#hopefully that seal thing will finally shut him up

[lokidjarin-7567]

Day 14: Threesome

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x You

Contents: fem!reader x Frank Castle (The Punisher x Matt Murdock , FMM threesome

W/C: 2.4k

So… it’s been a while. I’ve been super busy and I’ve had awful writers block I’m sorry guys, but istg I will get this Kinktober done if it’s the last thing I do. But I made this one nice and long and slutty to make up for it!! I love Frank and Matt and hopefully yall do too <3

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“Fuck.. Frank,” you whined, eyes rolling back into your head with how far inside he was hitting you, how thick he felt.

“What is it, baby, you want me to go harder?” You whimpered in response, desperate for more but not even being able to speak, already winded from his relentless pace. “Go on, baby, let him hear you.” It dawned on you then - he could hear you. Your bedroom was adjoining the guest room where Matt was sleeping, and with his sense, there was no doubt that he could hear everything…

Oh God, he could hear everything…

You did your very best to keep quiet, even as he rubbed you clit, and somehow pressed himself further into you. You even tried to hold you breath, your pants, but even if you somehow managed that, he would still hear your heartbeat, or the filthy noises Frank was making every time his body met yours.

“Let him hear you.” He repeated, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “You hear that, Red.” He spoke with a challenging tone, quiet, sure, but loud enough for Matt to hear, and the thought made you shudder, pussy fluttering around him. “I know you want her too, don’t you? It’s pretty damn obvious…” It was a taunt, blatant and outright, one that you were sure Matt wouldn’t respond to. But then you heard movement in the room next to you. Frank’s finger moved to your lips, sealing them shut with one thick fidget across your cupids bow. He burrowed himself into you, pressing deep and holding himself inside, letting you whine between closed lips. Matt’s footsteps were audible in the next room, even over the blood rushing in your head. He was pacing back and forth. Deliberating. Frank’s finger then left your mouth, trailing down your body to your clit and pressing small circles around it as his cock still filled you. You whimpered, legs shaking as he continued to keep you close to your edge.

“Reddd,” he cooed, desperately trying to goad him with that stupid nickname, ��she’s close…”

Surely he wouldn’t actually join you. Of course, Frank wasn’t exactly wrong. You’d noticed the way his head cocked when you spoke, the way he stood close to you when you were working together, as though guarding you. The way he seemed almost dejected when Frank kissed you, or put his arm around you in protection.

You had noticed it most obviously today. You and Frank had finally found the ring of traffickers you had been tracing for weeks, and of course, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t far behind. It had been happening more frequently - running into each other out in the city - and the first few times, Matt and Frank had tried to out-testosterone each other, as though claiming their territory. It took a while, but eventually, you had helped them see how much better they worked together.

And today was no different. It was a matter of minutes until they were all incapacitated and the police were called, and not the corrupt ones, as Matt assured you consistently. Frank was more of a take-justice-into-your-own-hands kind of vigilante, which you didn’t mind. For the most part, you even agreed with him. ‘Dead men don’t rape’ had been your mantra since you were thirteen. But it was refreshing not always having to spill blood. Well, not as much as usual anyway.

The problem was, Matt had been badly hurt. You hadn’t even noticed until he collapsed onto the tarmac, blood gushing from his side, and a nasty welt blooming on his cheek. You were panicking quickly. He usually didn't show when he got hurt. You’d seen his entire back sliced open and he still managed to fight, but now, he could barely walk, and there was no chance he was making it all the way to his home. You begged Frank to let you bring him to your apartment and patch him up. Matt argued weakly, barely able to form coherent sentences, but Frank quickly caught on to your distress, telling him to stop moaning and that it this happening whether he liked it or not.

The three of you managed to stumble home, practically carrying Matt up the stairs to your lousy place. You settled him on the couch before grabbing the first-aid kit you had made up as soon as you and Frank had started this vigilante… thing - you weren’t even sure what to call it really.

“Sorry…” you muttered quietly, as you tried to ascertain where the blood was coming from. He winced as your fingers grazed over his side. “I can’t see where this…” You were quiet, mumbling as you tried to cover up your awkwardness. You needed to take his suit off, but even if he was bleeding, you didn’t quite feel comfortable just undressing him.

“Let me have a look.” Frank said, placing three glances of whiskey on the table. Matt had gotten your subtle hint and started to unstrap his body armour as Frank settled next to him. It turned out to be a stab wound, along with a nasty gash that stretched down his side, shallower than it initially looked though.

“This is gonna hurt, Red..” he muttered, grabbing the antiseptic and bandages. You sat of the edge of the coffee table, grabbing a wipe to clean the small wound on his face, hoping to provide distraction. As soon as Frank started, he hissed in pain, hand shooting out to your thigh and grabbing hard. You had tried your best not to noticed, but you couldn’t help but glanced down at his bare torso as you continued to carefully blot at the cut on his cheek, watching the way his muscles flexed in pain, and the rise and fall of his chest with each steading breath he took. You blushed lightly as you continued to work, but you could feel Frank glancing at you.

He wasn’t insecure in the slightest. And your relationship was very much an open one - with your histories and professions, it would be stupid not to be. But he had never seen it in real life: the look you usually gave him being aimed towards somebody else.

And now you were here, under his strong body, trying not to climax too early and listening intently for the slightest hint that Matt was going to respond to his taunt.

And then he did. You could hear footsteps quickening, then pausing right outside the door, a soft curse muttered under his breath. You whimpered in disappointment, frustration building as Frank fucked into you hard and his fingers moved faster against your aching core.

“Fuck, Matt, are you coming in or not?” You whined it quietly, cautiously. Just loud enough that he could hear, but just quiet enough that you all had plausible deniability if he changed his mind. Luckily for you, he hadn’t.

The door flew open and he strode to you urgently, pressing his lips against yours with fervor. The first taste of him was overwhelming—something you'd wanted for so long, finally happening, and it was better than you could have hoped. You could only imagine how he felt in that moment, his groan of relief and passion falling into your mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, fingertips running through the soft locks. His hand cupped your chin then traced lower, forming a delicate cage around your neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the sensitive skin there. You whined against his lips, your hips bucking into Frank uncontrollably. He had been watching the two of you with a dark look on his face, buried to the hilt inside you. It suited him. He was possessive but not jealous, protective but not obsessive—a perfect middle ground that he thrived in.

His thrusts deepened, and you let out a yelp at the sudden increase of pressure. Matt smiled. His fingers moved from your neck, trailing down your collarbone and lower until he was circling your nipple. He barely touched you, light as air, yet the sensation was dizzying. He started to increase the pressure until he was ready, and then he pinched, just hard enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your head. Paired with the way Frank was fucking you, his thumb still circling your clit, it wasn't long before you were coming undone. White hot pleasure overwhelmed your senses, muscles locking and shaking under their expert touches. You tried to moan, the guttural sound escaping you, but Matt’s mouth swallowed it.

“That’s it baby…” Frank crooned, still fucking you through it. “Atta girl.”

It was a while before you could breath again, body still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you barely had time to recover before you were being moved. You just about registered when your body hit Frank’s solid form, his arms wrapping around you as he tried to manhandle you into position, whispering sweet instructions in your ear.

“You’ve got another round in you, don’t you gorgeous? That’s it, good girl, on your hands and knees for us… give Red a chance to feel that pretty pussy of yours.” You were exhausted, totally fucked out, but when you felt Matt’s hands slide up the back of your thighs, onto your back and hips, as though trying to commit the very shape of you to his memory, you could feel yourself getting wet again. You nodded, smiling up at Frank through half lidded eyes and settling into position, arching your back for the gorgeous man behind you. You glanced back to see him, now stripped naked, his arms flexing as he gripped your hips tight, a low groan escaping his lips. A hand fell to your chin, pulling your attention back to the man in front of you, thumb smearing across your lips then into your mouth. Reminding you who you belonged to. After all the flirting, the teasing, the fucking… you were his. However non-committal you were, however far away you were, whoever you were with, deep down you knew, you would always fall back into his arms.

A knowing smile flashed across his face. He knew it. As you knelt there, his thumb in your hot mouth, your back arched for another man but your eyes on him, he knew he had you.

And that was why he let Matt sink into you. You moaned around Frank’s thumb as he slowly pressed himself deep, feeling every inch of him as he controlled the pace with his fingers biting into your hips. You tried to buck backwards, to make him speed up, to just fuck you already, but he wouldn't let you, his strength keeping you exactly where he wanted you. When his hips finally met your ass, he let out a low growl, pressing his body to the back of yours, and Frank finally freed your mouth, allowing Matt to gather your hair in his hand and twist your head back to kiss you hungrily. His lips left yours, and you whined, but then the hand in your hair started guiding you down towards Frank’s waiting cock, thick and hard and leaking precum and you realised it had been his hand all along. Frank’s. You shouldn't be surprised. You knew he was always in control, and sex was no different.

As your ready mouth sank down onto his erection, he wasted no time bottoming out, pressing into your throat and letting you gag around him just as Matt started to move, dragging out of you with aching patience, then rutting back in. It only took a few thrusts before he was losing control, and his pace quickened, whines and pants and curses falling from his lips as his hips slapped against you. When Frank finally pulled you off him, you were gasping, but he didn't let you have much of a breather, just enough to ease the burning in your lungs a tiny bit. Tears were pricking in your eyes, but he soothed you with praises and pet names, and you knew you could take it. You would take anything he gave you. He pulled you off again, but this time, not enough to take even a full breath before he pressed himself completely into your throat. You had never taken so much before, nose pressing against the very base of him, and you could taste yourself on him, a realisation that made your cunt flutter around Matt, earning a groan. You swallowed around him, eager to please, and it was enough. He stuttered your name, pressing you just a touch deeper, before he came down your throat, and you swallowed quickly, not wanting to waste a single drop.

He finally released you when he was completely spent, letting your head fall to the bed as you desperately caught your breath. You couldn't relax for long though, as Frank scooped you up once more, shuffling forward as your body was flush with his, head lulling over his shoulder. This position meant Matt was fucking up into you, hitting a spot that made you whimper in pure ecstasy, so good you could do nothing but dig your nails into Frank’s back. He growled, hand trailing down your body to find your clit and gently circle, pressure so light you shouldn’t have felt a thing, but you were already so overstimulated, so pent up, and with the way Matt was reaching that perfect place, you were so close.

“There you go pretty girl… that's it baby come on his cock for me…” Frank’s words were the last thing you needed to push you over the edge and you cried out, pleasure so good it was almost painful, whole body squirming in his arms. Matt’s hips stuttered, and he bit down onto your shoulder to suppress his moan as he came inside you, hands still firmly gripping your hips and grinding into you.

Your mind was hazy when you were finally finished, completely melted in Frank’s arms, Matt’s cock still inside you.

“This isn't going to become a habit now, pretty boy. Don't get it twisted. It was only because you got stabbed.” Matt just chuckled, his body collapsing into yours and you felt his cheek against your shoulder, hot breath fanning across your upper arm.

“It was worth it.”

[maxiemclaren]

hiii!! i love your writing, and do you think you could do one where american!reader and logan gang up on reader, but then logan "accidentally" reveals reader's crush on oscar? tysmmm <33

The Backfire

Pairing - Best Friend Logan x American!Reader x Crush!Oscar

Warnings - Fluff

Summary - Logan and y/n play pranks on their friend Oscar all the time, until one prank backfires and secrets get spilled…

a/n - Let’s get it. Also don’t ask questions about the half-assed pranks.

The three of you have been best friends for years, it’s no surprise really, after all you’ve been racing against each other since F4, growing up in a racing community surrounded by teens; pranks are not a rarity. From small things like changing the color of someone's shampoo to making a sponge look like a brownie and giving it to Oscar after a race win.

Fast forward to the present day where you are all in F1. You couldn’t really understand why it upset you so much when Oscar started to ignore you after played a harmless little prank on him, like you’ve been doing for years. So what does any rational person do? They go to their best friend and bombarded them with questions. Barging your way into Logan’s driver’s room, you bang on the door until he finally answers. “Yes y/n? To what do I owe the pleasure?” he says in a posh voice. “Cut the crap Logan, I need to figure something out and I need your help” you say voice teetering on edge. He moves aside and lets you in the room, where you both sit on the couch and try to figure out what’s going on.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me Logan, it’s like all of a sudden after the prank he started being dry and blunt towards me. And normally I’d just brush it off but this time it just feels different? Like my heart hurts.” You breathe out. Logan just sits there like your own personal therapist, listening to you basically confess that you have different feelings towards Oscar now. “I get like tingles when he walks by or looks at me” you state as you notice Logan starting to drift off, “LOGAN WAKE UP!” you yell. He just looks over to you and says “I know what’s wrong y/n” desperate for an answer you gesture with your hands for him to get on with it.

“You my dearest friend, have a crush on Oscar” He lightly teases. “I most certainly do-my god maybe I do, please don’t tell him!” you begged Logan. He pretended to zip his lips shut and threw you the imaginary key, like he previously just did with Oscar moments before you came in.

Oscar and Logan

“Mate I can’t even talk to her anymore, it’s like I’m scared I’ll say something stupid and she’ll want nothing to do with me. You have to promise me you won’t say anything” Oscar begged his best friend. “Oscar, would I honestly do that to you? Hell the two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for years. You have my word, lips are sealed” Logan stated simply.

The both of you were trying to figure out a way of getting Oscar to talk to you again, you decide that maybe Logan needs to pull a prank on Oscar in hopes that he will complain to you about the shared American. Which all leads up to this master prank that you two Americans were up to, something you and Logan both missed about home was the firework shows that would be on display for the Fourth of July. Since you can’t just set off fireworks because you were pretty sure that it was illegal, you decided on a glitter box. The whole idea of the box was that you would disguise it like a gift from Logan, and put it in his driver’s room and wait for him to open it after the race, then poof glitter everywhere.

In hindsight sending in Logan was probably not the best idea, seeing as the two of them were still on good terms and can get distracted and lose track of time. So here you were, waiting for Logan and hopefully Oscar in your driver’s room. You start to grow bored and decide to shut your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, something major was just shared to someone special.

Logan placed the glitter box in Oscar’s driver’s room, and attempted to sneak out but was unsuccessful. “What are you doing here?” Oscar says with his hands on his hips. Logan whipped his head around so fast he thought he had given himself whiplash. Stuttering out some lame excuse about leaving a gift for his best friend. Oscar not believing it for one second gave him two options, the first one being tell him what he was really doing here or open the box to prove that it indeed is just a gift and not a prank.

Logan knowing what would happen if he opened the box, and knowing what would potentially happen if he told the truth, he decided to do the right thing. “Ok ok I confess, y/n and I decided to pull a prank on you with a glitter box, because she wants you to talk to her and she’s sad that you are ignoring her” he manages to spill out. “There’s more to that Logan, you and I both know it, she wouldn’t just be upset if I didn’t text her because we are busy” Oscar said knowingly. “Uh, I, god, she’s going to murder me” Oscar just looked at him to continue. “She might, maybe, most definitely has a crush on you. She told me like 10 mins after you left the other day”. Oscar, too stunned to speak, just left and practically sprinted to your driver’s room. 

You wake up to someone calling your phone, and someone banging at your door? Seeing you have 10 missed calls and 7 texts from Logan, you immediately open the door thinking Logan would be standing there. Instead, you were met with a face you knew and missed all too well, “Osc- Oscar, what are you doing here?” you say shocked. “Is it true y/n? Please tell me what Logan said is true’’ he panted out because he ran all the way from McLaren to Williams. “What’s true? What are you on about?” you say seriously confused. “That you like me too, and like more than just a friend. Because let me tell you, it’s been killing me for years to not be able to say anything to you about it” Oscar pleaded. Torn between what you feel from wanting to strangle your fellow American, to wanting to just kiss Oscar, you decide to grab Oscar’s hands and hold them while you tell him the truth “Yes, it’s true Oscar”. Happy with the confession he picks you up in a hug and says “Well I guess I need to take this pretty girl out on a date hm?” You blush at the compliment. “I suppose so Piastri” you giggle. “About damn time, you two,” says Logan from behind Oscar. You shoot daggers at him and then he backs off, “So tomorrow at 7pm?” Oscar asks you, to which you nod “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you say and then peck his cheek.

[vixen-tech]

if you want to -- maybe AUTO with a botanist reader? i just think it'd be so interesting how it would play out !! u dont have to, so only do it if u want to!!

🩹 anon

To be Loved, To Maybe be Changed (Auto x Botanist!Reader)

Oh that certainly is a concept!! It's a great one for Auto to, this put an entire storyline in my head that I think justifies breaking out the oneshot format rather than headcanons. Which works out great because I think out of all the Ai's I've written for, he would need the most 'set up' from how not-sentient he's protrayed in Wall-E. Anyways grab a snack floks this is a long one

It had been many generations since the Axium returned home to earth. Humans, robots, and the all important plant finding themselves back on soil, populating the deserted planet once more.

Things have changed since then. The human body began readapting to earth's gravity, the majority of buildings around the landing site have been fixed up and inhabited, and most importantly: the city is covered in plants. Grasses sprout between broken walkways, invy weaves its way up repurposed skyscrapers, gardens spill out of every available alleyway, a gaint tree stands where that first plant took root all those centuries ago. Each year it seems the sky gets a little more blue.

The ever diversifying flora had captivated you ever since you first had the words to describe it. As soon as you had a say so, you began studying it. Dispite the flourishing growth, any sort of plant husbandry was still something of a lost art. You lived off of the ancient manuals and beginners guides that eventually made their way out of the Axium's archives.

Yet even those could only do so much for you when most of the crops that had evolved from that first seedling had taken forms a far cry from their original pre space-age forefathers. It became your life's mission to learn how to best take care of these new cultivars and of course, spread the knowledge (and hopefully passion) for botany that you had gained throughout your life.

That was what fueled your visits to the Axium. Still parked at the foot of that monumental tree, it had been transformed into something of a community center. With most of its facilities still running and new services offered everyday. You often came to drop off your experimental findings, teach classes, and check to see if other botanists had done the same. Why you began exploring the depths of the halls that one fateful day, you still don't know.

The spaceship was massive, clearly a crowning jewel of its time. To this day many rooms remained unused and largely blocked off. The bustle and warmth of public spaces giving way to dust and insect nests as you roam through areas no longer needed. Bathrooms too far from the people to warrant upkeep, storage rooms that were once filled with replacement parts for the robots that now walked side by side with humans. And at the end of your journey, the captain's quarters.

The door was practically sealed shut with age, and the room behind it was hardly any better. The air attacked you with a cloud of dust once you finally managed to shove open the door, and no matter how much you rubbed your eyes there still appeared to be an almost foggy looking quality to the room.

That's when you found Auto.

He was still dangling from the ceiling above a control panel you doubt still worked. You had seen and befriended many robots before, they were just as common as humans in the city nowadays with remarkably little tension between them. Recognizing that the innert steering wheel in front of you was once one, your heart ached. You were no mechanic, but surely you had to at least try to get him up and running again. What can you say, you were always a bit of a bleeding heart.

After carefully detaching him from the ceiling you carried what was essentially an inanimate hunk of metal all the way back home with you. People stared, sure, but they kept any questions or judgments to themselves as you made your way home.

Your residence was rustic, to say the least. A fairly rundown shack renovated into a makeshift greenhouse. Produce and flowering plants alike overflowed from their neat rows of pots on benches. Some were for you, more were to sell, all were part of research in one way or another.

You loved walking through your own little botanical garden to get to your living quarters. The moment you pass through the front doors you're always hit with a wave of earthy freshness. The smell of petrichor and pollen greeted you (and your new... friend?) just as it always did. Never once failing to make you feel at home.

Your living quarters themselves were similarly homey. Not drastically bigger than a hotel room, it's a modest living area with a kitchen tucked in the corner and two doors along the wall. One leading to a compact bathroom, the other your bedroom. Some may call it cramped, but to you it's cozy. You spent most of your time in the greenhouse anyway.

That might have been the only day you mourned your lack of space. As if he were a friend you had to drag home after a night of drinking, you placed Auto on the couch. Promising to yourself that you'd do your best to fix him up. You'd probably have to give him some wheels to, since you ripped him from the ship. Well, your life could always use some more excitement.

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

Your knowledge of machinery had definitely improved over the past few weeks. On all accounts you were extraordinarily lucky that he was in such good shape. Age had rendered most of his circuits unusable, but isolation kept them from becoming unrecognizable. Night after night you would come home with a new part and with surgical delicacy, swap it out for its damaged counterpart.

You had heard stories from the time of the Axium. You knew of the 'evil autopilot program that tried to trap humanity in space'. You knew that you were probably trying to fix said evil autopilot program. It may have been the weeks of one sided bonding, but you didn't buy it. Surely at worst he was just following orders. And who knows, maybe with some free will he might be able to turn over a new leaf.

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

"What happened?" His voice was striking, deep and inhumanly regular in a way that was still seen a trademark of artificial speech. He was upright on the wheeled body you attached him to, the red eye (camera?) at the center of his face seemed to scan you up and down before doing the same to the room around him.

The cocktail of pride and anxiety had yet to leave your chest. You attempted to explain, "Well I fixed you-"

"Before that." He interrupted. Slowly wheeling himself to the living room window, still unsure of the new addition you had made to his body. "Where are we?" He added.

You should have been prepared for that one. "We're on earth, in my house." You watched with apprehension as he stared out the window. The steering wheel that made his outer body clicked back and forth as if he were swaying in thought.

"Earth is habitable." His voice lacked strong inflection, you were unsure if he was asking you a question or stating the fact to himself.

"It has been for a long time." You said as gently as you possibly could. "You were... on that ship for centuries, a lot has changed since then."

If he was listening to you, he made no effort to show it. Instead continuing to look outside as if he were zoning out in thought. "There are plants", he observed.

The view out that window wasn't remarkable by any means. Just some grass and a few odd trees before the city's skyscrapers blocked your line of sight. But the mere mention of plants was always enough to get you excited. "Oh if you're interested in plants you should see this." Gesturing for him to follow you as you opened the door to your greenhouse.

He paused for a moment before trailing behind you.

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

Auto made for a strange guest. With no astro-cruise to run he spent a considerable amount of time staring at you while you worked. It was only as you were measuring the pH of your plants' soil that you began narrating your work to him. It started as a way for you to simply diffuse the tension and explain why you were so invested in the vegetation.

He made for a good wall to rant to. You didn't have many close friends and certainly none as into botany as you, most other botanists spent as much time with their garden as you do. But thankfully, no matter how much you asked if you were being annoying, he would repeat that "The information is important, please continue." All while focused on whatever orchid you made the subject of your newest lecture. You did make it clear that he was free to leave at any time.

He never did.

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

Your first trip to the Axium since Auto's reactivation was an awkward one, at least on your part. When you announced that you needed to go to drop off your latest batch of research he requested to could come with, one of the first things he asked of you since waking up.

Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Auto had barely took a step outside your home. Relying instead on you and whatever books or documentaries you had to fill him in on what the world had become. Who were you to deny him some fresh air?

Although you had grown much more comfortable around him you were still anxious to hear what he thought of everything. And as always his judgment came in the form of definite reports. It was all "Humanity is stable." Or "Plant life is flourishing." If he had any semblance of opinion, he didn't tell you about it.

He didn't behave much differently on the Axium, continuing to trail you like a lost duckling and thoroughly scan the surroundings. It wasn't until you met up with a fellow herbalist that he spoke a word.

They asked you about a specific project you were working on, a new crossbreed of a medicinal herb of particular interest to them. However, as it wasn't the purpose of your trip you didn't have any of its records on you. You were about to apologize and tell them so until Auto informed them, "The crossbreed has shown accelerated growth but a greater sensitivity to sunlight." The herbalist thanked both of you and walked off.

Even though you shouldn't have been shocked to learn that he was actually storing the information you spat at him, it was still nice to know that he cared to some degree.

"Thank you, Auto."

"You're welcome."

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

The days have gone on much the same since then. You had never sought out an adventurous life. Often you go out the greenhouse in the morning and find Auto observing the various moths and flies that had evolved as pollinators alongside the new flora. "Morning Auto!" You would cheerfully greet.

You never fully understood why he stayed, but it didn't matter to you at this point. He was here and he made no effort to go. You had more than enough room in your life for him anyway.

"Good morning."

And so another day starts.

[taybatwo2]

Spelldon Monster High Custom

Once I saw that G3 Deuce had green skin, I knew I had to try my hand at making Spelldon Cauldronello. I re-haired him and flocked the sides of his head with yarn to imitate dreads. I sewed him a jacket, shirt, joggers, and socks. I made his little potions (out of beads), earrings (also out of beads), necklaces, gloves, pointed ears (I wish I could have gotten them smoother, but they were so delicate that I could not sand them without them breaking), shoes (out of paperboard and papier-mâché), and repainted his face (my first full face repaint and daaang was that difficult to try and make his eyes and eyebrows look related to one another).

He’s not perfect, but he was super fun to pose and creating him was a HUGE learning experience (like to start sealing all of my thread knots with fabric glue).

You’re more than welcome to draw fanart/make your own based on mine, just tag me- I’d love to see them. Feel free to comment what you like/dislike think I should improve on. :)

Edit: thank you for all the sweet comments in the reblogs guys. You’re all making my day. :)

More under the cut

Close ups of his left side (I like how this ear turned out the best).

And his right side. I couldn’t get this side smoothed out to save my life, haha. Hopefully his earrings distract enough from it. Keeping beads from old bracelets come in handy! These were just the right size for him. I repainted the lower earring in black, with a stripe of purple, and added silver Ancient Greek designs on either side.

One more close up of his left ear and earring (I added a purple pentagram in the center of the silver Greek designs and the color shift sparkle paint around the rim). His upper earring is the same as his right lower earring, but has an orange stripe.

His face-up took awhile, but it is very rewarding to finally give him a face. I tried to make it look like the factory g1 monster high face up and took a lot of inspiration from his older sister Casta’s pupils. I gave him darker purple eyes, with the yellow/gold zig-zags. I gave him three moles, instead of just the one that Casta has, to mix it up a little. I did take a little inspiration from G3 for his eyebrows to add some orange and purple streaks in the front and a cut in his left eyebrow (I don’t know if that is still trendy, but I think it looks cool). The eyebrows are still not super symmetrical, but I already sealed it. I went back and forth on what I wanted his lip colors to be (I know I wanted something two toned) but finally decided on a dark purple upper lip, with a green outlined lower lip.

Also G3 heads are SUPER difficult to try and reattach (and remove) and have to be VERY squishy to put back on their bodies (even after I had trimmed down the neck peg).

Okay, onto his wardrobe! I wanted to imitate Casta’s color pallet: black, orange, purple, silver (and sparkles and studs), while bringing in more “witchy” themes (the buckles, stripe socks, and pentagrams), and his scaritage from his mama Circe (hence the potions, boars on his shirt and shoes, the greek vase designs and the boar designs being black on orange -like the Ancient Greek vases). Even on the Greek designs, I put some teeny tiny pentagrams (namely on his jacket sand socks).

His jacket took the longest (his shoes were the second longest). It is fully lined (the sleeves have a white lining to keep staining to a minimum), and working pockets. I liked the sparkly material I found, but does it shed like crazy (I used it for his collar, cuffs, pockets, and the bottom of his jacket in the back, and wrong side-out for his sleeves -they still have silver sparkles showing though and it doesn’t shed…but it will catch on things). I used thin ribbon for the outside of his pockets (next time I will fabric glue the ends shut on all my ribbons and a thicker ribbon for the bottom of his coat), and bent some wire into buckles. I also used ribbon wire and looped black thread over it to make it look like a zipper. I used fabric paint for the pattern down the front and REALLY hope it stays on there.

I really wanted a mesh back to his coat (I love how that part turned out), and then added this purple sparkly ribbon to his sleeves. He was going to have another pentagram in the back but it was too much (but it left a cool shadow of the star after I removed it).

His gloves are made of mesh and ribbon (with glitter fabric glue continuously added on top of each other, and then painted silver, to make the spikes on his knuckles -same thing I did with his choker and shoes). His nails are painted black with the same color flash glaze paint as part of his earrings.

Okay onto his main outfit without the coat (he’s much more fun and easier to pose without his jacket).

“Spelldon, please move your necklace out of the way, so we can see your shirt better, thank you.”

Close up of his wild boar and Greek vase designs on his shirt (done in fabric paint). I REALLY love how the boar turned out as I was SUPER nervous I was going to mess it up. Having a boar/Greek vase design on an orange shirt was also inspired by @spookberry ‘s design of Spelldon. His necklace pendant was another bead I had (and it worked great for attacking thread too).

Side and back of his outfit (you can see some of that stray black glitter).

“‘Scuse me Spelldon, can you lift your shirt so we can see you joggers better? Thank you.” His joggers/capri’s and socks were inspired by @peppapigvevo ‘s Spelldon design. Once again I used ribbon, that sparkly material for his waistband and cuffs, and silver fabric paint for Greek vase design.

I attached a chain to his joggers and added these potion bottles (while Casta looks like she uses more magic spells and incantations through her singing, I like to think Spelldon uses potions -more like his mom). I made these potions out of wire, beads, thread and air-dry clay.

Onto his shoes and socks. I made the shoes out of paperboard and paper-maché. I wanted them to be boar themed while still having pentagrams and studs on them. They turned out a bit wonky (and a tad too long -but it helps him stand up, haha), but I spent too much time on them to redo them, haha. His shoe sole I also painted with that sparkle flash glaze paint too. I also gave him the striped socks, because I love striped socks and tights on witches.

“Thanks for holding still Spelldon, and being patient with me.” I’m going to make another post or two with comparisons with his sister, some of my other customs, and some vampire that claims he knows him or something, heehee.

Oh yeah! My sketches for him:

[24hlevi]

fluff prompt 1 "there it is, there's that smile." with shoko from jjk with a reader that's like kenshi Takahashi

ah thank you so much for requesting this! 🫶

how did you know i love kenshi?? i didnt know if you wanted reader to be blind like him or not so i didn't, sorry!

— SMILE

shoko ieiri (jujutsu kaisen) x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: fluff prompt ("there it is, there's that smile") from my 2.5k event

warnings: post!shibuya arc

after the events of shibuya with gojo being sealed, nanami being killed, and many others being critically injured, it was difficult for shoko to get a break or even a simple moment to relax. that was, until you showed up in her little workplace.

you knocked on the wall a couple of times to show your presence, and shoko lightly jumped, turning around to see you standing there.

"hello, y/n," she said, and evident tiredness in her voice as she spoke.

"how are you doing?" you asked, walking towards her.

shoko shrugged. "as well as i can be for my friends dying or being sealed in one night."

you hummed, nodding your head and stopping in front of her. "be honest with me, ieiri."

she let out a short sigh. "let's go outside, i don't think i can stay in here any longer."

"okay," you nodded again, following her outside.

as soon as you two reached the fresh air outside, shoko pulled out a cigarette and lighter, lighting it and immediately taking a drag from it.

"i thought you quit," you said.

"old habits die hard," she responded, taking another drag from it. "you should understand that."

"i do," you nodded, leaning against the railing. "i apologize for not being able to see you much during all of this happening. it's been rough on all of us but, technically we're the last two standing excluding yaga."

shoko hummed with a nod, tapping the cigarette to ash it over the railing. "i mean, there's still him," she said.

you knew who she was speaking of. geto, of course. but, you had a feeling he wasn't the same as he was when you all were students. he didn't seem to be the same guy you knew back then. "i guess you're right," you said. "but, he's not the same."

"i know," shoko sighed, resting her head on the palm of her unoccupied hand. "i don't know what to do anymore. i was barely able to help maki, but everyone else is..." her voice trailed off as she looked at the ground.

"hey," you placed a hand on her shoulder. "you're doing the most you can. none of us expected it to go this way. but, you need to take a break. you're going to overwork yourself and it will be detrimental to you."

"i'll be alright," shoko replied, taking a drag from the cigarette and ashing it again. "it's nothing new at this point."

you were silent for a moment before looking down at her. "how about we go out to eat tonight? just the two of us," you suggested.

"what?" she finally looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"c'mon, you need a break, ieiri. let me take you out to dinner," you smile a small smile at her.

"are you really asking me out right now?" she asked, ashing the cigarette one last time and tossing it over the railing.

"would that be a bad thing?" you retorted, your smile growing. "you can always say no, it won't hurt my feelings."

"as long as you pay, i'd really like to go," she answered, a smile forming on her face.

"there it is, there's that smile," you say, smiling down at her.

"shut up," she gently shoved you.

"don't be like that, ieiri," you chuckled lightly. "i will gladly pay for whatever you want."

"even more sanity?" shoko joked.

"even more sanity," you nodded. "lord knows we all need some more of that."

"you're lucky you're cute," she mumbled, shaking her head.

"so then you'll let me pick you up around eight?" you asked hopefully.

"sure," shoko nodded. "a minute late and i'm not going, though."

"oh my, so scary," you put your hand on your chest in fake fear. "i won't be late though, don't worry."

"you better not be."

[random-introverted-blog]

Across Stars and Time [Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader]

Spawn vs Ascended oh my gawd

Edit: Due to incredibly popular demand on AO3 (again) this story has been converted to a full story called His Star - His Queen. It's being cross posted between here and AO3

Read His Star - His Queen on AO3

Read His Star - His Queen on Tumblr

Intended Audience: Mature [Merely a suggestion, like speed limits, right?]

Who be smoochin?: Astarion x F!Reader

The Bit: At long last, Astarion will be free of his master and you will be his most enthusiastic cheerleader as he ends Cazador, once and for all. So you think until you find an Imposter Astarion that waits in the center of the room for you. Cazador tortured and dying at his feet. And your Astarion, to his horror, faces the true cost of his ascension. You.

Warnings/Advisories: ANGST, no happy ending (though it ends on a brighter/hopeful note), major character death (not either Astarion, that would be too easy on both of them), references of past SA, references of suicide, a reference of sucidal ideation, violence, injuries, yandere doing yandere things, obsessive and possessive behavior, your boyfriend is getting the shit kicked out of him, your "husband" who is the same man from another universe is kicking the shit out of himself, "HERE COMES ASCENDANT ASTARION WITH THE STEEL CHAIR FROM THE TOP ROPE", is it time magic or jumping across realities, "SPAWN ASTARION WITH THE SUPLEX"

Words, all the word (count): a whopping 5,390

Writing art and breaking hearts in 3...2...1

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Save it for when I'm standing over Cazador's bloody corpse." Astarion had said when he stopped you from kissing him today.

And that was fine, sure, you really wanted to, but you could understand he was not in the head-space to be affectionate with you. It didn't change how he felt, or how you felt, so what did it matter? You could wait your whole life for his kisses and embraces and still die happy, so long as it was a life shared with him. There was nothing you wanted more than Astarion, baggage and all. No matter how unsure and self conscious he was about what he believed he lacked or couldn't give you. You crossed your fingers that it would be enough he would decide against completing the ritual. It would change him, that you knew without a doubt. And you were nervous it wouldn't be a change for the better.

You loved him for him, as much as you were afraid to use those exact words, and you had seen plenty of times what immense power does to people... your heart clenched thinking of that happening to him.

Nights nuzzled into his chest, legs tangled together, fingers in your hair. The safest and warmest you've ever felt was being in his cold arms. These were some of your best memories in the few you still held from your past life. And you made sure he knew he didn't even need to do any of that, the cuddles and kisses, to have your love. It was unconditional. It always would be.

You couldn't wait to stand with him as he finally ended this chapter of his life and turned the page, and his eyes toward a brighter future. Hopefully, if he wished it... it would include you.

But something was wrong. There wasn't a single servant to be seen in the whole place. You found the signet ring left on the floor in front of the sealed door and Astarion chalked it all up to Cazador paving the way for his "homecoming party". It didn't sit right with you, and you had tried to express as much to him but it just made him snap at you. After all, he spent two hundred years as a slave to the vampire lord. Who were you to question what he did and didn't know?

After that, you had kept your mouth shut. It hurt, but you had already forgiven his bad mood. You understood he was going through a lot, anxiety eating him from the inside out. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and did your best to keep your perceptive eyes peeled for any clues. Your gut instinct was right. When you found the elevator to the crypt, you had silently hoped it would ease your own troubled thoughts, your paranoia, but truth be told; it made it worse.

You looked among your companions to gauge if they perhaps felt the same. As rare as it was to see them all together on a mission, Astarion had earned their friendship just as much as you had, and not a one turned down the chance to deliver a long overdue beat down on Cazador Szarr.

But the only thing you registered on their faces was a determination for violence. Glad as you were, you were just as eager, of course, but that did little to soothe your nerves. It wasn't uncertainty, like Astarion's, much as he tried to mask it. No, something felt... changed. Unbalanced. Your tadpole, maybe? No, it was quiet as a babe. Your urges? No, your bhaalspawn blood, despite feeling a mite antsy, was relatively subdued.

As you crossed the crypt on the way toward the two large, ancient doors, a voice called out to Astarion. He stopped, glanced at you and turned slowly toward the cell. Expression impassive but footsteps cautious, until his eyes widened. "Sebastian??" He gasped, taking one step back.

"What are you doing out here?" The spawn asked, clinging to the bars. "You're supposed to be in there!" The man jabbed a finger toward the door.

Drawing your brows together, you glanced at the doors behind you, and you started to drift toward it. Screams caught your ears from within. Muffled, but sharper as you moved closer. A hand on your shoulder, and you found Gale, Halsin and Shadowheart at your back while Astarion was distracted with the spawn. Tempted as you were to stay, he seemed to be really distraught. Something was undeniably wrong now. Why were they so convinced he had already come through here?

Those screams were unlike anything you had ever heard, sounds of terror and agony that sent shivers down your spine. You had heard and seen a lot in your travels, you all had. But nothing quite like the sounds coming from beyond these doors.

Halsin took the lead and pushed the doors open, you close behind, Shadowheart and Gale took the rear behind you.

You were startled when the doors slammed shut behind Shadowheart, and the four of you looked among yourselves, searching for an answer for the other. When all you received were questioning stares, your eyes wandered to the center of the chamber and you descended the long stone staircase. Lining the platform, hovering above red sigils, were Astarion's siblings. Veils of darkness covered their faces, whatever it was doing, the source of their twisted symphony for relief.

Dead center of the platform, a figure in top-grade studded leather armor hunched over someone on their hands and knees. Hands visibly trembling against the floor, drenched in sweat.

As if sensing your presence, the figure tossed something from their right hand, a blade skidding across the floor, their now free hand raised in the air and snapped their long fingers. Instant silence fell over the ritual chamber. "Ah, there you are..." a voice greeted in a low, familiar purr. "I've been waiting..." they continued, slowly straightening to full height, presenting you the equally... hauntingly familiar white curly haired back of their head. "Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." Looking over their shoulder before at last, turning to face you. "Waiting... to have you."

"What kind of sick magic is this? An identity spell?" Gale questioned, as confused and audibly disturbed as the rest of you. Bewildered at this seemingly perfect copy of Astarion. No... something was off. You just couldn't put your finger on it. It wasn't anything on a physical level, as far as you could tell. He wasn't wearing the same armor, though. Like you noted earlier, this was top grade studded leather armor, dyed a midnight black and dark red. Yours was wearing the set of Spidersilk armor you had pried from the dead drow woman back at the Emerald Grove.

"Cazador, if you think hiding behind his face is going to stop me from peeling yours from your bones, allow me to let you down now." You glared, readying your weapon and assuming your stance. The others followed your lead, as always.

But the Mimic chuckled, a soft, airy sound too like Astarion for it to be a mimic. "He won't be able to answer you, my dear" they chuckled, tone filled with amusement. "He's long swallowed his own tongue." You watched the deep crimson cloak sway behind them as they circled around the trembling man, turning him over their black boot. The man fell onto his back, and you assumed the dark-haired elven man, face swollen, bloody and almost too distorted to be recognized as a face, was all that remained of Cazador.

He gasped and wheezed, and the mimic used their foot to force Cazador's head up to face you, providing you a better look. Sure as they said, there was no tongue... or fangs, either. Only two gaps in the top row of teeth where they should be.

Unceremoniously, they dropped his head to the floor, and you realize the mimic hasn't actually taken their eyes off you since they circled around Cazador. "I am a man of considerable patience, but even I grew bored idling about, waiting for him to bring you to me, my treasure."

"A shapeshifter." You blurted out as the thought crossed your mind. "Really, an imposter of my lover? I'm almost flattered, dear sister" a mocking grin splitting your lips, hand tight around your weapon, magic crackling at your fingertips, waiting to be unleashed should they make a move against you.

The imposter raised their eyebrows before meeting your grin with their own. "No, darling. I'm more Me than that... creature you've been putting up with."

"What in the nine hells are you then?" you bite impatiently, tired of this back and forth. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. That you couldn't figure it out was wearing on you.

Behind you, the doors burst open, but neither of you looked away from your standoff to see. Footsteps rushing down the stairs, "y/n!" Astarion called after you, coming to an audible skidding stop at the scene before him.

"I'm the man you love, pet." The Imposter responded, as if the rest of your team didn't just rush in, as if the real Astarion wasn't joining your side, daggers drawn. "I'm the man who in another life you denied, using a disintegrate scroll on yourself to reject everything I gave you. The man who has crossed the stars and time itself to return you to his side." They took a step toward you but you held your ground, ignoring every impulse to turn heel and bolt the other way as they partly lifted their hands from their side. "I am High Lord Astarion Ancunín. Vampire Ascendant." Smirking from ear to ear in a way that was undeniably Astarion. From the glance you spare at your Astarion, he seemed just as stunned, confused... worried.

Still, you searched him for it: deception, doubt, a half truth, anything and your heart sunk further, the more you found to only prove his point. To your horror, this was Astarion. Somehow, as he said, crossed the barriers of your realities to be here.

Ascendant... This is what Astarion would become if he completed the ritual.

You searched his eyes, for what you couldn't say for sure, something to reject this, reject him. Something that would wake you from this nightmare. His eyes were cold, dark with malice, lacking any of the warmth you felt when you stared into your Astarion's, they were commanding, all-consuming.

Your body stiffened, rigid. You couldn't look away.

"There..." The Ascendant sighs, almost dreamily, "come here to me, my treasure..." Extending his arms wide, inviting you into them, and you feel every muscle in your body acting on its own.

Panic nearly takes your senses. "No, I can't..." you force the words out before your throat tightens and your tongue stills.

But that's all he needs to hear to understand. Astarion's arm wraps around your waist as your feet move, pulling you into his arms instead. With a mind of its own, your body thrashes and squirms against him as if desperately trying to heed the Ascendants' command, but he doesn't let go. "Easy, darling, I've got you..." He murmurs in your ear, not unlike the nights he's comforted you, tied up and writhing on your bedroll. "I won't let him... I won't..." you detect the softest of tremors in his voice while you struggle to regain control of your limbs.

Behind you, you listen to your friends scrambling to form a protective line between both of you and the Ascendant. "I don't know what damnable creature you are," Wyll says from somewhere in the line, "but I know my friend Astarion, and that's enough reason for me to drive my blade through your putrid heart."

"What you are is an abomination." Halsin speaks right after him, "part of understanding and appreciating the artistry of life is understanding the role death plays in nature's beauty. But frankly... I cannot imagine any reason for your existence." He concludes with a harsh glare at the Ascendant.

Who merely lifts an eyebrow. "How imbecilic." He says impassively, glancing among your six friends. Suddenly his eyes glow and mist red, and with a wave of his hand the very shadows at their backs surge to life.

Halsin's shadow is upon him with a viciousness you've only seen in rabid animals, shredding him to ribbons before he even turns to face the monster.

Lae'zel holds her own well enough before hers takes her to the ground. Though it seems grim, she appears to be regaining the upper hand quickly.

Gale whips around and reaches to grab Wyll and cast Dimension Door, but his own shadow counterspells him and blasts him with a ray of frost so hard it sends him hurtling through the air.

The Ascendant watches the wizard sail past him with a barely suppressed humor to his features. "Oh, dear..." He mutters just loud enough to be heard, "not going quite the way you expected, is it?" He mutters, raising his hand to examine his nails. Only appearing mildly interested in the chaos unfolding in front of him.

Wyll dispatches his shadow, only to watch Karlach overwhelmed by hers, and he shouts in horror. Barely reaching her in time to block the downswing aimed for her chest.

"And how about you druid—Oh, dear..." he gasps, a feigned expression of shock flitting across his face, moving that same hand to his mouth, a wicked smile barely concealed behind his splayed fingers. You shiver at the sadistic delight dancing shamelessly in his eyes while he gawks at the sight of Halsin, savaged and lifeless, face down in a pool of his own blood. "You always had that coming, you dimwitted oaf. The first time too..." He huffs, straightening his posture and holding his head up as he leers down at the body with blatant disdain. "And you know what they say about your own worst enemy...." As he glances among your friends, one by one struggling and fending for themselves.

Astarion tugs at your arm when your body stills against his. "We need to go, now!" he hurries, dragging you behind him.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs before you pull your arm free. "We're just going to leave them?!" you ask incredulously, raising your voice, gesturing and looking behind you.

Shadowheart thoroughly thrashes her dark copy with impressive efficiency, diverting her energy now to the Ascendant. The familiar chant falls from her lips as she begins to cast Turn Undead. Vanishing in a blur of crimson mist, he reappears in front of her, and she successfully gets the spell off a mere second later.

But he stood there, unfazed. Flashing a wicked grin, he confidently takes hold of Shadowhearts' hands, lifting them up and then abruptly wrenching them in opposing directions, sending an uneasy wave through your body. She cries out in agony, and the Ascendant allows her to collapse to her knees before he callously brushes her aside with his boot, treating her as though she were nothing more than a worn-out toy.

Astarion takes your arm again, returning your attention to him and desperate urgency flashes over his features. "You don't understand. I know what he wants, and I won't let him—"

Just as he turns around for the stairs, a flash of red mist. "Tut-tut." The Ascendant scolds, clearly unimpressed, scowling at Astarion as the very shadows of the room gather around his hands.

Reacting faster than your vampire, you swiftly shove yourself between the two Astarions, acting on instinct.

Pain ripples through you unlike anything you've felt before, like a hammer of fire and ice that makes your blood boil and freeze all at once. The blast launches you back into Astarion hard enough to send you hurtling through the air, past Gale casting another spell.

Your body slams into the unforgiving coldness of the stone platform, causing a sharp intake of breath and a loud grunt of pain involuntarily slips past your lips. The force of the impact propels you into a chaotic, disorienting tumble, your cheek scraping the rough texture of the floor as you skid to a halt.

Despite the pain on your face, you dug deep and pushed on your arms, your body trembling slightly as you managed to roll onto your back. Vision hazy and unfocused. What in the sweet hells kind of magic was that?

Where's...?

Straining your eyes, you see Gale rushing toward you before ominous black chains materialized from the floor and curled around his arms and legs, forcefully dragging him to his knees. Instinctively reaching for the wizard but your thoughts and concerns quickly shift elsewhere at the sound of your name. Tilting your head backwards, your heart almost settles at the sight of your pale elf scrambling to his feet toward you, "Astarion!" you call back, mustering your strength again in an attempt to get back on your feet.

And as quickly as you felt some sense of relief at the sight of him, your heart sinks violently at the tendril, the whip of dark magic that coils tightly around his body and flings him backward, away from you. With his rogueish reflexes, he quickly gathers his feet under him and lunges for his attacker. Fiercely, you struggle to your knees, desperate to help him.

The Ascendant effortlessly extends his arm, gathering at his legs, "even vermin must kneel before a god," he sneers, snapping his arm back to his side, sending a grunting, growling Astarion down with it, knees slamming to the ground. A fury to his stride "you were always worthless, sniveling..." raising his boot and pressing it harshly onto your vampire's shoulder, "groveling." Pushing him harshly down onto his hands.

Lightning flies from behind you, a quick glance reveals Gale had managed to get the spell off, and the Ascendant winces at the unexpected attack, stumbling off of Astarion. Who doesn't waste the opportunity and tackles his full weight into him. It doesn't do more than throw the Ascendant somewhat off balance as the two wrestle for the upper hand. "Bluster all you want, but I see what you really are! A lost, empty, miserable creature! Trying to fill a hole in your heart that all the power in the world will never sate!" Astarion snarls with his fangs on full display.

With a shove, the Ascendant puts distance between him and Astarion. His eyes glow red again and he grabs Astarion by the throat, lifting him into the air like a rag-doll. A familiar hand touches your shoulder and you're about to turn and thank Gale when the Ascendant's head snaps in your direction. The chains, which never fully released Gale, tighten around his arms and legs but begin to pull slowly in opposite directions. Then he opens his hand, his palm flat and level with the ground. Darkness swirling from the room and around his fingers like moths to a flame, and he steadily curls them back into his hand as it simmers a soft, red glow.

Blobs of shadow ooze from the floor and take the shape of monsters, soldiers, ghouls... One dozen, then two. Far more than you know your friends and you can fend off on your own. "Wait!" You shout before you can fully think of why you're doing so, rising to your feet at last, despite the way your legs ache and demand you don't.

Eerily, it all comes to a stop. All of it. And though the Ascendant pauses a long while, even he flings Astarion carelessly behind him before he slowly turns to you. "Apologies, my treasure... I got carried away." He says calmly, watching you cautiously circle around him.

You hesitantly look around the room. From Cazador's body, to Halsin's mangled and brutalized and the six spawn still muzzled with dark magic... "why are you doing all this?" is all you can ask in a barely audible whisper.

"You." He answers, so simple yet with such reverence. "For you, for us, I have dominated this city, compelled it to kneel before you, reduced it to little more than your personal footstool for your amusement." His eyes were distant with fond memories, and evidently clueless to the horror in your eyes. "I made you my queen, and I sat you beside me on a throne befitting of one, one that embodied your grace and beauty." You watched his eyes gaze upward, still deep in his recollections.

"The sight of you seated beside me never failed to make my heart swell with pride and fill me with contentment, like a melody playing in my soul." The words tumbling out, as if he'd been holding them in for centuries, bringing a hand to rest flat against the chest of his armor, over his heart.

"Hundreds of servants who kissed the ground you blessed with your every step as you tread the halls of our palace... and still, you rejected me." The Ascendant growls, taking a step toward you that has you quickly reeling backward, away from him. "After everything I taught you, all the delights of obedience, slow as you were to learn them... Countless nights spent coaxing your body to submission to me with nothing but pleasure. And you. Still—"

"No wonder I fucking killed myself." You spat, cutting him off before he could make you vomit... gods, how your stomach churned... "By the hells," you muttered, a look of disgust on your face. "What made you think I'd ever want that? The Astarion I know, my Astarion, would never... He knows me. Sees me." Gesturing behind you, and on cue, you felt his hand brush yours. "Did you?" The words sounding like a soft plea on behalf of your Other Self. A life, by what he described, you loathed.

The Ascendant regards you, his face impassive and impossible to read and all you could hope - pray for, was that your words were getting through. Even if he may not be your Astarion, it still pained you to see him like this. Amazed you he didn't look any different in the physical sense...

But then you watched his piercing scarlet eyes swirl back, full of malice, the twisted obsession of a love now corrupted, a chilling fury smoldering in his gaze as it consumed you. Commanding.

He grinned as your limbs once again went rigid. "Yes. I do." Casually raising his hand, this time you can only helplessly watch as another burst of foul magic slams into Astarion behind you, "now be a good girl, stop struggling and come to me."

In an instant, you berated yourself for your own stupidity to fall for this again, as your body stiffly, though slowly, moved forward. Behind you, chaos erupted as the creatures summoned by the Ascendant swarmed upon your friends. To your relief, you hear them fighting, possibly even holding them off, but that just meant you were on your own against... this.

Straining with all your will, you tore your gaze away from his eyes and fixated on the center of his chest. Though it had no effect on the command already imposed on your unwilling body, it felt less forceful. You grimaced, wriggling your fingers as you fought to regain any semblance of control from him. You never told Astarion you love him, you have to tell him, and you need to beat this if you ever want to...

With a fierce growl, your arms at last heed your demands, allowing you to swiftly reach for the dagger holstered at your side. However, you misjudged the distance between you two and realize too late you're within his grasp, and he quickly seizes your wrists, forcefully pulling you towards him. "Gods, I've missed you, my love..." The Ascendant's warm breath caressed your ear, his grip strong and possessive. Tight and suffocating.

Warm... He's...

With precision, he extends his hand towards your face, gently leading it to meet his own. The moment your lips touch, a searing heat spreads through your body, intensified by the graze of his fangs against your lip. As if anticipating your resistance, his other hand swiftly clasps the back of your head, holding you in place. Preventing any thought you may have had about breaking away before he's done.

It freezes you at first. The similarity, yet stark difference, of his lips hits you like a sudden gust of wind. It's a complete contrast to the cold you've grown accustomed to and sincerely enjoy from your Astarion.

How similar, but utterly different, his lips are. They radiate warmth, as do his hands and breath. It's a complete contrast to the cold you've grown accustomed to and sincerely enjoy from your Astarion. The smell of the Ascendant, rosemary and bergamot, differs from yours, though, with his comes a tinge of a frosty winter evening. Against every sense in your mind, screaming at you to stop him, fight this, your heart races with a sickening blend of fear and want.

Still, you fought, barely resisting the intense urge to kiss him back. This wasn't your Astarion. Yours was... calling out to you, and you could barely hear him. Could barely hear anything other than the Ascendants' breaths and mouth moving on yours, as if tempting you to sync with the kiss before he silently gives up and barely separates from you. "Come with me, my dark consort." He practically purrs, his lips brushing yours. "Faerûn waits eagerly for the return of its queen..."

The realization dawns on you, and your gut clenches in anticipation of what is about to unfold. You make one final, desperate attempt to wrench yourself free. Sights and sounds beyond the Ascendant return to you. Prying your arms free, you push against his chest.

Gods above, you don't want to live the nightmare he just described for yourself.

He sighs at your struggling and tsk's, "it seems I truly will have to teach you, and your body, all over again... And here I was hoping I could have the chain removed from the bottom of your throne..." murmuring softly, words dripping with disappointment, like the steady fall of rain.

Did your other self have a spare scroll handy...?

You writhe in his arms, twisting away in your attempt to untangle yourself from his grasp and slip down to the floor, knowing that attacking him with your hands will be useless and unable to grab your dagger in this position. You focus all your energy on trying to escape.

Across the floor, your eyes meet Astarion's. Your Astarion. Fighting viciously through wave after wave of monsters, unable to make any ground toward you. A shared desperation in your eyes, even as a sinister red glow slowly surrounds you. You never told him... you need to tell him...

Damn this. Damn him. "I love you, Astarion." You choke back the sob threatening to spill out, praying to whatever god is listening that he at least hears you say it.

For better or worse, his eyes gloss, "I'll find you, my love, I swear..."

Red swirls blind you.

And you're gone.

‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐

The moment you disappear, so does the small horde of creatures. Astarion shakily crosses the floor until he reaches the spot where they stood. Where He took you.

He collapses.

And he screams.

Screams until his throat is raw. Screams ugly, heart wrenching sobs that stung the ears like knives, with the power to move even the most callous heart with pity.

Today was supposed to be the start of his new life. One he dreamed of for two centuries, that he would share with you. Cazador lay dead beside him, so it was still possible, but what use was this freedom when he felt emptier than he's ever felt in his entire existence, living and undead? While within reach, it offered no solace. He would be alone. Again.

Astarion swore he would find you, but how would he? Would he have to ascend? Seize that power and ascend as well? Could Shadowheart bring back Cazador, just to use and spend him, so that Astarion could save you?

The way he... the Ascendant looked at you... It was vile. Utterly devoted to you, yet possessed by obsession. A gnarled, grotesque, and barely recognizable idea of his own love for you. The things he would do to force you to... love him. While wearing his face.

The terror that if he ascended here and now, that he could become that bastard...

Not even the tadpole, the Absolute mattered to him anymore. Not when he faced life without you, the only person to see him, to love him... For him.

He truly meant it. Not everyone had a heart like you. No one was like you. He would never find another love like what he feels for you.

Why didn't he just kiss you this morning when he had the chance...?

An odd, dense mist formed in front of him, and Astarion reluctantly watched it. Hells, the last thing he needs is... whatever this is.

"This simply cannot be permitted." Said a soft-spoken voice as an elven woman emerged from within. Her eyes scanning over the scene. She wore a light grey robe and a symbol around her neck shaped like a golden, dawning sun with five half crescents like spokes of a wheel. Her hair was long and bright, eyes a pale blue.

She knelt in front of Astarion, her fingers brushing what he is only now seeing. Dark, simmering runes that form a circle around where He stood, where He took you. "Are you keen to uphold your promise?" She asked without looking up at him.

Astarion blinked, but he refused to hesitate. "If you have a way to help me save her, talk quickly." He replies impatiently.

The woman slowly rose to her feet and Astarion, though his knees trembled slightly, rose to join her. "Save may be too strong a word. Her suffering is inevitable now, and it will be plentiful in supply." A small frown flickered across her features. If she noticed the anguish that those words caused him, she paid no mind. "But we may yet return her here, where she belongs. Where she's needed." She says calmly. "But it cannot be so without you."

"What part of 'talk quickly' do you not understand? Are they not words you comprehend? Tell me what you need and I'll do it."

"Patience, little vampling." The woman soothes, unperturbed by his temper. "This timeline must sleep before her disappearance can affect it. In turn, your parasite will sleep, just as hers has already." She explains patiently, as another figure, a small Elven man with a journal and quill in hand, emerges from the mist and joins her side. He kneels down and begins studying the runes, drawing them on the parchment. "It will not be simple or easy. The Ascendants' power has risen to heights we haven't seen in other timelines. But he cannot continue his rise unchallenged." She continues with a small shake of her head.

Astarion moved to take a step toward her, only for the man to catch his foot gently, holding it back from covering one of the runes. "Tell me what you need from me, and I will give it." He says back firmly, a growl edging his tone.

The woman nodded. "Come with me. We have much to discuss." She gestures slowly with one hand behind her, toward the mist.

He's about to start toward it with little hesitation, before he stops and looks back. Karlach kneeling beside Halsin's mangled remains, Wyll's hand on her shoulder. Gale and Lae'zel were on either side of Shadowheart, who was nursing her broken hands.

She gives a nod, committed to this just as much as he was. "Get her back. And thrash the bastard for me." The cleric encourages with a weary but determined smile.

With a nod and a silent promise, he turns back to the woman and now the man, their presence looming at the edge of the mist, and he strides resolutely forward to enter it alongside them.

"I love you, Astarion." His heart shattering all over again remembering the tremble in your voice.

Astarion swore he would find you.

And this time he would say it back.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: Sorry, I just didn't have the heart to end it on a note of "oh no Spawn Astarion is just fucked now I guess".

This had been an idea on and off, but was inspired to go for it when I saw it prompted during my regular tumblr scroll. I have written, and rewritten and written it again, over and over, and this is the culmination of endless suffering. So... Thanks for reading this far! Hope you liked it!

EDIT: this is intended as a one-shot. There is no planned continuation. The ending is written to provide an alternate, a sense of hope, if you, the reader is unhappy with the "bad end". You can decide for yourself if Astarion is successful at finding you, if he survives a second confrontation, the consequences of it all, etc.

Of course, I have plenty of ideas for how I'd continue it but I have no serious interest to at the moment. I might write it privately for myself if I do, but it depends how much people care about this.

[aalissy]

Emma, Louis, Hugo

Whoohoo!! Welcome to the end of Adrienette April for this year!! I really hope you enjoy this lil ending chapter <3. Also, please feel free to join me tomorrow as I begin Marichat May :)

AO3

Adrien and Marinette sat on the balcony of their cozy Parisian apartment, sipping on hot cocoa as they watched the city lights twinkle in the distance. The soft glow of the moon bathed them in a warm embrace, casting a serene ambiance around them. They finally got to take a brief moment of rest as their kids were inside, sleeping for what would hopefully be the rest of the night.

Marinette sighed contentedly, leaning her head on Adrien's shoulder. "I dreamed about times like this, you know," she mused, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. “Us and the three kids. I had their names picked out since middle school and everything.”

Adrien wrapped an arm around Marinette, gazing into her eyes with affection. "And what beautiful names they are," he said, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "You know, I’d still give everything to go and tell younger you that someday you’d end up married to me. And that we’d use those names you picked out and everything. I’d just love to see you blush and stammer again."

She shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes at him even as her lips twitched with amusement. “And I’d love to go tell middle school you that he’d end up married to Ladybug. I’m sure he’d turn just as red if not redder.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and Adrien threw his head back in a loud laugh. “You know, you’re probably right,” he managed to say after his laughter subsided.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they sipped on their hot cocoa. They looked out at the beautiful, twinkling stars, listening to the sounds of the streets of Paris that came from below them. It was peaceful. A wonderful, warm night.

Marinette eventually broke the silence by giggling, her eyes twinkling with fond memories. "Remember when Emma turned our living room into an art studio, and we found paint on everything, including Plagg?"

Adrien chuckled, nodding in agreement. "How could I forget? Plagg wouldn’t shut up about that incident for weeks. He forced me to buy him boxes and boxes of camembert to make up for it." His voice turned more nasally as he attempted to do an impression of the kwami. “Gods are not meant to be purple, Adrien. Tell your offspring to paint the canvas. Not me.”

Marinette snorted. “Yes, I do remember that! Tikki was positively delighted by Plagg’s little color change. She laughed at him every chance she got. Between you and me, I think she even tried to get little Emma to do it again.”

“My lips are sealed,” Adrien said, making a gesture of zipping his lips shut.

"And what about sweet Louis?" Marinette continued with a playful glint in her eyes. "Our little explorer who once convinced us to go on a 'treasure hunt' in the park, only to find a collection of shiny rocks and leaves."

Adrien laughed, shaking his head fondly at the memory. "He's got my adventurous spirit, that's for sure. And adorable, baby Hugo has always been fascinated by the simplest things in nature. I love how he finds beauty in everything around him."

"He gets that from you too, Adrien," Marinette remarked, a soft smile on her face. "You've always had a way of seeing the beauty in the world."

“Then little Emma definitely inherited your artistic talent.” He grinned back at her.

“Of course she did!” she said proudly, lifting up her chin. “Who do you think also grew up painting the walls in my parents’ home?”

As they reminisced about their children's antics and milestones, their hearts swelled with gratitude for the family they had created together. Adrien squeezed Marinette's hand gently, his gaze filled with love. "I'm so grateful that we managed to find each other and make a family. Every day is a wonderful adventure with all of you."

Marinette leaned in, pecking a kiss on his cheek. "Me too, Adrien. Our family is everything to me. I wouldn't have it any other way."

They sat together in another companionable silence, basking in the warmth of their affection and the knowledge that their home was filled with the laughter and love of Emma, Louis, and Hugo. As the night grew deeper, they knew that their bond as a family would only continue to grow stronger with each passing day.

[mal-urameshi]

Jealous Shuri or Riri

I gotchu covered.

Warnings: Angst, baby!!!! Let's goooo!!!

“You’re absolutely beautiful. When you smile at me, sometimes I feel like I’m about to pass out. Your intelligence is very admirable. There is nobody else like you and I hope you know that. Your kindness enhances your aura, Riri. Your selflessness knows no bounds and I can’t help but compare myself to you. How can I be great like her? I find myself asking. Because she’s perfect in every way possible. Sorry about the rambling. What I wrote in this envelope is more concise, but I had to tell you how I feel. I really like you, Riri. More than anybody else. Will you go out with me?”

Riri awkwardly stood in front of the boy as he laid his heart bare to her. She tried to maintain eye-contact with him throughout his confession out of respect, but she couldn’t help her facial expressions. Bast, hopefully they didn’t come across as rude.

Honestly, when he called her to a secluded part of the school after the last bell rang, where it would be just the two of them, she was half-expecting him to bribe her to do his homework or something since he mentioned he was having a hard time in passing. But a love confession was completely off her radar.

The boy, Sipho, had an optimistic countenance as he had a purple envelope in hand, sealed with a yellow heart-shaped sticker. Along with the envelope, he had a bouquet of Lily of the Nile, and a small gift basket that contained, from what Riri could see, chocolate and some cookies.

Bast. Riri felt like absolute shit about what she was about to do. Sipho was a nice boy. He wasn’t ugly or anything. He was well-mannered and funny. He just….wasn’t her type. 

“Sipho, look. I appreciate the thought you put into this. Because just looking at all of this,” She gestured to everything he was holding, “You put a lot of heart into it. You really did your thing.”

Riri screwed her eyes shut, feeling like complete and utter crap.

“But I like girls. So it won’t ever work out. I’m sorry.”

Sipho visibly deflated, “Only girls? Not both girls and guys?”

Riri silently shook her head, “Sorry, Sipho. You’re a really nice dude. You’d make a really good boyfriend for a really lucky girl. The girl just ain’t me.”

Sipho silently nodded, “I understand.” He walked up to Riri and handed her the gifts.

“Wait, no, no. I just rejected you. I can’t accept this stuff.”

Sipho shook his head, “No, I insist. They were intended for you anyway. So take it. I’m not angry or anything, don’t worry.” He gave a sullen smile.

Riri silently nodded her head, “Thanks. I’m sure the cookies are nice.”

“Yea. My Umama’s secret recipe. But I gotta go now. Take care, Riri.” Sipho said before he walked off.

Riri looked at the gift basket full of snacks; she could share these with Shuri! 

Riri kneeled down to place the stuff in her bag. The envelope caught her attention. Curious, she ripped it open, but before she could read its contents, her beads pinged. Riri dropped the card in her bag and zipped it up.

“Hey, Shuri!” She smiled and stood back up.

“Hi, Riri! Are you still coming over?”

“For sure! I just got caught up with something.”

“Okay, great! The meeting got canceled so you can come straight here.”

“Alright, no biggie. I’ll be at the Citadel in a bit.”

When Riri arrived, Shuri was already at the entrance waiting for her.

“Yo!” Riri greeted.

“Finally! We talked like…almost half an hour ago. What took you so long?” Shuri fell into step with Riri as she walked down the hall.

“I was enjoying the views. Talking to people here and there. Hugging trees. Just enjoying existence, you know?”

Shuri nodded, “Are you adopting the ways of the hippy now?”

“Uh, no. Never.” She laughed.

They both found themselves in Shuri’s room. Riri had immediately gone to the mini-fridge to get herself and Shuri something to drink. Riri flopped herself on a vacant beanbag while sipping on a juice pouch and Shuri hung over her bed, doing the same.

“I have this assignment that’s due for Miss Anagonye. I mean, I already started it and it’s almost done, but ugh, that lady is so picky. I had to change it up like 4 different times because she kept adding shit to the outline. I swear, why doesn’t the school make her retire?”

Shuri sucked on her pouch, “Maybe it is because she is such a legend, having made a lot of contributions to the modern…moderner? Advancements of Wakanda. Plus you know how elders are, always picky with everything.”

“That lady is a dinosaur regardless. She’s probably as old as your ancestor, Bashenga. She’s practically stardust.” Riri snickered.

“You’re so bad, Riri. Academia is her calling.”

“Nah, a grave is calling her.” Riri dodged a pillow that was hurled her way by Shuri.

“Anywaaaaay, what did you do today?”

Shuri sucked on her juice, “I was excited for most of the day because I had my presentations ready for the improvements to the design group. And T’Challa was giving me affirmations and encouragement that I am most definitely ready to take on full responsibility for research and technological advancements of Wakanda.”

Shuri blew a raspberry, “But it was pushed back because the elders wanted to have a council meeting again with my Father, Mother, and T’Challa to make sure that a child is ready to fill such big shoes.”

“Man, this is why old people are still teaching at the school, bruh. Those oldheads just dunno when to let go. I think it’s cuz they ain’t got no purpose in life after they retire. Like yo…you ain’t gotta worry bout making ends meet regardless. What’s the big deal? Us young people are super capable. But again, just cuz they old and have some wisdom they think they know everything.”

“You just have it out for the elders today, eh?” Shuri laughed.

“I’m telling you. I’m gonna do a dance for joy when Miss Anagonye retires.” She sipped from her juice.

“But don’t worry, Shuri. You’re gonna be head of the Design Group and anything else. T’Challa will sweet talk those salty codgers with that honeyed tongue of his. You’re smarter than anybody else they have lined up for the job. They’ll see straight. They have no choice.”

Shuri kicked her feet in the air with a grin, “Thanks Riri. I needed that. Anything else interesting happened at school today?”

Riri shook her head before she occupied herself with turning on Shuri’s gaming system and rifled through the available titles, “Oh right,” She mumbled absentmindedly as she scrolled, “I brought some snacks. It’s in my bag.”

Shuri rolled off the bed, walked over to Riri’s backpack and opened it. She spotted the gift basket full of snacks and took it out, but noticed a card fall open along with it.

Not being able to help herself when she picked it up, her eyes scanned the words.

Riri,

Your eyes remind me so much of the Earth,

Beautifully rich and full of life paired with a laugh that bubbles with mirth.

You move with such grace and elegance

Paired with a mind that harbors unmatched intelligence.

Your smile lights up a room with its brilliance

Coupled with a mindset that embodies resilience

Your heart is kind and pure and gentle

In your presence I can’t help but be sentimental. 

You make my heart skip more than one beat

These feelings I harbor- I cannot retreat. 

Whether returned in full or never at all

Just know that I love you

No matter the chances how small.

Love, Sipho.

Shuri’s grip on the card tightened as she read through the love confession. She looked at the gift basket that had a tag on it. She flipped it and say that it said ‘To: Riri. Love Sipho.’ This Sipho boy even dotted the ‘i’s’ with hearts.

She looked at the basket and then at the card and then over at Riri who was preoccupied with the game. Did Riri accept his confession? She clearly had to since she had his card and snacks. So this Sipho boy was now her boyfriend? Her eyes caught the bouquet of the Lily of the Nile as well.

Shuri ground her teeth and angrily zipped back up Riri’s bag and shoved it back in the corner.

“Yo, easy on the merchandise.” Riri called after Shuri, though her eyes never left the screen.

Shuri walked over to Riri and borderline threw the basket of snacks into her lap before flopping on the bed. Shuri knew she was behaving outrageous. Riri could have a boyfriend if she so pleased. But she thought she liked girls? Why the sudden switch now? Bast, this was annoying.

A boy?!

Riri paused the game and looked over at Shuri, “Yo, what’s your problem? You didn’t have to throw it at me like that.”

Shuri closed her eyes to roll them, “It’s nothing. Play your stupid game.”

Ugh! Shuri hated how she couldn’t rid herself of the irritation in her voice. Was she too slow to say something? But if she said something, it might ruin the friendship. Dammit!

“Nah, it’s definitely something with you being all pissy like that. Talk. You know I don’t play that shit. If you have something to say, say it.” Riri cracked her knuckle to stave off her irritation. Because what the fuck? One minute Shuri was cool and now she did a complete 180.

Shuri rolled over on the bed with her back to Riri, “I said it’s nothing.”

“I will get the fuck up out your place right now if you don’t tell me what’s up, Shuri. Cuz I’m feeling like shit right now. You always do this crap. I always have to pry you open like a damn clam for you to talk about certain shit. I’m getting tired of it.”

Shuri sat up on the bed and looked over at Riri, “I didn’t think we’d be keeping secrets from each other.”

“Secret? What the hell are you talking about?” Riri shook her head, was Shuri going off the deep end now?

“I ask you about your day and you fail to tell me you have a boyfriend now? You wanted me to find the snacks he gave you and everything as a present? That love confession of a poem? Flowers!” Shuri had to keep her tone in check because Bast, she would never forgive herself if her voice broke. 

“I thought you liked girls, anyway?” She mumbled as she cast her eyes downward.

Riri rubbed her head, “Oh my God. I won’t lie. I was tryna forget that happened, okay?”

Shuri didn’t bother with replying.

Riri walked over and joined Shuri on the bed while busting open the clear wrapping of the basket, “I ain’t got no boyfriend. Sipho had a crush on me. And he confessed earlier today. But I did in fact turn him down and let him know it’ll never happen cuz I’m for the girls.”

Shuri looked at the basket and then at Riri, “Then why did you keep his card where he professed his love to you?”

“You read that?” Riri side-eyed her.

“Yea. It fell out of the bag. Why did you keep it anyway if you rejected him? You don’t have to lie-”

“Lie?” Riri stood up, “What do you mean lie? I ain’t lyin’ bout shit. I just told you I rejected him!”

“Then why are you hoarding his love letters?” Shuri angrily pointed at the bag on the floor.

“Why are you going through my shit? I didn’t even read what he said in that letter.”

“You knew it was a confession! Obviously it had his feelings in it, genius!”

“Back the hell up, why are you so mad right now? And putting my sexuality into question? You wrong for that.” Riri paced and took a deep breath. She just wanted to chill from school. Not deal with this bullshit.

“Why didn’t you just throw it away with his other presents if you like girls so much? If you don’t like him, why keep it? It seems you’re confused.” Shuri hated how irrational she was being. But the thought of Riri even entertaining someone else…

“Con- I’m not a heartless bitch, Shuri! The guy wanted me to have the snacks and letter so I just took it out of kindness. I said I woulda shared the snacks with you! Like I’m trying to do right now, but you’re being a fricken jerk!” Riri kicked the rug in front of Shuri’s bed in irritation before kicking it back to its rightful place.

Shuri rubbed the bridge of her nose and bit the inside of her lip. She glared at the gift basket of snacks with displeasure. She didn’t want to eat any of those snacks made from ‘Sipho’s love for Riri. She didn’t even want that on her bed. 

“Man, screw this. Talk to me when you get over yourself. I’m going home.” Riri picked up the gift basket and her bag and left the room.

“Bast.” Shuri rubbed a hand over her face and through her braids, “I messed up.”

Shuri found herself in her mother’s chambers, relating what happened.

“And she had the audacity to want to share his cookies with me. I don’t want to eat treats from someone who wants Riri for himself.” Shuri huffed and groaned as she rambled.

Ramonda looked on as her daughter worked herself up, “Shuri, come.” She pat the seat next to her.

Shuri came over and heavily sat down next to her mother.

“Have you stopped to think that you are confusing Riri?” She asked gently.

“Confusing her? How?”

Ramonda took a breath “Well, Shuri, Riri does not know that you like her. So your outburst came to her as a surprise. And she is rightfully confused. And angry.”

Shuri clasped her hands together. That was correct.

“And you questioning her sexuality was also very, very wrong, my child.”

Shuri winced, she knew it was a low blow to do that. “I was just so angry at the thought of her having a boyfriend. I’d definitely be a better match for her.”

Ramonda smiled, "Then why don’t you tell her your feelings?”

Shuri swiftly shook her head, “No, Mother. It would ruin the friendship if the feelings aren’t reciprocated. You know this.”

Ramonda nodded, “Yes, I know this. But would it be any more ruined than it might be now? You said some very hurtful things to your supposedly good friend. To the girl you….love?”

Shuri bounced her legs anxiously.

“And should a boy not confess his feelings next time, but a girl who she so happens to like back. What then? Will you lash out at her for being with the first girl that asked her out?”

Shuri hung her head in her turmoil.

Riri sobbed into Okoye’s neck, “And..and she- she said I must be confused. I tried so hard not to cry right there, Mama.” 

Okoye rubbed Riri’s back and supplied her with kisses to help placate her daughter.

Clearly this was Shuri lashing out because of her untold feeling for Riri, but Okoye didn’t voice it. Riri should figure it out eventually. She just continued rubbing soothing circles on Riri’s back.

“Shuri will come to her senses, Riri. Don’t worry.”

“She pissed me off so bad, Mama. I literally felt physically sick when I left. She didn’t even stop me or anything.”

Okoye hugged Riri tighter, “I know it hurts, my love. But you both always make up, right? That’s the great thing about your relationship with her. You can never stay cross for long.”

Riri sniffled and rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on, “I’m gonna go sleep, Mama.”

Okoye gave Riri another kiss, “All right, my Pebble. Rest well.”

Riri walked to her room and slipped under her sheets, falling asleep almost immediately.

Later that evening, Riri saw that she had a few missed calls on her beads from Shuri. She didn’t even return the calls, deciding to deal with that later.

Riri walked outside and smelled dinner. She walked into the kitchen to see if her mother needed any help but paused when she saw Shuri there, plating out the food with her mother.

“What are you doing here?” Riri eyed her wearily.

Shuri set down a plate, “I came to talk to you.”

“Ma, you let her in?”

Okoye gave Riri a look, “Since when have I ever turned her way, child? Come sit and eat.”

Riri sat at the table, opposite Shuri. She decided to stay out of the conversation unless her mother prompted her. And she made sure to avoid eye contact every time Shuri tried to catch her gaze.

Once dinner was over, Shuri offered Okoye to help wash up.

Riri used this time to escape to her room. 

Around twenty minutes later, a knock came to her door.

“Come in.” By the power of Bast, maybe it was just her mother and Shuri went home already.

The door slowly opened to reveal Shuri.

“Hey, Riri.”

Riri gazed at the ceiling, “Yo.”

Shuri closed the door and walked further into the room with her hands behind her back, “I came to apologize about my behavior this afternoon.”

Riri just glanced over at Shuri.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel so bad. I am sorry for acting so irrational. I’m sorry for those hurtful things I said.”

Shuri wanted to sit down, but she didn’t want to push the envelope too much.

“Why did you say them in the first place, Shuri? Do you just like making me feel like crap from time to time?” Riri kept her eyes upward to prevent any more tears from falling.

“No, don’t say that. I don’t like making you feel that way.”

“Then why do I feel that way, Shuri?” 

Shuri took a hand from behind her back and rubbed it down her face. Should she say it? But what if it ruins them beyond repair? Should she take the risk?

“You’re spacing out on me.”

Shuri looked over at Riri, “Making you hurt is never my intention. I care about you too much for that. I..I..The reason I behaved in such a manner earlier...”

Riri sat up on her elbows, “Yea?”

Shuri took a staggering breath, “I behaved like that because…”

Riri held her breath as her heart hammered in her chest.

“I care about you so much. We’ve been friends for so long and we were two peas in a pod. We are two peas in a pod. I was just…scared. I acted irrationally thinking that you getting a boyfriend…any relationship in general would cause us to drift apart. And you’d forget about me. So I lashed out.”

Shit.

Riri looked at Shuri. Really looked at her before she cracked a smile.

Fuck.

“You know that’d never happen. Nobody could ever replace you.”

She copped out.

Shuri smiled back before pulling out a gift bag from behind her back, “I brought these snacks as a peace offering. I even put some Oreos in there too.”

Riri sat up straighter on the bed and clapped excitedly, “Yes!” She grabbed up the bag and rummaged through it with feral vigor.

Ha. It feels good knowing Sipho could never make her excited like this at least.

“Thanks, Shuri.”

Shuri just smiled.

‘’Get over here!’’ Riri gestured for Shuri to come sit on the bed, which she did.

She enveloped Shuri in a hug, to which she excitedly hugged back.

“I forgive you. Thanks for apologizing.”

“You shouldn’t thank me. It was the proper thing to do.” She rested her chin on Riri’s shoulder.

Riri hugged Shuri tighter as she stared at an imaginary spot on the wall.

Shame on her for assuming Shuri was going to confess. She definitely didn’t like her like that.

Taggies: @somethingcleaverandwhitty @karimwillia @neptoons1998 @pantherheart

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 32

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26 - Part 27 - Part 28 - Part 29 - Part 30 - Part 31

Warning: angst, emotional abuse, loneliness, despair - as a writer I would say here is the big plot twist and after that everything will get better (hopefully)... :)

That night you had the worst nightmares you have had in a while. After crying yourself to sleep you saw Buggy in your dreams, the small Buggy as you had first met him, sitting together with Gaimon, holding a glass, smiling at you, his face friendly and full of innocence. You wanted to go over to him, you wanted to sit with your friends and laugh and drink and enjoy the good times you always had together. While you trying to reach him, stretching out your hand, his body turned into wax, his face a sad grimace. He tried to move his lips, but everything was inaudible. You called out for him, wanting to run towards him, but something is holding you back. As you looked down to your feet you can see quick sand, slowly swallowing your feet, reaching now all the way up to your knees. The sand is hot, you cannot move, you start to lose sight of Buggy. Feeling desperate, knowing if you could have told him only one thing, this one thing - you could have escaped the quicksand and also rescued your captain from the wax. 

Panting and gasping for air you wake up, immediately sitting up, pressing your palm to your anxious heart, trying to calm it down. You should have told Buggy that you love him. You had so many chances. The first time he forcefully shut you up, being afraid of hearing these words from you. The second time you had no courage. There was no third time. And now it was too late. You tried to slow down your breath and think of what to do next. You had spent the last days in self pity and despair. You did not believe that Buggy had really abandoned you and sold you to a mighty warlord for a handful of berries. There was something else about this story which was fishy. If this was his plan all along why did he not give you to the marines in the first place? They probably would have even paid a better bounty than a criminal like Crocodile. And why would he think you would just stay here in this desert city and live with a chain-smoking devil fruit eater? 

You looked around in your room, not seeing any chance to escape. The windows were sealed with iron bars, the door always locked. You laid back in your pillows and sighed loudly. You knew what to do - you would have to use your charisma and charm once more to finally play along and get out of this palace. And then you would have a chance to meet your former captain again. Would you tear him to pieces for past grievances, or would you be overwhelmed by an intense desire to kiss him passionately? In this moment, you found yourself unsure of which path to take, uncertain of what would be the most appropriate response.

Until the morning you were laying awake in your bed, your mind full of thoughts of revenge and determination. Before dawn, you got up, went into the bathroom and take a long and soothing bath. You decided to use the finest shampoos Crocodile has provided you with and you even found some makeup to enhance your natural beauty. For someone who had been abducted and hadn't slept much you actually looked great. As you came out of the bathroom you went to the closet, taking out one of the most beautiful dancer costumes embroidered with pearls and stones. As you gazed into the mirror, a bittersweet nostalgia washed over you. Reflected back was an image of a lady, no longer adorned with the trappings of a pirate's life - maybe this was the life you had actually longed for?

Seizing a book from the nearby shelf, you swiftly tore out a piece of paper from its first page. With a sense of urgency, you etched a message onto the paper before carefully tucking it into the pocket of your skirt, ensuring its safekeeping. As if he would have predicted your timing, the door opened and Crocodile entered your room carefully, unsure in which state he would find you in. You sat on the chair next to the window, holding the book you just had grabbed, pretending you were reading and awaiting his arrival. It was the first time he saw you in the clothes he had chosen for you and on top of that you were not in your bed, but bathed and dressed sitting on a chair.

 “Good morning!”, you greeted him with a smile. You were determined to make you both feel better by showing kindness.  “Good morning…”, he hesitated, hearing you saying this for the first time as well.  Slowly walking towards you, his face was blurred in confusion.  “Feeling better, eh?”, he asks, putting the tray in front of you on the little table next to your chair.  “Much better. Thank you for breakfast.”, you put the book down, making sure he won't see the first page being ripped out. 

Not knowing how to handle your kindness, just like Buggy, Crocodile turned around on his heel. 

“Wait, don't you want to eat with me? I am tired of eating alone..”, you asked him carefully, making sure your voice doesn't sound too demanding. 

“I already ate. Maybe later..”, his short answer left you a bit disappointed and without further ado he left the room and you alone again. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, carrying with it a mix of frustration and resignation. You had made an effort to accommodate his desires, to align your actions with his expectations. Yet, it seemed that your attempt had backfired, leaving you questioning the complexities of your relationship.

You spent the day reading, trying to distract yourself. Every time the sadness seemed to overwhelm you, you took a pen and started writing on some pages of the book letters to Buggy. But as time passed, frustration welled up within you. The letters, filled with raw vulnerability and unspoken yearning, felt somehow inadequate. They failed to capture the depth of your emotions or bridge the gap between you and Buggy. You also felt just mad at him. In a surge of exasperation, you tore the pages apart, crumpling them into a ball before casting them beneath your pillow.

Crocodile came back around lunch time, bringing you another meal at midday for the first time since he had captured you. This time he carried two trays, both full of fruit, meat, rice, even a bottle of wine and two beautifully crafted crystal glasses. “Lets have lunch together!”, he proposed and you were relieved he seemed to have understood your good intentions. Without taking his coat off, he sat down next to you on a chair, facing the window, the trays placed in front of you. He offered you wine without saying a word and you happily nodded, knowing this would take the edge and your nervousness off. As you both started drinking and eating in silence, the sun of Alabasta shone through the window, lightening up your meal and his face. He was still looking at you with suspicion, his forehead slightly wrinkled. You knew you would need to talk to him to make him trust you more. 

“Thank you for giving me the chance to talk to Buggy last night. I have to admit I was sad at first…” 

Crocodile paused mid-meal, his gaze fixed upon you, intrigue etched across his features. He appeared genuinely interested in what you had to say, inviting you to continue sharing your thoughts.

“But I understand now that he was after my bounty all along. He just saw me as something easy he could use and get rid off again..” 

The warlord fell silent, giving you the chance to share your feelings with him. You could see his face was more at ease now, the presence of wine had also contributed to his eased demeanor.

“I just thought… that I would be more for Captain Buggy than just a simple crew member..”

“Is that so?”, Crocodile took another sip of wine before he lit his cigar. You can feel his eyes now wandering all over your body. You are taking another sip of the wine, trying your best to stay in the role. 

"Yes, I thought... I mean, after we shared some nights together," you began, your voice trailing off slightly as you broached the sensitive topic.

Crocodile's voice rose a notch as he interjected, his curiosity piqued by your statement. The subtle shift in his tone did not escape your notice, and it brought a smile to your lips. His eyes betrayed a mixture of confusion and something deeper—an unmistakable desire.

You met his gaze with an air of candor, fully aware of the effect your words were having on him. The room seemed to crackle with anticipation as you continued. “So, he didn't treat you right?” “No, he did not offer me a beautiful room with so many books like you do now. A private bath. A spacious bed with luxurious sheets. And all these beautiful clothes…!”, you let your hands gently slide down over your clothed shoulders and your slightly exposed décolte. You can hear him clearing his throat and taking another bigger sip of wine. He has almost finished his whole glass in one gulp. 

You think of the beautiful green dress Buggy had bought you. The dress you haven't worn yet, the dress you loved so much, which was so much more elegant and sophisticated than the cheap dancers clothes hanging in this closet of yours in your little prison cell. You decided at that moment to not only tear Buggy to pieces but also steal your dress back. 

“Well, this is all yours and you can have even more. If you join forces with me, I can buy you whatever your heart desires.”, Crocodiles voice called you back into your grim reality.

“Anything I want?”

“Anything.”, he repeats and empties the wine bottle into his glass without offering you more. 

You sit back and smile at him. 

“Can you take me for a walk? I am dying in here out of boredom. I want to see the town of Alabasta!”

He suddenly gets up, the cigar gleaming angrily in his mouth. 

“You can go out later. It is still too early for you.” 

“But…!”

"Let's discuss this later!" he repeated firmly, seizing both trays and hastening towards the door.

Caught off guard, you found yourself unable to react as he swiftly exited the room, leaving you behind. Your voice, a mere whisper, escaped silently, "Shit!"

Crocodile never returned, not even for dinner, leaving you with yet another day of receiving only two meals. Surprisingly, this arrangement suited your current state of mind. Frustration simmered within you, fueled by the frustration he presented and the exhausting effort required to maintain the facade. In truth, you were looking forward to an evening spent in solitude, allowing your thoughts to wander freely, particularly towards Buggy.

Caught in a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions, you found yourself trapped between disbelief and the painful realization that he had indeed betrayed you—a despicable pirate who had forsaken you for the allure of some cheap berries. The few moments when you had called him out on his behavior and he had defended himself as “I am a pirate, you cannot think highly of me..” was something you remembered now as you were sitting on your bed.

In a fit of frustration, you tore at the fabric of your skirt, rending it into tattered pieces. The desire for him still burned within you, despite the pain he had caused. Closing your eyes, you envisioned his handsome face, his defined cheekbones, his penetrating gaze, the red nose, and the smudged clown makeup. Vivid memories of his intense presence flooded your senses—the way his eyes glinted with desire, the sound of his voice as he moaned softly. The overwhelming rush of emotions threatened to engulf you entirely.

Overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions, you rose abruptly, a scream tearing from your throat. The torn fabric of the skirt scattered on the floor as you unleashed your agony, your voice reverberating against the walls. Frustration turned into fury as you struck the bookshelf, causing books to tumble to the ground, their pages rustling in protest.

Exhausted from the cathartic release of your screams, you sank to your knees, cradling yourself in your own arms. Rocking back and forth, tears streamed down your face, you were exhausted. In that moment, you allowed yourself to surrender to the overwhelming vulnerability that had been building within you.

You were so strong all day, it was okay to be weak now and give in to your feelings. Tomorrow was another day… 

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@janitorlarry7

(Previous) "I-I see.." Larry listened and looked down at his legs for a brief moment upon Teddy mentioning them before following right behind him to another room. "..Is there no protective gear for them whatsoever or something?"

The door shut immediately after Larry entered. The hiss of gas flooding into the chamber happen to coincide with Teddy sharply inhaling through his teeth, much to his relief.

He didn’t want Larry to think he was being a bother for requesting proper PPE. Far from it! He just... wasn’t sure how to help.

Teddy crossed his arms and put his hand on his chin as he waited for the chamber to do its thing. What would cover his legs that wouldn’t create a tripping hazard..? He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice that the door to the laboratory had opened at first.

The main floor was arranged in a grid with machines and small research stations taking up a square or two, with walkways down the middle and supplies hung on the walls.

“I’ll find something,” Teddy said as he stepped out of the decontamination chamber.

He briefly paused to check the progress of a weaving machine on his way to a door opposite of the door he entered. It was labelled, “Cleaning Supplies & First Aid” with safety posters surrounding it.

Once they reached it Teddy turned to go in the room right next door. It turned out to be a walk-in closet full of various assorted clothing. Including some lab coats and uniforms mixed in with the rest.

One side of the room was lined with long, short drawers labelled with numbers. He opened a few before finally pulling a vacuum sealed bag out of drawer 47.

“These may be a bit baggy..,” Teddy said as he pulled the pants out and put the shirt back, "...but I made these for Freddy so hopefully they’re long enough.”

Then he smiled while holding them out to Larry. “I’m glad you said you’d rather have a rash than risk arachnomorph venom.”

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Punk Princess

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 (Next Part)

Eddie wakes up Friday morning feeling lighter than he has in a week and his uncle notices right away.

“You finally fix things with your boy?” He’s pretty sure the smug smirk on Wayne's face is a little uncalled for, but Eddie really can’t find it in him to be annoyed.

“We talked everything out, and everything is hopefully better than it even was before.” He beams, shoving half a pop tart in his mouth before downing his cup of coffee in one go.

“You got home awful late last night.” Wayne's fishing for information, and him and Eddie both know it.

“We just talked, Wayne. Just friends… who are really really important to each other, and are still figuring out the rest.” Eddie shoots his uncle a pointed look, the old man chuckling lightly in response and shooting Eddie a look that says ‘ yea sure ’ as he makes his way towards the bathroom.

Steve and Eddie had ended up staying up so late the night before, Eddie had really only gotten home with enough time for about 3 hours of sleep before he had to get up for school. He could still feel the soft press of Steve's lips to the underside of his jaw where he’d sealed his promise to be open with Eddie about how he was feeling in the future. Eddie in turn sealing his promise to be better, do better with a soft press of his lips to the inside of Steve’s wrist. Nothing had been defined, but they’d fully established that they were someone of great importance to each other, and their thoughts and feelings, and opinions meant something. Eddie had even spent an hour running his hands through Steve's hair as he cuddled into his lap while he’d re-sewn the Gothic print ‘E’ back into his vest, and explained what every patch meant, and the significance of them. 

Eddie couldn’t help but beam at the fact that he had small pieces to represent each member of the Hellfire club, snuggled into the material along with things that represented the kids and Robin.

“It’s all the pieces of me I’ve found and decided to love. That have loved me in return.”

He’d whispered it almost bashfully as he tied off the thread on the E and set the vest gently on the coffee table next to him. Eddie was beyond smitten, his heart full to the brim with everything that was Steve, and all he wanted to do, was just about everything to make Steve’s life the wonderful one he deserved. 

“I’m off Wayne, gotta head out early to stop at the diner on my way into school. Love you.” He calls over his shoulder in the direction of the bathroom. He heard the muffled ‘love you’ back as he shut the front door.

Eddie was practically floating as he made his way into the school. Coffee tray balanced with a bag of pastries in his right hand as he wiggled his backpack off his shoulder next to Gareth at his locker. 

“Oh sick, one of those for me?” Eddie slaps Gareth's hand away, shooting a glare at him, before handing him the pastry bag.

“Hands off Gar Bear. I know for a fact your moms got a fancy coffee maker and you’ve already had at least 3 cups this morning.” Gareth holds his hands up laughing, before opening the bag and peering inside, pulling out the pink sprinkle donut, as he watches Eddie's eyes scan the hallways.

“So I take it the apology went well?” Eddie knows his entire face lights up with the dopiest smile he’s ever had when he turns back to his best friend. 

“It went way better than well.” Gareth laughs, rolling his eyes as he goes back to putting his books in his locker, a smear of frosting on his lips, when Robin appears out of nowhere and drapes herself across his back, the black fabric that is very obviously Steve’s vest, bunching up as she snuggles into his back. He faintly hears her whisper something along the lines of ‘ still not dating’ in Gareth's ear before she turns her head and smiles softly at Eddie, practically rolling off Gareth's back when she realizes he’s holding out a coffee for her.

“A thank you, for knocking some sense into me.” Her whole face lights up as she takes it, guzzling it down, before shooting him a sharp glare.

“Don’t make me have to do it again, but maybe bring me a few more coffees.” She winks, the purple eyeshadow she's wearing making her eyes look brighter. 

“Stevie?”

“Oh he’s around here somewhere, he got hung up outside talking to the gremlins about something or other.” She flaps her hand around as she speaks, shimming her shoulders as she inhales the aroma of her coffee just as Steve rounds the corner. Eddie stumbles slightly smacking the side of his head into Gareth's open locker door. Steve’s got on a tight fitted black shirt, tucked into a baggy pair of split colored plaid pants, one side red and the other yellow, a larger lopsided smile plastered to his face when he spots Eddie. 

“Hey Stevie.” Eddie breaths, handing Steve a coffee and placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist. 

“For me?” His laugh is bright, dancing around the hallway and landing in Eddie's rib cage. He nods, slipping his own Battle vest off his shoulders.

“I know it’s not black like the rest of your aesthetic, but, if you want?” Eddie offers out the article of clothing, hearing a fake gag from the direction of their friends as Steve beams at him and slips it on, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to the underside of Eddie's jaw. 

Promises, on promises. Eddie wants to give this man the world.

“Where’s mine man.” Jeff whines, coming up behind Steve and throwing an arm across his shoulders, causing him to spill some of the coffee as he takes a sip.

“Jesus Jeff, careful.” Eddie snaps, as he watches Steve’s sheepish expression while he wipes the spilled liquid up. 

“Sorry Steve-o” He says, pulling back and leaning against the wall beside them.

“When did Hawkins turn into such a fucking freak show?” Jason Carver is smirking to his friends as they pass the group, instinctively Eddie pulls up his fingers to his head in devil horns and sticks his tongue out at him, a strangled noise coming from Steve, and when he turns back to him he's wiping up more spilled coffee, a soft blush on his cheeks. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him and Steve scrunches up his nose in response, sticking his tongue out.

“Robbie!” Chrissy Cunningham's voice skitters across the hall towards them, as she breaks off from under Jason's arm and makes her way over to the other girl. “Oh gosh, hey good morning! I tried to catch you yesterday after Cheer practice, I wanted to give you this, I saw it at the store and instantly thought of you.”

What is happening right now?

Eddie glances at Gareth, who shrugs, shutting his locker door and leaning back against it, stealing Robin's coffee to take a sip while she's distracted.  Chrissy pulls out a large scrunchie, the deep velvet purple accented with silvery stars. 

“When you had the purple in your hair it looked so good, and this made me think of that!” She slips it onto Robin's wrist, Robin's face blooming a bright red as she smiles at her.

“Thank you so much Chrissy, I love it.” Her smile is genuine, even though Eddie feels like he can practically hear her internal freak out happening from where he's settled, wrapping himself across Steve's back to watch the interaction, chin resting on his shoulder.

“Chrissy, you telling her she's a star?” Eddie offers out, just to be a little shit, and Chrissy beams at him, a loud bubbly laugh dancing out of her throat.

“Well, that wasn’t the original intention, but I like it, so sure.” Her smile just seems to grow as she answers him. Eddie can vaguely make out the death glare Carver is shooting at him across the hall, but Eddie’s in a good mood today, and Chrissy just seems to be a beam of sunlight incarnate, so he chooses to ignore it, not wanting to dampen the happy atmosphere that's bloomed around his friends. Steve’s leaning back into Eddie’s chest as he hums softly, eyes sparkling while he watches his best friend fumble around trying to have a conversation with Chrissy. Eddie nuzzles his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, because apparently that’s something he can do now. He really can’t get over the easy way things seem to be falling into place with Steve. The long talk the night before seeming to push them even further past the line that had, had before their fight.

Eddie’s chest feels so fucking warm.

And then Steve’s wiggling his butt slightly where it’s lined up with Eddies crotch and he has to reach his hands down and grasp Steve’s hips to get them to stop moving, a low growl in the back of his throat, because now Steve’s playing dirty, since they’ve seemed to officially have veered into a more tactile friendship, friendship?  Was that still the right word for them? It felt like so much more than that, the remnants of Steve’s soft confessions of worrying that he thought he wasn’t good enough, even now to be something to Eddie, playing on repeat in his brain.

Steve snickers, glancing over his shoulder at Eddie, before pushing off him and out of his grip to grab his backpack. But Eddie beats him to it, bending down and scooping it and his own up to rest on his shoulder. 

“I got it, pretty boy.” He smirks, watching the soft pink dust Steve’s cheeks.

“Bye Chrissy!” Eddie calls cheerfully, a loud cackle falling from his lips at her startled giggle at the volume he says it in.

“Bye Eddie! Have a great Friday!”

With his free arm draped over Steve’s shoulders, and Steve leaning flush against his side, he’s pretty sure he’s going to have the best Friday.

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 (Next Part)

[mara-and-its-the-same]

CONGRATS DELLA!!!! IM SO SUPER DUPER PROUD OF YOU <3

🌷 I was wondering if I could have a fluff blurb with Eddie? I struggle with anxiety and things being too much for me, so I was thinking Eddie comforting reader who is overwhelmed with school and life. Maybe a prompt could be, "c'mon...let's take a break and come back to this when we're ready."

This is usually something I do to stop my thoughts from running wild and stressing out...hopefully this is helpful, but please let me know if it's too complicated and I could totally do somethng more simple!!!

congrats again, della!!! 💘🌸🌟

Thank you 🥰🥰😚

It’s not too complicated, it’s lovely 💕(not proof read 😬)

You’ve been looking at this one page for an hour and a half, trying to sit down and get it done, but your brain didn’t seem to get the memo this was work time, not intrusive thoughts time. You think you have to be shaking with all the thoughts running around your body, a discordant orchestra of anxieties in a thunderstorm taking over your mind. You try to tell yourself you’ll be fine, it’s only one grade, your teachers like you well enough, they can be understanding. Not if they don’t like you as much as you thought they did, if this is the one time Mrs. Donner decides against partial cred—

A rapid knock in your window pulled your mind from your thoughts but the smile through the glass calmed you instantly.

“Hey sweetheart, let me in will ya? ‘S freezing out here.” You stood in front of him and pretended to contemplate it for a second, but how could you not give in to that face? It took two big pushes since the ice practically sealed it shut but as soon as there was enough space for him to get through, he ducked under and took your face in both hands. “Mornin’ sweetheart,” he mumbled against your lips and you pulled back, taking him with you since the open window was bringing in all the cold. He slid it shut and locked it then shot you a concerned look.

“Morning? Ed, it’s like 10 o’clock.”

“Baby it's 3:30, why're you still up?" He tossed himself onto your bed, still made from that morning.

"I was just–" you vaguely gestured to your desk, littered with papers. "Doesn't matter, why are you still up? Shouldn't you be home?"

"Wow, that's one way to treat a guest.”

“No–I just mean how did you get here. If it is 3, which I doubt, what are you doing here.”

"Well first of all," he picked up your alarm clock and shook it at you as much as he could with it still attached to the wall, the flashing 3:47 taunting you. "And second, I was coming home from the hideout and thought I'd take a shortcut. Then I saw your light was still on." and I was worried about you.

"Edda," it started as a joke, he always joked with you about how many times you'd call him over then immediately forget what you were going to say, so it always ended up 'Ed-uhhh' Sweetheart, you call me that so much it might as well be my name. "We're nowhere near the hideout."

"I know but I wanted to check up on you. What are you doing up?"

Your essay, fuck– your essay. "Uh, nothing, don't– don't worry about it, I'm fine. Just some school work." You rushed to sit back at your desk and started rereading to where you left off. "Don't uh– You can stay just..." you trailed off and started scribbling again. The final draft was due tomorrow and you've never turned in anything less than an 85, but that was a one off circumstance. You still had 4 hours to get it done, so close to the finish line, just this one transition sentence needs to start cooperating. If only you'd stop procrastinating... well can it really be procrastinating if it's your math set and your science lab, all due the day after but you hardly have any time at all tomorrow and, and, and...

"—Hey, you still in there, baby?" You blinked as you came back to yourself. "Hey, sweetheart." Eddie was crouched next to your seat, a hand on the back of your chair and one over your knee. He must have taken his jacket and boots off while you weren't paying attention.

"Sor–sorry, I'll uh..." you turned back to the page and reached for your pen but he reached across you for your hand before you could.

He shook his head and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand. "C'mon," he nodded back towards your bed, "let's take a break and come back to this when we're ready."

"But it's–"

"I know what it is, and I know it's great, and I know we're gonna talk to Kelley tomorrow and figure it out." He stood up now, but leaning over you now. "Yeah?"

"Ok, but–"

"Enough with the buts, no buts. Except yours, in that bed." He smiled on one side at his own lame joke.

"That was so bad." He smiled even bigger when you stood up and let him put his arms around your waist.

"Mmm, but you love it."

"I'm not sure about that, but I love you so that'll just have to suffice."

"Suffice, it does. Your bed, m'lady."

"Thank you, kind sir." He pulled the covers down for you and gave you a look when you didn't get in. "Stay over?"

"Your dad'll kill me."

"So? You're like a cat, you've got 9 lives."

"A cat? How?"

"You're very cat like. A lil stray," you pouted and slid your hand down a curl framing his face, then lightly tugged the end. "My lil stray."

That didn't seem to convince him any further, "Stay, we have warm milk? Please?"

"Quit it with the cat jokes and I will."

"Yay!"

He slid in behind you and nudged your shoulder with his cold nose then a warm kiss. You laid in silence for a few minutes, he stopped his restless movements and when you were certain he was asleep, "meow."

He was not asleep and the way he said your name sounded like a threat to leave he'd never make good on.

"Shhh, shhh, sorry, sorry," you giggled and he laid back down beside you.

"Good night," he said with joking firmness.

"Goodnight....my kitten."

And he purred, this boy purred, freakishly realistic too.

He felt your laugh more than he heard it with the way you were pressed up against him.

[tinymoonrider]

Blue Moon — WIP

Summary: It's that time of year again... Do you think you can survive? He sure doesn't... Not without help at least...

Warnings: Yandere themes, Purge Themes, NOT PROOF READ AT ALL and it ends on a Cliff Hanger

The reader is Gender Neutral :)

A/N: This is an unfinished WIP that I was trying to get done for months now and haven't been able to. I wanted to publish it instead of just deleting it completely.

I do apologize for not being able to get it done. Hopefully you'll still enjoy it.

———02:06:34:08———

I tugged my jacket closer towards my body, my head turning down towards my feet. As I walked faster towards my building, I tried to ignore those on the streets harassing passersby. Unable to drown out the sounds of their chanting and prying questions, I look away from them. “‘Ey, don’t ya need some protection?” A man wearing a blue beanie and thick matching sweatshirt sidesteps in front of me, hands out in front of his chest to show me no harm. Shaking my head, I force a polite smile trying to evade his blocking body.

“Oh come on? I know where you live, I doubt you have any weapons that will actually protect you…” My lips drop as I force my way through. “I’m sorry, that’s… I didn’t mean it like that! I swear!” Walking faster down the street, I don’t look back at him.

Now in front of my building, I slip my card out of my pocket and across the reader. Wiggling my way through the rusted door with a groan, I carefully look around before continuing through. Once my body was finally in the safety of my building, I forced the door shut and straightened my clothes. Heading down towards the lobby, I spot the building manager, Mr. Faux wiping down the grey stained counter tops of the front desk. Looking up at me he smiles, eyes crinkling more at the gesture.

“(Y/n), how are you?” He stops wiping, his body straightening slightly.

I smile, “Doing alright. Still can’t fix the front door?” He shakes his head, blinking a couple of times.

“I called management, they said they’d send someone over…” Chuckling solemnly, I shake my head along with him.

“At this point, I’ll just call someone up. It’s getting ridiculous.” Mr. Faux laughs, his body shaking along with the movement.

“Don’t worry about it. My son can take care of it. That way no one has to pay for something so ridiculous… Have a good day alright, (Y/n)?” I nod, watching as Mr. Faux waddles away.

Heading up to the eighth floor, I walked down the empty hallway towards my unit, the flickering florescent lights above buzzing in an agitated manner. Getting into my apartment, I set down my things and started to prepare dinner. Washing my hands and gathering my ingredients, I stumble upon a yellow envelope pinned to the fridge, my name printed on the front. Dark blue, curly letters stretch along the paper, every swirl and curl drawing me in more and more. Taking it out of the clip I notice the red embossing sealing the letter shut. A small Delilah flower colored in black ink marks the waxy seal. Running my fingertips over it, each and every bump vibrates my skin faster and faster. Peeling it away from the paper, I carefully take out the contents and placed them down onto the counter in front of me.

The white stock paper a stark contrast to the red ink scrawled in the front in bold lettering. Based off of the way the ink sticks to the page, it was printed, not handwritten:

Dear (Y/n),

I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you aren’t planning on participating in the events taking place on: March 21. Although it is your given right, granted by our New Founding Fathers of America, I do ask that you join us at La Belle’s @ 6:00 PM. Although any and all crimes are legal on this day, we do ask that you keep any and all weapons at home. The events taking place on this day will not be required. In fact, we wish to keep any and all patrons as safe as possible.

We do understand the possible fears and risks you may be having, especially on this day, but do know that we will ensure your protection. After all, your protection means our lives are protected as well!

At exactly 5:30 PM on March 21, a car with the license plate: AV2782 will be waiting for you at the back of your building. We do hope you will willingly join us as more details will be provided on the drive there.

——Koala

My eyebrows furrowed down to a singular line the more I kept reading. Biting back the noise that wanted to escape my throat, I looked around the room, a cold chill running up my spine. As I set down the letter, I take a peak inside the envelope, a sticker name tag with the picture of a small brown mouse was printed on the front. On the back it said, “Not to be put on until you have arrived at the event!” Putting it off to the side, I then pulled out a small bingo card with a random assortment of letters. Flipping it over two small shapes were burned into the back. Quickly placing all contents back into its original packaging, I rushed towards my room only to find Gus laying on the bed, eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey, you…” He grinned, his phone being thrown into his lap. “I see you found your letter,” sitting up he crawls over towards me. Pulling me closer, he traps me between his legs before trailing kisses up my arms and towards my sternum, his eyebrows raising, obviously waiting for some sort of answer.

“What?” My hands push against his chest for a moment as I try to create space.

“What was the letter about?” My gaze focuses onto his features for a moment.

“You weren’t the one who wrote it to me?” He shakes his head, concern creeping onto his features. Before he can say anything, I interrupt him, “Where did you get it?”

He shrugs leaning back on his forearms, “‘Was in our mailbox… Why?” He studies my features for a moment before sitting up, hands reached out towards mine, but not quite touching. “Something wrong? What was in it?”

I shake my head my nails scraping against my skin, “I think it was some sort of prank… It— It was about the purge…” He nods his head slowly. With a deep breath, he flashes me a charming smile.

“I’m sure it will be alright. The building will be on lock down… Do you know who it’s from?” Closing my eyes I take a deep breath.

“I don’t know. They called themselves Koala… There’s some sort of event taking place at La Belle’s… It starts at six.” When I open my eyes, Gus’ hazel ones peer at me from his spot on the couch.

“I’m sure that whoever is sending those letters are trying to trick people into become martyrs for ‘the holiday’.” His fingers scrunch up angrily at the words, “Just ignore it for now. There’s not much we can do about it anyway…” I nod.

“You’re probably right.”

Gus smiles up at me, his lips pressing a kiss against my stomach, “I’m going to start dinner. Go ahead and rest up.”

Mumbling out a “thank you,” I take Gus’ spot before flopping back onto the soft mattress. With the warm comforter wrapped around my body, I drift off to the noise of my blind’s rustling slightly.

————02:01:57:09———

Walking out into the bright living room, I searched for Gus, my eyes squinting slightly. Gus’ arms wrap around my body before I can process, his breath fanning against my neck and ears. Sharp tingles run through my body quickly as he pulls me closer towards him, a hum tickling my ears.

His head buries in the crook of my neck as he mumbles out, “How was your nap?” I nodded, leaning more into the warm embrace.

“Very, nice. Thank you for taking care of things for me.” He hums again as his fingers trace my back line.

I let him pull me towards the couch, fuzzy blankets with yellow ducks scattered along the fabric soon engulfs me. Cushions pressed along my sides, he leans into me, his hand running down my arms. Turning on the TV, the news flashes on screen. Two women in blazers sit behind a clear crystal desk, their papers and laptops sitting just off to the side, perfectly framing them in the middle. The one with a deep maroon blazer and black tight curls looks into the camera with such ferocity it shakes me. The other, with a much softer look placed onto her face, wears a soft blue blazer that compliments her skin perfectly. Their names slide on screen in front of them momentarily.

“Just as a reminder for all citizens and purge tourists: At seven o’ clock on March twenty first, all crimes, including murder will be legal. What an exciting day for us all…” She pauses, her fingers pushing back curls, “However our New Founding Father’s of America wants to remind everyone that any and all crimes committed on this day, although legal here, isn’t out there.”

Her partner chimes in, “That’s right Monica. Many countries around the world are appalled at our Purge practices every year as many of our citizens, including theirs, participate in such ‘barbaric acts’. From what our resources have been telling us, this also includes world wide illegal acts such as identity theft. Selling this information to hackers across the world, even if you are still in the country, is still illegal. You will be forced to hold up to these crimes if you do participate, so we all urge you to be safe. Be careful and may your deity—or lack thereof—be with you all on this upcoming holiday.”

Her partner Monica nods, “Thank you Lindsey. This brings us to our next segment; should the warning announcement be changed as not everyone believes in the same type of God, one God—as some faiths are polytheistic, or a God at all. What if it’s just a higher power or mantra? All of this and more, coming up next…” The screen fades to black as a commercial blinds us a moment later.

Gus snickers quietly next to me, his body shaking mine involuntarily. Looking at him, he shakes his head, looking away from me, “It’s nothing I promise. I just… I never thought things would end up this way…” A sad look takes over his features, body leaning heavier against mine, “I just wish she wasn’t taken from us. Had it not been… We thought it would work.” I nod my head.

“It’s not your fault you know. Things happen and nothing is fool proof.” My hand rubs his back as tears spill from his waterline.

“I would give anything to get her back. Anything.” He looks away from me momentarily, his hands wiping his cheeks.

“I know… I would too.” He pulls me into a hug, his chin hooking over my shoulder.

———00:00:48:55———

It was less than an hour before commencement. My work was merciful enough to give us the week off so I was allowed to stay home while I prepared for the Purge. Gus, on the other hand wasn’t so lucky. As soon as he rushed through the door he locked himself in the bathroom, the shower running. Leaning against the door, I listened for anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied that the only noises I could hear were the pelting of water against tile, I pulled away and started on dinner. As soon as he got out of the shower, he pressed his sticky skin against my back with a chuckle.

“Hey…”

I rolled my eyes playfully, “Hey yourself…” Wiggling my body so I could face him, my hands push against his chest. “Why don’t you get dressed. We’re going to start lock down soon.” He nods, his expression dropping down along with his head. With a deep inhale he pulls himself away from me before dragging himself into the shared bedroom.

As I rushed around the kitchen, the news and their countdown timer as background noise, I gathered all of the ingredients for some stuffed bell peppers. ‘Hopefully this will help you get your mind off of things…’ Just as I was about to start chopping a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. A pulsing feeling running through my body as Gus slips on a shirt, eyes locking with mine before going over to the door. I watch as he takes a look through the peephole, his shoulders relaxing. He shakes his head with a sad smile.

“I’ll be right back. It’s Mr. Faux, I ran into him earlier, I think he’s here to continue our conversation…” As he cracks the door open, he waits for me to leave.

“What about?”

His head shakes once more, “Nothing important… Just about the front door. It won’t be a problem after tonight.” I nod, smiling. Just as I’m about to head back into the kitchen, I look back at him once more.

“Is everything alright? I know this day is pretty hard for you… I’m here if you want to talk about it.” My hands fiddle with the side of my shirt, “You know that right?” The corners of his mouth lift up but his eyes don’t shine like they usually do. He nods before slipping outside. My fingers tighten around my shirt as I head back to the kitchen, the pulsing feeling still not leaving my body.

As soon as I had placed the peppers in the oven, Gus walked back in his eyes darting everywhere else but mine. Going over towards him, I watched as he ran his fingers along the pictures of us together hung up on the wall. Placing a hand onto his shoulder, I let him shrug me away, a sigh escaping his lips. Turning back towards me, he opens his mouth to speak but the TV interrupts him. The screen flashing blue, the monotone voice playing through the speakers as the alarm blares at us. Commencement.

———00:11:59:59———

"(Y/n)… Mr. Faux said there's a car waiting for you outside. Are you planning to go to that party?" I shook my head.

"No. Are they still there?" Gus shrugs a sigh escaping his throat. I watch as he swings himself over the couch, a groan escaping his throat. I watched as he leaned forward, hands cupping the back of his head before leaning back once more.

"There's something I need to tell you… Come here." He waves me over. Cautiously walking over towards him, I take a seat and let my fingers thread through his. His eyebrows furrow into a thin line, "About that letter—"

All the lights go out followed by accompanying screams. His fingers tighten around mine, "What's going on?"

"I need to get you out of here. This isn't worth it. It isn't worth it let's go." He tugs me up and drags me around the unit, through the darkness, the screams get louder. His hand never left mine as he swung the front door open. Leading me through the building, a sliver of light hits our eyes as I realize we're at the back of the building. "Once you're out, run to my car," he hands me his set of keys, "get in and lock it. If I'm not there in ten minutes, start driving without me. Go to this location. Take the back roads. Once you arrive, the password is written on the back of the paper. In the glove compartment there is a mask with neon lights. Turn it on and cover your identity. No matter what, you will not take it off until this night is over and you are safe. Completely. Without a doubt, safe. Got that?"

My head spins, "Gus, please." His fingers curl around my shoulders. Looking behind him, he sighs.

"Please. Please just do it. Okay?" Nodding, he presses his lips to mine, warmth flooding my body, "I love you so much. Please, stay safe." Carefully he takes off the barricades from the door and props it open. Checking the immediate surroundings around the building, he nods at me. "Go first, I'll be behind you to cover you."

Nodding, I make a full sprint towards his car, both items clenched tight between my fingers. Moments later, I jumped into the drivers seat, the doors locked behind me as I waited for him to catch up. I feel my uneven breaths escape from my slightly parted lips.

Gus pops up next to me, hand slamming against the window. "(Y/n), I'm here, unlock the door!" After following his command, I clamber over the side console and into the passenger seat. Once Gus settles in, he combs his hair with his slender fingers. His eyes were wide as he gripped the steering wheel. "Are… Are you ready?" He says somewhat breathlessly. I nod and let him drive us to our destination.

———00:11:24:19———

After about thirty minutes into the drive, we finally arrived at a large office-like building. Giant spotlights bolted into the ground shined up at the tinted windows. Pulling up towards the front drive, two men in fully padded suits waited at the front door, eyes trained forward guns strapped to their backs and legs. Turning towards Gus, who has refused to answer any of my questions so far, reaches into the glove compartment and places the mask over his face. Reaching inside once again, he takes out a similar mask, only mine has a wider toothy grin plastered on the front.

Handing it to me, he waits for it to cover my features before exiting the car. Opening my door, he takes my hand and pulls me so I stand behind him, his left hand roughly gripping my right one as he leads us up towards the padded suits. One turns towards him, a grimace etched into his lips as he leans forward. A deep booming voice growls out, "Password."

"AV 2782." The suit nods to their counterpart as they swing the doors open for us. Inside, a crushed velvet carpet and matching curtains decorate the room. Figures donned in blank white masks stand single file blocking us from moving anywhere but forward. Letting Gus lead the way, I follow him to the front desk where a figure donned in a splitting, two faced mask holds out his hands. I watch as Gus reaches into his pocket, pulling out his ID and placing it into the form's hands, Gus turns towards me.

"I don't have my ID… I left it in the apartment…" I whisper, hands clutching his shirt. He shakes his head.

"Don't worry. Do you still have the letter?" I nodded. "Good. Hand it to them and when we get inside, stick to me." Pulling it out of my pocket, my gut twists as I let them take it from me. After a quick scan at both, the white masked figures create a small opening for us to walk through.

Heading into the elevator and up to the top floor, Gus' fingers slap away my hands, his eyes unable to meet mine. Even behind closed doors. Once they open, dim lights and people sitting at circular tables, all focus onto us.

A figure donned in a feathery mask stands, somewhat elevated, at the front of the room. With a microphone in hand, they take a deep breath in, a smile creeping up onto their face, "Let the games begin."

———00:10:59:59———

We are lead to a table in the back of the room, the lights dimming around us. Now seated, Gus grabs my hand, squeezing me tight. A light flashes towards the front. An exhibition. A red dot at the corner of the screen projected onto the wall indicating that what we’re currently seeing is live. A series of images flashes before us. A padded room with a singular chair placed in the middle, several shots of a park, another of an office building. The screen goes black for a moment as a spotlight shines onto a mask-less announcer stands before us. Her attire is unlike anyone else’s. Tight leather wraps around her figure like a second skin, bright neon makeup painting her features. In smeary purple lipstick, she raises her microphone to her lips, a slurty voice putting us all in a trance.

“Welcome everyone… I’m so glad to announce this year’s contestants for the Purge Party,” she pauses, pulling out a paper, “Out of the thirty six invitations sent out to our people, only three of them came willingly… One is missing.” She purrs. Turning towards the screen she scans the faces that have now popped up on screen.

“Well, not really…” her eyes lock with mine, tongue running along her lips with a moan, “It seems as though our little runaway wanted to join our fun…” A spotlight illuminates our table, Gus’ fingers squeezing mine tightly. “And here I thought we would have to say goodbye to little Sara. You know the rules, Hon. We need all thirty six players… Is Sara our replacement for your little Mouse?”

Gus stands up, his fingers shaking as he looks down towards me. His hand never leaving mine he looks back up towards the announcer. “I wanted to deliver this one personally. They’re quite the fighter…” his voice cracks, “It was the most logical decision.” The crowd cheers as two bulky frames rush to my side, pulling me from my seat and dragging me away behind metal doors.

My mask drops from my face as I scream out to Gus. He doesn’t look back.

[quietwingsinthesky]

👀👀👀 Sorry for adding to your work but can I get Sam drinking Lucifer's blood

Hello hello hello anon sorry for the wait but hopefully the extra uh 3000 words makes up for it <3 and also born-again identity fix-it since it’s topical for me atm.

Sam is very familiar with dying.

It’s usually faster than this. He closes his eyes, and he’s facing Dean in Cold Oak with a knife in his spine or he’s sitting on a motel bed with a shotgun pointed at his chest. It hurts, but it’s brief like a ripped off band-aid. He goes into the cold, beckoning dark. He feels safe there. All the world fades away. Just like falling asleep, he wakes up a little later, his wounds vanished like a dream but the dried blood on his clothes left as a warning.

He’s never marinated in his own death before. He can feel it seeping into his pores. His head is throbbing like thunder even when Lucifer shuts up, too far gone to survive this without a miracle that isn’t coming. He was wondering a while ago what parts of him would fail first, and Lucifer “helped” by counting down the hours for him, straddling Sam’s torso with his fingers trailing over his skin. Poking Sam’s ribs vindictively as he laid out exactly when Sam could expect his organs to give up the fight. “First time dying alone, Sammy?” he said, doing that awful thing where his voice got soft and sympathetic just so that he could tear it away a moment later. “Dean’s not going to make it back in time. We knew that the minute he left.” Sam looked away from him, heave of his head to the side. “I’m here. I won’t leave you. Isn’t that comforting?”

He’d waited for a response. Sam couldn’t give him one. He’d decided to find the answer inside Sam instead, a vivisection that stretched on and on until Sam couldn’t cry anymore, and when it was over, there was no blood, no cuts, just Lucifer looking so pleased with himself as Sam tried not to throw up. Sam was too tired to do anything but turn away from him again.

Something new had kept Sam awake the past few days as his time ran out. A sound he’d been deafened by once before as the final seal broke and the Cage opened under his feet and all the light and power that was Lucifer came screaming out. Hearing it now made his teeth rattle. He’s never heard his hallucination make anything close to that noise. He taunts and insults and shouts in a very human way. Even his torture is crude and physical. Sam isn’t fit to be haunted by an angel, no matter how fallen. When the sound finally went silent again, Sam wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

His hallucination hadn’t given him more than a day before Sam’s liver fails first. He might be lying. The fallen-out hairs on Sam’s pillow beg to differ.

Sam’s mind is filled with calm and dreadful certainty. It’s over. He lost.

And Lucifer still won’t shut up. He’s doing it to rub it in now, gloating. Sam weakly cups his ears, and that does nothing to block it out.

There’s been someone else in his room for the past day. She looks like a woman, finely dressed, watching him impassively as his condition worsens. She’s not one of the staff. He’s pretty sure no one else can see her, no one but him and Lucifer.

“Vulture,” Lucifer spits at her, “I’m not finished. Find somewhere else to circle.” She doesn’t react except to look at her watch and then look at Sam. There is something like pity in her eyes, the hollow sort that brings no comfort and takes no action. Sam feels weirdly grateful to Lucifer for snapping at her like a feral dog, even if she can’t hear it. There’s no way he could do it himself.

It’s not hard to guess what she is and who she’s here for.

Sam stares at her as his head throbs. Every part of his body aches. His heartbeat feels weak. She frowns, nods, and taps her watch. Not long, then. He wishes Dean hadn’t bothered to try and save him. He wants one last embrace, Dean’s voice all rough and faux hopeful telling him it’ll be okay, they figure this out. If nothing else, it’s comforting that with Crowley’s hands on the reins of Hell, no demon alive will be taking a deal with Dean.

Sam’s tired. It’s okay. He won’t fight. He’ll go quiet.

“Back to me,” Lucifer says, because he never lets Sam forget it.

Sam doesn’t even care. He’s out of vacation days. It’s back to the Cage, where he belongs. Castiel never should have pulled him out. Dean never should have dragged his soul along, too. He wasn’t worth the effort.

Lucifer laughs again. Sam flinches. The reaper folds her arms.

And then, for the first time in days, there’s silence.

Sam doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t let his eyes close. The longer it stretches on, the more his body tenses in anticipation. The other shoe will drop. It’s only a matter of time.

He hears a beating sound. His hair gets blown out of place, tickling his face. He can see three people in his room.

“Sam?” asks Lucifer, softly. He doesn’t look very good. He’s bleeding, open sores that line his face, his hands, and probably other places Sam can’t see. Sam’s head swims. His eyes waver back to the Lucifer who was here first, who doesn’t have a mark on him and never has. He wears his face like he never needed Sam’s.

“It isn’t enough I have to share you with her. Now I’m encroaching on my own territory?” he says like he’s about to throw a tantrum.

The other Lucifer turns to face him. Sam’s hallucination of him is as caught off-guard as Sam feels. Lucifer, the one who bleeds, tilts his head, looks this image of himself up and down, and when he looks back over at Sam, his expression is contorted in sorrow. “Is that how you see me?” he asks.

“It’s what we are,” the hallucination answers for Sam. Sam’s not sure which ‘we’ he’s talking about.

“Be quiet,” Lucifer orders. Sam’s eyes widen as the impossible happens, a flicker along the edge of his hallucination’s appearance.

“If Sam can’t make me, what makes you think you-“ There’s a desperate edge to his tone, wholly unlike the way he ever sounded when Sam banished him. Lucifer glares at him.

“I said, shut up.”

He’s gone. Just like that. Sam exhales. Lucifer turns to the reaper.

“You can leave.”

The reaper’s voice follows, “We have an appointment.” Lucifer sighs heavily.

“You had one.” He comes closer to Sam, sitting on the side of the cot. Sam shuts his eyes tight. Lucifer touches his shoulder. He feels cold. With all the hellfire in Sam’s head, he’d forgotten that. “He belongs to me. When he dies, I’m who you’d deliver his soul to.” He waits a beat. “Am I right?”

“You are,” the reaper confirms.

“Then your role here’s irrelevant. I’m collecting him personally.” Sam shakes. Lucifer’s attention turns, his hand weighing heavier on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, Sam. I’m here.” He pets Sam’s hair, and he grimaces when strands pull free too easily. “I let you out of my sight for five minutes…” his voice trails off. There’s too much pain in it for him to speak around. He swallows and looks back over his shoulder at the reaper. “I told you to leave.”

“I still have to make sure that his soul crosses over.” She makes Sam sound like a job. An important one, but still just business. Lucifer hates that. Sam’s not sure how he knows exactly, but he can feel it prickling under his own skin.

“It won’t be.” Lucifer’s fingers trail over Sam’s face, from the bags under his eyes to the almost healed bruises from his accident. “I won’t tell you again. I have spent the last century dragging myself out of Hell to find him. You don’t want to be the one to get in my way now.” She makes an extremely disgruntled sigh.

And then there’s only one person in the room with Sam. Alone together at last.

Sam’s eyes want to close badly. This Lucifer is so quiet, his touch so gentle and calming.

“No, not yet, Sam,” Lucifer says. “If you fall asleep now, you won’t wake up. Let’s not get on Death’s nerves anymore than we already have.” Sam whimpers. He should have known this was all too good to be true. Not even this Lucifer will let him sleep. “I know,” he murmurs, “I know. Believe me, I plan to whisk you away to a much more comfortable bed than this one and force you to sleep for a week, but there’s something we have to take care of first.” Lucifer’s hand slides down his body to rest on his chest. Sam breathes in, pushing his hand up minutely. His eyes narrow for a moment, searching. What he finds makes his frown deepen.

Sam makes a questioning noise. It’s more than he’s been able to force himself to do for a while. Lucifer’s made him talkative. Lucifer glances up to meet his eyes before fixing them back on Sam’s middle. “There’s a lot of damage here, Sam. The Cage doesn’t let anything go that easily. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.” Sam almost chokes on a laugh. Easily. “I know how to heal you. I need your consent to-“

“No,” Sam croaks. Lucifer stops.

“I don’t want you to die,” he says, stubborn and upset.

“I'm not your vessel.” Speaking makes Sam feel like he’s going to vomit or pass out or both. Lucifer’s eyes widen for a moment before he regains his composure.

"That's not what I'm asking." Sam finds that hard to believe. Both of their bodies are falling apart. "You really think I'm just a monster, don't you?" He looks like Sam has actually hurt him. Sam... isn't sure what he thinks. His head is too filled with smoke, the clashing battle between the Lucifer in his mind who wanted to tear into him and the one sitting on his cot who wants to put him back together. He can't make them fit together. Lucifer is touching his face again. His thumb presses against Sam's lips like that's the closest either of them can bear to a kiss. "You need a little of me inside you for your body to be strong enough to heal itself, but that doesn't mean I have to take you as a vessel." Sam makes a face. "Stop looking at me like that. It wasn't an innuendo. I'm offering to bleed for you."

The fear that clutches Sam's chest makes his weak heart do double-time. He tries to push Lucifer's hand away from his face, but even if he had been human, Sam doubts he could have. "No," he forces out, "no, please, don't."

"Sam, calm down. You'll hurt yourself." Sam refuses. He won't do it again. He won't become that thing again, the monster Dean wanted to put down, selfish and arrogant and the reason the whole world was going to end. He won't let Lucifer turn him into that. Lucifer doesn't move, both hands on Sam's shoulders to keep him from trying to roll out of the bed to escape. He speaks slowly, pulling Sam back from the edge of panic, "I'm not a demon. My blood isn't addictive and it can't change you. Nothing about me can change you." His palm cups Sam's face again. "I'm already a part of you."

He's telling the truth. Sam can feel it. He doesn't understand how.

"Do I have your consent?" Lucifer asks again. Sam looks into his eyes. Lucifer cares about his answer. Sam inhales sharply as he realizes that Lucifer will save him, but that he also loves Sam enough to let him go. He won't be happy about it, but he'll respect that last wish. Sam can say no. Maybe it's a meaningless gesture when his soul will still be folded into Lucifer's grace, but if he really wants this to be over, if it's too much, than he can close his eyes and go to sleep. It'll be just like every other time, brief pain, into the dark, to be kept safe, only this time he will never wake up. Sam lays his hand over Lucifer's. All the devil cares about is what will make him happy.

"Yes," Sam decides. Lucifer is here, and it feels like he can breathe again. Quickly, Lucifer withdraws his hand. A cut opens over a patch of unblemished skin. It will be cleaner that way, but Sam's exhausted mind wonders if Lucifer would let him up to press his mouth against the burns and lick the blood up from them. He doesn't have long to contemplate that before Lucifer holds the cut over his mouth. Bright red blood drips from the cut, dotting Sam's chapped lips. His tongue slides out to taste it and more fall into his open mouth. It’s nothing like demon blood. The only similarity is how quickly the need for more consumes his thoughts. A drop or two isn't enough to sate him. He reaches for Lucifer's arm, hands trembling, and drags the cut down to his mouth. Lucifer lets him, leaning in to give Sam a better angle to latch onto the wound.

The cut is deep enough that when Sam sucks on it, it flows into his mouth like a stream. Lucifer's veins are opened up for him. Sam shuts his eyes, losing himself to it in seconds. There's a voice in the back of his head demanding that he pull all of Lucifer inside him, where he belongs, where Sam needs him. With thirsty gulps, he tries to make that a reality. Lucifer's other hand strokes his hair, lifting Sam's head slightly so that he doesn't choke while he's drinking. Sam's tongue keeps the cut wet, wriggling its way into Lucifer's flesh greedily like he can coax out more blood that way. The supply is steady, always enough to fill Sam's mouth, but not so much that he can't swallow it down in time. Lucifer's vessel obeys him, and it won't heal itself until Sam has first.

"Take everything you need," Lucifer encourages. Sam is holding on too tight, his nails digging little crescents into Lucifer's already bruised skin. He doesn't complain. Sam's not sure he can even feel it above the delirious joy of part of him being accepted back into Sam's body. "Take it all, if you want to. You can. I'd let you." Sam pulls off the cut to breathe. It still drips over his gasping mouth, drops rolling down his tongue to the back of his throat. The metallic taste lingers. There's no sulfur in Lucifer's blood, nothing but pure salvation, saved for Sam alone.

Drinking from him feels like trying to swallow an nuclear reactor. Sam can't get enough of him. The remnants of Lucifer's grace are mixed in with every drop, filling Sam up. Under his skin, he feels like his insides are being caressed, every pain wiped away. His heartbeat strengthens as Lucifer's grace gets into his own veins and powers the cells through. The fog in Sam's head doesn't lift, but it clears more than it has in days.

He brings Lucifer's wrist back to his mouth and latches on again.

Sam holds onto him with more strength than his body should have. He keeps drinking, mouthful after mouthful. With each breath, each heartbeat, Lucifer’s grace pumps further through every organ. Sam’s lips are smeared with his blood.

He’s not sure how long he drinks from Lucifer. He goes until his stomach starts to protest and Lucifer himself looks pale and unsteady. He’s stopped petting Sam’s hair to keep a hand against the cot, leaning heavily on it but never taking away his blood. Sam laps at his wrist gratefully before he pushes it away. It’s the reminder he’s needed for months of his own willpower.

Lucifer looks worse than he did when he arrived. There’s another wound blistering at the collar of his shirt. Sam reaches for him. Lucifer offers his wrist again, but Sam bypasses it, grasping his shoulder and drawing him close. Lucifer bows over Sam as Sam gently kisses the burns. He wishes that was enough to heal Lucifer.

“What’s the plan now?” Sam asks. He’s running on the strength of his high, but beneath it, he can still feel his body trying to shut him down and pass out. He resists of his own free will for a few moments longer in Lucifer’s presence. Lucifer smiles.

”That was the plan. I came to save you, and now I have.” Sam presses his lips against a scabbed-over sore. Lucifer is so beautiful. He’d almost forgotten that with only the pale imitation of his hallucination to look at. “I can bring you somewhere more comfortable to rest if you give me a minute to recover.”

”And after that?”

”I don’t know.” His eyes drift over to the desk on the opposite side of the room. It’s empty. It will remain empty. Sam can’t feel the whispering inside of his head that means the hallucination is about to come back. Even if it did, Lucifer has chased it off once.

“Stay with me,” Sam says. Lucifer looks back at him. He’s surprised, but with the offer given freely, he won’t deny himself what he needs. If Lucifer had a hard time existing without Sam when he had a purpose, as terrible an ends as the Apocalypse was, Sam can’t imagine he’d have any idea how to find his way in the world now without him.

And more importantly, Sam missed him.

”Okay,” Lucifer breathes, turning his head so that Sam’s next kiss presses to his mouth. It leaves his own blood on bottom lip, which Sam licks off. Then, he brushes another kiss to a burn on Lucifer’s chin. “They're only going to get worse,” Lucifer tells him. “I can’t heal them.”

“As long as we can figure out a way for your vessel to hold you, I don’t care.” He kisses another. This one is bleeding, and Sam doesn’t spare a thought to kissing it anyway. “Besides, I’ve got some new scars to show you, too.”

”Later,” Lucifer says. He lays Sam back down. Sam doesn’t resist. Not even the angel blood inside him can keep him conscious now. Lucifer lays his hand over Sam’s eyes. “I promise, when you wake up, it won’t be in this cell.” Sam chuckles weakly. The moment before he passes out, he remembers that Dean is going to return at some point. He opens his mouth to tell Lucifer to leave a note for him or something to let Dean knows that the devil’s (consensually) kidnapping his brother, but he’s gone before he can get a single word out.

[caffeinatedcursedcutie]

Fangs That Bite The Hand Part 1

Damien lifted up the trusty red cooler from the back passenger seat of his car, shutting the door behind him. He took a moment to take in the scene of the forest, interrupted by private officers and workers in protective gear, quite a few of them standing around as if waiting for something. With a wave to the crew that had followed him in the specialized blackout van, built to block out all sunlight and keep an undead safe on the way back to a hospital. The change of scenery from dull concrete and shining buildings was nice, greens and the scent of woodsy soil setting him into a decent mood. The cooler banged against below his knee in time with his steps, the bag hanging on his shoulders beating a similar beat, and he hummed under his breath. The wide concrete building was half overtaken by vegetation and moss, the giant hanger doors had been opened and a large team of people milled about like worker ants. One such ant, in an official looking uniform caught his attention, and quickly made his way to him. The portly man with a dark mustache lifted a hand flat to him, gesturing to him to stop. 

“You, you’re…”

“Damien Mathews, SPN official officer.” His hand went to his belt and he flipped a badge open, showing the government seal. “I was expecting a Men In Black thing. Sunglasses, snappy suits, mysterious stranger thing going on…” 

“Suits and uniforms can scare creatures in cases like this. Easier to keep it casual just in case.” He gestured down to his ragged old hoodie and jeans, not caring to also admit that the agency didn’t have a dress code and his laundry was currently a wrinkled pile on a chair in his apartment. “Right, well, let me catch you up to date.” With that, the portly man turned and started to walk with Damien towards the concrete and metal building. “Apparently you guys have been trying to track the people who ran this place for years, after huge advancements in scientific studies in injuries relating to vamps-” “Undead beings" is the official term. Vamp can be…derogatory.” He cut in shortly, running his free hand through his hair. “Uh…huh. Undead beings, medical advancements with serious, verifiable studies but with a source that was hidden. Someone started looking into it, coming to the conclusion that the scientists and doctors writing the studies were doing unethical experimentations. They start an investigation back in the day, and get close enough to get a hold of a doctor that was directly involved in it, but they scare the people running it, so they abandon the entire thing with one final piece missing. Where the actual lab is. Well, 14 years later, here we are.” He gestured up to the building, now towering above them and blotting out sunlight from where they stood.  “We were sent in to collect evidence, trying to file a massive lawsuit against every single doctor, scientist, and administrator that was involved in this mess. Well…evidence we found, but not without it grabbing hold of my guy and putting him in the hospital.” “Hm. Well, that’s what I’m here for. We’ll get the being out so you guys can continue the investigation.” As he walked into the vast, empty opening of the building, the scent of musk and mold made it feel like rotted cotton was stuffed up his nose, their footsteps echoing across the dimly lit room. 

14 years?!? Poor thing has got to be borderline out of it at this point. Hopefully I can get a name so I can stop calling it the being. A feeding and some help out of here, and we should be able to get them into the truck. 

The crew wasn’t kidding when they called it…a vault, the entrance that he had been led to could only be described as a bank vault, made with iron and kept shut with a huge rotating lock. The officer grabbed ahold of one of the spokes, and Damien was quick to shake off his surprise and lend a hand, grabbing another and rotating the heavy door with some force. The horrid smell of rot and decay grabbed ahold of his senses and the heavy door finally started to crack open. His nose wrinkled in response, it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar scent, but this was potent. They opened the door just a sliver, and then waited with bated breath for…something to happen. When nothing but deathly silence stayed in place, Damien moved to the sliver of an entrance. “You sure you’ve got this? That thing nearly got someone down already.” “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done this. They just need some food and some care. I know 14 years seems like a while, but time passes a little differently for an undead.” He said firmly, setting down the cooler and pushing the handle aside to open it. He paused, listening for a very faint scuttling. "Went on a trip to the old country for the rescue of one that had gotten sealed up in a well a few years back. Forty seven years, poor guy came out flying and crashed into a local house. A good meal, a shower, and sleeping for three weeks had him right as rain." He picked up a thin slice of raw, bloody venison. At this point, his breathing steadies, his heart starts to thump in his chest. This was always the most exciting part of his day, getting to make first contact and assess the problems with the being. He turned his body sideways to fit through the gap of the heavy door and the latch. 

Unsurprisingly, it was very dark in this chamber. He rapidly blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus on the shapes in this grey void, the suffocating smell of stale air and rot sat heavily in his chest. 

"Hi there." He said softly, taking a step. His own footsteps echoed, almost deafening against the still silence. "I'm not sure how lucid you are, but I've got this…" Damien lifted up the cold, slimy piece of meat to get the scent to linger. "And plenty more where it came from. I'm sure that's a lot better than being in here, right?" 

For a moment, doubt lingered in his mind. Had they let the being out accidentally? He took another step into the darkness, pressing against his eyes so deeply it was almost tangible. "Hello?"

A shattering scream tore through the silence, a body slamming into another and throwing it across the chamber.

[bronze-bell]

Aesop had moved the hat in the meantime, onto the nightstand, to obstruct Victor as little as possible. It wasn't immediately obvious to Frederick that Victor's vision had grown so blurry, but the visible signs of relaxation were telling of at least something. As Victor curled up, two hands rested on Victor's head, a reassurance as both others waited for the postman's eyes to close. Even if the two weren't physically here the next morning, hopefully the hazy memory of the night would be some comfort. Hopefully the knowledge of having another to confide in would help.

A wave of stillness washed over the group, waiting as Victor's breathing slowed and both Aesop and Frederick unsure if they should move until they knew Victor was fully asleep. Once the two slowly moved their hands away, the two came across some conundrums. For one, they had to get out, and as Frederick knew, that door was not locked in the slightest right now. And if either of them locked it from the inside, they'd be here all night. Aesop held a finger up, as if telling Frederick to wait, before reaching into the bag and removing one of the several door keys. A gesture made towards the letterbox into Victor's room told Frederick the plan, and he would whisper the other locations that he noticed, which he was very glad Aesop was in charge of taking. Even as he noticed Aesop glide his hand far too easily to take the keys Victor kept on his person, watched the hesitation for just a few seconds before removal, an expression of concern in the embalmer's brows.

Once the two had checked that they had as many keys as locks, the two had to fumble with each one to figure out which one would go where, sending each key into the letterbox with a soft metallic sound once it had successfully done its job. It was like some odd reverse robbery. Finally, all the keys were used, all the locks turned. Upon confirming a second time that they left no key behind, the two placed themselves at a distance, Frederick asking a hushed, "...So how much do you... know?"

"I can't say I know any reasons for it all, but... a few things." Aesop replied, trying to run over what he had seen and how it might connect to Victor's behavior as of just now. "He's scared of being seen as... imperfect, isn't he? Not to mention just how much I imagine he's seen..."

Frederick had to do a double take hearing that last sentence. His voice turned resigned, worried. "...you have no idea how correct you are." A pause, as he wondered how much he could disclose, while saying as little as possible at the same time. "I... can't say how, for his sake, but... if or when you do find out, don't tell a soul. For his sake more than yours."

...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Resting atop the keys the following morning is a letter, gray paper with a simple border, a yellow wax seal depicting a rose holding the letter shut. The handwriting is in a careful hand, the script written as if it were meant for this page with how it flows.)

To Victor Grantz:

I hope my appearance last night was not too stressful. I had my own late night duties, and happened to pass by. I did... freeze, when Frederick noticed me. With what was happening, I couldn't help but get somewhat curious. But we all know what that does to the cat, now, don't we?

As for the keys... we didn't know how else to make sure your door was locked through the night. Frederick seemed particularly concerned about this matter. I never got around to asking him why he found this matter so important, but with how many locks you have, maybe that has something to do with it. (Did we get them all?)

Frederick is... wary of telling me exactly what he's heard, but I've been informed you two have been in correspondence for a while. If last night was anything to go by, he's treating you with quite the care. I... aspire wish to do the same.

A. Carl

P.S. Those scars tell stories, I imagine. Perhaps those best kept to the grave.

Victor hadn't moved from his bed for quite a while after waking up, attempts to go back to dreaming thoroughly ruined by having to struggle against his own internal clock screaming at him to just wake up and start working already! His answer to that was no, initially, and he knew that the letters would get delivered by the manor's strangeness if he was not there for them, but the routine urge eventually got the best of him. As it always has, as it always will.

This, in turn, meant that he did not notice the letter until the window for being horribly unprofessionally late with his delivery must have been and gone hours ago. He nearly dives for it, not wanting to waste even more time, but the blood rushing from his head after snapping upright makes him really reconsider the sharp movement.

Instead, he walks over to it with cheerful, practiced steps to protect a facade that collapses immediately upon registering the fact that he has in fact been sent the letter, instead of it being some misplaced mail. Somehow, his late response now feels even worse.

Pocketing the keys left under the envelope in all the right slots of his outfit (though he should probably change their locations soon), he walks back to his bed with a more genuine rush of excitement, delicately opening the envelope despite his hands starting to shake from the pressure of the fact this might have some... Harsher words in store for him.

His sleepy, misplaced hope goes strangely unpunished, however, and he finds himself staring at the words slightly awestruck as they sink into his brain. He'll surely process it all in a moment, but first and foremost the letter is pretty.

It would be hard to even describe to someone who hasn't seen hundreds of them, but there's a certain warmth within the writing itself that shines through only with a poet's hand, or a loved one's, or apparently those belonging to Aesop Carl. The thing that has him so caught up in it though, is that it's all for him. All for his greedy eyes, and racing mind, and melting heart.

He wipes his eyes to stop his oncoming tears that threaten to ruin the paper, and wastes absolutely no time with his response.

[Dearest Aesop Carl,

It was quite honestly lovely to see you last night. It did startle me a little at the time, but out of anyone here, I am so glad it was you.

I am curious enough myself, do not worry. It seems that neither of you had taken a look into anything in here while I was asleep, which I am very grateful for. Thank you very much for locking the door for me, yes, all of them are here it would have made me anxious if it was unlocked throughout the night. Although I suppose you probably knew this already, you read me so easily it's like you're inside of my head...

I am glad that Frederick is so eager to keep my secrets, and I hope you will do the same for them. You seem to treat everyone with the utmost delicacy as well, so I do not have any doubts as of now that I can trust you, especially with your final point of the letter. You're so gentle with everything you touch, please take care of me the same w

Please be my friend.

Sincerely, Postman.

Ps: extremely sorry for the late response I got distracted by Wick]

Flowery envelope, soft paper, golden rose seal to match this one, and it's off from his workstation to Aesop's room, directly opposite his own. He presents the letter immediately when Aesop greets him, before walking back into his room and sitting behind the door in anticipation of the next letter delivered directly into his heart.