#a couple I will always come back too even though I am not in Witch mode recently

[madonna-of-meridian]

I ship the hell out of Cornelia/Caleb in the WITCH TV show and love the "human boy who's Nerissa's son" spin on Caleb, like way to give him a completely different personality/backstory/species but still manage to do the Villain Origin angst lol. Like I actually believe TV C/C can go the distance as an endgame couple and their development is strong enough to support it, instead of what felt like shallow instalove in the comics

I can't say anything against this. 100% agree!

[ghosty-writes-23]

His Precious Doll Face. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: Slight NSFW (Somnophilia) Mentions of Stalking & Kidnapping, Obsessive/Possessive Behaviour, Panty Stealing.

Pairing: GhostFace!Leon + BestFriend!FemaleReader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: You were Leon’s sweet and innocent childhood best friend that was too naïve to know what his true intentions were, he just wanted to keep you safe and protected.

Word Count: 1.7k

Ghosty's Notes: Hi, just wanted to say I didn’t actually think I would be posting this on time but even this time I surprised myself, I have re-written this about 3 times today and I am finally happy with this version I wrote, a huge thank you to everybody that votes on the poll, it was fun seeing everybody interact with it and see everybody’s choice, I do plan on publishing something for Valentines Day but I am not making any promises, anyway just wanted to say a huge thank you and I hope you enjoy the story.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

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18+ Content // MINORS DO NOT INTERACT // 18+ Content.

Sitting at home relaxing on your couch watching Netflix, that you stole the password for from your best friend, Supernatural played in the background as you scrolled through your phone reading about the recent Ghostface murders that had been happening around the university campus.

Many people think its a student dressed up as the iconic horror slasher while others just think its just some crazy nutjob, but since the murders classes have been strictly online until the person reasonable has been found. After reading another new article claiming that the authorities should be doing more to catch this murder you exited the page and went to see your text messages. 

A couple where from Chris complaining that he wished you had accompanied him and Leon to the halloween party their frat was throwing, another message was from Claire showing the costumes the girls were wearing, Ada was going as a vampire, Claire was a witch and Jill went as fairy and chris photobombed the picture dressed as michael myers, the picture made you laugh as you sent a heart back, you didn’t feel like going to the party or any social gathering, just a comfy movie night in was all you wanted.

After reply to Claire you saw Leon messaged you, the pair of you had been best friends since you were little kids, being next door neighbours you practically grew up together, always staying at each other's houses for sleepovers, movie nights and even got accepted into the same university as each other, your parents were best friends and would do double date nights when you and Leon grew older, clicking on Leon’s message you read what it said. 

“Miss you.” was all the message said, it brought a small smile to your face. It wasn't a secret that you and Leon were a little bit closer than friends since you basically grew up together, but that is all you were just friends even though sometimes you wished it was something a little more. Shaking your head you looked at the time on your phone 1am it was time for you to go to bed.

Grabbing your TV remote you flicked off the TV before wrapping your blanket around yourself and got off the couch, as you did you heard a creak in the floor in your hallway, causing you to freeze slightly but then you thought it was just your cat coming inside. Shrugging off the feeling you headed up to your room, not seeing the shadowy figure that looked up at you from the bottom of the stairs.

Pushing open your bedroom door you went and flopped onto your bed exhaustion washing over your body as you don’t even bother to get under your blankets as you close your eyes. Just as your mind was about to drift off to dreamland you could have sworn you heard your bedroom door open but when you open your eyes there's nothing there causing you to think you have have started to go crazy, but soon there was a soft meow before your cat jumped up on the bed purring as it pushed its face against yours, causing you to smile as you pet its head. 

“You keep giving me a heart attack.” you said to the feline as you softly scold it, but it just purrs and curls up beside you before going to sleep, not having the energy to close your door you drifted off to sleep not seeing the shadowy figure was now in the corner of your bedroom. 

Looking at the sleeping woman, the shadowy figure felt his heart race as his breathing got slightly heavy, his blade in his pocket before he raised up and pulled the mask from his face revealing himself to be none other than your best friend Leon, there was a blood splatter on his face that he didn’t bother to clean up, he had to come and see you.

He knew once you found out what he had done you would never want to see him again, but he was doing all of this for you, to protect you those people who would have hurt you and he couldn’t have that, he loved you too much to see you ever get hurt, so he dealt with them so they would never hurt you in the first place.

Everything he did was to protect you from the cruelty of this world, he didn’t care if he had to get his hands dirty if it meant you kept that innocent and sweet smile. Walking over to your sleeping figure Leon kneeled down and took off one of his bloody gloves then gently rested his cold hand on your cheek causing your face to scrunch up at the sudden cold feeling but you didn't wake, his thumb slowly creased your cheek as he looked at you with a lovesick look.

You here his precious doll and he will always protect you and have your best interests at heart. Looking away from your face Leon noticed your oversized shirt had ridden up where it rested just under your breasts giving him a full view of your stomach and cute black panties you were wearing, they were his favourite because of how they looked on your body and that he had brought them for you.

Letting out a heavy breath, Leon tried resisting the urge to kiss your stomach, how your soft skin would feel under his lips, his teeth digging into the soft flesh and leaving little marks showing everybody you belong to him, the thought sent a rush of heat through his body. Taking a deep breath one little kiss wouldn’t hurt so he moved to half way down your bed and leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your stomach, he promised himself to not leave any marks, unlike last time, but this time he was determined not to. 

Your skin felt so soft under his lips, almost as if kissing a marshmallow he could almost taste the sweet taste of your body wash from your shower earlier in the night. Leon knew of this because of the camera’s he had placed around your place, so he could always have an eye on you. Feeling you stir Leon frozen in place before you turned over a soft noise leaving your lips as you settled back into your bed. Leon knew you were a light sleeper so he had to be careful and quiet. 

His gaze went back up to your face, making sure you were fully asleep again before he let out a soft breath, this is what you do to him, you drive him crazy with the most simple and innocent actions just you sleeping peacefully was enough to make his body feel hot all over, to make him crave touching you in a way no best friend should and it was all your fault, but was he complaining, no you could never do any wrong in his eyes. 

Moving onto your bed Leon made sure his movements wouldn’t disturb your peaceful slumber, as his body hovered over your sleeping form his breath picked up, it fanned over your face causing you to stir again, holding his breath you settled down once again your breath evening out and your snores light and soft, Leon didn’t want to risk waking you up so as he slowly moved off the bed, he let his lips trail down your body as light as a feather, but as he got to the top of your cute black panties Leon could feel his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sweet smell, he could see a small wet patch forming causing the cheap cotton to stick to your pussy.

Leon could feel his lips go dry, licking his lips he looked like a predatory looking down at its prey, his eyes had darken and his breathing was now more uneven, reaching a finger up he ran his finger up the slick fabric being as gentle as possible, a soft noise leaving your throat as he pulled his finger back it was wet with your slick without thinking Leon placed his finger in his mouth causing a whine to leave his throat, he wanted more but it was too risky so he came up with a better plan, carefully and slowly Leon hooked his fingers into the top of your panties before gently pulling them down your smooth legs and off your feet. 

Once your panties where off Leon brought them to his noise and breathed in deeply, your scent filling his nose causing his eyes to roll back once again driving him wild, He didn’t want to take your innocence just yet he wanted you to be awake so you could feel all the pleasure he would bring to you, so for now this would have to do. Getting off the bed Leon placed the panties in his pocket before he walked over to you and gently kissed your head. 

“Goodnight Doll, i’ll see you again real soon.” Leon whispered before he grabbed his mask and placed it over his face before he carefully walked out of your bedroom and gently closed the door….

The Following Morning.

You woke feeling refreshed and well rested, your cat peacefully slept on your jacket that was placed on the chair that sat by your window, the early morning sun warming its fur, your stretched your arms over your head letting out a soft noise as your back made a clicking noise, running your fingers through your hair a feeling washed over you, as if you were missing something, reaching under your blankets you noticed your panties where missing, you were pretty sure you went to sleep with them on.

“Must of kicked them off somehow.” You thought as you shrugged your shoulders and pushed your blankets off your bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready for your morning Uni classes and shift working at your mom’s bakery, where you will see Leon and tell me all about the supernatural episodes you watched last night and how your cat gave you two heart attacks.

As you made your way to the bathroom, you didn’t notice the small camera watching your every move, Leon was behind it smiling as if he had hearts in his eyes. “Soon doll, you will be mine.” he said as he placed his bloody hand on the computer screen, as there was the sound of a muffled scream behind him as a person sat tied up to a chair with tape over their mouth.

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[speed-world]

Hey, I got this idea from watching some Dark Souls lore videos, so can I request a HC of beast cookies being beaten by a chosen Undead reader.

Plot: when the Beast cookies went on a rampage The Witches knew they had to stop them but the cookie were too powerful to do so so they decided to work together to bake a new cookie, a cookie that can weaken them to a point that they can be in prison, a cookie that can come back from the dead as much as possible until the deed is done, they call them the Chosen Undead Cookie

Sworn Purpose

The Five Beasts. The primordial Cookies created by the Witches as emissaries of the Godly Creators; that fell from grace due to their Absolute power corrupting them completely. The Witches couldn’t bear to see their creations promised as saviors turned apostles of evil, and so they punished the Beasts by sealing them away in Beast-Yeast. At least…that was what should have happened.

The Beasts rebelled, refusing to go quiet into the night. They broke free from their shackles and dominated the lands of Beast-Yeast without challenge. The Witches refused to give up however, and would go deeply into a period of heavy trials and error in baking something …greater. They combined their magic to create a Cookie that could complete the task they failed too. A Cookie that would never rest until they sealed these Beasts, even if the Cookie was crumbled. A Cookie that will rise and rise again, as if freshly baked out of the oven, to complete their assigned life purpose. As the Witches spent numerous days and nights creating this Cookie, they’d mix so many flavors into to them that the Cookie was ultimately nameless to the Witches. When finally completed, passerby Cookies knew them only by a couple of names: Y/N Cookie, or their more known, and more appropriate moniker…Chosen Undead Cookie.

It was never easy completing your task, but you never once questioned it or the Witches. They told you all the features and names of the Beasts, that you must do whatever it takes to seal them away, and you followed as such.

During your first attempt, you could barely make a move against a jester before being crumbled in a mess of crumbs and jam. The last thing you heard was the jester laughing before you reawakened in a different location.

One of the many blessings you had received from the Witches was that you could communicate with and hear them. You could hear some the Witches applaud you for your efforts, and others express their apologies for what you must suffer through. It didn’t faze you though, you had a God-given purpose, and you’d curse at yourself if you never finished it. Maybe one day…you could live a fairly normal life, but it won’t happen until your job is done.

“Oh~? Pfffttt AHAHAHAHAHA~~!! Oh this is priceless, you’re still kicking huh? I mean, what attempt is this, number….59? 100? Isn’t this tiring to you buddy~?”

“Silence, jester. I am not tired, not one bit. I have been assigned this duty by the Witches, and I refuse to stop until you Beasts are sealed away…”

You stared at him with the same neutral yet angry expression that you almost always have. He upsets you, just as the other Beasts. And, like him, they will be sealed by your hand sooner or later.

“Really now…? How many times have you said that? And yet the result is still the same! I’ll give you credit though, you’re getting closer each time!! But all that means is that I’m improving myself to make sure you continue to be the failure you are!!”

“Am I the failure, Shadow Milk Cookie? You were meant to be a savior, a hero to all Cookiekind until the end of days, but you failed at your duty. Don’t tell me, are you jealous that I’m favored and know how to follow simple instruction? Does it upset you that I’m succeeding in the role you failed to fulfill?”

“Tch…didja learn to talk all smart while you were in between the states of dying and living? Those Witches can BURN IN THE OVEN, AND YOU’LL JOIN THEM YOU MISERABLE PUPPET!!!”

“….I’m assuming you’re done wasting your breath away now? I’m glad you’ll be the first I seal, your voice annoys me…”

You readied yourself again for the umpteenth time, and stared holes into Shadow Milk Cookie. “You are the miserable one here, jester…” You muttered to yourself, before clashing with the jester once more.

————————————————————————

The cold steps of the Ivory Pagoda are all too familiar for you now. The aroma of the incense, the reflective gold of the tiles, all of it was practically burned in your memory as you approached the Master of the Ivory Pagoda yet again. Of course, you couldn’t meet the Master without seeing the guardian of Ivory Pagoda as well.

“Oh, Master, look who’s back again~! You must really enjoy witnessing the truth that my Master has to show the world! At this point, you’re the most frequent visitor here to the pagoda, maybe you’d want to stay here for the rest of your life~? It’s not like your immortality is doing you any favors being the Witches’s pawn~…”

You ignored the mocking comments of Cloud Haetae Cookie. They’re not what you’re here for anyways, so they can berate you all they want, it won’t take your attention away from your mission. You walked past the haetae and stared up at the Beast, who didn’t even open her eyes to you.

“One day, you will come to see how pointless your mission truly is. Again and again, you challenge my truth and power, and again and again, you fail to understand that you’ll never succeed…”

“That is where your arrogance has mislead you, Mystic Flour Cookie. You insist on yourself so much that you fail to grasp the reality around you. More and more, I grow resistant to your power, and I keep parts of my flavor in spite of being turned to flour. One day, you will come to realize that the madness you speak of will never be heard as you’ll spend your days sealed away as you deserve.”

Mystic Flour Cookie doesn’t bother responding to you. She only waves her hand, uttering the phrase you’ve heard numerous times now: “Return to Flour…”. Your words were true: you were still maintaining your flavor and everything else about you, and only small crumbs were being taken away, albeit incredibly slowly. Then you lounged at her, slashing at her with your blade….and you cut her. Jam leaked out of her thigh from the gash you made. Although your magic and control over the chains and Witch’s fork specialized for sealing the Beasts weren’t strong enough yet, you were making fast progress.

Cloud Haetae Cookie was shocked, but Mystic Flour appeared unfazed as usual. But one thing was abundantly clear, you were improving. Even if you didn’t seal her during this time, you would overcome her powers and seal her away, even if you were crumbled to flour in the process. Mystic Flour will be sealed, just like the other Beasts, and you’ll rise and rise again until your deed is done and all of the Beasts are sealed away.

————————————————————————

Hellish blazing embers and the ruins of forests are the most recognizable sight you know. Whenever you hear the fires crackling, you know that you’re close to Burning Spice Cookie. Burning Spice stares daggers into you just as you stare a hole back.

“You again, eh? How many times are we going to do the same song and dance until you’ve crumbled for good? Those damned Witches must have spent days, perhaps weeks trying to perfect a herald to defeat us, and your failure of an existence is all they have to show for their efforts. It would be funny, if it weren’t so sad and true…”

“I’ll keep coming back as many times as needed until you—“

“Yeah yeah, until us Beasts are sealed away. You’re a broken record at this point, and it’s really beginning to annoy the Hell out of me…. Then again, you do have your uses for being a toy, free for me to play with and break whenever I feel like it. So c’mon, let’s not waste words and entertain me, Chosen fool~…”

You smirked at Burning Spice; at least you two could agree on something, that being words are useless at this point. You steeled yourself and gripped your sword tightly, and Burning Spice did the same with that giant axe in hand. All you need to do is seal away Burning Spice, and even if you crumbled in the process, it will be done.

————————————————————————

The skies were an incredibly dark shade of pink, and you’ve slowly grown to hate it when the skies were like this. Mainly because you knew who it was that was around, and Witches did Eternal Sugar Cookie, wielding the power of Sloth, utterly piss you off.

All Eternal Sugar did was yawn on top of the cloud she rested on, and looked at you haphazardly with her hand resting on her cheek*

*Yaaaaaaawwwwnn* “Ahh, who’re you again? You always come here for ah…some mission from the Witch’s I think? Can’t you bother anyone else with your nonsense, I have a lot of better things to do than waste my precious energy on you agaaaaiinn…”

The tone in Eternal Sugar’s voice and manner is what really bothered you the most. Although it was fitting of the Sloth power she held, she just couldn’t care less about you or whatever inhumane actions she did to others. Granted, you weren’t much for words yourself, the most you talk is when dealing with the annoyance is Shadow Milk Cookie, so at least with Eternal Sugar you can get right to the point without any hesitation.

“At least you know what I’m here for, Beast…I’ll gladly make sure you’ve suffered in the last moments of your recreation…”

“Mhmmm, sure thing. Just hurry up and crumble already so you can bother someone else when you resurrect, please~….

Without waiting anymore, you charged at the lackadaisical Beast. Thankfully, the more you do this the more stronger and better you’re getting. Because the sooner you seal away Eternal Sugar, the better. Not just for the Witch’s and Cookiekind, but for the sake of your own mind.

————————————————————————

The eerie silence of the area you stepped into would be enough to scare any being beyond belief. It was dark, quiet, perfectly becoming the scene any scared children would have when fearing the dark. Only this was no dream, is was the brutal reality of a vicious Beast that you could never seem to get an upper hand against.

Silent Salt Cookie was just standing there, sword in hand as always. Out of all the Beasts, Silent Salt doesn’t do anything else now except wait for you. Silent Salt knows of your ability to keep coming back to life after dying and knew sooner or later you’d be back.

The quietness from you and Silent Salt was loud and easy to understand. You weren’t much for words yourself, no need to start now with a quiet Cookie. You both knew each other well enough, understanding the other’s goal in mind as you both nodded and readied your swords yet again. The area soon became loud with the sounds of clashing swords in a struggle of life and death.

Until your mission is fulfilled, until the Beasts are sealed away and no longer a threat to Cookiekind, then you will be raised from the dead. Retaining your mixture of flavors, knowledge and power, and using all of them against the foul Beasts that defiled their roles as promised saviors. Until the deed is done…

[igotanidea]

The spell: Dean Winchester x reader

„Sam? This better be important ‘cause I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

“I’m using the emergency line, right?”

“Last time Dean used the emergency line it was about lack of pie. I swear he’s older but acts like a complete child sometimes.” Y/N shook her head not that Sam could see that through the phone.

“Yeah.” He agreed “But I would never….”

“Remember the time when you lost a shoe?”

“That was one time Y/N! And it was…. Under different circumstances…..”

“Oh, relax, I’m just teasing. But seriously, go on and tell me what is this about, cause I really am busy.“

“It actually is about Dean…”

“Oh, I had a feeling this day would be intense. What do we deal with? Demon? Jinn? Shapeshifter? Oh, please tell me it’s shapeshifter, those are my favorites.

“A witch, in fact.”

“Fine by me.” Y/N shrugged, unaware that Sam’s words has a second meaning. Only the prolonging silence on the other side made her a bit suspicious “Sam? You’re still there?”

“Yes.”

“So? Where do we meet? At the motel or at the crime scene?”

“Stop talking like a CSI!”

“I am CSI, Sam! Now again, where do we meet?”

“At the motel. But please…..”

She did not let him finish, since Sam was making her impatient by straining information. So she had no idea what was coming for her.

***

“Guys?” Y/n entered the motel room without knocking and two pair of eyes landed on her figure. Sam was his usual self, calm and collected, sitting by the desk, working. But Dean…. Dean was distracted, in the lack of better word. Pacing around like he was suffering from the sudden fit of anxiety. “What the…..?”

“ Should have listened to me….” Sam muttered, while his older brother took one stride towards her and wrapped his arm around her without any word.

“Um… good to see you too, Dean, but what’s with the PDA?”

“Can I just hold you?” he mumbled, begin so out of character

“Yeah… I mean, sure” she frowned, hugging him back. This was unexpected, to say the least. They have been together for a couple of months now, but the older Winchester were mostly keeping his laid back attitude in the relationship. “But…..” she hesitated, but stopped the question. This was actually pretty nice. Having Dean in her embrace like this, being the one he was turning to. It made her heart stutter a bit.

“But what?” he asked pulling away

“You know what, nevermind” she smiled brightly brushing hair from his face “if you need me….”

“I always need you.” he burst without thinking

“ Oh….” She felt her heart skip a bit. That was definitely new and she wasn’t sure whether she should feel the warmth and happiness or rather get worried about his current state. “Um…that’s nice, Dean.” She hugged him again, at the same time peeking over Dean’s arm, mouthing words at Sam asking for explanation. “How about you sit here for a moment, Dean, huh? I just gotta talk to your brother, who surely owns me some explanation.”

“I don’t want to let go of you…..” Dean pouted

“I’m not going anywhere, I swear” she smiled and pushed him onto the chair next to Sam and talking the third left spot. Dean immediately leaned towards her and grabbed her hand, caressing it gently.

“Y/N…..” he turned towards her, begging for attention, even though she was doing nothing more than giving it to him

“Yes, Deanie?”  her eyes focused on her boyfriend without any sign of annoyance.

“Come sit on my lap.”

“What?” now she was blushing

“Come on…” Dean patted his thigh but seeing her becoming reluctant, just reached for her, grabbed her waist and put her where he needed her, hugging her to his chest from behind.

“Um…’ she muttered, distracted by his hands. He was doing nothing, just holding her and she was already melting. This was dangerous.

“do you want me to leave you two alone?” Sam laughed, but once he met with Y/n’s murderous gaze covered it by coughing

“Talk!” she shout at him “What happened?”

“You remember when I mentioned the witch?” Sam started

“Yes, of course. Now please, cut to the chase! Not that I’m complaining, but I’d rather have the real Dean back. I want my bickering, teasing and sensitive on the inside boy.” Said boy were currently planting kisses on her neck. “Oh, god, I just can’t ….” She muttered, standing up from Dean’s lap immediately meeting with his sad eyes and mouth curved down. “I’ll be right back to you, sweetie, all right?” she smiled caressing his cheek and facepalming herself on the inside for calling him like that. What the heck was going on. Was it like the “it’s Tuesday again” situation? Did she wake up in alternative reality “Just stay here for a moment. And you.” she turned to Sam “you’re coming with me.”

***

“The charm?” fifteen minutes later Y/N and Sam were sitting in the booth in a crappy diner. The girl being herself ordered herself some pancakes, leaving the younger Winchester to do the talking “Guess I should have connected the dots… what? why are you looking at me like that?” she swallowed a particularly big piece of her dish and frowned

“You and Dean are so similar when it comes to your favorite food.” Sam shook his head and smiled lightly

“I’m hungry! I’ve been on the field for hours and didn’t have breakfast so cut me some slack! Now back to the witch. What do we do to break the spell? Burn her? Capture her? Slave her?”

“We are not doing anything. I’ve already got her location and ….”

“Sam…” Y/N sighed, putting her fork down and looking him straight into the eyes “you know the rules. You know I can’t let you go alone.”

“I’m not asking.”

“I’m not answering .”

“You either leave me alone or Dean. Given his current love-sick puppy state I think it’s pretty clear who need the supervision.”

“Sam…..” her tone became a bit warning

“Come on, Y/N, you know I’m right. It’s an open and close case. No trouble I promise.”

“You always say that….” She muttered “Fine. You really left me no other options, did you?”

“Look on the bright side.” Sam flashed a smile “you get to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. Maybe even get a little action….”

“Shut up Winchester!”

***

“I’m back Dea…. Woah!” she barely get the chance to step through the door when Dean swept her off her feet and spun In the air. “Put me down! Put me down!”

“Oh I may put you down, but I’m not letting you get away, again.”

“Oh please…” she scoffed, but not honestly not being opposed to his actions and switching rather towards teasing him about it “I was gone for like fifteen minutes, surely you did not miss me that….”

She was cut off by his lips on hers. Damn, he was such  a good kisser. And because of that spell also needy and maybe a bit desperate. Holy shit… Sam was right, it has been a while since….

“How’s that for not missing?” he asked cupping her cheek and brushing thumb over it. Oh, how she wanted to give in, let him pull her closer… Sad thing, she could not. It was like she told Sam in that diner- she was not opposed to clingy Dean, searching  for affection, but this was not him. She needed the assurance that all of his actions were a conscious choice not the side effect of some witchcraft.

“How about we slow down a bit, huh?” she pulled away, or rather tried to pull away, since his large hands stopped her from doing so.

“But I need you…” he whined

“I know honey, but ….”

“What? Why are you always turning away from me?”

“I’m not turning away, love.”

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too, Dean and that is why I think you need some rest. Don’t you wanna lay down for just a bit?”

“As long as you stay with me.”

“I will. I promise. Now come on.” She grabbed his hand and lead him towards the motel bed. It was far from comfortable, but both Winchesters and Y/N were already used to that. The girl slowly pushed Dean onto the cushions and reached for the blanket to cover him, but he was way  faster. When she moved towards the edge of the bed he grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush onto his chest, sneaking one hand under her shirt, tracing patterns on her bare skin. It was nice. It was really really nice, but she could smell his neediness with every inhale and exhale he was taking. So she moved a bit, just to look into his glistening eyes.

“What do you need, Dean? Tell me.”

“I just want to feel you next to me.”

“I think we got that covered “ she grinned “you practically got me caged here.”

“I’m sorry” he looked down, but she grabbed his chin and met his eyes again

“Stop it, Dean Winchester. You hear me, stop it. If I wanted out, you would never be able to stop me, but I chose to be here. So go on. Talk.”

“Can you just hold me?”

“Sure my pretty boy. Come here.” She laid on her back motioning for him to snuggle into her arms and put his head on her belly, arms locked around her waist. “It’s gonna be all right” she cooed running her fingers through his hair “We’re gonna get you out of this mess. You are not alone, baby.”

***

Two hours later, she found out she fell asleep. The sun was slowly setting over the horizon and instinctively she turned onto the other side, hand searching for Dean but he was not there and her heart fluttered.

“Dean?” she mumbled getting up, rubbing her eyes and walking outside. He was standing by the railing, eyes fixed on the space “Hi….” She whispered slowly approaching him and wrapping arms around his waist, pulling herself closer.

“Hi baby.” He answered closing his eyes.

“Are you… back?”

“Guess Sam did some good work. And by himself. At this point I feel expendable. You two clearly can handle all this shit by yourself. “

“You idiot.” She smacked the back of his head in the lightest hit there ever was “Expendable. You are truly unbelievable. How much do you remember?” her voice trembled a bit.

“All of it.”

“Oh.” She gasped but then smiled “so you do remember the affectionate attitude?”

“Yes.”

“And how needy and whiny you were?”

“Yes.”

“And?” she tilted head trying to get any reaction out of him which clearly was going to be a little challenge. “Was it …. Was It just the spell.”

“No.”

“God, don’t piss me off, Dean.”

“It was all real, all right? Whatever charm this was it made me act the way I felt. Cause I do need you. And I should have told you that sooner.” He turned towards her and reached for her hand “you are important to me. Damn, Y/n, you know I love you, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Dean.” She assured “you speak through your actions. And frankly ,the way you behaved was not about me. It was all about you.”

“How so?”

“You needed love. Affection. Some softness. Maybe it was all because of the fact you suppress all those needs? Cause you are reluctant to admit you have them? Hm?”

“I;m not even going to answer that.” He mumbled

“Dean, come on. We’re all humans… and yes, I believe that even despite you being a vessel for an angel, you are still human. It’s normal to need someone to hold you and love you. And you got me, so promise me, you won’t hide from me.”

“You want me to be open and honest?” he smirked

“Is that too much to ask for?”

“Yeah. Way, way too much. But I’ll try.”

“I can work with that.”

“Good. Now shut up and kiss me.”  

“I thought the effects of the spell were over….” She tapped her chin in reverie

“Guess I do have to take action by myself” Dean mumbled leaning forward and capturing her lips in sweet, gentle, delicate kiss. It was not needy, not anymore. It was a promise from him to try and do better in a relationship. “Shall we take that inside?”

“You had to kill the moment” she rolled her eyes at him “Welcome back, you prick.”

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 26th:  Corroded Coffin | I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P. | Hopeful a/n: descriptions of anxiety & grounding, rockstar!eddie, supportive!uncle wayne, established steddie. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Corroded Coffin gets its first gig outside of Gareth’s garage on a random Tuesday in October 1985. 

It’s a small place, a true hole in the wall, the exact kind of place Eddie Munson imagines James Hetfield might’ve seen back in Metallica’s earliest days. There are maybe five people in the crowd outside of the bartender and servers, but those are five more people than have ever heard them play before. 

Jeff, Freak, and Gareth are goofing around backstage, tuning instruments, pushing and shoving playfully, the excitement palpable. Eddie wants to join in but his heart and his stomach seem to have swapped places. Nauseous, shaky, and terrified, he can’t bring himself to shake it off with his friends and finds himself sitting in the corner, back to the wall. 

An apt metaphor, really. 

He feels caged, stuck, panicked– a lion trapped in too small of a space if the lion was also secretly afraid of its one and only concrete talent being judged as not good enough by strangers. 

“Alright, Ed, take a breath with me, okay?” Wayne appears out of nowhere, grunting as he sits on the grody floor next to Eddie. 

A familiar, calloused hand gently pulls Eddie’s fingers out of his hair, a position he doesn’t realize he’s in until Wayne pulls him out of it. He turns to face his Uncle and breathes with him the same way he had as an anxious little kid before the talent show, as the new kid in school, as the now fledgling adult who still needs comfort, reputation and appearance be damned. 

Eddie closes his eyes and lets Wayne squeeze his hand to cute inhalation and exhalation. One day, he’ll think to ask him where the fuck he got that from, but not today. Today, he needs to calm down enough to perform with his friends. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

“Feelin’ better?” Wayne asks, patting Eddie’s knee with his free hand. 

Eddie nods and lets his eyes flutter open. It feels like waking up as he adjusts back to the noise and light he’d managed to tune out. “I think so, yeah. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so scared as shit but yeah. Not okay.” 

Wayne scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s your first show, Ed. ‘S alright to be a little keyed up. You’re gonna be fine though, just go out there and have fun with it.” 

“You’ll stay for the show?” Eddie asks, a little more hopeful. Seeing Wayne in the audience during the talent show all those years ago set his nerves at ease. Seeing Wayne in the audience at The Hideout might do the same. 

“Nah, figured I’d just stop by to talk you off the ledge and head on home. Of course I’m stayin’, what kinda Uncle do you think I am?” 

Eddie and Corroded Coffin play their first gig to a crowd of about five drunks and one Uncle Wayne. It’s not perfect– Eddie trips over a microphone wire at least once and they each miss a cue here and there– but they finish to applause. The loudest of which comes from Uncle Wayne. 

—

Over the years, Corroded Coffin ebbs and flows. When Eddie nearly dies, the band does too for a bit but, like Eddie, reanimates after some left dormant. The members stay the same, the name stays the same, the sound stays the same. What changes is the audience. 

Apparently, the metal community is very interested in Eddie’s Lazarus-adjacent story coupled with wrongful accusations and a suburban witch hunt. Interested enough for the band to start getting noticed. The Hideout turns into The Vogue, and then the Old National Centre, and then the TCU Amphitheater. At each one, Eddie feels the same nerves he had at their first gig, and maybe even a bit more so now with his Upside Down injuries always at the back of his mind. 

What if I pull something?

What if my leg gives out?

What if– 

“Hey,” Steve whispers, leaning against the wall next to Eddie. “It’s gonna be okay, you know that, right?” 

Eddie nods and chews on the piece of hair he’s pulled in front of his face. 

He doesn’t know that, actually, but it’s not something he wants to rehash right now. Besides, Steve more than anyone can understand his running monologue more than most. He’d been there, been the one to carry him out, and since they started dating, has been the one to lull him back to sleep when the memories jar him awake. 

But Wayne’s not here yet, probably stuck in traffic after leaving the factory early for the show, and Eddie doesn’t know how to prepare for a show without his guided breathing. 

Every rockstar has a ritual, and that’s his. 

“I know I’m no Wayne but, wanna try breathing with me?” Steve offers with a sheepish smile. 

He nods again, still silent, and breathes. This time, softer hands holding his and cueing his inhalations and exhalations. It’s not the same, but it’s something. Enough to calm his racing heart to the point of words and with a shout from Jeff and a kiss from Steve, he takes the biggest stage he’s played yet. 

Halfway through their set, Eddie sees movement in the corner of his eye and when he dares a glance, he sees Uncle Wayne standing next to Steve in his dusty flannel with a beaming smile. 

The nerves disappear. 

[emmageef]

August 31, 2024 ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

Diary Entry #3

A few nights ago I decided I wanted to shift my awareness to the vampire diaries. (Quite the spur of the moment decision for me)

In all the time I’ve know about shifting majority of my “attempts” have been towards more personal realities that don’t have a fictional universe in this reality. Which was quite weird for me because I never really saw another shifters with the same goals as I did. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, if I changed my mind right now to go back to what I wanted a couple days ago so be it. It is my desire.)

I think I ultimately feel giddy and excited about my change of mind, it has brought life and feeling into a journey that unfortunately became flat and dull. Honestly it became tiring “trying” to go someplace and never ending up there. Thinking of the same things over and over again. Occasionally yes, I would download or make a script for something else but I never actually decided to shift to any them, for the most part those scripts are also unfinished. These moments were all short lived and I ended up in the same position I started in.

And while I do feel different about this choice, if I changed my mind I do know and accept that it will be different and I appreciate what the last couple of days have brought me. I think ultimately I need to ask my self what I want in this moment, a hard question to answer given all the things I want to do but, I think no matter where I end up, I want a new adventure of my choosing. I’m just not the same person I was three years ago, I want to try new things and I think that’s been a little strange for me to accept that I don’t really feel the same way I used too. All the work I put in led me down a path that I didn’t really intend. But now as of the last couple of days, it doesn’t upset me at all really. I know I’m meant for bigger and better things. If I want to experience those things still that I did when I was 17, they will always be there for me. :) I have also gained new knowledge and perspective on the LOA and that has brought me some peace as well. And honestly I’m just having a lot of fun and I haven’t felt this way on my journey for a while!

But I do think there was a voice in the back of my head that wants more structure and preparation for this specific choice of a reality, at the end of the day it is reality with vampires, werewolves, witches, etc… I don’t want to put myself in a situation I’m not comfortable or ready for. So having a better grasp on who I am and what’s to come and the changes I want compared to the fictional show I think will push me forward. Even though a physical script or script of any sort is not necessarily, I think some foundation is needed for me rn.

I’ll probably write another entry soon, maybe about the changes I’m making from the original show. If any vampire diaries shifter find this pls talk to me I don’t have anyone to talk to about it!

[randomasstalkingdeer]

UM JUST A DISCLAIMER BEFORE THIS INITIAL INTRO POST-we are currently very hyper fixated on the show Only Murders In The Building and just started season three so no spoilers but this show is consuming my life right now so it will probably also consume this blog thank you

PLEASE TALK TO US ABOUT OMITB

Heyyyyyy!! Welcome to our blog. You can call us Rat or Atlas collectively. I am the host, Rat, and our system is called the Atlas system or Atlas' system. We have three definitive alters other than me, the host, and his name is Lennon (he uses he/they it prns) (he's not fronting rn so I'm just going to leave a space below for him to write his intro). We also have 2 littles called Eva and Riko who usually if not always front together.

Lennon's intro:

Eva and Rikos Intro:

We are bodily and collectively minors, so no funny business. 

We go by any/all pronouns collectively, but please don't use she/her too often, or when Lennon is fronting.

We are collectively agender, genderqueer, asexual and aromantic, and we have a few alters that are boyflux and/or non-binary, and I think we might have one girl but she's little and has yet to front

here is the post about our plurality

we are collectively therians, fictionkin, objectkin, and otherkin. 

Our ‘types:

A deer/wolf hybrid called Kinny (he/they) who has a wolf body, tail, ears and front or back paws (not sure which ones, I think they change) and deer antlers, head shape, and front/back hooves and can shapeshift into a humanoid creature with antlers and a wolf tail and elf-ish ears. He also has the ability to fly and the ability to change his size at will. 

A cat whose name I do not know, but it is either Stella, Mariella, Maribel/Maribelle or Nora (she/her). She is a silky black cat and can shapeshift into a witch with no animalistic qualities and she has the ability to change her age at will. 

dollkin

puppetkin

ratkin

QUESTIONING:

foxkin/a fox theriotype

I am also an artist and will occasionally be posting artwork on here. Mostly, though, this blog will be for our experiences as a closeted therian & agender system. Also random therian and gay stuff. And poems. Occasionally. And random stuff we think of. 

We'll probably be posting pretty often, and we'll let y’all know if that changes. 

JSYK:

We do swear occasionally but otherwise we're completely safe for minors which is good because I am a minor

We don’t respond to hate unless it’s especially funny

And our moots are awesome, love you guys❤️❤️🦌🐺🐈‍⬛

DNI: 

General assholes

any explicitly NSFW blogs- a few 18+ things are okay but DNI if your blog is completely NSFW 

ANY QUEERPHOBES(e.g. homophobes, transphobes, biphobes, aphobes-that’s aro and/or ace phobes) WILL BE BLOCKED

ANY ANTI-THERIANS/ANTI-ALTERHUMANS WILL BE BLOCKED

Zo0ph!les are not tolerated or accepted. Please go see a doctor. 

P3doph!les are not tolerated or accepted. Please go see a doctor. 

However, recovering/recovered zo0s are completely welcome. 

FURRIES≠THERIANS

THERIANS≠ZO0S

FURRIES≠ZO0s

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. 

We are very likely autistic but have not been diagnosed because we do not have a therapist even though we NEED ONE.

we, as a system, do not support the use of lesbian within m-spec communities but there’s no hate here, and you are still welcome have done our research on lesboys and the use of lesbian in m-spec communities, and apologize for our ignorance. We did not do any research at the time of writing this post and henceforth just did not understand the concept. We hope you feel welcome here.

we have a couple very strong opinions that we will not be debating anyone about. Opinions are just that. You can have your own and we can have ours. Just don’t try to convince us that that you are right. we will not do that, we will just let you know that this is what we believe. Here’s an example:

Omnisexuals do not equal pansexuals with preferences. Having no preference and not caring the gender of the person you are attracted to are two different things. Pansexuals can have preferences. For example, if you’re pansexual and you have a preference for women, and you see someone who you’re attracted to, and you talk to them and they say “oh yeah, I’m not actually a woman, I’m non binary”, you wouldn’t care, you’d still be attracted to them. Whereas if you were omnisexual and they told you they weren’t actually a woman, you might not be attracted to them anymore. This comes from a person who used to identify as panromantic with a preference for women. I have since realized I was aromantic, but I still have these opinions. DNI if you are going to try and debate me about this. 

userboxes by @kthecritter

here is a link to the post we made about opening requests for therian line art: https://www.tumblr.com/feethetalkingdeer/757851513949405184/attention-please?source=share

I think that’s it!!!

If you made it here, take this: 🏳️‍🌈 pride flag for you ❤️❤️

Oky byee! We hope to see you again soon!

oh and here’s my pronouns.cc if you’d like it:

(I've removed this link temporarily cause its under construction) (I'm making changes to the names and stuff that's on there)

[lopsicle]

Did you know Viney and Emira are the best side characters in The Owl House?

Healing Tickles

TickleTober Day 4: Weak spot

Fandom: The Owl House

Pairing: Emira X Viney (Romantic)

Summary: Emira gets injured while trying to ride Puddles, and discovers some of the side effects of healing magic once Viney uses it on her.

Warnings: Injury, Feet Tickles

——-

Even though the magic in the Boiling Isles was exciting and enchanting to use, their was always a subtle danger that laid with it. A spell not being aimed properly, wrong ingredients in a potion that would cause you to turn into a pile of frogs or some other twisted joke that magic liked to play on people. The creatures were also no exception, whether it was the largest Slitherbeast or the tiniest fairy, the weakest demon to the most powerful Titan, everything had a way of hurting you.

Though in our case, it wasn’t intentional. It was more of an accident, practically brought on by Emira tempting fate. She had gone on a ride on her girlfriend’s griffin, Puddles, to spend more time with her and since flying was a lot less lonely with Viney. But after a couple times of riding on the back of a beast, you tend to grow more confident in your abilities to not get flung off it at every sharp turn; despite Emira practically clinging onto Puddles the first time she ever rode on her.

In contrast, the green haired witch was now standing up on Puddles back, her hands rested near her waistline in an oddly relaxed way for someone souring swiftly through the air. Viney didn’t look so impressed with her, sticking to sitting down just under Puddles’ neck while flying, not wanting to get too cocky.

‘You ever heard the saying pride comes before the fall?’ Viney asked her, getting a rather blissfully ignorant ‘Nope!’ in response. She just sighed, gently gripping onto Puddles’ feathers.

‘You should sit down, really, I don’t wanna have to scrape you up off the ground,’ Viney said, dead serious as her eyes narrowed slightly, not taking her eyes off the sky in front of her since she was still steering Puddles. Emira just shrugged her off, before saying,

‘You don’t have to worry so much, I’ll be fi-ah!’ As the girl attempted to take a small step back on Puddles, she ended up losing her footing and and sliding right off the back of the griffin, leading all three of them to fly into a mad panic. They weren’t massively high up on the air, not enough to break a bone or seriously hurt yourself from the fall but just enough to make it hurt and bruise. Because of this, by the time Viney had tilted Puddles around to try and catch Emira, the girl had already landed on the floor, surprisingly managing to stay upright.

‘Emira!’ Viney cried, souring down and landing her pet right next to her, hopping off and running over to her. ‘Are you alright?!’ She asked, looking over the girl to see if she had any marks or cuts, but she seemed to be injure free. Key word, seemed. Emira still just smiled at her, not wanting Viney to worry as she responded,

‘Oh yeah, I’m fine, it was only a little fall!’

Viney looked at her with a slightly unimpressed look before crossing her arms over her chest, not taking her stern yet worried eyes off the girl for a second. ‘Alright then, could you walk over here, please?’

Viney asked her, causing Emira’s lips to curl in worry for just a second before she went back to smiling,

‘Yeah, o-of course I can, I really am fine!’

Though, right as she finished taking her first step, the girl already winced in pain but tried to keep it hidden. Emira looked up to see Viney sighing and stopped right in her tracks, like a child being caught redoing something they’re not allowed.

‘I’m, uh, sorry about standing on Puddles,’ she said, staring at the floor as her girlfriend walked over to her, before gently scooping up Emira in her arms.

‘It’s fine, Emi, just don’t do that, I don’t want you getting hurt, okay?’ The healing track member smiled softly down at her girlfriend, booping her nose to alleviate the tension. ‘Now, let’s get you fixed up, can you tell me where it hurts?’ She asked Emira, sitting her down against Puddles’ side, who had began resting on the grass. Emira blushed a little, holding her arms to her sides as she muttered,

‘My feet,’ her body seemed to tense up a little as she said that, not going unnoticed but Viney decided not to comment on it for now. The brunette just nodded, carefully taking off her girlfriend’s boots. Luckily they’d landed just on the outskirts of the forest, meaning Emira wasn’t too embarrassed about being without her shoes in public.

‘Okay, just try and sit still for me, healing magic can sting a little,’ Viney told her, though Emira barely seemed to be paying attention. Ever since Viney’s focus had been in her feet, the girl seemed a little more tense, clenching her palms into her fists, locking her eyes on her girlfriend’s fingers and godwhydidherfingerslooksoteasytoher?!

Before she could bounce away, a pleasant blue glow had enveloped Viney’s hand with a gentle whoosh sound. She then pointed her hand an Emira’s socked feet, nearly making the girl squeal from the sheer anticipation building up in her. It wasn’t until Emira’s soles had the same soft blue glow on them did the girl finally erupt in goggles and start twisting about.

‘Oh, I get it now, your ticklish, that’s why you’ve been so jittery! Super ticklish by the looks of things, or are your feet just a little weak spot of yours?’

Viney smirked over at her girlfriend, her playful personality immediately resurfacing once she realised she had found one of Emira’s adorable weaknesses. That and maybe being flustered and tickled would distract her from any of her lingering pain, that was definitely the main reason she was doing this.

‘I-ihaahaahahaha’m nahahahahaha-eeeep-ahahaht thahahahat ti-tihihihcklish..!’ Emira squealed though her laughter quickly trailed off as Viney finished her healing spell, leaving her feet good as new. Emira just looked over at her girlfriend, flustered and trying to timidly pull her feet back while thanking Viney.

But, her ankles were quickly snatched up by Viney, dragging the girl a little closer as she did so. The brunette got her arm wrapped around the green haired girl’s ankles, making all those little kicks and squirming useless.

‘Hey! I-I thought you were done healing me, what are you doing?!’ Emira asked, curling her toes as a smile of anticipation crawled its way onto her face, no matter how much she tried to remove it.

‘Well, Smiles, you have been difficult today, standing on Puddles, getting all jittery when I was trying to heal you, and you just leave one of your most ticklish spots literally on my lap?! Of course I’m gonna tickle the Hell out of you after that!’

Emira just blushed more and more as Viney spoke, opening her mouth to try and pout or argue back, but she seemed even too flustered to get her words out properly. It wouldn’t have mattered much anyway, Viney’s nails were already scratching and skittering all over Emira’s sock clad soles and arches, her fingers making sure to dig right in and slide over every part of her newly discovered sweet spot.

‘E-eeek!! V-vihihhiHIHIHneehehEHEHEHEY!!’

Emira clutched the sides of her face with her hands, with an expression that wasn’t quite discernible between horror and enjoyment. The girl bounced around like a mad witch, flinging her face from side to side while her legs tended up and twitched about, not sitting still for a minutes.

‘Oh, we’ve got ourselves a squirmer here, don’t we? Your really are suuuper ticklish, Emi, you should be lucky we’re still technically in public otherwise these socks would be coming clean off!’

‘P-PLEAHAHAAHAHAHSE!!’

‘Please what? Please tickle you more? Finish your sentences, Emi!’

She playfully threatened her, though Emira’s face was going entirely red. It wasn’t like Emira was new to being tickled or teased, but there was a certain level of flustering to it when it was her girlfriend teasing her. It felt warm and safe rather then embarrassing, like she was actually enjoying tickling Emira.

Viney’s nails soon began to claw and scrape at Emira‘a socked heels, making the witch begin to go hysterical from all the tickling she’d received. Tears even began to prick in her eyes, which Viney almost immediately noticed.

‘Alright, I think you’ve had enough tickles for one day, cutie!’ Viney smiled teasingly at her, causing the already flustered girl to absolutely crumble and curl up in on herself. Viney just chuckled lightly as she carefully put Emira’s boots back onto her.

‘Now, are you ever going to ride recklessly on Puddles again?’

Emira looked up, still blushing up a storm before shaking her head.

‘Great, because I will not hesitate to go for that sweet spot of yours if you step even a toe out of line while on that griffin!’ Viney said, her tone serious in a jokey way, but Emira could tell that she meant it.

And by Titan she was looking forward to it.

[hippiegoth97]

Diary of A Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, alcohol use, groping, fingering, oral sex, age gap, grinding, mutual masturbation, mentions of suicide, mentions of death, grief/trauma, crying, LGBTQ+ references

Word Count: 13.6k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #2: Joyce Byers

October 31st, 1983

Dear diary,

Tonight is Halloween. I was stuck working in the store all by myself, while all the children of Hawkins ran wild around town asking every shop owner for candy. I'd been looking forward to going to Haley Durkis' party, a little booze and meaningless sex would've really hit the spot. But alas, Mr. Harris had other plans for me. It wasn't all bad, though. I got to play spooky music in the shop, and see all the adorable costumes while handing out treats. Ghosts, witches, little supermen and wonder women, the kids really had some great choices this year.

The highlight of the evening, though, was when Joyce Byers came by with her son Will. He was dressed up as a wizard, with a cloak and pointy hat and everything. I've seen them around a lot, Will and his friends love to come in the shop and browse around. They'repolite, and sweet, and try their best to buy something, even if they don't have much money. Joyce works across the street at Melvald's, so I see her quite a lot as well. She's such a beautiful woman, I've always admired her. Raising two sons all on her own, while single-handedly keeping Melvald's from falling to pieces. She is a force to be reckoned with, despite her welcoming nature.

Me and Joyce talk pretty often, I go over there to get a new romance novel every once in a while, as well as necessities I need at home. She asks me lots of questions, mainly about my adjustment to life after high school. And she seems to genuinely care about what I have to say. I can talk to her about anything, and she's never judgemental. Not only that, she gives the best hugs when I really need them. Her grip is firm, and nurturing. I can't help but melt into her when she holds me like that, while catching a whiff of her cigarettes and fruity shampoo.

So many times, I've wanted to pull back a little within her embrace and kiss her. But Ican't exactly do that. Not out in the open in a town like Hawkins. Plus, I'm not even sure she'd be okay with it. There's no real way to tell if she's interested in women, or me, without putting myself out on a limb. One can dream, I suppose. Who knows, maybe an opportunity will come up for me to ask her about it. Even if she isn't interested, I have a feeling she wouldn't be weird about it. She'd probably let me down easy, while also saying she's very flattered.

November 2nd, 1983

Dear diary,

I talked to Joycetoday. She came around the shop on her lunch break to browse, she's very partial to Barbara Streisand. She told me that Will is having trouble at school, and that him and his friends are being picked on a lot. Poor kids, they're far too sweet and sensitive for their own good. It's like bullies have some weird radar that points out optimal targets. I was never very popular in school myself. I mean, I did alright, and had a couple of friends. But most of the time, I was on my own. Shit, kids are fuckin' mean, and that's an understatement. But those boys have each other, and I can tell their bond is strong enough to withstand anything.

In other news, I've finally got my own car. When I moved out, Mom wouldn't let me drive hers around anymore. But luckily my apartment is downtown anyway, a couple blocks from work. I saved up whatI could and got a little junker from Carl's Used Car Lot. She's nothing special, and a bit rusty. But she gets me where I need to go, and Idon't have much need for anything else. It's a little sad to not need rides from Joyce anymore, but Ican't rely on her to cart me around everywhere. I am an independent woman, after all.

November 6th, 1983

Dear diary,

Something strange happened tonight. I had just locked up at Waxed Out for the night, and I drove home to my apartment. The streets were quiet, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I got home, put a TV dinner into the microwave, and changed into my pajamas to relax. But before my meal could be fully cooked, the lights started flickering, and there was a low humming sound in the entire place. I thought it was really weird, so I peeked out of the curtains at my window. Every house, building, street lamp, and car was blinking on and off, just like everything in my apartment. This went on for a good thirty seconds, before the power went out entirely.

The police have been patrolling around all night since the incident, reassuring everyone that the issue will be investigated and resolved through the speakers on their cruisers. I still don't have power, and had to resort to crackers for dinner. I don't want to let all the cold out of the fridge, and that TV dinner was still frozen solid. I'mwriting this now using an old flashlight I found in my closet. It's not working so well, the beam is very dim, and keeps threatening to go out altogether. But I definitely don't have any spare batteries for it. All I can do is wait for daylight to come, and hope that the power will be restored.

November 7th, 1983

Dear diary,

Will Byers has gone missing. I know, those words don't seem right, do they? People don't go missing in shitty little towns like Hawkins. There's no kidnappings, no murders, no robberies at gunpoint, no rape. Not here. Not until now, I suppose. Joyce has been a mess today, running all over town to ask anyone if they've seen him. She filed a report with Chief Hopper this morning, and then came right over to talk to me...

"Morning, Joyce! How are you?" You greet her as she walks into the shop, assuming this is another typical interaction between the two of you. But you notice her rapid pace, and the worried look on her beautiful face. Something is very wrong.

"I'm a bit worried, if I'm honest. I don't know where Will is. He wasn't at home this morning, and Mike's parents say he didn't spend the night after their game." Joyce says, her voice trembling. "Have you seen him at all?" She asks desperately, hoping just one person can tell her where her little boy is.

"I'm sorry, Joyce. I haven't. But I'll keep an eye out, alright? I'm sure he'll turn up soon, he's not the kind of kid to get himself into trouble." You do your best to reassure her, placing your hand over hers on the countertop. "And if you need anything, you know where I am. Okay?"

"Of course. Thank you, Y/N." She nods, gazing down at your hand touching hers for a moment. It's like her mind goes somewhere else, if only for a second. She snaps out of it, and looks up to give you a forced smile. "I should get going, I've got a lot of people to talk to today. And please, call me if you find out anything." She pleads, held-back tears staining her words.

"I will, Joyce. Good luck." You reply, and she heads out the door without another word. She steps outside, turning around frantically to figure out where to go next. She eventually turns left, towards the hardware store. "Poor woman." You say aloud, though no one is around to hear it. You hope Will is found, he's such a sweet boy. You can't possibly think of how he'd end up missing, or who would potentially hurt him. It doesn't make sense, bad things don't happen here. They aren't supposed to.

...I spent the rest of my shift thinking about Joyce. How scared she looked, how her voice was shaking. Shit, I just hope Will is alright. Maybe he skipped school with his friends, or just got a little lost in the woods. But neither of those things sound like him at all. He's not the type to ditch, or not know his way around. Will and his little group of friends are very smart, and extremely well-behaved. Ugh, none of it makes a lick of sense, diary. If something did happen to him, it would certainly be a town first. Look, I'm not saying any child should be a victim, but of all the children in this town, why him? Will is so sweet, and kind, the one least deserving of such an awful fate.

When it was time to close up shop, Ididn't spend a second longer on the street than I needed to. I gathered my things, locked the door the fastest I ever have in my entire life, and practically ran the couple of blocks home. My damn car got fried last night, so I had to hoof it. I almost dropped my keys trying to get into my apartment once I finally got there.. I know my fear was probably highly irrational. But for the first time in my life, Ididn't feel safe in my own neighborhood.

I felt this sinking sensation of dread in my stomach as I trudged through the night. Every little sound spooked me, and I was on high alert to make sure no one was following me. The darkness was suddenly full of things waiting to jump out at me, any dim street lamp offering slim slivers of refuge in between the thick blankets of pitch black. I can't explain it, but once nightfall hit, Hawkins became threatening to my senses. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's been troubled with these unfamiliar emotions. Fear, paranoia, primal survival instincts kicking in for the very first time in every last citizen of this shithole town.

To my knowledge, there's still no sign of Will. There's a search party combing the woods tonight, but Ican't bring myself to join them. I'm far too afraid. If someone took that child, they could very well be out there. Either hiding, or joining the search to cover their ass. But beyond that, I'm afraid of finding sweet little Will out there. I don't want to think it, I really don't. But what if they find his body out there? Mangled by an animal, or some maniac? Or drowned in the quarry, floating on the surface like a piece of driftwood?

I can barely stomach it, much less my dinner. Thankfully, the power has been restored at least. Although, the oncoming storm tonight could easily knock it out again. If these lights go out on me, I just know I'll scream. I can't be here all alone in the dark, with a storm roaring just outside the window. Not when someone could be out there, in the darkness, hunting for their next victim. Shit, maybe Iwatch too many movies.

November 8th, 1983

Dear diary,

Last night is a total blur. I was force feeding myself some crackers again, trying my hardest not to think of murderers and corpses in the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep, much as I tried, I'd even started drinking. I had some silly rented video on, something light to keep me sane. The rain was pouring down onto all of Hawkins, with clashing thunder and lightning whirling around in the air. I'd curled myself up in a blanket on the couch, hoping the soft fabric would protect me from anything lurking out there.

Color me surprised when I heard frantic knocking on my door. I practically jumped off the couch in fright, holding back a scream to spare the neighbors who were no doubt struggling to sleep themselves. I reluctantly got off the couch, blanket still bundled around me. I crept over to the door, looking through thepeephole. And who did I see standing outside my door in the pouring rain? Joyce Byers, soaked to the bone and shivering...

"Joyce?" You murmur to yourself in confusion. What is she doing here so late? You quickly open the door to let her inside. "Joyce, what are you doing here? Did something happen? Did you find Will?" You ask as she shuffles into your home. You close the door and lock it tight. She takes off her thick leather coat, draping it over your armchair. She crosses her arms over herself, trying to warm up.

"No, they haven't found him yet. But, I—" She starts to speak, fumbling her words. She gestures helplessly, trying to find her train of thought. But it doesn't come, and she bursts into tears.

"Hey, hey. Come here, sit down." You go to her, leading her to the couch as she cries. She's shaking like a leaf, and cold to the touch. "Shit, you must be freezing. I'll make you some tea, okay? And then you can tell me what happened." You say kindly, and she nods. You take your blanket off yourself, and put it around her shoulders. She holds it tight to her body, looking into the distance without really acknowledging you. You go to your little kitchen, and fill up your kettle with water at the sink. You put it on the stove, and take out two mugs and some chamomile tea. You open up the bags, placing one in each cup. You also put in some honey, and a splash of whiskey. You could certainly use it, and it appears Joyce could, too. Once the water is ready, you fill up the mugs and give them a good stir. You bring them both over very carefully, setting them on the table. "Here we go. They'll have to steep a minute."

"Thank you." She says meekly, tears rolling down her wet cheeks.

"Do you want to borrow some clothes? I can toss yours in the dryer for a bit." You offer, but she shakes her head.

"No, I'll be alright. I won't be here long. I just— needed to get out of that house. I walked right out the front door, and ended up here." Joyce sounds so afraid, far more so than she was this morning. It seems like there's something more that's happened since she last spoke to you.

"I can understand that. Sitting by the phone and waiting for the cops to call can't be very fun." You reply, and your words only upset her more. She starts crying again, quickly becoming hysterical. "Oh, my god. Joyce, I'm sorry." You move to sit with her on your sofa as opposed to the armchair. You'd wanted to give her space, but you're not sure that's what she needs now. You put an arm around her, watching helplessly as her head goes into her hands. "Can you tell me what happened?" You ask, though you don't want to push.

"You'll think I'm crazy." She whimpers, the words muffled against her palms as she shakes her head.

"Joyce, you're not crazy. You are one of the sanest people I know. You can tell me, whatever it is." You reassure her to the best of your ability.

She sighs, removing her hands after running them over her face to wipe the tears away. She turns her head to look at you, such a beautifully pained expression splayed across her features. "You promise you won't tell me I'm nuts?" She asks, letting out a small laugh. Not at the words, but at the idea of trying to convince another person that what she experienced tonight wasn't all in her head.

"I promise." You nod seriously. She takes a moment to gather herself, reaching for her tea that appears to be steeped enough now. She doesn't drink from it yet, but holds it in her icy hands to warm them up.

"Okay. I was at home with Jonathan tonight. We were waiting for Hop to call with any updates, and the phone rang." She starts, bringing the mug to her lips now. She takes a big sip, almost spitting it out at the discovery of the booze in it. "Jesus, is there whiskey in this!?" She forces herself to swallow as to not make a mess on your carpet.

"Yeah, I figured you could use it." You explain, and she nods. Joyce takes another large drink, and continues.

"You're damn right about that. Anyway, the phone rings, and I pick it up. I couldn't make out much, but I could hear—" She pauses again, her breath catching as another wave of tears threatens to spill out.

"Joyce, it's alright. Take your time." You say softly, rubbing her shoulders to comfort her. She hums quietly at your touch, her stomach fluttering at the feeling. She doesn't know why, but your warm hands touching her cold body is making her feel...really good right now. It must just be the alcohol, and the much-needed comfort of a friend. That's all. Isn't it?

"I know, I'm sorry. I just feel like I'm going insane!" She lets out another shaky laugh, and polishes off her tea in one final gulp. She sets the mug on the table, and finishes her story. "I could hear breathing...Will's breathing." Joyce says, looking into your eyes again. "And I could hear this weird noise, like something else, or someone else, was there with him. I kept calling out to him, trying to get an answer. But then, I don't know...lightning struck the house or something, because the phone shocked me and got completely fried." She gives you a look, like she's waiting for you to tell her she's a nutcase and throw her back out into the rain.

"I...don't really know what to say..." You speak apprehensively, absorbing her words for a moment.

"I know, it's crazy. I-I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry for keeping you up so late." She tries to stand up and leave, but you put your hands on her shoulders to stop her. Her eyes snap to yours, wondering what you're up to.

"Look, Joyce. I'm so sorry that Will is missing, and that it seems like someone has taken him. I don't have an explanation for you...but, I don't think you're crazy. Okay? Not one bit." You give her a warm smile, and she slowly returns it. She leans into you for a hug, her head resting on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around her sopping body, trying your best to warm her up. She's still so cold, and shivering violently. You hope she won't get sick, and you wish she'd let you lend her some clothes.

"Thank you, Y/N." She says quietly, the words sounding like music to your ears. You selfishly find yourself thinking about kissing her again. You know it's wrong to be focusing on your attraction to her, when what she needs right now is your support. As her friend. But you can't help it. She's here, in your apartment, her body pressed firmly against yours after she's been standing in the rain. It all feels oddly romantic. You don't expect anything to happen, she's too concerned about her son to think about you in that way right now.

"Should I make more tea? Or do you just want the whiskey?" You ask.

"Just the whiskey, please." Joyce answers, still clinging to you. The moisture in her clothes is transferring through yours, making your nipples show through your t-shirt. She slowly pulls away, eyes flicking down to your chest in reflex. She doesn't mean to look, but she could feel them hardening against her from the cold. You follow her gaze, realizing that it looks like you've just competed in a particularly misogynistic contest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get you all wet. I'm probably ruining your couch, too." She says apologetically, not fully realizing how potentially dirty her words sound to you.

"No, no! It's fine!" You reply, a little too loud. A harsh blush creeps up your cheeks, and you snatch her mug off the table to get her a refill. "Let me get you that drink." You say awkwardly. You're thankful that the placement of the kitchen puts your back to her for a moment, giving you a break from meeting her eyes. Your shaky hand reaches for the bottle of Jack on the counter, and you struggle to open it up and pour it nicely into her cup. You spill some on the counter in your tremors. "Shit." You mutter, going for the dish towel to wipe up the mess.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you nervous, Y/N." Joyce says quietly, having got off the couch to assist you. She puts her hand over yours, helping you dry up the spilled alcohol. You can feel her shoulder brush against your back through the motion, which makes your breath hitch.

"It's fine. Really." You reply unconvincingly.

"I do that a lot, don't I?" She asks knowingly, causing you to gasp.

"Yeah." Is all you can manage to say in response. You turn around to look at her, finding a calm smile on her face. It's odd, really. She was so upset a minute ago, and now she's...flirting?

"Come on, sweetie. Let's sit and talk." Joyce says, grabbing her mug, and the bottle. You follow her wordlessly to the couch, sitting right next to her again. You're stiff as a board at this point. You never expected her to know that you like her in this way, let alone acknowledge it. "Relax, Y/N. It's okay." She says sweetly, which is still freaking you out.

"Joyce, we really don't have to talk about this right now. Your son is missing, and I don't want to take away from that." You try to shut this down. As much as you want to tell her how you feel, and possibly have her reciprocate, the timing isn't right.

"Y/N, please. I know this sounds weird and everything, but I need a distraction. We can talk about something else if you really want to. But, I'm going to lose my mind if I don't take a second to stop fixating on Will." She explains, sounding a bit frustrated. She's highly conflicted about the situation you seem to have found yourselves in. She feels like a bad Mom for wanting to not think about her missing baby boy for even a single moment. But what else can she do? The phone at home is fucked, Hopper is doing all he can, and Jonathan is holding down the fort for the time being. Stewing all night isn't going to help anyone, as awful as the alternative sounds.

"No, I— I get it. We can talk. What do you want to know?" You reply, fully understanding where she's coming from. If you were in her shoes, you'd probably do the same thing.

"Well, I already know you've got a crush on me." Joyce says with a laugh. You don't say anything, freezing up again. She gives you a look, and sighs before taking another sip of whiskey. You've totally forgotten about your tea, quickly picking up your mug to catch up to her. You've already had a couple tonight, but it wouldn't hurt to have a little more. "Y/N, there's nothing to be so afraid of. It's really flattering, actually."

"I'm glad you think so, but...I doubt you feel the same." You say sheepishly, refusing to look at her. This is all too crazy. You're thinking and feeling so many things at once, you're bound to short-circuit any second now.

"I wouldn't say that." Joyce replies softly, placing a hand on your trembling knee. Your eyes go straight to it, but you shake your head in denial.

"This is insane." You breathe.

"Why? You're very pretty, Y/N." She smiles, giving you a gentle squeeze.

Against your own interest, you try to convince her —and yourself— that this can't seriously be happening. "Joyce, please. You're killing me here. You're just tipsy, and upset about Will, and—" She interrupts you by lifting your chin up with her other hand. Her eyes meet yours, and she leans in the press a feather-light kiss to your lips. Before you can think to say anything else, or stop yourself, you grab both sides of her face to hold her closer to you. Your mouth moves with hers, earning another one of those light hums from her at your warmth. You both sit in this moment for what feels like hours, gently turning your heads and moving your lips together.

"You're a really good kisser, Y/N." Joyce says when she pulls away slightly. You keep hold of one another, catching your breath as you take in the gravity of what you've just done. "Have you ever been with a woman before?" She asks, very curious about your prior experience.

"Yes. Well, girls my age back in school." You answer, and she nods at this piece of information. "Have you?" You ask the question back at her.

"No. I never thought I could. Until now." She almost whispers the words, surprised at herself for uttering them at all.

"We don't have to do this if it's too weird." You say, giving her a way out. She can let this all go, blame it on the stress and alcohol and be on her way. You'll never speak of it again, and try not to let things be excruciatingly awkward between the two of you.

"It's not weird. It's...nice." She gives you a reassuring smile, wanting to kiss you again. "Please, Y/N. Let me forget for a little while." She pleads, a light whine lacing her tone.

"Okay." You say softly, pressing your lips to hers again. You take the lead this time, slowly helping her lie down on the couch. Her head meets the armrest, and you kneel above her as you continue to kiss. She makes the sweetest noises against you, which rapidly spreads arousal between your legs. "Can I touch you?" You ask.

"Yes." She answers breathlessly, and you immediately reach for the buttons of her Melvald's uniform. You pop them open one at a time, until the dark blue fabric falls open to reveal her bra. It's lacey and white, the typical mom bra. But it looks gorgeous against her alabaster skin.

"You're beautiful, Joyce." You compliment her, moving your head down to kiss her neck. She moans quietly, like she's trying to keep the noise down. "I wanna hear you, baby. Don't hide your noises from me." You speak lowly against her throat, before sucking on her flesh.

"This feels really good, Y/N." Joyce murmurs, her hands going to your hair to tangle inside it. Your own reach for her chest now, cupping her breasts. They're round, and firm, and you're so happy to finally be touching them. The amount of times you've thought about this is far too many to count.

"Sit up a little." You instruct, backing away slightly to let her up. She does as you ask, and you straddle her lap. You rid her of her soaked shirt, and latch onto her neck again as you reach around to unclasp her bra. The straps fall down her shoulders, and it joins her top shortly after. You back up to look at her chest, licking your lips at the sight. "Damn." You mutter, leading her to lie down once more. You waste no time in planting hot kisses on her chest, leaving a trail of saliva on your journey to her left nipple.

"Y/N." Joyce moans once your lips close around her sensitive bud. Her hips buck upward against yours, sending a flare of pleasure between your legs. She's already such a mess, and you've barely done anything to her yet.

"Are you enjoying yourself, baby?" You ask, licking purposeful circles around her nipple while looking up at her.

"Yes." She answers, making you smile. You move on to her other tit, wanting to give it equal attention. While you do that, your hand lowers downward to the button of her pants. "Wait." She blurts, and you stop. You cease your actions, checking with her to see what's wrong. "I just— I want to touch you, too. Please." Joyce says with intense need.

"Of course, anything you want." You smirk, sitting up. She watches you closely as you pull the hem of your shirt towards your head. You toss it to the floor, your tits bouncing at being released from their cloth prison. Her eyes boggle at your body, she's never seen such a beautiful young woman before.

"Wow, you're gorgeous." She says in disbelief, making you giggle. She brings her hands up, slowly moving them toward your bare chest. She pauses just before her skin meets yours, and she looks at you expectantly.

"Go ahead, Joyce." You give her an affirming nod, smiling wider at her polite apprehension. Joyce's ice-cold fingers meet your tits, making you gasp at the contrast in temperature. "Fuck." It feels so good, finally having the woman you've been pining after touch you in such intimate ways. She massages your chest, watching your expressions change as she caresses you. Joyce carefully rolls your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, which makes you head fall back slightly. She's being so gentle with you, and it's better than you ever could have imagined.

"Is this good?" She asks, sounding very unsure of herself despite your sexy noises. All this excitement is making her very wet, while swarms of butterflies flap about inside her stomach. This is all so thrilling, and new. And she can't think of a better person to do this with.

"Yes, baby. You can use your mouth, too. If you want." You suggest with a cheeky grin.

"Okay." Joyce whispers, she leans in towards your chest, settling on sucking on your right breast. Her warm lips meet your pebbled flesh, and you're overcome with a wave of heat washing over you. You want her so badly, to fuck her and make her scream your name. But she's new to this, so you have to take your time.

"That's really good, baby. You can bite it a little, gently, of course." You offer, and she doesn't hesitate to try it. You gasp aloud at the sensation, putting your arms around her to keep her close. You let her continue to suck and nibble on your tits, rewarding her with praises and moans to help her feel confident in this.

"I want more, Y/N." Joyce murmurs, pulling her lips away from you now.

"Of course. Can you lay back down for me?" You ask sweetly, running your finger along her cheek. She does as you ask, and you scoot down her legs a little. You reach for the button of her pants again, flicking your eyes to hers to make sure she's alright.

"Go ahead. I want this." She insists. You slowly push the button open, and slide her zipper down its track. You keep your eyes on hers, watching her pupils widen as you slide a hand inside her jeans. You slip across her lower stomach, and underneath her panties. Your fingers brush against her clit, making her gasp. "Fuck." You keep going, still watching her for any objections. You slowly stroke her soaked pussy, teasing her bundle of nerves and entrance. "Y/N." Joyce moans, becoming more needy for you by the second. Everything you do feels so damn good, and you know exactly where and how to touch her.

"Does that feel good, Joyce? Do you want more?" You ask seductively, increasing your pace a little. She's so fucking wet, and it's all because of you.

"Yes, please." She begs. You slowly press one finger inside her cunt, making her eyes roll back into her head. "Oh, god..." Her hips buck again, making you chuckle darkly.

"More?" You ask again, wanting her to tell you exactly what she wants.

"More..." She nods frantically, her eyes fallen shut from the pleasure. You insert another finger, and start curling them inside her pussy nice and slow. "Fuck, Y/N. That feels so good." She groans. You love hearing her swear, she really doesn't do it all that often.

"You wanna touch me too, baby?" You question.

"God, yes." She instantly sits upright again, despite her pleasure rapidly building as you keep fingering her. Her hand frantically goes for the hem of your lounging shorts, and she slides right under the thin fabric to find that you're not wearing any underwear. Her hand stops in its tracks again, waiting for permission.

"It's okay, go ahead." You say softly, breathing heavily in anticipation. She nods in affirmation, and carefully drags her fingers along your slit. "Fuck—" You gasp, your breath catching in your throat. She takes this as a sign to journey further, mimicking your actions to bring her fingertips to your soaked hole. She keeps her eyes glued to yours, a sly smile forming on her face. Joyce pushes her middle finger inside your pussy, following your lead as she has done this whole time. You moan at her filling you up, begging with your eyes for another. She obliges, her ring finger joining the other. "Joyce..." You sigh blissfully, the both of you pausing a moment to catch your breath. You gaze at one another lustfully, waiting for the one of you to start moving again. You take the reins once more, pumping your fingers in and out of her cunt at a casual pace. Your knuckles curve just so to hit her g spot, drawing a muted whimper from her lips.

She mirrors you again, moving her digits inside you at the same speed and cadence. "Am I doing this right, Y/N?" She asks through a moan.

"Yeah, you're doing so good. Fuck, you're so wet, baby." You purr, speeding up just a little bit. Joyce does, too. She's a fast learner, that's for sure. You're still straddling her just above the knees, giving you both space to access one another. You're breathing heavily in each other's faces, a thick cloud of lust dizzying your heads as the air thins around you. You're sweating profusely, wound up to an unbearable degree as you finger each other. You can feel a large knot tying itself inside you, rapidly twisting and turning as Joyce fucks you with her hand. You start grinding your hips to meet the rhythm you've set, rolling against her fingers to build yourself up faster. Joyce follows your lead again, doing her best to keep up. She moans louder at the added stimulation, which makes you pump your fingers faster inside her.

"Fuck, Y/N...you're really good at this. I'm getting close." She whines, putting her free hand on your shoulder for leverage as she continues to grind on you.

"So am I, baby. You're doing so well, go a little faster for me." You command, grabbing hold of her as well. She increases her speed to match yours, and your head falls forward slightly at the feeling. Her long fingers hit your sweet-spot perfectly, and you can't wait to cum on her hand. "That's it— fuck, right there." You lift your head up to meet her eyes, and she takes this opportunity to kiss you again. Your motions become frantic and desperate, all teeth and tongues as you continue to touch each other. Your nails dig into one another's shoulders as you hang on for dear life, and your orgasms are waiting for you just over the horizon. "C'mon, ride my hand, just like that." You encourage her, knowing you're both so very close.

"I'm so close, Y/N...you feel so fucking good...I want you to make me cum." Joyce begs, still rolling her hips like her life depends on it.

"I know, baby...we're almost there. We can cum together, mm, I'm gonna make such a mess for you." You reply, just as fucked for her as she is for you. You continue to kiss, and expertly use your fingers, and roll your pelvises to your heart's content, doing everything in your power to bring each other down. You can feel her walls fluttering around your digits, and your own have begun to tremble as well. "That's it, cum with me, Joyce. Let it all go." You say as your own knot finally snaps. "Fuck!" You cry out, your insides clamping around her fingers. You keep up your movements through your high, waiting for her own to come to pass.

"Y/N, I'm gonna—" Joyce tries to speak, but she's cut off by an obscenely loud moan ripping itself from her lungs as you've brought her to climax. Her thighs shake violently, as do yours. You feel her juices spill into your palm, some of which runs down your wrist. You cum messily around her, soaking your shorts completely. You clumsily share another kiss, moaning and gasping as you force your mouths together. You ride out your highs, left sweating and panting as you eventually collapse against one another. Your hands go still inside each other's cunts, and your heads rest on one another's shoulders until you can catch your breath. "That was amazing." Joyce huffs, her entire being buzzing with satisfaction.

"It really was." You reply, pressing a tired kiss to her bare shoulder. You both sit in comfortable silence for a while, basking in your afterglow as the storm rages on outside.

"I should probably get going." She says abruptly, swallowing hard. She hates the idea of leaving you, you've made her feel so good, so seen. You're the one person who hasn't treated her like she's some whacko. But she's also quickly becoming overwhelmed with guilt. Having sex? While her son is missing? In what world does that make sense?

"Oh, yeah. It's pretty late." You respond, doing your best to hide your sadness. You don't want her to leave, there's so much more you want to do with her. But you understand, she has another kid to look after.

You reluctantly remove your fingers from her pussy, bringing them up to your lips while she watches on. You take the wrinkled phalanges into your mouth, sucking her arousal from them. She's musky and sweet, the taste drawing a moan from your lungs.

"Uh..." She contemplates copying you again, but she looks very unsure of the prospect.

"You don't have to do that if you're not comfortable with it, Joyce." You laugh, and she does too.

"Sorry, I just...I've never seen someone do that before." She blushes hard at this confession, which you find so goddamned adorable.

"It's okay." You say kindly, before looking down between your legs. Her hand is still inside your shorts, fingers sheathed in your pussy. "Um, Joyce? You mind?" You ask awkwardly, and she finally remembers that her hand is still touching you.

"Oh, right! Sorry!" She giggles nervously, taking her hand away from you now. You hold back a whine at the loss, getting off of Joyce to pick up her clothes for her, as well as your shirt. You slip it back over your head, and she takes her time to redress. When you're both fully clothed again, you sit beside one another on the couch to say goodbye. "I had a really nice time, Y/N. Thank you for being here for me tonight." Joyce says sweetly, cupping your cheek in admiration.

"I had a good time, too. And I'm always here if you want to do this again." You smile, hoping she'll take you up on that offer.

"I'd like that." She gives you a light nod, and leans in for another gentle kiss. You gladly meet her in the middle, making her melt against you for a moment. You continue to kiss for a solid couple of minutes, until she puts a hand on your chest to pull away. "I have to go, sweetie. But I won't forget this, and I'd like to do this with you again, once all the craziness is over." She talks like she knows you don't want her to go home. That you'd rather she stay here all night, kissing and touching until the sun comes up. And as much as she wants to do all of that, she has more important things to worry about right now. The distraction was definitely earned and well worth it, but the time for selfish wishes is over now.

"I understand, Joyce." You nod, the two of you standing together to walk her to the door. "I'm so glad I could be here for you tonight. Now, you go find your son, okay? And you know where I'll be when you're ready." You open the door, and she steps outside. "Goodnight, Joyce. Get some rest."

"I'll try my best. Goodnight, Y/N." She smiles again, making your heart soar. She's been amazing tonight, and you're hopeful for what the future may hold for the two of you.

...so, it's safe to say that last night was perfect. It's hard to believe that it wasn't all a dream, but I got up this morning to find the mugs we drank out of still sitting on the coffee table. God, she was amazing, diary. Her inexperience was so cute, but she caught on very quickly. I suppose it shouldn't be hard for a woman to know how exactly to please another one. That's not to say we're all the same, far from it. I just mean that, withsimilar parts and all, it's easier to figure it out.

I can't stop replaying how it all went in my mind. Her soft lips on mine, making me melt with every kiss. Her supple breasts in my hands, a thin layer of rainwater slicked over them, the cold making her nipples erect. The way her pussy felt under my hand, so slick, with a small amount of hair on the outer parts. Fuck, I bet she looks beautiful underneath those pants. I didn't get to see, thanks to our haste in the heat of the moment. But next time, I'll make damn sure to see her in all her glory.

And that's not even the half of it. Every little moan and gasp she let out, it's what I imagine an angel would sound like, if I was into that kind of thing. Our little session didn't last nearly as long as I'd hoped it would, but all the anticipation and rushed actions definitely heightened the experience. I've never had an orgasm so fast in my life, except maybe by myself. I just hope that all this stuff with Will can be resolved, I've got to have another taste of Joyce as soon as possible.

November 9th, 1983

Dear diary,

The police found Benny Hammond dead at his restaurant, with a gaping bullet wound in his head. They claim it's a suicide, but that doesn't seem right. It's extremely odd timing, given Will's disappearance. I heard some people talking about it when they came in the shop earlier, it appears the rumor mill is running wild with this one. They said they heard some of Benny's regulars claim there was a young kid at the restaurant the night Will went missing. And, ergo, that Benny did something to the boy. Out of guilt, he then shot himself, according to them.

But Idon't buy that bullshit at all. Benny was a nice guy, he always took care of us kids when we'd come around to eat and hang out. His burgers were the best in town, outselling the Burger King every single time. But I suppose that'sover now, Benny never trusted anyone else to make his food. He knew how to make it perfect, anyone else would've sullied the timeless quality he strived for.

This news has done nothing to calm everyone down. If anything, it's made things worse. Everyone is giving one another sidewaysglances, avoiding hanging around any one location for too long. It's like we've all collectively forgotten that we know one another, that we're classmates, neighbors, family, friends. Everyone is a suspect, and simultaneously suspects everybody else. It's an eerie feeling, and even more unsettling that this newfound attitude has taken hold so quickly.

November 10th, 1983

Dear diary,

I can't believe I'm writing these words down. I don't want them to be true, my hand almost refuses to put them to the page. But...they found Will. His body was discovered last night at the Sattler Quarry, floating in the water. I don't know what to say, it's honestly a big shock. I can't stop thinking of Joyce, and Jonathan. They must be completely devastated. My heart breaks for them, and for Will. I thought about calling Joyce, or going over there to give my condolences. But, Idon't know what I could possibly say that would be useful to her. Her son is dead, I'm sure no possible arrangement of words would make that fact any less horrible.

I wonder...does she at least have closure now? Has this dreadful discovery let her stop worrying about where he is, or who may have taken him? As terrible as it is, has her mind been able to just...stop? Can she stop toiling over the possibilities now? Can she work towards grieving and accepting this, and eventually move on? I'd like to think so. Otherwise, she might just snap.

November 11th, 1983

Dear diary,

Today was Will's funeral. I'm surprised the family got the arrangements in order so quickly. But, I suppose there's no use in keeping Will locked away in a freezer. I went, as did quite a few people. Friends and neighbors, some of Will's classmates and teachers. It was a bleak affair, and I noticed Joyce's ex, Lonnie, basically clinging to her side like a leech. She's told me all about him, and he sounds like a total shithead. I'm not surprised he's used his own son's death as a way to worm his way back into her life, though.

The whole thing with them was odd, like she didn't want to be around him, or even at the funeral at all. It's like she thought it was all a sick joke, a farce. I found that a bit strange, and it only got weirder when she managed to get away from Lonnie and talk to me alone at the reception afterwards...

"Hey, um...Y/N?" Joyce says as she comes up to you. You've been sitting at a table at Will's funeral reception by yourself, nursing a plate of cheese cubes and deli meat. You're really just picking at it, you're not feeling particularly hungry today. But you perk up a little when you hear Joyce's voice say your name.

You look up at her, finding that same nervous woman that showed up at your door the other night. She's dressed all in black, as is customary for this kind of thing. But, besides the awful reason why she's wearing her black dress, she looks absolutely beautiful in it. She's usually more of a jeans kind of woman, which you love. But you've honestly never seen her look better than she does right now. "Hi, Joyce. What's up?" You ask casually, feeling unsure of how mournful you should sound as you speak.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She asks, shifting her eyes around to see if Lonnie is looking for her.

"Uh, yeah, sure. What about?" You ask, finding her urgency rather odd.

"Come with me." Joyce takes hold of your hand, pulling you out of your chair before you can protest. You try your best to keep up, struggling to not fall over in your heels. She drags you through the less populated areas of the house hosting this little event, and finds a spacious closet. She opens the door when no one is looking, and pulls you inside with her. It's pitch dark in here, and there's various coats and shoes stored on the rack and shelves behind you.

"Joyce, what's going on—" You try to ask, but she cuts you off by grabbing your face and kissing you. You grunt in surprise against her, before immediately melting a second later. You're surprised at her risking someone finding you both in here, but you suppose grief makes one do some really weird shit. She pulls away from you a moment later, the both of you left out of breath afterwards.

"Sorry, I've been wanting to do that from the second you showed up to the cemetery." Joyce says with a small smile, which you return.

"It's okay. I felt the same way." You cup her cheek, preparing to lean in and kiss her again. But her face falls when she remembers the real reason she brought you in here.

"Hold on, Y/N. That's not why I needed to talk to you." She stops you, taking hold of your hand.

"Oh, okay." You say sadly.

"I know, sweetie. I just— I need you to listen to me, okay?" She speaks seriously, drawing your eyes to hers.

"Okay." You nod, wondering what this is about.

"Good. Now, I know this is going to sound absolutely insane. But that body we just buried? It's not Will." Joyce says, watching your eyes blow out wide.

"Joyce, I—" You shake your head, unable to understand. She saw the body, and signed for it, and held a funeral for it. How can it not be Will? "I don't understand. How is it not your son?" You ask curiously.

"I just know, Y/N. I swear to you, that...thing is not my boy. You don't have to believe me, but a mother knows these things. Everyone is telling me I'm wrong about this, but I can feel it. I've seen him, I've talked to him!" She goes on, explaining her way of communicating with her son through Christmas lights, and seeing him in a hole in the wall, trapped with some monster. It all sounds fucking nutso. You have half a mind to shout for help during her explanation, it's honestly frightening you how sincerely she believes all of this. But nonetheless, you listen to her. Joyce Byers isn't one to lie, or give merit to make-believe stories.

"Joyce, you know I care about you. But this all sounds..." You trail off, failing to find the words. You don't want to call her crazy. She's been called that plenty, and clearly doesn't care. You don't want to hurt her feelings, but you're so very confused at this point.

"I'm fully aware of how this sounds, Y/N. But you have to believe me. Somebody's got to." She says emphatically, almost breaking down in tears.

"Okay..." You take a second to mull it over, though it's difficult to gather your thoughts. You eventually nod, deciding to at least humor her. "Alright, Joyce. If you say these things are true, then I believe you." You reply, doing your best to comfort her. You pull her in for a hug, which she gladly folds herself into.

"Thank you, Y/N." She says, muffled against your shoulder and neck. You stroke her hair as you hold her close, breathing in the lovely scent of her dark brown locks. Your eyes close for a moment, savoring her warmth. You're sure she has to get back soon, Lonnie is probably losing his mind looking for her right now. Joyce lifts her head up to look at you, finding your kind eyes waiting for her. She smiles, raising a hand to cup your face. "I keep remembering how pretty you are every time I look at you." She says sweetly, barely above a whisper.

"So do I." You reply, unable to stop glancing down at her lips. She leans in, and you follow. Your mouths meet once again, drawing muted sounds of satisfaction from you both. You keep things relatively tame, just heated kisses with a dash of tongue in the mix. But anything else is deemed inappropriate, given where you happen to be at the moment. "Mmm." You hum against Joyce, and you're left wishing to stay in this sliver of time for as long as possible. You know in your heart that this cannot be, that this will be over before you know it. Joyce has bigger things to worry about right now than making out with you in some random closet.

"Joyce?" You hear a male voice calling for her, Lonnie, you assume. She pulls away, wiping a single tear that's fallen from her eye.

"I have to go, Y/N. But I really don't want to." Joyce says, sniffing softly. You're like her little light in all this darkness. You make her feel happy, and safe, and warm. She wishes she could bring you further into all the chaos surrounding her. Perhaps your presence would help her figure all this shit out. But she knows she can't. It wouldn't be fair to you, or to her boys. They need her full attention, and she's completely obligated to them above all else.

"I don't want you to go either, Joyce. But I understand. Will needs you, and so does Jonathan. Like I've said before, I'll be waiting until you're ready." You say calmly. You're willing to wait as long as it takes to see her again. You know your patience will be worth it.

"Thank you, sweetie." She smiles, before reaching for the door to peek outside of it.

"Joyce, what the hell are you doin' in there?" Lonnie asks as he comes up to the closet. You think fast, hiding yourself against the other side of the door so he doesn't see you.

"I-I just..." Joyce struggles to think of any excuse. "I just needed a moment, away from everyone. It's been a long day." She says nervously, hoping he buys it.

"Alright. Let's get ya home then. You need to rest." Lonnie says with a sigh, rolling his eyes a bit at Joyce hiding away from everyone.

"Okay." Joyce slips out of the closet, closing it behind her to leave you in the darkness. You give it a few minutes before you take a look to see if anyone's around. Finding no one, you slink out, and get your coat and purse to go home. You've had enough of this saddening day, and Joyce's strange confession to you didn't make it any more palatable.

November 13th, 1983

Dear diary,

Well, it turns out Joyce was right all along. Will was found barely alive in a cabin in the woods, of all places. The body they initially found was some other kid, rapidly decomposed from being in the water for a couple of days. His parents made an appearance on the news once they were notified. It's so strange, how could the cops have been so wrong? And why was some other random kid wandering around in a place where he isn't even from? The family lives two towns over, that's miles and miles away. But I suppose, the truth is always stranger than fiction.

Speaking of fiction, Joyce called me from the hospital and assured me that everything she told me about the lights and the monster in the wall was all in her head. It's so odd, she was adamant about all of that shit being true just two days ago. And now she's chalking it up to grief and stress? I'm not so sure I buy that. But what else can I really think about it? Will is safe and sound, and the dead boy was properly identified. Case closed, I guess. I don't know, I suppose I'm just glad everything seems to have gone back to normal. People can stop worrying about going missing, and focus on the upcoming holiday season instead.

I'm certainly looking forward to turning my attention towards more happy things. Joyce, for example. Especially after how well my trip to the hospital went...

"Knock knock. I hear someone's back from the dead." You joke as you step into the doorway of Will's hospital room. You find his frail little body laying in a bed, hooked up to a few different machines. But he smiles at you all the same, as does Joyce when she sees you.

"Y/N!" Will exclaims, perking up at your presence. You go over to his bed, sitting beside him.

"I've brought you a little gift." You say, holding out a small rectangular package wrapped in red paper.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that, Y/N." Joyce says modestly.

"Of course I did! I've missed this little guy these last few days. He's my favorite customer." You turn your head to speak to her, and her smile grows wider.

"What is it?" Will asks, eager to open his new present.

"Well, you'll just have to use all your strength to tear open the paper and find out!" You chuckle, handing him the gift. He quickly rips it open, revealing the Combat Rock album by The Clash. He turns the tape over to look at the track list, his eyes lighting up at finding a particular song on it.

"This has my favorite song!" He looks at you in wonderment, thinking you're psychic or something for knowing that he loves "Should I Stay or Should I Go".

"Oh, I know. You hum it all the time when you come into the shop. You've got good taste, kiddo." You reply, your heart warming at how happy you've made him.

"Thanks, Y/N. I love this." Will says, sitting up to give you a hug. You do your best to be gentle with him, he's been through a lot this week.

"You're welcome, Will." You answer, giving his hair a light ruffle as you pull away. He giggles at you playing around, though it quickly turns into a violent cough. "Shit. Here." You act quickly, handing him his glass of water from the table. Will takes it, sipping through the straw sticking out of the top. "Better?" You ask.

"Yeah. Thanks." He swallows thickly, and lays back down. The poor kid looks so exhausted, which feels like your cue to leave.

"Well, I'm gonna let you rest up. Hopefully I'll see you back at Waxed Out sometime, okay?" You say as you stand up from the bed. He nods at you, and you turn to leave. You're about to walk out the door without another word to give the family some time together, when Joyce stops you.

"Y/N, can we talk for a minute?" She says, getting up from her chair to follow you.

"Yeah, sure." You answer, and she does the same as she'd done at the funeral. She finds some random supply closet, pulling you inside of it with her. "Jeez, you sure have a thing for closets, Joyce." You joke, which makes her laugh a little.

"Oh, I know, I know. I hate that we keep meeting like this. But I just need some time with you. I can't stop thinking about you, now that Will is safe. I'm so glad you came to see him, it means a lot." She speaks excitedly, which looks so damn cute on her. The talking with her hands, her animated expressions. It's all so unbelievably attractive to you.

"I'm just glad he's alright." You pause, her eyes finding yours throwing you off. "What about you? Are you alright? I know you said on the phone that everything you told me before was—"

"Stress. Just...stress." She cuts you off, insisting on her modified story. "But I'm fine. It's all over now, thank God."

"Fine enough for me to do this?" You ask smoothly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek.

"Yeah, that's kinda why I brought you in here." She laughs breathily, waiting for you to kiss her. You grant her wish, pressing your lips to hers. "Mmm." She hums against you, and you gently bite her bottom lip. She gasps at the light sting, allowing your tongue to slip into her mouth. She moans quietly, and you lead her backwards until she's against one of the shelves of cleaning supplies. It creaks slightly once she makes contact, but she doesn't seem to mind your dominance.

"Is there a lock on this door?" You ask aloud, looking over at the knob. There appears to be one, so you quickly click it into the locked position. You return to your task of making out with Joyce, and your hands go to her chest to feel her up through her sweater.

"Y/N..." She exhales between heated kisses. You continue to massage her chest, but you don't think stripping down would be wise in such a populated place, locked door or not.

"Tell me what you want, baby." You purr, sliding your hand under the hem of her top as well as her bra to feel her breast entirely. She moans as you roll her nipple between your fingers, unable to think straight.

"I don't know, I just want you." She whines, her own hands grabbing at your ass. She keeps you close to her, continuing to meet you in the middle with her perfect lips.

"That's okay, Joyce. I can take the lead if you want me to." You reply. She nods, and you lower your other hand to the button on her jeans. You pop it open, and pull down the zipper. You slide your hand inside her pants, immediately finding her slick folds.

"Fuck." She whimpers once your fingers meet her clit, and you make slow, purposeful circles around it. She makes the sweetest noises as you touch her, all of which get you wetter by the second. You keep kissing her, on the mouth, and what you can reach of her neck. "So good..." Joyce murmurs. She finds herself wanting to participate too, so she quickly opens up your own jeans.

"Mmm, someone's learning..." You laugh lowly as she puts her hand inside your pants. You gasp at the coldness of her fingers on you, shocking your warm flesh with an icy touch. She gradually thaws, mimicking your actions to rub your bundle of nerves.

"I'm just following you, Y/N." She replies, going so far as to move you backwards now. Your back hits the shelf on the other side of the closet, Joyce appears to want to take control for a bit. She puts herself a step ahead of you, pressing her fingers inside your pussy. She wants to feel how wet you are, to make you moan and see your beautiful face when you cum.

"Fuck, Joyce." You copy her a second after, your digits filling up her soaked hole. You rapidly curl them, drawing more noises from her lips. You both try to keep the noise down, you'd hate for someone walking by to catch you. You decide that you want to try something different with her, to give her something more than just your fingers. You stop kissing her for a second, still pumping your digits inside of her. She follows your speed, which makes you want to scream from how good it feels. You look around the small room, finding a neglected set of filing cabinets in the corner. You carefully maneuver her in their direction, her ass smacking against them a little too loud.

"Careful, Y/N. We can't get caught in here." Joyce pants.

"Sorry. I just want to try something..." You say softly, pulling your fingers out of her. She does the same to you, and you swiftly lift her up onto the cabinets. Her legs dangle over the edge, and you take off your coat, it's far too hot for it now. You position yourself between her legs to kiss her again. She moans into your mouth, her own tongue coming out to play this time. "Have you ever had oral sex before?" You ask as you pull away, hoping you don't sound too formal. You just worry that Joyce might not understand any slang terms you might use.

"I mean, I've given it. But I've never..." She trails off, blushing harshly.

"Do you want to try it?" You question, your eyes filled with lustful hunger. You want to see her, and taste her, feel her hands tangling in your hair while you make her scream your name.

"Yes." She whispers. Without another word, you reach for the waistband of her jeans. You pull them down, along with her panties. She helps you out a bit, lifting herself up so you can get them all the way down. You bunch the fabric around her ankles, and duck down to kneel between her bound legs. You spread her thighs apart gingerly, and you fail to hold back a moan at the sight before you. She's got a beautiful mound of hair all around the outside, dark brown and loosely curled. Her clit and folds are shiny and wet, the dim overhead light catching the arousal spread around them. And her entrance, bright pink, and throbbing with anticipation. You've never seen a prettier pussy in your entire life.

"Wow." You exhale the word, unable to contain your awe of her. Your eyes flick up to hers, and she blushes harder at your admiration. She's never seen anyone look at her this way before, as if she's a goddess or something. "Scoot forward a little, baby." You order politely. She does as you ask, putting her glistening cunt right in front of your face. You can smell her, how turned on she is...it's so fucking intoxicating. "You ready?" You ask, confirming that this is exactly what she wants.

"Yeah." She nods confidently, anxious to see what your lips and tongue will feel like against her heat.

"Good." You start slow, leaving open-mouthed kisses from her knee, all the way up to her inner thigh. She breathes heavily as you do this, your teasing is driving her mad. You repeat these actions on the other side, before settling in front of where she needs you the most. Your shuddering breath fans against her, and you finally lean in to lick a long stripe from her entrance to her clit.

"Oh, god..." She moans at the sensation of your warm tongue swiping along her slit. Her hands lower to your head, fingers tangling in your hair just like you'd hoped they would. You let out a small moan against her, making her hips buck at the vibrations. "Fuck, Y/N...this is...so good." Joyce whimpers, and you proceed to flick your tongue against her sensitive bud, while also sliding the entire length of it inside her hole on occasion. You eat up every single noise she makes, and they push you to lick her harder and faster.

You grip her left thigh to keep her close, while your free hand lowers to give you some pleasure of your own. You doubt Joyce is up for reciprocating this particular activity, which you don't mind one bit. There's something about giving oral that's so much better than receiving it. Sure, getting head is pretty damned amazing, but you can't get over the intense rush you feel when you make someone else cum using only your mouth. It's like the ultimate exchange of power, to have any guy or girl you do this to in the palm of your hand. And once it's all over, their mind is thoroughly blown, and they're ever so grateful to you for your service. Strangely enough, it's actually highly rewarding.

"Mmm." You hum as your own fingers glide across your clit, though they quickly move towards your dripping entrance. You're unbelievably wet, so much so that your fingers slip right into your cunt. You continue to eat Joyce out to your heart's content, her hands digging further into your hair.

"I know this is my first time doing this...but you're really good at it, Y/N." Joyce praises, her words sounding like music to your ears. They come out low and breathy, but her tone is still sweet as can be. Just like the rest of her.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, baby." You reply, slipping your tongue inside her entrance again.

"Fuck." She gasps, her head falling back against the wall. You repeatedly press on her g-spot, and more muted moans fall from her lips. You also increase the pace of your own fingers pumping within your pussy. You keep this up for a while, taking your time to feel every last inch of Joyce's cunt with your mouth, and timing yourself to hopefully cum alongside her. Her nails snake further in towards your scalp as the minutes tick past, and her pelvis bucks into your face whenever you discover a new sensitive spot between her legs. "I'mgetting close, Y/N...don't stop." Joyce whines, her thighs jolting more and more with every stroke and flick you make on her.

"Wouldn't...dream...of it..." You pant out the words between licks, tightening your grip on her thigh. Her muscles tremble beneath your hold, you can tell it's taking everything in her not to thrash around or clamp her legs around your skull. You're not quite on the same page, orgasm-wise. But you're trying your damndest to catch up. You finger yourself as fast as you can, winding up an impatient knot inside your belly. You hate to rush this, but you've probably been gone too long as it is. It's a wonder no one has come looking for you or Joyce yet.

"I'm gonna cum...keep going...right there..." Joyce whimpers, sensing her high fast approaching.

"Mmm." You hum in response, repeating the motions that her moans say are working the best. Rapid swirls around her clit, interspersed with quick darts of your tongue inside her pussy. That's another thing you love about giving head, figuring out the different methods and speeds that your partner finds most enjoyable. It's like cracking a safe, using your tongue and lips as your tools, with their orgasm serving as the elusive riches inside.

"Y/N, I'm gonna....shit—" Joyce gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan that's ripping itself from her lungs. Her thighs quake, instinctively closing around your head. You lap up her juices as they spill out of her, groaning against her at the taste. She's even sweeter than the night at your apartment, and so warm. You're still not at your end yet, much to your annoyance. Usually it doesn't take long for you to cum when you do it yourself, but tonight is proving to be a challenge. Regardless, you continue to get yourself there, while licking at Joyce until her high dies down. "Fuck." She breathes heavily, slumped against the wall with her eyes closed and hands laying slack in her lap. "That was amazing, Y/N." She praises, taking her time to calm down. Sweat drips down along the side of her head, and the underarms of her sweater are completely soaked through.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Joyce." You murmur, pulling your mouth away from her now. You continue to finger yourself, gazing up at her exhausted body to get yourself off.

"Do you want some help, sweetie?" She asks, her eyes open now as she watches what you're doing.

"Yes, please." You answer, almost whining. You've become a bit frustrated now, needy for your climax. Hopefully Joyce can help you get it. You quickly stand up, still stuck between her legs. You take your hand out of your pants, which she immediately replaces with hers. "Joyce..." You whimper as the touch of her fingers on your clit feels so much better than your own. You can't look away from her, and the caring smile on her face. She keeps you close to her with a hand on your shoulder, and she gradually makes her way to your slick entrance. She slips one finger inside, causing you to moan as quietly as you can. She adds the other right after, which only makes you louder.

"Shh, quiet down. Let me make you feel good, Y/N." Joyce coos, pumping her digits inside you painfully slow.

"Go faster, baby. I need you." You beg in a whisper. She increases her speed, and you finally feel like you're getting somewhere. "More. I need more." You whine, almost in tears as you hold her gaze. She tuts at the pained look on your face, realizing what a hard time you're having.

"It's okay. I'll take care of you." She presses her lips to yours, and your eyes flutter closed. She takes the lead, slipping her tongue into your mouth and picking up the pace. Joyce goes as fast as she can, giving her best effort to help you get what you desperately want. You can sense it, all of her affectionate actions are rapidly building you up.

"Just like that, baby." You exhale between steamy kisses. You firmly hold her shoulders, waiting for the knot inside you to snap. You're extremely close now, thanks to her longer, more efficient fingers.

"You're almost there, just let it all go sweetie." Joyce says calmly, her thumb running over your clit to seal your fate. You kiss her hard to soften the scream that begs to escape you. Your knees buckle, and you almost fall over as your orgasm takes hold. Complete and utter ecstasy rushes through you, your insides pulsating wetly around her fingers. You continuously moan down her throat, unable to stop until the pleasure subsides. You collapse into Joyce, and she carefully takes her hand out of your jeans to put her arms around you. "There ya go. Feel better now?" She asks sweetly, stroking your sweat-dampened hair.

"Yes, much better. Thank you." You huff out the words, unable to think straight. Joyce lets you stay still like this for a few minutes, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. But as always, this content, happy occasion must be drawn to a close.

"I'd better get back, Y/N." She says quietly.

"I know. Ugh, we need a real night to ourselves one of these days." You suggest, pulling away from her embrace so you can get yourselves together. You duck under her legs again, and do up your jeans. She straightens out her own clothes, and nods.

"That would be nice. We could order in, have a couple drinks...maybe watch a movie?" You love every last word that passes her lips, and her eagerness to make actual plans with you.

"Sounds perfect, Joyce. Just tell me a day, whatever works for you." You reply, picking your coat up off the floor and slipping it on.

"I will. But I'm afraid this is goodbye for now, again." She jokes, making you both giggle lightly. She gets down from the filing cabinets, and meets you once more before she has to go. "I'll call you as soon as I can, Y/N. I promise." She gives you a small kiss, and she hesitates to pull away. You both let out a shaky breath, sharing a satisfied smile afterwards.

"I'll be looking forward to it. You'd better get back to your kids. It's getting late, so I'm gonna head home." You go to the door to leave first this time, poking your head out to see if anyone's around. The nurse's station is just around the corner, but you manage to slip out unnoticed. You make a beeline for the door, feeling really nervous that maybe someone saw you. But you know they didn't. You hope Joyce makes it back to Will's room alright, but you don't want to linger around to check.

...I walked the long way home, and it was probably one of the best ones I've ever taken. All the weight of the last few days melted away with every step. Hawkins finally feels safe again. There's no more fear roiling beneath the town's surface, no more paranoia between neighbors. Everything is the way it should be. Sure, we'll miss Benny dearly, and that other kid that drowned is unfortunate. But at least now we know that those incidents were self-inflicted, or accidents. That's the worst thing that can happen here. At least, I'd like to think so.

I spent a good amount of my walk thinking about Joyce, replaying every little detail of all our small meetings. I can't wait to see her again, and have some real time together. I'm not sure where this thing we have is going to go, if it does go anywhere at all. I don't mind a fling, but I wouldn't say no to a long-term relationship either. I'm unsure what Joyce wants, but I have a feeling that she can't fully commit herself to anyone. Not right now, anyway. As wonderful as it is that Will has been brought home safe, he still needs a lot of extra care and attention. He looked so withered and sickly in that hospital bed, I have no idea when he'll fully recover. I'm sure Joyce is going to spend her every waking moment nursing him back to health. She's such a great mom, I couldn't see her going about it any other way.

November 25th, 1983

Dear Diary,

Last night was my...date?...with Joyce. We did exactly as we'd planned at the hospital. She rented a movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's. She said it's one of her favorites, and I totally agree. We ordered in some Chinese, and ate and drank wine on my couch while snuggling up together. Ugh, she's so goddamn warm in the best possible way. It's like all this love and light radiates out of her, shining cozily upon those she cares about.

When we'd finished dinner and the film, we took things to my bedroom. We made out heavily for what felt like hours, I could've been satisfied by just doing that, honestly. But she wanted more, she was practically begging for it. And what kind of woman would I be to say no? We finally saw each other completely naked, and my god, Joyce is a fucking goddess. To see her all laid out on my bed like that, I swear I had to be dreaming. She was very pleased with my body as well, which was flattering. I don't know what it is, but being with an established woman like her caused a little self-doubt regarding my own appearance.

We did everything we've done before. The groping, fingering, and oral sex. She even went down on me this time. Joyce was a bit unsure of herself at first, but I gave her a little guidance, and she took to it like a fish to water. Shit, her mouth is something else, that's for sure. She even went so far as to lap up all of my cum when it spilled onto her face. She was far more bold than the other times, and it was unbelievably sexy. We also took things a step further, grinding our pussies together until we came at the same time. That was...a challenge, at first. The positioning is kind of awkward, and it's difficult to maintain a cohesive rhythm if you're new at it. But once we figured it out, it was unbelievable. Our sweating bodies rolling and grinding, the gorgeous moans Joyce made to harmonize with mine, being able to see each other's faces twist in pleasure with every move. I'll never forget it.

Joyce left pretty early in the morning, but not without waking me up to say goodbye. She didn't want me to wake up to her already being gone, which I appreciated. I totally would've burst into tears if that happened, convincing myself that it was all a dream. And I wouldn't have been able to bear that, not with how mind-blowing she was last night.

December 5th, 1983

Dear diary,

Well, Joyce came by the shop today. I wish I could say I was happy about it, but I'm really not. She came in with Will, who quickly ran off to check out the new releases in the corner. Joyce came up to the counter to talk to me. She said that while she adores me, and is so grateful for the times we've had, that she can't get into a relationship right now.

I get it. I'd already thought out every possible outcome of this short entanglement of ours. Most of which go exactly like this. She just doesn't have the time, or mental capacity to maintain something with me. She has to look after Will, he needs her more than ever right now. It's not personal, I know that. And as much as I thought I'd made my peace with that, and prepared myself for this to happen, it still hurt like a bitch.

I told her it was fine, even though my heart was sinking, and my stomach turned in the most unsettling way. I didn't want to stop seeing her, but it wasn't solely up to me to decide that for us. She took hold of my hand, reiterating that it hurts her to let me go. I did everything I could to not cry in front of her, and I managed to hold it all in until she walked out the door. Joyce did shed a couple herself, I know it pains her to disappoint anyone. But we said our goodbyes, and she made it clear that I could still come by Melvald's like I used to. For her support and comforting words, as a friend. And I will, once the heartache goes away. It'll just take a little time, and maybe a good rebound.

[chaosfairy18]

Hi friend :D

Care to share any AUs that you have ideas for, but haven’t gotten to write yet?

I in fact would love to share some of them! Most aren't thought out completely story-wise but I think they would be cute :)

First a medieval au that is mostly concentrating on Bumswiftery (yes I know I am a bit hyperfocused right now) where Skittery is the prince (his father, the King, is kind of evil but he doesn't yet know), Swifty is a knight and they are tasked to find the Witch/Mage living in the woods because the Queen is ill. That Mage is in fact Bumlets and somehow the stories about 'evil forest witches' are very wrong as he's just living there in peace with his apprentice Flipper (some townsfolk thought an 'offering' to the forest witch would be a good idea and Bumlets didn't want to let the kid go back to them and instead teaches him magic.)

Of course the King is at fault here and just wants to get his hands on the Mage to use those powers for himself, because what else. And then Skittery and Swifty go to safe Bumlets :)

Ok next has a bit less thoughts but Restaurant AU where Jack and Davey have some american style diner but it is still a restaurant with a bar too and almost open 24/7. Of course most newsies work there, for example Spot is a bartender (and no of course he didn't threaten David so he and Race always have the same shift nooo), Race a cook, Skittery and Bumlets are servers (and Swifty is definitely not coming there just for them). Also I thought it would be funny for Dutchy to work at the local hospital and after night shifts to go there and then have half a very tired panic because the bartender (Specs) is very cute and he has a night shift behind him and looks like shit. Just all cute shenanigans in modern you know?

Thennn a bit about the boarding school au maybe? It isn't as focused on the school as it sounds, but this one is focused on Specs/Dutchy and probably set in the 70s/80s because it feels most boarding school things are around that time. Dutchy is known to be gay and people tend to avoid him but Specs, the new kid, gets partnered with him for a project and they find out they both enjoy the paranormal and ghost hunting. Of course they sneak out at night to search for ghosts somewhere in the older parts of the school. Also a fun part would be if Specs is in a kinda Addams Family style family? Meaning he has definitely already seen ghosts before but Dutchy's enthusiasm is amusing. Also Sarah is there as Specs friend from home and she is dressing very goth which I think would suit her a lot actually.

Last but not least Masquerade which is kind of just a fairytale AU focusing on Snitch/Itey where Pulitzer (even though no one knows at first) is turning the people on the Masquerade ball to stone and then is intending to get a high reward to fix things or smth it isn't completely thought out. Of course of the couples some are only partly turned to stone as some were out in the halls (or for Sprace they didn't notice much of it at all as they had snuck out into the gardens to make out). And then Snitch, Bumlets and someone else I forgot were hired to go to the ball and steal things and act as scapegoats but Snitch really wants to help the prince (Itey) especially as he notices Pulitzer is actually the one behind everything. We mostly did this AU to choose fancy clothes for everyone which was really great.

So yeah those were both mine and @thatoneandlonelyemo2005 's AUs because we talk about them a looooot and we have so many more that are more or less good to talk about in public. Thanks for the ask! 🩵

[juha-art]

Suvi for the WBN playlists?

sorry this is so long I'm insane about her

'I can still smell the fire / Though I know it's long died out / The smoke still hangs in my hair / And on some quiet evenings it burns my eyes' To be true to Suvi's character we have to start with heartbreak and work our way up. Suvi's memory of the night she lost her parents, and the way it shaped her- 'Don't dare regret anything / Remember what you're here for'

'I'm a tulip in a cup / I stand no chance of growing up / I've made my peace, I'm dead, I'm done / I watch you live to have my fun' Children's adventure Suvi, never getting a chance to make decisions, always doing what she's told, staying behind when Eursulon and Ame run around, watching them live... Aabria said it best- being treated like a child means being put away by yourself somewhere for your own good.

'Smiling from our ivory tower / Wrapped in scents, embroiled in flowers / Enchanted views but I feel powerless' The Citadel! soldier training, leader track, on top of the world but still feeling powerless and locked away.

'Brother, sister too / Do what you must do / Don't trust people you meet, yeah, yeah' Going out to the real world with a soldier's perspective, dealing with the more.. naive Eursulon and Ame. Doing what she has to do, what she was trained to do. The decisions aren't too hard to make. Maybe too easy.

'Easily comes the glamour / Intimidating, radiate power (..) Comrades link arms, we go to bars / People take my picture' I put it on Steel's playlist as well but Suvi had to get it from someone.. little dog barking behind the big dog. Apprentice Archmage in all of her glamour, respected wherever she goes. Big 'do you know who I am' energy.

'I feel so ignored / I want to be adored / I'm so immature / Throw tantrums on the floor' Suvi's no good, very bad day. Aabria needs to take her dice to couple's counseling or something that was rough.

'Fault lines tremble underneath my glass house / But I put it out of my mind / Long enough to call it courage / To live without a lifeline / I bend the definition of faith / To exonerate my blind eye' Suvi's unique relationship to The Citadel's legacy, being the most aware of it's shortcomings, having grown up with witches and a spirit, but the most unwilling to question it because how could she? How could she question the home her parents sacrificed themselves for, the home that raised and trained her, protected and represented by her surrogate mother? A literal glass house, but her home nonetheless.

Suvi cleaning the bathroom when Ame and Eursulon are away, 'children hate cleaning but Suvi has a way to make it important'. Being good because if she's good enough her parents will come back. And then cleaning after her brother again when Ame and Eursulon run off but she stays, because Steel said to keep it on ice. Because she has to be good and this is some good she can do. The soft melody interrupted by 'that's not it'- repeating again and again until she gets it right. Casting mending again and again until she does it just like her mother used to. Finding it in her parent's notes later, talking to her dad..

'If I cleaned everything would you come back?' in a way, yes.

✨ send me a WBN character and I'll make a short (oops) annotated playlist for them ✨ my other WBN playlists ✨

[lord-of-the-harvest]

Pleasure, Pain, and Power Chapter 19

Chapter 19 Masquerade Of Nightmares 1/2

Summary: It’s almost Halloween, so Ren gets Jasmine ready for a mysterious party held by his client!

Contains: Forced feminization, mentions of hair shaving

MDNI

“Mmmm!~” Jasmine stretched her arm around Ren, irritated by his glowing laptop screen. A few weeks had passed since Ren’s final tie, and their relationship had gone back to relative normalcy. Jasmine’s wounds were healing nicely, and Ren had calmed down significantly, with his fur and weight pleasantly coming back. Now, after another long day of Ren being away at work, they were finally cuddled up in bed, but something on his laptop still kept his attention. “Mmm, Ren, it’s late, can’t you put your work away?” Jasmine looked up at him, but knew better than to look at his computer. There was no telling what secrets, conversations, or even gore he was looking at. “No, Darling, I’ve put this off too long, and I need to figure it out.” He clicked around the screen, not taking his eyes off it. Jasmine dropped her head back on her pillow and rolled over, finally catching Ren’s attention. “Hm, well fine, what do you want to go as for Halloween?” Jasmine’s head perked up, and she turned back around. “What do you mean? What are we doing for Halloween?” Ren sighed and threw his head back on the headboard, tired from his long day. “An event a client of mine is throwing. He likes these elaborate gatherings, masquerades really, and he invited us to his Halloween party.” Jasmine was no longer focused on sleep, and her head flooded with questions and ideas. Her eyes darted to his laptop, and sure enough, he was looking up costumes. “Aah! Why didn’t you say so? Oh I have so many ideas!” She took the computer off Ren’s lap, and started scrolling. “I thought about putting you in a fox suit, but I think that’d be a little on the nose. Then I thought maybe a witch, but I’d be lost for what I would wear. He likes pets to match their owners at these things…” A claw traced down Jasmine’s arm and she shuttered. “Are there…going to be other couples…like us?” She slowly turned to face Ren, a small smile on his face and he nodded. “There aren’t too many events we can exercise our dynamics in, so it’s nice to relax. You’ll like it, maybe you’ll make a friend!” His smile grew and he perked up, despite his previous exhaustion. Ren had been to a few of these events in the past, both alone and accompanied by other pets. He was always invited, as most of the other attendants have him to thank for their own partners, not to mention the shows he’d put on. Jasmine flashed back to the last time he went out of town. Even though she was excited to go with him, her heart dropped at the idea of him putting on a show. Ren could see the shift in her face, and traced a claw back up her arm. “What’s wrong sweetie? You don’t want to make a friend?” Jasmine held his hand and averted his gaze. “N-no, honey, I just um…are you going to do a show? Like last time?” Ren narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what she was talking about and why she was so upset. When it dawned on him, he laughed and squeezed her hand tight. “Oh, no Pet, not this time. I am providing something, but not a show…well…” Jasmine was relieved, but her heart skipped a beat at his last “well.” “…hm, in the past, other guests have requested I put on an impromptu show. I never liked doing them since I have no time to prepare, but I’d usually say yes if I had enough to drink.” A small smirk stayed on his face as he started thinking about the past shows he put on, but Jasmine let out a nervous laugh. “Hm, you should really thank me for how possessive I am over you.” Ren sat up and wrapped his arms around her. “No one at that party deserves to see you the way I do.” He tilted her head to the side and kissed her neck, making Jasmine softly moan. “No one deserves to smell you, to taste you, to feel you, the way I do.” He bit her, and with a quick shift of his jaw he drew a little blood. His claws poked her sides as Jasmine’s legs rubbed together, and she moaned even louder. She was getting accustomed to the pain, and almost begged him to keep going. “Not now, Darling, we need to focus.”

They stayed up much later than they would have liked going over various costume ideas. Animes, horror movies, and other pop culture crossed their minds, but nothing stuck. Jasmine initially wanted to go as Ghostface and Michael Myers. Ren rejected the idea, wanting her to go in a more submissive and sexy route. She thought of Vampira and Bela Lugosi from Plan 9, but was dismayed when Ren mentioned that was already the host's costume. She shoved the laptop back into Ren’s lap and sighed, now out of ideas. “Ugh, why don’t you just get me a carpet sample bikini and I’ll go as your damn scratching post?” Ren chuckled as he turned his attention to the screen. Jasmine shoved her face into her pillow and Ren scratched her back. Suddenly, he loudly gasped and lightly hit her shoulder. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I know what we’re going as!” Jasmine sat up, tired, but happy that Ren was so happy. He shifted his screen away, preventing her from seeing whatever costume he had picked out. “Nope, sorry, Sweetie, this is going to be a surprise. It’s so perfect, I can’t believe I didn’t think about it at first!” Jasmine smirked. “What? Did you find a Chucky and Tiffany set in our sizes?” Ren scowled at her, but not for long, as he was too excited over buying the perfect costume. He clicked a few keys and set his computer aside, tucked himself in with his pet. “You’re really going to make me wait, huh?” Ren hugged her tighter, saying nothing, but nodding into the crook of her neck.

A few days passed and Ren came home with a package, accompanied by someone Jasmine assumed to be one of his employees. So far she had only met Rhino and Kangaroo, but this person was new to her. “Pet, I’d like you to meet Hyena. Hyena, this is my personal Pet.” ‘Hyena’ was a few inches taller than Ren, with long dark hair, wearing a white apron over a similar tech suit to Ren’s. The lower half of their face was covered with a black cloth mask, and they wore thick black boots. Jasmine eyed them up and down, sticking her hand out to greet them. “Hi Hyena, it’s nice to meet you. Fox…what are they doing here?” She whispered the latter part, a little startled by this new employee’s cold presence. “Hyena’s my hair and makeup specialist, she’ll be getting you ready for the party tonight!” Jasmine hadn’t gotten her hair done since well before meeting with Fox. Previously, she had a dyed purple undercut shaved into the nape of her neck, but now it had grown out to a rather unattractive length. The rest of her curly hair had grown so long, Jasmine tried cutting it herself with kitchen scissors. It worked well, and looked fine, but Fox wasn’t happy she took it into her own hands. That ended in an argument, with Fox demanding obedience, and Jasmine demanding a hairdresser. She reached up to touch the back of her neck, and shook Hyena’s hand. “Then it’s extra nice to meet you! Let’s set up in the bathroom, shall we?” Jasmine and Hyena set up a makeshift hair cutting station in the main bathroom while Fox was opening the costumes in his office. Hyena tied a cape around Jasmine’s neck, and she started explaining how she wanted her hair done. “Alright, so a while ago I had a purple undercut, which I really liked, but I think I wanted to do blue or green next. The rest of my hair is usually in layers too, and-" "Fox already told me what to do, you can stop now.” Jasmine stopped mid sentence, mouth still open and fingers in her hair. “O-oh…okay…” Awkwardly, she sat by the edge of the tub and let her new stylist wash her hair. Hyena had a cold demeanor, and was strategic as she washed Jasmine’s hair. Previously, Jasmine had another sub of hers donate to get her hair and nails done. This was almost like that, so she tried sinking into the familiarity of it. Hyena wasn’t used to her clients talking so much, but Jasmine was persistent. Asking her how her day was, how she liked the job, what she was doing, how well she knew Fox, only to get short, one word responses in return. After washing, she moved onto cutting and shaving. Jasmine’s constant questioning was starting to bug her, so Hyena decided to play with her a bit. “So, Fox said he wanted me to shave it off and bleach what’s left. Not what I would do, but it’s his orders.” She flicked on her clippers and brushed Jasmine’s hair to the side. “Woah!” Jasmine reached up to smack her hand away in protest. “I didn’t-why would he want that? I thought he liked how my hair looked…” She reached up to touch the ends of her long curly hair, already starting to mourn their loss. Hyena nodded, trying her best to hide a malicious smirk. Of course she wouldn’t do it, but it had been a while since she had a pet to play with. “Oh I’m sure he did, but you know how Fox is, he needs every piece to fit into his picture. Right now, that piece is your hair, and it’s my job to make it fit. I think it’s a trend thing, he must have seen some other girl with the style.” Hyena kept a strong poker face as Jasmine clutched the tips of her hair. She was sad, but leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. “If he wants me like that, then fine. I want to make his pieces fit together too.” Hyena broke into a loud laugh, living up to her nickname. Jasmine was surprised and confused, but not for long. “Wait…wait! You’re fucking with me aren’t you?!”

After a short laughing fit from both of them, Hyena explained the actual request Fox had made. Originally, he liked the idea of Jasmine growing out her undercut, but figured the choppy underlayer would look too sloppy. Instead, he instructed Hyena to buzz and dye it orange to match his own hair. It would still be kept as long as a buzzcut could be, but with three slashes shaved closer to the skin to mimic the three cuts she had on her chest. No one was likely to see this detail other than Fox, but he still wanted his Pet to look her best regardless. Jasmine ran her fingers through her new shave and admired the color in the mirror. “It looks great! I want to go show Fox-” Jasmine started towards the bathroom door, but was stopped by her stylist. “Not now, he’s taking care of some business in his office. Besides, we still need to do your nails.” Startled by Hyena’s sudden opposition, Jasmine put her hands up and sat back in her chair. “What does he want for my nails anyways? Let me guess, long red acrylics?” She laughed, but Hyena kept a stoic face. “Not too far off, actually. He wants black stilettos.” Jasmine rolled her eyes and huffed at her. “Of course he does, he can’t ever go for something simple or practical, can he?” Hyena smiled and looked down at her. “No, no he can’t. I’ve dressed and prepped a lot of product while with Fox, and he’s never been a man of subtlety.” Despite the shudder she felt by being called “product”, Jasmine decided to press on. “Really? Well now I need to know, what’s the dumbest or wildest thing he’s had you do?” Hyena looked up at her, puzzled. “Excuse me? ‘Dumbest’?” “Oh come on, he has to have asked you to perform some stupid task, he’s Fox. You should see some of the heels I have, I practically had to relearn how to walk in order to wear them.” Hyena pulled out her nail supplies while Jasmine smiled to herself, but her question made her think. A smile cracked on her face as she remembered what it was like first working with Fox. “One time he asked me to insert extensions in this one brunette who was being shipped off after she was bought. He handed me bright blonde extensions the same length as her hair, and he seriously didn’t see what the issue was.” Jasmine laughed, and Hyena smiled. “Countless times he’s gotten wrong foundation shades, and picked colors that completely clashed with each other. He’s gotten much better, though, thank God. Another time he asked me to put bright orange talons on this poor girl’s feet and at that point I just had to tell him no.” She was laughing to herself, and Jasmine followed. 

Hyena carefully pushed back Jasmine’s cuticles and filed her uneven nails. She was painting on the second coat of polish when Fox walked into the bathroom to greet the two. He was wearing a black satin dress shirt and a pair of techwear pants Jasmine had seen in the back of the closet, assuming it to be his work uniform. “Hello darlings, I-good God that’s strong!” Fox pinched his nose and scrunched his face, off put by the overwhelming scent of nail polish. He flicked on the fan and asked Hyena how things were going. “It’s fine, her hair’s done, her nails are done, all that’s left is makeup and getting dressed…You know, I could take a look at your nails while she does her own makeup.” To Jasmine’s surprise, Fox agreed and looked at his claws. “I’m sorry, what?! You never let me touch them!” He took a step towards her, turning her face towards him with a claw pressed to her lip. “That’s right, Pet, because Hyena knows what she’s doing, and would never try to cut them too short.” He smiled and patted her cheek, Jasmine looked down at her hand under the UV lamp. After her nails were done curing, she swapped places with Fox and did her makeup by the sink. The three gossiped and laughed while finishing up in the bathroom. Fox instructed Jasmine how to do her makeup, making comments and orders, even getting Hyena to roll her eyes a few times. “More blush, darling…Your eyebrows are too thick, thin them up a bit…Do you have any other shade of lipstick?” Jasmine forgave him, as he still seemed on edge, despite the lighthearted nature of their situation. We’re going to a party with his friends, I’m the one who should be nervous about it… Eventually, Jasmine stepped away from the mirror with a black and brown smokey eye, blush, and nude lip gloss, still not knowing what she was supposed to be. 

The three entered the bedroom, and Jasmine saw her costume laid out on the bed. It was a shiny black bodysuit with a sleeveless corseted bodice. The hips came up high, and it came with a pair of sheer tights, the kind with a line up the back. “Fox, I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be…” She turned to face him and it all clicked together. He was tying a dark red velvet robe around himself, which went together nicely with his satin shirt and uniform pants. “Oh you cannot be serious, Fox, come on!” He chuckled, and tied the robe on tight. “Oh I am, Bunny, put on the suit, real slow for me…” He licked his lips and teased her, sure enough there was a little bunny tail on the back of the bodysuit. Bunny slipped out of her leggings and into the tights he provided. Hyena helped with tying the bodice tight, which didn’t leave much of her figure to the imagination. The three big scars on her chest were now on perfect display, and the tights were sheer enough to show her other markings. Her heir was kept down, but she was strapped into a latex playboy-style mask that hid the upper half of her face. She wore a pair of heels Fox had gotten her months ago, shiny seven inch stilettos with a short platform. Fox put on her final accessories, a pair of white cuffs and a collar to match. He stood her in front of the mirror as he strapped them on. Unlike the typical white collars other bunnies would wear, her’s had a small shock device in the back with Fox’s emblem printed on it. Bunny took in the sight of them together. The kinkiest playboy bunny, accompanied by a rather short Hugh Heffner with a snarling metallic mask. They were already an absolute sight, and the night hadn’t even started yet.

Notes: Give it up for yet another OC, Hyena! She was fun to write, and she’ll likely make another appearance later on. Now Jasmine, of course, has her own stupid nickname to protect whatever privacy she has at this event. Who is this mystery client of Ren’s? Who all will be attending this party? Will Jasmine make a friend? All this and more will be answered in the next chapter of Pleasure, Pain, and Power :D

[thaboah]

Bones and flowers!

Part 2: I am dreaming?

(Part 1 // Part 3)

Warnings: Bad language, alcohol, mention of drugs.

I am going to give a somewhat strong background to the reader, I will not make spoilers, but of course this will affect the story a lot.

Summary: Everything it's weird, you don't know what to do, or where to go. Maybe it's not that bad staying there for a while?

I followed that stranger, who had a surprising ability to non-stop talking about how wonderful that place was. He was right, that place was incredible.

I was so distracted seeing absolutely everything that I didn't realize that I had returned to the place where I had originally run from. A chill runs through my entire body and I took a step back. Perhaps it was time to escape from there again. Heimdall turned around and looked at me with a slight smile. I kept backing up until I turned to run and a flock of crows appeared in front of me.

— What the fuck?! — I yelled as I saw an older man with an eyepatch appear out of nowhere. The man seemed like a great sage, but he did not inspire confidence in me. Behind me, Heimdall was kneeling before that old man.

— All-father, the mortal was trying to escape. I have brought her back. — I didn't understand anything, who was that man? He was the father of the stranger? Either I was too bad at math, or the math didn't add up. Heimdall, he was about 25, and to that man it looked like he was going to be buried tomorrow.

The man approached me until he put his hand on my shoulder. To which I moved to the right and moved away, each time everything seemed more absurd.

— You don't have to be afraid, Y/N, you asked us for help. Remember? — The man spoke in a serene tone. I started to shake my head quickly and replied:

— No, I have not asked anyone for help. —

— We will talk about this elsewhere. — He put his hand on my shoulder, but this time when I was about to move away, I was surrounded by a flock of crows. Scared I closed my eyes and when I opened them again I was in some kind of office room.

— You're a witch, Y/N — I couldn't help but laugh at the stupid comment he had said. I believe in magic and all that, but calling me a witch is a bit of an exaggeration.

— I'm not a witch, I don't know what you're talking about. — The man didn't seem like he was so quick to give up, though. — Seriously, I have an exam tomorrow, I have to go home. —

Odin shrugged his arms, as if this were not with him.

— The thing is, you can't go back home. I don't even know how you got here and I don't know how to get you back home.— I felt a twinge in my chest, this couldn't be happening. I have never been an aggressive person, maybe a bit, but I had always opted for the diplomatic route.

I ran over to the desk and grabbed the first sharp thing I saw. I was so scared that I didn't even think about the consequences, I jumped at the man and he didn't even move. Instead someone grabbed my arm hard, it was Heimdall again. I could have sworn that the two of us were alone in that room, something was wrong. In fact everything was wrong.

Heimdall was squeezing my arm very hard, I let out a couple of groans of pain and then the old man came over and said:

— We just need you to give us some information, and in return, I'll help you. — That sounded stupid as fuck, instead of crying, or being angry, I started to laugh.

I breathed hard to calm my nerves, how come I hadn't thought of that before? This place, all of this had to be a nightmare.

— You're even more of an idiot than I thought. — I heard how Heimdall mumbled in my ear, Odin was ordering some papers on his table.

— We'll talk later, now I have work to do. — Odin said, Heimdall let go of my arm and looked at me with a stupid smile, what the hell was wrong with him? I still hadn't had time to do anything to make him hate me and he was already doing it.

— That's all? — I muttered before leaving, getting out wasn't hard, finding a big dining room and grabbing some food wasn't hard either. I had always been told that I had a great cadence when it came to feeling ashamed.

After getting a beer I leaned my back against the wall. If it was a dream it was lasting too long. He had to decide what to do, he didn't know who Odin was, but of course nobody reacts in such a calm way when they try to hit him.

Should I run and not look back? No way, that pigtailed weirdo would drag me back here and say some stupid comment. Help and play along with the old man? God knows what he wanted from me and I didn't feel like finding out. Although how many more laps did he give it, this seemed the only viable solution.

I looked at the ceiling in despair, this was all bullshit, I guess another one for the damn collection. So much thinking had made me finish my beer. Damn, how I needed a drink of something other than beer.

Maybe vodka and a joint, oh shit, what I would have given to have some vodka, I loved vodka, especially the red one, it tasted like a lollipop.

That's when I realized I had one of the worst habits in the world that would come in handy for once. I always sleep with my clothes on, in my jacket there should be something, anything.

I ran to the table and took out everything that was in my pockets, fucking tears came to my eyes. He had a flask, mouthpieces, grass, and a lighter. It almost seemed like the world adored me, despite everything.

I put everything back running, except the flask, I took a good drink and immediately I noticed the taste of the lollipop burning my throat. I practically walked out of there jumping for joy.

It was getting dark, but that didn't stop me from finding the coast, taking off my shoes and feeling the sand on my feet. I sat on the shore, letting my feet soak in the water.

It had been a while since she was this calm. Maybe this place wasn't so bad.

[enchantzz]

Mitchell’s Diary - Autumn Reflections

One-shots in the series of Art & Vampires. Excerpts from Mitchell’s diary.

Words: 1028

Mitchell reflects upon the past and his relationship with New York City.

References to stories in the Art & Vampires series - 1. New Orleans and 6.New York

Art & Vampires is about the relationship and developments around Mitchell, a vampire and Amy (Ames), a human. It’s about the vampire world, the supernatural, but also about history, cities around the world, art, antiques and adventures.

Face claims vampires: Aidan Turner - John Mitchell, Richard Armitage - Rick Marlowe, Jaime Murray - Alana (Lana) Lenoir and Ben Barnes - Ben Sheldon. Humans: Mila Kunis - Amy (Ames) Quinn, Bianca Lawson - Lena Parker (witch).

List of Mitchell’s diary One Shots in the Art & Vampires Master list

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

We went back to New York, just Rick and me. Ames wanted to come, but we told her she couldn’t. That didn’t go over too well, but it was just business, you know and I didn’t want to linger here too long, since I’m not very fond of the place.

But I must admit that it wasn’t as dreadful as I had imagined it to be. I didn’t really want to come back here after what happened to Ames last year, being held hostage by those vile vampires just because of some dark relic. And of course because of the sad memories of the time after I lost my beloved Belle just after the turn of the century, the 19th century that is. I thought that I would be miserable with all those bad memories, but it was actually quite nice. It was just me and Rick again and we actually had a good time.

When we didn’t have to work, we met up with old friends,  we enjoyed good dinners, some theater, art exhibitions and strolls through the park. We reminisced about the past and how everything has changed so much. I mean, I can talk to Ames about it but Rick and I, we lived through those years, you see, and we have seen it change with our own eyes. It’s just different talking about it with him.

But next to the fun times, there was plenty of time to reflect as well. Of course I haven’t forgotten the old days, how could I? New York and I have a history and it wasn’t always good. So much happened here on an emotional level. They say you forget physical pain, but emotional pain will always remain and I agree.

The other day, I took a stroll through Central Park. It’s beautiful this time of year, in autumn, or fall, as they call it here. Autumn sounds so much better in my ears though. It has a certain  warmth to it, I think.  I love the colors and the soft rays of sunlight making their way through the foliage to illuminate the fallen leaves on the ground and making the dew drops sparkle.  

It was early and not too busy yet. I was taking in the fresh autumn air, my mind wandering to memories of old times like I wandered the paths of the park. It was so much different back in the day with all the carriages and horses. But even then, people were escaping the busy city, only to find themselves among everyone else again, but just in the park. In that respect nothing much has changed.  I guess that when you live in a busy city like New York, there is no way of escaping people, really.  

I stopped and took a moment to admire some of the old trees, the same trees who were planted here when the park was created or maybe have been here even longer, like us vampires. They too have seen the world change, from a sparsely populated marsh area with a couple of farms, to this, a rectangle piece of land, boxed in by all these skyscrapers. It’s not less pretty though. I quite like the contrast between the park and the shiny tall buildings surrounding it.

But as I stood there, taking in all the beauty and the relative calm, my mind wandered back to the old days, when we arrived here, after I lost Belle. It was like a switch was flipped in my mind back then. The human in me no longer cared if the beast in me came out and it sure did. 

I remember watching the people gather in this park, observing the crowd, waiting until I found the right victim. I never fed on anyone here though. No, I carefully picked them and followed them back into the city at the end of the day, when darkness fell. There, in the dark and deserted alleys, I would feed until the pain of my memories was reduced enough to feel alive again and I was ready to go home and do it all over again a couple of days later, until finally, Rick, Alana, Ben, they succeeded in quieting the beast in me. It will always be there, but I had it under control, for a while. But I don’t want to go there with my thoughts right now.

Those were very dark times, but experiencing New York like this, relaxed, happy, more human than beast, it healed my feelings about the city. I don’t dislike it as much as I used to and I’m even thinking of taking Ames Christmas shopping here, since she didn’t get a chance last year. She will love that.  

I’m happy that my feelings towards New York have changed. We have a special bond, me and her and I think that there is hope for us. After all, she has been my home in a time when I needed a refuge, a place to heal. And she still is, even though New Orleans feels like my real home now and I will be happy to return there and to my beloved Ames tomorrow. I can’t wait to hold her in my arms again. We have only been apart for one week, but it feels like an eternity. 

PS. I’m debating if going Christmas shopping is really something I would like to do or if it is a strategy to avoid Amy’s cold treatment when I get back. I mean, she made it pretty clear that she was very disappointed that she couldn’t come with us and that is putting it lightly. Maybe I’m just dreading her reaction. I just hope that the gift I bought her and the promise of Christmas shopping will redeem me. I know that I am supposed to be a vicious, scary and strong vampire, but somehow Ames has the power to make me forget all that when she is angry with me. Being human is very complicated sometimes. Or maybe love is. And I don't think that being immortal and living forever will be enough to figure out either one of those.

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[shebeafancyflapjack]

Not gonna tag this but those that know will know what it's about. Fuming rant under the cut.

I fucking hate the take of "those who hate the found family splitting up trope are young people who are scared of change and being apart from their parents/siblings" - shut up! It is so god damn patronising.

I am a 34 year old childfree-by-choice neurodivergent lesbian who moved out on her own three years ago. It was the happiest day of my life because my family is toxic as shit and I wouldn't go back to living with them for anything. I do not fit this image you have made up.

Why do I hate the trope? Because I've lost contact with enough straight friends in my life who have got married and had kids and moved away and it fucking hurts, do I resent them for it? Of course not! Am I happy for them? Yes! Do we keep in touch when we can? Yes but it still hurts. Especially when those of my friends who have kids or boyfriends are more likely to stay in touch and you feel like you don't fit in, or people judge you and say you're not a "grown up" simply because you're a woman who doesn't want children. So whenever I see the "the couple has a child so they have to grow up now and will inevitably let their friendships be pushed aside" happen it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I watch TV shows and read books for ESCAPISM. Most of the shows I'm into are fantasy or have some supernatural elements, so everything else is allowed to go in completely crazy directions, with the writers jumping through all sorts of loops to make things happen, but friends who are like family being separated or losing touch as soon as someone gets married or has a kid HAS to happen because it's "realistic"? Giving us the fantasy of witches and superheroes and ghost families is fine but the idea of found families not being separated forever / most of the time is going too far? Like there's no magical or plot twist you can pull so they can still stay close, they have to part ways because "lol thats just life!" It reminds me so much of the days where Bury Your Gays was everywhere, when it was like "yes you get representation but not a happy ending" - and given found families are usually queer coded or go against the heteronormative narrative it feels connected.

No of course people don't have to live together 24/7 to still be family or best friends but they can live near to each other, or they can go exploring but return to the same home town, they can see each other more than just at Christmas and the odd celebration, they can help be there to raise the inevitable child - like seriously why are we pushing this "two parents have to just focus on their kid together", the closest person I'm to in my family is my sister in law and she LOVED having so many aunts around to help be there for my nieces and loved having time to be something other than a mom now and then! One of my friends who became a mum but I stayed close to loves the moments where we can hang out and, even though I say her kids are always welcome at my place, she likes coming on her own so that she can just enjoy our time together.

Also wanna point out that if you compare found family to nuclear family, and that leaving them is "no different than moving out of your parents house" then you really don't get the found family trope or why people from backgrounds like mine get so attached to it.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Cloud City, Chapter Twelve - a Malevolent AU

You are taking the biggest fucking risk.

“The biggest fucking risk, Hastur, was choosing to trust you after I learned what you did.”

Hastur is silent.

“I still hate you for it,” Arthur says. “But… I trust you. I’m making that choice. And now, I need you to make that choice, too."

AO3 || Masterpost

-------

And south they go, again. It’s deeply weird for the city to be so empty even before they get to the flood zone. Arthur is beyond nervous. He keeps playing with the strap of his bag. He clenches and unclenches his fist. He keeps forgetting to breathe.

Asenath skitters ahead, but not too far—shockingly red in the normal gloom of the city, maybe even glowing a little in the dark of the night. He could almost swear he sees afterimages around her—trails of that red, kissing the air, then evaporating like smoke. Or maybe his remaining eye is just busted, and he’s not seeing anything, really.

Or maybe she’s doing that to ensure he can see.

He wonders if it’s costing her. He wonders if she’s running out of whatever remaining power is here. He wonders…

Arthur? Breathe. You stopped again.

Arthur exhales with a woosh.

This is not good for you. Let’s try this: tell me a story.

“What?” says Arthur. Whatever the witches did, it’s more than just keeping people home. Not a single light shines in any window; there’s not a voice, not a hint of cooking food. For a moment, he wonders if anyone is even conscious.

Hastur reaches across and grips his right wrist. You are old enough—you were here when Dagon’s ritual failed, yes?

Boy, is that turning the clock back. “Yes.”

Tell me about it. How old were you?

Asenath keeps skittering along, heading apparently straight for the sea; it’s still many blocks away.

Fuck it. “I was two.”

What did you know about it?

“Not much, other than it’s the reason I lost my parents.”

You never talk about them.

Arthur swallows. “That’s because they killed themselves. I really don’t like to talk about it.”

I can imagine not, but I’d like to hear about it now.

“Fine. Who else am I ever going to tell?” His throat tightens again. “They weren’t involved with that Dagon mess, but they were among the people who lost everything when it went so wrong.”

Yes… as I recall, a Mass Summoning?

“Yeah. They never work. Summoning one great being into multiple people? It never works. Always goes wrong.”

You sound very sure of that.

“I am. My parents tried it four years later. It’s how they died.”

The bugdog makes a sad, buzzy flutter.

Why would they do such a thing?

Arthur sighs. This section of the city has been abandoned all of Arthur’s life, but it's worse than further north where things are simply boarded up. The windows here are entirely covered with some kind of mold, fuzzy and green. The doors are completely missing, and he knows better than to go anywhere near those openings.

Probably there are no monsters squatting there. But if there are, they’d get him—and ocean-monsters are so much worse than monsters from the Wastes. At least if they’re from the Wastes, they’ll just kill you and eat you. Things from the sea keep you, and though you’re never seen again, it won’t be long until someone with your face and something else’s heritage comes shambling into the city, smiling and smelling of fish.

Asenath has reached the lowest point in the street where an old, ruined sign sits at the crossroads—just a pole and a couple of boards, painted, narrowed at one end to say what and which way.

She takes a moment to let him catch up. Talking, apparently, slowed him down. Or maybe he slowed because he’s just afraid. “Because they were desperate, and we had nothing but debt. I do remember that.”

Tell me.

Arthur sighs. “When that stupid Mass Summon went wrong—one god into fifty-five people? Please—it didn’t just kill them. It did… something to the ocean. But you know that.”

Tell me anyway.

Asenath peers up at him.

“You’re so ugly, you're cute, you know that?”

Flap-flap-flap. She wriggles her rear at him this time, then turns right, heading west along the street, only one block of buildings out of sight of the water.

Hastur waits.

Arthur sighs. “So those people tried their Mass Summon. Fuck if I know why. They failed, and when they did, it’s like the ocean itself got mad at them. It rose… it wasn’t a wave, but just… swallowing, engulfing, taking the city.”

Flap-flap.

“Yeah, I guess you were part of that resistance, weren’t you?” he says to her. “I know the witches saved us; did… something that calmed the sea, that maybe appeased the god behind it, or whatever. The ocean rose up there—” he points back the way they came—“all the way to eighteenth street. When it retreated back down again, not a single living thing was left in any of the buildings. Even the people who’d gotten onto their roofs disappeared.”

Quite horrible.

“Am I wrong? You guys saved us, right?” Arthur says to Asenath.

The bug-dog somehow looks absolutely pleased with itself, then scurries on.

Arthur follows.

And your parents?

“Won’t let that go, huh? Well. they lost everything. Their business was down here somewhere—I have no idea where. I’m not even sure what it was, but I do know that when the waters went back down, they had nothing. They got into debt; whatever they did for a living apparently was so damn specialized they couldn’t start again. Dad tried to get work, and so did mom, but… everyone was struggling to do that. I mean, it threw everything off. Shipping was fucked. We were cut off now by not just the Wastes, but the sea—and it had never exactly been friendly.”

So they chose Summoning to save themselves?

“Neither of them could… manage a Summon on their own, so they talked about it. Planned it out. They were going to dual Summon, then use whatever power they got to pull us out of the hole. Well. Like I said. Those never work.”

And so you were orphaned.

“Yeah. So I was orphaned.” Arthur shrugs. “Had all kinds of plans before that. Even wanted to be a sailor. Crazy, I know.”

Do I hear longing in your voice, Arthur?

Asenath took a left, heading down again down an alley.

“I wanted to see the world,” Arthur admits, following her.

A very dangerous career, Hastur purrs.

Why that pleased him, Arthur has no idea. “Well. Sailing was the best way to do it. See lots of cities and lands. Get out of this place.”

Do you still want to see the world, Arthur?

“I’ll never see the world now, so what does it matter?”

It matters.

“Sure.”

Would you, if you could?

“Hastur, I deserve jack shit. But if I could… I would. I’d go further than I even knew it was possible to go.”

Asenath stops. Ahead of her is a single door at the end of the alley. Unnervingly, the wall isn’t that high; beyond it, Arthur hears the weird, surging shush of sea on shore, and though he knows he’s safe, he shudders at the thought of how close he is to things that could take him.

The bugdog does its whispery, wing-chatter bark.

The door is locked. “Figures,” says Arthur, and picks it. “How the hell is Parker going to find this place?”

Oh, he’ll find you.

“Ominous.” The door opens, and Arthur is briefly dizzied.

It doesn’t open onto the beach. Instead, he’s facing a wide, dust-mote-filled room—high ceilings, distressed wood floors, and brick walls like a warehouse. The only things in here seem to be at the far end by the single, tall window: a long wooden table with a few odds and ends on it, and a tall, gilt-framed mirror.

Why, witch… you do have a black mirror!

A sharp, rude set of flaps.

I certainly am. This simplifies everything.

Chitter-flap.

Hastur laughs, low and wicked. Oh, I think I’ll be doing that no matter how this turns out, don’t you?

Arthur sighs. “Focus.”

Mmm… yes. This is it. Close the door behind us.

Arthur does with a gulp. “Is that where he’s going to come through? Should I lock it?”

Hard to say. We’re on the opposite side of the city now—by the docks, near the Lake. When he comes—and he will come, when he knows where you are—he could choose any number of avenues.

Arthur looks out the window. It’s covered in grimy film, and he can make out no details, but a surprising amount of light still enters; he can clearly see the room, the table, the mirror. The things on the table. “What are those?”

Flap-flap-flap.

Tools. You’re going to have to do some magick.

Arthur reaches up and touches the onyx taper in his earlobe. He’s down to his last protection; his last barrier between Hastur just burning him out, like a used piston. “How did those rings work, anyway? They weren’t attuned to me.”

They were attuned to me.

“To… to you? What did you do, have them on standby?”

They were a gift. You’re getting distracted.

“Sure.” He looks at the mirror, then at the bugdog.

Asenath’s little spirit-bug is looking… faded. If he squints, he can see through her to the boards.

“Oh, no,” says Arthur, breathing fast. “Oh, no! Oh, no!”

Shhh, Arthur, calm down.

“Fuck! She’s dying again! Fuck!”

Arthur, this is a piece. It was never going to last. It’s going to go join the rest of her in the Wood. Calm down, or you’ll waste all the effort she put into leaving this here for you.

Arthur stops as if slapped. “I can’t keep losing people tonight. I can’t.”

Arthur, that—

“I can’t!” Arthur yells it, bending at the waist, putting his whole being into the words.

The bugdog flies up to eye-level. Here, lit by the window, she is definitely see-through, and it’s dizzying to watch her hovering there. Arthur stares.

She licks his nose.

He laughs, or maybe cries, or something else, wiping his face, wiping his eyes. “You sure?”

A whispery, weird bark.

Arthur sniffles and straightens. “Okay, okay. Okay.” He reaches and just rubs the top of her head with his finger.

Are you? says Hastur, sounding very dubious. That’s all it took?

“Can you get that her not suffering matters to me?” says Arthur. “She’s… she’s really all right with this. So I guess I will be, too.”

You poor thing. Yes, indeed, she is.

“Roses on my grave, remember.”

I remember. A low, weird purr in that voice.

Arthur ignores it. “Talk me through this. How do we show Parker where we are?”

Arthur, we don’t have a plan yet.

“I do.”

A pause. Do you.

“I do.”

Well?

“I’m not telling you what it is because he can hear you, and I need you to… react honestly.”

Another pause. So you expect me to be upset. Arthur, that isn’t making me terribly confident in this plan.

“Too bad. That’s all you get.”

Asenath lands. Her wings buzz. And Arthur knows, without a doubt, that she is laughing at Hastur.

Arthur laughs, too. He blows his nose. And then he’s done. There's no more time for self-pity. He's getting what he deserves, after all. “Show me what to do.”

Are you sure?

“Yeah. I had my fucking cry. Let’s get this bastard before he hurts anyone else.”

Hastur’s hand touches his lips again, and Arthur startles. Remarkable.

“Will you stop being weird and tell me what to do?”

As you wish. On the table, you will find a feather, a living frog, three small diamonds, a complete fish skeleton, and a knife.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Arthur mutters, and doesn’t mean that at all.

#

Asenath’s spell works. After it’s all done, and the frog—decorated wildly with diamonds and bones and Arthur’s blood—leaps into the mirror and disappears, Arthur is almost unsurprised to see its dark surface shimmer like a puddle in the rain as it reveals Parker's office.

Parker, on the other hand, looks stunned. He’s staring directly at them; seated at his desk, phone to his ear, dressed for a normal day of work and not murders and rot-gods. On his desk are piles of paper and a couple of boxes of evidence, odds and ends in small bags, and two coffee mugs, one fresh, the other looking unpleasantly old.

Arthur has spent time in that office. He knows its smells, knows the weird little bump in the carpet that makes it a pain to move the chair around, knows exactly how the electric lights sound overhead as they flicker. He’ll never be there again. Of all the things he’s saying goodbye to today, this one, he’s just fine losing.

“What the fuck?” Parker says, standing.

Arthur knows he’s quite the sight. His taper blew out toward the end of the spell; blood patterns that side of his face, and he’s seated on the floor. He can barely move. “Hi, Parker.”

Parker’s mouth is open, but his eyes are active; he’s clearly trying to figure out where Arthur is. “How are you doing this?”

“Favor. Last favor, from Asenath, before you fucking killed her.”

“She struck first, Arthur,” he says.

Arthur doesn’t believe him. “Probably,” he says with a shrug.

“Where the hell are you?”

“That’s why I’m reaching out.” He starts to lift his hand to his ear, seems to think better of it, drops it. “I’m done.”

Parker goes pale. “Done? Are you—fuck, you’re injured. What happened?”

Arthur wishes he could believe that fuck was on his behalf and not some wicked god’s. He sighs slowly. “John knows who killed my daughter.”

“Good?” says Parker, slowly. “Where are you, asshole?”

“He’s known for five fucking years.”

Parker stares.

Arthur, says Hastur. What are you doing?

“The whole time?” says Parker.

“The whole time. Within the first week.”

Parker stops looking at the room and looks at him instead. “You look real fucked up.”

“I am.”

“What happened?” His eyes narrow. “You go to all the trouble of fucking escaping, and here you are, doing whatever this is?”

“I’m done, Parker.”

“You said that,” he says slowly.

Arthur shakes his head. “I’m tired. I… John hurt me. He…” His voice cracks. None of this part has to be faked. “He fucking… I can’t do this.”

Arthur…

“Do what?”

“Let him win. Let him get me. He set some stupid shit up so whoever killed my daughter will get caught no matter what,” Arthur says, “but he still hasn’t told me who it is.”

Parker looks deeply wary. “How… would he have…”

“I don’t know. I was unconscious, okay?”

“Fuck,” says Parker, low. “So he’s really powerful, then.”

“He serves that fucking King in Yellow. The one who made people kill themselves.”

Arthur. Hastur’s tone is warning. I know you have a plan, but this—

Parker has gone so very still. Then he does something Arthur doesn’t expect: he smiles. “That explains a whole hell of a lot.”

“Does it? Great. I’m done.”

“You said that. What do you mean by it?”

“He. Lied. About my daughter’s murderer. Fuck him. I won’t do it. He protects his ass with whatever that setup is, but then he strings me along for five years? No. No.” Arthur’s louder, and his voice is haggard, rough. “He doesn’t get to Harvest me after what he’s done.”

Hastur inhales. Tell me this is the plan, Arthur. This is part of your plan.

Parker’s eyes lid. “Really.”

“I fucking mean it. The one thing that matters to me, the one gods-damned thing, and he….”

Arthur!

“Where. Are. You.”

“You know the warehouses on the strip between the Lake and the Ocean? I’m in one of those. John’s told me a lot of weird things about what you want to do. So has Asenath. I have one question, Parker: if you do it, if I let you do whatever this is… will it hurt him?”

Arthur!

“Will it hurt… your Summon?” says Parker, and he’s not able to hide his delight, he’s already grabbing things from his desk, he’s snatching his jacket. “Oh, yeah. It’ll hurt him. Bad. Especially now that we know who he serves.”

“Fine. Then come get me. I don’t care.”

Arthur! Fucking… Arthur! Will you listen to me?

“Which warehouse?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t… I don’t have the strength to go back down.”

That gets him upset. “Shit. I’m coming. Shit.” Anger flashes over his face. “You better not be fully fucked up. You better not, Arthur.”

Arthur shrugs.

“You can walk? The asshole doesn’t have the rest of your body, right?”

“Just the eye and the hand. I’m just… I’m tired. I haven’t eaten. This magick thing? This favor from Asenath? It took it out of me. I’m not good with magick, you know that.”

“Okay. Okay.” Parker calms a little. “I’m coming. Don’t you fucking move. I’ll find you.” And he leaves.

Arthur finally releases the will keeping that connection open, and falls onto his back with a sigh.

The frog hops back out, shakes off the feather and bones and jewels, and hops off into the gloom. Arthur can’t be bothered to watch.

Arthur, what the fuck was that? He’ll bring backup!

“No, he won’t. There is no backup right now.”

How the hell do you know that?

“Did you see what was on his desk? City map. He had pins where the witch streets were—and  I recognized the colors he was using.”

And?

“Green means under control, problem solved. Yellow means in progress. Red means emergency, not enough officers, or maybe none at all. Guess what, Hastur? All but one witch street was red.” Arthur grins at the ceiling. “Anybody he has is already out there, and I don’t think he’s going to take time to go around picking people up.”

You are taking the biggest fucking risk.

“The biggest fucking risk, Hastur, was choosing to trust you after I learned what you did.”

Hastur is silent.

“I still hate you for it,” Arthur says. “But… I trust you. I’m making that choice. And now, I need you to make that choice, too.”

To trust you.

“This is going to be ugly. Trust me. That’s all.”

Hastur sighs. If this doesn’t work—

“Curtains. I know. I know.”

Asenath toddles over. Her little bug form is almost completely invisible now, only legs, spots, and parts of the face visible. She presses her cold nose to his cheek.

To his surprise, he can touch her, and does, stroking her buggy back for a moment. “I know. You’ve got to go. It’s all right. You’ve done… everything. Thank you. Not just for this. For all of it. Thank you, Asenath. You can rest now.”

She makes a little sound— whispery, oddly sweet—and touches her nose to his cheek one more time. Then she’s gone. Just gone.

He feels the absence. Maybe he’s crazy, and the true loss of someone that special doesn’t really make a difference, but he swears he feels it. The world’s lesser without her. He’s sure. He hopes the stupid goat god (or whatever the Mother is) appreciates what it just gained.

Arthur sighs. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Can you wake me in ten?”

Sure, Arthur. I can do that.

“Trusting you.” And he’s out. He’s out the moment he closes his eyes, and he absolutely does not dream.

(chapter thirteen)