#tagging this as gore seems a little much but I'll throw it on there if people yell at me I'm sorry lol

[a2zillustration]

It was gonna make my backpack all nasty

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[serasfanfiction]

Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

[steviewashere]

Death Embraces You as I Kiss Your Skin

(also on ao3)

CW: Mild Cannibalism (Just Steve savoring a droplet of Eddie's blood), Major Character Death (They both die in the end), Unhappy Ending, Minor Religious Imagery, Canon Typical Blood/Gore

Rating: Mature!!!!

WC: 1,783

Tags: Secret Relationship, Breaking Obtuse Promises, Steve Asks That Eddie Doesn't Forgive Him, Vecna is Defeated, Grieving Steve Harrington, Loving Something That Death Can Touch

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Background Nancy Wheeler

------------------------- It goes like this:

Steve and Eddie have had a private—extremely private—relationship in the background between Steve and Nancy's breakup to 1986: The Spring Break Showdown. Kept secret even from Robin.

They've made plans. For the future. Things involving leaving Hawkins in the rearview mirror. Finding a quaint little apartment. Stuffing the rooms with furniture and decorations and clutter—more than Steve's ever been able to have in his childhood home. Making holiday meals and celebrating joint holidays, like Hanukkah and Christmas; Steve was raised catholic and Eddie's born into a Jewish family and it didn't make sense to either of them to erase histories. Going to schools or finding a band, working minimum wage jobs, coming home to each other's waiting arms. Getting kissed on the forehead and cuddles and something more when they get to the bedroom. Maybe adopting a few pets. Getting married, if America ever allows it. Having children. Retiring to California to enjoy the warm beach and cool, glistening ocean. Dying some days apart.

They've planned it all.

But, in comes March of 1986.

Steve's always known that Eddie's little "gig" of drug dealing was going to crumble to pieces sooner or later. Though, he didn't imagine it happening by means of him possibly killing Chrissy Cunningham. And, it may seem unfaithful, but for a very long while (knowing what he knows) Steve believes Eddie actually did. He's strong. Can carry upwards of 120 pounds on his own. And Steve's seen Chrissy—she's petite, easy to throw in the air at basketball games, flexible and maneuverable. So to believe Eddie could kill, that's less of a breech of trust, but more a welcome of pure and simple logic.

Dustin convinces him otherwise. Meaning that, Steve is forced to be on the lookout. Forced to bring supplies. Forced to find Eddie.

And they do, and that's great! However, it's relieving to see the fear in Eddie's eyes, well as relieving as vomiting profusely, nonstop, for days on end. To finally explain himself—the bruises and blood and loose nails alongside a weapon of a baseball bat and why Steve knows so many children. "It's unnerving, Stevie," Eddie had said, "That the nerds I attend school with are, somehow, in your social circle. Don't make me think you're a creep.” They had laughed.

So they band together. And they traverse the Upside Down. The heavy comfort of Eddie's denim laid across Steve's back. Eddie's closeness. His warm breath. But he tries to convince Steve to go back to Nancy, and not because of true love actions or whatever garbage he tries to say at first, but because Eddie thinks he won't make it out of this. "But you will, Eds," Steve promised, "I'll make sure of it."

He breaks that promise. Because of course he does.

The axe falls from his grip. Heavily to the ground. His hand burns from the tightness he held onto the handle. Palm a dull red, fingers aching. His body trembles, knees weak and legs like splintering tree trunks, ready to land sideways on the dusty, dirt ground. 

At his feet is Eddie's mangled, bleeding, cold corpse. Eyes glazed and far away. Mouth agape, lips parted enough for mumbles to fall through. Hair fanned around his head like the saint halo depicted on Saint Francis' portraits. Blood. There's so much blood.

Dustin's off to one of his sides. Mumbling and sobbing and dry heaving. Saying something like, "He was saving us. It was—He died for us."

And there's nothing in Steve's power that he can do to remedy the horror. He carefully shifts the necklace from around Eddie's neck to go above his tangle of hair, loosely fisted in Steve's hand, and passes the guitar pick off to Dustin.

"Get him through the portal," Steve tells Nancy and Robin, head jerking to Dustin. Voice short, firm, demanding. ”I’m going through with Eddie's body."

"Steve—" Robin calls out to him. His back is turned to them. Eyes wet and downwards at Eddie. "It's no use. He's just going to be extra weight. We need to make sure Lucas and Max are okay,” she attempts to persuade.

He stiffens. Shoulders hunching to his ears. "Then...Then—Nancy will drop me off at my house with Eddie first. You guys will check on the others. I can't do this right now."

"Steve, it's—There's no po—"

"Robin," he growls. He sighs through his nose and looks warily, though exhausted, though heartbroken over his shoulder. Ribs cracking under his skin, heart shriveling, stomach bursting with bile. She looks so devastated. She looks like she wants to reach out. She looks at Steve like he’s an untouchable, gravely injured dog. ”He was my everything," Steve whispers, "This is—I promised to make sure he'd be safe. He's everything to me. You have to understand that."

From where Steve can see, he takes in that Robin slumps defeated. She is no longer pleading, however. Rather, at a nasty fork in the conversation. Her eyes lock with his. No longer determined. Sad, though. Sympathetic. Her head jerks once in a nod of finality. "I'll make sure Nancy knows that there was a change in plans. I hold myself to that," she promises, devotes more like.

With nothing else to say, the words caught on Steve's forked tongue, he turns back to Eddie. Leaves his supplies adrift on the dirty ground. And kneels to his side. He's able to see the sinew of Eddie's insides. His moist muscle. His young bones. His tattoos, the ones Steve was present for. The ones he'll never get to trace again, when they're warm. When Eddie's skin is supple.

He lays his finger along Eddie's newest one. It wraps around the left side of his ribcage, hiding underneath his back. A dragon. One he drew himself. Scaly and long. Breathing fire. Fanged, sharp teeth. Steve thought it was the prettiest thing Eddie had ever sketched. He draws the tip of his finger around the large, left eyeball of the creature's face. It appears to be crying blood, Eddie's blood. The blood Steve promised to keep below the surface. In the moment, his tongue craves the intimacy of knowing Eddie's skin. Knowing who he is, his everything about him. Carefully, a still dewy drop of blood on his finger, Steve brings it to his chapped mouth. Laving the fluid. Savoring it around his wet insides. Feeling cohesive, congruent, melodized with Eddie's soul. But it’s enough, even if it never will be.

Steve is gentle when he lifts Eddie’s corpse. As if he’d simply fallen asleep. Like he does—used to—on the sofa. As if he’s being carried to bed. He’s heavier because of his clothes. Lighter, at the same time, because of the blood and the chewed holes in his skin. He’s mine, Steve laments, He was mine. Not the demobats’. Not Vecna’s. Nobody else’s but Steve’s.

It’s trouble, getting him through. Relying on Robin and Nancy to catch Eddie’s body. To lift him from the mattress and give him back what’s his. Steve can feel their eyes. Imploring. Burning into him.

In the back of the RV, he lays Eddie on the couch. Pets his hair. Runs his knuckles over Eddie’s right cheek. Kisses his forehead. And at his home, carries Eddie through the door, lays him out on his bed, and gazes.

He looks…peaceful, oddly. Satiated almost. Asleep.

The bandana wrapped around his head is still colored as if fresh from the wash. Steve takes it in his weak grasp and wipes away at the blood. At the dried spit at the corners of his mouth. He lays the now dirtied rag in his lap, hands stained a dark, deep red—different from when the axe was in his grip.

Steve doesn’t know what to do. To bury Eddie’s body would be like burying half of his soul. Leaving him to decompose would be a sorry fate, Steve wouldn’t be able to leave the room. He’d have to keep his body glued to the edge of his mattress as Eddie turns green and marbled and all to bones.

He thought he finally had it. The love he sought after since childhood. Something that rooted him to the soil and wrapped in tendrils over his naked body. And in a way, he surely did. Because Eddie doted. He loved with his whole body—in sex and hugging and simply holding hands and words so soft they get lost in the dark and kisses so gentle, Steve could cry. They planned. They promised a lifetime and a half to each other. But Steve would give Eddie everything, all of forever, the moon if only he could grab it with his bare hands.

Maybe it’s me, Steve ponders mournfully. Maybe it’s his body and his heart and his brain. It’s his voice in a quiet, dark room. It’s the way his eyes trace the rain on his window. Over naked bodies and how his fingers trace pubic hair and hip bones and scars from falling accidents. It’s him and him and him, it has to be. 

What fate is worse than death?

Loving him, apparently. To love and want love. To hold and cherish. To hunger with great need.

Steve cups Eddie’s uninjured cheek. “I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers brokenly. Throat twitching with his breath. It’s almost incredible how he’s managed to keep himself sewn together. And now, in a room he’s never favored, on a bed he’s shared with only two people, after a long strenuous night of near death impulses—he bursts, unravelling. He cries and cries. Softly and whimpering. Unable to keep his eyes open with the weight of his eyelids. The weight of all that this means. His future, dissipated. His love, lost. “Don’t forgive me,” he murmurs. His free hand wraps around Eddie’s. Palm cold. Fingers limp. Skin pale.

He thinks, at this moment, he finally understands the ending to Romeo & Juliet. 

If only. If only this were the play. And they were performing their parts.

Steve lays on his side, tucked under Eddie’s lifeless arm. Head cozied to his shoulder. His own wounds uncovered and bleeding onto his sheets. A hand on Eddie’s stilled stomach.

He never thought of a life after Eddie. He always thought he was going to die first. Considering his history. He thought it would be anticlimactic and beautiful all at once. He never thought Eddie was something that death could touch.

“My love, you were everything,” he whispers to…nobody.

But maybe, if it was only believable after all he’s seen and all he’s lost and all he couldn’t save, God delivers messages.

------------------------ First time writing an unhappy ending, oops. Hopefully this was good, though.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Rest Your Weary Hands Part 2

Part 1

Requests are open

Warnings: Gambling problems and taking advantage of a working child. Mild medical gore.

1,956 words

Comment if you want to be tagged.

Queen Aslaug walks into your little Healers store with one request, help her son. Said to be blessed by the gods, you find your life becoming more and more intertwined with the young prince as you do your best to ease his pain. It will soon be apparent that outside forces have other ideas.

"Ivar, I know you hate it but we have to keep going." Aslaug was getting sick of this, Ivar would not listen to her, and it was making her life miserable.

"It hurts Mother!" his tone was distressed but you had been clear, and if the last week or two had anything to show, you knew what you were doing.

Aslaug took a deep breath, and remembered what you said

If it gets to the point where Ivar can't take it, leave the cream on his skin for 15 minutes, then go back.

*************

"Is it still painful?" Aslaug was careful not to make Ivar feel weak.

"Not so much, it just feels hot." Thank the Gods.

It had been a few weeks since you had first started helping Ivar, you had yet to come and see him, telling her every time that you have very many orders to complete or that certain plants needed tending.

But it was coming up to winter, and the latest raid meant many of your customers were off looting, which meant no plants to care for and not enough people in need to justify being at the shop.

This time, you would come when she asked you.

"You are serving Ragnar's Sons now, why aren't you making more money?" Your Father was getting worse, he had started taking money right from the till.

"I told you Father, if I charge them more they'll find out and lock me away for stealing, and then you won't have any money." he seemed to take that, going into the back to get some bread you had made for your customers.

He spent the next ten minutes lazing around complaining. Then the Queen arrived.

One of her other Sons, Hvitserk was with her this time, he looked like he knew he was the prettiest thing in the room.

"Hello y/n." Your Father had changed in a heartbeat at The Queen's greeting.

"I don't believe we've met My Queen, I'm y/n's Father." his tone was kind and friendly.

She seemed unimpressed.

"No we haven't. No matter, winter is coming up and I will need your Daughter's services in person for the next few weeks."

Your Father looked like he was going to shove you out the door.

"Of course my Queen, she will be happy to help" you didn't look happy, but you knew your Father wouldn't give you the option.

"I will need to let people know where I'll be in case of an emergcy, I can't let other people get sick no matter who I'm treating."

The Queen seemed to be happy with that, then she was throwing a bag of coins at you.

Oh no

"I'll keep that safe for you until you get home y/n." Sure you will, you knew it would be all gone by the end of the week.

"Thank you Father, I'll close up before we leave, that way, you don't have to remember to cover anything if it starts to rain.

It had taken you about an hour to close up, Hvitserk was walking up to you as you locked the front door.

"You can ride on my horse if you like." What a smug ass.

"No thank you My Prince, I have my own horse."

************************************************************************

The ride to Kattegat was pleasant, it wasn't cold enough yet to need to rush inside so you got to enjoy the changing countryside.

You spent your time talking with Aslaug and Hvitserk about your work, The Queen listened well and asked complex questions, Hvitserk on the other hand, less so.

"Can you cook too?"

"Yes My Prince."

He gestured to the sword hanging on your saddle.

"Do you know how to use that?" There was no malice or condescension in his voice.

"Yes, My Prince. I work in a store filled with exotic and intoxicating herbs and spices, I've been robbed more times that I can count." He looked almost worried.

"They've never managed to take anything, don't worry."

You couldn't see it, but Aslaug was smiling.

*******************

Kattegat was amazing, there was the constant bustle of people and the ocean breeze carried the smells of the town through the air in a swirl of salt.

"I imagine I'll be staying in the inn?"

Aslaug didn't even look at you.

"No, you will be staying in the servent nook in Ivar's room. I had it set up for you this morning, the bed is comfortable enough and I made sure you would have plenty of furs."

I sleep on the floor at home so that's an upgrade.

"That way you can tend to Ivar whenever he needs it."

"You know Lady y/n, Ivar's room is right next to mine. Maybe you can come in and rub my feet." Hvitserk was incorrigible, it didn't seem he meant anything nasty by it, he was just clueless.

"You wouldn't like that, I'd have to find something wrong if you wanted me to stay. Do you want me to find something wrong with you?"

"Come now Hvitserk, she's going to be busy with your Brother, you shouldn't bother her." The Queen didn't miss the subtle dig you made at her son.

Be grateful you're healthy.

************************************************************************

"Clink slide, clink slide, clink slide, clink slide"

"Mother, are you back for your outting yet?"

You didn't have time to take in the Great Hall before you met Ivar which was a shame but he didn't stay long.

Ivar took one look at you and your trunk and turned and crawled away.

"I'm sorry, he can be a bit like that. He wasn't happy when I said you were coming for a visit." You could understand why, the last few weeks can't have been fun for him.

"It's ok My Queen, I'm sure he'll warm up."

The fact the Ivar didn't want you there made you question, why were you here?

"Why am I here if Ivar didn't request me?" You hoped you didn't sound accusatory.

"Ivar doesn't know what's best for him sometimes." the way she said it made you think she wasn't just talking about his legs.

*********

"Knock knock"

"Prince Ivar, I need to put my things away, may I come in?"

You hoped he would at least speak to you while you were here.

"No", you couldn't help him with this attitude, whether you understood it or not.

"That's ok, Prince Hvitserk offered me his room so I'll stay in there." The door was opened as you started to walk away.

You knew that would work.

"Fine, but don't bother me."

Ivar's room was nice, it was large enough that he could fit a four-person table and some chairs, there were trunks throughout the room and the floor was covered in more furs than normal.

"Mother has you in there" He gestured to the doorless doorway, through which was a small room with just a bed and a side table.

"Thank you My Prince."

The rest of the afternoon went well, and you managed to get Ivar to speak to you for more than a few sentences. Come dinner time, it seemed that you two would get along well.

"So you're Ivar's new nurse" You hadn't spent any time with Sigurd yet, he didn't come to the store like Ubbe and he didn't seem as charming as Hvitserk.

"Not really My Prince, I won't be staying here long so I don't think that qualifies me as Ivar's personal nurse."

Dinner was nice, it had been a long time since you had been able to sit down and eat a nice meal. Ivar didn't talk much and he spent most of his time glaring at you.

************************************************************************

It was late now, you were getting ready for bed when Aslaug came in.

"I was hoping you could do Ivar's legs tonight?" Ivar looked pissed.

"Mother, no. She'll just do it wrong." You sensed he was very used to getting his way.

"Well we'll have to see then" You were surprised at her sternness.

Ivar was laying in bed by the time everyone was ready to start, he had the blanket thrown over him and he was staring at you like he was looking through you.

You had a feeling he didn't want you touching or seeing his legs but there were no other option.

You picked up some things from your corner and sat down at the edge of the bed with Aslaug.

"I was thinking of trying a liquid oil this time, it will be a bit more messy but I think it will be easier to use in the long run"

Aslaug nodded along as you explained what was in it and how it worked, when she went to pull the blankets back, Ivar flinched and held on.

"Permit me to be frank My Queen." she pursed her lips but didn't say no.

"Ivar, your legs will not be the worst thing I've seen, last week I had to treat a man whose legs were rotting off his body. Unless you have cocks growing out of your knees you can't shock me."

Ivar went bright red, and Aslaug tried her best to stifle a giggle fit.

"Can I start?" Ivar gave one short nod and you pulled the blankets back.

Ivar looked so scared and ashamed.

"Oh, this is nothing. If one were 'normal' legs and ten were the legs of a rotten corpse you're a four, you're not even in the top twenty worst things I've seen" Ivar visibly relaxed but he still looked so sad.

"Please no stories, miss y/n, I don't think my stomach could take it. You were grateful for The Queen's interruption.

"Please tell me if I hurt you My Prince, this time around is meant to feel nice"

You start slow, rubbing his calves in long sweeping motions, Ivar was getting more and more comfortable. The Queen was looking at your hands intently, as if you'd suddenly sprout knives from your fingers.

Then she was looking around and getting up.

"I think I'll leave you to it, you seem to be doing a good job" You looked at her like a dear about to be shot by a hunter.

"Whatever Ivar's feels comfortable with is ok with me." But Alsaug didn't give her son the option, she was walking out the door before he got a word in.

"Can we try something with you feet on the ground? I'd like to what your kness are like." Ivar hesitated for a moment but pushed himself up and used his arms to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

"You're very strong Prince Ivar" you watched the muscles of his arms and back sift under his shirt.

That's a good sign

"Don't patronise me." his tone was short, he almost sounded a little hurt.

"I'm not, I can see how well built they are under your shirt. That's a good thing Ivar, it means you've already done some of the work yourself" you hoped you had soothed his worry a bit, judging by the way he was looking down at you, something you said had helped.

"Mother was right, you are beautiful." You felt the rush of blood to your face, you hoped he couldn't tell that you were flustered.

"Thank you, Prince Ivar, you're very sweet."

You spent the next twenty minutes feeling his knees and rubbing his legs, Ivar staring at you the whole time, it was as if he was trying to memorise every pore.

"Will that be all tonight, My Prince?" He gave you his hand to help you off the floor.

"Yes y/n, thank you."

"Great! Tomorrow the real work starts." Ivar's blue eyes went wide.

What the hell did you mean by that?

Part 3

I'm not really happy with this chapter, I tried to make their meeting feel more organic rather than dramatic

Tag list

@ladynightshade30 @katshuya @istorkyou @smears-and-spots @youbloodymadgenius @draculasbride-blog @profoundtyrantharmony @vikingsfranatic @hellie98 @localtrashopossum @polly-jayne

[bruhstories]

Bloodlust

Summary: You were a rookie Jashinist with a dark secret, he was a demented shinobi with a desire to slaughter anything and everything for his god. Pairing: Hidan x Fem!Reader (canon verse) Warnings & Content: dark content - minors dni, language, blood kink, kidnapping, murder, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, knives, human sacrifice, cult-like behaviour, religious fanatism, Reader and Hidan are... insane, slight gore. Word Count: 2.8 k

A/N: Read those tags carefully. Hidan's not exactly a warm and fuzzy character.

"Please, let me go... I won't tell anyone." You peeled your lips open, dry from all the crying and lack of hydration, hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead.

"Let you go? But... you came here willingly." He sneered, flashing you his teeth.

He was right. You joined the Jashinists thinking they were a liberal religion, preaching freedom and anarchy, but you did not expect sadism and human sacrifices. And you didn't expect to fall in love with Hidan — the most vile man you've ever encountered. Not that he knew that, anyway. He couldn't possibly fathom the idea that a sweet thing like you could love a man like him. But you weren't a saint.

"T-then why are you doing this to m-me?" You breathed, the ropes around your wrists cutting the blood circulation in your hands.

Hidan clicked his tongue and placed his scythe on the floor. "Because I can." He picked up a knife — no, a kunai. "And because you wanted to run away."

Ah, there it was. You decided to leave this cult when Hidan prompted you to kill some poor ninja he'd kidnapped a few days ago. You refused, expecting to be left alone, and now you were the sacrifice.

"I t-told you, I- I only kill those who deserve it."

"Everyone deserves it, Y/N. Especially traitors." Hidan traced the blade over your exposed abdomen, goosebumps dotting your skin and you were ashamed to admit that it made you feel... something.

"So, you're just g-going to kill m-me?"

"Don't be sad. You'll make a fine fucking sacrifice for Jashin."

"Please, Hidan, give m-me another c-chance." Tears pooled at your eyes. Death was not on your list, not now, and especially not at his hands.

"You know we don't give second chances." The blade was now between your tits, the tip slowly poking into your skin. Crimson droplets seeped from the fresh wound. It stung like a bitch, and it made you whimper, but the heat in your cunt signalled your arousal.

"You d-don't, but Jashin does." You whispered, and Hidan was completely taken aback.

"Excuse you?"

"Every t-time you failed to kill someone, hengave you another c-chance." You spat at him. "What m-makes you think he won't g-give me one?"

Confused wouldn't even begin to describe what he felt. Hidan blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the question before he dropped the kunai and left without a word.

You didn't know exactly how much time passed since he left. By this point you couldn't feel your fingers and the room began to spin, head dizzy from exhaustion. The door swung open and you shot your head up, startled by the sudden intrusion. Hidan walked in with a terrifying look on his face and bent down to grab the blade. He slashed the first rope and your hand fell limp by your hip.

"You're lucky he's a benevolent god." He slashed the second rope and your knees hit the cold, hard floor. Fear, happiness and anxiety coiled in your stomach, surprised that you have, indeed, been given a second chance.

"You talked to him?" You shook your wrists to get the blood flowing, eyes finding his.

"Yes, and surprisingly he likes you. Says you have potential." His voice went up an octave when uttering the last word in what seemed to be sarcasm.

Still on the floor, you arched a brow. "Do you doubt his judgement?" You suspected it was a mistake to ask that question, because in a split second Hidan yanked your hair and pulled your head back to look at him upside-down.

"I'll die before I doubt the good lord. Who I doubt is you." He pierced your soul with his sangria eyes, chills running down your spine, stopping in-between your thighs. You hated the effect he had over you, you hated that he was so oblivious to your hints, only focused on Jashin. Always Jashin.

Granted, Jashin did offer Hidan immortality, which was something you could only dream of. You were a pathetic civilian with a knack for medical jutsu, but never properly trained. He was a full-fledged shinobi who could snap your neck like a twig if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

But, the word of Jashin was law for Hidan. As much as he wanted to sacrifice you to his beloved god, he had to refrain himself, fearing punishment for his sins. And as much as he hated to admit it, you shared and valued the same goals of Jashinism — to a certain extent. You were down to slaughter people, but only those who deserved it, and apparently to Jashin that was enough. But not to Hidan. Never to Hidan.

"Jashin says I have potential, it's not up to you to talk back." You mustered up some courage after your wounds healed. That medical jutsu thing you practised for self-healing really came in handy when Hidan had violent outbursts and Kakuzu wasn't there to put him in his place. Shame you didn't know how to use it to heal others.

"Listen here, you little bitch, just because you've been pardoned now doesn't mean I'll hesitate to stab your tits when you disobey the lord." He let go of your hair and you leaned forward, palms on the floor to stop you from falling. "Besides, you're gonna have to prove yourself. Again."

You knew exactly what he meant. You had to kill. And Hidan wasn't one to let you off the hook — you'd have to kill someone innocent, and the idea of performing such a sacrifice made your stomach churn, it made you want to throw up, because you knew you'd enjoy it. Murdering someone deserving felt like a chore, like something natural. But the thought of killing someone undeserving made your heart flutter, your cunt burn and your head hazy with a high so addictive, no drug in the world could compare to it.

"Don't make me kill someone, please."

"Oh, spare me of your holier-than-thou bullshit. You either kill or be killed, Y/N. Now let's get to fucking work." Hidan bruised your arm in the process of 'helping' you up, unaware of the pleasant surprise that lurked within you. Because if he knew the real you, he'd probably question his own sanity — and that's something he'd never done. The real you was obscene, twisted and demented, long before you discovered Jashinism, but you tried to bury that part of you deep down. You seemingly succeeded, focusing your bloodlust on anarchy and overthrowing the Tsuchikage with a group of punk teenagers from your village, Iwagakure.

Until you met Hidan.

"I really don't want to do this." You pleaded with the silver-haired man, hands trembling and eyes watery.

"Kill him, Y/N." Hidan rolled his eyes, the blades of his scythe pressing into your back as you pressed your kunai into the victim's neck. "Kill him or I kill you."

"Alright, alright, I'll do it. But give me some space."

"Tch, pretentious bitch." He stepped aside, watching you carefully.

"More space." You demanded and he took another step back with an impatient look on his face.

"There's only one exit to this cave. If you think, for a fucking second, that you walk out of here alive you're wrong. Unless you kill him." Hidan licked his lips. "Jashin demands a sacrifice. Now."

You looked down at the symbol drawn with the victim's blood, then back at the man in front of you. His eyes were wide open and filled with tears, arms chained to then wall of the cave. He frantically shook his head, saliva dripping from his gag as he prayed for salvation.

"I'm so sorry." You spoke — not sorry for the victim, but for yourself and what you'd become after this day. Slender fingers lifted his chin upwards and with one swift movement, you slit open the skin, blood gushing out, spraying your face, neck and cleavage. "Fuck..." You moaned, the hot crimson liquid dripping down your chin.

"See, it wasn't so bad." Hidan elbowed you but you didn't move, instead, you gripped the blade handle tightly and drove it into the victim's abdomen, more blood spluttering on you when you removed it. "Oh, you want more?" The rogue shinobi quirked a brow, content with your choice. Adrenaline and arousal rushed through your veins and you dropped the kunai, the clanging echoing in the cave.

"Hidan..." You trailed off, tentatively unzipping your black cloak. "I want you to fuck me."

The silver-haired man watched you smear the blood over your exposed tits, his cock twitching in his pants. Finally, he realised just how beautiful you truly were, the pure ecstasy on your face igniting a flame in his core.

"Here?" He asked, somewhat surprised by your request.

"Yes, please." You turned around to face him, and the look on his face told you just how impressed he was.

"Now aren't you just so full of surprises? And here I thought you were just some goodie two-shoes who refused to harm people." Hidan removed his Akatsuki cloak, letting it fall to the ground, allowing you to see just how hard he was. You bit on your lower lip, the metallic taste was pure bliss in your mouth. "You filthy, disgusting whore." He sneered, his lips crushing yours in a shameful, euphoric kiss. The moment his tongue touched the blood in your mouth, his skin began to darken, his body linking with the victim's, meaning he hasn't died yet.

"Isn't he going to feel everything?" You pulled back from the kiss, but your voice wasn't in any way concerned about the man chained to the wall.

"Oh, he's going to feel it, alright." Hidan laughed, his hand pushing your head as you lowered yourself down your knees. Fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants and you pulled down both of the layers, his cock slapping your face. "Suck."

You obediently parted your lips, taking the velvety tip into your mouth, tongue swirling around it before you moved to his shaft. Hidan threw his head back, his fingers tangling in your hair as you bobbed your head back and forth, your moans music to his ears. The gurgling sounds coming from the victim told you that he, indeed, felt everything Hidan felt and your twisted mind enjoyed it so fucking much. You picked up the pace, earning grunts and growls from the rogue shinobi before he held your head in place, stuffing your mouth and throat with his thick cock until you dug your fingers in his thigh, desperately trying to breathe.

"Jashin was right to give you a second chance." Hidan released you and you gasped for air. "You're his gift for me."

The blood on your body dried out, but you were just as beautiful. You leaned on your back, spreading your legs for him. It was a smart decision not to wear anything underneath your cloak. The silver-haired man kneeled between your thighs, his hands bruising your skin with rough touches before he found your dripping cunt.

"Shit, Y/N, you're soaking wet." He shoved two fingers between your folds, curling them upwards. You squirmed and moaned, desperate for something bigger.

"S-skip the foreplay and fuck m-me!" You begged but Hidan wasn't one to listen. He thrusted his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way you thrashed and moaned his name, enjoying the way you arched your back with every movement.

"You're so beautiful." He confessed and you were caught off guard. It was the first time he ever said something nice to you, let alone compliment you. "You really are a sight for sore fucking eyes." Hidan removed his fingers but before you could say anything, he shoved them in your mouth. "Don't you taste like a needy slut?"

You nodded with lidded eyes, cheeks hollowed as you sucked the slick off of fingers. Hidan hovered over you, his cock grazing over your slit and aching clit, then kissed you with so much force and passion you almost couldn't breathe.

"Fuck, you taste good." He grabbed his shaft and pushed the tip painstakingly slowly between your folds. Oh, he was so much bigger than you expected, but you quickly got accustomed to his girth, mouth agape and eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"Shit- Hidan!" You bucked your hips, legs wrapping around his waist as he wrapped his calloused fingertips around your neck.

"Jashin damn it, you are so tight. You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

You shook your head, fingernails digging into his back and the victim gurgled again. Hidan released the grip from your neck, instead holding you by the hips and frenziedly pulling you onto his cock. It was sinful, degrading and demented, and his brutal, animalistic thrusts only turned you on more. The sound of skin against skin, growls and moans echoed in the cave, and soon enough Hidan's bone-like markings faded. You didn't care, he was still buried into your cunt, but the thrill of having your pussy obliterated next to a dying man dissipated, replaced by the pure lust Hidan radiated.

"Fuck, I'm-"

"No, you're not. Not until I fucking allow it." The silver-haired man pulled out and you cried, literal tears pooling at your eyes as you were on the brink of an orgasm. "You've been a bad, bad, girl, denying Jashin, denying slaughter, denying me." He gave your cunt a firm slap which vibrated through your entire body, ending with a whimper.

"Y-you have n-no idea how m-much I want you, Hidan." You squeezed your thighs together for a crumb or friction, but he forcefully pushed your knees to the sides.

"Then you should listen. See what a good job you've done today?" He tilted his head to the chained corpse.

"You d-don't understand... I've g-got an insatiable bloodlust." You admitted, but you knew he'd only be more intrigued.

"That's exactly why you've been drawn to Jashinism." Hidan flipped you over, and you were down on all fours. He pushed his cock back in you with one deep thrust, earning another moan out of you. "Embrace it, Y/N. You and I can do great things together, for him."

"But it's wrong." You whispered and you could feel his arm slithering around your neck, pulling you closer to him.

"And who told you that? Society? Your parents? Nah, I'll be your daddy from now on." His fat cock brushed against your cervix, your silken walls clenching around it as he fucked you harder. "You wanna come, don't you?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Yes, what?" Hidan tightened the grip, your back against his chest.

"Yes, daddy! Please, I want it, I want it!" You whimpered.

"And are you going to give Jashin everything he wants?"

It was decided — Hidan stripped you of any speck of humanity or rationality you had left in you. You loved him, after all, and he loved Jashin.

"Yes, I will! Jashin can have anything he wants as long as I have you."

"Good girl." He kissed your head before releasing your neck, hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. "Nowyou can come."

Your cunt was aching for release, and you mustered enough strength to rub your clit in messy, circular motions. Soon enough, you felt it coming — the rush of adrenaline as Hidan fucked into you, fingers pinching your sore nipples. You came on his cock with a soft moan and with one final, violent thrust he fills you up, cum dripping from your sloppy cunt as he pulls out. You rolled on your back, propping yourself on your elbows and Hidan froze, the sight of your used and abused pussy hypnotising him.

"Like what you see?" You grinned, fingers tentatively grazing over your slit, dipping between your folds before you brought them to your mouth to taste his seed.

"Shit, I think I'm in love." His sangria eyes bore into yours and your heart fluttered. You knew he was an asshole, and he probably only said it in the heat of the moment, but you were satisfied with what you got.

"What about him?"

"Meh, Kakuzu will take care of the mess. I wanna take a fucking bath." Hidan picked his red and black cloak up from the floor before getting up. "And I'm starving."

You pursed your lips and lowered your gaze. So much for being in love with you.

"You coming to the hot springs?"

"Me?"

"As much as I adore seeing you covered in blood, that shit's dry and crusty." He threw you your cloak.

"You wanna take a bath... with me?"

"Yes? The fuck are you acting so surprised? I just said I'm in love with you but you're surprised I wanna take a bath with you?"

"You know what, stop talking." You rolled your eyes and got up.

"I think the fuck not."

"Fuck's sake, Hidan, let's go."

"Fuckin' crazy bitch."

[babeyvenus]

Revival (BNHA OC)

Chapter 2: Learning Something New

Keeping herself hidden from her villainous father, and studying to be a hero for the sake of her and her deceased mother, Sunako Homura pushes her way through countless challenges in her highschool years. Will she lose it all, or lose herself?

Story Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance, Family/Comfort

Tags/Trigger Warnings: Gore/Blood, Suicidal attempts, Alcohol, Language, Panic Attacks

_______________________________________________

He glared at me on his way out. Douche.

"Homura, your costume is here.", Aizawa says, pulling out a suitcase labeled 21.

I grinned, taking the suitcase from him. "Thanks."

When everyone left, I made my way to a bathroom and changed. I huffed, staring at my reflection, smoothing out my suit. I walked out, finding my way to where everyone was waiting and they all turned to me.

"Wow, Homura! That's a pretty cool costume.", Uraraka says. "Thanks.", I said, looking down at hers. "Yours is cute."

She blushes. "C-cute...?"

"Don't you think it's a bit tight for a boy?", a smaller purple haired boy asks, looking me up and down.

"Can I kill him?", I hear Tatsuo ask in my head. No, behave.

I sweatdropped, backing away from him. “Mind your business.”

"Alright! It's time for your first task of the day!!", I hear All Might's voice booming. "Let's get on with it, you bunch of newbies!"

I can't believe I get to work as All Might's student....

"Your task of today will be Hero V. Villains. Team A will be Homura, Uraraka and Midoriya. Team B will be Todoroki, and Shoji. Team C will be Bakugou, and Iida. Team D, Ashido, and Aoyama. Team D, Sato and Koda. Team E, Kaminari, and Jirou. Team F, Tokoyami, and Asui. Team G, Hagakure and Sero, finally, Team H is Kirishima, and Ojiro.", All Might finishes.

We all look at our teammates with either smiles, looks of confusion or nods.

"Looks like we're working together, Homura!", Uraraka says. “Yeah.”, I mutter.

Midoriya walks up to me. "Are you ready, Homura?" I nod. "Yeah. By the way, that guy we're going up against... what's his problem?"

He grimaces. "It's kinda...it's a complicated thing. Kacchan's angry that I'm here."

"Kacchan...?", I asked, tilting my head a little in confusion. "Ohh, that's his nickname?", I asked, catching on. He nods. "Pretty much."

"Yeah, I still think Deku should be your hero name! I think it shows bravery!", Uraraka says, making Midoriya burst into a blushing mess. Deku…?

"In these lots, are the heros and the villains. The villains are supposed to have a weapon inside the building, endangering citizens and hostages in there. The heros are either supposed to evacuate the citizens or defeat the villains without having that weapon blow with the time ticking down. These two teams....." , he pulls out two balls. "Will go next!!"

A vs. C.....

I look over at Team C.

Bakugou glared past me toward Midoriya. What does he have against him....?

"Looks like we're going against him.", I whisper to Uraraka and I notice she's shaking. "Are you really scared of this guy...?"

"He does look intimidating with his costume...", she says.

I frown. There's nothing he can do against us if he wants to be a hero.

Team C walks past us and into the building. We found our way up a few steps of stairs and found a map to the rest of the building.

"We got the map, let's go.", I say.

We only got to the 2nd floor and Bakugou's already sent a surprise attack, sending us back. "Midoriya, Uraraka! You guys okay!?", I asked.

"He only grazed me.", Izuku responded.

I looked back at Bakugou, but his gaze was on Midoriya.

"Why're you dodging me, Deku....? Use that damn quirk.", he mutters.

"I knew I'd be his priority...", Midoriya mumbled.

"Damn straight!!", Bakugou threw a right punch toward him and Midoriya grabbed his arm.

"I won't let you hit me!!", Midoriya yelled and flipped Bakugou over.

Everyone stood in shock as Bakugou became winded.

"Kacchan... I'll never become your personal punching bag anymore.... I'm not the same weak Deku you know. I'm more than that! From now on, DEKU IS THE NAME OF A HERO!!"

Bakugou looked like he was about to blow. "You just pissed me off....", Bakugou mutters.

He stalks over to Midoriya. "Uraraka, Homura, get away from here!!", Midoriya yells.

Uraraka runs but I stay. "You're gonna need help. Uraraka can take care of that Iida guy."

He looks at me but dodges another attack from Bakugou.

"WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME!?", he yells.

"Dude, get a grip!", I yell and stomp the floor making the platform rise above him.

Midoriya drags me somewhere around the corner and continues running as Bakugou’s screaming sounds further away.

"Is this the plan now? We’re running!?", I ask.

"Not exactly. I need another plan now.", Midoriya says.

"QUIRK OR NO QUIRK, YOU'LL NEVER BEAT ME, DEKU!!!", I hear Bakugou roar behind us.

We kept running until we made it to the 4th floor and eventually took a break to breathe. I leaned on the wall, "Do you think we passed it up....? Uraraka's gotta be around here somewhere.", I say.

"I think she's already past us.", he says and starts muttering to himself.

I look around to hear faint footsteps. "Midoriya...."

He's still muttering.

"Mi-"

"Deku...."

I look up as Bakugou turns from around a corner.

"We're dead...", I say.

"Why don't you use your quirk, Deku...? You're looking down on me, aren't you...?", he sneers with an intense glare.

"W-what...?", Midoriya whispers and shakes his head. "I'm not afraid of you anymore, Kacchan!"

Bakugou frowns and holds his hand out to us.

"As your stalking ass may know, my sweat is what powers up my quirk. My sweat is made of nitroglycerin.", he explains.

Is that why I was smelling burnt caramel....?

"These grenade gauntlets are holding the very thing that makes my regular attacks seem small.", he says grinning. "If I were to...you know...pull the pin on one of these...", he reaches for the pin on the gauntlet.

"You'd be stupid. Were you not listening earlier? I’d only absorb it.", I exclaim.

He only grins. "If you can dodge it, you'll live!!", he says, pulling it.

I pull Midoriya behind me as I start absorbing the heat.

Bakugou's frown deepens.

I swallow the rest of the blast and grin. "I told you. That was useless, but thanks for the meal."

"Homura, that was amazing!", Midoriya boasts.

"Good thinking and defense, Young Homura!", I hear All Might .

The only bad thing about it, that blast was huge. I'm already full.

"I need to let the blast go. I'm full.", I whisper to Midoriya, rubbing my stomach.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!", Bakugou yells, and stomps.

We both look at him in shock.

"The fuck is going on!?", he yells and stomps again.

"Use your quirk, Deku!! Stop holding back!!", he yells.

"What's the status, Uraraka...?", Midoriya whispers into the earpiece.

"I got to the weapon and Iida's really getting into this role.", she replies.

"So is Bakugou.", I say.

"Uragh!! Fuck it!! Let's just fight!!", Bakugou yells running towards us.

I get into a defensive stance as he runs to Midoriya.

I'm not his priority...I gotta stop him from trying to kill Midoriya.

He thrashed against me as he managed to get me off his back. I pulled at his shirt as he dragged me.

"Damn you!! Get the fuck off me!!", he yells at me and drags me with him.

He's a weapon even without his quirk. Just how powerful is this guy!?

I dug my feet into the floor attempting and hoping to slow him down. "How's it going up there, Uraraka!?!", I call into the earpiece.

"I still need a little help!", she replies.

Bakugou grabs me by my collar and slams me down, taking the wind out of me.

I roll into my side, "This is bad,” I groan. “Midoriya, run!!", I yell and Bakugou kicks me off to the side.

"Run all you want, Deku!! I'll find you and I'll crush you!!", Bakugou yells with a creepy smile.

"Dude's got problems...", I mutter, getting up and running towards him, sending a drop kick, but he grabs my foot and slams me down again.

Midoriya, you had better come up with a plan!!

I used the explosion he practically fed me and shot it near his feet.

He looks at me and shouts at the roof. "All Might, that's unfair!! I can't use my explosions, but he can throw one right back!?"

"I had to let it out, idiot!!"

Bakugou growls and runs toward Midoriya, leaps over him, grabbing Midoriya by one arm. "Here's your favorite move, Deku!! Your favorite right swing!!", Bakugou yells swinging him around.

"Don't you ever forget what you are!!", he declares, slamming him down. "You're a weakling!!"

Midoriya gets up, shakily. "Why won't you use your damned quirk, Deku!? You like looking down on me, don't you!? You have been ever since we were kids!!"

They've known each other that long...?

"You're wrong....," Midoriya whispers. "You're an idiot!! I know that you're better than me, so that's why I wanna beat you!! Because you're amazing!!"

"COME AT ME, YOU DAMN NERD!!!"

I gotta do something....! They'll kill each other!!

"STOP IT!!"

The mixture of Bakugou's power and Midoriya's power combined was enough to get Uraraka to the weapon...

"....what...?"

I collapse, getting crushed under some of the debris. "This was all I could do....", the last thing I could hear before passing out.

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

"You're finally awake!", I heard a female's voice and looked up to see an old woman hovering over me, her lips puckered.

"You're.... Recovery Girl...", I mutter, looking at her attire, then looked up at the ceiling.

"What happened....?"

"You were crushed under the debris of the practice building. Luckily you had a sprained arm and it should be healed by now, due to your amazing recovery rate.", she explains.

"How'd I get here...?", I rasped, and widened my eyes looking down at my wrapped up arm.

"A student carried you here. Don't worry, I won’t tell anyone.”, she gave me a knowing smile, gesturing to my wrapped chest. “I won’t pry or tell. Also, Midoriya is doing just fine.", she says.

I let out a breath of relief that I never knew I was holding and got up to leave.

"Thank you.", I say and leave the room.

I was about to head home until I heard yelling outside.

"It was given to me!! No matter what, I couldn't tell anyone! I know it sounds like it came out of a comic book, but I'm serious.", I see Midoriya yelling at Bakugou, looking at the ground.

"I still can't fully control it...it's just a borrowed power!"

What....?

"I'm nowhere near strong....! But still.... I'll make it my power. Then, I'll surpass you.", he says.

"What....?", Bakugou whispers.

"What the hell is that....? 'Borrowed power'.....? I don't understand. Did you really come over here spouting some bullshit.....? To make a bigger fool of me...!? Huh!? Even if you're not....so what!?!", Bakugou yells.

"Today you beat me, you shit nerd!! That's all there is to it!! What more do you need!?", he grips his head.

"And, get a look at that fuckin' ice creep! There was no way I could've stood up to that!! That ponytailed bitch was right, I was fuckin' reckless!! Fuck!!", he drops his hand and I faintly see sparkles in his eyes.

"Damnit! Dammit!! Dammit!!! NEXT TIME, IT WON'T HAPPEN! I'LL BEAT YOU!! I'LL BECOME THE BEST! I'LL BE NUMBER ONE!! YOU GOT THAT!? I'M JUST GETTING STARTED!!", with that he walks away rubbing his face with his arm.

I sigh and frown. This is ridiculous, even for him.

"He's acting like a complete child. It was nothing more than a test, not some competition.", Tomohiro says, in my mind.

Midoriya sighs.

I hear fast footsteps behind me, making me move out the way.

"BA-KU-GOU! I FOUND YOU!", All Might exclaims with a smile, clasping his hands on Bakugou's shoulders.

I snickered and jumped over the wall outside the school gates, and leaned on it.

"Self confidence is a very powerful thing, my boy! There's no way you couldn't be fitting for a hero.", All Might says.

If he keeps going the way he's going, there's no way pros will accept him.

"Get off me, All Might. I can't walk. And let me make this clear for you too.", Bakugou says. "I'll be more powerful than you, too. I'll get past you."

.....what...?

"O-okay...", All Might says.

I heard Bakugou's footsteps as he turned to the left and walked far enough from the gates and turned over his shoulder a little, glaring at me. "You. Fight me."

The fuck, dude....?

I walked up to him. "Didn't you have enough from earlier....?"

His glare only intensified.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Alright. Where, so I can get this over with."

"The beach. Meet me there no later than 7.", he said and started walking off. Rude, bossy and arrogant. A whole package.

I walked his way and I saw his shoulders getting tense by the second.

"Why the fuck are you following me!?", he turned to me and yelled.

I stopped. "I go down this way, moron."

He scoffs. "Whatever.".

"How was the first day, kid?" Shura asks as I walk in. She gasps seeing my bandaged face.

I just groaned. "There's a guy that wants to brawl again."

She sits up. "Really? Wait, again!?"

I nod and walk upstairs to my room.

I got dressed in my black windbreaker and red joggers, running a hand through my hair, letting out another exasperated sigh.

I understand that it was none of my business....but what the hell....?

Tatsuo appears and sits on my bed, the creaking mattress giving under his weight. "You sure you wanna go fight? You'd be exposing yourself."

I shrugged. "I mean it's whatever. I'm not the one with the problem."

He crossed his arms. "You also don't have to do this."

I give him a nod. "I know. But what's the harm in doing a little sparring?"

_______________________________________________

A/N: My first taglist, yay! Also I hate this chapter but I feel like the other chapters will be a little better so I'm meh.

@dakotacecily @xartisticmdx @savnofilter @mci-writing (just in case you guys are bored 🥺) @weird-dere @moonfairy-h @afuckingunicornn

[sienna-writes]

Butterfly Blood // update 1

woo! first writing update on this WIP so far! (Finally!!). Since I don't want to include huge spoilers on this book, as I might one day end up publishing (who knows), I will be splitting these posts into chatting about my process, character development, edits etc. and then include extracts that aren't too spoilery! I think it'll be okay for the first sections of the book, especially as alot of the first few chapters is character building and imagery to set the scene, tone and atmosphere.

Also, the working title of "Bleeding Out" that I HATED with a PASSION is finally gone! My novel is now called Butterfly Blood based on a excerpt way in the future of the story. (Which I'm very excited to share c: )

I wrote the prologue after I’d finished the first chapter, to introduce the book and it’s mystery in a more captivating way than it had initially been introduced.

Frog finds himself underground in the middle of a forest with no knowledge of his surrounds, his past, or his identity. He clings to one certainty, that he is and was raised by frogs. (This book is a bit wack, just roll with it.)

As he crawls into the middle of the road, a truck starts hurtling toward him and careens off the road last minute. The driver drops down and searches for for Frog, but cannot find anyone.

There is no blood, no screaming, no mangled man wailing on the ground. Reluctantly, the driver withdraws from the dark and locks himself in the enclosed cabin of his truck, steadying his breathing.

As the exhaust sputters to life again, and tires tug against the initial friction of the gravel, the disappearance twists the driver’s thoughts.

His passenger clings with sticky tree frog palms to the trucks stomach; well-oiled organs huffing heat and fumes onto his face.

So this book actually began with a very horribly written chapter. The structure was a mess and for some reason I kept bombarding the reader with information about my main character Rowan and really pushing forward the idea that she’s an energetic person... Which was stiff and just poor writing, honestly. (Also, I've changed my ideas since about how I want to characterise her.) But out of the 3000 word (approx) start, there were salvageable aspects, and those went into the first chapter along with a lot more fleshing out of the scenes, setting and character. I also finally decided on a tense and perspective after being super inconsistent with it and unable to make my mind up.

But! We got there in the end, I just thought I’d share my struggle since writing is not a perfect process and there is a lot of rearranging, and sometimes it feels like pulling teeth.

The premise of this chapter is to set the scene of Blackerwick (a fictional, dreary british seaside town), introduce Rowan (our main character), and the complex relationship with her father, who has become insular over the past month before the story starts.

—excerpts;

A little world building and set up!

Everything about the sleepy town Rowan’s family had moved to is soaked in a distinct achromatic despondency. Inland residents slumped and slogged in their routines, never caring to change them, almost afraid of living. It had confused Rowan at first when she’d come here from Ireland at fourteen, how much the dull town contrasted its landscape. It seemed undeserving of such beauty; a tall mountain range to the left of Blackerwick, and beyond it a city; wide stretches of moors headed toward the forests, and beyond the forests—the ocean. It was as if all the world’s natural beauties had congregated here millions of years ago as the earth slid into place, waiting for settlers to enjoy it. They didn’t even seem to notice.

    Fading out of view behind her, a mangle of dark rooftops mesh amongst each other, a severe contrast to the pallidly painted house fronts, and chimneys slice into the sky, puffing endlessly on their pipes.

Hot air is exhaled from the horizon, tugging striking, unruly orange hair from her heavy ponytail as it whistles past her face. She closes her eyes peacefully against the feverish winds, her clothes buffeting and pounding as if fighting it off. Grinning, she leans toward the sea, trusting its breath to hold her weight.

In the course of this chapter Rowan has had an altercation with her teacher and gotten a detention, pushed through the forests toward the beach, and now is returning home. She rouses her dad’s attention by feigning a headache, because he doesn’t bother with her unless he sees she is in pain etc. Now for some quality mild gore!

    Turning, she leans in to hug him when she realises there’s blood gushing from her nose.

    “Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! Not again!” Rowan scoops shaking hands to her nose, tacky blood spilling over her fingertips. “Dad, Dad!”

    He is already on it, tipping her head back into his cupped palm, holding tissues tightly to her nose. She wheezes and sputters, the world spinning as she lurches toward the sink, clinging to the draining board to keep her balance. Everything red, the four walls of the kitchen, red. Her blurring vision, red. Everything bleeding like her gums beneath grinding teeth as she bites down on the impulse to say something. She wants to scream, or throw up, head swimming as her world tilts upside down. Her skull rests in her father’s strong palm, a fleshy safety net.

Wash your mouth out with soap, ma’am. 

I was considering having Rowan not swear around her father, but her mother is pretty aggressive and her dad (Karmen) swears regularly, so it doesn’t seem too outrageous anymore. (I could never, my mum would flip).

When the bleeding slows finally, and her chin closes in on her neck again she notices her father’s shirt is covered with dried, grubby gore. It looks like he is bleeding out from a deep gash notched into his chest. His heart clawed savagely from its dwelling. 

Karmen being a worried dad is best dad;

     “You said not again.” He says finally, as she gathers herself, filling glass after glass with water and gulping hungrily, throat tilted toward the sky.

    “I’ve been getting more than usual recently.” She replies nonchalantly.

    “That’s shouldn’t be normal.” He says.

     Rowan shrugs, “I’ve always been prone to bleeding and bruising.” As if to defend herself or prove her case, she pulls down her jeans slightly, revealing a black contusion on her hip. It fades into swarthy purple and blue; a gradient discolouring her pale freckled skin; a deep ink blot, as if the flesh had been punctured with a fountain pen.

    Her dad hisses sharply. “How did you do that? I told you not to go into those woods anymore!”

Ok! Enough blood! I really made nosebleeds overly dramatic lol.

Anywho!

the first 2000 ish words of this chapter follow Frog (he's later named Mint), and let me tell you, his perspective came so naturally, and was such an interesting world view to write in. I'm not saying i like him, but I enjoy writing him for sure.

This chapter was initially 2100 words and I intended it to be a brief introduction of mint, but I merged it with the next one because I thought they joined together nicely. The other aspects of this chapter introduce more of the friend group (honestly the only relevent characters within this group are Damian and Jamie, the rest are low-key assholes) and set up later events.

—excerpts;

Mint is wandering in the forest, and hunting.

He slinks into step with the deer as it rises, shaking his head as it shakes its placid mane. Serenity slices the air in two.

     Frog strikes.

    The blade almost glitters in the air as it shoots toward the limpid animal’s vulnerable throat, veins pulsing beneath frosty, translucent fur. Incorporeal beast. A surreptitious streak in the night, headfirst, embedding with a gurgle and a coarse, barbaric scream. Deer’s aren't meant to sound like this. Like a human, like something capable of feeling and hurting. Frog wriggles the blade out of its fleshy sheath and exhales into a whistle. He looks gleefully at the drowned grass damp with blood. Gushing over his squirming toes.

      Its crown tumbles to the soil, antlers embedding deep into the foliage at Frogs feet. He sits beside Stag on the floor laden with pine needles--wreathing its glazed face like christ’s crown-- and strokes the un-bloodied fur of its forehead, holding its unblinking, waxy glare. Frog is the victor.

Frog/Mint is hunting! He kills a stag! Then he brutally dissects it;

      Peeling away at the thick membrane enshrouding Stag's skull, with tender interest, Frog carves muscle and fat from its head, pellucid and opaline, dropping the pale crumbs of carcass onto the ground. The deer’s dense ghost is not yet cold in his crimson tinted hands. 

Rowan feeling numb, because oh boy us writers like to see our characters in pain;

The water is scalding. Rowan breaks out in goose bumps. Catching her reflection in the rippling bathwater she almost doesn’t recognise herself. Flushed, pale cheeks. All sharp edges, cheekbones slicing beneath the eyes, graceful slanting nose scooping down into a slight point. Her lips protrude from her face, full and large, accommodating an easy smile. Rowan pulls her downturned lips into a small grin. The constructed happiness blurs in the water. Holding her breath, she leans into the baths hot grip, filling with her fiery hair.

    The silence smudges in her ears.

I also wrote some banter-y dialogues but I think I'll share them another time... After they've been edited.... a heck ton... There's an over exaggerated smoking description in this chap too but I've shared that before heh :)

I hope you enjoyed this LONG overdue chapter update! So far there are 7 chapters, so I have a lot of updating to catch up on! :)

I don’t have a tag list at the moment, but if you’re interested in this wip and want to be on it, then please send me an ask or a comment and I’ll add you :)

Tag list, ask to be added or removed;

@alicewestwater @elaz-ivero @coffeeandcalligraphy @hanwatchingmovies @sirfitzroys @chloeswords @nev-953

[liaswritesrobots]

Far From Home Chapter 3

Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Gore, Violence, Threats of Violence

Characters: Overlord, Sunder, Froid

Other Tags: Unrequited love, Canon Divergent, Alternate Universe, Reader Insert, Gender Neutral Pronouns, Xeno, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Threats of Violence, Violence, Gore, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentioned PTSD, Implied Abuse, Implied Voyeurism, Swearing, Character Death, Forced Relationship, Pining, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 1,896

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

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Once inside the records room you guide Sunder to a table. It has a datapad on it, you figure that must be the inmate files. He lifts a hand for you to walk onto and puts you down on the table. You rush over to the datapad and start swiping around.

“These are in Cybertronian too.”

“Do they have pictures?”

“Yes. And numbers that I can actually read, thank God.”

“Those must be the cell numbers.”

He begins to describe what Froid looks like to you as you swipe through the prisoners mugshots and information, “He is tall and slender, he has very long arms that go below his knee joints and a long blue fin on his head. He's white, blue, and yellow with yellow optics and an odd mouthpiece that is round with slits.”

“Found him! Looks like he's in cell 1881.”

“Floor 18? That is below this one. The first two numbers are the floor’s numbers and I remember a guard saying my holding cell was 1975.”

“Oh good, we just have to find some stairs th-”

“Someone is coming.” He cuts you off and turns his attention to the door.

Your body goes stiff. You already know he's found you. Sunder picks you back up and puts you back on his shoulder as he faces the door.

“Are there any other exits in this room?”

You look around for another door or windows or anything, “No.” You can feel your stomach drop.

“Then we will make one.” Sunder turns his back to the door and you help him make his way forward to the wall. He punches the wall, making a large dent in it. He punches it a couple of more times until a small hole is made in the middle.

The door slides open with a thunderous screech, startling you. Overlord stands in the doorway obstructing the light from the hall, it illuminates his outline and casts a large, menacing shadow towards the two of you.

“Hello darling,” his large red eyes softly, narrowing at the sight of you, “you've had quite an adventure today, but don't worry my love, I'm here to bring you back to the ship so we can be on our way.”

“No!” You shout, gripping tight to Sunder’s shoulder.

“Tsk tsk, throwing a tantrum are we? And it seems you've made yourself a new friend as well.”

Sunder swings around, barring his large teeth in a horrifying grin, the shadows cast on him make him look much scarier than before.

“You! You reek of sin!”

“My, how rude. True, I may not have one saintly screw in my frame but I still have feelings.” Overlord's tone is dramatic and sarcastic.

“You smell of death and blood and murder. Some new, some old. Fresh with the last words and screams of the dying and damned. You are destruction! You are chaos in its purest form! You leave nothing but pain and sorrow in your wake!”

“Flattery isn't going to do much good after insulting me. Now, if you don't mind I'll be taking my human back.” Overlord points his blaster cannon at Sunder, “If you hand them to me now I'll make sure your death is quick and almost painless.”

“Sunder please don't!” Your voice is shakey, as if you're going to cry.

“Do not fear, little one. Even Pain and Chaos and Destruction must fall. No one thing is immune to Death and it's Herald.”

“Ah so you want to do this the hard way. So be it. Y/n, my dearest, hold on tight, you're about to have a nasty fall.”

Overlord fires and you scream for Sunder to jump out of the way as you hold on tight to him and bury your face in his shoulder. He steps to the right away from the blast just in the nick of time. The blast hits the wall Sunder was punching and makes the hole large enough to escape through. You tell him and Sunder charges through the hole as you hang on for dear life with Overlord right behind you two. You warn him of anything as you've been doing and try to keep an eye on Overlord as well. You notice he hasn't fired a shot, he must be afraid that he might accidentally hit you in this commotion.

“Find stairs!” Sunder growls out.

You can hear Overlord running behind you, yelling taunts at you and threats and curses at Sunder. You two turn a corner and you squint to a door at the end of the hallway.

“That looks like an elevator at the end of the hall!” 

You guide him to the door as he picks up the pace. You reach the door and Sunder takes you in his hand, you tell him where to lower you and with quick thinking press the up arrow.

The door doesn't open.

“Darling I am sick of this game! Come home!” Overlord shouts from the end of the hall. He has his gun, slapping it against his hand in an impatient manner.

“The door won't open.” Panic laces your voice and you frantically press the up button.

“Hold on.” Sunder puts you back on his shoulder and begins to pry the door open. He rips it open, no elevator in sight.

“Come now dear, aren't you tired of running?” You can hear Overlord getting closer. You dare not look.

“The elevator isn't here, I don't think it's working!” 

“Then we use the cables.” 

Sunder steps forward and turns back, gripping the door to close it behind you two. Once he does this it's dark, but you feel him grip the elevator cables and slide down at an alarming pace, it's taking everything in you not to scream as you tighten your grip on Sunder and close your eyes. The velocity is enough to blow your hair up and you feel like you two are going to keep going until you fall to your deaths. Then, it stops, and you hear the crunching of another door being pried open. You look up and see a hallway that's empty, no robot blood or gore in sight. Did Overlord not reach this floor yet?

“I hear other bots.” Sunder alerts you and you realize that if Overlord didn't come this way yet then the guards may not know he's in the building yet.

“Do you see any numbers?”

He steps out of the elevator shaft and you look to the left and right and see some doors with numbers beside them, “Yeah.”

“Which ones?”

“1899 on the left and 1898 on the right.”

“Then we have a ways to go. I will tell you when I hear guards and you can help me find a place to hide us.”

“Ok.”

He starts to walk down the hall when an alarm suddenly goes off and lights start flashing red. It's so loud that you cover your ears and close your eyes. 

“Is it guards?” You ask, not aware of how loud your tone is to drown out the alarm.

“Yes and no.”

You open your eyes again to see a few guards down the hall running towards you two with guns as doors begin to slide open, releasing inmates.

“Oh my dear, you thought you could trick me into thinking you went up when you left the prisoner files on a mech on the floor below?” Overlord's voice booms over the prison's intercom, “I'm almost sad that you think I'd fall for such a trick.”

The guards at the end of the hall begin firing at inmates that leave their cells but are quickly overtaken by them. The inmates begin beating them and ripping limbs off. Your heart beats rapidly at the horror in front of you as Sunder gets closer.

“What are you doing?! There's too many!” 

“We do not have to fight them yet, just pass through.”

“Inmates of Garrus 6, I, Overlord, have freed you all from your cells, but I've locked all windows and exits because only few of you will leave this prison alive!”

The inmates freeze and look at each other, they seem to know exactly who Overlord is.

“I am looking for a small organic creature known as a human. Bring them to me on the top floor and I will let you leave. I will also allow anyone who brings me the Autobot known as Sunder safe passage as well.”

You can almost feel your blood run cold at the declaration.

“Ok, we may have to fight them.” Sunder says, “But don't worry, as long as they make sound I know where they are.”

“Sunder is big, red, black, brown and grey and doesn't have optics so he will be easy enough for you numbskulls to spot. He likely has my human with him. Do not hurt them. Hurt them and I will make sure you have the slowest and most pain filled death in history. You may hurt Sunder but do not kill him. I get that privilege. Good luck, you'll need it.”

Just as Overlord finishes his speech the mob of bots begin searching among themselves for Sunder. Sunder takes you from his shoulder and sets you on the floor before standing straight up again. You run over to the wall and notice a two bots charging down the hall towards Sunder.

“Go. Find Froid. He will likely have my optics. Bring him back here and return my eyes to me.”

“But how are you gonna take them all if you can't see?” He can hear the concern in your voice, something he hasn't heard from anyone in a long time.

“I can hear them. I know where they are. Now hurry.”

You start to rush down the hall and notice even more bots running towards Sunder. So many have noticed him but none of them seem to have noticed you. You keep going, body pressed to the wall to stay out from under the bot's feet. You look back and see Sunder fling a bot into the wall opposite of yours. So many are surrounding him as he smacks and punches them away. They begin to over power him, beating him with fists and kicking him. You want to run back and help but you know there's nothing you can do to an enemy that size. Instead you take off down the hall as fast as you can, looking for Froid. 

You see more bots on the way as you turn down a corner, it looks like inmates and guards having a power struggle. You avoid them as you keep running along, glancing at door numbers as you pass by. 1884, 1883, 1882, finally! You reach cell 1881!

But it's empty.

“No!” You slink down and start crying into your hands. Did he get taken? What if an inmate killed him? What will you do now? And what about Sunder? You know there's nothing you can do to help him escape. You feel hopeless and lost.

“You must be a human.” A gentle and curious voice says from behind you, “The one Overlord is looking for I presume?”

You look back to see a tall, lanky bot standing over you. He appears to be holding some kind of sky blue beads in one of his hands that are attached to the longest arms you've ever seen.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Chapter 3: Keep Moving

Summary of fic: Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the value with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after lating waste to nearly everything in their wake. Virgil and Roman, Society escapees and hunters run into an uncertain future while fleeing from their pasts. Remy and Remus stare their only chance straight in the face as they teeter on the edge of reluctant adventure. Emile is left his cousins engineering palace and is given the tools to change the world. Logan, a lone researcher and outcast is found by an old friend who offers him a chance of the century. Hyden (deciet), can shift into anything he so chooses, but staying true to his form as his heritage slaps him sideways proves harder than he thought. Patton mourns the loss of his son as he slowly uncovers secrets he wishes aren't related.

Or less wordy:

Eight idiots with trust issues fumble around each other and try to save the world from killer mechanical beasts and fairies that will snap your neck without taking their hands from their wine glasses.

Warnings: Violence, fight scenes, dark fantasy, apocalypse setting, some gore, blood

Warnings for this chapter: none. Though as always if you see something that should be tagged please say something.

Ships: Remy (sleep) x Remus. Brotherly Roman and Virgil. Platonic Logan and Hyden (Deciet)

The spacious barn creaked lazily as the sounds of swearing and hammering overflowed its weather worn walls. It had been repurposed years ago, the old owners either long dead or moved out once the forest began to take over. As it was now it had been cleared of the twisting roots and oddly growing branches that had once threatened to consume it completely, now standing in a small clearing with a house beside it sitting just as pristine. The barn, though repaired, leaned slightly to the side, braced on an extension that housed a lab of sorts with one other room branching out that acted as cold storage.

The main room itself was currently where loud banging could be heard with the occasional swear sprinkled in as the owner tried valiantly to seperate pieces of plate metal from the skull of a fallen beast, eyes vacant and jaw slack as it sat on the table surrounded by already disassembled parts of itself scattered about and repurposed to varying degrees. Jars of different colored oily substances sat on a cart nearby, with empty ones still waiting to be filled. The hammer was thrown down suddenly, its owners pointed ears twitching in irritation as he dragged a hand down his face and took a breath. Sighing loudly, Logan turned and stalked off to the other end of the room to get a crow bar off the rack in hopes that his new method would work.

As he began trying to pry between plates he felt more than heard the halting footsteps outside the barn, though who it was was clearly trying his best to be quiet. Rolling his eyes Logan slammed the crowbar in a weak spot and pulled hard enough to bend the plate and send the bar snapping back to narrowly miss his face. He scowled as sweat dripped into his eyes, rolling his shoulders and gripping the tool with a white knuckled grip.

"It truly is a wonder you haven't killed yourself yet. To think of all that education going to waste with a cracked skull in an old barn, it's almost enough to make me care to check in more."

"The only reason you come in here is because I'm the only thing within a hundred mile radius who doesn't wish you dead on sight."

"How you wound me. It's at least two hundred when I'm far enough away from the coast." Logan smirked as he heard the irritated tap of the others cane punctuating his statement.

Sighing, he placed the crowbar on the bench and turned to face the intruder, leaning against it while crossing his arms. "Hyden."

"Logan." The other greeted mutually. Though he was typically a bit more put together his thick caplet lay crookedly across his tense shoulders, arms taunt as he leaned heavily on his cane with both hands resting on the top. His long hair curled in the afternoon humidy and Logan definitely didn't miss the slight furrow of his brows, though he knew he would be loathe to admit he was in any sort of pain.

Letting out a heavier sigh Logan pushed away from the bench and gestured for the other to follow him. "Join me, I need a break anyway."

Hyden gasped. "The head scientist admitting he needs a break? Who's hand do I need to shake for downloading an once of self preservation into that thick skull?"

"I'll have you know I take breaks on a regular basis, something you clearly need to be reminded of."

"The audacity! I walk all the way here to visit a long time friend-"

"You walked?" Logan shot him a sharp glance as he held the door, gesturing the other into the old farmhouse.

Waving away the concern, Hyden continued. "I flew most of the way don't worry. I only ducked below the treeline the last few miles so I wouldn't be followed, you're welcome for the concern and forethought."

Snorting, Logan pulled out a chair and moved to collect containers of herbs and thr kettle, sighing for the fourth time as it was blatantly ignored for the refrigerator. As the kettle heated he carefully measured out the proper ingrediants, glancing over every now and again to try and catch what his guest was poking at.

"Are those by any chance agorose gels?"

Walking past the fridge to put things away he caught sight of what the other was observing, humming his confirmation.

"Logan, why do you have DNA gels next to leftover chicken salad in your refrigerator?"

"The chicken salad seems irrelevant." The kettle whistled to give him an excuse to avoid the question, carefully pouring out the boiling water.

"Logan."

"Hyden." The name slipped out easily despite his annoyance, making him wonder for a brief moment if he would struggle when he was finally told his real name.

The mans cane taps were heavier than normal as he made his way over to the table and flopped down without his usual show. Giving Loagn a quiet thank you he proceeded to wrap his hands around the steaming mug, frowning in concentration. "Are you trying to find them again?"

"I fail to comprehend what you could possibly-"

"Because they're trying to find you. And they're getting close."

Logan was quiet as he sat, his wrapped hands folding somewhat painfully around his own drink. Pursing his lips he avoided looking at Hyden for a long moment, nevertheless feeling his gaze attempting to pick him apart. Arranging his expression to be carefully neutral he took a drink, smiling as the other did so as well.

"Make sure to drink all of it, it'll help with pain."

"Did you even listen to what I said?!" Throwing his hands up in exasperation he fixed Logan with his best glare.

"Hard not to with that grating tone."

"Well this grating tone," he growled out. "Is telling you to get your head out of your ass and maybe make sure you're safe before telling someone else to take care of themselves."

Logan dragged a hand down his face, suddenly tired. "Where exactly do you expect me to go? I'm so close to figuring out what they're using to power those things, if I move now I won't have any access to the equipment I need, no studies will be concluded, and nearly all of my experiments will be left behind to rot! I need more time."

"Time isn't exactly a luxury here. You're being stubborn and ignorant, as usual, and if you would just listen-" he stopped short as he caught the look the other was giving him, letting out a breath of defeat and softening his tone. "It doesn't have to be today. But it does have to be soon. I'll even come with you, help you scout out a new location if you'd like. I'm sure there's plenty to be found with a little digging."

Mugs empty save for the dregs silence rang between them as they lost themselves in thought. Distantly Logan was aware of the old grandfather clock ticking, suddenly thinking what a shame it would be to leave the sound behind. He knew the other was right even before he fully decided to voice it. Instead he quietly looked over at him, the scales that freckled his face gleaming with the last rays of the evening sunlight. If they were truly leaving, they would have to be careful. Though he knew Hyden was loathe to do so he could easily shift his appearance to hide his scales. Logan wouldn't be so lucky, his slightly off colored skin and pointed ears a dead give away to what his heritage was, even if he had defected from it when the war broke out. He was obviously fae, and that would do him no favors outside of the protection of his remote location.

But he really couldn't stay. If the guard was truly zeroing in on his location he would much rather abandon his research and try to pick it up wherever he could than even think about getting caught and wondering whether he could escape before he was undoubtedly punished for his crimes against his people. He shuddered uneasily as he stood, carefully avoiding eye contact as he took the mugs to the sink and began to wash them. He stared out the window towards the treeline as he did, having to squint to make out the weak protective barrier set around the perimeter by Hyden years ago. Beyond that lay dense forest only a madman would dare trek through.

Or fae guards with strict orders.

Squaring his shoulders before they could droop in defeat he turned to face his companion with a level stare.

"Give me two days."

-------

"Two more days? I thought the town was closer than that." Virgil irritably kicked a stone into the water, splattering the bottom of Roman's pants. They huffed in response, their frustration easily matching Virgil's as they shifted the pack on their shoulders.

"I said at most two more days, it might be sooner than that. We've never really been this far out before, which is a good thing but it means guessing the distance. Pouting isn't going to make it be any closer."

"Not pouting." Virgil pouted, crossing his arms before realizing what he was doing and angrily shoving them in his hoodie pockets.

Snorting with amusement Roman shifted the pack again before grunting and heaving it up and off their shoulder, immediately sagging in relief. Their burden was lifted further as Virgil tugged it out of their grasp and shouldered it easily, walking ahead while adjusting to the weight.

"Thank you."

"You were slowing us down. Somebody's gotta make sure we stay on schedule."

Roman squawked with indignation, jogging a bit to catch up with the emos longer gait. Their mouth thinned as they thought of how to bring up a concern they'd been thinking about for a while, gripping the straps of their pack tightly in apprehension.

"Alright. Spill it." They blinked as Virgil stopped, dropping both the packs and plopping down in the dirt.

"What?"

"Being anxious is my job and right now you're forcing me into unemployment. So either talk or I'm throwing you in the river."

"You do and I'm eating the last two cans of spaghettios tonight while you get nothing but croutons."

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "I fucking dare you to go through with that threat. You do not come between a man and the last can of shitty microwave pasta."

"I have the food pack."

"And I have the flint and steel so start talking before I decide to set you on fire instead of drowning you."

Unceremoniously flopping to the ground they let out an annoyed huff while shrugging off the back pack. "Fine. I've been thinking....that with this next town..maaaaybe finding another person or two to travel with would be in our best interests?"

The last half of the thought came out rushed and nearly incomprehensible but Roman could tell Virgil had heard them clearly as his face adopted a carefully neutral expression, hands twisting tightly in his lap.

"Roman..."

"I know! I know, I definitely get it. But, it would be easier to carry supplies and we could have more! We wouldn't have to stop in towns so much-"

"Roman."

"And it might be safer! More people means more weapons means more protection right?"

"Roman."

They shut their mouth in worry at the defeated tone Virgil had adopted. He twisted his hands tighter, hesitant to continue now that he actually could.

"Am I not....do you not feel safe enough with me?"

Roman sucked in a breath as they realized how Virgil had taken their concerns, rushing to try and fix it. "It's definitely not that! I-Virgil I'm so sorry that isn't what I meant at all!"

They leaned forward and began gently detangling his fingers from each other, holding them tightly once they finally managed it. "Anx it isn't like that. I honestly worry that you aren't safe enough with me. And once our load gets heavier with trading supplies we slow down and it never seems like we're on the road long enough before what little supplies we can carry run out. It was only a thought I wanted to discuss, not an attack on your skill as a fighter."

Their eyes met Virgil's and they breathed a sigh of relief when they were met with understanding, nonetheless continuing to rub soothing circles across his knuckles until he pulled away.

"I guess..." he glanced over at the near overflowing pack of trading goods. "I guess I can see that yeah. But I don't-Roman how can we trust anyone?"

"We probably can't. But we'll look anyway and if we don't find anyone then we don't find anyone. Just, keep an open mind?"

Crossing his arms Virgil looked away to stare out at the water instead, face drawn with apprehension. After a minute he ducked his head in defeat, nodding slowly and standing up. "Yeah. We'll keep a look out. But if we do find someone and after a while they start to act shady we drop them alright? No debate."

"No debate." Roman readily agreed as they stood as well. They began walking again, the silence much less tense than it had been all afternoon. Grinning a bit, Roman smacked their lips in thought. "With that delay it might be two and a half days now."

"Oh come on!"

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