#this map feels much more casual and like people could actually live here ya know

[screebyy]

spent a whole iron banner match taking reference screenies of dreaming city architecture btw pls enjoy

[ducknotinarow]

[SF Rasey]

It took a lot of pestering, but Casey eventually got Raphael both onto a boat, and actually out to sea. Sure, they weren't that far away from land, it was always in view, but Casey was still happy they were out there on the calm waves, and beneath the clear sky. It was peaceful out there. Casey hummed, lifting his arm, casually holding his hand out at arms length, as if he was high fiving the sky. It got him a weird enough look from Raph, as he glanced their way,

"Relax, I'm navigatin'," Casey said, casually, "A few guys I met back when I was first ever kicked out taught me how ta do it, yanno, help me get aroun' the city without a map an' stuff," He smiled at them, warmly, "Want me to show ya how?"

Casey was both surprised, but happy, when Raph agreed to it. It was a weird thing to know, Casey was more than aware, but, well, he rarely got to show people things. He knew he wasn't a bright guy, but, it didn't mean he didn't know nothing at all.

Casey explained how to hold his hand, where to position it. How the stars rested against their fingers and what the positions meant depending on where they sat. Currently, they were facing East. He showed them how to position his knuckles and fingers to measure distant. He, essentially, showed Raphael everything that he knew.

After a moment, Casey turned to the Turtle, and held his hand up. He had his fingers out in that familiar 'L' shape, but he kept turning it, angling it, until he seemed happy,

"An' when I hold my hand like this, facing ya? It means I'm facin' my home..."

| Muse interaction

Raphael loved where he lived, New York was his town. From the bustling city noise the hustle of the city known to never sleep. It was always just so alive. The bright city lights from the tower buildings that made up the skyline, to flashing shop signs that littered every turn. The exhaust from the cars hug in the smog filled air just adding to the coverage it had on the stars. Only a few bright enough to break past it why the sky always seemed just so empty to the turtle despite all of Don's ramblings about what was up in that black void. It was just to hard for him to image he guessed. The city he understood he could hear all the noise that went on in it after all. And yet? it wasn't his favorite place for a number of reasons. No that was the docks. Raph could go on and on talk about the smell of the ocean the sound of the waves even or how the sand felt when he would walk beneath the docks sometimes. But it really only boiled down to one truth of why he liked the docks so much. Why he grew excited anytime whatever mess him and his brothers found themselves to get tangled up in.

He didn't have to hide there.

It was left empty at night unlike the city where there was still a risk of being seen. The only other place he could roam freely above ground and not trapped under the city. He could hear the sound of rain for real and not the hollow echos from inside the tunnels. The air was a bit fresher coming off the ocean as well and the sky? well it lit up even more since it wasn't as hazed over by city smog or drowned out by all those bright lights. So, it might be a bit funny that for all his like and excitement when it came to going to the docks? Raphael didn't share the same enthusiasm for boats.If anything he dreaded go on to them in the first place. He didn't have his 'sea legs' so to speak. The constant shifting under him had a bit of an unwanted reaction from his body. His gut always twisted and he could feel something in his throat working the pizza he last ate up from his stomachs to his mouth. The amount of times he toughed it out and swallowed it and the bile back just so not to lose. He couldn't count on his hands anymore.

And yet here he was out on the ocean waves, feeling how the ship rocked left and right with each wave they passed over. Raphael's fingers curled over the rail in a death grip causing his knuckles to turn white as he could feel his beer and pizza ready to join the ocean. It was like he was fighting the ocean right now and he refused to back down no matter how his body dry heaved wishing to expelled his last meal out of his system. Stupid ocean wouldn't get the last laugh on him. Raphael thought as he manged to to keep of puking look out towards the shoreline. How in hell Casey finally convinced Raph to see if the abandon boat they had short of made into theirs, could truly handle the waters. Raph wasn't sure. Outside a simple fact that all it took was Casey's stupid eyes lighting up in a way Raph hadn't seen before. It generally made Casey happy to want to do this, with Raph. Because telling Casey to go alone always dimmed it.

Looking over his shoulder to where Casey was stood, he did seem pretty happy to finally be doing this. Least the waves were clam even with the bit of rocking from the boat, the slight breeze was blowing back Casey hair, just enough to let the dark locks lift and rise into the air. Small droplets of water were sticking to Casey skin. A flash of Raph burying his face into Casey neck to smell the lingering scent of the ocean crossed the turtles mind for a few seconds. As Casey's attention seemed trained on to the stars above them. It was an interesting sight though, lowering his eyes back down for a moment it was like they were sailing through space. The sea was like the surface of a dark mirror, marred only by their trailing wake. As Raph could see the stars in the ocean. He knew they weren't in the water as ripples would distort them.

It was pretty.

That's when Raph noticed Casey lifting up his arm holding out his hand towards the sky? The turtle titled his head to the side finally moving from the safety of the rail as he moved on shaky legs to stand beside Casey. Heavy hand landed to rest on Casey's shoulder to try and shift his weight and use Casey's to help stable himself. Slightly annoyed that Casey wasn't having the same issues he was. The touch seemed to draw the bone heads attention as they looked Raph's way now.

"Relax, I'm navigatin',"

"Navigatin'?" Raphael asked not because he didn't know what that meant but more because he didn't know Casey knew what that meant. Much less that Casey even knew how todo so.

"A few guys I met back when I was first ever kicked out taught me how ta do it, yanno, help me get aroun' the city without a map an' stuff,"

Raphael hated the reasoning Casey knew how to do it not that Casey seemed to be bothered by why he had learned it. That was just how Casey was though he didn't dwell and hang on to shit the way Raphael did. Casey could laugh things off, with it being known now how Casey home life was like? Guess this was just another thing added in to what Casey could laugh over because it wasn't something to worry about anymore. Casey dad best hope Raph never catches him outside a jail cell however. Well he wondered if the cops would arrest him Casey turned to look at Raph happy as ever a warm to their grin as they spoke.

"Want me to show ya how?"

"uh..yeah." Raph states not fully sure himself why he agreed. Maybe he just liked seeing Casey being happy. After everything with his Dad finally came to light? and better was dealt with? This was the happiest Casey had seemed. In a long time. It's hard to not go along with anything Casey asks of Raph but even more when Casey is like this. How those storm cloud eyes seem to blow back the clouds and give way to the warmer center. Casey was just more carefree lately and despite his earlier thought? He wanted to indulge Casey. Raphael wasn't there for Casey before, he let Casey talk him out of going to his house. Casey had to deal with the final blow of it all alone. And was away for weeks to help his mom. So if he could share in this stupid boat trip?

Seemed like the least Raphael could offer to Casey.

As Casey for once sounded like he knew what he was talking about showing Raph how to use the stars like one would a map. How they where up in the sky in certain potions made it like a compass almost. Casey held up his hand once more and Raph mimicked what Casey did. Hand held up towards the sky slightly learning over to make sure he was doing it the same way as Casey was. As Casey went on to explain how this worked to map out your direction. It wasn't often Casey was the one relaying information and doing the teaching. Raphael only ever really had his father be his teacher. On so many things in his life. But Casey? He had to admit was pretty easy to follow. Raphael was entranced with what he was hearing come out of Casey's mouth.

Raphael never knew anything like that could come from Casey. he was not much of a thinker after all Casey just ran off instinct Raphael always thought at least. It was like seeing a new side to Casey a new person almost. As much has Raph felt he hadn't been there enough for Casey he also knew if he had things would have likely been worse. Raph showing up and the cops at Casey place? Still though. Raphael drowned a lot of that out as he looked down to the back of his hand trying to understand the whole using his knuckles to measure distance. Ready to ask Casey if that would work considering his had wasn't built the same as a humans were. Only to find Casey holding his out towards Raphael. Raphael narrowed his eyes as he slight scowled at his boyfriend expecting something stupid to come out from their mouth. Noting the 'L' shape they were making slight made the turtle want to growl expecting Casey to turn this into a chance to say something like 'he found his way to a loser' or whatever.

"What's 'hat meant to mean?" a faint warning in his words as he eyed Casey ready to tackle the bone head to the deck.

"An' when I hold my hand like this, facing ya? It means I'm facin' my home..."

Raphael stood stunned for a moment at the comment he did take a second to glance back over his shoulder. Confused because the shore was not behind him? Out there was just open waters before it seemed to finally click. Raphael was home. The turtle felt warmth spread across his face at that realization. Raphael was home to Casey? Raphael turned away unable to keep meeting his boyfriends gaze after that idiot said that with such a straight expression even! Even if it did send a flutter in his shell to think about. He might not have been there to save Casey, but Casey didn't need to be saved. Casey did go to Raph after though and didn't leave his side as they hog the couch for hours.

"Idiot.." he says it softly no fire behind the word but he dose lift his hand in the same way Casey had. No way he had the balls to say it out loud not yet. But he could least show that he felt the same. Casey was home, and he finally felt at home again with Casey back around. "..we can stay out a bit longer if you want."

[mypoisonedvine]

ok but what if the whole week y/n’s mom has been hovering over them and tagging along to their car rides. not because she suspects something but she’s just in a good mood and “want to spend time with my family” all the while she’s cockblocking them. reader finally snaps and goes to the bathroom where lee is showering or the garage where he’s working on the car and is like “i need you to fuck me” which he absolutely does, but the fact that this time around the mom can walk in at any moment not only makes them be extra careful, but it also makes it that much hotter

The three Bodeckers all had vastly different ideas on the meaning of ‘family bonding time.’

To you, it meant casual activities surrounding shared interests, like an afternoon spent fishing or a morning preparing breakfast together.  To your mother, it meant long road trips and weekend vacations and dinners without TV, radio, or newspapers to distract from each other; constant togetherness, with barely enough privacy to breathe.  To your stepfather, it meant coming up with some excuse to be alone with you so he could rail you like it was the end of the world.

A week of your mother’s idea of ‘family bonding’ had you warming up to Lee’s interpretation.

See, you’d gotten a bit spoiled by Lee’s sexual appetite, rarely ever having to get yourself off to relieve tension since he was always just around the corner and more than willing to relentlessly pleasure you.  But since Monday you’d been stuck in either the back of the patrol car or the twin bed in a motel room, which meant no time or place for either.  Not only that, but the backseat of the patrol car only brought back memories that made it harder than ever to keep your hands to yourself (or rather, off of yourself); sleeping in a small room with him just a few feet away was so tempting, despite the impossibility of anything happening with your mother sleeping beside him.  Still, you couldn’t help but fantasize about just crawling into bed and riding that thick cock, his hands grabbing your waist and pulling you down, his stubble scratching your face as he whispered all kinds of filthy praise in your ear...

“Hello?  Are you listening to me?” your mother whined, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Huh?” you mumbled, sitting up from where you had been resting your head on the inside of the window.

“I said we’re about to get to our hotel for the night,” she repeated, “and tomorrow we’re going on a hike.”

“Mama, I don’t wanna hike tomorrow,” you groaned.  “I thought this vacation was supposed to be about relaxing, not exercising.”

“Walking is good for your figure,” she defended.

“We didn’t need to drive all the way out here to walk!” you announced, gesturing out as if to evoke the general environment that you were currently riding through.  “There’s plenty of walking to do at home!”

“But now we’re immersed in nature!” 

“Nature...?” you repeated, furrowing your brow in confusion.  “Mama, are you under the impression that Knockemstiff is some kind of urban environment?  We live in the fucking woods!”

Lee laughed, but stopped when his wife shot him a glare.

“I don’t like that tone or that language,” she frowned.  “I hope your attitude has improved by the morning or you might miss out on all the fun I have planned.”

You rolled your eyes but she seemed to relent, and you kicked your legs up onto the seats beside you to rest your eyes for the rest of the drive.  You were jostled from your nap some time later when the car stopped; opening your eyes, you sat up and looked out the window and the hotel in front of you.  It was actually sort of cute, in a dilapidated sort of way, but you’d seen worse so far on this nightmare of a family vacation.

Lee unloaded everyone’s bags (and by everyone’s bags, I mean your one bag, Lee’s one bag, and your mother’s six bags) while you and your mother went to the front desk to get the key.  You would’ve killed even just for those few moments alone with him, but she had a sixth sense for keeping you two apart lately; it didn’t feel so much like she wanted you away from him, though, and more like she was trying to get to know you better herself.  You weren’t sure what was motivating this sudden desire for a fun mother-daughter relationship after a lifetime of her treating you mostly like a nuisance, but the gestures of friendship were wholly unwelcome.

“Did you get all the bags, honey?” she asked Lee as she stepped back him to start unlocking the door.  He just looked exhausted as you began to giggle at the absurdity of her asking him that when he was standing among a comically-large pile of suitcases and travel bags.

“Dear god let’s hope so,” Lee grumbled, but she didn’t seem to notice as she became preoccupied with the room in front of her once the door had swung open.

“Oh, this won’t do!” she frowned.  

“It’s got a bed, doesn’t it?” Lee rolled his eyes.  “And a shower, right?  I need a shower.”

“We paid for a lakeview room, but all I can see out this window is trees!  We’re changing rooms,” she announced.

“No no, I can see the lake,” you protested, desperate to not have to do this process all over again.

“I can’t see it,” she maintained, leaning in closer to the window and squinting.

“No, look, Ma, it’s right there!  It’s behind the trees... you just have to look through the trees.”

“I can’t see through trees,” she shook her head.  “I’m going to get us a new room.”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t change her mind.

“Can I at least take my shower first?” Lee requested.

“Sure, you shower while I go sort this out.  Darling,” she turned her attention to you, “would you look on this map and pick out a hiking trail for us to go on tomorrow?”

Your eyes widened a bit at that.  “You mean I’m staying here?”

“Unless you would rather come with me to the front desk—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, “no, I’ll stay here and pick a trail.”

She waved as she stepped out, shutting the door behind her.  You were on Lee like white on rice, throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him aggressively.

“How long do you think she’s gonna be gone?” he mumbled against your lips as his hands roamed over your back and grabbed your ass.

“Long enough for you to fuck me,” you decided.  “Let’s get in the shower.”

“You need to pick a trail—”

You glanced at the map in your hand for a moment, picking out the first one you saw before tossing it aside.  “We’re doing the Yellow Springs trail.”

“But that says it’s expert difficulty,” Lee began to protest before being distracted but your hand reaching down and rubbing his cock through his slacks.  He was already half-hard and growing quickly in your palm.  “Fuck, you’re insatiable,” he growled.  

The two of you stumbled to the bathroom and stripped with lightning speed, hopping into the shower’s stream of water before it was even hot.  It wasn’t quite big enough for two people, but you fit just fine with him pressing you against the cold tiled wall as he fucked you.  

“Daddy,” you whimpered as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “harder, please, I need to come.”

“She could be back any minute,” he reminded you with a gravelly voice.

“Then we’d better make it quick,” you smiled.  He pushed your legs up a little higher and it made his cock push even deeper into you— so deep you nearly screamed.  His hand clamped down over your mouth as he continued, only hitting deeper and harder even as tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the intensity.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?  Is this what you were thinking about all day?” 

You nodded, and he growled approvingly.  

“Me too,” he grinned, “wanted to touch ya so bad I thought I’d die.  But nothin’ can keep me away from you for very long— fuck, ‘m close.”

You were close, too, but you figured he knew that with the way your walls were tightening and rippling as pangs of intense pleasure wracked your body.  The water was hot but it was nothing compared to the heat of him inside you, especially as he came, coating your walls with his thick seed and making your eyes roll back into your head.

“Fuck,” he groaned deeply, “been waitin’ so long to do that.”

He relaxed the grip of his hand on your mouth, giving you a better chance to catch your breath.  He slowly pulled out and allowed you to lower your legs, though he didn’t let you go until you were sure you wouldn’t fall over.  You moaned softly as you felt his come leak out and run down your thighs, instantly washed away by the water.

Slipping out of the shower wordlessly, you dried off and dressed with a few minutes to spare before your mother returned.  When he emerged in a towel while you felt yourself blushing uncontrollably, she explained to both of you that she couldn’t get a new room but was able to get some of her money (also known as Lee’s money) back.

“How was your shower, honey?” she asked him once she’d finished her tangent.

“Best I’ve ever had,” he answered simply.

[deancas-fanfiction]

Hardest Part is Letting Go

Part 3/7

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Fic Summary: Upon his diagnosis of a terminal illness, Dean vows to spend the rest of his short life with Cas by his side, completing his bucket list while learning what it really means to live and love.

Chapter Summary: Dean and Cas cross another item off Dean's bucket list by embarking on a road trip for Sam's law school graduation.

Part 1 Part 2

available on ao3

“Can you believe it? Sam Winchester: attorney at law.” Dean mused.

“Or Sam Winchester, Esquire.” Cas offered.

Dean snorted and shook his head, throwing another flannel in his suitcase. “He’s a big fancy lawyer now. My baby brother is all grown up.”

“Well, he is twenty-seven. I imagine he’s been ‘all grown up’ for some time now,” Cas joked.

“Yeah, I suppose when he married Jess that ship kind of sailed, huh?”

“I suppose.” Cas agreed with a faint smile. He zipped his suitcase and sat on their bed, watching Dean throw another wrinkled shirt in his bag. “Are you really not going to fold that?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas. It’s a t-shirt. I think it will be fine.”

“What about your nice shirt for his graduation?” He eyed Dean and took in the way he avoided meeting his eyes. “Please tell me you’re packing a nice shirt for his graduation.”

“It’s a graduation ceremony, Cas! I don’t need a suit. Remember his college graduation? Most people were dressed casually.”

“And remember when Jess booked us all a reservation at that French restaurant afterward? The host made you go home and change because you didn’t meet the dress code. Besides, I’m willing to bet Jess will make another fancy reservation for celebrations after the ceremony.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll bring a nice button-down. But I’m not wearing a suit,” He warned.

Cas held his hands up in mock surrender. “I would never dream of making you wear one.”

Dean threw the nearest button-down on the top of his suitcase and began zipping it up. He only paused when he heard Cas wince.

“It’s going to wrinkle, Dean!”

Dean stepped back and scratched his jaw, letting out a sigh. “Okay, new plan: I’ll leave the room and make us some dinner. This allows you to completely repack my suitcase the way you like, and I won’t even complain about it.” 

Cas grinned, happy with the outcome. “Deal!”

Dean kissed the top of his head and left the room, mumbling something about how a few wrinkles wouldn’t hurt anyone, which Cas pointedly chose to ignore. He then dumped out the contents of Dean’s suitcase and methodically began folding and repacking the luggage.

As predicted, autumn was fleeting and quickly turned into a cold and brutal winter. It was only early December, but the wind was biting and the snow ruthless. When Dean and Cas learned that Sam was graduating from law school a semester early, they were ecstatic. Mostly because Sam was the male equivalent of Elle Woods by graduating from law school top of his class, but also because they get to trade the incessant cold of Kansas for the sunny warmth of California.

The timing of his graduation was perfect, actually. Dean’s symptoms remained stagnant for the last two months and were completely manageable with the help of his medications. If Sam hadn’t taken those extra summer classes the last two years, he would actually be graduating in May and Cas wasn’t so sure if Dean could make that cross-country trek six months from now. But he pushed that thought from his mind and returned to the task at hand.

They originally planned on flying to California for the graduation, but then Cas had a stroke of genius. Remembering item six on Dean’s list, he suggested turning it into a road trip. For as long as Cas has known him, Dean dreamed of road tripping along the historic Route 66, which begins in Chicago and ends in Los Angeles; and suddenly all of the pieces fit into place. They would join Route 66 in Oklahoma, just four hours away from Lawrence. Then they’d follow the route all the way to L.A., arriving just in time for Sam’s graduation from UCLA. After he proposed the idea, Dean was completely on board and already mapping out the best stops for pie and burgers along the way. 

Cas finished with Dean’s suitcase and quickly returned his attention back to his own bag. He double-checked he had everything packed, including a small wooden box hidden at the bottom with a certain piece of jewelry inside. Satisfied with the completion of his mental checklist, Cas zipped the bags and followed the scent of dinner to the kitchen.

-----

“Dean.” Cas groaned, his voice rough and gravelly from sleep. “Must we leave at such an obscene hour?”

Dean chuckled and shut his car door. “According to the schedule that you made, we need to drive about twelve hours today to make it on time. I’m just following your orders, babe.”

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” Cas whined, slumping in the seat.

“Here, this will help.” Dean handed him a large thermos with coffee and started the engine. The engine purred beneath him and Dean couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. It always felt so good to get behind the wheel of his baby. He put the car into gear and pulled out of their driveway, heading towards the open road.

He glanced over at Cas as he took a large gulp of coffee. His hair was sticking out in all directions, making it clear Cas didn’t even attempt to smooth it down today. He smiled at the grumpy expression on Cas’s face and turned his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

The first hour of the drive was quiet. They headed south to hop onto Route 66 in Oklahoma. While they weren’t making the official Route 66 trek by beginning in Chicago, Dean was completely fine with that. He’d spent most of his life in the Midwest, he didn’t need to backtrack just to see the flat landscape he was already familiar with. The radio was playing softly as Dean and Cas both took the time to wake up for the day. As Cas pointed out, it was still dark so there were few cars on the road. It was actually a rather peaceful start to the day. 

As soft colors began to replace the dark sky, Cas’s mood began to turn around as the caffeine entered his system. He hummed along with the radio and watched the snow-covered trees quickly pass by. The pastel pinks and oranges from the rising sun reflected off the white snow, creating a warm glow. At that thought, he turned and leaned his back against the passenger door so he was facing Dean.

“You know, at first I was disappointed with the timing of the road trip. I didn’t think the drive would be very picturesque in December. I always thought fall or summer would be the opportune time to go.” He paused, looking back out the window. “But this is actually really nice. Everything is so still and quiet.”

“Well, by the time we get farther west it will feel like summer anyway. So, we’ll get a little bit of both.”

“That’s true,” Cas mused. “We should have done a road trip like this a long time ago.”

“We were always too busy with life. You had summers off, but that’s when the shop got the busiest for me. We just never made the time to slow down and experience things like this.” Dean observed. “Not that being so busy was a bad thing. We both loved our jobs, but we always said, ‘there will be a better time’ or ‘maybe next year.’ But now…well we don’t really have that privilege, do we?”

“I suppose not,” Cas sighed sadly.

“On a positive note, I’m glad that now we’re making the time for things like this.”

“Me, too.” He murmured, attempting a smile.

“Hey,” Dean said softly. “Stop that.”

“Sorry, I don’t like thinking about how we can no longer make long-term plans.”

“Then don’t think about it.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. But right now, I’m here, okay?” Dean tore a hand away from the steering wheel and intertwined it with Cas’s. “Focus on that. When your mind starts wandering to those thoughts, shut it down and focus on the now. Because these moments right here, these are the ones I want you to look back on and I only want you to remember how happy we are. I don’t want this last year tainted with sadness. Can you do that for me?”

Cas nodded and squeezed Dean’s hand. The gesture said more than he could vocalize at the moment. Cas had never cared for anyone as much he does for Dean. He always thought that finding Dean and experiencing that all-consuming, world-shattering love with him was like some kind of reward for surviving the first shitty eighteen years of his life. But now that Cas knows their time together is limited, he can’t help but feel like the punchline to some kind of cosmic joke.

He shook his head and slowly exhaled, turning his attention on Dean’s advice to focus on the positives. Dean is next to him right now and that’s all that matters. He has his left hand draped on the steering wheel with his right intertwined with Cas’s; and despite the heavy conversation, he still has a genuine smile on his face. It’s the kind of smile that lights up his whole face, giving him a youthful glow regardless of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Cas returned his smile with a genuine one this time.

“We’re doing this all wrong, you know.” Cas states, changing the subject.

“Doing what wrong?” Dan asks quizzically.

“Your bucket list item. It said, ‘road trip with a kickass playlist.’ We’re currently road-tripping listening to a subpar radio station. Not really the same thing.”

“No,” He agreed. “I suppose it isn’t the same thing. Grab a tape out of the glove box, will ya?”

“I know you have very strict rules which state that the driver picks the music, but you’ll have to make an exception for this one instance.” Cas held up a cassette tape he dug out of his own jacket pocket which read ‘Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx.’

Dean grinned. “That is always an exception. Pop it in.”

He inserted the tape into the player and turned the volume up a little higher. The opening notes to Immigrant Song played out and Cas settled into his seat, letting the music wash over him.

“Remember when I gave this to you?” Dean baited.

“We were fighting,” Cas laughed.

“Over something stupid.”

“Big surprise there.”

“God, I don’t even remember what the fight was about anymore.”

“I do. You –” Cas caught himself off. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“Good save, Cas.”

Cas smirked. “You hadn’t talked to me all day. I was reading in the living room and you stomped in, dropped it on my lap and just walked away.”

“This was early in our relationship. I was bad at communicating! This was the best way I could tell you I was an idiot and that I was sorry.”

“Well, it obviously worked. I went for a drive and listened to it. I forgave you by the time this first song was over.”

“It’s only a two-minute song, Cas.”

“Exactly my point. I never have much resolve when it comes to staying mad at you, do I?”

“I suppose not,” Dean acknowledged. “Besides, that was a pretty romantic move on my part.”

“Yes, it was. If I hadn’t already been so in love with you at that point, I’m sure the mixtape would have sealed that deal.”

“So, what you’re saying is I should have made you a mixtape right after I met you?”

“I’m pretty sure from the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special, Dean.”

Dean flushed at that statement and he felt the tips of his ears turn pink. At this point in their relationship, he’d grown accustomed to how forward Cas can be, but it still has quite an impact on him. “Yeah, I thought the same about you,” He murmured.

Cas beamed at him, showing the whites of his teeth and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. At that exact moment, the song ended and switched into Good Times Bad Times. Dean cranked it up and sang loudly along with Cas.

I know what it means to be alone

I sure do wish I was at home

I don't care what the neighbors say

I'm gonna love you each and every day

You can feel the beat within my heart

Realize, sweet babe, we ain't ever gonna part

Yeah, this moment here is the exact reason he put this item on his bucket list.

In no time, they were cruising on Route 66 heading west towards New Mexico, their destination for the night. When they stopped to grab gas and snacks a few miles back, Cas grabbed a handful of Route 66 brochures and had been thoughtfully studying them ever since.

“Anything good?” Dean asked, rather amused at his boyfriend’s total infatuation with the tourist gimmick.

“Did you know that Route 66 was commissioned in 1926 but wasn’t fully paved until 1938? Then in 1985, it was decertified a U.S. highway. Originally it was 2,448 miles in 1926 but now it totals 2,278 miles from beginning to end.”

Dean hummed in response, not daring to interrupt Cas. He learned it’s best to let Cas get it out of his system.

“You know, there’s a place called ‘Cadillac Ranch’ in Texas. We could stop there! We’re pretty close.” He chirped, bringing Dean’s attention back to the conversation.

“A Cadillac ranch?” Dean grimaced. “What is that?”

“It’s a public art sculpture of ten Cadillac’s buried nose-first in the ground.” Cas paused for a moment. “Actually, that doesn’t sound very appealing at all.”

Dean chuckled. “Thank God. I was wondering how I was going to talk you out of it.”

“Are there any stops along the way you want to make?”

“Cas, I’m in this for the driving and for the company. I don’t need to stop at niche tourist stops unless it’s something you really want to do.”

“I just want to make sure you get the full road trip experience!”

“To me, the full road trip experience is exactly what we got going: good music, good conversation, and my car. I don’t need anything else; I promise.”

“If you say so,” Cas’s lips turned up at the corner, in a smile that Dean recognized as pure contentment.

The rest of their drive sped by as they joked, sang along to the music, and reminisced as songs played that reminded them of different points in their lives. Soon enough, they were pulling into Santa Rosa, New Mexico where they decided to call it for a night. They found a mediocre chain hotel with vacancy and pulled off the road. At that point they had been in the car for a little over twelve hours and were in desperate need of some space to stretch out. Driving long distances used to be much easier. Now Dean’s joints popped as he stepped out of the Impala and his legs felt uncomfortably stiff.

Dean checked them in as Cas went to grab dinner. The original plan was to grab food and drinks to celebrate a successful first day, but Dean could feel the exhaustion weighing him down. So, Cas volunteered to pick up takeout instead. After throwing his and Cas’s bags down on the floor, Dean collapsed on the bed. Instantly he longed for his memory foam as the springs of the cheap mattress poked against his back. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure it would be a big enough problem to keep him awake as he was so damn tired.

As he was beginning to nod off, he heard the door to the room click open and was met with the intoxicating smell of greasy takeout.  

“Honey, I’m home!” Cas greeted cheerfully. “And I brought pie.”

Dean shot up from his spot on the bed and kissed Cas in thanks. “God, I love you.”

“Are you talking to me or the food?”

“Why not both?” He asked, his mouth already full of fries.

“Touché.” Cas laughed and began digging in as well. He joined Dean on the bed, with their knees touching as he flipped on the television and found a movie for them to watch. They ate in a peaceful quiet, both engrossed in the movie.

Once the food was gone and the slices of pie were eaten, they both began tiredly stripping down to their boxers.

Dean watched with a different form of hunger in his eyes as Cas undressed.

“I can feel you watching me.” He chided, bending over to put his discarded clothes back in his bag.

“Of course, I am. I have a sexy boyfriend who is undressing right in front of me,” He murmured, wrapping his arms around Cas. Cas leaned back into the touch, letting out a soft sigh. Dean began peppering kisses along Cas’s jaw, pausing only to suck on the sensitive spot below his ear. Cas let out a quiet whimper at that and closed his eyes. Dean continued kissing down his neck to his shoulders when he paused to fight a yawn breaking to the surface.  

Cas laughed and the tension immediately lifted. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

“I don’t wanna,” Dean grumbled. Yet he allowed himself to be pulled to bed anyway.

“You can have your way with me tomorrow, I promise. But for now, sleep.”

Dean hummed and pulled Cas’s arm around his waist, so they were spooning. All previous annoyances about the crappy mattress were pushed from his head and quickly replaced with thoughts of Cas as he felt a soft kiss press to the back of his neck. With that, he allowed himself to lose consciousness and fall into a deep, happy sleep.

Author’s Note: Surprise, I decided to post the chapter two days early! Originally I planned on the whole road trip and Sam's graduation taking place in one chapter but it's turning out to be much longer than I anticipated. So I'll be breaking it up over the next chapter or two.

I also decided to change Sam's law school from Stanford to UCLA for the purpose of the road trip because Stanford would have been another 5 hours from L.A. and this just made it less complicated. Next chapter you can expect some smut, more road-tripping shenanigans and Sam! Please let me know what you think so far!

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Almost There

Pairing: Tony Stark x C.I.A platonic!reader (Gender neutral)

Request: The reader is a real life federal agent, and is task to go into the mcu to bring tech out. The reader is given a teleporter, fake ID, money, and a pistol. The plan is to steal a truck full of Stark tech and be transported back. When the reader enters the MCU they wake up in an abandoned warehouse. They spent several months gathering information, practicing and discovering what'sx different inside the MCU. One day they put the plan into action everything goes to plan until the transporter is broken at the rendezvous point. (From the real world point) The reader is then captured by stark and interrogated about them not existing. The reader in the end stays quiet but before they're arrested the battle of N.Y happens and they escape wondering what to do.

Warnings: some cursing, cocky reader, being rude to Tony Stark (sorry to Tony lovers)

Word Count: 1663

A/N: This was requested by @iawaythrown. Thank you so much for the request. I hope you like it. I also tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible. I’m sorry if I did not. This is not Beta read, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

I had a mission. It was all planned out, all I had to do was follow instructions. Of course things here never seem to pan out the way you want, and of course I was seemingly suspicious. No wonder he caught me. No wonder I’m now trapped here. 

Okay, I’m getting way ahead of myself. I’m not from this universe, reality, or whatever you want to call it. I’m from a world where this character was just that, a character! Now I’m here with no plan, no mission, no escape, and no Stark Tech.

Yes, you heard me right, I was after some Stark Tech, but here I am being interrogated by Tony Stark himself. Now, for how I got to this point, that’s easy. I’m a CIA Agent, and given the almost impossible task of gathering as much Stark Tech as I possibly could in a truck, and bringing it back to my world. Most likely to be used, or improved, to be given to the people in my time. You know, to speed up the process of technological advancement.

I never asked questions though, that wasn’t my place. All I know is that I had to come here with the transporter, gather as much Stark Tech, as discreetly as possible, and meet at the rendezvous point before anyone found out what I was doing.

Alright, enough of me summarizing what happened, and didn’t happen. Allow me to enlighten you a bit. I’ll spare you the details of the full mission brief, not very brief if you ask me, and get down to my adventures here in the MCU.

“You ready for this?” One of my coworkers asked, helping me prepare for my journey.

“I’m so excited. I have studied every single person I will be getting to know in this world. I spent hundreds of dollars, and did lots of bargaining to get every last copy of the comics for the 6 members of the Avengers. As well as all the Avengers comics.”

“You’ve worked hard for this mission. You seem more dedicated than usual.” They spoke, handing me my bag and wallet with fake ID and money.

We walked over to the transporter where everyone else was waiting. I was given one last bit of information on how to get out before I was told where to stand.

“Just a warning, you may feel a bit nauseous, or you might pass out on entry. Just find Stark and the others as soon as you can. We cannot waste any time.”

“Yes sir.” My commanding officer then starts up the transporter, and I’m sent away in a flash of white light.

When I awoke I was in a warehouse. I got up quickly, and walked outside. I had studied every map of New York City I could find. I knew how to get to Stark Tower from every possible place I could land. I started to make my way to the tower. 

My disguise was his new secretary, and I honestly thought that was a genius idea. When I got to Stark Tower, I was greeted by the doorman asking me for my identification. I gladly obliged and he allowed me inside, showing me to Tony Stark’s office.

“You are my new secretary?” He asked, laying eyes on me. He didn’t seem too impressed with me, but that didn’t matter.

“I am. If you have a problem with that, then I will see myself out. Just so you know though, you won’t find anyone better than me.”

“I see your people skills are lacking, but your persuasiveness is impressive.” He smirked, and showed me around.

I was in! This was my chance to get as close to him as possible without him realising why I was actually there. Tony started with his part of the tower. He said that it would be mostly off limits unless I truly needed him. 

The next part was my favorite. He was showing me where he came up with all his inventions, and that’s where I made my first grab. Of course he had to be something small that he would barely notice was gone, and a discarded prototype, which he showed me plenty.

This went on for about a month. I would always end up finding him in the lab, purposely of course. As he would leave, I would sneak a piece of tech. As time went on I gathered bigger and better tech and loaded them into a U-Haul truck that I rented to take back to my world. 

I only hoped that no one had caught on to what I was doing, but I didn’t think so. The day finally came, and I had to tell Tony I had to part ways with him. He seemed to really enjoy the work I was doing for him, but I guess I would just have to live with that I guess.

“Hey there is my favorite secretary.” He grinned, chuckling some

“I’m currently your only secretary.” I said, not very amused.

His grin faded, and he cleared his throat, “anyway, I want to show you something. My latest invention.”

My curiosity peaked, and I had almost forgotten what I came down to the lab for, “latest invention?”

“Yep, granted the project had been set back. For some reason I kept misplacing some of the tech needed to complete it.”

“You misplace things? That’s shocking to me.”

“I don’t usually, but for some reason more recently my mind has been clouded.”

“I wonder why?” I asked, being genuine. I may be stealing him, and making him think he’s losing it, but I’m not heartless.

Tony just chuckles, and brushes off the question. He always liked to share as long as there was a little pity to him, then he would move on. It annoyed me a little, but at the same time, I was used to it.

Tony led me to where his new invention was. He did warn it may not intrigue me, for it was more of an upgrade for his Iron Man suit. When he showed me, I was absolutely amazed. There would be no way that I could sneak this new piece of tech, but you bet I was going to try.

“Tony, I have something I have to tell you, and you probably won’t like it.”

“I knew it! All of my tech started disappearing after you showed up!” He jumped to conclusions.

“Uh, I was going to say I have to leave. My mother has fallen ill, and I am the last close family member to care for her. So, today will be my last day.” I spoke, looking confused at his accusation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. What is she sick with, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She is in severe kidney and liver failure due to her heavy alcoholism after my father left her.” I said too casually, but he did not question me.

“So, where ya headed?”

“Maine. Specifically Augusta, Maine.”

“I see. It will be hard to see you go, but I understand how important family is. Before you go, come up to the penthouse, so I can give you a proper goodbye.” With that, Tony walked upstairs leaving me alone.

I knew him leaving me in the lab alone was a test. He was obviously on to me, and as much as I wanted to steal that new piece of tech, I had to leave it be, but I now had a lot of the tech to recreate it myself.

I of course did not want to say goodbye to Tony properly. He was just a pawn in a bigger game. I knew that I wasn’t playing a better, or bigger role, but more important than him. I made my way outside, and back to the abandoned warehouse where I kept the U-Haul truck. 

I climbed in and headed to the rendezvous point. I was of course nervous about everything going wrong now that I was so close to getting back home. I made it to my point, and it was almost time to head back. Though, when it was time to head back, something went wrong. I couldn’t get the transporter to work.

That’s when I heard a car heading my way. I couldn’t help but begin to panic, and I kept hitting the transporter button. That’s when I heard the car stop a few feet behind me. The car door opened then closed, but I dare not turn around.

“This is the opposite direction of Maine, sweetheart.” Of course, this was just my luck.

“Yeah. I realise that.” I was extremely frustrated at this point.

“Open the truck.”

“Absolutely not! You do not have the authority to search my things.”

“I could get the proper authorities involved.”

I glare at him. I was not going to be threatened like this, but I could not use my authority here in this world. I technically didn’t exist. Not to mention I would blow my entire cover and mission.

“Or you could come with me, and explain what you’re doing with a truckload of my tech.”

I had no choice but to follow him. I had to remain as innocent as I could until he had enough evidence to prove I’m not.

Now you are all caught up to now. Nothing else has happened since then. Tony has since left me alone, and hasn’t returned. I think I hear something happening outside. This may be the only chance I would have to run. You bet I will be making a break for it. If I no longer update on my story, assume I made it back home, or I haven’t been captured by Stark and his posse of weirdos. 

That’s it for now. Thanks for listening to my weird story. Just make sure to burn this once you have finished. Unless you’re Tony Stark, then you can suck it. Y/n out.

[victoodles]

Not 100% sure if you do requests, but if you do could you do something (platonic or romantic) with Aziraphale where the reader is a demon and works with Crowley and acts all tough but Aziraphale finds out that she secretly LOVES baking? Sorry it's so specific but I've had the idea in my head for awhile but for some reason couldn't write it. I saw your Crowley fic and it was so well-written!

another request coming in hot!!! i have only written for my angel oc but switching it up with a demon gal was so much fun! as always, enjoy 

“Boo!” 

Aziraphale jolts back in his chair with a yelp at the unexpected intrusion, knocking over a stack of books in the process. The discordance is paired with mischievous giggling followed by a heavy sigh, courtesy of Crowley. 

“Told ya it would spook him!” You continue to titter, wrapping your arms around Crowley’s neck as you float behind him. Crowley rolls his eyes from behind his glasses and regards you from over his shoulder.

“Boo? Really? Are you a thousand years old?” You respond to his reprimands with a pout. 

“It was funny!” 

Aziraphale begs to differ as he miracles the mess back into order with a snap of his fingers. “Hello you two,” he says, exasperated already. Crowley acknowledges his friend with a nod and you a salute, now floating leisurely on your back. 

“My dear, you’re corporeal now. You can walk, you have legs.” Aziraphale explains with the same sternness of a chiding mother. 

You purse your lips again. “But that means effort. And this,” you cross your legs and elevate them in the air, “is much more fun.” 

“But if a human were to come in and see-“ Aziraphale begins but you interrupt with your own snap. The locks to his bookshop turn up with a click. 

“There, problem solved.” You say simply, holding your palm out to Crowley for a high-five. He complies. You lower your over-sized sunglasses (you vehemently brag that they’re Gucci), revealing pitch black eyes and shoot Aziraphale a wink. 

Aziraphale pinches the bridge of his nose, saying a silent prayer for his patience. “Right,” he begins before taking a seat again, pulling out a file full of various documents. “Now that the two of you have arrived-“

You eye the papers with contempt. “Wait,” you interject yet again, “are we actually here to do work?” Aziraphale looks at you incredulously. Crowley has opted to stay out of it, pouring himself a glass of red wine before plopping down on the couch. 

“Y-yes of course. Now that Armageddon has been successfully thwarted we must plan for the new future! Managing Adam’s powers, proper schooling for him, and-“ 

“Yeah yeah that all sounds grand. And very boring.” You fake a yawn and motion for Crowley to pass the wine. 

“Boring?!” 

“She’s not wrong,” Crowley adds casually, earning him a shocked gasp from the angel. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cannot believe what he is hearing. Crowley shrugs nonchalantly in response and you snicker playfully. 

“Well you two can hash it out, figure out all the details. Azi, just come over later and fill me in.” You say with a dismissive wave.

“But-“

“Toodles!” And with that you vanished, presumably returning to your own abode. Aziraphale is left dumbfounded; Crowley seems unsurprised with how the afternoon is turning out. 

“She is…” Aziraphale begins, nerves frayed.

“Something else? I know, you’ve previously mentioned.” Crowley offers Aziraphale a well needed glass of Cabernet.

~

After hours of much deliberation, meticulously crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s, Aziraphale and Crowley successfully mapped out the next ten years of Adam’s life and then some. While it would’ve gone by quicker if you were a willing participant, it seems you were not fond of working, physical or mental.

Aziraphale runs a hand through his hair (which he heavily considered tearing out due to frustration) and heads for your flat. It’s conveniently in the same complex as Crowley’s; Aziraphale has the route memorized and thoroughly enjoys the walk. 

He takes the time to reflect. The world is safe from needless slaughter - humanity can continue to thrive. And it’s all because of the friendship between demons and an angel. Yet despite all these victories, Aziraphale can’t place why you are being so lackadaisical about...well everything. 

Crowley had said you spent a majority of your time when you were in office at Circle 5 - Sloth. And even when you decided to “grace” Hell with your presence, as you often put it, you would just sunbathe next to the River Styx. In contrast to doing any of your assigned clerical duties, or anything work related at all.

Yet when Armgeddon came knocking on Earth’s door, you were there alongside them to eagerly answer the call. 

Quite strange indeed, Aziraphale muses as he approaches your door. He gives the wood three polite knocks and awaits your response. 

Nothing. 

He tries again, this time with a call of your name. And once again he is met with the same silence. 

“Oh for Heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale’s patience has already waned dangerously thin; he just wants to give you an overview of today’s happenings and get back home. While he typically tries to avoid debauchery of any kind, he is too exhausted to follow his usual principles. 

Aziraphale looks to both ends of the corridor to ensure the coast is clear before miracling your door open. Being frivolous with his powers wasn’t a concern anymore thankfully.

Your door unlatches effortlessly and Aziraphale escorts himself inside. He doesn’t think he’s ever set foot in your flat before - you weren’t prone to company. But just from the entryway he can deduce that this place definitely belongs to you.     

Red velvet drapes cover the windows with ornate patterns stitched in gold along their borders. Your carpets seem to mimic that same style: burgundy rugs covering rich mahogany floors. Adorning the walls are a variety of paintings; Aziraphale might be imagining things but he swears you have the original “Birth of Venus”. He thinks it wise to not ask how you acquired that for your collection. 

Aziraphale might have thought he wandered into a demonic opera house had it not been for the aroma of baked goods wafting in the air. Their sweetness was almost palpable and he wished to seek the origins of these confections. 

The trail led him to your kitchen, constructed entirely of marble and equipped with the finest of appliances. You had your back to him, idly whisking a bowl of batter and humming softly to yourself. 

There was none of your usual rigidness or arsenal of snarky comments being slung every which way. You were relaxed, peacefully baking (a skill Aziraphale admittedly didn’t think you capable of). Aziraphale thought you almost looked…

“Angelic…” 

He hadn’t meant to speak that sentiment aloud and you squeal in surprise. The bowl slips from your grasp, splattering its contents all over your floor; a simple wave of your hand soon rectifies the mess. You spin around, horrified to meet Aziraphale’s giddy smile. He was practically bouncing on his feet at this discovery. You pull your sunglasses back down to cover the shame in your eyes. 

“You never told me you baked!” Aziraphale chirps, clasping his hands together. The red tint that adorns your cheeks is positively adorable; Aziraphale has never seen you so flustered! He didn’t think bashful was listed in your range of emotions to be perfectly honest.   

You pathetically sputter, trying to conjure up some sort of excuse but coming up short. Would he believe you if you said you were attempting to poison the nasty old lady who lived next door? Probably not. 

“Who, me? Bake? Don’t be preposterous, Azi!” The angel just continues to beam at you, much to your chagrin.

“Oh, so who made that stack of crepes then?” He motions to the plate filled with a generous portion of fresh crepes, still steaming. Your flush intensifies. 

“I-I have no idea! How peculiar…”

Aziraphale says your name like the coo of a dove, urging the truth from you. He’ll continue to persist, and you sigh in defeat at the realization that you just don’t have the energy to combat him. You silently reprimand yourself for your incessant laziness. 

“Fine, fine,” you begin with a dismissive wave. Aziraphale’s smile only widens at your admission. “If you must know, I enjoy baking from time to time. It feels nice, the manual labor that is...” You feel painfully sheepish all of a sudden. 

“And...all of these are for you?” It’s an earnest question poised with so much sweetness it hurts your teeth. 

“No,” you mumble. Transparency has never been one of your strong suits but Aziraphale has a talent for changing people. Crowley can personally attest to that. “They’re for you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widen in shock. “For me?” He parrots and you scoff. How dare he have the audacity to make you admit this not once but twice. 

“Yes you!” You bark. When he flinches you feel a pang where your heart should be and you soften your tone.  Pursing your lips, you cross your arms over your chest like a petulant child. After centuries of exposure to your mannerisms, Aziraphale found himself admitting that they were actually quite sweet. What a shift - from Hellish to cute in the span of a day. 

“I,” you pause, mulling over your words. He awaits them with bated breath. “I felt bad for leaving you and Crow alone. So I...wanted to make it up to you, I guess.” You admit shyly. It wasn’t much, but you figured you could play it off as a gesture of good faith from a local bakery. Wishful thinking in retrospect. 

Aziraphale helps himself to a seat at your kitchen island, littered with bowls of fruit and whipped cream. He’s already gone to work on preparing himself a crepe filled to the brim with all the proper fixings. 

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Aziraphale asks, patting the empty stool next to him. Once again you find heat rushing to your face. How could an angel such as himself be so unconditionally hospitable to a nefarious Hell-inhabitant? And you thought you were the strange one. 

You grumble some nonsense under your breath and comply with his request. Aziraphale is certainly pleased as punch. He continues helping himself to your hard work (it was meant for him after all) and moaning in delight with each bite. Your heart beats wildly against your ribs; you must be dying. 

“These are absolutely scrumptious, my dear.” He says with a sincerity you’re still not used to. It’s hard to reciprocate but you try your best. One step at a time.

“Thanks…” you grouse, but the appreciation is there. Aziraphale hears it - he always will.

[zairapvrker]

Teeth: Vampire!Luke // Chapter 4

Summary: Luke knows the rules and his boundaries, he has respected them for centuries. He knows he should stay as far away as possible from every human on his path. But that was before she came along.

Author’s Note: this is most definitely not inspired by a true story *cough* *cough*. sorry if it’s kind of short.

Warnings: underage drinking, alcohol, the usual high school party fuckery. PLEASE DO NOT DRINK IF YOU’RE UNDER AGE. IT AIN’T FUN. unedited.

masterlist | chapter 3 , chapter 5

Did I like parties? I sure did, I almost never missed one. But did I enjoy sitting on a couch in a stuffy living room filled with roudy, drunk teenagers jumping around and screaming along to the blaring music, beside a couple who was smooching the night away - holding a half empty bottle of beer? Not really. My issue wasn’t particularly with the mainstreem music playing too loud, or the shitty alcohol: it was the fact that I wasn’t enjoying any of it. Usually I’d be the one dancing on the table after just an hour, without a care in the world for the horrible music and likewise horrible drinks. However, right now, the impossible headache I had been dealing with wouldn’t let me go and this sense of pure alienation I was feeling from time to time was coming back.

Nothing was helping my situation, my current whereabouts even less, so I decided to walk outside in hope that some fresh air would help me feel better. Compared to the inside, the backyard felt like heaven - with its much more quiet noises of chattering coming from the few people out here and the muffled music coming from the speakers - so I decided to sit on a lonely deckchair. Looking up at the sky I felt more at ease, still the buzzing in the back of my head I was trying so hard to shush wouldn’t leave me.

“Quite a show, huh?”

“For the love of God!” I couldn’t help but yell, finding Luke now seated at the end of my chair - looking up at the night sky. I didn’t bother reminding him not to startle me like that, somehow I felt like he already knew he shouldn’t.

“What, the stars or that one sophomore who almost smashed his head on the table?” he smirked at my remark, almost laughed.

“That was funny” he allowed. “But I was talking about the stars”

I felt like rolling my eyes, but something in me stopped me from doing so. I wanted to be annoyed with him and, quite frankly, I wished he would just leave me alone already - but a bigger part of me wished that he would never be too far from me. At my prolonged silence Luke turned around to meet my eyes, a single blond curl falling on his forhead, and I had to fight against my own hand - which was ready and itching to put it back in place.

“So, whose house is this?” I asked instead, not without great effort, feeling the need to keep the conversation going.

“Macy’s” he answered flatly.

“The one in art class?” I recalled, still unsure.

“Actually, that’s her sister” he looked frustrated and I could tell he felt uneasy, that he wished I’d said something else but I couldn’t for the life of me know what that was.

So we stayed in silence for a while, observing the scene that played in front of us. I didn’t like the way I felt around him, I decided. As if I was on alert every ticking second, either ready to run or to fall. Every single nerve in my body was waiting for something to happen so that it could react, it was exhausting. The question that was forming inside of my head was stupid, I knew it was, but somehow felt like the only right thing I could ask him. It played over and over, my mind practiced by itself the different intonations that could go along with it until it found what felt like the right one. I didn’t get to ask though, not yet.

“New kid!” a loud girl with short black hair approached us, clearly too happy or very drunk. “Leave this big loser alone and come hang with us” although it was meant to be a question, she didn’t wait for an answer, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me over to her group of friends. I turned around to see Luke sitting there baffled, but with the shadow of a smile on his lips.

“I’m Ashley by the way, these are Mike and Cal” she plopped down on the spot where she was sitting before, gesturing for me to sit beside her. “We decided to come and save you from big bore Hemmings” they all chuckled at that.

“Why, is he a boring guy?” I asked then, as my beer was quickly exchanged for a new fresh one by the boy with blue hair.

“Don’t know. He’s quite a loner, we figured you’d have more fun here with us” the blond shrugged with a smile, bringing his drink to his lips. “Have you talked to him?” he asked after taking a gulp.

“Not more than a few sentences at a time” I answered, then sipping my beer.

“Told ya” the blue haired boy smiled. “He’s a private guy”

The other two laughed quietly and I managed a smile. Most of the night I spent with my newfound class mates, who were actually pretty fun to be around. Multiple times I turned around casually, to check if Luke was still there, and he was. Lounging on the deckchair with his eyes closed, unbothered.

When we decided to call it a night, after even dancing around for a while, things started going downhill. From the inside we felt a commotion and suddenly the music stopped, the lights went out. Alarmed, I turned to the three who were with me and understood from their faces that they knew what was going on. Ashley mouthed “police” to me and then gestured for us to hide behind the foosball table. While crouched down there everyone was dead silent. This would get us nowhere if not arrested once an officer came and checked the backyard. Rolling my eyes I quickly looked around, finding that the backyard had a gate that led to the woods. Gesturing for them to follow me, I started making my way towards it.

“Bea, you’re crazy. We’re going to die” said Michael alarmed.

“Well, it’s either this or calling your parents at four in the morning telling them you’ve been arrested” I shushed him quickly. Luke was nowhere to be found, I noticed. “Does any of you know your way around?”

“I live a couple houses down, we have a backyard like this too. We can sneak into mine” said Calum, that was the best option. Neither Ashley nor Michael looked convinced, but making it out of there was number one priority now.

“Listen, we just follow the other houses’ fences until we get to Calum’s, we don’t need to run into the woods” I assured them. “Can you recognize your house?” I asked the blue haired boy, who nodded seriously. But before anyone could add anything else we heard what looked like an officer opening the glass door. Michael threw the gate open and ushered us all out of there, it closing behind us loudly.

“Who’s there?” we heard calling. With wide eyes and racing hearts everyone stopped dead in their tracks, barely making a sound. When we started hearing footsteps, not clear in which direction, Calum took the lead and started guiding us the right way as swiftly as possible. I heard Ashley sushing Michael after swearing for having stepped on a branch.

Quietly I followed behind Calum, who was marching fast and counting under his breath the roofs of the houses we were passing by. I kept a hand on the wooden fences just for good measure. Looking into the woods was quite scary, even if the trees didn’t start to thicken for a while.

“Shit” hissed the boy in front of me. “What?” asked Michael, sounding worried. “I lost count” admitted Calum sheepishly. “You fucking moron!” hissed then Ashley. “We’re going to die. I knew it, I should’ve stayed and get arrested” started rambling the fringed boy.

I sighed heavily, what the hell did I throw myself into? Meanwhile the hisses didn’t stop and between Ashley trying to keep Michael calm and insulting Calum at the same time, who was trying to defend himself, I tried thinking of a solution. “Do any of you have any battery left on their phones?” I asked, stopping the commotion. Everyone checked and in the end, the dark haired girl handed me hers.

Opening the Maps app I asked Calum for the his house’s street number. “We still need to walk down two other houses” I sentenced then.

“Finally we have a smart friend” cried Michael in joy, hugging me. I laughed quietly, handing the phone back to its owner. The march begun again and reached its stop not too long after.

“Could you unlock the gate faster? Sun’s rising in an hour and a half and I’m not home yet” said Ashley in an attempt to pressure Calum, which almost resulted in another argument -“I’m trying Ashley, do you want to give it a go?”- if it weren’t for Michael deciding to rest his back against it - sighing in despair - and the sheer luck of it already being unlocked, opening under his weight. He cheered despite landing on his butt.

As sneakily as possible we entered from the backdoor and stopped in the kitchen. We looked at each other in the eye and started laughing as quietly as possible, releasing all the adrenaline. “You’re officially part of the group and I hereby pronounce you: the smart one” Michael lifted his glass of water, followed by his two friends, and I smiled rather fondly at them. “I accept the title, sir”

Once I had charged my phone for a while, I decided to call my mom so that she could pick me up. I felt sorry for waking her up at almost five in the morning, but she assured me the whole ride back home that it was absolutely fine and even asked me when I’d go out with my friends again.

“Alright sweetie, try and get at least some sleep” my mom said after locking the front door and walking to her room. I nodded, wishing her a goodnight.

Before getting to sleep though, my mind wandered back to that moment before Ashley had come to sweep me away from Luke and to that question I couldn’t ask him. It kept replaying in my mind again and again, making it impossible for me to find comfort in sleep.

Do I know you?

tags: @keithseabrook27

[holocronarchive]

hi! i'm very new to the star wars fandom, i've only been a VERY casual "fan" for the last fifteen years or so if i can even call myself that. i wanted to ask something: i know that coruscant is split into over 5000 different levels, but how exactly does it work? where does the coruscant underworld begin? it's just so confusing and every source i find online just assumes i know what the underworld is exactly and what facility is present on what level of the city...

well first of all- 

welcome to the fandom, personally I like to consider myself a hermit in it myself in the sense that I watch most of the fandom from a safe distance, taking in what I need/want and then just scurrying off like Yoda back to my little hut of nerdines lol

if you’re ever unsure, remember, the force is with us all and even the most casual person is welcome simply because they enjoy the material. If its one movie- you’re in, if its one scene cause it makes you feel excited/like a child or EVEN just feel ANYTHING you’re in

gatekeeping is not allowed and anyone who gatekeeps is worse than Darth Jar Jar 

so that being said do not worry for Not knowing something, wishing for info or simply “being casual” you’re not required to meet any standards here (or anywhere for that matter) those who say otherwise are shitty people and I say don’t represent what it means to enjoy the star wars universe, they become the very things we dislike (extremists who take this pure enjoyable series and ruin it for others)

now to answer your question

I’ll be pulling a chunk of the answer from the wiki to “spark note things” since 1- with new canon still filtering in over the years since Disney took over I know there has been some changes to things and I rather not mix and match 

2- I admit I’m still waking up for the day so I don’t want my “booting up brain” to go all conspiracy theory map on ya and leave you MORE confused than you had been prior to this.

ALRIGHTY

The dense city blocks were built on top of each other, with lowest being Level 1 and the highest reaching to Level 5127. The lowest known habitable level was Level 5. At its highest level, Galactic City's skyscrapers were built with many reaching 6,000 meters into the atmosphere, with sleek, transparisteel edifices standing next to older duracrete structures.

I’d argue that levels 1-4 are uninhabitable due to SO MUCH time and over population that essentially it had a “greenhouse gas” affect, where the populations impact pollution wise and other wise just footprint on the ecology of the world made those first few areas of the planet deadly and needing to be avoided (but I could be wrong and if so any info on that from anyone would be appreciated)

This was because the planet became the central hub for civilization and that meant constant growth of urbanized areas/continuously needing to expand to accommodate more and more people coming to and settling on the world. Seeing as you can’t “download more ram” in the form of expanding your planet, the best thing to do is once you cover everything already...build up.

Coruscant’s distance from it’s sun also meant it had a climate that didn’t SUIT any one particular species (which is why the world’s weather is very strictly controlled so that everyone on world is ok climate wise) the buildings that expanded into the troposphere caused unusual and unpredictable microclimates as well (which explains why certain parts always looked the way they did)

Supposedly the birth place of humanity in star wars (again as of now, if that changes can happen) who eventually traveled and explored the rest of the galaxy (look at us- spreading like a virus even in fiction lol) Coruscant became the center of political and cultural life in the galaxy quickly. 

Old Canon stated - Following the end of the Clone Wars, an official census noted 1 trillion official permanent residents. The statistics did not include transients, temporary workers, unregistered populace, nor residents of orbital facilities. Because of these omissions, the actual population of Coruscant was estimated to be three times the official record.

Coruscant was once a world mostly covered in oceans.[24] However, all natural bodies of water were drained and stored in vast caverns beneath the city as a result of years of overpopulation. The only body of water visible was the artificial Western Sea, with many artificial islands floating on it, used by tourists on holidays.[1]

With no other bodies of water available to feed and water its trillion inhabitants, Coruscant's architects, along with many others from around the galaxy, worked together to build a self-contained eco-system in the massive buildings set all over the planet. Polar cap stations also melted ice and distributed water throughout the planet-wide city through a complex series of pipes

As stated- while its been a few years since Disney acquired star wars, and rebooted the Canon there is limited info on how the DETAILS of the many MANY levels of Coruscant work. even old canon/legends was sketchy on A LOT of details, giving broad strokes and covering only what was needed in whatever material you came across that way not to feel like TOTAL exposition dumps.

That being said, with the newly announced High Republic content starting in August I do believe we’ll be finally learning a LOT more about Coruscant proper because we’ll be setting the plot of those stories 200 years before the Skywalker saga. This meaning that we’ll see the Republic in it’s highest and hopefully purist state giving reason to learn more about the mega city world and granting us A MUCH NEEDED insight into how the world functions. Guilded as it is as a “perfect world” I doubt that even at its golden age, all of Coruscant benefited

Especially when a world has nearly a trillion lives, someone was unaccounted for and I imagine we’ll finally start seeing more and more as the NEW content releases this year 

Hopefully all this was helpful for your question. I’m sorry there isn’t more of a “here is how each level of the planet is established” but to my knowledge there isn’t really much yet in that area. At least none that I’ve consumed media wise and I’m still playing catch up (speaking just watched clone wars s7e2 last night and OOOOOOOboooooy I’m so happy we finally are getting this season!

But again hopefully this is a good “Spark note” answer and if more info is available hopefully someone can add to it OR I’ll add to it in the future ^.^

May the Force be with you

The holocron archivist 

[greenninjagal-blog]

Nine Nails in a Coffin (ch3)

Summary: Logan is the best assassin he knows. Unfortunately, Patton Hart and Virgil Storm are proving more difficult to kill than he expected. Also a reporter makes an appearance.

Word Count: 4950

Pairings: Eventual Logicality and Prinxiety

Multichapter fic say whatttttt

Read on AO3 || Ch1 Ch2

By the time Logan realized that Patton and Virgil were still alive, he was fifteen minutes from the airport on the opposite side of the city, his two bags packed neatly, and his much anticipated cabin in the woods rented for the following week. It was only thanks to his obsessive triple checking of the online news website that he managed to catch the inconceivable announcement before he got out of the taxi.

Logan wasn't quite sure he had ever been as mad as he was in that moment, as his eyes skimmed the short article about the faulty gasmain and the terrible, awful accident that had occurred earlier that afternoon. It had resulted in the death of an exterminator, and the hospitalization of two residents. The (brilliant, amazing, talented) author promised more when they had sufficient details. Logan wanted to throw his phone-- no actually he wanted to take his phone and shove it down Patton Hart's throat and watch him struggle to breathe around it.

Logan had plans! He had things to do! Why couldn't the preschool teacher and his roommate accept that and die?

Logan rapped on the taxi window that divide the driver from himself. His knuckles stung from the impact. The car jerked.

“How far is the hospital from here?” Logan asked shortly.

The driver, a man in his late forties with a burlap cap and a scruffy attempt at a goatee, glanced at him in the rearview mirror, “Ya gotta be specific, buddy. Which Hospital?”

The author of the article covering the apartment explosion hadn't said which one the victims were taken too. Logan gritted his teeth. “Whichever is the closest from here.”

“You alright, buddy?” The man's eyebrows furrowed, “I got an insurance policy! You can't sue-”

“Take me,” Logan ordered, “to the hospital. Do not make me repeat myself.”

The man nodded hurriedly and flicked on his blinker. He got off on the next exit and Logan leaned back in the seat scowling at his phone until his eyes crossed. The leather of the seat felt sticky and dirty, and Logan scratched at his wrist as if he could pull the irritating feeling from his veins once and for all. His phone screen went dark, leaving him glaring at his own reflection: his hair swept neatly back, his collar even on both sides with his tie perfectly centered. To the driver, he must have looked like a young CEO or businessman.

It was ironic, Logan supposed, that the man driving him to the hospital had no idea that Logan was plotting to murder someone as he sat there.

From a young age Logan had taught himself the best way to kill someone. He had grown up with people talking about it, casually, almost comically. His father liked to break into houses and wait with a gun, liked when his prey saw him, and loved watching the fear in his victims eyes when their life leaks away. He gathered jobs the way Logan had heard other fathers gathered sport merchandise: as many as he could handle at a time and then some. His mother preferred the opposite: she delighted in the long game, in teasing and pulling and persuading. She spent months unraveling her marks, worming her way into their lives and then when it was no longer fun, she ended it, eliminated the mark, and disappeared completely. She called herself the smartest person in the room and when Logan was talking to her via a phone call from across the country, Logan believed her.

But when they were in the same house, Logan knew the difference. His mother was smart and creative--Logan took those traits and combined it with his father’s short temper and preference for guns. He didn’t have to know his mark personally to kill them, didn’t have to stand over their bodies and watch the light in their eyes fade because the compulsion ruled his actions.

Logan was more efficient without the unnecessary step that held both his parents. He was a better ghost story, a nightmare. He was the bullet one never saw coming and never saw leaving.

So why did Logan suddenly feel the need to storm Patton Hart’s hospital room and choke the life out of him with his own hands?

He flexed his fingers on his left hand, noting the curious shaking in them. It seemed that his routine of keeping his distance wasn’t going to work. If he wasn’t careful whatever police were in the city, or the FBI, or whoever tried to prevent his line of work, would catch on to him. Logan didn’t like the idea that he get sloppy, didn’t like the idea that someone could catch him on camera, as a physical proof he existed.

It takes them ten minutes to get to the nearest hospital. Each minute settles in Logan’s spine, winding him up until his entire body was shaking with anger. His temples ached but he couldn’t make his jaw unclench. He tossed exact change to the driver, gathered both his bags, and flung himself out of the taxi with just enough control to avoid taking out a woman talking on her phone.

The driver rolled down his window, “Hey, man--”

Logan cut him down with a glare.

“I mean, S-sir!” The driver corrected himself, “Are you going to be back? I can--”

“If I need a taxi I will call another one.” Logan said shortly. He turned away.

He hooked his duffle over his shoulder, careful of his rifle that was positioned safely between layers of his dark polos and dress pants. Logan had spent far too long trying to pack everything back into his perfect system, the system he had held together for years, before he remembered he was missing his Glock still. Whatever had happened to it, between Logan ready to shoot Patton, and Logan hitting the ground when Virgil ran into him-- he had lost the gun. It was technically unregistered, and untraceable, and certainly didn’t lead back to Logan in anyway. But there was a slim barely noticeable empty space where his gun should have been and it wasn’t there. Somehow that made the whole bag feel lighter-- too light. Like if Logan moved to fast the bag would go flying off his shoulder.

It was irrational to blame that on Patton and Virgil, and it was likely Logan’s own fault for the whole thing, his own gross misattention causing him to lose a very valuable piece of equipment. However Logan thought he really didn’t care. If Patton had just allowed himself to be shot the first time Logan wouldn’t have even needed to pull out his Glock. If Virgil had died and stayed dead the first time around then he wouldn’t have been alive to run into Logan to knock his glasses off and distract him long enough to lose his gun.

Logan glanced at his watch, fighting the urge to tear into his veins and rip that annoying itch out of his skin. He would have to work fast--finding the hospital Patton and Virgil were at in less than an hour, bluffing his way inside (which would take only a few minutes), finding the room (slightly longer), and killing them (which would take anywhere from two minutes to fifteen depending on the extent of their injuries)-- if he wanted to catch his flight. But that wasn’t taking into account the travel time to make it back to the airport.

It was good practice to get to the airport three hours before a flight took off. Logan thought he could murder Patton Hart and Virgil Storm and get back to the airport with five minutes to spare. It would be cutting it close--closer than he wanted it to be. But he also wanted to prioritize the time he had rented his cabin for.

Logan strolled into the lobby of the Hospital, the scent of lemon cleaner and the steril appearance of the area settling the nerves in him. He always felt nostalgia when entering hospitals: they felt like his childhood home. The cleanliness, the quiet hush, the wide open front rooms with a lot of artificial light and the polished floors that Logan could see his reflection in. Even the more chaotic areas provided a slight correlation in Logan’s mind: the ER reminding him of all the times his parents had taken him out for practice late at night.

“What can I do for you, sir?” The receptionist asked with cherry blossom pink lips. Logan wasn’t stupid. He knew that she was sitting straighter than she was before he walked in, knew that her slowly blinking at him was supposed to be showing off her eyes, knew that her sudden need to curl her dark hair around her finger was a nervous tic.

He gave her the fakest smile he’d ever had grace his face. Her face blushed so fast Logan worried that he was going to have to call a doctor for her.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” He said, letting the smile drop to something more frantic, “I just received a call that my cousin was in an accident! I came as soon as I could but it did not occur to me to ask where he would be! It’s really irresponsible of me, but he just means so much to me and I couldn’t stand the thought of him being in pain--”

The girl’s-- because she must have been at least ten years younger than he was-- eyes widen with surprise and maybe a bit of horror. “Oh. Oh! I’m so sorry! What’s his name? I can tell you where he is!”

Logan told her the name of the man he was sent to kill and she tapped it into her computer like every second mattered. For a few tense moments Logan stood there one hand on the counter the other holding the straps to his bag.

The receptionist frowned, “oh, uh,” she looked up at him, “It looks like he’s not at our facility. Are you sure you got a call from us?”

Logan faked his surprise, “There’s more than one hospital, here? I’m new to town. I-I didn’t--”

She took pity on the perception of him that he allowed her to see. She shuffled through papers behind the desk, and came back with a map of the city and a black pen. Logan listened intently while she described the --thankfully only-- two other hospitals and circled their locations on the map for him to find. Logan reached out to take the map from her, their hands brushing, and he swallowed a scream.

Her skin felt like rose thorns snagging on his fingertips and tearing pulsing gashes in his hand. Logan drew back quickly, probably too quickly. Her brow furrowed.

“Thank you,” Logan said, “You’ve been a massive help.”

He didn’t run out of the building. He wasn’t that type of person. But he could hear his heartbeat rising as he turned his back on the girl, his hand burning with the phantom of her touch. The map crinkled in his grip.

He didn’t actually inhale fully until he was out of the building again, both his bags on the ground next to him as he leaned against a pillar on the smoking pavillion. The sun was hiding behind the distant buildings, and a chill had picked up the stale city smog. The cars that were so far away, the traffic suddenly seemed so long, the darkness too dark, and the air too dry. Logan pressed his body against the pillar, his pulsing palms dug into the white painted wood, his eyes screwed closed in an attempt to shut off his senses.

Then as suddenly as it had come, it left. Like a flip of a switch. The overwhelming incoherent screaming in his head silenced leaving absolutely nothing in its place but a numbness. Logan inhaled with with a sharp shuddering that he felt all over his chest and his neck. His jaw creaked with the force he used to clamp his scream down.

Logan exhaled. Then his knees gave out. He slid down the pillar and hit the ground right next to his bags.

He was shaking again. He stared at the hand he had brushed against the receptionist with and cursed himself for doing… doing whatever the hell that was. It wasn’t like she had cut him, bruised him-- it had barely been a tap of their fingers. But Logan could feel exactly where it had been down to the atoms. There was no mark, and yet it had made him run out of the building like some scolded dog with his tail between his legs. Logan didn’t think he could get more suspicious than that.

He swallowed thickly, and clenched his hands into fists.

Fine, whatever. This job already was a mess. But it would be over soon. It would be over and Logan could go lick his wounds somewhere far away from other people where he’d never have to risk anyone brushing up against him.

He rolled his watch around his wrist to check his timetable. He had lost several more minutes than he intended to, but he could still make the flight. He nodded to himself and uncrumpled the map the receptionist had given him and smoothed it out on his knee. Assuming that she was correct in marking the other facilities Patton could have been taken to, Logan just had to identify the one closest to Patton’s apartment.

Logan allowed a slight twitch of his lips. He stuffed the map in his pocket and gathered his two bags. He called the taxi company.

Soon this mess would be over.

The last bits of the sun had drained from the sky by the time Logan’s second taxi pulled up to the hospital.

“Uh, sir,” The driver, whom Logan decided he liked more than the other one, squirmed in his seat, “You aware that there no vist hour now? No let you in.”

“I’m not going in.” He lied. “I’m driving my friend home in his car. His brother is ill. He’s inconsolable. Keep the change.”

Logan removed himself from the car and stared up at the building. The lobby was dark with only emergency lights on letting everyone know that the area was of limits until the morning again. He waved the taxi driver off as he took in the layout. Sure the normal hospital was closed now, but the ER was open all hours of the day. He just needed to get inside.

He stashed his bags under a bush, out of sight of anyone wondering by. Then Logan straightened his tie, adjusted his glasses and headed around the building keeping his head down and out of sight of any cameras watching the area.

For all intents and purposes, Logan walked right into the building. It was almost too easy, unfairly easy. Where was the challenge? Where was the nurse asking him what he was doing? Where was the sudden ambulance pulling in the yelling for all hands on deck?

Logan snagged a white coat off a hanger in the hall, smiled at the on-duty officer who was chatting up the ER receptionist, and walked right up to the computer to check where Patton Hart and Virgil Storm were without being acknowledged.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled to see the record either. It appeared that Patton had avoided even a major injury-- a measly two ribs broken and a sprained wrist. The doctors were prepared to release him early the next morning assuming that nothing turned up over night. Virgil Storm, however, wasn’t recorded at all. Which meant that he had already been discharged and Logan was going to have to track him down.

Logan cleared the search with slightly more force than he meant to. The receptionist glanced over at him, but the officer talking to her reached out placed his hand on hers. They both promptly forgot Logan existed.

He swallowed his urge to roll his eyes and headed down the hall.

He could not wait to get out of the hospital, the city, the country. Away from all the stupid idiots in the world. He couldn’t wait to be somewhere quiet and calm and isolated. The more he thought about it, the more Patton Hart’s existence annoyed him. Like a thorn in his side, digging and prodding, and...and just existing!

Patton’s overall sweet personality had to be a lie. His innocence, his kindness, his smile-- all of is had to be a lie! After all, someone had gone to great lengths to hire Logan to kill him. Patton who taught tiny children for a living, who stopped to talk to the homeless on the street and gave away all his spare change, who remembered the names of every person he saw on his morning commute was somehow the same Patton who had ticked someone off so badly they requested the finest assassin they could get.

It made no sense. But then again Logan wasn't paid to determine if it made sense or not. He was paid to kill people. He was the executioner, not the jury.

(Not that there was a jury either really. Logan supposed in his line of work things were unjust and unfair as they could get. Logan wasn't supposed to-- didn't-- care about the specifics.)

((He would just have to get use to the feeling of not knowing what Patton had done.))

Logan took a detour getting to the fourth floor (Which was reserved for those staying one-night according to the system). He slipped into the medicinal hall, where he passed by two more night nurses who were too engrossed in a quiet conversation to ask him what he was doing. It was strange was a white coat and a pair of glasses did for the perception of him.

In a few hours when they found two of their charges rightfully dead and they went back through the cameras they would see him breezing through their slim defence. By the time they realized the explosion in their apartment was planned, Patton would be dead.

The back office where the assortment of carefully counted drugs were was locked up tight. It was likely also enforced with strict locks that Logan by no means could kick in-- not that he was going to because it was near silent and he didn’t want to cause anyone any alarm yet. Logan slipped his second pair of lock picks from his sleeve and made short work of the lock while no one was around.

Once inside he carefully closed the door behind him and set to work checking the inventory. It was meticulous, with a carefully counted supply of everything, which Logan applauded. Especially when it only took three minutes to find the drug he was looking for.

Logan wasn’t a doctor, but even he had educated himself on the most common drugs. His mother had been particularly fond of Ketamine, and thus Logan’s fingers set to work with the memory of her voice in his ear.

It’s primary use was to facilitate general anesthesia during surgeries, but Logan had grown up knowing that it impaired motor functions and caused respiratory issues. And the difference between a safe dosage and an overdose was slight.

Once it was injected, there was five minutes before Logan would be certain that his victims would not be recovering.

He flitted around the room to find a syringe, filled it with the clear liquid, and placed it in his pocket.

Then with a weapon of mass destruction in his borrowed coat jacket he slipped from the medicinal room back into an empty, half lit hallway. His shoes made no noise on the polished tile floor. Logan glided towards the room where Patton would be safely asleep at this hour of the night, safely unaware that he was going to die, safely unaware that Logan was going to kill him even if it was the last thing he ever did.

Even the doors on the fourth floor didn’t lock, under the premise that if there was an emergency they needed to be able to get in without the locks being in the way. It just made getting into the room easier. He pulled out one syringe and turned the door handle slowly, silently and pushing it inwards.

He opened it the bare minimum and escaped inside before more than a dash of the dull hallway light could leak in.

The darkness was a quiet comfort. Logan stood still as his eyes adjusted to the new surroundings. The room smelled like lemon clorox wipes, reminiscent of Logan’s childhood again. The floor was clean, the shadows long and deep and comforting. The air conditioner hummed a solemn tone that intersected with the fitful breathing coming from one of the beds--one of the two beds that both had bodies in them.

He crept across the floor, navigating by only the moonlight that echoed through the slit in the curtains.

He twisted the syringe in his fingers, as he towered over the closest bed listening to the breathing. It was nearly non existent-- not like the bed Logan knew was Patton’s. There was nothing in the system about anyone sharing Patton’s room.

But he was staring down at the unmistakable passive face of a sleeping Virgil Storm and Logan wished he had grabbed two syringes just to put two of them in the man he killed a year ago.

He imagined himself putting the current syringe in his pocket and silent reaching out-- reaching out like a shadow, like a monster from under the bed-- and grabbing one of the pillows Virgil was sleeping on and twisting it over the other’s face. Logan was certain he could heave himself onto the bed straddling Virgil’s body before he could react and pinning his arms and feet to the cot as he smothered the oxygen out of Virgil’s body. He could do it right now-- get rid of the problem before he had a chance to act and then while Patton was still blissfully asleep Logan could insert the Ketamine into the IV pump he was hooked up to.

He could do it.

He should do it.

Logan moved slowly replacing the syringe in his coat pocket, and sliding his sleeves up. His fingers grazed over the pillow--

A clear rap cut through the night like a balloon popping. Impossibly, startling loud and sudden.

And Virgil’s eyes snapped open barely a millisecond later.

Logan grabbed the pillow from under his head, but Virgil was fast-- inhumanely fast-- throwing himself upwards with one hand catching Logan’s throat and pulling him over the bed. Logan threw a foot up to catch the other’s face. Virgil hit the wall with a thud, his fingers tearing off Logan’s neck painfully. Logan rolled off the bed and hit the ground on his hip. The wrong hip. He felt the glass syringe in his pocket shatter.

The room flooded with light as the door flung open and a fourth person gracefully slid their way into the house.

“Oh,” the most musical, most alluring, most amazing voice Logan had ever heard, said, “Am I interrupting something?”

Logan scrambled to his feet facing the newest intruder, and froze assessing him: incredibly chiseled features that turned him almost mythical in the slim color of the moonlight, eyes dark and mysterious with a light in them that out shown the stars, hair that swept in to the side like a unified peaceful ocean waiting for someone to dragged their fingers through, bold shoulders that anyone (but preferably a male) would be desperate to climb as he whispered sweet nothings in their ears--

Ow, okay! Wrong details! I get it! Yeesh.

Virgil slid off his bed, opposite of Logan, placing the bed between them and himself in front of Patton. He swayed dangerously but raised his hands in a poor mockery of a fighting stance.

Logan rolled over himself, swinging up on one knee in a much more advanced steady stance. His eyes darted between the gorgeous newcomer and his prey. His throat burned from where Virgil’s hand had come in contact with his bare skin. The ghost of the fingers squeezed the breath from his chest and Logan found it hard to remind himself it wasn’t there.

The newcomer threw up his hands, “Easy now, I’m not here to fight. I’m sure no one wants to fight!”

“Who are you?” Logan peeled himself up from the his stance much like a ragdoll standing up, effortlessly, creepily in the shadows of the darkened room. He pressed glasses up his nose, in a calculated movement, his voice cold and cutting in the tense air.

“What he isn’t one of your little friends?” Virgil snapped.

“Obviously not.” Logan sneered, “I work alone.”

“Hey now!” The newcomer sang, “Introductions? I’m Roman Prince. I’m a--”

Virgil hissed distastefully. “You’re a writer for the MIND Times. Son of the fucking CEO.” He narrowed his eyes. “Get out. Both of you.”

“Hold on! Hold on!” Roman said, “You don’t even know why I’m here!”

“I don’t care either,” Virgil snapped, “Get out before I call security.”

Logan thought of the dime-a-dozen cop at the ER desk. Fit, but lax. Logan had no doubt he could take any police officers that Virgil managed to call. He could take on this Roman Prince, too. But he couldn’t do it silently, and he most certainly couldn’t do it faster than it would take the City police to blockade the building.

“I’m here to interview you!” Roman yelped.

“I definitely don’t want that.” Virgil hunched his shoulders, “Get Out!”

For a tense second no one moved. Logan watched both of them, his mind doing mental math calculations. He didn’t like the unknown of being so close to people, didn’t like the sudden appearance of the strangely attractive writer, didn’t like the variables that ripped through his plans.

Then there was another noise-- a harsh noise that made all of them freeze. A catch of breath and a ragged cough. “V-Virgil?”

“Right here, Pat,” Virgil said without turning around, “Go back to sleep.”

“What’s-” He coughed again, “What’s going on?”

“A reporter and a--” Virgil narrowed his eyes at Logan, “-another reporter are here. They’re leaving. Go back to sleep.” Virgil refused to back down, daring Logan to correct him, to answer the entirely false premise with a horrifying truth.

Patton wriggled in his bed, coughed again, and then to Logan complete befuddlement tried to sit up. The IV bag neck to him swung on its hook. He looked different in the pale light and dark shadows: a version of Patton that Logan could convince himself had done something bad enough to warrant a hit on him. Without his glasses, he peered at the two of them through squinted eyes, then a sleepy grin lit up his face.

“You came to see us?” Patton whispered, “That’s so nice.”

“Pat,” Virgil said in warning.

“I’m really t-tired,” Patton continued on with gasping breaths, “But maybe we can d-do lunch tom-morrow?”

“Patton!”

Roman clenched his fists in victory, “Yes! Perfect! I know this little sandwich shop--”

“No!” Virgil swore, “We are not--”

“I’d be delighted,” Logan said straightening the cuffs on his jacket, “There are an assortment of questions I have for you to answer.” His lips curved into a faux smile, “As I am a reporter and all.”

Virgil looked like he wanted to murder all of them, but Logan and him had a stare off. His desperate, wild eyes clashing with Logan’s cold, humorless ones. Logan’s hand slipped into his pocket, dancing around the shards of glass and the cold fabric of the Ketamine soaked pouch.

“Of course, only if Patton is feeling up to it,” Logan added, “I wouldn’t want to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“I’d love to!” Patton exclaimed, then inhaled sharply with a hand to his chest. “I love-- mak-king new friends.”

Virgil gritted his teeth, his purple hair hiding one of his eyes. “Fine,” He hissed after a moment, “What time?”

Logan failed a third time and missed his flight to his cozy little cabin in the woods, but he knew exactly where his injured prey was going to be the following day. Patton was oblivious, Virgil was going to be distracted, Roman didn’t know what was going to happen, and Logan would make his move before anyone could stop him.

***

Roman paused, glancing up at the Detective, “You said I was acquitted of all charges, right? Not just the murder charge?”

The Detective rubbed his forehead, “You said you were there to interview them. Why did you want to interview them? I thought you were there for the play.”

“I was!” Roman said almost offended that the other man would suggest otherwise. “Kind of? Well not really.”

“Care to elaborate, Mr. Prince?”

“I will, I will!” He promised, “Things only make sense in order! Imagine if I began talking about how I was covered in human blood when you found me! You undoubtedly wouldn’t understand anything I said!”

“I can still arrest you.”

“But you won’t.” Roman said, voice suddenly unfriendly and hard. He stared at the Detective across from him. “I’m the only one left able to tell the story.”

“Fine. Then tell me exactly when you realized that Logan Codex was an assassin.”

Roman tapped his fingers on the table, “Exactly? Eleven thirty-four in the morning the day after I met him in the hospital.” He focused on the other man, “About an hour before we agreed to meet up for lunch.”

Ch4

Taglist: @dierotenixe @fhaky @growingupisscary @jemthebookworm @just-another-rainbowblog @levy-the-b00kw0rm @no-no-no-no-6  @sandersfandersblog @satanblessi @felicianoromano

Let me know if I missed anyone/you want to be added :)

[bohemian-war]

‘LOVE WILL TEAR US APART’ [CHAPTER 2]

(Credits to @bens-hardy  for the gif).

Ben Hardy!Six x Fem Reader (Six Underground)

Summary (Six Underground): The film tells the story of 6 billionaires who form a vigilante squad by faking their deaths to take down notorious criminals. Warnings: language, character development, flirting, alcohol…

Word Count: 2.5k+ (…sorry that it’s too short)

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry that this took so long. I have been extremely busy these past few weeks so I hope you really enjoy this part. I am also taking my time as I don’t want to reveal everything straightaway so even when this chapter feels like a filler one, don’t you worry because from chapter three I am gonna start explaining everything about the Six Underground organisation and it really takes off from there :D. Also, in case you were wondering, I always imagined Joe as John as that bass player in The Black Heart ;). When it comes to Brian, it’s always been Machine Gun Kelly’s look as Tommy Lee in The Dirt. He is gonna play a big role in this story. So stay tuned!

(Credits to @geidiprimezs for the gif). Finally, I am sorry for all the grammatical/structure errors. Again, English is not my main language so I apologise for that. I always try to write more dialogue as a) it is easier to read; b) even when I love description I suck at it so I am sorry if you always find the same word/expression in every sentence. I always tend to write as to how the story is developed in my head in the first place. So, I am sorry. I am trying to get better at it, I promise. I cannot even express myself properly in my mother tongue. It is something I’ve struggled with since I was a child and it keeps getting worse due to my anxiety so bear with me on that one! 

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

PART 1

(I will do a master list and a playlist soon :D).

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

Disclaimer:

– Fem Reader is a twenty-one-year-old med student studying at the Imperial College London.

– Ben (Six) is a twenty-eight-year-old billionaire.

The story takes place in 2019 but there are flashbacks to make the whole thing look more realistic.

Finally, the outfit that Ben is wearing to play the drums is the one on the gif (beanie included :P) and this is the reader’s:

Enjoy!

[Y/N POV]

Y/N AND ELLIE’S APARTMENT, LONDON. PRESENT DAY.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for something…” you say focusing all your attention to your laptop’s screen.

“Is this about that playboy boyfriend of yours again?”

“Ellie, I already told you that he is not my boyfriend. He was just being nice...”

“Playboy boyfriend or Prince Charming. It does not matter. All of them are basically the same. They act nice and then they trap you in their spider web to get in your pants.”

You roll your eyes and ignore her comment.

“He is like a ghost! It is like he’d just vanished!”

She makes her way to the couch and sits next to you with a cup of tea in her hand.

“Maybe he is not on social media. I mean… Six? What kind of name is that?”

You sigh as Ellie sees you scrolling down on Facebook desperately.

“If you’d like, we could always try and track him down… Perhaps if you ask some people in the pub…”

“I am not going back,” you affirm bluntly.

“Then, I don’t know how I could help you, love.”

You sigh again and turn your gaze towards her.

“It is okay. I just wanted to thank him properly for what he did.”

“Are you sure this man even exists?”

“Ellie…”

“Okay, okay. Just sayin’”

You sigh again for the third time and look back at the screen. You slam it down close and stand up.

“You know what? I had enough. I might pop up to the National Gallery for the new music bands exhibition. Are you coming?”

“I’d love to but I am helping Eric with his new project.”

“New project?”

“I’ll keep you updated as I don’t even know what I am doing myself. Knowing Eric though it might involve RuPaul and drags and stuff…”

You laugh and shake your head.

After spending so much time debating about your outfit, you finish getting ready and take the first train from your place to Charing Cross. When you get off and go out into the street, the square is full of people. On the one hand, tourists who do not stop taking pictures with their selfie sticks and, on the other, locals who return home after a long and hard day at work. You make your way to the main entrance and grab a map from the foyer area. The exhibition is huge so you decide to visit the rock section first.

NATIONAL GALLERY, LONDON. PRESENT DAY.

You are simply surprised by the amount of memorabilia. The gallery shows the history of the biggest names in music: AC/DC, David Bowie, Iggy Pop, The Rolling Stones, Mötley Crüe, Led Zeppelin… The collection also includes handwritten song lyrics, costumes worn during performances, studio equipment, promotional material, and singles. One of the spaces is beautifully dedicated to Queen and your eyes end up admiring various musical instruments; from John Deacon's bass guitar and a replica of Brian May's synthesizer to Roger Taylor's drum set.

Suddenly, you look away and come across with a familiar face. Casual look and hands in his pockets. He is also looking at the drum set. He is so lost in it that he barely notices you. You smile and decide to approach him.

[Six POV]

“Hey… It’s you!”

You direct your gaze towards that voice and your heart skips a beat. You never thought you would see her again. You could barely see her features under the dim light of the pub left alone when you both talked in the street. Nevertheless, everything changes now and you seem… speechless?

Wake up, you stupid asshole! “I just saw you admiring Rog’s set and thought that it’d be nice to say “hi”, Six right?”

She holds out her hand for you to shake. You eventually do.

“That’s thoughtful of you… Y/N?”

Of course, I remember your name…

She nods.

“Do you like music?”

“Who doesn’t?” Y/N smiles.

What a stupid question…

“I mean, the rock of the 70s and 80s…”

“Are you kidding? It was the best music! It still is… I think everything started with The Beatles back in the 60s though…”

You look at her with interest. You are surprised by her taste in music and want to know more.

“What is your favourite band?”

I cannot believe I am asking her these childish questions…

“Joy Division, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Queen… That’s why I decided to come to the exhibition today. They have done a great job so far.”

“Are you a Queen fan?!”

“Of course! I might have the biggest crush on Roger Taylor…”

I…like…you…

“All the girls do. I mean, he is alright…” 

“Alright? Have you seen him in the 70s? He is literally gorgeous! Like a Renaissance painting.

You scoff and shake your hand at her obsession while running your tongue through your bottom lip.

“So… he’s alright…” Y/N repeats your words pointing at Roger’s set emphasising what you just said. “That’s why you were so lost in the kit!”

“No, I wasn’t!”

Liar…

“You look a little bit like him, to be honest…” Y/N smirks.

What…

She is approaching you now. She squints her eyes.

Too close…

“If only you had longer hair though…” her voice coming out like a whisper.

“What would you do?” 

“Hmmm?”

“If I had longer hair… What would you do?”

You see her parting her lips and hold your gaze. Your eyes like blazing fire. If looks could kill or do something else… “I wanted to thank you for what you did last night but… I couldn’t find you and…”

“Don’t even mention it. It was my pleasure.” you cut her off and quickly run your fingers through your hair.

“Right…”

You try to avoid looking at her directly in the eyes because of the effect she has on you; a kind of warm feeling going down your spine, You don’t really know what it means but it kinds of scare you.

"Oi Six!" Suddenly, you see a tall man approaching and giving you a small pat on the back. You cannot help but return it with a big smile.

"Hey, what's up man?!"

"Brian, mate, how are you doing? Long time no see!"

“Good, I have not seen you in a while!”

“I have been busy…” You frown and sigh.

“I went to The Black Heart and Bobby told me that you would be here. Playing tonight?”

“Yeah. Hopefully, I’ll be able to make it by nine.”

“Great!”

Brian turns around and sees Y/N standing in an awkward position.

“Who’s this? New friend?”

You start feeling the tension built in the pit of your stomach. You clench your jaw.

“Sorry! That was rude of me. I am Brian.”

“Not at all! is it Brian for Brian May?”

“Wow! I like her.”

You cannot help but glare at him.

Watch it, mate…

“Unfortunately, I am not May but if you say so, I’ll take it,” he winks at Y/N.

“My name is Y/N by the way,” she holds her hand out again.

“Are you a Queen fan?”

“I certainly am.”

“Then you should come to The Black Heart tonight. Our friend Six here is gonna play. He is obsessed with Roger Taylor. He is his muse!

“Really?”

Y/N’s face lights up but you cannot tell whether is of surprise or emotion. She squints her eyes.

“The Black Heart…”

“Do you know it?” Brian asks in surprise.

“We actually met there…” you cut him off.

“Oh great! Everything settled then.”

“Brian…” you warned him.

“Are you playing too?” Y/N shows some interest.

“I’ll be there with some friends but I am not playing tonight.”

You can see the doubt in her eyes and you intervene before it gets worse.

“I am sure she’s got plans anyways, Bri.”

“Actually, I’d like to come!”

Fuck…

You curse and roll your eyes at the stupid situation. That pain in the chest again.

“Great! See ya both there then.”

[Y/N POV]

You definitely don’t want to return to the pub but there was something dragging you back there. It was probably the fact that you were very curious about watching Six play live. For some reason, you could not picture him behind a drum set and you were still mad at him for lying to you. On the other hand, it’d be nice to see him fail. 

You made sure you were properly dressed this time. You did not want to get into any more trouble so you opt for a pair of fitted jeans, a nice top, high heels boots, and a black leather jacket.

Summer was about to start but it does not make any difference when you are leaving in London anyway. Ellie is not at home anymore so you finish cleaning, lock up, and make your way to the pub.

THE BLACK HEART, LONDON. PRESENT DAY.

[SIX POV]

“What time is your girlfriend coming?”

The boys are setting up and getting ready for the big night. The pub is already full of people chatting and having a nice time. 

“I already told you that she is not my girlfriend, Brian.”

“Well, she is hot…”

“She is a kid.”

“I mean, if you don’t like her…”

You drop one of the mics and turn around with an angry look in your face.

“Don’t even think about it!” you growl. Your friend laugh.

“That’s what I thought, mate…”

You scoff and shake your head.

“Just make sure that you never play “I am in love with my car” in front of her or she will run away.”

“Oh, shut up!”

THE BLACK HEART (20:45 pm)

(”Princess of China” by Coldplay is playing)

[Y/N POV]

You arrive at the pub and it is already packed. You sigh and enter into an anxious mode. You simply couldn’t help but think of what happened the night before. Somehow, you manage to brush those thoughts off and get to the counter. This time, Ellie is not here with you so you have your ID ready in case they ask for it.

“What would you like lovely?”

“Just a coke, please.”

The bartender leaves and comes back with a glass full of the beverage and ice a few seconds later.

“There you are, sweetheart…”

“Thank you!”

You reach for your purse when you see the man shaking his head.

“It’s on the house…”

“Really? Thanks!”

The man nods and continues serving. You grab your drink and take it to your lips while observing the place again. You spot the empty stage in the distance including the drum set.

Where are you?

Suddenly, you hear a screeching noise coming from one of the microphones. It’s Brian!

“Night everyone! Some of you might already know me,” he says adjusting the mic to his height. “I am Bri. I was not planning on playing tonight but there has been a change of plans.”

Some people star clapping as he lifts his guitar up. You smile and take another swig from your coke with enthusiasm.  “I’d like to introduce you to some people. This is John our bass player. And before someone makes the joke, no, we are not Queen.”

Many people start laughing.

“Finally, our special member, Six, on the drums…”

“Six, we love you!” You could see a couple of girls whispering and cheering about the drummer. You roll your eyes. So predictable…

“Sorry, ladies but Six will be just hitting on the drums tonight, I am afraid…”

You are thankful for Bri’s intervention and smile shyly to yourself shaking your head with amusement at the same time.

Six is sat behind the set of drums with a smug look on his face. He is finishing getting ready and checking on his equipment. He takes a swig of water and some drops stained his t-shirt. If he is nervous he knows very well how to hide it.

“We are gonna do some covers tonight,” Brian continues“… and we also have a surprise by the end of the night. So bear with us and we hope that you are all not to pissed to miss it.”

More laughs.

The list of covers is long but good; from “A Message” by Coldplay to “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by The Beatles.

“And now… our final song…”

This catches your attention even more and all the pub goes quiet.

“…for a friend who’s currently in the room…” Brian puts on his visor and finally spots you.

“Y/N! there you are!”

Suddenly, a spotlight points directly in your direction and you have to cover your eyes due to the bright light. Everybody is staring at you and you start panicking. You freeze in your stool and feel a heat sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Oh no…

“Y/N loves Queen so we could not say goodbye without playing a song by the band itself. We will do the chorus and Six here will do the rest. “This is Crazy Little Thing Called Love”, everybody! Y/N we hope you like it…

When they finish, they are cheered by everyone and quickly get off the stage. You see Six approaching you and start playing with your straw while pretending to be drinking from your third coke of the night.

“Hey…”

“Hey…” you sigh.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

Six makes a sign to the bartender for what you assumed was a beer but he immediately directs his green eyes right back at you.

“Yeah, I mean, it was alright…” He raises an eyebrow and a smile begins to form at the corner of your lips. He shakes his head.

“Just alright?”

“Hmmm, I’d say meh.”

You wrinkle your nose in uncertainty and Six observes you with a funny look on his face.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“I don’t drink…”

“Right…”

“But I will have one last coke. I will probably not sleep tonight with that much caffeine in my body though. I also feel that I should be paying for this,” you lift up your glass.

“It’s okay. I told Bobby that you are my host tonight. You can have anything you like. It is on me really…”

You frown and smile.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t even mention it.”

He grabs his pint and takes a big swig of it.

“I didn’t know you could play that well.”

“How could you know anyway?”

Rude.

“I truly enjoyed it, honestly.”

“I thought you said it was alright…”

“You were though…”

“Me?!”

You try to contain your laughter.

“Did you even see how I was banging those drums, love?”

Love…

“I know better…”

You could tell that he is offended.

Touché.

“What the f…”

“Roger Taylor is better than you!”

“Well, Roger fucking Taylor wished he could be me.”

Six scoffs and takes another large swig of his beer trying to hide behind his cruel words. You know he did not mean them. He adores Roger…

“Tommy Lee…”

“A total wanker!”

“Not true.”

“Well, he makes decent music. Not my style though.”

Six’s cockiness is back. A defence weapon. 

“He does the real spinning…”

“I can do that too.”

“Sure…”

“I could show you if you let me…” he grins at you.

He leans into you and his big green eyes start taking everything of you in. His warm breath fanning over your face. That feeling in the pit of your stomach, again.

What is wrong with you Y/N?

Tag List: @bjhardy  @pizzaplanets @mrbenhardys @bens-hardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod  @benhvrdys @closertothesunwhenimwithyou @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @calumfornicationx @poteda @hergewi @tanya-is-dead @imthewintergirl @rogerina-taylorr @sara-1705  @jessevans

[angelkurenai]

A supernatural marvel - Dean Winchester x Reader x Steve Rogers

Title: A supernatural Marvel

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Set in season 13 and Post Avengers: Infinity War, No Infinity War spoilers 

Word Count: 7,111

Summary: Imagine being transported in the Supernatural universe, with no memory of your life, where you become a hunter and fall in love with Dean. Only for a very important person from your past to come looking for you and change it all.

“This is a whole new of weird, that's all I can say.”

“We'll find something. There must be a connection.” the younger Winchester sighed.

“Still, doesn't explain any of it, Sam. Demons after an orange glowing rock? For what reason to begin with?” the older Winchester scoffed, flipping through another page that he wasn't really paying attention to but pretended to read for the heck of it.

“I don't know Dean, honestly I don't know. We've been through almost every book in the bunker. If there is a solution then it should be in one of these books at least.” he shrugged, motioning to the books around them and taking a large sip of his own coffee as Dean shook his head with a groan.

“Days like this I really start to miss Crowley.” he mumbled “How's it going over there kid?” he asked, looking at Jack who just looked like he had all the energy in the world to go through all of the books in the bunker from the beginning.

“Great!” the nephilim perked up “I never knew just how many different realities can be out there, it's amazing! And all the ways to accessing them, you could never believe that! There is this one, a man of letters has been there, and he wrote it all in his journal. It was back, during World War II. There he joined a group of scientists and he witnessed the discovery of-of the Tesseract. He described it as a cube of great power, “Infinite power”-” the Winchesters shared a look.

And Jack continued “Infinite power, so big that it could wipe out the planet, glowing with a power never seen by man before and he didn't think it was from Earth either. He didn't speak about other universes though so I am suspecting space? Something- something about it was familiar to uh gama radiation? I don't know what that means, but he points out it emitted a low amount that they could barely trace. However, he mentionsthat it fell into the wrong hands, meant to be used as a weapon, an organization called-”

“Jack?” Dean raised a hand to stop the rambling boy “Look, that's good and exciting and all, but we're looking for something more important here, kid, so if you could focus on that it would be... nice?”

“Oh, oh... yes of course. I- I understand. I'm sorry, I just...” he trailed off, looking down at the page in front of him “Captain America did so many amazing and brave things in that time, it is very inspiring.” a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Captain who?” Sam frowned and the grin returned on the young boy's face.

“Captain America.” he said with such pride it light up his entire face “He lived during World War II, when the Tesseract was first seen by the man of letters I spoke about. In fact, he had met Steve Rogers in person - that is his real name - during a fight in-”

“Alright, yeah I get it.” Dean cut him off gently “You got yourself a man-crush, that's great but uh Jack how about you take a break huh buddy? Think all these books might have done a number on you. Go contact Cas in case he has any news?”

“I- I'll- Yeah of course.” he seemed reluctant to let go of the journal he had been reading but did so inevitably and picked a phone to call the other angel.

With a sigh Dean picked up the journal, taking the look on the first page at th photo of the man that it belonged to, flipping through the pages and with a simple look at the drawing next to the text he rolled his eyes and closed it “Heros and shields with stars on them. These men of letters had more imagination than I thought.” and he put it back in pile with the rest of the books they'd read.

“Yeah, well to some people, monsters are just as much of fiction as those can be to us.” Sam mumbled, not looking up from his book.

“Yeah, wish these books really were just a nightmare right now and I'd wake up any minute.” Dean grumbled “I mean for all we know, it could not be our kind of thing in the first place.”

“Demons killing innocent people to get to a, I remind you Castiel's words, unparalleled source of power. Yes, Dean of course it isn't, how stupid of me to think something like that!” he gave his brother a bitch face that only earned another groan and soon a pout as Dean rested his chin on his hand. If there was one big thing he could gladly change about hunting was the researching part, especially when they had a whole bunker full of books to go through.

“Whatever, you know what I mean.” he muttered, both of them knowing he was just looking for an excuse out of all of it. And maybe he found it.

“Mornin'.” you mumbled with a small yawn, rubbing your eyes sleepily with an adorably beautiful smile – at least to him – as you walked in the map room.

“Morning, sweetheart.” he grinned, leaning back in his chair as he admired, for longer than appropriate, the way his slightly unbuttoned flannel fell over your shoulder “How did ya sleep?”

“Great” you breathed out with a cute smile, padding bare foot towards him “Think I might be actually addicted to you and your bed, D. I have never slept for this many hours before, or this good.” you gave him a shy smile but he only felt his cheeks hurt from how widely he was smiling.

“Can't say it's not nice to hear you say it, princess.” he winked.

“All good in Dean's bed then?” Sam asked softly, grinning mostly because of the glare he got from the older Winchester.

Sure, it had been a relief to say at least to Sam how he felt for you when he's been on the brink of losing you but now he really regretted it. Because, and he should have seen this coming, the younger Winchester did his best to push Dean into confessing the truth about his feeling for you to you. But that didn't mean Dean was anywhere near ready, despite how easy Sam insisted it was. It wasn't as if he forgot how to breathe whenever you looked at him with those big (y/e/c) eyes that made his heart skip a beat but... yeah he totally forgot how to breathe. He still remembered the first, and only, time he had tried to ask you out; because of how he had choked on thin air and rambled nonsense he still didn't remember before practically running away from you. The only good thing coming out of that was your adorable giggle when you comforted him about it, although you didn't understand it.

“No weird dreams or nightmares this time, it feels like it's been forever.” you breathed out, bringing him back to reality “So hell yeah, it's amazing. And all of that thanks to Dean.”

“'M glad to hear.” he breathed out, completely ignoring the raised eyebrow he got from his brother.

“Good to know, because you ain't getting rid of me anytime soon. Especially with how much I love my new pillow.” you grinned, leaning down to kiss his cheek and he squeezed your hand that had sneaked on his chest.

“Your pillow is certainly not complaining.” he smirked, kissing your cheek almost in a reflex and without realizing it. It had become a habit anymore but as he let go of you and looked at his brother he realized it when he got that knowing smirk.

“But how could you possibly know that?” Jack's voice was heard as he came back, a frown planted on his face and a tilt of his head there too “Pillows are... they do not speak, they're objects, how could you know it is not complaining?”

“Yeah, how could she know that Dean?” Sam snickered as with a huff, Dean grabbed a light book at least and threw it at his brother, who effectively dodged it.

“You know what, Sam?” he glared at his brother, but your soft laugh managed to calm him down.

“I'm speaking metaphorically, Jack. Dean was my pillow last night, his chest to be more specific, that is all.” you explained to the young man.

“But... but why would you sleep together? I know so far that couples do that.” he blinked, approaching you to take his previous seat “Unless...” he trailed, eyes narrowing until he broke a grin when he looked at Sam “Did Dean finally admit how he feel-” he started but got cut off by Dean's loud coughing, good timing with drinking his coffee, as Sam snickered and you raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“No, uh Jack no-” Sam tried to clear his throat, glancing at his brother “Not... really.”

Your lips parted, ready to question him but decided against it and patted Dean on the back “You'll live?” you asked softly and he gave you a forced smile.

“Oh yeah, I definitely will.” he cleared his throat, looking between his brother and the nephilim “Someone else might not, though. If he doesn't keep his mouth shut.” he glared at them as Jack shifted nervously in his seat.

“Shut about what?” you asked with a small smirk and he blinked, looking up at you with a frown.

“Uh nothing to worry yourself about, sweetheart.” he said with the most casual smirk he could master and a wink just to distract you. And oh did it work.

You hummed, stealing his mug from his hand and taking a large sip “You're so lucky I'm sleepy.”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes again before sitting on his lap. Dean didn't blink, merely smiled to himself because of how much at home it felt for him to have you close to him and because this was a new habit for the two of you that others had not seen yet. He didn't even miss a split second to open his arms and let you cuddle on his chest, helping you bring your legs up and rest your head on the crook of his neck and making sure to send a warning look to his brother before he had the chance to question it.

“Is that... something friends do too?” Jack leaned in closer to Sam to whisper but it wasn't as low as he'd expect.

“Yes, yes they do.” Dean said in a rough voice, giving him a look that made him nod weakly and scoot back in his seat “Did you make that call?”

“I... yes, but he didn't answer so I left a message.” he replied.

“Maybe we should try mom?” Sam suggested and Dean gave him a slow nod, although truth was that his mind was more focused on you sleepily drinking his coffee – he couldn't bring himself to ask back for it – all cuddly and all around beautiful in his eyes with your messy hair and even more his flannel that he couldn't bring himself to fix.

“What are ya guys up to?” you asked, a little more awake this time “And what are all these books for?”

“Uh yeah we didn't inform you about it, but we got a lead on that case with the demons and we're trying to find a connection now.” Sam said and you hummed, handing Dean his coffee back but he shook his head because – and as bad he needed it – he simply couldn't take it when he saw how much you wanted it too.

“And who's our lead?” you placed the mug on the table, a small giggle slipped past your lips when Dean held your sides for support, the moment you reached out for one of the books out of the pile. What none of you noticed was that it just happened to be the journal Jack was holding in his hands minutes ago.

“Ticklish much?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow and you hit his chest giving him a look.

“Don't you even think about it.” you warned, although you knew very well he already had and would gladly use it to his advantage. And would you both love the hell out of it, even if you wouldn't admit it.

“What.” Sam corrected, gaining your attention “Uh a stone, a gem of sorts. Orange, glowing, great power although we don't know about what exactly. They used it to gather all those souls from heaven which Cas said went missing two days ago. My best guess is that it could be something similar to the Seal of Solomon that we have, but we're jut looking.”

“Orange glowing stones huh? What's next, men flying in suits of armor?” you scoffed, shaking your head with a smile as you skipped through the pages without reading a word, only paying attention to the drawings or designs here and there “So, what do we have so far? Anything on what it could be or at least where from?”

“Hard to tell.” Dean mumbled, practically forcing himself to focus on the book in his one hand and not the girl on his lap. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms completely around you and smother you with love... but that would probably earn a couple of looks from his brother for sure.

“Hm” you hummed, stopping for a moment when you took notice of a sketch. It probably shouldn't have struck so much to you, because what was so special about a geometric cube in a journal of a scientist and all kinds of scientific data below? Yet there was something that made you stop. And despite the fact that it was only a couple lines, for a moment your eyes could see it in front of you, glowing an icy blue that made goosebumps form on your skin and for a moment you actually felt so cold as you traced your fingers over the lines of the cube floating in the air, not paying attention to the darkness enveloping everything else around you until-

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Dean said when you jumped at the loud sound the book he threw to the side made.

“'S ok.” you blinked, being brought back to reality and you rubbed your eyes tiredly “So-” you cleared your throat “Not even an idea, judging from what you've read, at least?”

“Well, we were really thinking-” Sam started mumbling, eyes focused on the book in his hands.

“Space!” Jack cut him off before he could complete his sentence and all three of you looked up from your books at him.

“Space?” you asked with a giggle and the young man nodded his head eagerly.

“Yes, space, like the Tesseract! Like he described it to be!” he pointed at the journal you were holding “The Men of letters were very smart men, and he was one of the brightest scientists of his era. If he said that it was from space, then he's probably right!”

“Alright, first-” Dean spoke up “He implied, not said. And he said it about a glowing cube, not our magical stone. And second; Jack, the Men of letters are always a fucked up situation. Most of them were smart but also pretty off their rockers. We can't trust a- a diary of- of a dude that liked to draw rainbows anywhere he liked to.”

“You know him?” Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean took a look at the inside of the cover of the journal and nodded his head.

“Spotted a couple of his books around here, don't know where I threw them away. Look, point is he had clearly lost it after that trip to the other universe, if that ever happened, so we need to trust facts and not-”

“You're a man of letters, though.” you pointed out with a smirk, getting up from his lap.

“I'm-” he narrowed his eyes at you as you laughed with a shrug “And you're a woman of letters, ok?” he retorted and Sam only rolled his eyes at your childish behavior.

“Yeah, but all the women of letters I've read about were badass as hell!” you shrugged, handing Jack the journal as he eagerly started flipping through the pages.

“Like Peggy Carter!” he said with a boyish grin and you nodded your head with a proud smile, hands on your hips.

“Exactly, like Peggy- Wait, who's Peggy? I haven't read about her.” you frowned.

“Oh she was in this other universe I was talking about. He met her there, she wasn't really a woman of letters because I don't think there was such an organization, but he refered to her as that many times. He gave her that title because of how brave she had been!” he said, looking between you and the journal in his hands and constantly flipping pages looking for something you didn't know “And of course, for the way she too fought alongside Captain America.”

“...Who?” this time the words came breathlessly from your lips as you felt all air get knocked out of your lungs. Your heart made a painful leap to your throat and your heart twisted nervously. Your blood almost ran cold yet there was a familiar kind of warmth spreading through your chest, one you felt only with Dean, that confused you and made you more dizzy than you had been all these days whatsoever. But, even despite the shivers that ran down your spine, you felt more scared because you didn't know why you felt all of these oddly familiar emotions at the mere mention of-

“Steve Rogers.” Dean spoke, making your eyes snap to him “Yeah, yeah we get it. But kid, we have no proof that he was real and even if he was, what kind of connection would a dead guy have to our story? Because he'd have to be a good over 90 now.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Dean's probably right.” Sam shrugged “The glowing, “Infinite” power thing could be a connection but we're looking at things belonging in totally different universes here. And it's all far too big even for us, or those demons. Why not stay more focused, yeah?”

“Exactly. Plus, the colors don't match to begin with.” Dean said with a smirk.

“I'm-” your breathing had become shallow and heavy, as if your lungs actually struggled to breathe “I'll...” you tried to swallow the lump in your throat “I better go change, in case we need to jump into action very soon.” you forced a smile that was barely visible before with shaky legs you left the boys frowning in worry as they watched you leave in a hurry for a couple seconds.

“Did she really... not have any nightmares this time?” Sam asked softly and Dean pursed his lips, sighing heavily.

“No, Sammy. No she didn't. And I barely slept myself to make sure she didn't. She hasn't had any dreams for a couple days... at least that's what she's told me.”

“And... are you sure she has been honest?” Jack asked with a frown and Dean clenched his jaw, looking down at his hands.

“There was a time I would never doubt her honesty but now... I think there is something about these dreams that she doesn't want to talk about. And I'm scared she doesn't know why even herself.” he shook his head, pushing his chair back “I'll be right back.”

He got a nod from his brother who, much like Jack looked down at his books in quiecy until... a grin spread on Jack's lips when he finally found what he was looking for and breathed out “They do match.”

~*~

A soft knock on the door made you jump in your place, blink rapidly as if you were brought back from a hazy dream and look up from the small paper in your hands. Your heart leapt to your throat and you rushed to fold it and put it along with the rest of them inside your journal before hiding it underneath your clothes in a drawer. Before you even had the chance to speak up the door was slightly pushed open.

“Hey, it's me.” Dean's soft smile was the first thing you noticed but you only gave him a nervous one in response.

“H-hey” you breathed out, you tried to give him a smirk to not let him notice how nervous you were “I didn't say you could come in though, did I? I could be naked for all you know.” you placed your hands on your hips, feeling successful when a chuckle left his lips.

“Yeah but you're not. Shame, if you ask me, 'cause I was kinda hopin' I would be lucky today.” he winked at you, striding casually towards you and a soft laugh escaped your lips.

“Right, because the last time you nearly walked in on me wasn't enough of a sneak peek for you, huh Winchester?” you raised an eyebrow.

“But I saw nothing! You threw a freaking book at me that was over a thousand pages big, and I had to dodge it in order toprotect my life!” he exclaimed and you laughed at the fond memory.

“And that is a reminder as to why you should never startle me, D!” you actually felt the weight that had been resting on your chest, lift and you to feel more at ease.

“Damn” he breathed out, biting his lower lip to keep himself from smiling but he just ended up giving you a boyish grin that made him look so much younger “I love it when you call me that.”

“Really?” you whispered, ignoring how your cheeks were burning “You never told me that.” your heart skipped a beat when he shrugged with a nervous chuckle.

“Didn't get the chance to, before.” he started “Especially when you're threatening my life with the stuff you read. But, speaking about chances-” he cleared his throat, getting a little more serious “We didn't get the opportunity to talk about your dreams lately, especially last night.”

“There's not really something to talk about there, Dean.” you shook your head, but avoided eye-contact.

“Are you sure about that? 'Cause, princess, I ain't that convinced with the way you acted five minutes ago, you know.”

“That was just a blink, Dean. Nothing you should-” you turned around, ready to walk away from him but he took hold of your arm to stop you before you could avoid him. And turning your head to face him you felt yourself going weak.

“It just did something.” you confessed in a low voice, eyes casting down “The things Jack said, somehow, for some reason and in some way they- they did something to me that I can't explain. I've been feeling things I couldn't explain a-and it scares me because I just don't know where they're all coming from.”

“Feelings?” he moved to stand in front of you, eyes intense “But no more recent dreams?”

“I... No. No there haven't been any, not that if I'd had any they would make any sense. Things have been getting very confusing lately.” you huffed, sitting down on your bed and he didn't miss a beat to do the same while keeping a close proximity “Sometimes there are headaches when I wake up, strong ones.”

“You didn't have headaches when they first started.” he noted with a deep frown and you nodded your head slowly.

“No, no I didn't. I've had them ever since I could remember myself and- and I've always tried to justify them.” you shrugged softly “My dreams have never happened often, and they were confusing as most dreams are. I shouldn't have a reason to worry, especially in this life. We deal with all tons of crap, it should make sense...”

“But they don't. Not anymore huh?” he clenched his jaw, frowning in worry.

“Dean, last week I... I could remember some things the times I had a headache. Much more than usual.” you breathed out the small confession “Again, not that they made sense but I remember and... feel. It seems like a blur when I think aboutit sometimes, there was a fight. A big one but- but I couldn't understand where. There was green, lots of it, somewhere a forest too that it looked like Earth but the weapons they used... it just doesn't click. It felt like it was something out of science fiction and the enemy... or at least it seemed like it was the enemy, remember- remember that movie we saw two days ago? Aliens? Yeah, well, even worse. I- I can't explain it but I get cold spots whenever I think about it and I just can't-” you choked on a sob, your eyes fluttering shut as Dean's arms instantly found you.

“Hey” his voice was rough yet very gentle as he let you rest your head on his shoulder “Don't stress yourself out, okay? If-if it makes you feel uncomfortable or scared then that's alright, it happens to everyone when they have nightmares, but even if it's not like that then... know everything will be alright, know that I'm here for you anytime it happens again.”

“It just makes me feel so empty... so scared, in a way as if there's something missing.” you whimpered softly, your breathing uneven “I don't know what's going on but I know they are not just dreams, D.”

“Then we'll figure it out, sweetheart. Together.” he kissed the top of your head, squeezing your hand as he played with your fingers to calm you down, nearly lacing them with his.

“Together.” you whispered, without letting the truth slip from your lips once more.

Without saying who was fighting against the monsters of your dreams and who you were fighting alongside.

~*~

“Are you sure this is the right place, guys?” you asked softly, exiting the car and looking around nervously.

“That's what mom's text says.” Sam mumbled, looking around with a frown himself.

“And I ask again, are we sure this is our kind of thing?” Dean asked, gaining an eye-roll from his brother “Come on, man, since when do demons hang out in empty train stations?” he threw his arms in he air before getting his gun out.

“I don't know but we're about to figure it out.” Sam muttered.

“Even if there are no people around, this is a public place. Doesn't seem like somewhere you'd find a bunch of demons playing around with a glowing stone and quite honestly I...” you trailed off, getting a concerned look from Dean that made you confess “I've got a bad feeling about this.” you ended up whispering, wrapping your hands tightly around your gun.

“Stay close and stay behind.” Dean motioned, giving you a firm yet comforting look and you nodded weakly, standing next to Jack. You weren't really in good shape these days, anyway.

“It's going to be alright, don't worry. I feel like everything will work out the way it should.” the younger man said with a hopeful smile “Captain America was one time on top of a train that was going miles per hour and on top of that, it was somewhere in the mountains, it was snowing so heavily and that alone could make things much harder. He was with his best friend, Bucky they called him, and they were after-”

“Hey you-” Dean turned around, pointing the flashlight you didn't even realize he was holding straight in your faces “Fanboying time's over. We've got work to do, focus. You can talk about Captain douchebag later, got it?”

“Oh right. Sorry.” Jack nodded his head softly.

“You know...” you started in a small whisper, glancing occasionally at Dean to make sure you didn't have his attention again “When we're over with this, maybe you could get to tell me more about... Captain America... everything you know about Steve Rogers.” the name felt strange coming from your lips, but not because it was the first time. It felt sweet and with a hint of pain, that came out without you even realizing it, without you even being able to control it. And it felt so strange because of the uneasiness you felt at how... familiar it felt, at how comforting it was and how it warmed your heart to say it. And that scared you even more. How could a stranger, a man from another universe and even more one you didn't even know if he existed or not, make you feel this way? It spiked your curiosity, it made you nervous, but above all it made you want to know more. Not about your feelings. But about him.

“Sure, I could-” Jack started but he got cut off by a loud crushing sound followed by grunting, but they got on their feet as the demons appeared.

“Well, if it isn't the Winchesters sticking their nose in our business. Color me fucking impressed.” one of them said with a roll of his eyes “What is it boys? You getting more involved with things from other realities lately, or something? Are you planning for Apocalypse take 3 this time? Sorry, someone already beat you at it.”

“Nah we're just taking pleasure in kicking your asses and ruining your plans is all.” you said with an annoyed smirk, gaining his attention and making a bigger grin form on his lips.

“Ah yes, (Y/n). Of course you'd be here too, always finding your way back to it, don't you? It's truly amazing, such connection cannot be described by words it's simply... beautiful!” he grinned but you could only frown at the scary feeling that rose up your chest.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean growled, taking a protective step to stand in front of you.

“Oh you'd like to know, wouldn't you? Would you be able to take the whole truth is the important question here, though, Dean. You're so used to fighting monsters like us you don't see... how much worse there is out there, far away yet so close. You'll get your answer soon, not in the good way and not from me of course.”

“I'm not so sure about that.” Dean said with a smirk of his own, glancing at Jack and gave him a nod before the nephilimtook a step forward, his eyes glowing the familiar, and lately very comforting for you, yellow.It all was familiar. It all was almost a routine anymore.

It all seemed simple... Yet it wasn't. You thought this would end like any other case and you'd end up killing the monster with Jack's help, easy and fast. But this was nothing like any other case.

A gasp left your lips when you saw a sharp object, silver and weird-looking, appear right through his chest. And even if you knew it couldn't hurt him you got scared when a small groan left his lips and he stumbled, his knees going weak; maybe affecting him more than he realized. He looked down in confusion, frowning as he got lifted off his feet slightly by the person holding the weapon.

“Jack!” you screamed as the young man got thrown to the side.

“What the... hell?” Dean breathed out with wide eyes as all three of you were frozen in your place. As much as you wanted to rush to Jack's side you were stuck in your place in fear at what stood before you. A monster you had never seen before in all your time of hunting and research. It looked almost out of this world, towering above the three of you. Its features were something you could barely find the words to describe, but one thing was for sure: the way it looked at you, the way it snarled and growled at you made fear set deep inside within you... for more reasons than you could explain. It took a swing at you, making you all jump to dodge it. It walked towards you and despite you crawling back, you couldn't get far away. When it lifted its weapon to stab you, your eyes widened and you braced yourself for the inevitable but it never came because Jack used his powers to throw him away from you, Dean and Sam quickly getting on their feet to fight that thing back as long as they had the advantage.

“Stay close to Jack!” you heard Dean yell as they passed by you; and despite everything feeling like it happened in a blur, you did as told but not for your own safety. Jack's breathing had become heavier and you feared that it might have had a bigger impact on him than you initially expected. So as much as you wanted to be able to help Sam and Dean, you couldn't... and not just because you were trying to help Jack.

“Now this time, I will be sure to not make the same mistakes.” was what sounded like a female voice but what came to stand before you was by no means human. You looked up at her with wide eyes, her as well brining no similarity to the monsters you'd faced and as much of an alien but with some human features two. She was different, with two horns standing out, and red eyes that made you hold your breath. You gripped an angel blade tighter in your hands and braced yourself with each step she took closer to you until... she didn't anymore.

She paused, looking away from you with a frown setting on her features. You looked behind you, Jack doing the same, only seeing the blur of the train passing by and feeling the slight breeze until it left and... a shadow stood in the background, a shadow that wasn't there before. She clenched her jaw, throwing her spear at her enemy who effectively caught it before it could get at them. You frowned for a second until the person decided to step out of the shadows and you felt your heart jump to your throat.

Broad shoulders, chest and big, firm arms. Tall figure, covered in what looked like a very worn out suit. Long hair, not very much so, longer than Dean's but definitely shorter than Sam's, a dirty blonde color and pushed back to leave his beautiful features at display, or at least most of them. Deep frown on his face and baby blue eyes that you were sure could make any woman's heart skip a beat. A beard that covered most of his face, simply looking perfect on him, and full lips pursed as he glared in a deadly way at the female that had just threatened you. You squinted, trying to see more of him because the distance and dim lighting wasn't helping; confusing even yourself when you couldn't find some sort of excuse for this newfound curiosity and attraction especially in such a situation.

Before you could even realize it a fight went down, everything getting worse without you being able to do a thing... mostly because you weren't needed to. It only felt like you saw a flash of blonde when you heard's Dean groan loudly, soon followed by something that you could swear was a someone, flying surprisingly so. It was only when you heard his voice that you realized he was human “How many times do we have to kill these guys?!” before he kicked her away from you, sending her crashing into a shop's window nearby, and following afterwards.

“Just make sure this is the last one!” then you heard his voice and if you weren't feeling weird enough already, the emotions that rose up in your chest made you so much more confused. So despite everything around you looking like a warzone, despite all the fighting and things being broken your eyes were glued on the man that had taken your breath away. You tried to see as much of him as possible, including his skills.

It was only until the woman of the team got kicked hard and thrown across the room, laying only a few feet away from you that you tore your eyes away from the man and looked at her; taking your flannel to press it on Jack's chest and whispering hastily to him “Keep the pressure on, I'll be right back, ok?”

“Hey, hey easy. That angle on your leg doesn't seem normal.” you could swear you said in a soft and as gentle as possible voice but she jumped in her place as if electricity had shot through her. She turned around faster than you could even comprehend and crawled backwards in utter cold shock. Her eyes widened and you could swear you saw them get glossy, but you didn't have the time to question her when-

“Natasha watch out!” you heard a voice yell and you saw the female alien hovering over you for a second, raising her spear and making your heart stop, before an angel blade pierced through her head, making her freeze and inevitably fall down dead just like her friend who was laying dead a few feet away.

“Well, that's just gross.” you breathed out with a small laugh of relief when you watched the blue blood drip from her head. But when you looked at the blonde woman, you were only met with red-rimmed eyes and a pale face as if she'd just seen a ghost, in a way that made you worry “H-Hey are you ok? I'm- I'm not with them, I promise, I just wanna help.” your eyes bore into hers but she just seemed frozen in place.

But she didn't have the chance to speak up because the man who was flying before, landed next to her “Nat, what the hell happened?” he helped her up on her feet and she put most of her weight on him “How did you-” but he too stopped mid-sentence when he followed her line of sight and spotted you and you noticed a gasp left his lips before he whispered in denial a weak “No”

“Is everything alright?” you whispered with a frown, their behavior but above all your headache getting stronger in your head putting you more on edge.

“You are-”

“(Y/n)?” Dean's frantic voice cut him off and the next thing you saw was his eyes directly in front of you, inspecting you for injuries, as his hands cradled your face in them. Sam rushed to Jack's aid but the third man – the one that still remained a mystery to you – walked more slowly towards the rest of you.

“Should we do something?” Sam asked in a hoarse voice and Natasha glanced at you, even with a blurry vision, and shook her head.

“We don't have time for that... He will have to face her. He will see her.”

“Nat, he- he can't see her. He can't- It's gonna break him. It will crush him, worse than-” but he stopped himself, shaking his head as he looked back at you with Dean.

“I'm ok, I'm ok. Don't worry.” you said softly, but the frown on your face did say otherwise. You could barely make out his features because of how blurry your vision was getting “Just my head... it's hurting a little bit, that's all.” you mumbled.

With a short nod he kissed your forehead and whispered “It's alright, it's alright now. You can rest.”

“You guys did great with them, it was- it was really astounding.” Sam breathed out, helping Jack back on his feet as they both came to stand next to you and Dean.

“We may have ganged countless monsters over the years but this was a whole new kind of crazy.” Dean looked at the aliens for a second, trying to swallow the lump in his throat over.

“Ye-yeah, no problem with that.” the man with the wings said in a somewhat hoarse voice,unable to take his eyes from you for a moment just like the woman next to him “I'm Sam, by the way, Sam Wilson and this is Natasha.”

“Natasha Romanoff.” she said, a soft subtle accent there too, her eyes watching you curiously – probably for some reaction – but as much as it intrigued you, you had someone else in mind.

“And... your friend there?” you asked softly, hesitation and curiosity slipping in your voice, as you watched merely a shadow of the other man as he inspected the aliens they had just fought before he decided to approach you all again.

“Oh that's-” Sam started, clearing his throat “That's actually...”

“Captain America.” it was Jack's voice that completed Sam's sentence, so much awe and admiration in both his voice and face as a wide grin slowly formed on his lips. Sam and Dean looked at him in confusion, giving him weird looks, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from said man who slowly stepped into the light, the close proximity this time allowing you to take in more of his features. Features that made your heart start beating faster inside your chest, in a way only Dean could make you feel, but you couldn't describe exactly why. The man's steps slowed down when he locked eyes with you and his frown was slowly replaced by a look of pure shock, eyebrows raising and lips falling apart. You couldn't understand why but you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him, watching as his eyes moved back and forth, trying to take in as much of you as possible.

“What are you talking about, Jack?” Dean asked the nephilim with a funny look.

“Look!” he pointed at the man “He even has the star, I mean... it's ripped out but the star should be there!” he said all excited, and even if you didn't look away you heard closely “It's him, Captain America! Steve Rogers.”

The name actual ringed in your ears, like an echo, making the headache even worse. Your head was spinning, your vision was getting blurry but you still found yourself able to focus on him and take a step closer to him and away from Dean. You didn't even know how your legs could still support you, but you sure heard him.

“(Y/n)?” he asked in a gruff voice and you felt shivers run down your spine and spread throughout your entire body, like small shots of electricity, before you spoke in a weak voice.

“I'm sorry, do I know you?”

~~~

Chapter 2

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 6

Thanks to @edream93 for her awesome playlists for WLTF. Even though she never intended for it, the songs for those CJ-centric chapters really inspired me to get into CJ’s confident mood for this ch. 

CJ clapped her hands triumphantly as she crawled out of the disgusting bag of trash she had hidden herself in and looked around.

Though she smelled nauseating and was covered with a foot of dirt and grime she felt as accomplished as she had when she set sail on the Auradon seas with her very own boat.

Too bad she couldn’t have used her boat to travel back to the Isle. She would have totally impressed everyone with her stylish ride that she had tricked out with ferocious skull sails and images of impalement and other pirate crimes decorating the walls of the Captain stern. She had wanted to but then she remembered that it would be impossible to get her ship past the Magical Barrier.

So she went with the less fabulous, but still deceptive disguise as a goblin to take trash from Auradon to the Isle.

Unfortunately her lack of green skin or any sort of ugly exterior appearance made the goblins suspicious of her presence among them so her last ditch effort was to hide among the trash.

And it worked!

CJ shook the moldy banana peel from her wavy hair and wiped off the sludge from her red pirate coat and laughed to herself. It was almost funny, after years of trying to get out of this forsaken place she had spent the last month sailing her way from Camelot to Auradon Prep in order to catch the last trash run to the Isle.

It hadn’t been part of her life plan. She had been having a grand old time on the high seas, looting and plundering from the too trusting goody goody tourists, getting riches and drinking life as well as beer when she had gotten spotted a letter in a bottle.

CJ loved letters in bottles, ever since she was a kid and her dad had told her that pirate used to put letters in bottles so that people may never find the directions to their treasure or put threatening notes to scare whoever found the bottle next.

Not that she had the chance to see many bottles near the Isle or send any out. Resources like paper were scarce and Dad tend to reuse bottles to fill them up with his beer.

So she took the bottle out of the sea and opened it up. She had expected a good chuckle over whatever vile threat the note had but was shocked to see it was actually addressed to her.

Hey CJ,

I know this is probably won’t get to you, but I gotta try, you know.

I guess yer dad hadn’t told you that he screwed with me and that I am your mother but I am. It had been bad night and instead of using his hook to slit my throat, it slipped down his pants and things kinda went from there.

Anyway I hear ya pilliging Auradon so that’s awesome. Give those Auradonians something to scream about, stab every last one of them and take all their fancies. Especially silver, silver sells well on the black market.

I’m writing because even though you probably don’t want to go back to this stupid place, I’m planning a raid on your da’s Jolly Roger. If you help me, it can be yours after I die or get murdered. You deserve it, you’re more of a pirate than your siblings will ever be.

Fine sailing matey,

Lady Caine

Lady Caine was her mother. 

At first she had been skeptical but then she realized why would Lady Caine have to gain from lying that she was her mother. No one on the Isle really knew who both their parents were and those who may have fathered r mothered them never said so because they didn’t care. So why would Lady Caine lie about being CJ’s mom? It wasn’t like she would have anything to gain from it. It wasn’t like CJ was going to blindly follow her or want a tearfully reunion from the women. She must have thought that now CJ was all grown up, she was capable enough to be a worthy ally. 

Besides having Lady Caine to be her bio mom wasn’t exactly disappointing.

Lady Caine was the self-proclaimed, “Queen of Thieves” and the only female pirate that was on the Isle so CJ secretly admired her despite dad’s deep hatred.

She was everything CJ ever wanted to be when she grew up, manipulative, self-centered, ruthless, and a “devil may care” attitude towards the few authorities that were present on the Isle.

And it turned out she was her mother.

And she was offering her a chance to inherit the Jolly Roger!

Though CJ loved the boat she currently had, the boat she had bought with her own stolen money, she wanted the Jolly Roger even more.

The Jolly Roger would be a sure sign of who was the finest and scariest pirate in the kingdom.

Not her siblings who had tried to use her as their own first mates instead of recognizing her fearsomeness. Not her dad who was far past his glory days.

Her.

She had always thought that Harriet would end up taking over dad’s ship being the oldest and the one who spent so much of her teenage years to maintaining it when Dad was too drunk or hungover to do it himself. She was the one who handled the members of Dad’s crew when they got out of line and was the one who made the dock the place not be at nighttime.

Harriet deserved the Jolly Roger, she had put so much effort.

But that would be doing the right thing and being a good person was never CJ’s priority.

That ship was going to be hers so she hiked the first current out of Camelot and now she was here. She had kept that letter safe in her coat pocket along with her trusty compass so she could get both at any time.

CJ decided to head to her old room first in order to pick up some of her belongings that she had left behind.

The streets were dark and empty which was usually the first sign that you were going to get jumped but minutes passed and CJ walked by, unassulted.

Now that she really looked around, it seemed no one was about. Lights were off and shutters binded. The place had become a real ghost town.

Maybe it was fight night at Gaston’s bar, that usually drew a large crowd.

Even though it was a dark tar black with no extra lights on, CJ was able to find her way to the Jolly Roger. She could find that place in her sleep. It was a point of pride for a pirate captain to find their ship wherever they went and the Jolly Rogers would be hers.

The old idiot, Smee was sleeping on guard duty. It was tempting for CJ to hit him around a little as her father would do if he saw Smee sleeping on the job like this but refrained, she would do it when she left.

The ship creaked and groaned under her weight but no one came to the upper dock to shout intruder so CJ continued below deck to her room.

The last room on the stern was hers as it was because she was the last and therefore insignificant as Harriet told her. The quarters were tight and now that she had grown a few inches she kept banging her head against the ceiling.

The place looked like it had been ransacked. The pirate maps she had drew when she was younger, the ones that showed the route she believed to go to Neverland were all torn up. Her few thin blankets were shredded to threads. Her small chest was splintered apart as if someone brought a mallet to it and the items she had stolen, one of Ursula’s shell necklaces, bullets from Rourke, fancy hats from Anastasia among others laid scattered on the floor.

“Ugh. No respect. No one has respect.” CJ muttered as she got on her hands and knees to search for what she really wanted, her telescope. She would need it in order to plan attacks on enemies from afar.

“Whose here?” A voice growled from behind her and CJ whirled around, fists ready to battle.

“CJ?” Harry stared at her slack-jawed as if he was seeing Davy Jones in the flesh and CJ relaxed her fists.

From the dim candle lantern in Harry’s hand, CJ could see that her brother hadn’t changed a bit. His face was smeared with grease paint and too much eyeshadow with his messy hair sometimes flopping over his eyes. Though he was sporting a new scar above his eyebrow. His clothes were still raggedy and torn but it also looked like they were hanging on his frame rather than highlighting his intimidating muscles. 

Before CJ could wonder about whether he was eating less, Harry thrust a hook under nose and demanded, “What are ye doing here?”

CJ decided to go for sass, pushing his hook away she snorted, “This is my room.”

“Not anymore.” Harry kicked her, “You live in Auradon now, brat.”

CJ bit her lip to keep from groaning as Harry’s foot connected with her gut and punched at his nuts causing him to jump back and slam himself against the door. She took the moment to grope under her bed for the feel of her telescope when at last she felt the cool glass.

She pulled it out from under her bed, slid it down her boot and casually stretched out her muscles as if Harry’s hostility didn’t faze her one bit. And it didn’t. She had dealt with his mood swings for years and though he usually didn’t get so physically rough, she was quite capable of holding on her own.

When she cocked her head to crack her neck bones, CJ was startled by the hatred in his glare for her and was even more startled by this strange feeling of pain tugging her heart.

Harry never looked at her that way before. Usually he looked at her with anger and annoyance, not hatred. After all, she was his baby sister, it was her job to compete with and annoy him to death.

Then again, she had been forgetting what his face looked like since she left, maybe her memory was just fuzzy. It wasn’t like their relationship was a solid, trusting one. Ha! None of her relationships were. Especially with her siblings.

CJ swore they hated each other from day one. Harriet despised that she was on “mom” duty at twelve years, having to clean and change their dirty diapers and they didn’t even pay her back by becoming her loyal first mate. Instead they were her worst enemy when it came to competing for control of the dock. 

Harry was a disgrace since he chose not to lead and follow Captain Hook’s fierce reputation but chose to be subservient to another Vk and be a loyal member of a crew. 

CJ hated them both for always underestimating her and taking away her attention and resources so no one on the Isle feared her, they saw her as the overdramatic, neurotic, controlling youngest child of Hook. Not a evil pirate on her own.

“Why are ya-“ Harry was about to ask again but CJ shoved past him and walked up to the deck.

“CJ!” Harry yelled, stomping up the stairs.

“Shut up with the hissy fit, Hawthorne! Save your dramatics for Shrimpy!” CJ yelled back using her brother’s hated full name and hated nickname for his captain, “I won’t be in your hair for long. I’ve just come for what’s rightfully mine.”

“DON’T call Uma, Shrimpy and nothing here is for you.” Harry snarled catching the tail end of CJ’s coat.

“SHUT UP, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!” Their dad’s booming voice shocked the two into silence for a moment before they heard him resume his snoring.

“The Jolly Ranger is mine.” CJ glanced down at the lovely old ship and lovingly caressed the railing. “Mom said it should be. And we’re going to make sure it will.”

“We don’t have a mom.” Harry snorted derisively but CJ took out her letter and waved it tauntingly in his face.

“I do. It’s Lady Caine.” CJ smirked triumphantly as Harry read the words himself and his eyes darted between her and the letter in disbelief.

He tore the letter from her hand and crumpled into a little ball to throw in the ocean but CJ didn’t care. She didn’t need it anymore.

Harry stared at her as if she was a total stranger which was another look that seemed to pain her heart for some reason but CJ ignored it. She may have been living in Auradon but it had not made her soft. She did not care for her brother one bit.

CJ turned to loop one of the ropes used for keeping the sail open to her wrist, “Ta ta, Harry!”

With one practiced launch, she leapt off the boat and swung her way to the dock while knocking Harry’s hat to the water.

“CJAAAAY!”

With that ferocious shout and swears of vengeance, and Smee’s startled gasp, CJ smiled and nodded to herself confidently.

Calista Jane Hook was back everybody.

[habibialkaysani]

Vows (Laurel/Nyssa; T)

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: Across the multiverse, Dinah Laurel Lance and Nyssa (Amina) Raatko make promises to each other. Or, the three earths promises are kept, and the one earth in which they aren't.

A/N: So this is another fic long in the making, and it's one of my longer fics, actually. It features Laurel and Nyssa on earth-1, earth-8, earth-17 and earth-2, in that order. There's a lot that's inspired this fic, but primarily my friend Sophia, aka @sophiainspace, whose encouragement really helped push me to finish this when I felt like giving up. Credit also goes to Mo, aka @stungunmilly2, who read through an early version of one section of this, and Graz, aka @trumvh, who looked through the whole thing in record time.

Read at AO3

i. earth-1

It's still strange for Laurel to see her doppelganger from earth-2, this woman who calls herself Black Siren. This Laurel - no, Laurel corrects, Dinah is what she likes to be called - is her mirror image and yet her imperfect reflection who folded her arms and rolled her eyes when Laurel shared her uncertainty about Nyssa's feelings for her.

But Dinah also did something else. She told Laurel that she should go get her girl, damn it, because Nyssa is so very head-over-heels in love with her and Laurel’s an idiot if she can’t see that, and that lifts Laurel's spirits a little, even now.

Dinah's asleep, her face a little bruised but otherwise looking fine. Laurel isn't entirely sure why she insisted that she and Nyssa rescue her from this new guy Ricardo Diaz - maybe because, in a weird way, Laurel considers Dinah family. At the very least she's Laurel's twin, and resurrected or not, Laurel's always taken care of her family, no matter what earth they happen to be from.

“Are you all right?” Nyssa's voice makes Laurel jump. “I'm sorry if I startled you, ya Laurel.”

Laurel tries to smile. “It's okay. Is that -”

“Big Belly Burger, as promised,” Nyssa says with a smile, holding up the paper bag. “Though they only had strawberry milkshakes.”

“No black and white ones in sight, huh?” Laurel says before she can stop herself and she’s thankful when somehow, miraculously, Nyssa manages a laugh.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“It’s fine - thanks,” Laurel says, taking the bag gratefully. “Hey, we haven't really had a chance to talk about - everything, really.”

“With our little detour to Central City,” Nyssa says, inclining her head a little at Laurel's sleeping doppelganger on the couch, “I suppose we haven't had the time.”

“I can't believe how much she looks like me,” Laurel says quietly, sitting at the table. “I mean - I know you said she was my evil twin but seeing her, speaking to her - it really is like looking in the mirror.”

“I did not say she was your evil anything,” Nyssa says, raising her eyebrows and trying but failing to look affronted. (Her eyes give her away, the way they twinkle with warmth she can't seem to suppress.) “That was more what Thea said, if I recall correctly.”

Biting into a fry, Laurel considers. “Okay,” she says after a second, “looking at this stranger who has my face and has made even poorer life choices than me yet has taken my place and is - impersonating me - just seeing her is strange.”

“Are you sure her poor life choices are the ones you want to talk about?” Nyssa says lightly, but the way her teeth worry her bottom lip betray her casual tone.

“Nyssa -”

Laurel’s surprised when Nyssa reaches out - as if to touch Laurel’s hand - but then seems to think better of it. “You can say it, you know.”

“I just - I don't understand,” Laurel says. “I was dead.”

“A fact of which I was acutely aware.”

“After everything you told me about moving on from Sara's death despite missing her, mourning her - I don't get why you would bring me back.”

“The bloodlust should not be nearly as prevalent of a side effect with this Pit as it was with my father’s, if that is what you are concerned about,” Nyssa says, looking away, not so much dodging the question as much as ignoring it altogether. “As far as legend has it, as per the map provided by Merlyn, no one has bathed in these particular waters before.”

Fine. Nyssa’s not going to tell her. Laurel sits up and folds her arms. “What about my soul?”

“During my travels after you… died - I met a woman. Zatanna Zatara. She happens to be none other than John Constantine’s former teacher.”

“So of course she knew how to restore my soul,” Laurel says with a nod. “How did you convince her?”

Nyssa manages a half-smile. “Put it this way. The people who owe me favours are far more powerful than those who owe Oliver Queen anything.”

In return Laurel manages a chuckle. “Point taken.”

They eat in silence for a minute, and it's after Nyssa takes a sip of her milkshake that she says, “Are you upset with me?”

“I don't know,” Laurel answers truthfully. “I don't know what I'm feeling, to be honest. Even after I've had time to - process. And I realise I might sound like a hypocrite considering what I did - but I don't know why you brought me back. Especially because - there isn't anything left for me here. Not anymore.” She chokes back tears now, because she's put a dam between her and the inevitable floodgates of grief until she can process that, too, but it's taking too much strength to keep it up. The tears are hot as they trickle down her cheeks and Laurel closes her eyes, trying to will herself to steady a little.

“I know my condolences aren't much to offer,” Nyssa says, and Laurel knows she means it. “But I will offer them nevertheless. You deserved to say goodbye to him.”

“Thank you,” Laurel says faintly. “And I know he wasn't perfect - God knows he could have done things differently for me as a father… but I still can't believe he's gone.”

“And I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back,” Nyssa continues. “But this Pit is different from the others. That's how I knew it wasn't used before - because this one is special. It can only be used once. And when we lost you… your father asked me to bring you back. I couldn't. Once I discovered the other Pits... I realised I could right at least one wrong in the world. And that was when you were taken from it.”

“And that's it?” Laurel says after a pause. “That's why you literally brought me back from the dead? To honour the memory of a man who didn't even like you very much?”

Nyssa shakes her head. “No, that's not why. I -” And it's only now that Nyssa loses some of her composure and Laurel feels a weird sense of victory knowing that she's finally gotten under Nyssa's skin - from what she remembers that is no small feat. But then Laurel shakes her head, remembering what her doppelganger said to her before she fell asleep. That Nyssa loves her. She must, to go to such lengths to bring her back from another plane of existence altogether. And the whys and hows are important, sure, but right now as she watches Nyssa al Ghul nervously take a sip of her milkshake, Laurel realises there's something that takes precedence.

Taking a deep breath, Laurel reaches out, gently moving Nyssa's hand away from her milkshake, pushing it aside.

“I'm sorry,” Laurel says softly, touching Nyssa's cheek. “I didn't mean to push you. My head was always kind of all over the place even without the whole resurrection thing. And now it’s like - everything’s so intense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember… the first few days we spent together?” Laurel says after hesitating for a long moment.

“After my father disowned me, you mean?”

“No,” she answers. “I’m talking about - those summer nights, after everything went down with that bioweapon attack and Oliver killed your father and you were going to leave for Nanda Parbat and we -”

“Yes,” Nyssa interrupts with a smile, one that spreads slowly across her face, not just with her lips but with her eyes, rich with so much feeling, right across to the faint blush on cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. “Do you think I would ever forget the happiest days of my life?”

At this, Laurel’s lost for words, and it takes a few seconds for her to find her voice again. When she does speak, she realises she’s getting choked up and clears her throat impatiently. “There was this time you said to me that you just… felt too much. Every emotion - anger, love, hate, sadness - and that you didn’t understand how I could see past that. But now I really get that. Because right now, that’s me all over. It’s like - the volume of all these feelings and memories and thoughts is turned right up, and it’s hard for me to even think.”

“And for that I’m -”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Laurel cuts across softly. “I don't want to sound ungrateful, Nyssa, because I'm not. I just don’t get what makes me so special.”

“Laurel, before your funeral, I told your father I would do anything for you,” Nyssa says. “I meant it then, after I had lost you, and I mean it now. And I've been - lost without you. Not just lonely, like I was when I lost Sara. This was worse. It was like part of me had been missing. And seeing you here, living and breathing as I bear witness - I feel close to whole for maybe the first time in my life. And maybe that was selfish of me, but if it means making the world a little brighter by bringing you back into it… I think it's worth it. Even if you never forgive me for it.”

This time Laurel smiles automatically. “Nyssa - I don't need to forgive you. Because I love you for it.”

Nyssa's eyes widen in surprise, and she's half out of her chair as she leans forward and says, “Can I -”

But Laurel's already beat her to it, standing up too, kissing her, heart soaring when Nyssa lifts her off her feet.

“For the record,” Nyssa says through a soft gasp, “I love you too.”

ii. earth-8

Nyssa’s never run so fast in her life.

Sure, she’s chased perps before, but this is different. For once, Nyssa's running towards something, someone she wants, and not, she realises, to interrogate or put in a cell or even work with - no. She wants someone to have a future with.

She gets it now. Laurel wants more. And that’s why she’s leaving.

God, Nyssa's been so stupid. Even now, as she turns a corner and the train station comes into view, Nyssa can't believe she missed what was right in front of her the whole time. As Nyssa rushes towards the ticket barriers, she just about catches sight of Laurel’s familiar black leather jacket and blonde hair, heeled boots clacking against the platform as she’s about to board the train.

“Special Agent Nyssa Raatko, FBI,” Nyssa says quickly to the ticket officer, moving her jacket to show her badge. “I need to stop that train.”

“The one to Keystone?” he says, and she nods frantically. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Nyssa says immediately, and the man raises his eyebrows. “I mean - yes, but it’s not - I just need to speak with someone on that train. Now.”

“So it’s urgent?” he asks, and Nyssa sighs, then puts her hands on her hips purposefully.

“Yes, it’s urgent. And you’re going to let me through unless you want me to arrest you for obstruction.”

He’s silent with a sullen look on his face as he lets Nyssa through the barrier with his pass, and Nyssa all but sprints towards the train, which is getting ready for departure and is about to close its doors. Thankfully Nyssa spots the conductor and when she shows her badge the woman puts her hand up, signalling to the driver, and the doors stay open.

“Nyssa Raatko, FBI,” Nyssa calls. “Nothing to worry about, just some, uh, routine checks.”

Before the conductor can question her further, Nyssa gets on, heart racing, searching for the face she’s grown to know so well over the years. She gets halfway through the carriage before she spots Laurel, who’s buried in a book - a romance, no doubt, knowing her - and doesn’t see Nyssa.

“Lance…” Nyssa starts to say, and Laurel frowns before looking up, and then her eyes widen in surprise.

“Raatko? What are you doing here?” Laurel demands, immediately getting to her feet. Nyssa can't blame her for being defensive, given how their last conversation ended.

“Looking for you, actually,” Nyssa replies after a second. “I wanted to…” But she trails off because what can she say, really? Where does she even start?

They're starting to attract attention from the other passengers.

Laurel draws herself up to her full height, crosses her arms. “What? You wanted to what? Tell me what the hell was so important you had to come here, now, because I don't know what's -”

“You were right,” Nyssa interrupts. “You said to me that I didn't know how to act like a normal person. That I've been keeping something from you and that I lied to you during our last assignment and you couldn't accept that when I was meant to be your partner and trust you with my life like you do with yours. That I'm closed off and selfish and difficult to work with - you're right. I'm all of those things and so, so much worse. But I - I can tell you the truth now.”

But Laurel still looks sceptical. “Why, because the truth suddenly sets you free?”

Nyssa shakes her head. “No. I'm never going to feel that way. But maybe - just maybe - I might change your mind. About leaving here.”

Laurel closes her eyes in exasperation and when she opens them again Nyssa's surprised to see they're brimming with emotion. “It's too late,” she says in a cracked voice. “You're too late. Whatever it is you're keeping from me - we're done, Raatko, because you don't trust me.”

“I do,” Nyssa says pleadingly. “Lance… Laurel, I really do. You're the person I trust most in the world.”

“So how could you lie to me?”

“To protect -”

“I don't need protection,” Laurel snaps. “I do the protecting. We do.”

“But I don't want anything to ever happen to you because I -”

“Because you what, Nyssa? I'm not a precious rookie snowflake anymore. But you refuse to treat me like an equal while convincing me that you want to be my friend - and then you wonder why I chose to leave? Really?”

But then Laurel's eyes move off Nyssa and over her shoulder.

“Agent Raatko, my colleague tells me you're holding up this train for an urgent FBI matter. Care to explain what the hell you think you're doing?”

Nyssa ignores the more senior-looking officer, though. Taking a deep breath, she goes with it, because it’s now or never, really. “The truth is, Laurel, that I - I love you. And I have battled with how I feel for so long because I… thought you were too good for me and I didn't think I could be good to you if by some miracle you felt the same way. I felt that if I told you - I'd risk losing you. And I can't lose you. Ever.”

The wave of relief Nyssa feels when she sees Laurel's shoulders fall slowly and her eyes soften is so strong that she's surprised she can stay upright because Nyssa's said her piece and yet Laurel isn't running away.

And the officer still behind Nyssa now has a hand on her shoulder but even her grip slackens a bit at Nyssa's words.

“What?” Laurel breathes after a good minute of total silence. (The carriage is silent, the other passengers waiting with bated breath.)

“I love you,” Nyssa repeats. “I've been in love with you for so long I don't think I can remember a time when I didn't. But I realised recently that it doesn't matter how you feel in return. I realised that how I feel doesn't have to have - conditions. I feel happy just to be able to say it to you because you mean so much to me and -”

“Okay, that's enough,” the officer interrupts, grabbing Nyssa's arm and steering her away.

Laurel doesn't call after Nyssa, so God only knows what she's thinking, but if Nyssa isn't mistaken she can definitely hear a sniffle as she's taken away into a separate room.

Not much is said to her, except that the officer is getting her supervisor, and Nyssa sits back in the chair, sighing. In the distance she can hear the sound of the whistle as the train departs the station, clearly delayed because of Nyssa's desperate last-ditch attempt to explain being a shitty human being to the only person in the world she's truly cared about but nevertheless still en route to Keystone.

And once again - she’s failed.

Nyssa puts her head in her hands, wondering what on earth made her decide to do something so stupid. She hears the door open but doesn't want to look up - that is, until she recognises the familiar scent of red vanilla perfume that she only associates with one person.

“Laurel,” Nyssa breathes. “What are you -?”

And despite everything, it's impossible for Nyssa's heart not to soar at Laurel's attempt at a nonchalant shrug. “I… thought I should try to get you out of this. Not that you haven't been in deeper shit before, but it's still bad. I mean - what would you have done it I were on a plane?”

Nyssa tries to smile. “TSA would probably have me arrested,” she says slowly, “because I would have tried to stop your flight.”

“This isn't like you, Nyssa,” Laurel says softly. “Breaking every rule in the book so you could tell me that you…” She can't quite finish that sentence and looks away. But it’s okay. Nyssa doesn't exactly expect her to.

“Suffice it to say that I am rarely, if ever, able to think straight when it comes to you.”

At first Laurel doesn't reply, just smiles, then her brow creases like she's seriously considering something, her gaze on Nyssa's mouth and then her eyes and then her mouth again. Automatically Nyssa closes her eyes and miraculously she's rewarded a second later when she feels Laurel's lips, warm and sweet and hungry for her, on her own.

When Laurel's kissed all the breath out of her and Nyssa is left gasping for air, she finally pulls away and says quietly, “Nyssa… don’t you dare think straight when it comes to me again, okay?”

“Understood,” Nyssa replies, still breathless and sure Laurel's smudged her lipstick a fair amount from their kiss. Sure enough, Laurel reaches out a second later, uses her finger to wipe away a bit of makeup from the corner of Nyssa's mouth, and Nyssa's heart is racing but after a moment she musters up the courage to ask, “What about your train?”

Laurel laughs now, and it's music to Nyssa's ears, especially when she says, “You asked me to stay, right?”

Nyssa smiles. “I did.” Daringly, she reaches out and touches Laurel's hand where it's still resting on the table, and Laurel squeezes her hand in return.

“Okay. I will.” And like everything with Laurel Lance it is just that simple for her. She grins at Nyssa, then gets to her feet as three annoyed-looking men walk into the room, and Nyssa breathes just a little bit easier - not because Laurel's going to get her out of this hole Nyssa's dug for herself (as per usual) but because by some miracle this beautiful woman she's head over heels in love with is still by her side.

iii. earth-17

Dusk is just starting to fall on one of Coast City’s quieter beaches. A few people are lingering on a couple of deck chairs on the far side of the coast, but as far as Dinah is concerned, there’s only one person with her right now, and that is her soon-to-be wife.

Nyssa is clad in a simple white dress, just like Dinah, wrists and neck decorated with tiny, intricate blue flower chains, the colour of the waves that gently splash forward from behind her. As she approaches Dinah, Nyssa's playing with her engagement ring and Dinah watches as the diamond catches the deep red rays from the glow of the sunset.

Dinah smiles. “Hey, you,” she says when Nyssa reaches her side. Reaching out, Dinah touches her fiancée’s wrist, then slips her fingers through Nyssa's.

“Ya Dinah,” Nyssa says softly, “are you… are you sure about this?”

“Why, are you getting cold feet or something?” Dinah asks playfully, and the quip has left her mouth before she sees the uncertainty on Nyssa's face, and then Dinah's sure her heart has dropped to her stomach in an instance and her face falls. “You're not - getting cold feet, are you?”

Her expression clearing a little, Nyssa raises her eyebrows. “On the contrary, the sand between my toes feels very warm indeed.”

“Nyssa…”

“Dinah,” Nyssa interrupts, “you can't possibly think that I would have a single doubt about marrying you.” Dinah must still look worried, though, because at this Nyssa takes both of Dinah's hands into her own and kisses her knuckles. “My darling, I've dreamt of this day for so long. You know that.”

Dinah's breath catches in her throat now, and words almost fail her before she finally manages, “Save the vows for later, babe,” and Nyssa chuckles. Dinah wouldn't normally feel so choked up - God knows she was too busy worrying about Ollie being late to the altar at her first wedding to really get emotional - but she can't help it. It's happening, really happening. And this is not a pleasant dream that she'll surface from, disappointed and yearning for more, or some tortuous fantasy that she wouldn't ordinarily have even dared to dream until…

… until Lian Yu, until the boat she was on for her honeymoon capsized and her world was literally turned upside-down and to this day Dinah still doesn't quite understand how she emerged it from her ordeal alive.

“Yes,” Dinah says suddenly. Nyssa looks confused for a second. “In answer to your question - yes. I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“You really love me?” Nyssa's voice is soft with disbelief as she leans her forehead against Dinah's and looks her in the eyes.

“With everything in me,” Dinah replies without hesitation. “I always have.”

Nyssa breathes in deeply, then says, “I'm glad. I just - promise me something, please,” Nyssa says.

“Babe,” Dinah says, smiling, “you know I would promise you anything in the world.”

“No boats.”

“No boats,” Dinah repeats. “Cross my heart.”

“I hope this is a good time to interrupt.” Tatsu’s voice makes them both look up. “Hey, partner,” she says to Nyssa, who grins back. “You okay, Dinah?”

“Yeah,” Dinah says faintly, impatiently brushing away the tracks still on her cheeks. “Don't worry. They're - happy tears.”

Tatsu turns to Nyssa. “You wanna get right to it, then?”

“I would like that very much,” Nyssa says warmly.

“I have your vows here,” Tatsu says, handing a small folded square of paper to Dinah, then rummaging in her pocket for a slightly crumpled yellow napkin with Nyssa's familiar messy scrawl on it. Dinah raises her eyebrows at Tatsu, amused, only for Tatsu to shrug and turn to Nyssa.

“I wasn't sure what to write,” she admits to Dinah. “Only worked it out this morning.”

“Just keep talking like you stepped out of a Jane Austen novel and you'll be fine,” Dinah assures Nyssa with a wink.

Nyssa smiles back, moves to stand opposite Dinah. Unfolding her own vows, Dinah fumbles with the paper, her hands shaking a bit until Nyssa stills her with a touch of her fingertips.

“Ready?” Tatsu asks, and when Dinah looks at her she can see their friend’s eyes have lit up with warmth and Dinah knows right then that there is nowhere else any of them would rather be. “Dearly beloved. I am here today to bear witness to the long-anticipated union of Dinah Lance and Nyssa Raatko.”

“You mind if I go first?” Dinah says, and Nyssa's eyes twinkle because she must be thinking what Dinah's thinking. Nyssa just nods after a second, though, feeling Tatsu’s eyes on them, so Dinah takes a deep breath and says, “Nyssa, I...when I first met you, I - I thought I knew how I saw the world. And I thought I had a good idea of what justice meant. But I got you as my partner and… from the very beginning, you made me question everything. I remember you said I made you a better detective but you made me a better person. Because when I saw you, so strong in your convictions, fearless, and the most moral person I've ever known by a mile - you just threw me completely off my game. You're the only person who ever has. And even when I was marrying someone else - my constant was still you. Whatever happened, I always found you by my side. Whether I woke up in a hospital with broken ribs, or you stuck your neck out for me, protected me, after I fucked up with a case, or when I just needed a friend to tell me it was okay - you were always there.

“And when I was - away… the thought of you is what kept me alive. There were times when I felt like dying. But dying would have been easy. And you always taught me that the choice isn't between right and wrong. It's between what’s right and what’s easy. And there was something I wanted so, so much more than leaving this earth - and that was seeing you. You were my north star. My way home.”

“I still can't believe you found your way back to me,” Nyssa whispers through tears. “Sorry, this is beautiful and I'm interrupting…”

“You never have to apologise to me,” Dinah tells her. “Not ever.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dinah says softly. “And I want the world to know it. You're not just my home, Nyssa. You're my life, and I want to share mine with you forever - as your wife.”

She takes the ring from Tatsu’s open palm, murmuring her thanks to their friend, and Dinah tries to stop her hand trembling as she places the ring on Nyssa's finger.

“Wow. That was… I don't know what to say,” Nyssa says. “I like it when you use your words.”

“I like it even more when you use yours.”

They're both surprised when they hear a sniffle from their friend and officiate, who has to turn away for a second. When Tatsu gathers a bit of composure she turns back to them, mostly stoic once more, clears her throat and says, “Okay. Nyssa?”

“I - when you were gone, Dinah, I never lost hope. I never stopped looking for you. And I wish I could say it was because of some sixth sense that I had, that I knew you were alive, somehow. But the truth is that I couldn't bear to live in a world without you in it. And when you came back to me, against every odd imaginable, something changed. Because I thought I could love you from afar without ever telling you and that I would be content with that. That I could live with that, because that would mean at least I didn't have to live without you.

“So being able to tell you that I love you unconditionally… I have tried, habibti, to say how much it means to be in words, but with you words have always failed me. And I am -” Dinah watches as Nyssa stops to take a breath and hold back the emotion Dinah can see sparkling in her eyes “- I could not be more proud to marry you, to make a vow to stand by you. It means the world to me. And so do you.”

“You always love to one-up me, huh?” Dinah says teasingly. “That was really nice.”

“Here you go,” says Tatsu, giving Nyssa the remaining ring, and she slips it onto Dinah's ring finger with the biggest smile that lights up her eyes and flushes her cheeks a faint shade of pink. “So, by the power vested in me by the, uh, email-order ministry, I hereby declare Dinah Laurel Lance and Nyssa Raatko to be legally bound. Ladies, you may kiss your -”

But then Tatsu bursts out laughing because Dinah's already pulled Nyssa towards her and after a second, Tatsu smiles, slipping away from her friends’ entwined silhouettes. And Dinah's world isn't the hot sand between her toes or the noisy rush of the tide slowly approaching them or salty Coast City breeze filling her nose, but the woman in her arms whispering sweet everythings in her ear.

iv. earth-2

Dinah's lying on her side on her bed, staring blankly at the stars, when Amina climbs from her roof onto Dinah's. Amina grins at her best friend, whose eyes immediately widen at the sight of her. She runs to open the window to let Amina in.

Amina doesn't hesitate, for once, and immediately ducks her head so she can enter through the window and throw her arms around Dinah, and Amina can't help but breathe in deeply as she buries her nose in Dinah's shoulder and for a fleeting second she's pretty sure Dinah's lifted her off her feet. Dinah smells of flowers and perfume and summer, like she always has, but most of all of home.

“I missed you,” Amina says with a contented sigh when they finally pull away. Automatically Dinah takes Amina’s hand so they can sit on the bed next to each other.

“I missed you too. And not just because AP English isn't the same without you.”

“I miss it,” Amina says, and Dinah just shakes her head fondly. “I can’t wait to catch up with everything.”

“That makes one of us.” Dinah visibly hesitates, now, and then says tentatively, “How's Mrs Raatko doing?”

At this Amina looks away. “The same,” she says quietly. “They said there's nothing they can do, even in National City.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Dinah says softly. Amina closes her eyes, for in that moment Dinah touches her cheek and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I wanna help.”

“Dinah Lance,” Amina says fondly, “always trying to save the world.”

But Dinah shakes her head. “No. I don’t care about the world. Just you and your world - which obviously includes your mom.”

Appropriately timed, a ginger cat jumps onto the windowsill and meows loudly in protest.

“And Mittens, right?” Amina asks. Dinah smiles, and Amina groans inwardly because of course her best friend knows what Amina is doing, trying to lighten the mood and pretend everything is okay when it's anything but. Yet thankfully Dinah humours her after a second.

“I already saved him once, but fine, okay. Him too.”

Silence falls, but it's the comfortable kind that they're both used to. Amina looks out of the window, marvelling at the view of the stars when she turns her head a little. The moon is a thin, barely-there crescent in the inky sky, but its light is still bright and it beautifies ever star it shines upon.

They've been here before, more than a few times, watching the constellations scattered across the heavens above. Dinah would lay her head on Amina’s shoulder, listening to Amina name them - Andromeda, Orion, Scorpius - pointing to each one she saw. Amina would tell Dinah a tale she learned in Hebrew school about how God created the sun and the moon on the fourth day, and because the moon was smaller in size He created companions in the stars that surrounded her. And Dinah would look up, smile at her, face lit up by the glow of the half-moon, and say: That’s beautiful.

Amina would smile back, whisper: So are you.

“I don't know what to do,” Amina says at last. “Mom has all but given up. She says that if it's time for her to go… that's her fate.”

“And you?” Dinah asks. “What do you think?”

“I mean - I believe in fate. In what is written for me.”

But Dinah surprises her with what she says next. “You can't seriously believe that.”

Amina finds she’s stung by this, unexpectedly so. “That doesn't mean I'm going to just let my mother go,” she says. “But if something happens - I get that it's out of my hands. Even if I don't know what I'm gonna do if she -”

“The doctors will find a way,” Dinah insists, taking Amina’s hand. “I promise.”

At this Amina shakes her head and despite herself she can feel the beginnings of a smile on her lips because that is just something Dinah would say. “You can't possibly promise that. Believer or not.”

Dinah sighs. “Maybe I can’t. Fine. Then I promise - I promise that whatever happens… I'll be there for you. Now and forever.”

Amina wants to promise the same in return. She should. But she opens her mouth and can't form the words, can't form any words, because it’s like she’s finally cracked. It’s a long time coming, really, because Amina hasn’t let herself cry - that would make all of this real and she wouldn’t be able to stay strong for her mother like she promised her she always would. But now, here she is, tears dripping down her cheeks. She barely registers Dinah pulling her close, gently stroking her hair.

“Shhh.”

“I'm sorry, I just -”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Dinah says firmly. Then, as if she's read Amina’s mind, she leans her forehead against her best friend’s and adds, “And you're my best friend and I love you so don't think for a second that you owe me anything in return.”

She says that last quickly, and Amina smiles, really smiles, now, because how could she not, when Dinah's gazing at her like that through hooded lids, eyes dark and wanting? Amina realises she's waiting, though, because Dinah doesn't lean forward, just holds her gaze steadily until Amina says suddenly, “Dinah, close your eyes.”

Dinah's brow creases for a second but then she sits up and does as she's told, looking like she's holding her breath.

It's not that Amina hasn't kissed her before. She has. And vice versa. But this is different. She's not sure if it's because of the tiny beams of starlight filtering through the darkest of shadows into Dinah's bedroom, or because she's suddenly acutely aware of how warm Dinah’s thigh feels pressed against hers.

Amina puts her arms around Dinah's neck, moving her hair out of the way, and then kisses her. And usually their kisses are light and quick, or languid and vaguely experimental, but this time it's neither - Amina kisses with a desperation and thirst that it feels like her life depends on it. She kisses her like a drowning woman with Dinah as her sole source of oxygen, so hard that there's no way she's imagining how swollen red Dinah's lips look when they finally come up for air.

But Dinah, it seems, is hungry for her too, intent on touching every inch of her she can reach. Amina reaches out, tangles her fingers with Dinah's as she falls back against the pillows.

They don't need words, not really, but Amina says them anyway, pressing promises into Dinah's palm and then covering it with her own hand, like their palms are a book’s pages and her vow to love her a flower to put in between.

Amina doesn't know that she can't keep her promise, that a day from now her mother will depart this world and she'll have to leave forever to the other side of the world to be with her father and sister without saying goodbye because she can’t take more pain. She has no idea about who Dinah will become in the years that follow, how everyone she loves will leave her, on a boat, in a taxi, in missed calls and unanswered texts, and she'll wake one day with a terrible sonic scream that shatters glass and bursts eardrums. Certainly, Amina doesn't know what Dinah will become, shifting from earth to earth, villain to villain, prison to prison.

(And some days, when she's in Nyssa's safe house on earth-1 and she sees a sliver of the moon in the star-strewn sky - Black Siren watches the glittering constellations, and like she’s done every single night since Amina left, she wishes on a star that she’s still here, beneath the same heavens as her.)

“[Hashem ordered, ‘The moon’s] light shall be one-sixtieth of its previous strength.’ The moon complained to Hashem at her plight and, so that she should not remain utterly without comfort, Hashem gave her companions – the stars.”

–Naomi Alderman, Disobedience

Tagging: @dani-talks-shit @ohhsoadorkable @scrollgirl @soundtrack-yourlife @homosexual-hairflip @goldenwolfrose @lairapocus @thefearoffallingapartohohoh @maziqueensmith @iwonderifthatisart @sarahhh-manning @maggiesimpsontheimpportal @queennan1

[buckyscrystalqueen]

I Can’t: Part 2

Pairings: Seb Stan x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, introvert stuff… angst. IDK I’m bad at this kinda thing. Fluff & swearing as usual.

Word Count: 2,330

A/N: Looks like we got another one shot turned mini-series. Enjoy & Thank @magpiegirl80 for the adorable derp photo of her dog, Ollie & send love to my pups, Lucy and Skye!!!

Part 1

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

It took two weeks of denial before you saved his phone number and two weeks more of staring at it at least ten times a day before you got the nerve to even consider texting him back. The process of actually sending that text took at least a month and a half because you knew once you did… you were opening Pandora’s box. 

‘Hi… so I guess I’m your soul…’ *delete*

‘So we’re soulmates… I guess.’ *delete*

‘I’m sorry to break it to you but I can’t…’ *delete*

‘I don’t know what you want from me…’ *delete*

‘I don’t think I can handle being in the spotlight…’ *delete*

‘Hi…’ *Send*

You sat nervously in your spot on the couch in your living room, staring at the iMessage screen on your laptop, regretting hitting send severely. It was only a few moments before the three dots of doom appeared in the bottom left hand corner.

‘Hi, sweetheart. How are you today?’

You couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at the corner of your lips as you moved your hands from where you were clutching them together under your chin and set them lightly on your laptop as if it were going to burn you for doing so.

‘Scared.’

You responded truthfully. Your head reeled as you tried to come up with just what you wanted to say but the three dots appeared once more before you could.

‘That’s perfectly understandable, (Y/N). It’s an intimidating situation.’

You nodded in agreement as you curled your hands under your chin again and bit your lip while the dots continued.

‘How about we take this slow because trust me, I have just as much anxiety about this as you do.’

You huffed a humorless laugh and shook your head as you wrote your response.

‘I doubt that. Did you stay curled up in your bed for three day watching reruns of Sex and the City?’

The moment you hit send, you wanted to melt into a hole at what you just confessed to Sebastian freaking Stan.

‘You got me there.’ 

‘But I did eat a whole pizza in like an hour if that helps at all.’

You smiled fully and nodded.

‘It does. I turn to Ben and Jerry’s myself.’

‘What’s your go-to flavor?’

You bit you started to actually chew on your lip as you glanced over your computer screen to think for a moment.

‘B&J would be Half Baked but hands down, cookie dough is my favorite.’

‘Cookie dough!!!!! I love cookie dough! But my B&J flavor would be Chunky Monkey. It’s addictive.’

You giggled as you quickly looked up the unfamiliar to you flavor and scrunched your nose at the ingredients listing.

‘Eww walnuts! I can do everything else about that but the walnuts.’

There was a few moments of hesitation before the dots appeared again.

‘I could totally insert a ‘nuts’ joke right now but I’ll refrain out of respect. LOL.’

You giggled at your screen and choose to let your inappropriate side stay hidden for now.

‘I’ll let it slide. But trust me when I say I’m far from appropriate usually. My mom gets on me about it all the time. Especially the amount of times I say ‘fuck’ in a single sentence. I make Negan from Walking Dead look like an alter boy with my mouth.’

Once you hit send, you closed your eyes and groaned.

‘Well it is a very versatile word. I’m a big fan of it’s many forms.’

He responded and you could almost see his smirk in your mind. You couldn’t help yourself with your response.

‘Oh, I bet you do! LMAO’

‘But you’re not alone there, hun.’ 

‘There it is! Hahaha! Ahhh, I love it!’

You smiled and crossed your legs under your laptop on the couch as the three dots appeared once more.

‘Hey, I’m really, really sorry to cut this short but I have a thing here in a few minutes so I have to go.’

Your smile instantly dropped.

‘Oh! Right, famous actor. Right.’

His response was instantaneous. 

‘Hey, I don’t want you to think of me like that, sweetheart. You’ll overwhelm yourself. I’m just a regular guy that has the same fears, anxiety, and hesitation about this situation as you do. Finding your soulmate is a huge, life changing step. But at the end of the day, no matter how much I want this, you still have the option to walk away. I hope you don’t. I really, really hope you give this a chance. But if you look at this with me being famous, I have a gut feeling that you’ll pull away from me before you give us a chance. And I know it’s hard to wrap your head around being in the spot light with anxiety. It’s hard to do anything with anxiety and I get that. But try to stay calm for me, OK? Please, (Y/N)?’

You read through his message twice before nodding your head slowly.

‘OK.’

‘OK. If it’s OK with you, I’m gunna text you later tonight when I get done with my thing. Sound good?’

You nodded again as if he could see you as you wrote out your response.

‘That’s fine. I’ll do my best not to psych myself out too much.’

‘That’s all I can ask from you, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you later.’

You waited a few minutes, staring at your computer screen before looking up at your front door when your mom walked in.

“I texted him.” You said simply as she set her bag down by the front door.

“Good for you.” She responded with a smile as she flopped down on her couch with a sigh after a long day at work. “I’m proud of you for taking that step.” You nodded in agreement as you looked back at your laptop screen and scrolled to the tops of the messages to read them over once more.

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

“You know, you’re the luckiest girl in the world.” Your Tumblr friend, Christine said on a Face Time call the next morning. “I’d kill to have a soulmate with that body. I’m just stuck with JP… Oi! Don’t hit!” She said as her fiancé hit her in the back of the head with a pillow.

“It’s just weird.” You said as you glanced over at the horror movie you had on as background noise. “Like, of all the fucking people in the whole world, a freaking actor is my soul mate.” You looked back at her with a shrug. “Like really? I feel like the most unlucky person in history here.”

“Bullshit.” She snapped back. “How are you unlucky?”

“Christine, it’s me! I’m awkward and loud and I say inappropriate shit all the time. How the fucking fuck am I supposed to date an actor, huh? I’d embarrass him right off the edge of the map!”

“Don’t be a dick. He obviously is fuckin’ in to ya if he’s taking time out of his busy schedule ta see how you are. So put your big girl pants on and accept that the famous actor is your soulmate, you lucky cunt and let him get to know you!” A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you looked away from the screen.

“I’m lucky as fuck, aren’t I?” You asked as you looked back at her. 

“Hell yea you are! So don’t go fuckin’ ruinin’ it by runnin’ around in your head so I can live vicariously through you.”

“Alright, alright!” You conceded. “Sorry UK hubby. I’m divorcing you!” You called out teasingly at JP.

“I want half your shite!” He yelled back causing you and your friend to laugh.

“OK, so now what?” You asked as you made yourself comfortable in your spot and muted the woman screaming on your TV. “What do I do now?”

“Well he said last night ta text him when you got up, right?”

“Yea…”

“Well you’ve been up least an hour since ye actually have clothes on…”

“Shut up.” You laughed but she continued over you.

“So text him. Stay casual…”

“And say what?”

“Say ‘hi’, ya bell end!”

“You’re a horrible friend, do you know that?” You joked.

“I know.” She said with a shrug as she picked up her long haired Jack Russel terrier, Ollie and held him up beside her face. “Do it for Ollie.”

“Rude.” You replied flatly as you waved at her. “Alright, I’ll call you later.” She waved back and said bye as you hung up the video call. You groaned to yourself and leaned back against the back of your seat as you scrubbed the heels of your palms from your hairline down to your chin. “Alright, fine.” You said aloud to your own dogs as you pulled up your iMessage app. “I’ll text him.”

‘Morning’

As you waited for his response, you turned the volume of your movie back on. You watched for a few moments before your laptop ‘dinged’.

‘It’s almost 11. If you are just waking up, I am royally jealous. I’ve been up and at the gym since 5am.’

‘Oh, hell no! I protest for you. The only exercise I do is walking my dogs around the neighborhood and whatever exercise I get at work walking clients up and down hallways.’

You turned down the volume of your laptop so it wouldn’t be annoyingly loud as the three dots popped up again.

‘1) what kind of dogs? And 2) what kinda work?’

You smiled as you grabbed your cell phone off the pillow beside you and pulled up your photos with a smile. You quickly found your favorite photo of your pups sent it to him before going back to type on your laptop.

‘Lucy is the white one. She’s a soft coated Wheaton terrier. Skye is the black one Lucy is sitting on. She’s a rescue so we don’t know exactly what she is but we say she’s a Havanese because that’s what she looks like.’

‘And I’m a CNA which is basically an under appreciated, under paid babysitter for the elderly. I work about thirty hours a week right now. Helps my mom pays bills as best as I can.’

‘OMG those are the cutest damn dogs in the entire world! I’m jealous. I miss being able to have a dog but I travel too much. And good for you on the job. I bet it’s tough to work with the elderly and not get the appreciation other nurses get.’

You nodded in agreement as you responded.

‘It takes a special kinda person to do my job. I hate it so much usually. But when I’m almost at the point where I want to throw my hands up and quit, a client or a family member makes it worth my while again.’

‘Well I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Even if no one else is. I am.’

You smirked at your screen as you took a sip of your coffee and set it down on the table beside you.

‘You have to be. You’re my soulmate, remember?’

‘Hey! I’m trying to be supportive here. You’re killin’ me, Smalls.’

You let out a barked laugh as you found the gif you had saved in a file for Tumblr.

‘For-ev-er.’

You smiled proudly at yourself as Seb responded.

‘I’m crying tears of joy that you got that reference. I’ve said it before and people just looked at me like I was more crazy than I actually am.’

‘I have classic tastes, IDK what to say. I can’t tell you how many times I have referenced ‘classic’ movies on Tumblr for it to just go right over half my followers heads. Like what is this from?’

You pulled up your file of ‘Pics & Gifs’ and scrolled through to find the one you wanted.

‘Well that one’s just too easy. The Big Lebowski, obviously.’

‘Yea for us old folks. Bet your ass 75% of the population under 25 have no idea what movie that’s from.’

‘Well now that’s just… that’s just sad.’

You nodded in agreement and sighed.

‘You have no freaking idea.’

It took a few minutes for him to respond again and you almost forgot you were texting him when he sent you another gif.

‘Name the film.’

You scoffed loudly and shook your head.

‘Really? You’re gunna try to trip me up on a Tarantino flick? He’s one of my faves and that’s ‘Four Rooms’. Try again, Seb.’

The two of you went back and forth for nearly three hours sending the most obscure movie gifs you could find; everything from ‘Airplane’ to ‘BASEketball’. Most of them you had both seen but there where a couple that either you or he hadn’t and Seb said he was starting a lit of movies you both needed to see eventually. Before you knew it, your mom was getting home for her between cases nap and your head whipped up toward the clock.

“Damn, is it really three?” She nodded as your laptop ‘dinged’ with another text.

“Hi Christine.” She said as she set her purse down on the coffee table on her way out to the back porch for a smoke.

“Not Christine.” You responded as you guessed ‘Office Space’ correctly. She stopped by the sliding glass door with her eye brows arched.

“Sebastian?” You smirked and nodded as you sent a gif from ‘Wet Hot American Summer’. “Good for you. I’m proud of you.”

“Stop.” You laughed as you mentally cheered for your soulmate for getting the right answer. “I’m just making a new friend right now. Don’t go ordering wedding invitations.” You looked over at her as she held her hands up in surrender.

“Didn’t say anything.” She claimed on her way out back. “Just glad you’re making friends again.” You grumbled at her to shut up under your breath as you pulled up yet another gif and sent it off to him.

Part 3

[what-even-is-thiss]

Fic, All That’s Left

Request from an anon who wanted a prinxiety fic where Roman is a monster slayer and Virgil is a monster that’s a human slayer. Sorry I don’t do romance in this fandom, anon. I hope this is okay. Also like… @silly-aesthetic-me wrote a short fic about the demon thing and it’s romantic so I didn’t reblog it but I like the demon idea they had and kind of wanted to write a fic based off of it so I’m going with that. Sorta getting a Blue Exorcist vibe from what I did here. God, I love that anime. Also, this is the longest fanfic I have ever written, hands down. I really hope it was worth all of that.

Oh and there’s a disabled character in here. If I misrepresented anything I’m sorry. I tried to research but ya know, I’m able bodied so there’s probably something I overlooked.

Tip Jar

Warnings: Blood, violence, death, supernatural elements such as magic and demons. 9.695 words.

Abstract: What are we willing to do for our friends?

The air was too still for Roman’s liking. Something devilish was in the air. Something unsavory. Nearby a dark figure in a tree was having a similar thought.

The demon in the tree held the long black nail of his thumb in between his teeth and fiddled with it but did not chew. The human was just looking. Just peering around like it could smell something. Maybe it could but just didn’t know it.

The human smelled like expensive cologne and freshly cleaned clothes. A scent that could send one’s head spinning in pain if they had little experience. Humans are way too clean, especially this one. This one reeks of arrogance and determination. Almost reminded Virgil of the poor sap he had to posses in order to be here.

Could he really be that dangerous?

Roman stood on the railing of his balcony, trusting his own balance too much perhaps, but he knew he could stay. His short hair was being abused by the wind and the paper he was holding in his hand threatened to fly away.

A demon specifically targeting executioners. Exorcists that disposed of demons permanently. Still unknown what it looks like but thought to be possessing a human. Everyone was on red alert. A thin layer of stress was coating the order like wax on a paper cup.

There was something out there tonight. He looked out into the darkness, trying to get a sense of what it was. He reached into his pocket and held onto the small ring he kept in it.

What’s out there? Could it really be that dangerous?

There was a long period of observation, the human feeling the situation from subconscious clues and the demon smelling and observing the shadowy outline. The calm before the storm was sickeningly sweet, with the quiet fall breeze moving the colorful hair around.

Patience was never the forte of either demons or humans.

Roman jumped backwards onto the balcony.

“I know you’re there.” He said. “Why are you watching?”

A weight landed in front of him on the marble railing. A man about his age who could pass for a human if he tried appeared with long black nails and dark purple hair and a patched hoodie and jeans so distressed you could have sworn he just stepped out of a war zone and then haphazardly sewn some purple flannel over half the holes. His slightly pointed ears and sharp teeth gave him away. His eyes were pitch black and unreadable. As if his pupils had become so surprised they’d gone and consumed the iris and whites of the eye.

For a moment the two men just stared at each other. The demon was squatting on the railing so they were at the same eye level but then he slowly stood up and looked down at the well to do exorcist, a careful calculating look on his face. The bright dyed red hair of the human popped in the light coming from inside and stood in contrast to the well tailored casual clothes he was wearing. A jacket and button up combo that only the upper middle class could afford. A single piercing went through his eyebrow with unknown symbols carved into it.

“So what is the exorcist waiting for? An invitation?” the demon finally said with a sinister smile on his face. “I would think someone as talented as you wouldn’t need one.”

Roman pulled his left hand out of his pocket and slipped the ring onto his middle finger in one swift motion. His upper arm hardened and extended in one instant into a blood red blade.

“ Propius non veni, rex obumbratio.” Roman said, standing in a warning stance.

“That Latin crap doesn’t work on me, man.” the demon said.

Roman dodged a kick and jabbed, almost hitting his opponent’s arm and missing by mere centimeters.

The shadow king landed behind his opponent and yanked the chain off of his neck which turned into a curved blade and short handle. He turned to strike the exorcist from behind but Roman turned around impossibly fast and stuck his blade straight through the demon’s heart.

Some dark blood was spat in Roman’s face and the demon smiled weakly.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. And I know your name. Do you know mine?”

He turned to shadow and vanished like water through sand. Roman pinched the tip of the blade with his right hand and his left arm returned to normal. He placed the ring in his left pocket.

“Virgil. The stories said you led people out of the mirror world. Why are you here? And what kind of fashion sense is that?” Roman asked the night.

The night did not answer.

“Please. Please play with me. Please?”

Virgil stood at the edge of his territory and paused at the blood line poured out in the sand as a nervous hand grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie. He turned around slowly and felt his bare feet shift in the black sand as another demon came into view.

Virgil gently put his hand on the other’s head and his touch met a mix of soft hair and dry blood from the wound in the other demon’s forehead.

“I’ll play with you when I come back, my friend.” Virgil said, a smile on his face and sadness in his voice.

The older demon wearing a blue shirt sunk away a little but smiled cheerily.

“Okay.” He said with the innocence of a child.

Virgil turned away and crossed out of his territory, heading for a portal. He resisted the urge to limp and clutch at his chest. That stupid executioner had done more damage than he’d like to admit, but that didn’t mean he could stop. This was more important than a stupid wound.

Roman fell to his knees and for a moment couldn’t breathe. After three seconds that seemed to last an eternity he gasped for air and supported himself on his hands, clinging to oxygen and in too much distress to think about how he appeared. The stone floor looked very nice and polished. Probably shouldn’t throw up on it. Throwing up on a polished floor is not what someone of his social standing does anyways.

“You came here to tell me that you had it in your reach and it didn’t die?” A cold voice spat above him.

“Please Mx. I have information. Let me give that much.” Roman said, looking up.

Cold eyes stared down at him. His supervisor moved their long hair back and tied it messily into a bun before folding their arms angrily.

“Fine. Stand up, executioner Prince. What do you have?”

Roman stood up and regained his composure, trying not to look at those steel toed boots they were wearing.

“I couldn’t kill it with one strike. It had to be a major demon. He traveled through shadows. It had to be Virgil.”

He received a quizzical look that made him want to protect his private areas.

“Virgil? The shadow guide? He has never been a threat before. If anything, he helps humans. Why would he want to suddenly come after us?”

“Mx, there has been another killing even since I got a hit on him. He’s recovered enough to fight back. Normal demons you strike them with an executioner’s blade and they disintegrate. Their very souls are ripped from reality. How did this one survive if he’s not one we’ve heard of?”

The supervisor turned away and walked slowly towards the abstract stained glass at the far end of their office. The heels of their deadly boots clicked on the floor and stopped with a kind of finality at the window.

“How’s your friend Logan doing?”

Roman held back a twitch. “He’s… improving.” He said with a tone that indicated perhaps they shouldn’t be talking about this.

“Talk to him about this. He was always the one with the solutions. Now get out of my office before I assign you to a task force or… something.”

“Whatcha drawing Virgil?” asked the bleeding demon whose brown hair was in desperate need of washing now.

“Pat, why don’t you go wash your hair in the river over there?” Virgil asked as he dipped his pen in ink and made another slash in the cloth he was marking. “You gotta stay clean or it’ll get infected.”

“But I wanna know what you’re doing!”

Virgil sighed. “If I tell you will you go wash your scalp?”

“Yeah buddy. I will.”

Virgil motioned for his friend to sit next to him on the sand and then he pointed a long black nail at the cloth and traced it along a specific line.

“See that? That’s a map. There’s the flip side of one of my rivers. There’s the human city of New York. There’s the east coast of large human country. There’s a place called Florida full of things that make no sense and there’s where a big mansion is that a bad exorcist lives in. Satisfied, Patton?”

Patton just nodded and went to do what he had promised.

Virgil’s face was hard to read because of his purely black eyes. He folded his makeshift map and took a deep breath.

“I know you wouldn’t like this, so why do I keep doing it? They did that to you. I guess that’s why. G’bye buddy.”

And he vanished into the sand.

“It’s dark as hell in here.” Roman said, stepping into an office.

“I wonder why.” said a voice from behind a desk shaped thing. “And what you would consider ‘Hell’ is actually much brighter than this.”

“Logan…”

“The light switch is to your left, by the bookcase. I think you’d remember that by now.”

Roman felt for the switch and took a moment to adjust to the light before sitting down on the small chair in front of the huge desk his friend was sitting behind.

“So what do you need? You never visit at work unless you need something.” Logan said, typing away at a typewriter with only nine keys.

“Well you’re right about that but the day ended twenty minutes ago.”

Logan felt for a watch on his right wrist and the placement of the balls near the center and on the side told him that is was indeed twenty past six.

“Oh. You’re right.” Logan grumbled.

“Don’t be so surprised.” Said Roman, a small laugh in his voice. “I’ve been known to be right from time to time.”

A ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of Logan’s mouth. “From time to time. So do you need something or not?”

“Yeah, I do.”  Roman admitted smugly.

“Well what is it?”

“You know more about the major demons than anyone else and your… condition. I know you have to open your eyes sometimes, Lo. And I know, I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I was wondering about a specific demon. One of the big ones.”

Logan’s posture became even more proper than usual and it became clear he was now focusing on his breathing.

“Would this… be the one that has been targeting executioners?” he asked.

“Yes, and I have my suspicions who it is. I’ve seen him, Logan. I think it was Virgil, the guide. He fit all the old stories. Disappearing in shadows like sand, ripped clothes, veins of black on white hands. Dead eyes like they were the void itself. It had to be him. Please, you know I’m right. I’ve got to be right.”

There was a pause.

“Yes, I think you’re right. I wish you weren’t. Is what you saw… was he wearing a distressed jacket held together with patches of purple fabric?”

Roman leapt up and took his friend’s hand.

“Yes! Yes! You’ve seen him?”

Logan sighed. “Just as dramatic as you ever were. Yes, I’ve seen him. We live in the middle of his territory. He walks around with a demon that’s almost human but not quite and has a huge gash in its head. I must admit I’ve stared at it. It’s one of the things about the mirror world that are more difficult to unsee. And there are a lot of things there that are difficult to unsee there.”

“Can you take me to him?”

“I’d rather not, Roman. Especially since we’re on the second floor right now and if I open my eyes it will look like there is a rather large pit of spiders underneath me.”

Roman began shaking a little in his expensive boots.

“Sp-spiders?”

Virgil blew a spider off the branch next to him. Creepy little thing. They weren’t any less disturbing here in the mortal world.

He fingered the crescent shaped pendant and ball chain around his neck absentmindedly, letting his nails rub together on his right hand as he gently held his left thumbnail in his mouth. He crouched in the tree and watched the old manor with its pristine white walls. This probably used to be a plantation of some kind. One where the strange human practice of slavery used to take place. Say what you want about demons, but they always give payment of some kind. They never owned each other.

There was usually only one resident here. But tonight there seemed to be two. One of whom seemed to never look around. They both felt like they were full of demonic energy of some kind, but very different. It seemed the executioner had willingly let it in while the other had taken it on involuntarily. The other one was innocent. Should he really strike tonight?

Maybe. There was time.

“If he knows where you live and somehow got past the protective barriers I set up for you then why did you ever come back here?” Logan asked, adjusting his sunglasses and then going back to feeling the raised bumps the strange device he was holding kept raising from a few clusters of holes on the end.

“Where else am I supposed to go? And you know how I work. I face danger head on.” Roman retorted.

Logan moved the device along a wall.

“All I’m saying is it could be beneficial if you were to disappear. You’ve failed to kill a demon and said demon is out to kill people of your occupation of whom there are less than two hundred in the entire world. With the way it’s going it looks like that number could be whittled down to zero and… hold on. Oh my.”

“He’s here isn’t he?” Roman said.

“Are both of you blind?”

The two humans jumped and Roman wheeled around to see the demon from last week. Roman reached into his boot and pulled out a blood red dagger which he immediately threw with deadly accuracy. Unfortunately for him, Virgil was extremely good at dodging.

“Where’s your blade hand?” Virgil asked casually landing on top of a shadow from a lamp on the wall.

“That is only supposed to be used in dire situations.” Logan said in a serious tone and turning his head to Roman for emphasis. His guess as to where Roman’s face was only ended up being off by about an inch. Roman pushed his head back into place out of annoyance.

“Can you save your couples bickering for another time?” Virgil said. “I’m kind of considering killing one of you.”

“We’re not a couple, we’re friends, and as exorcists we’re used to life threatening or even soul threatening situations. So why don’t you get on with whatever it is you’re doing?” Logan said, not wavering for a second.

“Spicy.” Virgil said, twiddling with the pendant around his neck. “I can see how you got cursed.”

Logan dropped his device and reached into his right pocket, pulling out a bright yellow stone on a ball chain like the type that would be used for dog tags.

“Et in lucem!” He said loudly and clearly.

A bright light flashed from the stone and Virgil actually found himself taking a step back. For a second all his senses went blank except for sight which was filled with a burning white. When the light cleared and his senses returned he looked around and felt. The humans had run, but not far.

How did the blind one even slow  him down?

“How did you do that!?” Roman yelled as they ran through the house, turning on every light they could reach.

“Although the curse… Ow! Roman, did you move your couch since the last time I was here?”

“No, but the maid might’ve. She does an excellent job, I don’t want her to feel bad. Wait, what were you saying?”

Logan got up from where he’d fallen and started running again.

“If you and your employees haven’t moved anything else, I’ll tell you.” he said angrily.

They ran down the stairs into the basement.

“Hold on a moment, friendo. I need help with the door. Right behind you.” Roman said.

“You’re going to get poisoned by this shelter.” Logan grumbled, but he went to help anyways.

Logan knew where everything was here. His spacial memory served him well as he found the center of the large two foot thick door and began pulling on a large handle in the center of it. The door slowly started moving out of its hole in the wall and when it was enough for Roman to put his hand on the side he started pushing on it. When there was a space wide enough for them to get behind it Roman tapped his friend’s shoulder and they got behind the huge hulking door and pushed with all their might until it finally clanged shut.

Logan panted, leaning against the door as Roman turned the wheel in the center of it to lock it shut. The seeing man slumped to the floor and weakly reached up to press a black button on the wall that turned on floodlights that filled every corner of the bunker with light.

“So, the light? That, what was that stone?”

Logan swallowed. “Well, the curse, the curse may make it only possible to see the demon’s world but… I think it helps with spell casting. I’ve grown stronger at the cost of real sight. And they say being hurt emotionally makes you better at magic. You know I‘ve never been one for strong emotions but…”

Logan choked on his words and pulled off his sunglasses to rub at his face. He opened his eyes and Roman was glad Logan couldn’t see him wince at the burn marks around his eyes and the milky whiteness of his pupils.

“But you can open your eyes here.” Roman said, putting his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “We’re underground. There’s nothing to see.”

Logan’s voice broke as he said “We’ve had this conversation a thousand times you half-wit. And there’s a… a demon out there, trying to take you from us and… oh God. Not now.”

Tears started flowing.

“Why now? Why here?” Logan begged as he hugged his knees on the floor.

Roman let him take a moment. He would have liked hugs and kind nothings whispered if that were him, but he had learned over the years that Logan wasn’t like that. He just needed a moment to compose himself.

After a moment there was a deep breath and Logan replaced his sunglasses.

“The stone was a citrine. One that actually came from the sun. They’re pretty rare. Now, how’re the spells?”

He stood up and walked to a double sided bookcase in the center of the room. He started touching the spines, reading them.

Roman sighed and tapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m right here, genius. It’s faster if you just tell me the book you’re looking for.”

“Oh, right.” Logan stopped touching the books with a hand gesture that suggested mild embarrassment.  “Banishing spells level alpha, 30th edition.”

Roman searched for about two seconds, saw the braille copy, and then pulled it out and dropped it onto the dining table sitting next to them. It landed with a loud slam, as it was about as tall as an atlas and as thick as an unabridged dictionary.

“Remind me again how you memorized over half of this.” Roman said.

Logan started feeling for page numbers and said “Unlike some people, I actually studied at academy instead of trying to steal from the armory.”

“I take that as a personal offense.” Roman said. “You’re getting better at that. Well done.”

Logan presumably found the page he was looking for and started reading it.

“I worry about where your priorities lie.”

Virgil considered the door carefully. There was all kinds of messy stuff painted on it in multiple languages. Latin, ancient Greek, old English, old Norse, several hieroglyphs from African, North and South American languages. He even recognized a little bit of old Mesopotamian. The Mesopotamians were older than him. Where did the humans get all this stuff?

Well whatever all this said it was obviously spells meant to keep demons out. Darn them. He couldn’t even sense any darkness inside. Except for… it was risky. Would it be worth it?

Of course. It had to be. It had to be.

Logan gestured for Roman to come over and he ran his hand over a specific type of pentagram symbol made out of dots.

“Can you make it out? Do we need to look in the regular print one?” Logan asked.

“No, I can make it out” Roman responded. “Where’s that one?”

“On the bookcase. See if it’s intact.” Logan ordered.

Logan heard a couple of clicks of boots on the tile floor and then an uneasy “Uh, Lo?”

Logan sighed. “What now?”

“It’s sort of bleeding. Black. And the center’s smudging as I’m looking at it.”

Logan hit his fist against the desk. “Crap. Well perhaps we should…”

There was a grinding sound of something metal being pulled apart and books hitting the floor. Logan gripped the side of the table as he felt the temperature in the room drop. A magical whoosh came from where Roman had been standing.

“Roman? Did you put on the ring? Roman!”

Logan got no answer but heard metal hitting metal and then metal hitting wood. Crap. Roman had attacked him. He can’t shoot a spell at that. While Roman is using that blade he’s susceptible to spells meant for demons.

Logan picked up the huge book and began running with it. He felt air move and dodged something. What, he did not know, but he managed to reach the door and through pure adrenaline rush turn the handle and yank it open with one arm.

It still took him several seconds though, long enough for something in the battle behind him to change and his shirt collar to be grabbed. He tried throwing the book behind him but he couldn’t aim correctly and in a moment he felt long nails pushing into his wrists and some shaped piece of metal fitting perfectly around the curve of his neck. Whoever was holding him smelled like fresh rain and tobacco smoke mixed with axe deodorant.

“Listen to what I have to say, and the witch doesn’t get dragged into the mirror world.” Virgil hissed.

Logan heard the sound of a blade scraping slowly on metal. It seemed like Roman was running his blade arm along the bookcase to think. Logan scoffed, feigning confidence.

“Honestly, who calls us witches anymore? And you wouldn’t open a portal here. We’re underground. And if you make a move towards the stairs he’ll strike.”

The blade came closer to his neck. It was in danger of breaking skin. Logan knew too well what that felt like.

“Would it be so hard for the scholar to shut his mouth please?” Virgil said. “I just have something to say.”

Logan wanted to swallow but was afraid that could push the blade into his throat enough to do damage to it. He remembered that five years ago he would have been looking. Noticing every tiny detail. He would be able to read Roman’s face and know exactly what was needed and why. They could communicate with their eyes. He could see where to aim if a spell was needed but now nothing. If he opened his eyes here all he saw was darkness.

“What do you have to say, Virgil?” came Roman’s voice.

“Oh, so you figured out who I am. Surprised much?”

“Not really. Well, don’t know why you’re doing this.”

The blade relaxed and Logan dared himself to take deeper breaths. The voice behind him was laced with a deep frustration.

“You… I overreacted to something. Badly.”

“You murdered ten of my coworkers.” Roman said forcefully.

“Like I said, I might have overreacted.” Virgil said.

“You don’t exactly sound sorry.” Logan growled.

“Will the witch please shut his mouth?” Logan heard as the blade began resting against his skin again and the nails buried themselves deeper into his wrists.

“So what do you want? Just let him go.” Roman demanded.

“Well what I want is the head of every executioner in convenient carrying bags that I can throw into the pit of spiders.” Virgil hissed, getting a shudder out of Logan, “But I can see now that might not be the best course of action, or what Patton would want me to do.”

Logan’s breathing slowed and his heart sank. He wished he could see what Roman’s face looked like. Probably not as defeated as his own. Roman didn’t see. Didn’t see what happened on the other side.

After a painful pause Virgil continued.

“Patton is a friend. He’s a very good friend. A mentor or… something along those lines. He’s the reason I started helping humans out in the first place. One of your filth tried to kill him because he made a mistake. And now he’s worse than dead. There’s nothing left there. He doesn’t remember one day to the next. I need you to fix him. Both of you.”

“Why in the Hell do you think we would help you? I don’t kill without cause but you sure seem to be doing your best to give me a reason.” Roman hissed.

“I thought you might say that, so I took the time to figure out something that might give you a little motivation.”

Roman looked over at his best friend since grade school and reached out and took his hand. Logan didn’t shy away, most likely knowing this was more for Roman than himself.

“You don’t have to do this for me, Roman.” Logan said.

“It’s important to you, so it’s important to me. I know I tend to be selfish but… you want this. I can tell.”

“If that’s what you want.” Logan said simply.

Virgil continued kicking around in the dirt.

“Uh, just like me to forget to leave a marker. Where in the Earth did I… oh. I should probably pay more attention to that.”

He kicked a fake bush over with his bare foot and revealed a small hole that seemed to be covered with purple plastic wrap.

“Wait a minute. The witch could have opened his eyes and told me where it is. What…”

“Do you think I have no sense of humor?” Logan asked.

The king of darkness smiled, showing his pointed needle-like teeth.

“Oh, you are going to live to regret that, Logan.” he said. “Well, everybody in.”

He jumped into the hole and the cling wrap looking cover didn’t move for an instant as he disappeared into it. Roman led Logan to the hole and he jumped in. Roman took a moment and then followed suit.

He immediately fell over, but it was like falling over after standing on your head. He looked up and saw he had fallen feet first out of the largest dead tree he had ever seen.

“Roman? Oh my.”

Roman turned around and Logan had removed his sunglasses. His eyes were still burned and the pupils were still milky white but he was… looking at him.

“You… you’ve got a scar on your arm.”

Nothing more had to be said. Logan could only see this world, so when he was here he could use his sight. Virgil gestured for them to follow.

Logan was right, Roman decided. Hell isn’t that dark. Well, this wasn’t technically Hell but it was close enough. The sun was a burning red like it was dying. Virgil kept jumping in front of them to prevent them from falling in hidden holes or canyons filled with magma or insects or any other number of unsavory things. The shrubbery and trees all seemed to be watching. Low level demons whether humanoid or animistic ran away in Virgil’s presence and if they dared to come close he hissed and pulled the chain off his neck turning it into a scythe or curved sword depending on the threat. Several monkey-like green things tried to carry Logan and Roman off several times but they could fend for themselves against small demons and so far Virgil had kept his promise and helped them when they needed it.

They walked for over an hour like this, mostly in silence. After the first hour attacks became less frequent as the landscape became more barren. Roman asked something that had been on his mind.

“Virgil? Is this what your daily commute consists of?”

“I was wondering that as well.” Logan chimed in. “I have seen you occasionally when I opened my eyes by accident or by choice and you seem to cover a large area.”

Virgil jumped off a ledge but held his sword out to stop the humans from following him. He calmly struck the head off of a cat-like thing and then gestured for the other two to follow him.

“Shadow travel. Humans can’t do it.” He said and then kept leading the way.

“So, how many humans have you led through here?” Roman asked, shaking a little green goblin off of him and fending it off with a red knife.

Virgil shrugged as Logan murmured a spell that made the goblin shoot off of Roman like a rocket.

“A few thousand probably? I don’t count.” the demon said before starting a climb up a small rocky ledge.

When they reached the top of the ledge Logan looked like he was about ready to pass out and Roman was rubbing his hands and trying not to think about if any part of him was bleeding.

“Home sweet home. This way.” Virgil said.

He led them through a small grove of black and purple trees, crouching and looking around every so often like demons tend to do and then led them to a wide expanse covered in black sand. A river of lava on one far end and a river of what looked like water on the other. Both rivers were so far away you could just spot them if you climbed a tall tree and shielded your eyes from the red sunlight.

Virgil led them through the course sand for about a mile, bringing them through another grove of trees and finally to a battered old house that seemed to be made of planks of black wood and a lot of hope.

“Why doesn’t it fall down?” Logan asked, clearly concerned.

Virgil just shrugged and jumped forward, landing right in front of the door. The humans had to run to get there as he opened it and they were told to get inside.

The inside was plain. The walls had small holes and the floor was stone. There was a small pile of bones in the corner, some of unknown shapes. There were pieces of paper, pens, and canvas stacked against another wall and along another there was a pile of rags with a sleeping figure on it.

Virgil put his necklace on and then tenderly approached the bed. He gently rocked the shoulder of the person lying there.

“Hey buddy. Hey. Hi. We’ve got some visitors.”

There was a sniff. “Hmmm? Humans?”

“Yes buddy, humans. Can you say hi?”

The groggy figure that sat up seemed to be both more and less human looking than his friend. His brown hair was matted with dry blood. His red and brown eyes seemed strangely human, especially in comparison to Virgil’s whose eyes were just blank. He wore a neat blue dress shirt and cargo pants with formal shoes. He wore a cardigan over his dress shirt that was far too big for him and would have made him look cozy were it not for the light blue color of his veins. His nails weren’t nearly as long as Virgil’s but they ended in a point and looked like they could easily cause some lasting damage.

“Hi.” It said. “Are we friends?”

“Well we just met your acquaintance but…” Logan began before Roman stepped on his foot.

“Uh, I mean… Yes of course. You must be Patton.” Logan said, trying to not express his pain.

“You can see.” Patton said before trying to lay back down and sleep again.

Virgil pulled him up a little forcefully. “You can’t sleep right now.” He said firmly.

Usually that blank face was unreadable but at this moment even with black eyes the shadow demon looked both incredibly concerned and dangerously hopeful. Patton fell asleep in his grip.

He let out a sigh. “All he does is sleep and mess around now. He’s like a human little kid and he can’t remember things from one day to the next. I really want to blame you but he wouldn’t want me to do that. Fix him. Make him better.”

The force in those last words made the exorcists take a step back. Some of the light in the dim little shack ran away in fear and it became even more dim. Black tears fell out of  Virgil’s eyes and the shadows started to move.

“Make it better! Fix what you did!” He demanded.

Both humans were frightened by the sudden change but kept their composure. The prize here outweighed the risk. They had discussed this beforehand. Find a way to fix the head wound and Virgil would stop killing executioners. If Patton returned to normal afterwards, there was a chance Logan could see blue skies again.

Logan stepped forward and took his satchel off of his shoulder, trying not to make any sudden movements. Further enraging an already angry demon is beyond suicidal.

He knelt on the hot floor next to Patton and made him sit up. There was a sleepy questioning hum and then the red and then the red and brown eyes opened sleepily.

“Hi.” he said groggily. “You’re a human.”

“Yes, and I’m here to help.” Logan said firmly but gently. “Can you hold yourself up?”

Patton nodded and did what he was told. Logan looked back at Roman who nodded and pulled a hidden red knife out of his belt.

“Liar!” Virgil exclaimed as Roman found a sickle at his throat.

“It’s not for your blood!” Logan said. “It’s for Roman’s! Put that away or he stays like this!”

After an intense moment Virgil slowly lowered his weapon and turned it back into a moon pendant before putting it back on.

Logan started murmuring in several dead languages, blending them together and making a hypnotic chanting sound as he wrapped a blue and silver cloth around Patton’s eyes and then over his head. Roman knelt next to him and rolled up his sleeve. He waited for Logan to stop chanting before handing him the magic knife.

“Just get it over with.” He said, covering his eyes with the other arm.

He bit back a cry of pain as the cursed blade swiped across his skin, stinging like acid and moving through his veins. He only dared to open his eyes when it was bandaged.

Virgil was putting on the bandages. Roman gave a confused look.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Virgil asked. “Getting a taste off your own medicine?”

“I’ve gotten it before.” Roman said, looking over.

They sat in the far corner of the room, watching Logan work with copper beads covered in Roman’s blood. Watched the wrapping and unwrapping of the wound several times and various stones being used.

“Is there any kind of sense to what he’s doing?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Oh now you talk?” Roman asked skeptically. “You want my head on a plate, remember Coraline?”

“Coraline?” The demon asked.”

“You know. With the button eyes and.. oh never mind.”

“Button eyes?” Virgil asked. “Like as in, those things on your shirt being eyes?”

“Well they’re large and black but yes.”

“That’s really disturbing. I do not want to see that.” Virgil said, disgust in his voice.

“Disturbing?” Roman asked. “Look who’s talking. Look where you live.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know, humans have been trying to point that out to me for centuries when they accidentally end up here. How horrifying it is. The only reason so many things ever attack humans is because they’re humans. When demons go into the mortal world they’re attacked because they’re demons. It can be frightening and stupid. Aren’t there exorcists that lead peaceful demons back or something? Kind of what I do in reverse? This is just a place. The mirror world is just a place. There are things to be afraid of both places. If someone likes you, if they hate you, if your clothes are going to fall apart, if you’re gong to eat tomorrow. All the same thing.”

“Sorry I think I fell asleep for a second, what was that, Tim Burton?” Roman said, a smug grin on his face.

“Oh screw off.” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Looks like he’s almost finished and… Hey!”

Virgil used Roman as a rest to push himself up on and leapt to the other side of the room.

“Your stupid nails dug into my scalp!” Roman exclaimed.

Nobody was paying him any attention. That was the problem with other people being hurt. They always got the spotlight.

Patton yawned and opened his eyes. He felt like he had just woken up from a bad dream he couldn’t quite remember, which was strange because demons dreaming is a rare thing indeed

There was a familiar pair of black eyes with a hopeful look that he had never seen before.

“Hey kiddo. What am I doing at your house?” He asked. “Do I smell an exe- oh!”

Virgil had engulfed the older spirit in a bone crushing hug and was breathing too hard. His face was one of shock and he gripped his friend’s hair and held on for dear life.

“I didn’t know you gave hugs.” Patton said happily. “What’s the big fuss? And your nails, buddy. The… the nails.”

The shadow demon let go out of embarrassment and seemed to mentally curl in on himself. “Sorry, Pat. You’ve just been gone for a while. Maybe I have been too.”

“Gone!? You killed five percent of the executioners on the force!” Roman exclaimed. “And…”

“Easy, Roman. It’s in the nature of demons. That’s what a temper tantrum looks like.” Logan said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

A quick explanation and a long trek through the same territory later, all four of them stood at the portal. Patton was giving his younger friend a death glare that reminded both humans of when Logan’s mother got particularly “disappointed”.

“Say it.” Patton said firmly.

“I’m… I’m sorry for attacking you, and killing your coworkers. And stealing your sewing supplies to alter my clothes” Virgil said, reluctance in his words.

“And I’m sorry for stabbing you in the chest and that one of my friends hurt your friend.” Roman said with a similar tone of defiance.

“Now, about my eyes…” Logan started.

“Oh yeah.” Virgil said.

He dug around in his hoodie pockets and pulled out a sheathed knife and handed it to Patton.

“Awww. You hung onto it for me?!” Patton squealed.

“Yup. I definitely prefer angry demons.” Logan said in disgust.

Patton unsheathed the blade which was leaf shaped and about the size of his hand. It was rainbow like and changed colors with the angle you looked at it like oil on asphalt.

“This is gonna look a little dangerous but just go with it, okay?” Patton said.

“I have my suspicions but very well. I have a trained exorcist executioner with me and I’m already blind in the other world so what do I have to lose?” Logan said.

“Close your eyes.” Patton said.

He pushed the flat of the blade against each eye putting gentle pressure on it for a few seconds and then told Logan to open his eyes. They had pupils again.

“You conspired with a demon? Two demons? One of them the fiend that’s been killing our kind?” The superior asked.

Logan tried his hardest not to look down at Roman clutching at his stomach on the ground. This was not how he wanted to spend his first day with his normal sight back. In the basement of a stone church where no sunlight could get in while his friend got kicked repeatedly with a fashionable pair of steel toed boots. Honestly, disciplinary action for executioners had to be mended. All other departments had gotten rid of physical punishment ages ago.

“Mx,” Logan said, trying to stay professional. “if I may, we have solved the issue, and preserved a valuable resource for humans that might wander into the…”

“I don’t wanna hear your intellectual mumbo jumbo silver tongue right now, Sanders. You got your sight back, congratulations, but you acted against orders to do it. You and Prince here are in a world of trouble. If I could take a knife to your skin too I would.”

Logan adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses with his middle finger and then helped his friend up.

“You’re welcome, for solving your little problem. I’ll see my supervisor later.” Logan said coldly.

He put one of Roman’s arms over his shoulders and supported him on their way out.

They paused at the church doors. The abstract stained glass shone all around them like a kaleidoscope. Roman had recovered enough to stand on his own but still clutched at his side.

“So nerd, are you ready to see the sky again? It’s about dawn.

“The pollution in this area should make the sunrise nice to watch.” Logan said, still not opening the door.

“Just like you to take the fun out of it. Go ahead. You’ve waited half a decade for this. You always talk about logic. Is it logical for you to not look?”

Logan flung the doors open and he had remembered correctly. They did face east. And he had never felt so much melancholy and happiness before now.

“He’s very sorry!” Patton called out as he and Virgil ran through trees.

“That’s not going to help anything Pat.” Virgil hissed as he pulled him inside the shadow of a tree and they flattened out. “Humans work differently. Especially exorcists. Why don’t you get that? Do humans ever summon us to make friends?”

“I always hope they will.” Patton murmured.

“Aha!” came a voice.

“Oh for the love of… move!” Virgil ordered, pushing the other demon along.

He could hide in the shadows but not move through them. What had they sprayed him with? If only he could have enough time to open a portal, or teleport or anything other than keep running.

It was all a blur. A missed shot. A flash of red blade. Patton jumping out of instinct. An already dark red blade dripping with even more blood. For the second time in his life Virgil saw his friend’s blood be absorbed into one of those accursed things but this time there was no movement. The axe hit just the right spot on the chest that even the strongest of demons couldn’t escape. He melted into the ground, leaving behind a pile of clothes, a blue and red stain, and his dagger.

There was a demonic screaming so loud and ungodly that Virgil could hardly believe it was coming out of his own mouth. He yanked the pendant off of his neck and began to move in a daze. The executioner with the axe fell, her chest cut clean open, the witch ran but but couldn’t escape. The marksman was shot through the mouth with his own gun and the two executioner trainees fell over, one of them bled out, the other was left with a broken leg.

Just as Virgil crushed their weapons and was about to hit the teen with a final blow he froze, his curved sword hovering above his head, ready to strike.

“No.” he murmured. “Stop. Breathe. It’s not too late.”

He put down his weapon and looked down at the trembling human. A normal apology wouldn’t work here. Humans typically didn’t go in killing sprees when something shocking happened. He had learned that the hard way.

“Your mentor killed my mentor.” He sighed. “I overreacted again.”

No response. Just blank terror.

“I’m going to take you to a hospital. Understand?” Virgil said, kneeling down. “A hospital. With doctors and hopefully therapists.”

To his surprise the young man allowed him to pick him up and carry him quickly to an emergency room parking lot.

“Now if you yell for help someone should probably come. I don’t…”

He couldn’t finish his statement so he just disappeared instead.

“I heard Logan disappeared.”

Roman jumped out of his skin and dropped the book he had been staring at.

“Demo- Virgil?” Roman said.

“That was pretty sudden.” Virgil said from the top of a table in Roman’s private library.

“What are you doing here?” Roman asked. “I’ve done nothing.”

“You’re reading.” Virgil noted.

“What of it?”

“What happened to Logan?”

Roman stared off into the distance for almost half a minute and then sucked in a breath through his nose.

“I haven’t seen him. At first I assumed he was just not keeping in touch. There’s a lot to go see after all, and work to do. But no one else has seen him either. It’s all very anticlimactic. I hate anticlimactic.”

“Patton’s dead.” Virgil said, chocking on the last word.

Roman didn’t move. “Why are you coming to me? One of the few humans who could kill you?”

“Because I overreacted again and I don’t know anyone else that would listen. He was my only friend. Where else do I go. It took me long enough to get myself to come here.”

“You?” Roman asked. “You are one of the ten most powerful spirits in history. A legend. The poet Virgil was named after you. And… you had difficulty approaching a human?”

“I have some issues.” Virgil murmured. “One of which is that my friend and mentor is dead, Mr. Prince. How in the Earth am I supposed to move on from that?”

“I don’t know if my best friend is alive.” Roman said. “You just got him back. Mine just got his sight back. And they’re gone.”

“No kidding, Sherlock.”

“Oh, so you do know something about human culture.”

“How can you sound so smug at a time like this?”

“Misery is the source of all comedy Jason Demon, that’s how.”

“I’m not Jason.”

“If you’re going to be bothering me you really need to learn more pop culture things because I reference them like all the time.”

People disappeared sometimes. It was always anticlimactic. Only a select few knew what happened afterwards. Those who were heard from again never said what happened.

Logan stared at the wall of the square cell. He had disappeared he supposed. No idea where he was or what exactly his charges were. Being blind had been much better than this. He could move and find meaning. If only there was more to tell.

Well, an unremarkable end to a boring life perhaps. No, his life hadn’t been boring. Thinking it had been anything other than extraordinary would be illogical.

“Let me help you. I know this guy.” Virgil urged, following Roman by walking along tree branches.

“No. I need to do this myself. Besides, if my superiors find out I’ve befriended a demon I could very well disappear and if I die before my time I want it to be dramatic.” Roman said.

“Who said we’re friends?” Virgil asked with a smirk.

“You visit my house regularly. I’ve cried in your arms. We fight things together and talk crap about human celebrities. What more is there?” Roman said.

“It’s only been six months. What’s that to humans? A hundred years?”

“Roughly.”

“Damn. You drop like flies. I’m gonna miss you I think. You’re like a puppy I’ve become attached to.”

“What kind of puppy?” Roman said playfully.

“A bloodhound.”

“Are you serious?” Roman said, completely solemn, “I’m clearly a poodle.”

That almost made Virgil fall right out of the tree.

“Now get lost. I kill things like this all the time without your help.”

“Okay I’ll just die of boredom then.” Virgil said before slipping into the shadows like falling sand.

Roman smiled and continued walking. The guide of the underworld could pretend he wasn’t dramatic all he wanted but that didn’t make it true.

Virgil slumped back on his pile of rags. He traced the edge of the dagger Patton had left behind. It changed color in the light just like it always did.

What was six months to a human?

Roman had told him the first six months is the hardest. Was that true? What about now? What about Roman? As aloof as he acted he was actually becoming pretty fond of the stupid over the top exorcist.

He really could be that dangerous, but still Virgil worried about him. He only had this friend for a small amount of time, and in that time he was destined to watch him wither away.

In the best case scenario of course.

Roman threw a dagger at the green tiger thing. It dodged. Crap.

He pulled out his ring and his upper left arm turned into a blood sword. The tiger snarled, smelling small amounts of demonic qualities. A traitor.

It pounced but Roman dodged, rolling away and missing the claws by inches. The tiger drooled and it’s saliva fizzled on the ground leaving dead patches. Perfect. just perfect.

Virgil showed up out of the shadows. He saw Roman and immediately thought he was in danger. He ran to help but then there was a squeak.

A puddle of green and black melted into the ground and ROman looked up.

“Did you follow me here? That’s… kind of rude.”

“No. I just knew where you were. That blade hand?”

Roman looked down at his arm. “What about it?”

“It hurts a lot. And it’s creepy.”

“Your face is creepy.” Roman said, pulling the ring off and looking in disgust at his pus covered arm. “Disgusting. I’ll need a shower at once. Goodnight, my friend. Please stop spying on me.”

Roman heard Virgil call over “We’re not friends, ape!”

“Whatever you say, poet.” Roman said, pulling a towel out of his bag.

“What do stones even do?” Virgil asked, flipping through bags. “Ugh. here’s the one that almost blinded me.”

“Nobody would be able to tell if you were blind.” Roman mumbled.

“Can we have one meeting where you don’t poke fun at my eyes?”

“Admit the sword hand is really cool.” Roman said, placing another braille book on the growing stacks on the bunker dining table.

“No. You became less human to be able to do that. It’s really disturbing.” Virgil said, flipping through a book.

“How do you read these?” he added in.

“Oh.” Roman said pausing for a moment. “It’s called braille. It’s a way to read by touching when eyesight is lost.”

He ran his hands along an otherwise blank cover.

“Phillis Wheatley. Well maybe I’ll keep this one. I don’t want to imagine I spent two years learning braille with him for nothing.”

“Why are you only going through his stuff he left here now?” Virgil asked. “I went through Patton’s house right away in case scavengers went through it. He had an actual house.”

“Maybe because I’m not a demon?” Roman asked.

Virgil recognized that sound. It was choking back a sob. Oh gods what is he supposed to do here? That comment stung a little but… oh no. Now he’s crying. What happens now? And, he dropped the books. Oh no. Now he has to say something.

“What… what do I…”

No, he’s not answering. He’s still crying. What does he need? Warmth? Virgil can’t provide that. He’s cold like ice. Understanding? He can’t give that. They may be friends now but it wasn’t like they could understand each other. What… what do you do?

“Do uh…”

Oh gosh is he about to attempt compassion? Ew. Abort. Abort! But there’s nowhere to escape here. The bookcase is still mangled and not providing any shade now the books are mostly gone. A friend. What would Patton do here? Probably hug. That’s not Virgil’s style. What is his style? Patton always told him what he needed. Humans don’t always do that.

“I’m sorry.”

Virgil looked up. Was Roman actually apologizing for something? He was. Roman Prince, the most narcissistic asshole he had ever befriended was apologizing for… crying?

“Why are you…”

“I’m supposed to be unshakable. But I suppose… when the ten months actually came I didn’t want it to. I thought…”

Roman gripped a huge spellbook in his hands and then clutched it to his chest and held on as if it could bring Logan back.

“Surely he would be one of the ones that came back. Logan can’t just disappear and die in such an anticlimax. That’s not what he does. Not what he… did. That’s not how he did things. He would go on his own terms. Not… whatever it is they do when people disappear. It happens so rarely these days we never thought..”

“You were putting off grieving for Logan.” Virgil realized.

“I suppose I was, now that I think about it.”

Roman woke up one morning strapped to a chair.

“Where…”

“Roman Prince, you have been charged with having personal relations with a demon and concealing your lineage.”

Roman couldn’t see anything. There was a bright light on him and the rest was darkness. It reminded him of being on stage as a young man. The audience can see you, but you can’t see the audience.

“How do you plead?”

“Am I being made to disappear?” Roman asked.

“How do you plead?”

“Where did you find proof of this?”

“How do you plead?”

“Get me my lawyer!”

There was a crash and a scream. Gunshots fired and there was the sound of an axe hitting stone. In a moment the lights turned back on and something cut the ropes tying him to the chair. Roman looked back.

There he was. In those stupid overly distressed black and purple clothes with patches all over them. He was like a badass emo ragdoll or something. He even had the blank button eyes.

“Prince doesn’t go quietly. Not on my watch.” Virgil said.

“Have there ever been darker angels than you?” Roman asked, standing up and rubbing his wrists.

“Save your painfully dramatic gratitude for later and start running, moron.”

They leapt through trees and over houses, never slowing down for a second. Finally sprinting down country roads, Virgil melting in and out of the darkness as Roman ran coming back every so often to get updates.

“Keep going. I don’t think you’re demon enough for me to shadow travel with you.”

“They’re a mile behind. You do use miles here, right?”

“And you complain about the weather in Gehenna. How is Florida this humid at night?

And on for several miles. Roman saved his breath and didn’t yell at the demon for his stupid commentary, but it was tempting.

They finally reached the manor house and Roman frantically began packing. Virgil even put on a backpack, a new experience for him, to carry a few spellbooks in braille they had set aside for an event like this.

“Is it possible to ever be comfortable wearing one of these?” The shadow king said as he struggled to adjust the straps without breaking a nail.

“No, let’s go!” Roman said, dragging Virgil outside.

Virgil hissed and panicked and Roman quickly let go of the demon’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t like it when I touch you.”

Virgil took a moment to compose himself and then led Roman to a portal nearby. He gave roman permission to take his hand and they jumped through the purple cling wrap together.

Roman picked his nails with his knife, sitting on Virgil’s pile of rags.

“So why can’t you try to shadow travel with me?” He asked.

Virgil sighed. “I have told you way too many times. You’re only one sixteenth demonic. Probably less. It won’t work.”

“Oh you’re no fun.” Roman pouted. “You always think everything could end up in death or dismemberment.”

“Because it can.” Virgil responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you want to help me while I’m on the run?” Roman asked skeptically.

“Well… what are friends for?”

“Aha! So you admit that we’re friends!” Roman exclaimed dramatically.

“You know one of these days I’m gonna lose my patience and straight up eat you.”

“And I’m certain I will be delicious.” Roman said, a classy smile on his face.

“Nah, I won’t eat you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re all we have left.” Virgil said solemnly.

Roman let out a dark chuckle. “And to think I stabbed you through the heart the first time we met.”

“I’m still sorry for all those killings.”

“I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

Virgil leaned against the wall. Roman couldn’t help but smile when that mouth curved upwards and showed just the smallest hint of pointed teeth.

They had no idea how, but it was going to be okay.

[ishouldprobablybewriting]

Nanowrimo Preview

Sooooo, I decided to attempt Nanowrimo. I’m total shit at it but.... eh. Whatever. Also the story is shit, but Imma put it on here anyways.

Cassandra and Karen decide to take their fall break to a cabin in the Apalachian mountains. Cassi finds an attractive man who wont speak to her (or rather he finds her), and an attractive man who will talk to her (and calls her “Cher”) and a cute little puppy with bright blue eyes. And that;s all before things get exciting. 

Basically, this is shitty self insert fanservice. With attractive paranormal people and lots of sex. So.... 

18 and over only please.

WC: 3412

“Karen’s Whore House. You got the dough, we got the hoe. How may I direct your call?”

It was 3:05 on the dot, November 16th. The high school bell had just rang and Cassandra was finally free. Well, for ten days at least. She was probably more excited about the short, Fall break than any of her students. And, of course, the first order of business was to call Karen, the bestie. A grin spread across her face at the teasing tone.

“Is Karen there? It’s a hoe-mergancy,” said Cassandra, playing along.

“This is the Madam speaking.”

“Oh! Perfect! I’m hoe-ping you can help me.”

Karen stifled a laugh at the pun. “We can handle all matters, small and big.”

“Wonderful. Because I need someone large, broad and tattooed. Oh! And maybe a nice beard? I’m gonna need something nice to ride.”

That was the last straw. They both busted out laughing. Cassi hit her turn signal and continued down the long country highway back into the city. Once the laughter died down, Cassi let out a small excited squeal. “When are we leaving?”

Karen groaned a bit as she rolled out of bed, a small thunk heard in the background as her feet hit the floor. “Uh, I was thinking we could get dinner, wait out some of the traffic then head up after dark. “

“Perfect. Just lemme get home and make sure I’ve got everything and then I’ll head that way.”

With music blaring in the small gray suv, time passed quickly. As Cassi pulled up to the residential school Karen lived and worked at, she shot a quick “Here bitch” text in lieu of honking the horn.  Karen opened the back passenger door and slid her bags into the seat and floorboard.

“I’m so fucking ready to be out of this place.”

“Same. But first- foods.”

Karen half moaned her agreement.

“Where?”

“Cock-Out?” Karen suggested.

“Eh. Taco Hell?”

“Not before a road trip.”

“Valid point,” Cassi nodded.

“Oh!” Karen perked up, plugging her phone charger into the carport, “How about Zaxby’s?”

Cassi grinned as she put her car into reverse. “Sounds good to me!” She pulled out and headed towards the restaurant while Karen put on their road trip playlist. The two had decided, since their typical “Friendsgiving” plans had fallen through with the rest of their friends away with familial obligations, that they would take a trip to the mountains about two hours north of their small city to spend their break drinking, eating and enjoying the cool weather. If they were lucky, maybe they'd be enjoying a man or two as well.

After getting fuel for both themselves and the car as well as a few drinks and snacks for the road. Two and a half hours later the two pulled into the tiny town that boasted a fair bit of tourism depending on the season. Most of which were romantic getaways, honeymoons and the like, occasionally a biker club or caravan would stop for the night on their way through.

They pulled over at the largest of the town’s- of Aberdeenvalle’s- three gas stations.  Cassi stretched letting out a long, low moan. “Uggghhhhhhhaaa. Oi.” She shook out her clothes and arched her feet a bit. Karen mimicked with her own stretch and groan combination, adding a small yawn.

“Alright. Should be just a few miles from the check in place but I’m not sure how far the actual cabin is. I know it’s past all the newer camping sites.”

Cassi nods at Karen, who planned the whole trip, and shivers a bit as a cool wind blows past them. The early evening got cold fast in the Appalachian Mountains and Cassi was still in a thin gray cotton t-shirt and cute cuffed jean shorts. Karen was much more ready for the temperature in a thick red wrap and dark wash jeans. They enter the small store laughing and karen heads towards the bathroom in the back corner. Cassi grabs another large bottle of water, a few packs of jerky and walks to the counter to pay for that and the gas. The young guy behind the register nodded to her giving a standard “Hello, how are you today?”

“Hello,” Cassi smiled “And 15 on three, please.” She placed her items on the counter. He began ringing them up. “Other than leaf watching and drinking, what is there to do around here?”

He looked up at her, “Ya’ll stayin’?”

“Yep! Whole week.”

“Hmmm....” he handed her her receipt, “Not much” he shrugged. “If ya like to walk, there's a park with a nice hiking trail. Just don’t stay too close to nightfall.”

Cassi scrunched her face up and tilted her head a bit at his strange and vague warning but thanked him nonetheless as Karen joined her grabbing the bag and heading back out to the car.

“What was that all about?” Karen asks.

“I dunno,” Cassi shrugged, “Asked about shit to do, got a ‘don’t go out alone at night’ instead.” She grinned at her friend, one side of her face lifting and showing her teeth, “I mean, what kind of woman does he take me for? How else am I supposed to have fun?” Karen laughed with her.

“Slut,” she shot at Cassi.

“I know.”

They climbed back up into the car and slowly drove the last 20 minutes deeper into the mountains and pulled up to a large two story, wooden cabin with a brightly lit front porch and a small wooden sign with “Merritt Cabins and Camping” carven into it. A worn layer of paint making the letters stand out. Parking and turning off the engine, the girls smile and quickly jog up the steps to check in. An older man greets them in the spacious lobby.

He smiled gently, “Welcome ladies!” His shoulders were once broad and thick but his body now shrunk due to age. He had graying hair, cropped close to his tan wrinkled skin, soft dark eyes and a slight hunch, leaning on the polished wood slab counter. He was wholly warm and welcoming. Cassi, for one, was glad. She wasn’t sure quite what to expect. She trusted Karen to plan everything and although she wasn’t expecting some eldritch demon or a pack of werewolves to be at the front desk, there never was any telling with Karen so a normal cabin and not some hidden mountain BDSM dungeon was a pleasant surprise.

Karen talks to him while Cassi looks around a bit, admiring the log architecture and the rustic wood-based decor. She turned back around in time to see him pull a small map from the display set and unfolded it on the desk. Cassi peered over it beside Karen. It was surprisingly modern looking. Well organized and clearly marked, it even had restaurants and places of interests from around town- including the mountain hiking trail. He flipped it over and pointed to a blue square. “This is us, here,” he explained. “Your cabin is this one up here,” he tapped a red square farther up the mountain, “Two bedrooms, two baths, great view, over 2000 ft above sea level. ‘S’even got a fireplace. You’ll love it.” he grinned at us. He gave them easy directions and even marked them on the map so they wouldn’t forget.

Cassi smiled, “Thank you, Mr. Merritt.” She folded up the map and they went back to the car. Rolling down the windows to enjoy the fresh evening air and following his directions they were given in the dark, they pull up to a beautiful redwood log cabin. It was smaller, two story built right onto the side of the the mountain giving a beautiful view of the south east forests below the furnished wrap around porch. She pulled up to the front door and parked on the gravel, grinning.

The cabin was comfortably decorated. Not flashy or overdone but casual and warm feeling. Large windows covered nearly every wall, the red, drawn back, floor-to-ceiling curtains causing the setting sun to illuminate the living room on the first floor and the open planned kitchen. Upstairs was another, smaller living space and a small hallway that split the two bedrooms, each with a- Cassi and Karen discovered- gorgeous bathroom attached. Cassi took the master since it had a massive garden tub and Karen wasn’t a “bath person”, unlike Cassi.

Seriously. It was huge. Cassi was never a small woman. She was more than enough for anyone to handle with broad shoulders, strong arms and legs, large breasts, a thick waist and wide, rounded hips and thighs. She was a generous size 20 and this tub could easily fit three of her. She squealed when she saw it, hands clenched at her chest. She nearly jumped for joy.

But first, she was going to unpack. “Hey, bitch!”

“What?”

“What's the plan?”

“Uh… Drink?” Karen peeped around the doorframe into the bathroom, “Woah.”

“Ch- Yeah!” Cassi grinned, “Thanks for lettin’ me have the masters, boo.”

“I’m so using that before we leave,” she said, pointing to the oversized bathtub.

Cassi let out a small laugh, mostly snort really, “We could both use that- at the same time.”

Karen nodded.

“Anyways! What's the plan for tonight?”

“Drinking- I just said that!”

“Okay, okay, let's get everything in, shower and then we drink the night away! Then we can go get breakfast after we wake from the dead,” Cassi laughed.

They did just that. If someone had seen how much liquor and mixers the two women brought into the kitchen, they surely would have thought it was for a party, or at least a large family of alcoholics.  Bottles of vodka, rum, tequila and wine, three handles of fireball and a small bottle of everclear. They reasoned that should be enough to last them the week.

They got a head start- three shots for Cassi and one for the lightweight Karen- then played a few rounds of High-low. Karen smashed Cassi in five rounds, Cassi won three of her own. Then they moved on to an adjusted game of bullshit. Before they could even finish the deck in bullshit, they were both rolling on the floor laughing loudly at nothing. By this time Cassi had stipped down to a sports bra and short sleeping shorts and Karen was in a tank top and lounge pants. Cassi tended to lose clothes as she drank.

Cassi also tended to wake up early and without a hangover after a night of heavy drinking. Karen- not so much.

So, while Karen stayed asleep, Cassi went out to get a breakfast at the little cafe, figuring she’d eat then pick up a few groceries.

Her tight jeans and oversized red and black plaid flannel over a cream colored tank top was warm enough in the cool mountain air. Her favorite black combat boots kept her feet warm and were comfy to walk around the small town in.

She sat down in the cafe's outside seating, the metal cool through her clothes but still a relaxing feeling. She ordered a small breakfast, just oatmeal and fruit, not being able to stomach large amounts of greasy food with her stomach still full of liquor from just a few hours prior. And coffee. lots and lots of coffee. She joked with the waiter, an older jovial man with a strong accent and far too many pins attached to his suspenders for them to be comfortable, to just leave the pot. Three cups of coffee- with two sugars and two creamers each- in, her breakfast is interrupted.  A far too large hand quietly places itself onto the black metal chair across from her. She takes inventory of the deep scarring across the knuckles and the protruding veins. And the size. It wouldn't be a stretch for that hand to cover her entire face. Her eyes dart up to the interruption face- skipping his arm and chest completely. Cassi is momentarily stunned. He had dark green eyes, long hair pulled back into a tight - black, maybe dark brown in color? It was hard to tell. His beard was thick and short but obviously well taken care of. His jaw was strong and angular and Cassi could just make out a few silvery scars along his high cheekbone on the left side of his face. ​This is unreal. Cassi though, Seriously. What romance novel is this jackass from?? "Can I help you?" she asked. He just stared at her, taking her in, eyes roaming over and over her generous, curved figure; over each roll and lump, each scar and mark visible, he found. Not judging, Cassi could tell, just looking. So she looked back. Well fit, dark gray Henley with long sleeves, and the top button undone. His arms well built and waist, though obviously muscled, thick set and leading into wide-set legs covered in loose jeans. Cassi's eyes darted back up to his face. His fuckin' attractive face. "Right." she said shortly, "Good talk. " She turned back to her food and the logic puzzle she was completing, effectively dismissing him by ignoring him.  She heard a low, gravelly grunt that sent suppressed shivers up her spine before the hand removed itself from the chair opposite her. She watched him swagger away out of the corner of her eye . "Well," she murmured to herself, "that was weird." She finished and stretched, the paid for her food at the counter inside with a sweet, "Thank you!" She walked up the road to the little corner grocery store. It was a quaint and cute town. Cassi decided she like it. It was warming seeing how the people here interacted. Everyone seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed to get along. It reminded her of home, of her childhood- or at least the positive parts of it. The grocery store was brightly lit and filled with fresh, local produce and meats. It was strange and more market than grocer. She picked up the basics- milk, bread, butter, rice, a few fruits and veggies. The last thing she picked up was meat, making sure to pick up bacon for Karen. It was enough to last them but not too much for her to carry, albeit it would be with a bit difficulty. Right as she walked out the store, a few kids sped by on skateboards. They got a little two close and nearly knocked her over, She caught herself but, unfortunately, still dropped her bag of produce "Shit." She bend down on one knee to start gathering up her groceries. A hand shot out to grab a run-away apple. One that wasn't hers. Deja vu. She looked up to see her apple's savior and found, yet another, overly attractive man. This one was thinner than the last. He had tattoos from the wrist of his outstretched hand all the way up to the sleeve stretched over his bicep. Still had a sharp jaw, though significantly less square, a five o'clock shadow, bright blue eyes and light pink lips stretched into a charming smile. "Here, cher," he offered, scooping up more of the scattered produce and placing them back into the bag. "Oh..." Cassi caught herself staring, mouth open slightly. She shook her head a bit and smiled back, "Thank you! So much." "Oh no pro'lem. My pleasure, really." He took another bag from her, easing her load and then motioned her ahead. Cassi smiled and accepted his silent offer to help her. "You've got a bit of an unusual accent, cher- for these parts, at least," he started, "Where you from?" At least this one speaks Cassi thought and laughed to herself softly. "South Carolina. Born and raised. Up here with a friend for a little vacation. What about you?" "Naw, I'm a transplant, ma' self. I found I liked it up here, s'rprisin'ly." Cassi smiled at him as they got to her car, she unlocked the doors and placed the bags she had in the back seat, grabbing the bags the stranger had from his hands as well.  "Well, lucky for me then. Thank you...?" "Lucien. Lucien Corbeau." "Thank you, Lucien." "And what should I call you?" Cassi hummed to herself, making a show of looking him up and down, noticing the tattoos wrapping around his right arm in detail. "I think I like 'cher'," she grinned, "But you can call me tonight, if you'd like." Cassi grinned as she grabbed his warm hand and pulled it to her exposing the broad expanse of skin on the soft underside of his right arm to her. She bit the cap of a purple pen and tugged then scrawled her number along his arm. His grin matched hers as she spun on her heels and got into her car. By the time she got all the groceries unloaded and made some bacon, Karen had finally risen from the dead. Cassi smirked at her friend and started the coffee pot. "Goooood morning, sunshine!" Cassi sang. Karen glared in response and snatched a piece of bacon, plopping into the carved wooden chair. "Know what'll make ya feel better?" A grunt. "A shot." "Fuck that. No ma'am," Cassi snickered at her friend, Karen glared harder in return before giving up and eating more bacon. Cassi poured two cups of coffee and set one down in front of Karen. Her phone rang out with a ding before she should sit down to finish her own coffee. Karen sent her a glance as she opened the text message. "Who's that from?" Cassi sent her a sly look and shrugged casually. "Oh just some guy." Karen snorted, "Slut." Cassi shrugged. "So, is it Josh or KC?" "Neither." Karen playfully gasped, "Oh you are a slut!" Cassi laughed. "He helped me with the groceries! I dropped them!"

The two busted out laughing. The girls calmed down and Karen crunched on more bacon.  Cassi smiled and unlocked her phone again, finally reading her message.

"Hello, cher"

Cassi tapped out her reply quickly.

"Aren't you eager, Mr Corbeau?"​

"How could I not be?"

Cassi hadn't expected a response so quickly. Hm.

She ​ tapped a finger on the table for a second, thinking of how to reply. She kind of liked the excited attention he was giving her.

"I'm not sure. I mean, if I could meet myself, I'd be pretty excited too! Lol" ​ No, that's not right. She erased it. "Who knows?"  Better.

"I hope you wouldn't think me too eager then, if I ask you to coffee tomorrow night?"

"Hmmm... No I don't supposed I would."

"In that case, How does coffee sound tomorrow, cher?"

"Well I suppose, but only because I love coffee." Cassi laughed to herself.

They set a time and place to meet the next night, all the while Lucien calling her "Cher". The ridiculous pet name made Cassi smile. And then gag at her own girly giddiness.

"Aye yo, bitch!" Cassi called from the couch where she had posted up to text with Lucien.

"What?" Karen responded from the kitchen, around her bottle of water.

"What do you want to do today?"

Karen shruged, "I am not doing shit till I get a shower."

"Don't blame you there." Cassi thought for  a second, "How about we check out that trail? It feels fuckin' amazing outside today."

Karen shot her a look, "Oh I'm sure it did feel fuckin' amazing."

"Bitch." Cassi laughed.

The trail was beautiful. The entire mountain was, honestly. Cassi had packed her small backpack with a few bottles of water, her well supplied first aid kit, some snacks and a few photography supplies. Her tightly laced boots were comfortable on her feet and let her explore all the terrain the mountain had to offer. She kept her compact digital camera around her neck in case she found something spectacular. She

The two girls laughed and enjoyed the fresh air around them. After an hour of leisurely walking and stopping every now and then to capture a wonderful, they reached the 2 mile marker on the trail. It was now nearly 3 in the afternoon and Karen was ready to head back and take a shower. Cassi wanted to press on deeper into the mountain and hopefully get a few more pictures. So they compromised.

They walked together back to the base of the trail and Karen continued to the cabin while Cassi turned around and took a different trail.