would have to return after he'd seen to it that both of his troublemaking spawn were somewhere less hazardous. A quick glance down confirmed that V was still conscious, though less so than he had been moment's prior. And in that moment, it seemed that the cold irony of the situation settled over the Darkslayer. Vergil had followed through on his prior threat back at the hotel after all.

He’d found something to carry after all.

(-~-)

Oh, boy, this is going to be one hell of a comment section. I’m excited and scared to see what everyone is going to say all at once. It took me so long to write this chapter that I can’t even put it into words. Thanks again for all of you awesome support, and I’ll see you next Wednesday! I’ll keep you posted on my possible upcoming work hours. I’ve been off work since before Soliloquy started, but I’m going to try my hardest to keep the same upload schedule. Wish I could just get paid to stay at home and write for you all!

[destiel-love-forever]

Fireworks & Falling in Love

Castiel

“Dean! Come here!”

I look in the same direction as Sam, wondering which one of these people could be his brother. I nearly gasp when the man working the grill just a few feet away looks up. He’s not who I expected.

Not at all.

Whereas Sam is a complete nerd with his sweaters and his books and his green tea, Dean is… damn. Dean Winchester is sex on a god damn stick. He’s wearing low-hanging shorts and a ‘kiss the cook’ apron with no shirt beneath. Tattoos swirl around his skin, covering one leg, his left arm, his left shoulder and pec, his back, his right shoulder, his right arm, and his right ribcage. The ink brings his muscles out in high definition.

I’m pretty sure I could spend the rest of my life just watching this man work a grill and I’d die a very happy man.

Things just get worse when he starts toward us. The sun shines through the tips of his hair, making it nearly glow. Freckles are scattered along his nose and cheeks. And his eyes….

His eyes are breathtaking. One glance sends me spiraling back in time to when I was a small boy, lying in the freshly cut grass on a warm summer day. I can almost feel the breeze on my face despite the fact that there’s no wind today.

“This is Cas,” I hear Sam say from a distance. It takes effort, but once I manage to force myself to look away from Dean’s eyes, I come back to my senses.

“Sammy’s roommate, yeah.” Dean wipes his hand on the apron before offering it to me. His smile is dazzling. Bright white teeth. Soft pink lips. They’re glistening as if he just licked them. I wonder what they taste like. I bet they’re good. I bet they’re damn good. “It’s great to finally meet ya.”

I open my mouth to say something polite but what comes out instead is, “You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss.”

I’m not sure what’s more awkward in the following moment. Perhaps the way Dean’s eyes widen and his head tilts like he’s unsure of what just happened. Maybe the way Sam chokes on his own spit beside me. Of course, there’s the fact that my face is so hot that I know it must be bright red.

Or, above all, it could very well be the fact that I’m still holding Dean’s hand.

I twist my wrist with the intention of breaking free but Dean just tightens his grip.

He’s recovered now. I took him by surprise, that was clear, but the man has bounced back. The smile he gives me is even more charming than before with just a hint of mischief in it. His calloused thumb runs along the curve of my finger and I’m very proud of myself for not whimpering like I desperately want to.

“You would like to kiss me,” Dean assures, his voice dipping low with lust. “I’m an excellent kisser.”

“I-” I nearly swallow my tongue and shake my head.

I don’t have 'game'. Like… at all. Never have. There’s a reason Sam and I are best friends. We both would prefer hanging out at our off-campus apartment together reading books and drinking tea than hitting a party. We’re both virgins. We’re both dorks. We go to comic con and play D&D.

We do not flirt with the Dean Winchesters of the world.

“Question is,” Dean continues. “Are you a good kisser, Cas?”

“I - well, um…” I glance over at Sam to find that he walked away.

Walked away! Can you believe that? Just abandoned me with a sex god that’s looking at me as if he wants to eat me alive! The audacity.

I am 100% messing up his alphabetized bookcase when we get back to school.

100%.

“I didn’t mean it,” I blurt out, feeling my face getting even hotter - something I didn’t know was possible.

“You didn’t mean what?”

“The… the kiss thing.”

“You didn’t mean it, or you didn’t mean to say it out loud?”

The knowing smile he gives me, as well as the one step forward so that our bodies would be pressed flush against each other if our hands weren’t in the way, lets me know Dean is fully aware of which one of those two options is the truth.

“You’re Sam's brother. I can’t kiss you.”

It’s weak.

He laughs.

“Sammy’s been in love with my best friend Gabe since the kid popped his first boner. He doesn’t get a say.”

Gabriel.

The infamous Gabriel.

Yeah… I’ve heard all about him.

Shit, shit, shit.

“In fact,” Dean whispers in my ear, crushing our joined hands against our chests. “That’s where he just went off to. He’ll be following Gabe around like a puppy all night, so we’re free to do whatever it is you’d like to do, Cas.”

I’m unable to answer.

Instead, I just close my eyes and pretend I’m not here.

After a very mischievous yet dark chuckle - one that sends shockwaves through my entire body - Dean steps back and lets go of my hands. I open my eyes to look at him, praying that he can’t see the grief I’m experiencing at the sudden loss.

“I’ll see ya around, Cas.”

“I - uh.” He turns around before I can formulate real words, heading back to the grill. A friend of his comes up and hands him a beer before the two of them start to bullshit. Dean laughs.

He doesn’t look over at me.

Not once.

“Yes,” I finally manage to whisper, even though it doesn’t matter anymore. “See ya around, Dean.”

Dean

I don't see much of Castiel after that first encounter but I'm not too concerned. From what I've heard from Sam, alongside the one interaction I've had with him, he's probably off hiding somewhere. I let him be most of the day, focusing on my friends instead. We take the boat out on the lake. We jump off the docks and swim. We play yard games. We build a bonfire as the sun goes down.

It's when the fireworks begin that I go to find Castiel.

Just as I had hoped, the boy's guard is down as he stares up at the display in the sky. It also probably helps that he's climbed onto my damn roof. He probably thinks no one will find him up here.

He startles when I come to sit beside him and I immediately put out my hand to keep him from falling. The look he gives me in return is unimpressed. It's an interesting shift from the flustered boy from before but I have to say I enjoy both versions. This one seems riled up and haughty.

I start to plot ways to make him blow.

"Wanna kiss me yet?" I tease, looking up at the sky instead of him like I could care less about his answer.

I should care less about his answer. There's no reason for me to suddenly be so hung up on one guy when I could have my pick of men, women, or non-bi's at this party.

Truth is - though I'd never admit it - I haven't hooked up with anyone in 7 months. Yeah, you heard that right. Dean fucking Winchester hasn't been laid in 7 fucking months. I've been actively avoiding any and all scenarios that would lead to a night of no strings fun this past year. It sounds cheesy, and the old me would roll over in his imaginary grave if he knew, but I'm just… over it. I'm over getting wasted every weekend. I'm over going home with people I can't name. I'm over sneaking out after they've fallen asleep to avoid any awkwardness in the mornings. I'm over eating breakfast by myself.

I want a partner. Someone to be there when I'm watching movies on a rainy night. Someone to listen when I talk about something funny that happened at work. Someone to cook dinner with as we laugh and dance to music on the radio. Someone to hold at night.

I realize that Castiel still hasn't answered me so I elbow him and ask, "What, not interested anymore? I'm hurt." I put a hand over my heart for emphasis.

He side eyes me before returning his gaze to the sky. "It's bad enough I made a fool of myself in front of my best friend's brother who I'm probably going to end up seeing more than just today. You don't have to ruin my entire 4th of July, too."

"Ruin it?"

"Yeah. I'm mortified. I'm sure you've told all of your friends." Castiel looks at me and my breath catches in surprise. Tears are in his eyes. "It's my first 4th of July where I get to be normal. I've never seen fireworks before. Please, just… just leave me alone, okay? I get that taunting the nerd with a crush is fun but-"

I cut him off by grabbing the back of his head and quickly guiding his mouth to mine. A word or two is swallowed up between us before he fully registers what's happening. He tenses for half a second but just before I can pull away to apologize, he knocks me over so I'm on my back and starts kissing me like his life depends on it. It's sexy but adorable. I'm entranced by him as he mauls me like a wild animal but does it with such clumsy moves that I know for sure he's inexperienced.

I stop him when his hand goes to my belt, rolling us back over so I'm on top of him. After a glance over my shoulder to make sure we're nowhere near the edge of the roof, I look down at him and smile softly. "One hell of a kiss there, kid."

He glares but a smile ghosts across his lips. "I'm not a kid. I'm only a few years younger than you."

"I stand corrected. That was one hell of a kiss there, young man of a considerable age." He laughs and it might just be my new favorite sound. I run a hand through his messy curls and ask, "Why have you never seen fireworks before?"

"My dad. He's a veteran and hates them. My family spends every 4th of July at the movie theater. You can't hear them in there."

I nod in understanding, thinking of my own father binge drinking every 4th of July. Though, John Winchester takes almost any excuse to binge drink, so that's not saying too much.

Just as I'm about to suggest we watch the rest of the show together, everyone starts to clap and cheer. It's the only noise in the air. The fireworks are over.

"Shit." Guilt starts to swallow me up. "I'm an asshole. You missed the show."

"It's okay… they come every year. This is-" he pauses and looks away, his cheeks pinking up enough for me to see in the darkness. He finishes - "Once in a lifetime."

"Doesn't have to be."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Sam says you never tap the same ass twice - your words, according to him."

I flinch. "That's not me anymore."

"You're just saying that to get in my pants."

"Trust me, Castiel. I have no intentions of getting in your pants tonight."

He seems to consider me for a moment before carefully nodding. “Okay.”

“Though, just to go on record - since I’ve been trying to work on communicating with friends and family better - you look like someone I’d very much like to sleep with one day.”

Castiel laughs softly. “That line sounds strangely familiar.”

“I heard it earlier from a guy that I’m starting to really like.”

“Is that so?”

“It sure is.”

“Maybe-” Castiel pauses and looks over to his left. At first I don’t know what he’s doing but then I hear the same thing he must have.

Someone is calling my name.

I look down at Castiel again, not wanting to leave him.

“Guess you have to go, hey?” The sadness in his voice makes my decision very easy.

“No.” I kiss him again. Slowly. Thoroughly. Against his lips, I whisper, “I don’t wanna be with whoever that is. I wanna be here with you.”

Castiel laughs nervously. “You barely know me.”

“So... let’s change that.”

                                                             ----                                                                

Exactly a year later, back up on that same roof, Dean Winchester proposes to Castiel Novak. At the very moment Castiel says yes, the firework show begins. They miss it again. How could they not? Castiel can’t help but make out with Dean in celebration until their lips go numb.

They miss the show the next year when they get a flat tire on the way to the 4th of July party at Sam and Gabriel’s house.

The next year they’re on their way to the beach to watch it with all of their friends when they get the phone call from their adoption agency. A 7 month old baby boy and his 3 year-old big sister were orphaned. They wanted to know if the newly married couple were interested in them.

They’re convinced their fifth show will be the lucky one. Then their son Jack has a meltdown just minutes before the show starts, hating the earmuffs they were making him wear, which set off their daughter Claire into a tantrum about her ‘stinky brother that ruins everything.’

The following year, they start their own tradition. On the 3rd of July, after receiving a permit from Sheriff Mills, they have family and friends over for a party and set fireworks off the end of the dock over the lake. They aren’t as large as the professionals, and there aren’t as many since those things are damn expensive, but Castiel still stares at them like they’re the best thing in existence.

Castiel never loses that sense of wonder. Every year that follows, when they have their 3rd of July party and firework show, he stares up at the fireworks like it’s his first time seeing them.

What Dean loves even more, though? The moment when the show ends, smoke filling the air and people clapping, when Castiel turns his head and looks at Dean with a goofy grin. Dean swears in those few seconds every year, they’re back on that roof again, two idiots that had no idea what a beautiful, messy life they were about to get into.

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[doubledeaky]

hiya it's me deakyfordays i would like to put it a request again ! i would like reader to try to embarrass joe about how deaky supposedly had the biggest you-know-what ( he totally did and you can't change my mind ) !! smut ensues !

ok this straight up made me blush like…..you are a genius @deakyfordays 

smut in under the cut, my dudes!

Ok so it’s your typical Friday night. You and Joe are sat on his big comfy couch, talking and definitely not paying attention to the movie playing in front of you both.

“Try and tell me I’m wrong!” You practically shout, flailing your arms wildly in emphasis. Joe only rolls his eyes, huffing before he buries his head in his hands. His pale skin definitely not helping to conceal the prominent blush on his cheeks.

“You are wrong.” He mumbles into his hands, not looking up for fear that his cheeks may burn a shade brighter. You scoff, plucking a cookie from the plate on the table before sitting back into the couch.

“How am I wrong?” You asks incredulously, a mouth full of sugar cookie. He sits up finally, eyes wide in disbelief, annoyed that you were still fueling this already awkward conversation.

“You have no evidence.” He says simply, shrugging as he grabs a cookie for himself and slumps back into the cushions.

“Is the fact that the man has six children not enough?” You argue, watching with a satisfactory smile as Joe grimaces, his face growing an impossibly bright shade of red.

“Ugh, can we stop talking about this? I have to play the man in a movie and you’re ruining it.” He whines, finishing his cookie and debating on whether or not he should have another. You smirk, he was too easy to embarrass and it was you’re favorite game. 

“Exactly, you have to play him in a movie and this discussion will help you develop his character.” You explain, obviously bullshitting but all in good fun. Joe furrows his brows and shifts uncomfortably in his seat before sighing.

“How exactly could talking about John Deacon’s….you-know-what help me prepare for the role?” He asks obviously exasperated, throwing himself back into the cushions and ridiculous amount of throw pillows behind him.

“I dunno. You’re the actor, figure it out.” He almost screams, flailing dramatically on the couch like a child and you hide a giggle behind your hand. 

“There is no harm in research.” 

“You call this research.” He deadpans, gesturing to the small amount of space between you. 

“Hey, whatever helps.” You say, trying to hold back a laugh as you sip at your class of water. He groans, laying down on the couch, his head finding a place in your lap. You coo down at him, running your free hand through his hair, feeling guilty for teasing him but then adopting a sly smirk as an idea pops into your head.

“Joe, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with feeling insecure about your dick size. A lot of guys go…” He abruptly sits up from his position on the couch, giving you a crazed almost dumfounded look.

“Woah, wait. Who said anything about me being insecure?” He gapes, seemingly shocked you would say anything resembling your previous statement.

“I feel like it was implied.” You shrug, hiding your smirk behind your glass. He stutters, his cheeks returning to their formally red hue.

“I am not insecure about my…dick size.” He whispers the last part, twiddling his fingers and avoiding your eyes. You smile, patting his cheek gently.

“That’s great, Joe. I’m proud of you for accepting the fact that John Deacon has a bigger dick than you.” You can already see the storm brewing behind Joe’s eyes and you’re loving it.

“I never said that! When was that ever implied?” He shouts, his hand gesturing wildly and your laughs are almost drowned out by his animated screaming. 

“Joe, relax. I’ll take your word for it.” You say mockingly but Joe seems to take it as a challenge. 

“John Deacon’s dick is not bigger than mine.” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Prove it.” You laugh, giving him a challenging look, both brows raised. 

Then his hands are pinning your wrist down onto the couch, his chest is pressed against yours, his lips are pressed to your ear, breathing sending shivers throughout your entire body. Your eyes are blown wide in surprise and you can barely register anything other than Joe and how close his hips are to yours. 

“Why do you like to tease me, Y/N?” He growls lowly in your ear, grip on your wrist tightening. You whimper, already feeling a heat growing in your belly at his words. 

“I-I don’t-” You stutter but he cuts you off which a harsh roll of his hips against yours. You can feel him through the material and you freeze, he wasn’t kidding.

“You do it on purpose, huh? Trying to rile me up. Well, I might as well return the favor.” He breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss right below it before smashing his lips against yours. It’s heated and messy but it’s everything you need at the moment. He tastes sweet and exactly how you’d imagined. He removes his lips from yours, panting, and sits up, releasing your wrists from his hold. You inhale sharply as your eyes focus on the man before you. The sight of him now is beyond anything you’d ever been able to conjure up in your mind, it’s miles more beautiful.

“You look so pretty like this.” He coos softly, bringing a hand to caress your cheek before lowering to your throat, then your left breast, the your lower tummy before stopping right above the hem of your shorts. You wiggle your hips a little to tempt him but he doesn’t give in, only dips his finger below the material of your shirt. He pushes it up and over your breast, which he’s delighted to find are completely bare.

“No bra? It’s almost like you planned this.” He teases, the smug smirk he’s wearing making it hard to not roll your eyes. He lowers himself gently, resting his arms on either side of you before taking one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping on it. Small gasps and moans are leaving your parted lips, the sensation of his tongue on your skin sending shockwaves to the tight knot in your stomach. You involuntarily buck your hip against his and he hisses, you feel his clothed cock again and your body nearly hums in excitement.

“Knock it off.” He mumbles before trailing his lips south, stopping just below the elastic of your shorts.

“Can I take these off, baby doll?” He asks, his fingers  already dancing over the hem. You nod frantically, lifting your hips to help him slide the shorts off with ease. He groans at the sight of the wet spot already present on your underwear and leans down to press a heated kiss to your swollen lips, his hand traveling dangerously low as he does. You whine as he pulls his lips from yours, silently begging him to touch the place you need him most. He obliges, dipping his fingers below the elastic of your underwear and groaning as he collects your wetness with two long fingers.

“So wet for me, angel. Wonder what’s got you so riled up?” He teases and you groan loudly in frustration, gripping his strong shoulders tightly. 

“Just shut up and fuck me, Joe Mazzello.” You huff, grabbing at the material of his T-shirt. He raises both brows before smirking and pulling off his top.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He laughs, undoing his jeans, throwing them to the side along with his boxers. Your eyes go impossibly wide, he’s big and dear god you shouldn’t have underestimated him but your glad you did. 

“Like what you see?” He teases, wriggling his eyebrows in your direction. You roll your eyes and bring him closer with the leg you have wrapped around his waist. 

“Prove that you’re not all talk.” You huff, reaching your arms above your head to try and displace the intense pressure in your gut. He laughs, pulling down your panties in one swift motion and immediately running the head of his cock through your wet folds. You lurch forward, the stimulus surprising you. 

“Jesus, fuck.” You breath, trying and failing to compose yourself. He catches your gaze, silently asking for permission which you give without hesitation. He begins to push in slowly and your breathing catches violently in your throat, the stretch in unfamiliar and nothing like you’d ever experienced. You grip his shoulders tight and he stalls for a moment, giving you a confused look.

“You alright?” 

Yeah, just give me a sec.” You breath, then nod for him to continue. He then enters you fully and you let out a choked moan, covering your mouth with your hand as to not alert the neighbors. Joe groans loudly, his eyes squeezed tight and you clench and pulse around him.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He hisses, his grip on your hips almost bruising. 

“Move, please.” You beg, shifting your hips in an attempt to get some much needed friction. He experimentally pulls out all the way then thrusts back in. You gasp loudly, all air chocked from your lungs. You can almost feel him in your lower stomach and the sensation is like no other. You feel all of him.

“Fuck, fuck. Joe, I’m close.” You whimper, pulling him closer. He presses a wet kiss to your lips and nods, his eyes hooded and lazy.

“Me too, love.” He whispers, almost breathless as he continues his brutal pace. When his cock brushes a particularly spot, it’s over. You’re vision goes white, spotted with black stars and you cry out his name loudly. Your back arches off of the couch, your breasts pressed flush against his chest. You clench violently around him and he’s so close, you can tell by how sloppy his movements are growing. He’s panting and then suddenly pulls out, spilling his cum over your stomach, groaning, your name leaving his lips like a prayer. Now, you’re both trying to level your breathing. Joe collapses onto the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your middle and snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. You’re still breathing heavy and Joe seems close to sleep, you look over to him and give him a smile which he returns. 

“You proved me wrong, Mazzello.” You breath out and he laughs, tightening his grip on your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Glad we could come to an agreement.” He laughs before yawning, settling into your warmth and subsequently falling asleep. In all the years you’ve known Joe, he has never been one to shy away from a challenge and you’re glad nothing has changed.

Last one for tonight, my dudes! Send some in and I’ll get to them eventually! -macy:)

[city-writes]

Soul Eater: Zexal! Chapter Two - Enter Astral - A Witch's Human Experiment?

When Lord Death said there was a partner out there for him, this was not what Yuma thought he meant.

For Day 18 of Zexal Month: A Weekend Free Day!

Warnings: Soul Eater AU; Human!Astral,

Characters in this chapter: Yuma Tsukumo, Lord Death, Sid Barrett, Astral, Eliphas.

[Read it here on AO3!]

As the sun began to set, Yuma was guided to Lord Death's room by Sid, only to be stopped outside the room by Lord Death himself. "Let's take a walk, kiddo!" He proclaimed to Yuma, waving both him and Sid on. "Follow me!"

Yuma nodded and began walking behind Lord Death and Sid, walking down a level of the academy... and down another level... and another level... and another level until they reached a part of the school that Yuma failed to recognize, the area not being covered on his academy tour with his fellow students. "Where are we?"

"We're heading down to the basement." Sid stated plainly, looking over his shoulder at Yuma as they walked. "Tell us now if you're claustrophobic. The hallways down there are thin and low."

Yuma shook his head at Sid's words, causing the zombie man to shrug and turn back forward. When they reached another level of the school that called for them to go down, Yuma noticed Sid was right. The cheerful demeanor of the academy began to fade away as colorful wallpaper and wide open halls were exchanged for cold, hard stone packed thickly together, and thin hallways with low ceilings. Spikes decorated the upper walls whenever candles were not present, and the makeup of the academy's basement became much more maze-like in quality.

As they walked further into the basement, Yuma swallowed harshly, not liking the feel of this area of the school. "How, uh, how often do students have to come down here?"

"Usually never," Sid replied, not turning his head back to look at Yuma this time.

"But I think this is a special case." Lord Death added on, turning a corner into a new hallway, one that had a large door at the end of it. Once they reached that door, Lord Death looked at Yuma. "There's someone I want you to meet." With that, he shifted, allowing Sid to move in front of him, and knock on the door.

"Hey, kid. It's me again. How're you feeling?" When he recieved no answer from the other side of the door, Sid sighed and looked to Lord Death. "He's just been like this, not really speaking."

"It's alright, Sid." Lord Death assured, before clearing his throat and speaking aloud. "Yoohoo, Astral? How ya doing in there?"

Yuma blinked at the name Lord Death called out. Astral? Was that who he was supposed to meet?

"I have someone here to see you." Lord Death continued, knocking on the door himself. "Hello?" When he was met with no response, Lord Death nodded to Sid. "Open the door."

Sid nodded in return and spoke aloud, "We're coming in, kid."

As the door opened, Yuma peered inside, surprised to see a small room, complete with a desk, a bed, a dresser, and a mirror. He was also met with a dark-skinned male who appeared to be a little bit older than him, sitting in a chair at the desk, but facing the door. He was adorned with freckles on his face and arms, and had snow white hair that almost seemed to glow, as well as heterochromatic eyes: one gold and one silver. Dangling from his ears were long, silverite earrings, the length of which reached the tip of his shoulders.

"Astral?" Lord Death asked, peering in the door. "Howzit goin'? You need anything?"

Astral looked away from the door for a moment, before exhaling and finally speaking. "I'd like some food."

"Of course! Sid?" Lord Death looked down at Sid then, "Would you mind going and getting our young friend something to eat?"

"Of course, sir!" Sid replied, quickly moving past Yuma and out of sight. It was only then that Astral seemed to notice Yuma, and perked up somewhat.

"Who's that?"

"Well," Lord Death began, "I said I had someone here to see you!" He looked at Yuma then, who stared back up at his headmaster unsurely, "This is Yuma. I think the two of you might get along well together."

Yuma stepped into the room of his own volition, smiling as he did so. "Hey! I'm Yuma!" He held out a hand to shake, which Astral just stared at. Yuma laughed awkwardly, looking back at Lord Death for some assistance.

"Now Astral, be nice." Lord Death chided, shaking his head.

With a sigh, Astral spoke, moving his hand to shake Yuma's. "Hello, Yuma. I'm Astral." As their hands touched however, the two males both recoiled, pulling their hands back in surprise.

"Woah..." Yuma said in awe, looking at his hand before looking up at Astral. "You felt that too, right?"

Astral was silent, looking over the front and back of his hand before looking to Yuma with a nod. "Yes... It was like your soul wavelength charged my own." Astral frowned before looking at Lord Death, who hadn't moved from his spot outside the door. "What's the meaning of this?"

Lord Death was silent however, his gaze focused on Yuma as the young teen went perusing around Astral's desk.

"You've got alotta books." Yuma commented, causing Astral to turn his head to look at Yuma. "And a whole bunch of papers too, what, are you writing an essay for the school or somethin'?"

As Yuma looked over the papers however, he noticed something strange. All the writings on the papers were in strange, block-ish symbols, like Astral had been writing in code or something. But what was stranger still was that Yuma found himself being able to actually read the symbols. "'Fire... Water... Darkness...' Why're you writing all weird?"

Both Astral and Lord Death seemed to be surprised by this, Astral speaking up. "You can read that?"

"Somehow, yeah." Yuma looked to Astral, tilting his head somewhat. "Can't you? I mean, you're the one writing this."

"No, I can, it's just..." Astral frowned, standing up and looking over his papers. "How can you read that?"

"I dunno." Yuma admitted, "I just can."

Astral looked hesitant, before looking to Lord Death. "Who is he?" He asked, pointing at Yuma. "Why did you bring him here?"

"Well, Yuma is a new student at the Academy." Lord Death answered, a cheerful tone to his voice. "And as for why I brought him here, well, you needed a Meister, and he needed a Weapon."

Both Astral and Yuma looked surprised at Lord Death's words, Yuma being the first one to speak up. "This is the partner you were tellin' me about?" Yuma looked at Astral then, a bright smile on his face. "What kind of weapon can you turn into?"

At that, Astral flinched, and frowned deeply. "You brought him here, but haven't told him anything?" Astral asked Lord Death, causing Yuma to give a confused hum. Told him what?

"Now, now kiddo, don't get all riled up." Lord Death put up a hand, shaking it somewhat as he spoke. "Listen, I saw Yuma's soul, and I've been in the business long enough to tell when two souls can match well together. Just show him what you got."

Astral looked hesitant, and after a few moments of inaction, he exhaled and shifted into his weapon form, falling to the ground. Yuma blinked as he stared at Astral's weapon form.

"You're... a book?"

And a book indeed he was, thick in both pages and cover, his cover a dark blue adorned with markings on the sides that matched the earrings Astral had been wearing. But on the center of his front and back cover, was an emblem which looked like a warped, purple Fleur-de-lis, with a pink gem at its center.

Leaning down to pick Astral up with surprising ease despite his heavy looking size, Yuma felt a shockwave of soul waves run through his system, like adrenaline coursing through his veins. He opened the book to some blank pages, and frowned at the lack of text, flipping through the pages until he reached some that had text written in them.

Or rather, had symbols written in them. Yuma was met with the same symbols that Astral had been writing on his papers. He read aloud the first word he saw.

"...Light?"

No sooner than the word left his mouth, a shining light emerged from Astral's pages, illuminating the dimly lit room with a bright, warm glow; Yuma nearly dropped Astral in surprise as a result. "What?" Yuma leaned back slightly from the intensity of the light, looking at Lord Death for assistance. Lord Death was uncharacteristically silent, though if his posture alone was anything to go by, he was more than interested in what was going on - he was leaned in, his upper half through the door frame, as opposed to being fully outside the door as he had been.

Unsure of what to do, Yuma strained to try and see any other words through the light, but saw only one taking precedence over all the others: "Release!" At that, the light immediately began to wane back into Astral's pages, until all that was left was a faint glow that simmered down into nothing. The moment the light was fully gone, Astral shifted out of his weapon form, standing next to Yuma. Yuma looked over Astral once, and asked, "Your weapon form is a spellbook? I've never heard of anything like that."

"That's because there shouldn't be anything like that." Astral said tersely, before turning back to his desk and sitting down, scooting his chair in.

"Hey," Yuma asked, gently putting a hand on Astral's shoulder, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Astral replied, despite not looking Yuma in the eye as he spoke, "Just leave me alone."

"C'mon, we're partners now," Yuma gave Astral's shoulder a friendly squeeze, "we should--"

"We are not partners." Yuma was met with Astral's annoyed gaze at that, a frown etched across his lips. "I don't need a partner, and I don't want a partner. I just want--" He cut himself off and scoffed, again looking away from Yuma. "Just leave me alone."

"But--"

"Come now, Yuma," Lord Death suddenly chimed in, his voice gentle. "Let's give Astral a bit of alone time, why don't we?"

Yuma looked between Astral and Lord Death, before sighing and nodding, walking towards the door. Before he left though, he looked over his shoulder at Astral, who was focused on scribbling something down. "It was cool meeting you." He said insistently, wanting to prompt some sort of response from Astral, but to no avail. Exhaling, Yuma walked through the door, Lord Death closing it behind him.

"Let's head back to the Death Room, Yuma." Lord Death said softly, beginning to move down the hallway. "Sid will join us after getting Astral something to eat."

"Why is Astral in that room?" Yuma asked, it now dawning on him that a student of the school was being harbored in the basement of the academy.

"I'll explain everything when we're upstairs." Lord Death left it at that, and remained silent all the way until his Death Room.

-----------------------------

Upon reaching the Lord Death's room again, Yuma felt the urge to bombard his headmaster with many, many questions over what had just transpired, but he refrained, staying silent until the two of them entered and reached the center of Lord Death's room, Lord Death standing in front of his tall, body length mirror. "Now," he began, clapping his hands together, "I know you must have questions! So ask away, and I'll do my best to answer them for you!"

Yuma's face scrunched as he thought through his mental bank of questions, before deciding to go with a somewhat obvious one. "Why are you keeping a student of the school in the basement?"

"Astral isn't a student of the school, exactly." Lord Death began, raising a single finger in a very 'matter-of-fact' way. "He's here because he's under our protection."

"Protection?" Yuma asked, frowning. "Protection from what?"

Lord Death was silent, before turning his back to Yuma, opting instead to look at the mirror in the center of his room. "You have a history with witches, young man. Maybe not directly first hand, but your family has fought them for a long time, haven't they? Even before your mother and father, their parents before them were each students at this academy at some point. Your grandmother Haru was an exceptionally bright young Meister in the classroom, for example."

Yuma nodded in response, not knowing much about his mother's side of the family, but knowing that his father's side had been active in the business of hunting witches for generations.

"Even knowing this about your family," Lord Desth continued, not looking away from his mirror, "I'd be remiss to ask you, what are your personal feelings on witches?"

Silence filled the room as Yuma tensed at his question, his gaze immediately falling to the ground. The silence hung in the air for a few seconds, before Yuma finally spoke.

"You'd think because my parents vanished fighting witches that I'd hate them all," He murmured, digging the toe of his shoe at the ground beneath him. "That because of my family, I'd hate them. But I can't help but compare them to regular people."

"Oh?" Lord Death's tone rose at that, but he remained still in front of his mirror, not turning to look at Yuma.

"Yeah," Yuma continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Its something I can't talk to my sister or grandma about, but... there are bad people in the world. Horrible people, even. But not every person is bad." He looked up towards Lord Death then, a look of thoughtfulness on his face. "Can't the same be applied towards witches?"

"You think there are good witches out there?"

"There's gotta be." Yuma insisted, his gaze fixed on Lord Death. "People don't start off bad. I don't think witches do either."

Lord Death chuckled softly, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Yuma. "That's not a sentiment you'll find many people share, Yuma."

"I know," Yuma admitted, "but it's what I believe."

"And do you believe the same when it comes to wizards?" Lord Death asked, turning to face Yuma.

"Wizards?" Yuma gave Lord Death a skeptical look. "I thought wizards were a myth; but, if they were real then yeah."

"Wizards are real, Yuma.They might not be nearly as common as witches, but they are out there." Lord Death looked back at his mirror then, and was quiet for a moment.

The silence hung between them awkwardly, but despite that, Lord Death kept his gaze on the mirror, looking at Yuma only knew what. Yuma looked towards Lord Death expectantly, knowing there was something that was left unsaid, but unsure as to what it was. "Um--"

"What I am about to tell you," Lord Death began, his tone becoming serious, "is not to be repeated to anyone outside this room."

Yuma swallowed at the sudden change in tone, but nodded nonetheless, knowing that whatever Lord Death was about to tell him was important. Again, there was silence between the two for a few moments, until Lord Death finally spoke.

"Our young friend Astral is the child of a wizard."

Yuma blinked at Lord Death's words, a look of confusion on his face. "He's what?"

Lord Death nodded, and continued. "He's the son of a wizard named Eliphas. Eliphas was a close ally of mine, helping me by giving me inside information of going-ons in the world of the witches. In return, I'd promised him protection for his boy no matter what."

Yuma frowned slightly at the past tense Lord Death was using. "Is he...?"

"Dead?" Lord Death shook his head slowly, turning it over his shoulder and looking towards Yuma. "We don't know. All we know is that he and Astral were abducted by someone with magic - presumably a witch - and were held against their will for some time."

At that, Lord Death stepped aside from his mirror, and Yuma watched as the glass began to warp until it showed Astral in his room, sitting at the desk, scribbling away at paper. "Astral was experimented on during that time by their captor, and as a result, can now transform into that spellbook that you saw. Astral was not a weapon by birth; his newfound power was forced upon him, a power he can't control on his own. Those symbols he writes - they're not Witch Text. They're something new, something Eliphas was researching before being abducted."

Yuma walked up to the mirror as Lord Death spoke, placing a hand on it as he watched Astral scrawl away at the paper. "How did he escape?"

"Astral told us that his father managed to fight back against their captor one day, and in the ensuing chaos, Astral fled." Lord Death too began watching Astral, a faint sadness to his tone as he continued speaking. "He claimed that in his escape, a figure shrouded in dark mist began to chase after him, and that as he was being chased, he thought of his father's words; That if anything ever happened to him, to head here. Apparently, he protected himself using the raw energy of his newfound power, and teleported himself here. He appeared in an unconcious heap in the school's courtyard at night, and he's been here ever since. That was a little over a week ago."

With a sigh, Lord Death began to pace slowly, his gaze not leaving the mirror. "Since then, Astral's holed himself away, trying to make sense of his newfound power, and of the symbols that he can't seem to get out of his head."

Yuma frowned as he thought, a confused look coming over him. "Symbols that... I can read?"

"Yes, so it seems." Lord Death stopped his pacing then, looking at Yuma, who was still facing the mirror. "How that is, remains to be seen."

Yuma turned away from watching Astral then, looking over his shoulder at Lord Death unsurely. "I don't know." He answered honestly. "I just...can."

"Perhaps this has something to do with your ability to sync wavelengths." Lord Death suggested, his gaze not leaving Yuma. "Perhaps you two were destined for each other."

Yuma turned his head back to the mirror, watching as Astral crumpled a piece of paper and threw it to the ground, opting instead to open a book and read its contents. "I don't know about that, Lord Death sir, he didn't seem to want anything to do with me."

"Give it time." Lord Death soothed, stepping forward and putting a hand on Yuma's shoulder. "Young Astral is still angry at the world for putting him in this situation, and scared for both his father and himself." Lord Death gazed upon the image in the mirror as well, watching now as Astral ran his fingers through his hair, shoving the book to the side and holding his face in his hands. "He seeks answers he won't find here."

"Answers about the symbols?" Yuma asked, looking up at Lord Death.

"Yes, but also about magic in general." Lord Death continued, taking his hand off of Yuma and stepping back. "About Witch Text and its ties to these symbols. About why what happened, happened to him and his father. About what to do next."

Yuma watched as Lord Death began to pace again, turning his back to the mirror, allowing the image of Astral to fizzle away. "About what to do next?" He echoed questioningly. "You mean, he has a plan?"

"Quite the opposite; he has no plan." Lord Death chuckled somewhat, shaking his head. "The day he woke up after arriving here, after telling me what happened, he attempted to leave, wanting to retrieve his father immediately. He had no clue where to start, other than trying to activate the teleportation power that had saved him in a moment of distress. After hours of him meditating and focusing on where he and his father had been held captive and not being able to use his power, he attempted to leave Death City."

"So you stopped him."

"I did. I can't guarantee his safety if he leaves Death City by himself." Lord Death stopped pacing again, looking back at Yuma.

"And that's why he's in the basement?" Yuma asked, a slight look of horror coming to him.

"No, not at all." Lord Death said, raising his hands reassuringly. "He's down there mainly because there's no other place in the DWMA for him to stay. Does him being there allow me to keep an eye on him? Yes. But is he free to leave his room and explore Death City as he pleases? Yes." Lord Death lowered his hands then, a sigh escaping him. "I think he's just unsure of how to deal with other people. I can't imagine that as the son of a wizard that his friend pool is very big."

"Oh." Yuma looked back to the mirror then, frowning as Astral was no longer visible. "... What about if he became a student of the school? He could get an apartment in Death City then, and not have to live in the basement!"

Lord Death's expression softened at that, and a laugh left him. "Let me guess, he'll enroll as a Weapon, with you as his Meister?"

"Uh-huh!" Yuma turned his head to Lord Death and smiled brightly, nodding as he did so. "If we partner up, we can work together to control his power, and who knows, we might be able to rescue his father!"

"My boy, you are a delight!" Lord Death exclaimed. "To think, your family has hunted witches for generations, and now you're saying you want to save a wizard?"

Yuma nodded again. "Its like I said earlier, ain't it? Not all people are bad, so not all witches and wizards are too? If Eliphas was helping you help protect everyone from witches, he can't be bad!"

Lord Death laughed once more. "Young man, if you can convince him, I'd happily let Astral be a part of this academy."

At that, Yuma smiled brightly, nodding once before beginning to turn to leave Lord Death's room. "I'll stop by and talk to him in the morning! By this time tomorrow, we'll be partners for sure, I know it!" With that, Yuma bade Lord Death goodbye, and exited the Death Room.

Lord Death exhaled heavily, turning back to his mirror and pulling Astral back up on it, watching the young man leave the desk and climb into bed. "I sure hope so, Yuma." He murmured, despite said young man already having left the room. "I sure hope so."