#Paper Slitting Machine

[actual-corpse]

I don't know or remember who said it and where... but like...

Why do all the cultists in movies cut their palm to get blood for the ritual?

That shit hurts.... And it's pretty hard to heal wounds on the hands due to washing and general hand use.

[urmomschocolatemilk]

Simon Riley x Alternative!fem!reader

I went thrifting td with a friend and got this idea. Reminder that my inbox is open ghost headcanons and requests

If there was one thing Simon knew about you from the moment the two of you met, it was that you loved to sew. Almost every piece of clothing you owned was handmade or altered. You’d cut up shirts, using the lace or frill at the top and add it to another piece of clothing. You’d tailor dresses and shirts for your friends and family and always patch up Simon's on base uniform.  

You weren't sure what made sitting in front of the sewing machine, eyes trained on a certain strip of whatever you were working on that was so therapeutic but it was. Not only was it that you loved the art of sewing, but in-store brands never seemed to have something you liked, or fit your personal style, so being able to make your own clothing really came in handy.

Your birthday was coming around and Simon, being the best boyfriend he was, had already picked a restaurant and booked a reservation. What you didn't know however, was that he’d been learning to sew for the past couple of months because he wanted to make you a dress that you would absolutely adore. He knew nothing he could buy would cut it, and he also knew that you loved handmade gifts. So, he found that this was the perfect gift. 

Now Simon knew what you liked about your clothes and what you didn't. For example, you didn't like light tones because you felt they highlighted any hyperpigmentation you had. Or that you didn't like to wear dresses with too high a slit on the side because you felt that it caused the fabric to fall weirdly around your legs.

Even with all this knowledge Simon didn't want to get it wrong. He wanted this gift to be perfect and as previously stated, something you’d adore. So, he stole your sketch book, which contained every preview of a design you’d created in the past year and flipped through it. Taking mental notes of each similarity and alteration.  

The week after that Simon enrolled in a regularly scheduled sewing class to begin working on his project. Simon did feel out of place there, especially at the start. He was the only man there, let alone a 6’2 military buff, but the instructor didn't treat him any differently, and he didnt pay any mind to it either.

“You want this to be your first project?” the teacher asked when Simon first showed her the sketch. He nodded. “This is quite difficult for a beginner. You understand that, yes?”

Simon shrugged ‘It’s going to be a gift.”  

Every week, twice a week Simon showed up to class. He never skipped a session. He needed this dress to be perfect. It took a month for him to get it looking decent, and then another half month to get it looking perfect. It seemed he was a fast learner.  

Finally, he was able to take it home, and the first place it went was to the dry cleaners. He wasn't going to risk throwing his masterpiece, and more importantly, your gift, into the washing machine to get ruined. Then when he picked it up he folded it neatly and placed it in a gorgeous red velvet box he had bought.  

Hiding it was easier than Simon had expected it to be, considering that you lived together and every part of the house was easily accessible to you. The only thing you didn't ever touch was his desk. So, he decided to keep it there, placing it at the bottom of the desk cabinet and neatly stacking some papers and folders around it to keep it concealed.   

Finally, the day came around and you were just about ready to begin getting ready for dinner when he stopped you mid-way into the bathroom.  

“I want to show you something,” Simon said, taking your hand and sitting you down on the bed. You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly concerned.  

“Is everything okay?” You asked  

“Just wait here,” he told you, walking swiftly out of the room and into his office. Simon rarely smiled, like really smiled, but when he came back into the room, red velvet box in hand his lips were turned up in subtle excitement.  

“What's this?” you asked with a grin, taking the box from him and running your hand over the soft, plush exterior.  

“Your birthday present," he answers. Simon is nervous as he watches you lift the lid, placing it gently next to you and taking out the soft fabric in the box. Your lips part in awe as you realize what it is, and you pinch it at the top, holding it out in front of you and letting it unravel itself. He watches as your eyes glaze over it slowly, taking in every detail. You love it. 

“Where did you get this?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the beautiful piece of fabric. He swears he can see your eyes glittering in the light as you look at the dress.  

“I made it.” He states. You’re already smiling, but when you hear his answer, your smile widens. You look beautiful, he thinks.  

“You made this?” You repeat excitedly, your head turning to look up at him. He nodded. “This is gorgeous baby!” You were so touched by the length and effort he had put into something for you. You knew he didn't know how to sew so the fact that he learned to and took the time to learn what you liked and didn't like made your heart bloom with adoration.  

“You like it lovie’?” he asked. You nodded profusely, setting the dress aside as you stood and threw your arms around him. Pressing a kiss to his lips you answered.  

“I love it.” 

[uglypastels]

Hey can you do a coffee shop AU ab Gambit where the reader works at the shop Remy frequents? But one day there’s an attack and her mutation manifests?? Love your writing!

stick with me as I try to figure out how to write his accent lol. it's just a quick and fun lil thang but i hope you like it. [also, is this my first ever coffee shop au?? it might be. don't quote me on that tho]

warnings: slight cursing. supervillain attack.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Will that be the usual, Remy?’ You already pulled out the paper cup to write his name and order on it, looking up expectantly for him to confirm your suspicion.

‘You know it, chere.’ 

‘One cafe au lait, coming up.’ You chirped with a smile, noting it down on the side of the cup. Like the well-oiled machine the two of you have become over the past weeks, he didn’t need to hear the price and just slid a five-dollar bill across the counter and pushed another exact bill through the slit of the little tip jar next to the register.

‘Well, you know,’ and just like any other time, you couldn’t help but comment on his generosity, ‘you really don’t have to do all that. It’s just coffee.’ As much as you appreciated his gesture, a twinge of guilt struck you as he practically paid double for what already was an overpriced beverage.

‘It ain't for the coffee,’ he smirked, which, with a flash of heat, immediately radiated onto your cheeks. It all happened like clockwork, and so you reminded yourself that that’s just who he was.  You were sure he did it with anyone, so you mustn’t let it get to you. To not get too hung up over a customer who made it a habit throughout his day to flirt with his barista.

‘Here ya go,’ you presented him with the drink. 

‘I donno how you do it, belle,’ Remy said after his first sip, a satisfied expression spreading over his face. ‘Perfect. Evry time.’

‘Why, thank you.’ You reciprocated his smile, but really, it was no big deal. You were just doing your job—something that was only easier considering your talents. Practically being a human heat conductor made preparing a perfect cup o’ joe fairly simple. Still, when a charming Cajun walked into your establishment and showered you in compliments on a nearly daily basis, the effect might have been a bit stronger than a one-off comment from a stranger. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to deny his allure. 

For a Tuesday morning, the café was surprisingly clear of customers besides a couple of taken tables at the windows, where some early birds had begun their day by reading the paper or getting a headstart on their work. And so, with no line rushing him off behind him, Remy sipped his coffee right by your side. 

‘Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be, Rem?’ you teased as you wiped the counter.

‘With a beautiful lady righ in front of me, there ain't nowhere I rather be.’

‘Oh, shush, you.’ You tried to ignore it, but the steam coming off from the once wet handtowel you used to clean was saying differently. Both of you were about to open your mouths, the snarky banter already dripping from both your lips, but that all faltered as the ground beneath you shook. The soft ambience brought on by the instrumental music playing in the background over the speakers was overrun by the aggressive shaking of all the products and measuring jugs falling to the ground. But soon, even that was silenced by the screams that followed. A stampede of morning commuters was running through the street, eyes wide and pale with fear. 

‘What the–’ you muttered out, carefully making your way to the window. Perhaps not the smartest move, but the curiosity had gotten the better of you. And it sure had; as right as you had reached your lookout point, all your senses were thrown off guard by an explosion. The world around you turned upside down— or was that just you as you were thrown off your feet and across the room following a million pieces of shattered glass? 

You were ready to fall into the puddle of shards, but instead, you were met with the hold of two strong arms, and once you dared to open your eyes, you saw a pair of glowing red ones. 

‘You alright?’ Remy put you down on the ground. 

Still, in shock, all you could respond with was a nod. You watched as Remy made his way across the glass-covered floor, calling out to the fear-stricken people in the café. 

‘Is gonna be all right, everyone.’ He helped a lady get back up on her feet and make her way to the back of the room. ‘Stay inside. Get z’away from the street.’ And even though you wanted to listen to his command, you found yourself walking back towards him. 

‘What are you doing, cher?’ With his hand on your shoulder, he held you back from taking another step. 

‘I wanna help.’ It was clear enough to you that he was about to fight whatever it was that was scaring all those people outside, and there was no way in hell you’d let him go out there on his own. 

‘Do you even know what you’re up against?’ 

‘Do you?’ you hit back, and that response clearly pleased him. The worry on his lips turned up into a smirk. So, the barista had a spark to her. It didn’t surprise him, necessarily. If anything, the excitement from seeing this side of you sparked a rush through his whole body. 

Side by side, you ran out into the street, avoiding the last few incomers who were trying their best to escape whatever it was you were about to greet. And what that was, you soon found out. All you had to do was look up into the sky.

‘Le Bon Dieu.’ Remy cursed under his breath.

‘Damn.’ You gasped at the sight of what you could only describe to be a giant robot floating above the tall buildings. Eyes glowing with a fire that burst in jetstreams of destruction.

Perhaps you were way in over your head, getting into a fight with a steel giant, fighting with a nearly complete stranger, and yet, when you looked up at him, and your eyes met, you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[dixons-sunshine]

Discovery | Scud Frohmeyer x Fem!Reader

Summary: While the two of you were supposed to be working on a new project for Blade, Scud had better things in mind. And those better things included a discovery that you'd most definitely use to your advantage in the future.

Warnings: Suggestive content, fingering but not really.

Word count: 584.

A/N: Dedicated to @celtic-crossbow. Hope you like this, my love 💜.

The machine that had to be repaired was a forgotten memory on the table. A half-smoked joint was burning out in the ashtray next to the machine, blueprints and other papers were strayed all over the floor and the rock song that filled the air was almost completely drowned out by the loud, lewd moans that filled the air.

You and Scud were supposed to be working. You knew that. Blade would be back any minute to collect the machine Scud was working on and to get a report on the blood tests you were running to improve his serum. However, as you found yourself sat upon one of the workbenches and as Scud's lips trailed down your jaw, down to your collarbone, you couldn't care to be worried about being late with it. What was happening was way more fun, and it definitely deserved all of your attention.

“Josh,” you moaned out breathlessly, tilting your head back to allow him better access to your neck. Your mind was foggy, your only thoughts being him and how good he was making you feel at that moment. His fingers were languidly rubbing circles over your clit through the fabric of your underwear.

Scud hummed against your skin, his kisses burning a fiery trail down your neck as he began to suck at your collarbone. “Yeah? Does that feel good, Baby?” he asked you rhetorically. He knew damn well how he was making you feel. Your downright sinful, nearly pornographic moans told him all he needed to know.

You nodded frantically, your fingers running through his hair in an attempt to ground yourself back down to Earth. Scud took that as a sign to up his game. He slipped his hand into your underwear and let his finger glide through your slit. The action made you gasp. Without even really thinking about it, you lightly yanked on his hair as another moan escaped you. However, your moan was drowned out by the obscene sound that left Scud's mouth.

You looked at Scud in surprise at the sound that had escaped him. The sound bordered on both a whimper and a groan. You had never heard him make that sound before. To say you were surprised would be an understatement. And as Scud's cerulean eyes locked with your own eyes, you could clearly see that he was just as surprised about that revelation as you.

“Well shit, I'll be damned,” he laughed, his hand slipping from your underwear to rest on your thighs. “I think you just unlocked a new kink for me.”

You giggled and brushed some of the hair away from his face. “And here I thought I knew everything about you.” You cupped his cheek and caressed it lovingly. “I'm surprised I didn't do that sooner. We could've figured it out a whole lot earlier.”

Scud leaned forward and pressed a messy, tender kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he leaned into your touch, a small smile on his face. “You're gonna use this to your advantage, aren't you?”

“Oh, definitely.” You laughed. “I'm gonna overuse this piece of knowledge. Just you wait.”

You pulled him in for a fiery, hungry kiss. Scud moaned and returned the kiss with a fervor of his own. And as your hands trailed back up to his hair, he couldn't help the excitement that pooled at the pit of his stomach.

Yeah, you could use that little discovery all you wanted. He definitely didn't mind.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone Part 4 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Officer Steve harrington/ Gangster Eddie munson & Doctor fem submissive Y/N, SMUT, degrading, some spanking, LOTS of dirty talk, handcuffs, slight overstimulation, after care of course.

ANGST, Jason causing problems before the meeting with his dad. Mentions of explosions and shooting. Eddie being sexily intimidating <3, Steve's dad makes a cameo and undermines the readers profession like a dick. Slight cliffhanger ending...I guess. Idk lol

Word Count: 5993

Last Chapter Here

“Last chance, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your hold on Eddie’s arm tightens as you exhale out your nerves. This entire week had been rough not just on you but them as well. You were ready for it all to be over so you could just enjoy being with the new men in your life. If this is what you needed to do for that to be done so be it. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

As you smile up at him, he leans down to kiss your lips making you laugh as you quickly wipe away the lipstick that lingered on his mouth.

Both your demeanors hardened as the door to the venue was opened and Eddie led you inside. 

***

The gangster ran into the hospital room with you trailing behind, glancing at the chart that was attached to the wall as Steve stood by Chrissy’s bed side. 

“What happened?!”

“Witnesses say they don’t know. Just, suddenly, her store was fire.”, the officer relayed with a sigh. “It’s all gone, Ed.”

“It says here she should be fine…physically at least.”, you add as your sad eyes shift towards the unconsciously girl in front of them. 

“We-we can rebuild her store. That won’t be an issue—”

“EMS found a note pinned to her sweater.”

Steve handed him the slightly charred piece of paper that Eddie read aloud.

 “No, Kiddo, this moment…this is me at my most masochistic.

Three.”

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“It’s a quote from Kill Bill. Everything but the three. I don’t know what that means.”, you answered, trying to hide the fear and worry.

Placing his hands on his hips, Eddie begins to pace. 

“I really think you two should stay in my apartment until we get this resolved.”

“You and I both know I can’t do that.”, Steve murmurs as his face scrunches in thought. “And we both know she’s not because of her patients.”

A knowing smirk flashes along your features as you shrug. 

“I don’t like this. I still think—”

“I know what you think, Ed, and I’m telling you no.”, the officer cut him off. “You already went and attacked him once and look what’s happening.”

“I feel weak, Steve. Like I’m letting him get away with this bullshit.”

“You’re not weak. If anything, he’s weak for reacting this way.”, you respond as you wrap your arm around his waist and in response he kisses your forehead. 

“I just… I’m still going to have some of my guys watching over you two. Y/N, Gareth will be in the clinic with you and Steve, Jeff can linger out of the way so he isn’t seen.”

######### 

“Jesus, ALL of Hawkins High Society is here.”, you murmur as you two enter the garish ballroom style area where extremely well-dressed people had gathered. 

Eddie had taken you shopping and bought you a beautiful (expensive) red evening dress that flowed to your ankles but had a slit up to just below your hip. He had bought you some equally expensive jewelry to match except for the bracelet around your wrist. 

“I know it’s not as lavish as what Tony Montana here got you but I saw it in the store and it made me think of you.”, Steve blushed as he hooked the bracelet to you and spun it around. It was a simple silver chain but in the middle was what looked like a heartbeat reading you see on ECG machines at work. “Since you, ya know, stole the other half of my heart.”

“Wow, Steve Harrington. That was smooth.”, Eddie chuckled. “Um, here. Here’s MY other half as well.”, he grinned softly as he slides one of his rings onto your finger. 

“Yeah like you said before, ‘rich people trying to make themselves feel better.’.”

Eddie insisted you both should stand out so not only would people see you together and know you’re his but it would draw the eye of Mr. Carver so he’d hopefully come talk to you two. His suit matched your outfit with a red button up but every other piece on him was a crisp black that made him seem even more handsome. 

While your hair was down around your shoulders, his was up and pulled back so you could see his face a bit more. Occasionally during the car ride, you would lean over and kiss his cheek just because you could making him beam over at you as he squeezed your hand. 

Leading you to the bar, he ordered you both a glass of champagne making you giggle as you watch him chug it down and ask for another. 

“Nervous?”

“Uh a little but not for the reason you might think. I’ve never met Steve’s parents. I’ve heard stories and of course they don’t know about us but for some reason I still want them to kind of like me.”, he playfully winces making you laugh harder. 

“That’s normal, baby. You love him so you want them to like you; to approve.”

Grinning in your direction, Eddie leans down to kiss your cheek while you were taking a sip from your glass.

“What was that for?”

“I’m just so glad we met you. I wish it was under different circumstances but—”

“One bourbon, straight, please and thank you.”, Steve sighs heavily as he leans over the counter waiting for his drink. “My parents are on their bullshit tonight.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”, you whisper with a smile as he thanks the bartender again and knocks back his drink. 

“Steven, I thought you were bringing everyone back something.”, a man practically whined as he came up behind him. 

“I was. Dad, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N and—”

“Edward Munson, sir. Nice to meet you.”, Eddie greeted as he enthusiastically extended his hand for him to shake. 

As the officer turns to grab the drinks and hide his smirk, you subtly bumped him with your hip.

“Hm. I’ve heard your name around town. Very prominent young man. What do you do exactly?”

“Management you could say sir.”

“And you young lady? Are you a real doctor or just one of those professor types?”

“Um, I own my own clinic and treat patients.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“It’s Hawkins Virtue Clinic on the lower west side.”

“Ah on the crime riddled side of town where people can’t even afford napkins from a restaurant let alone healthcare.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve who tilts his glass towards you in a cheer gesture with a little smile as he knocks back its contents. 

“I guess you could say that. That’s why I don’t charge them more than they can afford.”

“How do you make money then?”

“It’s not always about money. For me, all that matters is people can live long healthy lives.”

“Not in Hawkins, honey, but it’s a cute dream. Come on, Steve, your mother is waiting.”

“I’ll see you peasants later.”, he teases as he winks and follows his father. 

“Well, that was a good test run.”, you joke as you turn to face Eddie. 

“Yeah, hopefully George isn’t that cynical.” 

#############

“Thank you for keeping an eye on me these past few days.”, you beam at Gareth as you both walk to your car. 

“Of course. It’s actually been oddly exciting. I learned that green is never really a good color especially on or IN your skin unless its vegetables, obviously.” He grins when you laugh. “I also learned that sick kids are VERY loud and nurses deal with way too much. 

“They really do. I try to give them raises as much as I can to show my appreciation but it’s hard with my lack of funds.”

“I’m sure Eddie could help if you asked.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.”

Your guard paused, holding his arm out to stop you as well.

“Stay here.” Drawing his gun, he slowly walked forward towards your car, scanning the interior and around the side. Noticing a note tapped to the door handle, he carefully pulls it off and reads the contents before his wide eyes meet yours. 

“Y/N RUN!”

As he starts sprinting your way, you suddenly feel heat and a strong wind that knocks you off your feet as your car explodes.

***

Eddie’s tires skid as he slams on his breaks when he arrives at your clinic. Bypassing all the fire fighters and EMS, he entered the building hunting for you. 

“What happened?! Baby, are you alright?”

Silently, Steve grabbed his partner’s arm and dragged him off to the side. Digging into his pocket, he handed Eddie the note that was taped to your car.

“I'm not gonna kill you. Your job will be to tell the rest of them that death is coming for them, tonight. Two.”

“I looked it up, it’s a quote from another movie involving revenge. And I’m assuming—”

“He’s counting down.”, Eddie interrupts. “I’m going to fucking kill that son of a bitch.”

“No, hey. We have a plan, remember? Right now, she needs you.”

After coming back around the corner, Steve shoos the EMS people away as he sits beside you in your waiting area with his pencil and pad pretending to take your statement while the gangster takes a seat on your other side. 

“Princess, look at me. Are you ok? Did you get hurt?”

“Uh, no. Gareth, he, um, he did though.”, you respond as your tear-filled eyes meet his. “I tried to do what I could, Eddie. H-He was badly burned. I-I-I don’t have stuff here for those kinds of burns.”

Tilting you against him, he presses your head to his chest as you sob.

“EMS said that he will most likely be ok and if you hadn’t been there he would have died. Honey, you saved him.”

“H-He saved me, Steve.”

“You’re both staying with me. No arguments.”, Eddie announced as you nodded.

“I have to go in and fill out my report—”

“Steven…”

“I know, I know. I’m probably next but there’s nothing I can do, Eddie. I have to go in and do this. Plus, I have Jeff and a station full of cops. I’ll be ok.”

############

“I’m going to go smoke a cigarette, sweetheart, ok? Don’t go far.”

You nod as you watch him reach into his pocket and pull out his pack as he disappears out on the nearby patio. Glancing at all the people around you, you suddenly feel extremely isolated completely unsure of what you should be doing. 

“Don’t let them see you crumble.”, an older man chuckles as he steps closer to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I know what it’s like to walk into this sea of rich people and feel completely out of place. When my father and I moved here, we had nothing but a few pennies in our pocket but he knew how to finagle. Networked his way to his first 100K and used that to start an empire.”

“That’s amazing. My, uh, my grandparents were the same. They said personality goes a long way in any business. My grandma opened a tutoring center on the east side and helped so many underprivileged kids go on to college. My dad thought she was ridiculous. ‘You’re barely making ends meet, ma!’”, you roll your eyes.

“Ah, one of those.”, the man smiles. “I inherited my father’s company and then gave it to my son. Did your grandmother do the same?”

“Oh, no. She got sick pretty early on in her life and I moved in with them to help take care of her. It’s what actually sparked my interest in medicine. I’m a doctor and I run my own clinic, Hawkins Virtue.”

“Oh! I’ve heard of that place. You help a lot of people who are struggling.”

“I try.”, you grin, happy to meet someone who seems to genuinely find interest. 

“Do you need funding? I’d love to come by and see what you do.”

Shifting your gaze, you notice Steve watching you intensely from beside his parents.

“I would like that very much. I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”, you introduce as you offer him your hand that he takes and kisses the back off.

“George. George Carver.”

***

Steve sighs as he heads out of the police station to go home. Placing the ear bud in his ear, he taped his phone to immediately call Eddie. 

“What’s going on?? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m fine. I’m on my way now.”

“Ok, stay on the phone with me till you’re almost here.”

“Heh. I love when you get protective.”

Eddie listens to every footstep with anticipation as the officer heads towards his car.

“You’re my Paladin, babe, but I’m the Master. I can take care of you to.”

“You’re such a nerd.”, he chuckles, pausing at the sight of the note on his windshield.

Trying not to startle his boyfriend, he carefully removed it as he backed away from his car.

“Killing's got to be accepted. Murder was the only way that everybody stayed in line. You got out of line, you got whacked. Everybody knew the rules. One.”

Something suddenly whizzed passed him, shattering his driver’s side window.

“Fuck me.” As soon as he hit the ground, multiple rounds of gunfire went off around him. Steve could barely hear Eddie in his ear as he crawled behind a nearby vehicle and waited.

“STEVEN! ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT!”

“I’m ok! I’m ok!”

Pointing his gun towards the car, he fired a few rounds before it disappeared around the corner. 

***

Eddie paced as you cleaned the cuts on Steve’s hand he had received from all the glass on concrete. The gangster was on edge since he had to wait for police to scope the scene and take the officer’s statement. 

“Fucking asshole. Steve, I’m sorry but I can’t let this slide. Two of my friends are in the hospital and he almost killed you two.”

“No. He wants to kill us in front of you remember. This was just to toy with you and us.”

“I don’t like the casual way you said that.”, Steve teased as he pokes your nose with his free hand. 

“Excuse me. Not a joke here!”

“You’re right, baby. Talking with his father won’t be enough. He crossed a line but we need to focus on this first to keep Y/N safe. After we handle that, then we can handle him.”

“I may have an idea that won’t upset his father IF we get that approval and will get your message across.”, you announce as they give you their attention. 

############

“Mr. Carver.”

“Ah, Mr. Munson or should I saw Edward. We don’t want to confuse you with your father now do we?”, the man laughs light-heartedly as your gangster circles a protective arm around you. “Do you know Dr. Y/L/N here?”

“Oh, please, sir. You can call me Y/N.”, you beam trying to remain as calm as possible.

“Yes, sir. I met Y/N when she saved me from a nasty wound I got. I had heard of all the things she’s done for the community so, of course, I had to get to know her better.”, he grins as he pulls you closer.

“That ‘nasty wound’ wouldn’t have been inflicted by my son per chance?” Eddie stiffened a bit beside you as the man gave him a once over. “Yeah, I know you and Jason don’t get along but that doesn’t give you the right to invade his turf and kill his best friend.”

“If I may, Mr. Carver, is there a private place we can talk?”

“No, you may not. Whatever is going on between you and him doesn’t involve me. You two are in charge now. Handle it.”

As he starts to walk away, you reach out to grab the man’s bicep.

“Please, sir. So many innocent people have gotten hurt just in this week alone. Your son is throwing a tantrum over something he started and is upset because Eddie didn’t let it go like his father used to. Please, just listen to what he has to say. We don’t want anything in return or anything like that. Just…listen.”

Jason’s father sighs as he glances you over.

“You would even decline the generous donation I was thinking of giving to your clinic? That’s a lot of funds that could help a lot of people.”

“This will help more.”

At your sentence, he blinked and stood up straighter. 

“Ok. Ok, Mr. Munson. Let’s talk.”

***

Jason exhaled as he took off his tie and laid his gun on the kitchen counter with his keys as he headed towards his living room. 

“Long night?”

“Jesus Christ, dad!”, the man jumped as he clutched his chest. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I thought you were going to the fundraiser event tonight.”

“I was busy.”

“I hope you weren’t busy with anything involving the Munson crew.”

As his father rose to his feet, Jason stood up straighter.

“I told you. That asshole killed Andrew—”

“After you broke into his girlfriend’s house and pulled a gun on him?”

“He killed Patrick and my friends!”

“AFTER you kidnapped his friend WHO IS A COP and beat him up! You stupid idiot!”, his dad growls as his son flinches. “What’s this I hear about you starting fires, blowing up cars, and doing shootings outside of a police station?! And leaving these moronic notes like this is some gangster movie!”, George shouts as he grumbles the papers he was given and tossed them his way. “This is not how we run our business, Jason.”

“Edward Munson needs to be taken out.”, he seethes. 

“Edward Munson will be left alone and so will his crew. That includes Steve Harrington and Y/N Y/L/N. Do you understand me, son?”

“Are you kidding!? He just gets away with killing my friends?!”

“BE GLAD I DON’T KILL YOU! Sit down!” Jason cowers at his father’s anger as he sits on the couch. “If you weren’t my son, I’d have gotten rid of you for how sloppy you’ve been. That being said you still need to understand that there are consequences to your actions.” Looking past him, George addresses the darkness behind his son’s ear. “He’s all yours.”

Something sharp stings the gangster’s neck as his world begins to spin. 

“I trust whatever you come up with, Mr. Munson, the punishment will fit the crime.”

As you and Eddie come into view, Jason’s world goes dark.

#################

“Good morning, sunshine.”, Eddie jests as Jason’s eyes flutter open. “I wouldn’t wiggle too much if I were you. The view up here is pretty great but not when you’re falling down eight stories.”

The rival gangster’s eyes finally adjust to see the other man in front of him with you and Steve on either side. He tried to move but soon realized he was bound to a chair with duct tape over his mouth, completely at your mercy as he was perched near the edge of a tall building. 

“You know, I’m a fan of movies myself. The one thing my father and I could connect on was The Godfather trilogy. Did you ever see those, Jason?” The man’s only response is trying to tug at his restraints. “No? That’s ok. The third one is utter garbage but that second one. Oof…so good. There’s one line in there that always stood out to me. ‘Chiedi di me ai tuoi amici del quartiere. Ti diranno che so come ricambiare un favore.’”

Stepping forward with his hands in his pockets he continues. 

“It’s Italian. ‘Ask your friends in the neighborhood about me. They'll tell you I know how to return a favor.’”

The rival gangster’s eyes widen as Eddie kneels to his level, balancing on his heels as he speaks to him again is a soft tone laced subtle venom.

“You crossed a line, Carver. If it were up to me I would have killed you and your entire enterprise after hurting Steve and threatening Y/N. After the stunts you pulled this week, I almost did. You can thank this young lady here for talking me out of it.”

Jason’s eyes flick to your angry ones before looking at the other man again. 

“She also suggested we talk to your father which was a brilliant idea. He’s very levelheaded and kind of funny. Right, guys?”

“Hysterical. He thought what you did at the police station was so amusing he recommended I take you in and throw you in a cell with Allen since you miss him so much.”, Steve quipped with a smirk. 

“After blowing up my car and breaking into my apartment, he thought I should use some of things I learned at medical school as a punishment. Oddly enough, castration was the first thing to came to his mind. I told him I didn’t think you had any balls to remove since you were acting like a five-year-old.”, you add making Eddie’s smile widen. 

“He also suggested we make the punishment fit the crime thus you’re ours for the next week, buddy!” As the gangster lightly taps his face, Jason starts to cry. “But, Carver, I’m not going to do that. Do you know why? I’m not my father and I’m not like you. I don’t kill for pleasure and I don’t like hurting people. I want this to stop. But make no mistake…” Eddie reaches for Jason’s throat and squeezes it between his ringed fingers. “If you ever threaten or hurt these two again or even fucking think of coming on to my side of Hawkins, I will burn your side to the ground and make you regret ever being born let alone taking your father’s mantle. Am I being clear?”

Ripping away the tape his lips, the gangster squeaks as he continues to cry. 

“Yes! I understand. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Eddie.” After tapping his cheek again, Eddie turns taking your hand in his as you three head for the door to leave the roof of the building. “Hey! What about me?!”

“Oh, we’ll call the building super in the morning. Just…don’t lean back.”, Steve answers with a sarcastic thumbs up as the door closes behind him.

##################

You giggled in Eddie’s arms as he held you to him, kissing your lips with vigor as he carried you up the stairs with Steve trailing right behind. 

“You…are…amazing.”, he cooed between each breath as he fell with you onto the bed. 

“You really are.” Steve added as he threw himself beside you and began sucking on your neck. 

Ringed fingers glided hastily up the slit in your dress, moving the silk blocking your core, and effortlessly pushed into your entrance, pumping in and out so quickly the sound of your arousal filled the room. 

“Fuck, Eddie.”

“You got me so hard, sweetheart, watching the way you took control talking to George. Jesus and in that beautiful fucking dress.” Your hand floated down to cling to his as his digits inside of you moved at a relentless pace. “I had to keep telling myself to focus because all I wanted to do was push you against that wall and fuck you till you couldn’t walk straight.”

Steve gripped your chin turning you so your lips could meet his as the gangster’s head fell into the nook between your head and shoulder. 

“You’re a bad girl now, baby. OUR bad girl.”

“Tr-treat me like one.”

The officer chuckled at your needy tone as you panted into his mouth. 

“Yeah? You want us to show you how bad girls get treated?”

“P-Please…please. Fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Ask nicely, Y/N.”

Leaning your head against the gangster’s, you murmured consistent pleas, begging for relief that he granted as the coil snapped and you practically screamed his name. Offering his fingers to his partner, Steve licked them clean before leaning over you so their lips could mingle together. 

After digging in one of his drawers, Eddie produced some handcuffs and passed them over to Steve who took hold of your wrists restraining you to the headboard. 

“These are my own set so they should feel more comfortable on your skin than his steel ones.”, Eddie grinned as he kissed your lips.

“Babe, you forgot to take off her dress.”

“Fuck, silly me.” Grabbing the slit in the fabric, he yanked it apart tearing it up the middle till it split in half and fell away. “There we go.”

“No bra, honey? Definitely bad girl behavior.”

“Eddie told me not to wear one.”, you whine as Steve’s gaze shifts his way. 

“What? I like her tits. Sue me.”

While Eddie removed his suit, the officer yanked down your panties and tossed them onto the floor while he kissed your lips. 

“I bet you want to suck my cock, don’t you dirty girl?”

“I do. Please.”

“I like that. Keep beginning me like that.”

Jumping back into bed, the gangster took hold of one of your legs and lifted it over his shoulder before guiding his cock into your entrance.”

“Oh my god.”

Fingers circled tightly around your neck as your eyes met Steve’s anger filled ones. 

“I said beg me for my dick, little girl.”

“P-Please, Steve. I wanna—fuck, Eddie—I wanna choke on your cock. Please! I need it!”

Quickly, he unbuckled his belt and shimmied down his pants enough to free his length, allowing it to hover over your lips. 

“Tap three times loudly if you need to stop, ok?”

“Yes, yes sir.”

“Oh, look at that, Eds. Little girl found her manners.”

Eddie smirked as he continued to slam his hips into yours at a rough pace, his thick fingers digging into your thigh as he used it for leverage. 

Opening your mouth, you prepared for some the things they had been teaching you. Flattening your tongue you waited, mewling when he finally gave you what you were begging for. As his cock slid down your throat, his fingers tangled in your hair and you focused on the feeling as he slowly thrust his hips. 

“Good…good girl. That’s it. Shit, baby. That’s it. You’re almost taking all of me.” Feeling your body tremble, Steve holds you still, allowing you choke and gag around him as you cum. “Yes! You’re ok, baby. Just a couple more seconds.”

Tapping once, you signal you need air and he immediately pulls out to pet your head, murmuring praises as Eddie slows his rhythm to almost a complete stop as he caresses your leg comfortingly. 

“Good girl, honey. You did so fucking good. It took all my energy not to cum to but I want to cum inside your tight pussy, pretty girl. So beautiful. What color are we at, Y/N?”

“Green, baby. Green.”

At the word, the gangster lifts your other leg, pushing them together as he slowly thrusts his cock deep inside you. 

As your eyes roll back and you moan, Steve kisses away your tears before murmuring against your lips, “Do you still want my dick, baby girl? Do you want me to fuck your pretty little throat? Feel us both deep inside you. I wonder if I can feel myself here.”, he coos as he gently places his hand on your neck. “I know I can feel Eddie fucking you so good. Right, honey?”

His large palm trails down your skin till you feel him press on your lower belly making you whimper louder as your back arches and you tug on your restraints. 

“Yeah, he’s right here, nice and deep.”

Eddie grunts as his pace hastens, his partners words amping him up as Steve smiles. Lifting up on his knees once more, the officer holds his tip just above your lips, chuckling as your tongue needily reaches for him. 

“Don’t forget what we talked about. Tap if you need to breathe or stop, baby. I’m gonna fuck your throat hard, ok?”

“Y-Yes. Please—fuck—please.”

Sliding his dick into your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he did what he said, constantly hitting the back of your throat over and over as the obscene sound of you gagging and drooling filled their ears. Both men became almost feral at the noise, Eddie shaking the bed as he pounded into you and Steve tugging harshly on your hair while mumbling under his breath. 

“That’s it, little girl. Jesus. Your mouth feels so fucking good. Atta girl. Choke on my cock, you dirty little whore making a fucking mess. Mmm!”

Your legs abruptly hit the mattress as Eddie fell on top of you, wrapping his arms around your back as he rolled his hips into yours. The officer pulled back, stroking himself with his hand as he watched you both cum together. The gangster laid still trying to catch his breath as Steve reached down to play his hair.

“Fuck me. This pussy is too good.”, Eddie groaned as he sat up and lightly spanked your behind. “I’m glad it’s ours.” 

After pulling out of you, both men shared a passionate filled kiss as they switched places, Steve wiggling underneath you so your back was on his chest. While the officer ran his palms over your breasts and along your sides, Eddie took hold of his partners cock, spitting over the tip before running it between your folds, teasing you both as it grazed your clit. 

“Please.”, you whine.

Smirking, he did what you asked as the two of you groaned. Steve’s hands gripped your thighs, holding your legs open as he planted his feet into the mattress and thrust up into you. 

“Fuck.”

“God, sweetheart, I wish you could see you both from my angle.”, the gangster moaned as he watched his boyfriend’s cock disappear inside you as he stretched you open. “Fuck me. Stevie didn’t even have the patience to take off the rest of his clothes.”, he chuckles, faltering the man’s rhythm as Eddie tugs his pants that had been pooled at his ankles the rest of the way.

Dropping your legs, one of Steve’s hands pulled your hair back as his other roughly kneaded your breast. 

“Move your hips.”, he growled as you mewled, trying your best to bounce and roll your waist. “Harder, little girl. Make yourself cum again.” He continued to grumble with a rough tone in your ear, commanding you to move faster repeatedly while smacking your tits with his palm. Screaming his name, you stopped moving as your body shook against him and you pulled hard on the cuffs above you. “Atta girl. Fuck, I can feel your pussy quivering around me. You’re gonna give me one more and I’m gonna cum with you.”

“I…I can’t.”

“Color, princess?”, Eddie whispers as he presses his nose to your cheek. 

“Green.”, you mumble as the tears stream down your face. 

“Yeah? Fuck you look so beautiful like this with your make up running down like this. Fuck, baby. You can do it. You can give us one more.”

Steve starts moving again with purpose knowing he won’t last long and you most likely will spent after this. After licking his fingers, the long-haired man places them on your clit, rubbing circles into your nub as your sweaty head leans back while the other man clings to your waist.

“There you go, Y/N. Come on, baby! One more. You can do it!”, Eddie encourages, both men moving so fast you don’t even realize it’s coming till your orgasm hits you like a freight train. “Good girl! Good fucking girl.”

Circling his arms around you, Steve’s pace becomes sloppy till you feel him warm your insides as he grunts in your ear. 

“Please…please…no…no more. I can’t.”

“No, sweetheart. You did so good. I’m going to uncuff you ok?” You nod as the gangster releases you from your binds and you wince at your sore muscles as you slowly bring your arms down. Steve carefully turns you both onto your side before pulling out of you, mumbling soft apologies as he tries not to hurt you. “Whenever you’re ready, we’re going to take a bath, ok? It will feel good on your body.”

After a few minutes of them smiling tenderly at you as they caressed and kissed parts of your skin, you signaled you were ready and Eddie lifted you into his arms as Steve ran the water. Doing what had become the norm, the gangster lit a cigarette as he sat behind you on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water as he began to clean you. What was new was when the officer pulled a wet wipe from a bag and kneeled beside you to clean your face.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, um, makeup remover. I bought it a while ago before all the bullshit happened for when you spend the night with us. Chrissy said this was a good brand for girl’s skin but if you have another just let me know.” It took him a moment to realize you two were staring at him with small smiles on your lips. “What? Hey, I’m a nice guy!”

“Yes, you are, pretty boy.”, Eddie coos sassily as he leans over to give him a peck as the man rolls his eyes. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

His eyes remain downcast as he throws it away and places the bag on the counter. 

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. WE want to…want you to be comfortable…and happy. Are you? Happy I mean.”

Tilting his chin, you kiss his lips as well making his smile grow. 

“I am happy. Thank you for everything. It means a lot to me.”

Eddie’s already prepared when you lean your head back to kiss his lips as well making you giggle when he lingers making a loud mwah sound. 

“Just because we settled the stuff with Jason doesn’t mean I’m out of danger does it?”

Both men freeze in place as they blink before Steve climbs into the bath in front of you and Eddie slides in behind you.

“No, it doesn’t. There’s always going to be people that want to challenge me and just because we scared Carver doesn’t mean he won’t fuck up again.”

“And like I told you before, now that people know you’re with Eddie, it may cause some ears to perk up with the police which may put more eyes on you than you’re used to.”

“But, sweetheart, we promise you we will do everything we can to keep you safe. I’d hurt or kill to protect you just like with Steve.”

“And, honey, I would hide evidence or lie to anyone in the department to protect you. Not just from people but any kind of jail time.”

“You’re ours, Y/N, and we will take care of you no matter what.”

You can feel their eyes penetrate you as your own remain off to the side as you absorb what they are saying. 

Gently, fingers grip your chin, turning you to meet Steve’s soft honey hues.

“You can still leave if you want to. We can come up with a story to explain the party if you still want to have some…semblance of normalcy.”

“Whoa. Steve Harrington is breaking out the big words.”

You laughed at Eddie’s joke as the officer narrowed his eyes in playful annoyance.

“I don’t want to leave. I…”

You want to say it so bad. You want to tell them that you love them. But it’s only been a couple of months and they’ve been together for almost a year. No. You don’t want to scare them away after everything they just did to keep you safe. No…

“I…I trust you both.”

When you flash them a smile both men grin back as Eddie hugs you against his chest and Steve kisses your forehead.

##############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon 

[fabraies-archive]

TRIAL BASIS DATING ft ATSUMU MIYA

sfw + no warnings. if the man wants a relationship with you, he’s going to have to work for it. ﾟ｡ ꒱

FIRST TEST: HOLD-MY-PURSE-WHILE-I-TRY-THIS-ON

If New York City had one thing to offer, it was glamour, shopping trips, and luxury. However, this vision of the city seemed to be slightly different for boyfriends, who’d rather view a trip to Soho as an arm workout. Atsumu had to agree.

“Hey, babe?”

The blond perks up at the sound of your voice, looking up at you trying on another pair of nude stilettos, “Hm ?”

“Which ones ?” You say, holding up another pair that was lying nearby, in the mess that was made up of shoeboxes and translucent paper, and placing it next to the shoe that you were currently wearing.

Atsumu can’t help but blink. “Babe.. aren’t they..?” Your pupils narrow down to slits as your boyfriend almost slips up. Luckily for him, he catches the hint, and tries as best as he can to make up for his blunder.

“I mean- No, it’s just.. That’s not what I meant to say! They’re so obviously different, the left one definitely more yellow.. ish?”

You pick up the left one, inspecting it, and Atsumu swears he felt a drop of sweat make it’s way down his forehead.

“Yeah.. Yeah you’re right. Thanks, baby, love you!” As you place a quick kiss on his cheek, you happily saunter over to the store assistant to let her know you’ve made your choice, and, unbeknownst to you, Atsumu feels like screaming into a pillow. Your purse is safely in his hands, he managed to provide worthwhile fashion advice, and most of all, he was still alive.

While he was very self-centered, for once in his life, your boyfriend was sure that the outcome wasn’t any of his doing. In fact, he wholeheartedly believed there was some extraterrestrial being somewhere that had taken pity on him, and helped him out.

Right on cue, you come back, having paid your new shoes, “Come on, hurry up, there’s this other store I wanna check out next!”

Even though these sort of days were definitely rewarding; watching his girlfriend change into form-fitting outfits was always a good thing, Atsumu was already begging for the extraterrestrial’s return.

The colors and brand names you were throwing at him were making the poor man’s head spin; Apple green or Forest green? Ocre or light brown? Prada or Balenciaga? Moschino or Valentino? Atsumu didn’t even know what a Moschino was, and when he’d asked you if it was a coffee machine brand, you had almost thrown earlier’s nude stilettos right at his face.

“Come on, just five more minutes, I promise!” You answer your boyfriend from the changing room, as he had let you know about his need to go back to the hotel as soon as possible.

The blonde, who was sat in a puff chair in front of your changing room, was beginning to get really frustrated at the seemingly endless shopping trip, when he hears the curtains being drawn back. There you were, standing in all your glory, waiting for a comment on his part. Unfortunately for you, your appearance seemed to have made his mouth out of service. His jaw was slacked open, unable to utter a single word out.

“Well ?” You raise an eyebrow.

Maybe an arm workout in Soho wasn’t so bad after all.

note. This is for the girlies who take hours in the changing rooms. I see you, and I get you! Take your time queen you deserve it ﾟ｡ ꒱

©fabraies ALL RIGHTS RESERVED do not copy modify or translate my work/theme

-> second test

[popodoki]

Hey, teacher! aka my motorcycle Catwin AU, part 5

still sfw! Fancy that x

Edwin’s grateful for the small pile of laundry Thomas left on the bed for him to busy himself with. Ignoring the warmth of his cheeks, he peers at the washing label of the faded band t-shirt on the top of the pile, as he passes back through the guest room, and notices Thomas's leather jacket hanging off the bedpost. 

He shouldn't. But he does. 

Leather has always enticed Edwin. Whether it be a fine pair of Italian gloves, an expensive belt that compliments his suit so nicely, or a finely crafted genuine leather book cover. Oh, he’s long filled up the most beautiful notebook collection from England. Pure poetry, the combined scent of paper and leather. The soft creak of the spine, the shift of paper, the scrape of his pen.  

The smell of leather has always enticed Edwin. 

The jacket in his hands is black and worn, obviously not cared for in the traditional sense. There are some cracks, mild damage to the cuffs, all to be expected if worn every day. There is a large piece of artwork on the back, stitched there by someone who knew what they were doing, even if they weren't classically trained in tailoring. It's a large depiction of an orange cat, with fierce golden slitted eyes, predatory gaze locked on the viewer, as if following along with every angle. Charming, in a sense.   

Along the bottom, in a very ornate yet blocky script, framed beneath the orange cat’s unsheathed glinting claws, are the words "Cat-o-nine Carnivores." The name doesn't ring a bell, but he supposes it shouldn't. In any case, Edwin appreciates the wordplay. 

On the front of the jacket is a name patch, that reads "Cat King." Well at least Thomas wasn't lying about that. Edwin idly wonders if it's a name he gave himself, or one given to him by his peers. Or subjects? Is Thomas the leader, self-dictated King? Does he have a clowder of other leather-clad, motorcycle-riding, vagrants, with kind eyes, strong hands, broad chests…Next to it is a patch that looks like a cat’s paw print, claws out, tinted red as if bloodied. Above it, a smaller patch, a neon red crown framed in a pair of equally bright turquoise rings. Under the guise of wanting a closer look at the decorative patches, Edwin brings the jacket close to his face. His ruse falls away immediately the moment the scent of the worn leather fills his nose. Leather softly creaks in his white-knuckled clenching grip, as Edwin buries his nose near the collar and breathes in the mixed scent of the jacket itself, and the hints of Thomas’s cologne, sunk and buried into the inner layer of soft leather, from repetitive usage. He stands there, fills his nose and lungs with the enticing combination of smells, until even the air leaving his mouth tastes the same as the air flowing in with every deep pulling breath. 

Edwin hears the shower stop, and he almost trips over his own feet in his haste to get out of the guest room. He barely remembers to re-grab the small pile of laundry on his way out. The washing machine and clothes dryer are out on the back porch, and he takes in a breath of fresh air to calm his nerves as he deposits the clothes into the washing machine, with a more than modest helping of soap.   

The next stop is the kitchen. Settling on a light dinner, something filling, yet easy enough on the stomach, he thinks. Pulling ingredients out of the fridge, Edwin sets to chopping his small selection of vegetables for the stir fry. He’s almost ready to add them to the chicken, setting the bowl next to the wok, while he peers into the fridge again in search for a lemon, mentally going through the contents his spice rack.  

He hears a strange noise from the doorway, realizes with a start that Thomas is standing there, impersonating the sounds of a trumpet. "Presenting," he affects a posh accent, "the most well-dressed man in the room." Thomas ends the statement with a flourish, taking up an appropriately dramatic pose, and Edwin immediately bursts out laughing. Full bodied, head thrown back, so open and loud he fears he might come across as rude, but he can’t help it, and he doesn’t think Thomas minds, judging from his expression. It’s not something Edwin can currently decipher, struggling to blink away tears, but its near enough encouraging, as is the way Thomas keeps up his exaggerated stretches, arms swinging to and fro, to highlight, to, to entertain him. 

To Edwin’s credit, the pyjamas almost fit. At first glance. The pants are… They would be fine; if Thomas had seen fit to actually roll up the ankles. As is, the bunched-up fabric seems to pool around and over his feet, in a damning contract to the way the fabric seems to struggle at the seams near Thomas’ hips. Lengthwise, Edwin reasons their size discrepancy is easy to ignore. But there’s no denying their difference in build. The shirt ends a good four to five centimeters above the waistband of the pants, leaving an exposed stripe of abs, offering a hint of Thomas’s bellybutton. To say the rest of the shirt properly covers the remaining chest, would be straining the truth about as much as the material seems to strain with every push of Thomas’s chest, even just as he takes a breath. Edwin’s honestly surprised a button hasn’t popped off. It seems painted on him around his shoulders, and the sleeves stop well above his wrists. It's almost as if he's wearing a child's shirt. It cannot be comfortable. 

Edwin clearly underestimated their differences, but he can't stop laughing long enough to apologize.  As he gasps for breath, he actually snorts, which sets Thomas off on his own fit of laughter, except his is louder, unrestrained. He clutches the wall with one hand, his ribs with the other, beaming smiles sent Edwin’s way at the end of every bout, before he inhales, loses the air again to laughter, and Edwin reflects on what it must look like; two grown men, giggling so hard they can't speak, in the middle of his kitchen.   

Finally, Edwin is able to get himself under control, straightening, hand moving without much thought to lower the settings of the furnace, add the vegetables, while he wipes an errant tear off his cheek.  "I'm so sorry," he chuckles apologetically, "That cannot be comfortable, let me get you a T-shirt or something.” He busies himself for a bit with stirring the food, checking for any signs of burning. Nodding to himself in relief when he catches no sign of the meal lessening in quality, he turns his head to Thomas. “Do you want a different set of trousers, as well?" He adds. 

"All good, Edwin. I’m actually used to walking around without a shirt." Thomas grins, fiddling with the too-small shirt. “Do you mind?” Thomas asks, and Edwin shakes his head in a negative before he’s consciously thought of it, but truly, why would his opinion matter on something another likes to do in the comfort of his own home? He’ll just go look for the biggest shirt he owns, offer it as an option.  

Edwin turns back to the food for a final stir, before he heads back upstairs, hears the rustling of fabric, the scrape of a chair, imagines the shirt is getting neatly folded over the back. Oh.  

Edwin is partly relieved his guest feels comfortable enough in his home. He keeps his eyes on the food. Maybe just a bit more stirring. He has to make sure it doesn’t burn.  

[fandom-gt]

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page +1 addon

PRICE: 65

FANDOM:  MCU

CHARACTERS:  Steve Rogers

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”I'd love a continuation of the growing Steve Rogers quick fill! He's a few kilometers tall and is just getting off on his new power and size, Avengers try to stop him but are absolutely powerless. And when he's done he ends up tripling in size again. Please keep me anonymous when you post this!”

WARNINGS: Violence and implied tiny death, mass destruction, nsfw

——

Steve Rogers has been a large man for a number of years now. Ever since they slipped his small, skinny body into that machine and let him come out the other side feet taller, a hundred pounds heavier, muscular and strong, he’s known that he was always supposed to be big. It felt good at first, but after a while, a secret part of him had kind of wished for just a little bit more. 

Finally, here smack-dab in the center of New York City, Steve’s finally got his wish. He stares down at the roaming little dots that make up people, the slightly larger little squares that must be cars, and a thrill of absolute satisfaction runs through him. 

Everything below him, every building, every structure, every person, is tiny. The ruined tatters of his uniform are all but invisible to his naked eye now, and it’s only because of the serum enhancing his eyesight that he can even make out vague details of those ant-sized people.

He kneels, naked, knees crushing pavement and concrete and roads and sidewalks and anything that happened to be in their way as he grew, massive craters beneath his muscular thighs and calves, with barely even the hint of resistance despite being made of reinforced steel beams and the finest construction the human species is capable of. It all crumples like paper under him.

What really gets him going, once he notices it, though… is the tiny cracked crater underneath the place his cock gently dipped and smacked onto the road. Even it, even just the engorged head of his member, is enough to devastate what must be most of a city block. It brings a surge of heat through him, has his balls tightening, and he can’t keep himself from reaching down to wrap a hand around it.

Down below him, the world is in chaos. He cannot hear the screams, he doesn’t know the sight that he makes to the regular-sized humans trapped underneath his crotch. Tony stares up from his place on the cracked and broken sidewalk, mouth agape in utter disbelief even as he engages the nanite of his Iron Man suit. 

Steve’s too large for him to take in all at once. All he can see at first is the shadow of his cock filling Tony’s skyline bigger than any skyscraper, the size of an entire mountain, with every vein and every ridge and every wrinkle of it in hyper-vivid super-high definition detail. 

Before him, he watches in horror as a new monumental event enters the chaotic landscape — Steve’s massive hand descending from the heavens to wrap around his titanic dick. The rush of wind blows back signs and people’s hair as his hand moves forward in one stroke so big it almost seems slow-motion thanks to the scale. The sound of it, skin on skin, is deafening. People too close to him feel their eardrums splitting under the immense pressure of Steve’s low grumble.

That’s not what scares Tony. What scares him is the glistening pearl of precum that buds at the volcanic crater of Steve’s slit. It builds in size, in volume, an avalanche of sticky fluid, and he knows with a great, mounting horror that the second it drops, it’s going to wipe out an entire apartment building. 

One single drop of precum will devastate dozens of people, will wipe out entire households, and Steve doesn’t even seem to notice — let alone care.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. He has to do something -— and so he kicks off, the rockets at his feet carrying him up, up, up a full kilometer in the air. Even with all that upward thrust, he still barely manages to make it to Steve’s waist. 

One sharp jerk of Steve’s wrist sends a gust of air that throws him out of balance, sending him careening head over foot and slamming into a wall of flesh.

With his back against something sticky, he realizes in horror what he’s stuck to right as he sees the barreling momentum of Steve’s hand in his next jerk. He’s swallowed in an avalanche of skin, and lost on Steve’s body.

Steve did not even see him. Steve didn’t even notice the little speck lost in his lazy masturbation. He’s too busy staring down at the ground beneath him as another growth spurt ripples through him, carrying him outward, carrying him upward. He must be miles tall now, he can’t even imagine the math, he can’t even compare it.

What he does know is, all those little grid lines beneath him are city blocks, and his dick spans a dozen of them. He also knows, with a rippling jolt of pure arousal, that if he were to come… if he were to just jack off and finish, it would flood an entire city.

And god, that thought gets him harder than anything ever has in his entire life. His hand works harder, works faster, jacking his cock with a renewed frenzy that sends the population between his thighs into despair. They know what’s going to happen, and it’s all they can do to run — knowing that even if they move as fast as they physically can, even if they hop into cars and somehow escape the gridlock of traffic, even if they manage to put literal miles between themselves and the place Steve’s testicles crush their city, they won’t make it far enough in time.

And they’re right.

Another groan rumbles, and this time every single person in the state of New York can hear it. Windows shatter under the sound of it. Earthquakes shake tremors in the ground through voice alone, to say nothing of the untold devastation as Steve shifts on his haunches to dip forward and press the head of his dick into the ground, rutting through entire counties and leveling them in one aimless, heated hump.

As he rolls his hips, as his enormous glutes tighten in fervor, as he drags himself along irreverent to the thousands of crushed people beneath him, Steve Rogers wipes Queens off the map entirely with one earnest rut. 

It’s too much. He shifts again, one elbow planting on the ground, his knees and thighs comfortably stretched out beneath him, and he works himself hard, mounting, building, wide blue eyes forced open so he can watch it when it finally hits, when it finally happens.

His orgasm tears through him in a torrent of semen bigger than any tidal wave. His release washes through city streets, drowning everything, sticky and unstoppable. A flood, a thousand rivers, the best god damn thing he’s ever felt. Every person in its wake is consumed by it. And all he did was just let himself come.

[actual-corpse]

I don't know or remember who said it and where... but like...

Why do all the cultists in movies cut their palm to get blood for the ritual?

That shit hurts.... And it's pretty hard to heal wounds on the hands due to washing and general hand use.

[acapelladitty]

Riddler/Reader: Applied Physics

Summary - Restrained against the wall and unable to escape, you find yourself playing willful victim to the Riddler's latest machine.

This commission from the lovely @doctorvondooms, was deliciously fun to write and I'm thrilled to share it. Also available on A03

Pinned into place opposite his work desk, the restraints which wrapped around your thighs to keep them spread and pinned against the wall were surprisingly comfortable; the thick bands of padded metal allowing your weight to rest atop them effortlessly without digging into your skin too deeply.

Your wrists suspended overhead, his ropework is as inescapable as ever as your arms hang uselessly from a hook in the wall, bound into a tight, praying gesture. The nylon rope, a lurid green which had you biting your tongue from making a cheeky comment, wound around your arms in a pretty pattern to keep them together as you glance up at them with an appreciative hum.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Edward's smug voice catches you unaware and your eyes flick to his position as he moves to stand before you, filling the space between your prone frame and his work desk. "A perfectly crafted machine, designed to be a custom fit to reward and punish wanton little whores who insist on interrupting important work time."

Unapologetic as a nervous smile tugs at your lips, you can barely make out the metallic mechanism which sits beneath your spread legs due to the thick, dark silicone of the cock which is pointing directly at your throbbing cunt; the heft of it commanding your attention as your back arches off the wall.

"While you enjoy your little ride, I will be completing some very intricate mechanical designs which a man of my brilliant stature finds necessary to produce from time to time."

His body inches towards you, the soft crack of a lid alerting you to the bottle of lubricant which sits in his hands as he pours a little out and bends, presumably to coat his machine for an easier entry.

As he stands, you push forward from the wall - as far as the restraints would allow - to capture his lips in a filthy kiss. He tastes of coffee and, despite his clear surprise, he allows the kiss to continue for a long moment, his blunt teeth nipping at your lower lip until he pulls away.

"Whore." He accuses but there's no anger in his gaze and a very prominent bulge in his grease-stained slacks as he pushes his thinning hair back with the green goggles which are never too far from his head. "Regardless, everything appears to be in order."

Retaking his seated position at the desk, his fingers press on the small remote which sits off to the side of papers he plans to focus on.

Immediately a faint whirring comes from the machine beneath you and your breath hitches in anticipation; wetness pooling against your slit as you sit, fully exposed and revelling in the shame of the arousal which curls within your gut.

The tip of the silicone threatens your hole and you exhale deeply as your body relaxes to accept it. The material feels wonderfully cool against your heated skin as it pushes within you at a snail pace, allowing you to acclimatise to the punishing girth inch by teasing inch. Your teeth grit against the inhumane stretch as a mewl of discomfort breaks free of your lips.

Hearing the noise, Edward glances up from his papers, the small pencil in his hand pausing its frantic scribble.

"Ah, ah, ah." He tuts, disappointment colouring his tone as he wipes the graphite from his fingers to his off-white tanktop. "Surely your fragile little body isn't ready to give up already? We've barely even started."

Determined to not give an inch, you bite back the hiss which builds in your throat as the almost unbearable thickness stops its progression and begins to pull free, the friction against your walls sparking a deep pleasure which makes you clench your fingers together in their bound position.

The lube he has applied to the length did its job well as it allows the machine to set a steady pace which was in equal parts torturously slow and wickedly intense as it forces you to feel every movement. Your exposed tits jiggle slightly as your body shakes in place, a phantom ache in your nipples making you wish that Edward's fingers or teeth were in the fray, pinching them with his usual viciousness.

Edward gaze having returned to his work, you watch as his finger almost absent-mindedly trails along the desk to tap at the small button on the remote control.

The effect is instant as the silicon dildo picks up pace, now moving in a relentlessly smooth motion as it pistons in and out of your greedy hole. There's something deliciously shameful about your position, legs spread and unable to close in such as way that nothing is hidden from easy viewing, including your clit as it throbs with anticipation - awaiting a stimulation which wasn't on the cards.

Pleasure builds steadily as each stroke brushes your most sensitive spots with an almost cruel precision, the machine needing to take no pause for breath or to regain stamina. It's stunning in its ferocity, in the lack of human warmth or care which it affords you as you sit like a piece of meat, total victim to the whims of the man who is visibly pretending to keep his attention on his work while stealing glances every few moments to watch you writhe in place.

Another button press and something guttural snaps free of your lips as the machine picks up pace. It's brutal and unforgiving in a way that makes it difficult for your breath to regulate as freshly stimulated nerves alight across your punished cunt. Your fingers scramble against their restraints but it provides no relief as your first orgasm creeps up without mercy.

Riding the wave of pleasure, noises that exist in the space between moans and stuttered pleas for help fill the space around you as your head slams back against the wall, the onslaught of relentless overstimulation quickly growing unbearable.

Unseen due to your eyes being squeezed shut in desperation, Edward watches your torment with a predatory expression; his gaze sharp and his features twisted into open hunger. One hand taps away at the remote control which keeps his machine whirring away at a punishing pace while the other hand appears suspiciously absent but no less busy as it seems to have disappeared below his work desk.

The quiet of the room is long abandoned. Your broken grunts for mercy pairing sweetly with the soft huffs and growls of pleasure that slip free of Edward's lips as he watches you suffer at the hands of the machine that he so kindly deigned to provide for you. It was a casual symphony that would be ongoing for many, many minutes to come. To last until Edward was satisfied with his observations and the relentless pleasure-turned-torture had long since fried your mind into the foolish mush that he often claimed it to be.

[lucaaazd]

Bertolt made up his mind. He was going to do it.

His entire life, he’d been busy hiding behind his father’s leg and his brother’s glare. He’s done hiding. Today was the day. He will do it, even if it kills him.

Clutching the fated piece of paper as if his life depended on it, he raised his chin and stepped forward. Screwing his eyes shut, he jammed the card into the machine.

“It’s backward,” The bus driver said.

Impossible. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He opened his eyes just a slit and with trembling fingers, withdrew the yellow metro card and turned it upside down.

“The. Other. Way. Sonny,”The bus driver glared down at him.

Oh no. Bertolt opened his mouth and no sound came out. What do you mean the other way? Like the other way other way? Not upside down? His throat was paper dry. A line of people was trailing behind him, smacking their lips grudgingly. “Gimme that,” the bus driver snatched the card from Bertolt’s hand.

“Hey!” Bertolt protested weakly.

“Have a good day,” said the bus driver angrily as he waved him off to the back of the bus.

Bertolt almost whimpered. He wobbled his way through people’s legs, dodging incoming shoulders and almost falling face first into a woman’s lap. She looked about his mom’s age and horrified at his audacity. “So - sorry,” Bertolt squeaked.

There it was. The window seat in the very back, safe and secluded, promising a sweet undisturbed journey for the socially inept young boy with low self esteem and a fully charged iPhone SE. Bertolt climbed into his seat and opened his messages with clammy fingers. He paused between “💕🕊️” and “Mommy” and with only a moment of hesitation, swiped to the latter and typed, “On the bus.”

Sent. Bertolt waited a few seconds for the dotted message bubble to pop up, but it didn’t. He added, “Where do I get of again?”

Still no response. Bertolt chanced a look around him. The bus is half full but no one’s making eye contact with him. He perceived the screen hanging above the ticket machine and to his horror, only a map of the city with a little gps icon of the bus was shown. The stops weren’t named. How are people supposed to know where to get off then?

He went back to the chat and typed, “How do I get off”.

He knew it’s 22nd street something. 5th avenue? Maybe he would know when he saw it. He’d never been to the restaurant his brother worked at but he knew it was a fancy Italian one with nice green booths and tons of vines and bouquets up front. He just had to pay attention.

However, he couldn’t help but notice that the bus hadn’t stopped for a long time. If felt like it’s been chugging along for at least twenty minutes, unless his mind was playing tricks on him. Time always went by slower when he’s nervous.

Ding. Yellow letters flashed across the screen, Stop Requested.

The bus skidded to a stop and the back door opened, letting off an old lady lugging her grocery cart. A blond boy his age got on and paid with his phone. Bertolt didn’t know you could do that. He just sort of like, tapped it. This other boy looked familiar and way more confident than Bertolt had felt moments ago. He cowered further into his seat, pulling his hood over his head. He found his brother Benny’s chat and texted, “Hey, on my way. Where do I get of?” He waited for exactly twelve seconds before going to his dad’s chat, “dad, on my way. what stop? 👀👀”

In that exact moment, Bertolt felt a broad figure closing in on him. His heart jumped to his throat. The beefy blond boy from earlier had skirted around him and plopped down a mere two seats away, sitting with his legs wide open in a content sort of way. Bertolt said the S-word in his head and in a moment of franticness, pressed the little telephone next to his mom’s name. He hung up immediately, remembering his mom’s still at work and didn’t like to be disturbed. Neither did Benny, and he’s probably in the kitchen right now. Dad’s his only hope.

Their conversation in the doorway before he departed into the unknown flashed in his mind. “Are you sure, buddy?” His dad had said, concern etched into his lined face, “Aren’t you a bit too young for such a feat? It seems only yesterday we let you download Instagram on your cell phone, and now you wanna take the bus all my yourself? Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

Bertolt had nodded solemnly, “I am sure, father. I’ve decided. I’m going to be just like Arthur.”

“Like - like Arthur, you said?” His father clutched his chest, tears welling up in his eyes, “Oh, my little Bear Turtle is all grown up.”

“No more Bear Turtle,” He remembered tightening his grasp on his backpack straps, “it’s Bertolt.”

Bertolt exited out of his father’s chat. He would not give in. He would not ask for help. He said he was going to do this all by himself and he will honor his words. A surge of bravery welled up in him. He found himself typing, “Hey, wyd?”

A moment later, “💕🕊️” was typing. Bertolt’s heart swelled twice its size. Another moment later, her speech bubble vanished.

What a bummer. His soul punctured, Bertolt put on his headphones, opened up YouTube and scrolled through videos about Multiverse Battleground, Roblox Death Balls and Ice Spice edits. He clicked on one of the Ice Spice edits.

“Still can’t believe Ice Spice got an entire room of adults to sing,” He read in his head as the video started playing, “‘You think you’re the shit? Bitch you aren’t even the fart.‘“

He bursted out laughing. That’s the best thing ever. You aren’t even the fart. That was just awesome. She’s so cool. He finished the ice spice video and the next one started playing automatically. He’s really curious about her music now. Everyone at school talked about her ‘melons’, but Bertolt wasn’t sure he was quite there yet. He liked the fart song, that’s for sure.

He finished the next one, and then the one after next, before scrolling down and clicked into the thumbsnail of a woman screaming her head off while pointing at a kid holding a diaper with disdain written all over his face. That’s weird. He’s intrigued.

A pop up appeared on his screen, informing him that his phone was on 20% and asked if he wanted to put it on low battery mode. Bertolt groaned. He forgot how old the damn thing was. Reluctantly, he clicked yes and went back to YouTube. However, he couldn’t help but notice the sky was starting to darken.

Wait. Where was he?

Bertolt scrambled out of his seat. He could not tell where he was at all. He looked around as if someone would miraculously read his mind and tell him exactly what to do, but help did not come. He might not know where he was, but he was 99% sure he’d gone too far.

He looked down on his phone and saw the screen light up with a message. “Watching Case Closed with my Dad. Wbu?”

He typed furiously, “Annie, how do you make a bus stop?”

She responded right away. “Wdym? Like with your body?”

“No,” Bertolt felt like crying. He’d screwed up big time. “I’m on the bus.”

“Oh!” Annie replied, “Idk. Tell the bus driver.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Is there another way?”

“Let me ask my dad.”

A moment of silence elapsed as Bertolt stared at her message bubble, reciting prayers quietly in his head. His eyes flitted to the 3% on his battery before the screen darkened and he could see no more.

Bertolt bursted into tears.

“Hey,” a hand found his shoulder. Bertolt wheeled around, sobbing and wiping his face with the back of his hands.

“Oh, woah,” the blond kid put his hands up defensively, “So - sorry. I was wondering if you, uh, had a phone.”

“Not anymore,” wailed Bertolt miserably.

“Oh. Hm,” the kid wavered, “Do you know where we are?”

“No,” Bertolt sniffled, “D - do you?”

“No,” said the kid, “but I’m pretty sure we’re in Queens.”

“QUEENS?” Bertolt yelped. That’s like, the suburbs. Holy fuck.

“Yeah. I think we’re screwed,” the kid said.

[seraph-of-sizes]

Broken Homes of Different Sizes pt2

Borrower Lyney and Lynette, Human Freminet (Slight au with borrowers existing, everything else is the same as canon)

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

Freminet was exhausted.

When the House of the Hearth had changed hands, he thought it to be of no consequence to him. He would just follow the orders of the new caretaker and vanish into the background again.

Wrong.

The new caretaker was a literal Harbinger. Number Four, the Knave.

Honestly he could admit to himself that the first impressions of her left him terrified. The way she spoke, how she held herself. She was so confident in a way Freminet could never imagine for himself. 

She had spent the time to meet with each orphan within the Hearth personally, and his meeting with her had been the most stressful encounter he had to date. Not even watching his claymore drip with the blood of his targets held a candle to the focus he had to have to maintain his composure.

She had reduced his tasks to simple espionage. The blood he was used to was now replaced with fake prop blood. He was placed behind enemy lines as a helpless child that needed to be taken care of. It still had orders to follow, but now he had to navigate social situations as well. Intel gathering was alright, but that meant speaking to people.

So he would usually spend hours in the oceans to clear his mind before returning home, or on especially exhausting days he would skip the trip and go straight home. 

But spending more time in his home, he began to notice things. What he had originally chalked up to mice was more… methodical. Planned out, paper wasn’t chewed up but cut cleanly. Small slits in food bags that were practically unnoticeable, which should have been more obviously ripped. 

It reminded him of some older fairytales about creatures called Borrowers.

He almost ignored it, if there were borrowers here they were just trying to lives their lives, just like him. But he couldn’t help the small curiosity in his heart as he reread all of his books on the tiny race. It was the one thing he began to look forward to. 

He started buying more foods, stuff he could leave out for them, but it also meant he was eating better than he had in a while. His own health became a side thought  when completing an order after all.

It was after a horrible day where he had disappointed Father that he saw them for the first time. He had performed his task perfectly, however while returning to the Hearth to report back he had been attacked by some Treasure Hoarders.

He was already tired from his mission, and it was one that required him to leave his claymore at the Hearth. All he had to defend himself was a knife and his vision.

He yelped as an arrow lodged into his shin as he jumped off of a cliff and dove into the water. To avoid them following him or tracking him he would have to swim far past the meeting spot. He grumbled softly as he realized he would have to emerge from the water, dress his wound, and still trek for 10 minutes to the spot.

He was going to be late for certain.

“I’m disappointed in you, Freminet.” He hid his flinch at The Knave’s silent jeer. “Late and injured because you let your guard down.”

He swallowed roughly, keeping his mouth firmly shut. After all, machines do not speak unless they are told to.

“Hm. I suppose you have been working quite diligently. Take a week to rest, perhaps I’ve pushed you too far with all of these tasks back to back.” She hummed. “You are dismissed.”

“Yes Father.” He bowed and carefully walked away, only to nearly collapse once he was out of her sight. He placed a hand to his chest and could feel his heart fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage. He took deep breaths as he retrieved his claymore, aptly named ‘the Bell’ for its likeness to a clock, one that could be cranked to chime on certain hours.

The trek to his ‘house’ was a slow one, he took his time, but stuck to alleyways since he still had some fake blood still caked on his skin. He winced as he noticed his wound had bled through the gauze and was leaving a trail of red behind him.

He picked up his pace. The sooner he could get home, the sooner he could wash up and redress his leg.

He fumbled with his keys before walking into the empty home. Perhaps he could make some sort of perpetual music box to fill the silence.

He leaned his claymore against the wall and collapsed onto his couch. He knew he should get cleaned up as soon as possible, but his mind was forcing him to feel all of the emotions he had repressed from the day. 

He stared into space, trying desperately to lock them all back into a tiny box, then throw away the key. But the damn box wouldn’t stay closed!

“Father said I mustn't cry…” He whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, no matter how long he held them open. A choked whimper left his throat as the first tear fell, then another.

He tried. Really he did.

At least he knew better than to cry loudly, the silent tears were accompanied by an occasional hiccup, but after a few moments they were forced back. 

A gentle ticking made him sigh as he wiped his face. He slowly stood up and turned towards the kitchen to get a quick snack before his wash.

His eyes widened in shock as the soft gasp that came from what looked like a tiny girl, stood shock-still on his countertop. Panic response in crisis, Fight, Flight, Fawn, Freeze.

She was obviously the Freeze type.

“H-hello?” He greeted awkwardly, taking a slow step forwards. Just as he was going to introduce himself a hiss left him as the sharp pinprick of pain that brought all of his attention back to the wound on his leg.

He blinked as he watched the girl race off, aided by anemo somehow. It wasn’t until he noticed the ousia residue from her attack as it reacted with his neuma alignment that he realized she must have a vision.

Which was almost more startling that discovering her in the first place. After all visions are given out by Celestia, so therefore the heavens must view Borrowers as people.

Ugh, his head was starting to ache, and his leg was starting to burn. He glanced down only for his eyes to widen as the small arrow buried in his leg, the fletches of the arrow smoking from Pyro infusement.

So there are two.

Mulling over that thought, Freminet removed the tiny arrow, placing it on the counter. He then went and cleaned himself off, redressed his leg with proper bandages, even ate some restorative medicine.

Once that was done he returned to the main room, his curiosity eating at him. He had to figure out more about his roommates before it would let him sleep. The fact it felt like a recon mission has nothing to do with it.

Slowly he denoted every possible entry and exit point, and multiple holes in the walls. After thoroughly memorizing it all, he began to try to locate their built spaces in the walls. Echolocation wasn’t just for bats, a lot of marine life used something similar. Sharks, whales, and more.

Freminet frowned as he walked to the other side of the massive bookshelf. Another knock confirmed his suspicions.

Carefully he pulled the massive paperweight away from the wall, grinning triumphantly as he heard the pitch of the knock change dramatically.

Found them.

[alder-saan]

The Path of Poisons

Shrubby everlasting (part 3)

Larissa x gn! oc

the Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]

Words count : ~2.1k

Larissa Weems opened her eyes and closed them again just as quickly, blinded by the white light she saw above her. Was this heaven? She couldn't quite remember what had happened. Marilyn, a syringe, she had fallen… She had seen Wednesday above her, shaking her, and then she had seen nothing, only heard. Sounds of a struggle… Someone talking… Nothing.

A black hole.

So she was dead, eh?

A stupid death.

Her first thoughts went to her school, and to all the children and teachers who would now have to manage without her. All because of her carelessness…

She opened her eyes again slowly, letting the light reach her eyes through a small slit between her eyelids, which she opened more and more. When she got used to it, she saw white walls, a white ceiling, a white floor, and medical equipment. So she wasn't dead. She was in the hospital. She had survived. The door opened wide and several people, probably nurses and doctors, entered, probably one of the machines could detect whether she was awake or not, and it was relayed to another room.

"Mrs. Weems, welcome back," said a woman, smiling.

Still a little dazed, she said nothing.

"We've got some tests to do now that you're awake. Don't worry, nothing too serious. Do you remember what happened?"

"One of the teachers at the academy attacked me and stuck a needle in my neck."

"It was belladonna, you were very lucky to get away with it. Do you have any other memories afterwards?"

"A student leaning over me, some noises, and then nothing."

"That's normal. I'll take some blood and we'll get you some food."

Larissa nodded. The different nurses took her arm to draw some blood. The principal felt her head spin and closed her eyes.

"How long have I been here?"

"Oh, four days. You can thank the student who saved you."

"A student saved me?"

"Yes, he had the reflex to inject you with physostigmine before calling for help. Normally we don't recommend this kind of thing if you are not a doctor but it saved your life. The blood test is done, we'll bring you something to eat right away. Any special diet? No meat? No salt?"

"No, I can eat everything."

"Good."

The little team left the room, leaving her alone in her silence. Larissa let her eyes roam the room, curious. Several bouquets were there. A huge bunch of various peonies, hawthorns, and then a small bunch of marigolds and shrubby everlasting. There were also a lot of letters, which she reached for. She had tears in her eyes when she realised that they were words from the students. She who had no family left, who thought that no one cared about her anymore, felt loved. She felt like reading everything, and started with a note written on light blue paper covered with multicoloured wolf stickers, written in glittery pink ink.

"Get well soon, Mrs. Weems! By the way, you haven't seen me I've finally wolfed out" Followed by small hand-drawn smileys "Enid."

She put the little card down and picked up another. Dark grey paper, black ink.

"The next time I involve you, I'll take Calabar beans with me, to counteract the poison. But in my book, you won't live again. I think it makes a better ending. And a character's death is a good development for the protagonist. Wednesday."

Larissa wiped away a tear with a small laugh.

"You're silly…"

They entered her room, a tray of food in hand. The principal put Wednesday's card down and looked at what had been brought in. Nothing very tasty. Rice, some sort of fishy-smelling pâté, salad and compote. Well, that's that. She would have to make do with hospital food. She ate slowly, a grimace hanging on her lips. The rice was undercooked, and the fish was overcooked. Even the salad tasted bad. In the end, the only thing right was the compote.

As she had not been given any instructions against it, she stood up. She wanted to have a closer look at the bouquets. The hawthorns had a note signed by all her colleagues and Sheriff Galpin. The peony one was a personal note from Thalia Kedlan. As for the last one, the little one of marigolds and immortals, there was nothing. No words at all. She looked at him, intrigued by this gift without a sender. Who could give her immortals and marigolds? The marigolds, she understood. They were recovery flowers. But the immortals…

Their meaning was much more vague, it could mean so many things. Nevertheless, she imagined that it had to do with the fact that she was not dead. A bouquet without a name was still troubling. Maybe it was Wednesday. But she wouldn't have given him yellow flowers. Maybe Morticia, then. No, it probably wouldn't have been that kind of flower either. Her thoughts travelled back in time.

"Rissa? Is it really Gomez you like?"

"Of course it is. Who else?"

"I don't know. I just… I thought you preferred girls…"

"Ugh, what do you take me for? It's disgusting!"

Poor Ava… Larissa thought she had been stupid on this one… She should have dealt with her feelings. That was probably the biggest regret of her years as a student at Nevermore: not being able to understand that loving women was normal. She hoped Avareida was okay. She'd obviously bought her book as soon as she'd seen her name on the cover, but had never tried to contact her again. Out of shame, no doubt, and then to say what? It had been thirty years… It would have been weird to come and say "Hi Ava, I'm not sure if you remember me. I'm sorry for being a horrible homophobe and telling you all that. I'm actually a lesbian too, haha".

She sighed. Why was she thinking about her now?

Probably because she was the only person who had ever truly loved her without an ulterior motive and without betraying her. No, Larissa had betrayed her first. She began to dream that she was the bouquet.

Ava…

The memory of her friend made her smile. She wasn't tall, Ava was 8 inches shorter than her, at the time. And then she had this joy for life. She didn't care what others thought of her, Ava just did what she liked. Larissa never had that strength. Even now, everything she did was to maintain a good image for herself and the academy. Avareïda had undoubtedly become an incredible young woman…

The next day, several of her colleagues came to see her, with a bunch of daisies and a huge cake. She felt a bit ridiculous, bedridden and in a white shirt, while everyone else was well dressed. Elizabeth Kinswelt, the divination teacher, groped for the chair they had brought her, helped by Thalia Kedlan, the history teacher. There was also Jean Lafon, the French teacher, and Amil Donove, the telekinesis teacher.

Thalia took her in her arms and gave her a warm hug.

"Welcome back!"

"Welcome back! Amil and Jean rejoined at the same time."

Larissa returned his embrace.

"Are you crying, Larissa?"

"No, Jean, it's the dust."

Thalia stepped back a little, watching her principal wipe away tears.

"I wanted to tell you, Larissa," Thalia began, "we're really glad to see you alive. The Academy wouldn't be the same without you. And you are a dear friend to our hearts."

"Stop it or I'll really cry."

"Aha, okay."

Amil put the bouquet next to the others.

"By the way, do you know who gave me these marigolds and everlastings? There's no word to go with it."

Thalia smiled at Larissa.

"A friend of mine who has just moved to the area. We met the day before yesterday morning, and as I had to come and see you, they came with me. They bought you this because they felt bad about coming without anything."

"Oh… will you thank them for me?"

"Of course I will."

"I heard that many students came to see you?" Amil asked

"Yes, I received dozens of notes. I didn't know they liked me so much."

Elizabeth, who had been silent until then, spoke up. Larissa liked her voice, always very calm. Her completely white eyes, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, gave her a gentle, wise look that the principal had always liked.

"Larissa, expect many people to tell you how much they love you."

"Is that a prophecy, Mrs Kinswelt?"

"No, Mrs Weems. I know this phenomenon. I almost died myself a long time ago."

"But it sounded like a prophecy."

"Come on, you know I don't share my prophecies. Especially not to the people most affected."

"Does that mean that you have seen things?"

"Interpret it as you wish…"

Thalia opened the box in which there was a red cake with some raspberries on top.

"It was Jean who baked this for you!"

"All this for me? Isn't it better to share it?"

"That was the idea," Jean smiled.

The car was driving along the main road. A storm was brewing and the first drops were falling on the roof.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth lifted her head from the glass. If she wasn't completely blind, you'd think she was absorbed in the scenery that was passing before her eyes on the way to her girlfriend's house.

"Yes, Dear?"

"Did you see anything about Mrs Weems?"

"Yes, I did."

There was silence in the car for a few moments.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I saw your friend. And Mrs Weems."

"Tell me more."

"You know I don't want to turn my visions into self-fulfilling prophecies."

"Come on, I won't tell them. Will you please tell me?"

"What are you offering me in exchange for this information?"

Thalia smiled, without taking her eyes off the road.

"There's not much I can do right now, but as soon as we get to my place, I'm yours."

"I saw them kissing."

"Whaaat?"

"It can mean nothing, too. It was just a kiss. Promise me you won't say anything to them or try to push them together."

"It's going to be hard, but I promise."

"Thank you, Thalia. Let them live their lives, so you won't be disappointed with the outcome."

Elizabeth rested her head against the glass. And then she saw light. A new vision was coming.

She was in the greenhouse of Nevermore. She knew it, though she had never seen it. It smelled the same as when she had gone there. On the floor was Mrs. Weems, lying there, staring into space. Elizabeth ran towards her as the door opened. She saw someone enter. Black hair slicked back, as if it were wet. All black eyes, dressed in brown. She knew it was Rei. They stopped above Mrs Weems and crouched down. Mrs Kinswelt saw the intruder check her breathing and heart before taking something from their jacket and injecting it into Larissa's neck. Then they got up and quietly went to the back of the greenhouse to steal the manchineel tree.

Then everything disappeared.

"Thalia?"

"Yes?"

"Your friend, when did they arrive again?"

"I don't know exactly. They told me it was four days ago at night. Actually, a little after the events at Nevermore. What was that for?"

"No reason."

She knew what she saw. They were the one who saved Mrs Weems. So why hide it? Because of the manchineel thing?

[vvo1d1ing]

... Okay, listen, I had this idea, I wrote it, I didn't beta it, and fuck it, I'm now posting it.

I usually post my fanfics on ao3 but since this is a very short One Shot that is mostly just a dumb thought I had, I'm posting it here.

English isn't my first language and I'm sure if I spent more time on this, it'd flow better. But I, I just need to post it and hope better writers see my idea and make fics of Durge and Gortash having much more of these "Deniable acts of kidness and love because if I try to actually show romantic or sexual interest in you, I'm going to kill you." moments that make me feral.

If you read this, hopefully you'll enjoy it. In mind while writing it I had my Durge but I tried to keep it any descriptor to a minimum so you can kind of maybe imagine your own Durge easier (if you like this, idk, my writing is all over the place)

TW: Slight dubious consent and mentions of human taxidermy, murder, stabbing, slitting throats. Nothing really gets described, mostly just thought about or mentioned in conversation.

What was there to say about Lord Enver Gortash? He was charismatic, he was inventive, he was the biggest bastard The Dark Urge knew but besides these few admirable qualities, he was a prick, he was a moron, he managed to be more annoying than having a pebble stuck in one's shoe. The Dark Urge wanted nothing more than to rip that smug grin off his face but they couldn't because that would ruin their plans.

Or so they told themselves every night. 

What they didn't wish to admit to themselves and even less to him, is that behind all their opinions and critiques, they admired him. All of him. Though they cared little for Bane, they admired Gortash's devotion to him. They admired his ingenuity, especially for tinkering with machines that they never would've thought of and even less heard of. They admired the way his hair always looked perfectly messy, the way his eyes would soften when he looked at them, the way he laughed when they said something supposedly funny. If that wasn't enough, they enjoyed how he made them feel their own heartbeat when he'd call them his 'Favourite Assassin' or 'Friend', though the one they loved and hated the most was when they'd be alone, planning for possible circumstances that could ruin their plan and he'd simply whisper-

"Dearest?" He basically purred it out, only loud enough for them to hear it. They only wished to acknowledge his presence with a glance but before they could, they felt his hand touch their spine and travel upwards. Too much. Too much touch!

Without a warning they grabbed him by the neck with one hand, pinning him down on the table in front of them and pressing down just enough to keep him in place as they took out their dagger and stabbed it right next to his head.

"I've warned you before. One more time and I'm cutting that hand of yours off. Do you understand?" 

"Such empty threats, if you meant it I know you would've already begun hacking it off."

When the Dark Urge warned him first for grabbing them by the waist, they left a nasty stab wound in his shoulder. When he tried to touch their thigh during a meeting with Kethric, they made a quick cut against his fingers. When he used the opportunity to help the Dark Urge with taking off their coat and barely managed to kiss the back of their neck, he got hit in the face with their elbow. 

The damage they have done was never permanent, besides maybe the stab wound, and never something that couldn't be healed…something they never would. And Gortash knew that. Oh he knew that and he would use that knowledge to its full advantage. 

Growling under their breath, they let go off his neck but as they pulled the dagger out of the table, they on purposely pulled it in a way where it would gently cut Gortash's cheek. 

"Insufferable scum…" The tiefling said as if spitting out venom before they focused their attention back on the papers they were looking at before. The list of murders they committed in the name of the Absolute, only a few more left to do before they were to go to Moonrise to see how the situation is going there, by what Ketheric wrote it's all going by plan but he couldn't be trusted. Nor could Gortash be.

"Your insufferable scum, my dear." He sounded just as smug as he probably looked, but they didn't react to it. They knew that that's what he was after. 

To change the topic and stop their thoughts from drifting away to the idiot, they started to speak about Ketheric, a topic they knew would make Gortash less annoying to talk with. The mere mention of his name was enough to make his smile turn into a disappointed frown.

Though even as they talked about Ketheric, their mind began to drift. They noticed how his shirt was slightly more open than usual, how there were a few strands of his hair that they knew were out of place, how his fingers just twitched a slight bit whenever they mentioned Ketheric. Though their mind and gaze lingered the longest on his jaw. He hasn't shaved for at least a week by what they could tell. 

Mid-way through him talking, they decided to mention it.

"You haven't shaved."

He looked confused for a moment, before touching his cheek with the back of his fingers and knuckles, checking with his touch just how noticeable it was. "I haven't indeed. Strange of you to point it out, friend."

"It annoys me." The Dark Urge explained plain and simply.

"Simply do not stare at it then, you're usually quite good at ignoring my face."

"But I'll still know it's there. Fix it."

"Making demands that I go to a barber right now just because it annoys you? Please, don't make me laugh, we have much more important things to do now." He mocked the tiefling, looking at them with slight disbelief at what they were asking of him.

"Then let me shave it for you. It's bothering me." 

"Let you- Haha! Absolutely not. As much as I enjoy our usual game, it would be ridiculous of me to trust that your twitching knife hand won't slit my throat the second I present it to you."

"If I wanted to kill you I wouldn't use such petty tactics. I'd just do it. Not to mention, I find slitting throats to not be any fun unless the person is hanging upside down."

"Morbid.." Gortash mumbled under his breath, instinctively touching his throat and somewhat scratching at the imaginary cut he just felt. 

"More importantly, I need you for our plan to work. Killing you now would be a waste of all the time and resources we put into this…It would also be disobeying the wishes of our gods." 

"I suppose you are right about that…" He sighed, slightly disappointed in himself as he now knew he had little excuses to get him out of this. Looking away in thought before looking back at the Dark Urge. "Fine. Shave me then. Though from where will you-"

"Sceleritas!" They snapped, their imp butler appearing from behind them and stepping to their side with a small bow.

"Yes, my vile master?"

"Bring me my razor...and the cream I use for my taxidermy."

"Right away, my lord!" 

Gortash did not ask for what reason The Dark Urge used cream on taxidermied animals, but he was wrong in thinking they were animals. After all, he never saw what their room looked like in the temple of Bhaal and it was for the best. The ten or so stuffed corpses wouldn't have made for a relaxed visit. 

As soon as Sceleritas came back with the items requested, the Dark Urge had Gortash sit in a chair and lift his head up. Forcing him to lean and relax a bit as they went behind him and took the items from Sceleritas before shoo-ing him away. 

They grabbed his face with their left hand, forcing it to lean to the side before leaning the blade against his throat where his beard hairs just started. 

And they just began to shave. Carefully and with patience, they made sure to not make a single mistake, not leave a single hair uncut. They were a bit aggressive with handling his face but one couldn't deny that they didn't do this with love. He could see a bit just how focused they were, just how much they cared to do this without properly hurting him.

And they knew just how much they used this as an excuse to touch him, to be close to him and to allow themselves for just a moment to escape into a world where they could take care of Gortash. When they were done and made sure to brush away all the fallen hairs they could, they opened up the cream and took a bit of it on their fingers before applying it on the shaved areas.

This was when he was able to feel just how soft and caring their touch could be. Even if they tried to deny it, the fact they took the care into not just shaving him but also taking care of skin, was such a clear sign that they could actually be loving, if they wanted to. 

Lost in the act, Gortash didn't seem to hear when the Dark Urge was done and told him as such but was brought back into reality when they snapped their fingers to call upon Sceleritas once more to take away the items.

"I…Thank you. This is probably the smoothest shave I have gotten."

"Don't care. I only did so it doesn't bother me."

A lie so clear it was basically written all over their face as they looked at him with a glare.

"Right."

"...Right." 

After a moment of silence, the tiefling was quick to try and move back to talking about their plans. And was as usual, back to avoiding looking at Gortash as they spoke. 

[paperficwriter]

"Earth Angel" (Vash x Wolfwood)

This is the fic I'm working on for the @vashwoodbigbang! More chapters will be coming over the next week, but this is the first one. I'll also be reblogging it with a link to my AO3 if you want to subscribe for the other chapters.

Cut is for length, but also this story/chapter contains suicidal ideation and suicidal thoughts, so just be aware.

Prologue

As far as plans for suicide went, Wolfwood thought it was pretty solid, but he hadn’t imagined how much work would go into preparing for it.

He cleaned up the shelter first, because it was empty that night, empty since that afternoon when the cops came and shut the place down while he was meeting with the bank, like the pigs had been waiting for him not to be there, because there was no way he would have fucking let it happen. Then, he took all the papers regarding his life insurance policy and put them on the desk in his office. Then, he called Meryl’s phone number, knowing it would go to her answering machine.

“Hey, girlie. I know we’re supposed to meet tomorrow to talk about what kind of options we’ve got. I’m gonna be late, so just…let yourself in. The key’s on the door frame.” He allowed himself a smile. “I know your girlfriend can reach it.”

Those two…they had really done everything they could. They all had, hadn’t they? But at some point, everything might as well have been as much as nothing.

On the way to the apartment, he bought three slices of cheese pizza and two cans of Pepsi with the last five bucks in his wallet. He sat on the bench staring into the street, blurs of yellow taxis going past him, reminding him that he could have made this easier on himself. In this city, he could just walk out into traffic if he wanted to. He went over the numbers in his head, how much they would get from the policy, how far it would get them.

When it ’s all over, I wonder if I’ll get to see Livio again.

The pizza tasted really, really good.

When he got home, Wolfwood put out a huge bowl of food and water for his cat, Kuroneko, giving her a pet all the way to her tail even though she responded by smacking him with her paw. “Oh, you bitch,” he said fondly, putting his whole hand on her head and rubbing it until she let out a crackly mrowr of protest. “Don’t worry. I left my other keys with those two as well. And a note about how to deal with your mean ass.”

The cat stared at him with huge yellow eyes like moons, the pupils slits that cut down the middle. He waited for some sort of sentimentality, some understanding that this was an end between them, but instead she hissed and wandered off to the freshly-changed litter box. Oh well.

Wolfwood locked the apartment and pulled the door closed, running through everything in his head. If he didn’t really think about it, this just felt like he was going on a trip. Did he turn off the television? Was the oven on? Did he have the pills in his bag? The booze? Was there gas in his motorcycle? He knew where he was going: Hoboken. Because he didn’t know anyone in Hoboken. Which meant the person that found him wouldn’t be someone who knew him either.

The New York City sky was thick with clouds. It wasn’t like you could ever see the stars past all the light, but that there wasn’t even a moon out…somehow it felt better, that this wasn’t a perfect night. Something about that would have felt wrong: a perfect, clear night for suicide. Like when tragedy hit on beautiful blue days.

Not that this was a tragedy. This was the right thing to do. This was the one thing he could do.

And he was going to do it, he had steeled himself, he was ready to do it, mounting his bike and about to pull away from the curb and into the cool night…when a sound like a whale song being put through a faulty distortion pedal stopped him in his tracks. It was coming from the sky, and when he looked up, the clouds lit up. Lightning? No, the light was constant, and that sound wasn’t thunder…

Suddenly, the source of the bellow-screech broke through the sky, and Wolfwood didn’t have time to consider what it might be. It was round, and it was blinking, and it was definitely car-sized, and that was as far as his eyes could go because he was too busy moving out of the way because it was coming right for him.

“Shit!” Wolfwood dropped his bike to roll out of the way, and he could feel the air fly across his back as the object passed above him and into the alley between his apartment building and the warehouse next door. Part of his brain thought that there would be an explosion following the descent, but no, it was like whatever it was bounced between the walls, sending chips and chunks of brick into a cloud, and then skidded to a halt against the concrete end of the alley.

Slowly, Wolfwood stood up and walked forward, trying to get a look at what exactly he was facing. He realized as he moved past a busted dumpster and a broken set of crates that this thing did have wings that had gotten sheared off, and when he kicked one with his foot he wondered over how thin the material was. Almost delicate.

So it was a ship. Or a plane, maybe, but he’d never seen a plane like this. A jet, maybe. Some kind of government thing, or…

Nope. He couldn’t imagine there were government tests that involved men being completely naked, stepping out of the broken canopy of a wrecked ship like it was nothing, like it was as simple as getting out of a car. There was a glow coming from inside the ship, but it was beginning to blink, reminding Wolfwood of a flashlight about to go out. That’s what he was seeing now: a tall blond man, muscular, with wide eyes that were trying to take in his surroundings, the only thing shining from his face from where Wolfwood was standing. He was thin, and in the erratic beams from the bent light poles and the skewed spotlights that were used to keep the alley cleared at night, Wolfwood could see that one of his arms was a shiny metal, reminding him of a movie with robots from the future coming to Earth, or maybe like Star Wars when Luke got his hand with all the wires in it.

But those were movies. Those were movies, and this was real life, and this guy in front of him was a human. There was some kind of explanation, and—

Say something, idiot. “You okay?” Wolfwood asked, trying not to let his eyes wander because, again, this was a naked guy in his alley.

Those eyes snapped toward him, and that’s when the man started to glow. Not in one uniform way across his whole body, but with the light following marks all across his skin, for all intents and purposes as though they had been drawn on with a thick marker, a continuous squiggly line from his face to his toes.

“What the fuck are you?”

The ship made a wheezing noise, and the flickering light went out. Wolfwood looked down at it, and when he did, the stranger did as well and for the first time it was like he realized what happened. He made a distressed sound and searched around with the frantic kind of energy that Wolfwood recognized as the I can fix this! dance. He had danced that dance himself, more than once, and Wolfwood knew from experience that usually this ended without fixing anything.

“Yeah, uh…I don’t think that’s going anywhere, friend.”

And then, the man fixed his gaze on him again. This time, he could see his whole face, the glowing lines like a mask. But even beyond that, Wolfwood could make out his expression: lost, afraid, and looking for help.

He knew that face way too well.

The man slowly reached out his hand to him, hanging it in the air between them, and everything telling Wolfwood just to get on his bike and drive off was overwhelmed by the urge to take it.

Suddenly, from behind them came the sound of sirens from down the street. There were wheels screeching, and Wolfwood knew what was going to happen next. That was, again, something he had experienced way too much: cops showing up and making things worse.

He quickly crossed the few feet between them and grabbed the man’s arm. It was cold, and the light brightened where his fingers touched him. A thrumming emanated under the skin, less like a heartbeat and more like an engine. “Can you stop glowing?”

The stranger blinked, and after a second, he went out like a neon sign suddenly unplugged, leaving him looking very normal…if there was anything normal about being naked in an alleyway in New York City in the middle of the night. Wolfwood took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around the man’s waist, and then started leading him to the door to get back in…except he wasn’t with him. He was standing there, touching the leather jacket.

Wolfwood growled as he ran back to his side, pulling him by his hand. “Come on, needle-noggin! Do you want to get arrested?” He took him to the front of the building, unlocked the door and quickly shoved him inside, still holding onto him as he jumped up the stairs, out of sight as the cop cars pulled up.

Killing himself was clearly going to have to wait.