#[ nuisance 1 - orange ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qwimchii · 2 years ago

Note

Could I request a fanfic where reader has an aversion of men (due to trauma) and her coping mechanism is to regard men as an "it" so she can get through day to day. When she's assigned to work alongside Task Force 141, she tends to get the most along with Ghost because it's easier to talk to him due to his mask and also simply because he's not very chatty and touchy. And through her time working alongside him, she falls in love?

If requests are closed please disregard this! I love your writing, thank you!

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 1) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.3k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, (𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭) 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪��𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺(𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰), 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 :(

note: im so sorry for taking so long on this anon!!!! but i loved the idea so much that i ended up making this a multipart series in honor of friday oct 13 & halloween.... 🤭 also i know that you requested her to be on the 141 task force but i ended up amending that a bit so i hope that's alright?? anyways enjoy lovies!

you walked down the sidewalk, a pool of cold sweat collecting at your back. it was freezing outside—the midst of a fall unfurling across the landscape, orange leaves crunching underfoot as you approached the church looming in the distance. the glare of a car’s lights illuminated the white structure as it passed.

we’re adding a new person to the support group, Kate had texted into the groupchat a few hours before the meeting. Sarah had added a bunch of flowery heart emojis after it, saying how excited she would be to meet the new person.

the dread continued to drip down your back in a sweat.

in response, you had texted back a flat: why?

you knew what you were doing was considered plain mean.

you checked your phone again, the glare of it burning your eyes in the darkness. still no response to your text—no doubt purposeful on Kate’s part.

but this support group had become…

you strode through the church parking lot, shivering, and walked up a set of concrete steps, swinging the heavy, brass knuckled entrance open.

…special to you.

as you entered the familiar chapel, the old musk of the building a comforting scent now, you adjusted to the dim, warm light dispersed overhead before moving towards the basement steps.

your aversion of men wasn’t foreign to your closest friends and family. you knew it was a nuisance to them, but your past betrayed you, and sometimes, on the darkest nights like this, you could feel the tendrils of your trauma clutching at you.

you used to go to church with your father too. now, you would avoid any church like the plague, save for this one.

you made your way down the steps to the basement—the musk of mold and age drifting through the place.

the girls in your support group had become much more than just a kind word. they were your friends. they accepted your strange quirks without so much as the bat of an eye.

adding a newcomer… complicated things. things like closing yourself off again, getting jittery and nervous every time you even spoke in front of the group, overwhelming you to the point of quitting entirely.

it had happened three times already but Kate had coaxed you back every time someone new joined. eventually, you had come to accept each of them. but it was no less difficult.

passing through the long, carpeted hallway, miscellaneous boxes here and there, you neared a familiar wooden double-door.

Kate rounded the corner on the far side of the hallway and gave you an easy, but tired, smile. she was holding some papers as she strode up to you.

“hey honey,” she called, patting your cheek gently in greeting when she neared you. “you’re early.”

you shrugged. “i’m always early.”

to these meetings at least, you didn’t voice, you wouldn’t miss them for the world.

Kate swallowed, then nodded, brushing back the strands of blonde wisps that fell into her eyes. “i know.”

you cocked your brow. she was acting strange—avoiding your eyes, and swallowing up words she wasn’t saying.

“Kate,” you said, tongue feeling heavy, “what’s this new person thing about?”

she bit her lip, finally meeting your eyes. “apparently, the newcomer has a habit of being early too.”

your brows rose. “yeah? let me meet them—”

your hand itched towards the knob of the door, but Kate stepped in front of you, blocking your way to the entrance.

your eyes were narrowed now. shifting on your feet, you tried to doge the petite woman, but she swatted at you, side stepping so that her back was flush with the door now.

“what are you doing?” you asked with an amused huff, bewildered by her strange behavior.

“is the newcomer a bit of an oddball?” you offered, your brow furrowing when she tilted her head.

“not exactly.”

you nodded slowly, trying your absolute best to appear optimistic with an indifferent shrug. “s’fine to me. we’re all a bit strange.”

definitely strange, that voice in you sang. you tried not to feel offended by your own mind.

Kate’s head dropped, breathing out a long and heavy sigh, before her blue eyes were on yours again. “just… don’t run away.”

“she can’t be that bad can she?” you asked with a laugh, a new muddled swirl of something dark and alarming pooling in your stomach.

Kate shrugged and that made you really nervous. she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside, disappearing from sight into the meeting room.

you stood there for a good moment, fumbling with your hands before, and you made it halfway through the doorway before—

you saw a man.

you stopped short. he was huge—muscular, no doubt, under several layers of black attire, body dwarfing the folding chair he was sitting on. half of his face was shrouded by a black surgical mask, hood drawn up, the cords of his earbuds trailing into the pocket of his black sweatshirt where his hands were shoved into.

immediately, you slammed the door shut.

turning on your heel and making your way back down the hall, you only hurried when you heard the door fling open behind you and quick footsteps following that.

“wait!” Kate called, and you covered your hands with your ears.

apparently, Kate was faster than you, because her hand was grabbing a fistful of your clothes before you knew it, and you reeled on her, seething, “i’m not going in there.”

apparently Kate was stronger than you, too, because she started half-dragging you back down the hallway and hissing through gritted teeth, “like hell you have a choice!”

“no—don’t want to—!”

by the time she had dragged you all the way back down the hallway, your shoes desperately scrambling against the carpet, panting with exertion, you had accepted defeat.

she still loosely clutched at the collar of your shirt, for fear that you may run again, and you swatted her hand away, fixing the wrinkles of your clothes as she brushed back her hair with a deep scowl and closed eyes.

when she gave you a side long look full of bitterness, your face scrunched, sending her the nastiest expression you could muster, hands balled into fists.

she completely ignored you, jerking her head in the direction of the open doors. “go.”

it wasn’t a request.

you bit down on your tongue hard, and with the most dramatic sigh you could muster, you sulked into the room, completely ignoring the man sitting within a circle of chairs.

Kate tutted behind you, half-pushing you out of the way to the desks shoved into the corner of the room. you trailed after her, watching her set down the now crumpled papers, smooth them out, stuff them into cardboard boxes, and then reorganize the boxes.

you searched for the words.

“you didn’t tell me that person was…”

a man.

you looked back over to the hulking man leaning back in the rickety, tin folding chair. it creaked under his weight, and he cocked his head, eyes shut like he was sleeping. you didn’t really care if he heard you or not.

rather immaturely, you rephrased the sentence. “you didn’t tell me it was—”

Kate shot you a look that immediately shut you up. “anyone can come to our support groups, missy. you know that.”

you rolled your eyes. you knew that. but still.

“but…” you couldn’t find the words to say.

she sighed out, moving the box of papers to an adjacent desk. “and i thought this would be a good thing,” she grumbled.

your eyes snapped to her the back of her blonde head, a keen suspicion brewing in your throat. “good thing?”

she turned back to you, hand on her hip. “yeah. a good thing.”

it was a deadpan.

“honey, you’ve been in this group the longest, and we’ve been struggling with this i hate men thing since the beginning.”

you flinched. ouch.

she was right but that didn't make it any easier to come to terms with, and luckily for you, you were stubborn as hell.

“so?” you said with a shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

“see?” she said, gesturing to your stiff posture, “you’re getting defensive.”

you blinked. “no i’m not.”

she let out a laugh but it was mirthless—more of a frustrated huff. “since you’ve been here the longest, i’m gonna need you to do something for me, honey.”

your voice was strained. “do what?”

she pointed to the man, whose eyes were still closed, and hissed at you in a half-whisper, “you’re going to talk to him first, introduce yourself, get his name and occupation, and then you’re gonna introduce him to the rest of the group yourself.”

your skin crawled with disgust at the idea. Kate always did introductions. not you.

you stepped forward, opening your mouth to protest but—

she held up a hand in your face and skirted around you. “no. i don’t care what you have to say. this is how we improve, honey.”

you know that she wanted to say you.

you stood stock still behind the desk, seething, clenching and unclenching your fists as you heard Kate disappear from the room. leaving you alone with that thing.

turning on your heel, you jolted when the man’s gaze was already on you, half-lidded and piercing. his eyes had a dark, grayish film to them—brown with a murky depth.

it took everything in you not to snap at him to look away.

sighing out with exasperation, you rolled your shoulders and neck, and took stiff strides towards him. you hesitated mid-stride when he lazily looked away, seeming like he was just going to try and ignore you. that irked you even more.

you stood right in front of him so he couldn’t look anywhere else. you saw the furrow of his brow, the snap of his eyes up to yours in a hard glare, and felt a pleasant curl of satisfaction soothe you.

“hi,” you said, voice rough, as you shoved your hands back into your pockets.

he shifted in his chair, tilting his head back at you, taking you in fully. you wanted to slap that look off his face.

arrogant asshole.

his accent was thick and grating. “hi.”

after a long moment of tense silence, his eyes narrowed. “you got a name?”

you gave him a sweet smile. “nope. yours?”

his brows rose slightly, something playful flashing in his dark eyes.

you cringed. was he smiling?

that was not your intent.

“Simon Riley,” he said curt, “but i prefer Ghost.”

you ignored him, scratching at your neck, ready to get this over with. “right, Simon, welcome to the support group. i guess.”

he stared at you. “thanks.”

suddenly, his gaze felt too heavy and awkward on you. something dark and miry drenched your heart, tugging it down with a weight. it felt unfamiliar and strange. something bordering on regret or guilt.

fumbling with your hands, you stepped back and found a chair on the very opposite side of the circle. the very opposite side.

his eyes were still locked onto you, and you crossed your arms, looking anywhere but him, the carpeted floor, the peeling posters plastered with religious slogans on the wall, Kate’s desk, the entrance of the room where Sarah and Maya stepped in.

seeing them was like a release, and that ugly thing weighing down your heart was lifted. Sarah gave you a beaming smile, waving enthusiastically with a loud greeting. Maya trailed behind, giving you a soft, shy smile.

both of them edged around Simon and flanked your sides in the seats.

you watched her glance to Simon, eyes wide, then looking back at you. there was something like apprehension in her face.

she mouthed, is this the new person?

you glanced to him. he was barely registering the other two girls in the room, eyes untrained and looking somewhere else, black boots crossing over each other.

with a bitter feeling, you nodded at Sarah and she clutched at her mouth, sharing a look with Maya who was perfectly undisturbed by the newcomer’s presence.

Sarah, being Sarah, sat up straighter in her seat and leaned forward, waving a hand to get Simon’s attention.

“hi,” she called with a soft voice, smiling big. “i’m Sarah.”

Simon dipped his head politely. “nice to meet you.”

you scowled. where were his manners before?

though, you thought meekly, you hadn’t really showed your best manners either.

sighing out, you watched Sarah and Maya launch into a conversation with him that you refused to join, withering into your chair. all his responses were polite, curt, and bordering on uninterested.

“what are you listening to?” Maya asked in that soft angelic tone of hers, and Simon took out his earbuds.

“smashing pumpkins.”

Sarah gasped, gesturing to your face with a wild hand that almost knocked against your chin. “that’s her favorite band!”

Simon’s gaze snapped to you, and you felt like puking.

fumbling for words, you protested in a tone too strong. “no it’s not.”

Sarah gave you a confused look. “but we went to their concert last summer remember? in las vegas?”

oh you remembered. you specifically remembered because their band was getting old and their farewell tour felt like a looming threat in the near future. you remembered because you wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

but you couldn’t say that so instead you said, “no, my favorite band is… is…”

you glanced at Maya’s curious expression.

“taylor swift,” you shot out.

you grimaced. that’s not even a band.

Maya cocked her head. “no, taylor swift is my favorite singer.” she gave you a knowing look. “and you love the smashing pumpkins.”

she turned to Simon. “she even has posters in her room.”

you groaned out, slumping further down into your chair and wanting to disintegrate on the spot as Maya continued to talk about your avid love for smashing pumpkins. but Simon’s gaze was pinned on you. it didn’t even look like he was listening.

you pretended you were invisible for the rest of the conversation until the rest of the girls had trickled into the room, watching with a curling disgust at the sight of them fawning over Simon and his alluring presence. he seemed indifferent enough to their attention.

not like you cared.

the circle slowly filled till Kate took the last spot.

she had a stack of papers on her lap, smoothing over them with that tight-lipped smile of hers as she started the meeting.

her words were flying through your ears. words you didn’t really want to hear as you tugged on the hem of your hoodie, slumped over in your chair.

you didn’t hear her calling your name either.

Sarah knocked her foot against yours and you shot up in your seat, flushing when you noticed everyone’s attention on you.

your eyes darted around the room, feeling hyper aware of Simon’s blank, bored stare sweeping down your body.

“hi,” Kate said in a sweet tone, leaned forward in her seat, though her face was laced through and through with that burning exasperation that you were too familiar with.

“since you were the first to acquaint yourself with our guest,” she said, gesturing with a polite hand to that big masked thing on a chair, “we would love for you to introduce the new member to us.”

shifting to sit further up in your chair, you swallowed, voice falling flat and dead. “sure. this is Simon. he’s uhh…”

you took him in and all his hulking demeanor. “an accountant.”

his eyes flashed with that same look as before—something playful that really pissed you off.

Sarah snorted and Kate just smiled, though it was wholly devoid of warmth, and you resisted shivering. “right. i’ll do it then.”

she looked around the circle slowly. “this is Simon Riley. he’s in the military. i met him a couple years back.”

your eyes snapped to Kate’s, a whole new sense of betrayal swelling in your chest. she had already known him and wanted you to introduce him anyway?

“traitor,” you grumbled under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

the girls, in a chorus, sang out a hi Simon, a couple of them giggling, poking at each other. you noticed Maya blushing beside you and rolled your eyes.

was he really that attractive?

he just nodded, with a very low, “hello,” and sat up properly, drawing back his hood.

there was a light tussle of blonde hair on his head, shaved down at the sides and hanging down his forehead.

you bit your tongue, looking away. maybe he was.

“welcome Simon,” Kate said with a gentle smile, “i’m glad you decided to come.”

there was something knowing in her gaze when Simon’s eyes darted to hers that had a new curiosity perk up in you.

you watched the whole interaction with narrowed eyes.

just how well did they know each other?

as Kate dished out the upcoming schedule for the group, your gaze burned into his face. his eyes, trained on Kate, made you jolt when they flicked to you.

he slowly tilted his head, eyes narrowing a smidge. you frowned deeply, and in a stubborn haze, met his piercing gaze with one of equal stature. after a long moment, he huffed, a weird breathy sound, eyes flashing again, and looked away, and the moment you shared was gone.

you shifted in your seat, blinking, feeling strange and light.

what the hell was that?

you looked around, seeing if anyone else noticed. when you were sure no one had, you scolded yourself.

no fraternizing with the enemy, you chided, shifting your attention back to Kate who was listing off the predetermined pairs for the fall session. Kate always claimed that she pulled the pair choices out of a hat. the fact that you had never been paired with Maya or Sarah for a single season left you questioning that.

besides that, many of the sessions required getting one-on-one quality time with other group members through predetermined partners and different activities, even outside of group meetings. the fall session was always the busiest, preparing for upcoming events with weekly meetings.

it was something unique to your group which you wholly appreciated.

your gaze flitted to Simon.

except for when there’s newcomers.

“finally, you,” Kate nodded her head to you with a bitter tone, which made you wince, although you knew guessed you deserved it, “and Simon.”

what?

“what?” you croaked, and you visibly saw the girls in the room shift with discomfort, gazes avoiding you.

they had seen your immature outbursts before about newcomers. you were not afraid to show them again.

Kate gave you a very nasty sidelong look. “don’t start.”

you bit your tongue so hard you think it almost bled.

Maya’s hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, looking a bit crestfallen at the conclusion designated pairs, and in the sweetest tone you could muster, you offered, “what about Maya?”

her head whipped to you, jaw dropping open and a flush on her cheeks. you sent her a weak, apologetic look, sneaking a hand over to hers but she just smacked it away.

Simon only laxed back into his chair, blinking slowly like he was about to fall asleep, gaze flitting lazily between you and the bashful girl beside you. when his eyes lingered on her, you truely, utterly, wished with every fiber of your being that Simon had been paired with Maya instead.

Kate just ignored you, sorting through papers to find the next one that she read aloud. more on the upcoming fall activities that you would be helping the church with.

usually you’d be ecstatic.

but when your gaze fell on Simon, lazy, hulking, and donned in black, he cocked his head at you, eyes swirling. then, he put his earbuds back in, eyes sliding shut.

you jerked your hood up over your head and sulked.

this was going to be the worst few weeks yet.

okayyyy soooo i wanted to make these chapters shorter and ive already prepared quite a few so i'll be posting every 1-2 days for this series leading up to halloween!!!! im so excited 🤭 i hope you guys enjoyed this first silly part <3 more silly parts to come!

taglist: @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

2K notes · View notes

gguk-n · 1 year ago

Text

From Pitches to Podium (Oscar Piastri x Indian Cricketer!Reader)

This idea came to me after I saw Pat Cummins at the British GP. No face claim. All the pictures are from Pinterest or Instagram

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by 1378 others

y/n.y/l/n Ever since I was a little girl playing street cricket, I had dreamt of this. Dreams really do come true. Can't wait to lead the best team to more victories. Thank you for believing in me!!😭😭💙💙

user 1 Congrtulations. You're a great team player, you'll be a good leader👊👊 user 2 Can't wait to see you as the captain y/l/n🥹🥹

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by 13,869 others tagged oscarpiastri

y/n.y/l/n I had told myself that I would behave like a professional but I can't; not when Oscar Jack Piastri just won his first F1 race (It might have been a sprint but idc) Congratulations Oscar!!😭😭🥹🥹🧡🧡🧡

user 3 I thought this was a Oscar fan account, turns out she's the captain of India's women's cricket team 🤣🤣🤣 user 4 Congratulations Oscar!!🧡🧡 user 5 Hope to see you win like I saw Oscar won!!😪❤️❤️ bff/user you are a PR nuisance!! How does your coach and manager deal with you? 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

oscarpiastri

Liked by y/n.y/l/n, mclaren and 240,250 others

oscarpiastri Suitcase going to weigh a little more on the way home😃🏆

mclaren 🙌🙌 y/n.y/l/n SO PROUD OF YOU OSCAR!! CONGRATULATIONS!! 😭😭🧡🧡 user 6 SO DESERVED!! thrilled for you user 7 where are you going to put it?? user 8 beautiful user 1 she's back guys!! Oscar's No.1 fan 😂😂

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, y/n.y/l/n and 287,756 other

oscarpiastri F1 race winner has a nice ring to it 🧡 landonorris Congrats mate! Deserve it👊 oscarpiastri landonorris Thanks mate👊 mclaren YES, YES IT DOES So good today, Oscar🧡 oscarpiastri mclaren Thanks guys 🧡 y/n.y/l/n I'm literally crying right now!! Can't wait to watch you win the WDC😭😭😭 user 2 y/n.y/l/n ma'am please focus on your own sport🙃🙃 user 3 The best boy!!❤️❤️❤️

oscarpiastri

Liked by y/n.y/l/n and 209,323 others

oscarpiastri N1CE

y/n.y/l/n 😭😍😍😍 user 4 I can't believe you won the sprint!! user 5 I'm so happy rn user 6 You deserve all this and so much more

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 56,789 others

y/n.y/l/n We had a good season!! Bummed we didn't make it to the finals but happy with our performance over all. We'll work harder to get the T20 World Cup trophy home next time.

oscarpiastri Good match!!💙💙 Liked by author user 7 Thank god he noticed her, it was starting to get embarrassing🫢🫢 user 8 Good match, we'll beat the aussies next time!!🫣🫣 user 1 manifestation is real. she's the living example😭😭

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 102,258 others tagged oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren

y/n.y/l/n Got to meet the LOML and some random guy named Lando, thanks McLaren for the opportunity!! Now you guys gotta come and support me in one of my matches!!🧡🧡💙💙

landonorris that was uncalled for😪😪 y/n.y/l/n landonorris I'm sorry, it sounded better in my head 😶😶 mclaren we loved having you. Orange suits you🧡 oscarpiastri It was nice to finally meet my no. 1 fan!! y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri 🫣🧡 user 2 she's gonna talk about this for the rest of her life🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ user 3 she looks so cute😍😍 user 4 I saw her at the GP, the heart eyes for Oscar were unreal🥹🥹

oscarpiastri

Liked by y/n.y/l/n, landonorris, mclaren and 287,965 others tagged y/n.y/l/n

oscarpiastri If someone had told me last year that I would be in love with a cricketer I would've laughed at you. Right now, I can't imagine a day without my pretty cricketer!! Love you so much!!

y/n.y/l/n I love you too!! Does this mean you'll support India now? oscarpiastri y/n.y/l/n No. I'm sorry, I don't love you that much 🫥 y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri WOW!! what a boyfriend you are?! 😯 user 5 Congratulations you too!! So cute❤️❤️ user 6 This is a win for desi girls ❤️🥹 user 7 Your Honor, I think I love love.❤️❤️ landonorris Congratulations you two!! Liked by author mclaren hottest athletic couple on the grid🧡 Liked by author

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 139,864 others tagged oscarpiastri

y/n.y/l/n I didn't know when I put Oscar Piastri is the LOML into the universe it would become a reality. But it did. That's motivation for you all to keep working towards your dreams and goals whether it is your career or a man!! I love you babe. 😍😍❤️🧡💙Ek pardesi mera dil legaya!! A foreigner took my heart

oscarpiastri I love you too!! Can't wait to live out my WAG fantasies y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri I'm gonna drag you along to all my matches now😈 user 8 Oscar is unreal user 1 they are the cutest!! bff/user You would think she'd stop yapping about Oscar, it got worse guys it got worse😤🤦‍♀️ user 2 Y/N please put him a black kurta!! I'M BEGGING YOU ITS FOR SCIENCE!!🥹🥹

Hope you enjoy

259 notes · View notes

craziechwiv · 1 year ago

Text

Jaune and Pyrrha are on a date at a fastfood joint, enjoying their evening in peace. Jaune was wearing a T-Shirt with a tuxedo design on it while Pyrrha borrowed his hoodie, to hide her appearance. It was all going well, just the two of them laughing and talking.

Jaune: Y'know, I'm kinda bummed out Ren and Nora couldn't come for a double date.

Pyrrha: Yeah, it is a tragic. But there's always next time!

Jaune: Yeah, but still. Who'd sign them up for a mission this close to night? Do we even get those or is this something new?

Pyrrha: Maybe something new, we have to be trained for anything correct?

Jaune: I guess so.

Meanwhile as they talked more, a group of photographers were hidden in bushes across the street, snapping pictures of the two.

Photographer #1: This'll be the scoop of the century!

Photographer #2: Mhm, 'Champion Invincible Girl has one weakness, and it's love!' Oh we are so gonna be rolling in dough for this one, right Terry?

The third photographer was knocked out, with a bruise on the back of his neck.

Photographer #2: Terry?!

Behind the small trio of photographers, up on a edge were a pair in camo clothing.

Nora, seeing through some binoculars: I think they're catching onto us...

Ren, aiming down one of his guns at the second Photographer: Mhm. I'll get the others then.

Ren then takes another shot, hearing a gasp and then a this as the first photographer begins to scream.

Nora: Y'know, as much as it would've been nice to eat dinner as a team for a double date night, this is more up my alley.

Ren: Hence why I agreed. You always were one to need a bit of spark for our dates anyways.

Nora: Aww, thanks Renny! Oh, we got a runner.

Ren: Roger.

Back to Jaune and Pyrrha who were laughing about their other friends.

Jaune: And then Yang walked in on Sun and Neptune right? And they both-

Photographer #1: AHHHH!

Jaune: What the-

As the Photographer ran out of his hiding spot, he is then shot in the back of his head, Knocking him out instantly as he fell into the pavement. Jaune instantly goes up to check up on the man before Pyrrha stops him.

Jaune: Pyrrha...who is that man?

Pyrrha: Uhm...a nuisance?

Jaune then looks towards the man again, who was holding a camera in his hands. Then he looked to where the man was hiding and notices something orange looking out from the shrubs further away. He just smirked and looked at Pyrrha with a smile.

Jaune: I see...well let's just ignore the 'nuisance' and go back to our date, shall we?

Pyrrha's mind: Oh gods he knows...

Jaune: And tell Nora and Ren to join us, for Pete sakes.

Pyrrha: Right, I'm sorry!

#rwby #rwby shitpost #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #arkos #rwby arkos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #renora #rwby renora #jnpr

200 notes · View notes

mrpuzzlessimp420 · 1 year ago

Text

Mario Simulator (Joke Fic)

Chapter 1

Ships: Marware, BatteryAcid (Mr Puzzles x Orange Juice), SMG34 (minor)

Mushroom Akademi was your normal pseudo-japanese highschool and Mario was a normal student.

He had... awful as shit grades because he didn't concentrate in class (god I wish I was that carefree ) and had a decent enough reputation, expect for that one incident where he was caught... you don't want to know what he was caught doing.

Anyway, Mario was normal.

He awoke to his loud two trucks alarm and started to get ready for the day. Putting on his highschool girl uniform that definitely did not look like the sailor scout uniform, not brushing his teeth and grabbing a plate of spaghetti to eat.

He quickly checked his phone to see that it was... 8 a'clock??? He was going to be late and get told of by SMG4 because of it!

Spaghetti plate still in hand, he rushed out the door, trying his best not to trip and be a clutz like he always is.

He eventually arrived at the school, only 2 minutes late and ran to his class, before realising he had no clue where he was going and had to check his timetable, which he also realised he lost like 5 months ago.

After 10 minutes of searching for his class, he finally found it and sat down in his seat, absolutely exhausted, spaghetti plate still in hand.

"Mario? You're late again? This is the 20th time this week! You know what I don't care, just don't be a nuisance like yesterday." Karen stated, not giving a crap about Mario because she is a girlboss, a legend and the moment.

The lesson went surprisingly quickly as the entire time Mario was finishing of his spaghetti or talking to SMG4 about memes or some cringey shit like that.

When the lesson and 2nd period was over, it was finally break.

Mario ran to say hello to his friends before a figure caught his eye.

The figure was a tall, handsome TV head giving out audition leaflets for a school play, rather dramatically you could say... and pathetically as he was literally on his hands and knees begging one student to join, a crying baby face replacing his normal emotes on his TV head.

Mario's heart skipped a beat. Oh how he had fallen for this TV head for the past couple of months. Yeah he tried to mind-control his friends to force them to preform in a everlasting play but that was ages ago. Honestly, Mario was down bad for him, his patheticness, his passion for the arts, his dramatic nature. I mean he was even good to look at, I mean look at those cables and wires (bro 😭) .

"Mario? MARIO!"

Mario finally snapped out of his god damn solioquy and lovestruck pinning just to be faced with a very annoyed SMG4.

"Where you even listening to anything I said?" SMG4 asked, pissed that Mario hadn't been listening for the 100th time this week.

"Uhhhh..." Mario said before saying the most, disgusting, revolting thing you ever have seen that had to be censored for the sake of EVERYONE'S sanity.

"What? No??? I was explaining the entire FNAF lore." SMG4 explained like the cringe pathetic loser he is.

"I honestly still don't get it." Meggy stated

"I do." SMG3 stated, with lovestruck eyes that told everyone in the room that he did not understand anything SMG4 just said and just liked to hear SMG4's voice

"Ha ha Gayyyyyy!" Mario shouted before being punched in the face by SMG3

"Shut Up! You like Mr Puzzles!!!" SMG3 declared, deflecting Mario's accusation back onto Mario.

"That's because he's-" Mario was once again censored by the Great Fanfic Writer in the sky who didn't want to write out the disgusting thing Mario just said about Mr Puzzles

"We.. didn't need to know that but anyway what was I on about again?" SMG4 asked, forgetting his entire lore dump he just did a few minutes before hand.

"You were on about the lore of FNAF?" SMG3 stated, looking back at SMG4 with eyes that were screaming with 'I love you so much, I want to hear your voice all the time, we are friends, we are literally soulmates made for each other, I would literally die and kill for you.'

"Oh yeah!" SMG4 was a oblivious idiot and didn't notice SMG3's obvious pinning "Anyway Foxy Bro killed his own brother or some shit and got really depressed ig, couldn't be me"

SMG4 went on to ramble about FNAF again but Mario got bored immediately. Why would anyone care about a Purple Guy and some dead children? The lore was way to complex for Mario's stupid little brain anyway, he couldn't even count to 10 let alone remember all of that.

Mario's focus went back to the pathetic Vox look-alike and sighed lovely.

He was perfect to Mario. Absolutely perfect. Though he was a bumbling idiot and still not fully redeemed, he was harmless and Mario knew he could fix him.

Mr Puzzles was now acting like that desperate clinging to a student to get them to join didn't happen and was still handing out leaflets for the audition.

Maybe Mario could audition? It's not like he had anything better to do with his life other than eat spaghetti and annoy SMG4 24/7. And it gave him the excuse to hang out with the handsome TV head.

Before Mario could think any longer, a new character appeared on screen and jokely spooked Mr Puzzles, which caused Mr Puzzles to jump and move his hands dramatically like a primary schooler trying way to hard in a poorly done school play.

Mario immediately didn't like this new figure. How dare they spook their one and only true love? And be friendly with him? (Damn Mario just let him have friends, he needs them desperately)

The figure was tall, taller than Mr Puzzles in fact which was a surprise, and extremely buff, looking like that one yaoi art base (you know the one). His head was replaced with a glass of orange juice which for some reasons had eyes on it, like working eyes. Mario didn't question it though as the canonical SMG4 universe was already lacking of lore on how the fuck Mr Puzzles is alive after he cut his head off.

"Awww, did I scare you pookie bear? I'm sorry~!" the figure said, kissing his lover on the check loving.

"I-It's okay OJ-Kun! You just scared me a little that's all." Mr Puzzles said, extremely flustered and shy now out of no where, acting like a uwu soft twink.

Mario was seething with anger. Mr Puzzles had a lover? A boyfriend? This was not okay. Only Mario could be his boyfriend and if he couldn't, then no one could.

An idea popped into Mario's head, quite surprising as he probably didn't have any braincells left.

A very... unique idea.

You see, there was something actually... unnormal about Mario.

He was what you would call...

A yandere.

(part 2 when??? Lol)

91 notes · View notes

al9ayf · 1 year ago

Text

ᥫ᭡ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 | raphael x f!reader

ʚ PART TWO

→ PART 1

｡˚ word count: 3.666k (lol)

｡˚ explicit content :: mentions of miscarriage

the boudoir was lit with the blood-red sky of avernus. it drenched the red room with a dark hue, but yet, your mortal self was bathed in its glow. your body shined red like a polished ruby, but your eyes and tears reflected the devastating skies. raphael could see the red and orange clouds and the acrid air in them. and although your body resembled the very hells itself, your eyes that once held so much adoration and love had diminished—as if a brazier was put out. they became as black as coal. it became an endless pit of darkness.

raphael noticed the puffiness of your eyes. it looked painful to even blink. they were glistened with your tears. he looked at your nose next where it too was puffy and red, and where wet snot had rolled down into your lips. you looked like a babe with how puffy your whole face had become just from crying. how long have you been weeping silently on the balcony floor until you were loud enough to wake him up?

your lips were quivering greatly after your loud wail that had woken him up from his slumber. now they hold back gurgled moans and small cries as you tried to shut yourself up again, hoping that he would either ask what was the matter or bid you off to your quarters. you tried to stay silent for his sake. you did not want to wake your master from his beauty sleep no matter what, yet you did the one thing you did not want to do. but you were not crying because of a small matter. you were crying over another dream you had with raphael in your arms. a dream so terrible it broke you down to the floor. a dream that should be told to the cambion immediately due to its importance, but you did not have the heart to even say anything.

raphael did not move from the bed even a centimeter. he could not help but stare at you with shock. and although it wasn’t obvious to you, the only thing you could think of was how pitiful you must be to look at; how weak you look in front of your master. it was embarrassing and shameful. you always did the right thing and always were perfect for raphael. now you are crying in the nude in front of him, diminished to nothing but a nuisance to him. how pitiful you must be. and although he did think of you as pitiful and weak in this moment, raphael remembered the dream he had. it was most certainly connected to your sorrowful tears.

he extended an arm and beckoned you with a soft wave of his hand. you muster all the strength in your body to stand up on your shaky legs. it feels foreign to stand after sitting for so long. you would run to him if you could, shamelessly too. he was inviting you to a conversation, and for an instant you forget about the tears and the dream. for an instant, as you climb onto the bed and sit on your knees in between his legs, you forget the terrible dream. there is nothing to worry about in this moment you have with him as he leans forward and brushes wet strands of hair away from your face. for an instant, raphael sees your true eye color appear again with that glimmer of love you have for him. what happened?

“i admit, it is quite a surprise to see such a pitiful look on you. it almost makes me want to comfort you, dear,” he says. his words are colder than cania itself. another reminder that he does not care for your feelings, and he never will. you almost burst out into more tears at his confession, but hold yourself together. “if you wanted to cry all the tears of the damned souls, why did you not make the short trip back to your living quarters i have so graciously given you? unless you wanted me to see you resemble a newborn babe and wake me from my sleep?”

raphael’s voice drips with toxicity. his brows are furrowed and the edges of his lips are twitched up into a smirk. you do not see traces of the cambion he was many moons ago. he is his true self in a form resembling a mortal rather than a devil. it is ironic, but he must not have cared enough to transform back into his fiendish self that could surprisingly be soft. you see an evil man you had fallen in love with. you know that he does not care for the likes of you, so why do you find yourself so emotional?

“never, my lord…” your voice cracks and it is painful to hear.

“then why are you still here crying me a salty river of tears i do not want to see unless i caused them? i do not have time for weakness. soon, i will have the crown in my hands, and weak ends like you will be cut loose.”

your tears stop immediately. the feeling of your heart dropping to your stomach is a feeling too real, and you reach out to him but quickly stop yourself. “my lord, i am not weak, i promise you!” you frantically exclaim. “please, do not leave me…”

raphael crosses his arms and leans back into the comfortable cushions. “pity, i did not take you for such a fool,” he almost rolls his eyes at you. “i expected you to dedicate yourself, not beg like a puppy.”

you do not say anything. you are at a loss for words. raphael confuses you more than anything. he plays tricks on you just because he can, and you can do nothing but take it. it hurts your heart yet you do not do anything. as long as you can remain with him, you do not care about how large a fool you will be. and he knows this too. a person like you is one he will keep at his side until you tumble and fall and cannot get back up. not only are you pregnant with his son, you are excellent at your job. soon, you will have bigger roles to play once you give birth.

“then speak about why you cry a river greater than styx,” he says, softening his expression.

you finally look away from his eyes and down at your stomach, wrapping your arms around it protectively. you could feel the heat inside you, a terrible burning in your womb. “forgive me…” you murmur, looking back up at him. he does not say anything.

“your son was tall and proud, with your red skin and my hair…” your voice almost cracks again. “he had molten-golden eyes shaped like almonds. and he smiled for me and began to lift his hand toward me, but when he opened his mouth the fire poured out. i saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an instant, he was gone, consumed like a moth by a candle… turned to ash.”

you struggled to hold the tears down, but some silently cascaded down your cheeks. and then you broke down, ashamed that you were now in this state again in front of raphael who still did not say a word. you wept for your child, the promise of a sweet mouth on your breast, but your tears turned to steam as they touched your skin.

“he was the prince that was promised.”

“no,” said raphael, grabbing your shoulders and bringing you to him. you look at him and he is suddenly drenched with this overwhelming sense of power. you feel it and it does not scare you. it awakens you. he wipes the tears from your eyes and you blink a few times to finally see him clearly. “no, my little mouse. do not cry over this child. the crown is mine. i am the child of an archdevil, the prince that was promised. don’t you see? don’t you SEE?”

with a roaring thunder off in the distance coming from the skies of avernus, the glow of the blood-red sky turns darker and darker. unafraid, you reach your hands out and touch raphael’s cheeks, cupping them ever so gently. in his eyes, you see it clearly. the promise of a leader so great he will never face his end. there is only the promise of glory.

—

“no, my little mouse. do not cry over this child. the crown is mine. i am the child of an archdevil, the prince that was promised. don’t you see? don’t you SEE?”

after a time—a night, a day, a year, you could not say—you awoke. your bedroom was dark, almost completely blacked out if not for the one lit candle on your bedside table. your arms were wrapped around your body, hugging yourself in a fetal position. beneath the bedsheets, a fine sheen of sweat covered the bare parts of your skin. you touched your brow. under the layer of sweat, your skin was cool to the touch. you sat up on the mattress. there was a moment of dizziness and a deep ache between your thighs. yet you were alright.

“has the mouse awoken from its slumber?”

you notice raphael sitting beside you, watching you with those piercing eyes. molten-golden eyes, ruby-red skin… a week's worth of memories come back to you all at once. he sees a darkness in your eyes when you realize all that had happened in the past few days, and no sooner does he also have the same darkness in his.

“my child…” you mutter. “my son… where is he? i want him.”

raphael chuckles as he stands up from the chair. “the boy did not live,” he says. his voice does not contain a hint of sadness nor does his face. he sits beside you on the bed and cups your cheek with a claw, his nail almost cutting into your skin.

your son is dead. you had known somehow. you had known since you woke up with the ability to wrap your arms around your body. no, you had known before you woke. your dream came back to you, sudden and vivid, and you remembered the tall man with ruby skin and beautiful hair, bursting into flame. you should weep, you knew, yet your eyes were as dry as ash. you had wept in your dream and wept when you had woken from it, and the tears had turned to steam on your cheeks. all the grief has been burned out of you. you felt sad, and yet, you could feel your boy receding from you as if he had never been.

“tell me how my child died,” your voice was harsh, broken. raphael raised a brow at how passionate you were, finally able to speak like the woman you are and not a begging child. ‘tell me,’ he thinks to himself. ‘she commanded not asked.’ he let go of your cheek and places his hand on your leg.

“he never lived, my little mouse,” he rubs you soothingly, too calculated of a touch. “monstrous and twisted, he was,” you squeezed your eyes shut. you understood that raphael was cruel and dangerous, and understood that at its peak he seemed to be the most compassionate. his touch could bring you to your knees in pure devotion, but his words could bring you to your death. “blind, with the stub of an arrow-headed tail and small leather wings like a bat. when i held him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of worms and the stink of corruption. he had been dead for years.”

“i felt him…”

“that may be as it may be, but the child that came forth from your womb, love, was death incarnate. myrkul could have mistaken it as his own child.”

yet you do not weep. raphael was calm and collected, and he talked about the boy as if it was not his child. almost five months along, you were. the babe could not have lived, even if he had been alive. the boy you thought was the prince that was promised until raphael had that dream. he dreamt of himself fulfilling that prophecy. and that should have been the first sign you knew your boy was as good as dead. if raphael did not care for the babe, then why should you? in the end, the only thing that mattered was the love of your life.

“did i fail you, my lord?” you asked, looking up at him.

“far from it,” he speaks with a smirk. “you have opened my eyes to endless possibilities. i will not have my most faithful servant die before i achieve any of them.”

“then that is all that matters to me…”

—

the crown of karsus.

a bleeding star, it was, the way the netherbrain fell from the sky and down into the chionthar. the waves crash violently against the ash-suffused sky. it was a scene taken from the hells. it did not seem real at all. raphael relishes at the moment. and you think back to how the brain looked when it went over both of your heads. the shadow cast over the both of you yet somehow the glint of the sun managed to land on him. he is the prince that was promised.

raphael chuckles at the sight of destruction in front of him. you stand behind him, watching him with korilla who is by your side, also relishing in the moment.

“the final act!” he exclaims. “finished.” he hums in pure bliss. no words befall your lips. you are as silent as a mouse. raphael turns around and walks past the both of you, snapping his fingers just in time to take you both back to the devil’s den.

a day later, you stand alone now behind raphael yet again. your hands over your stomach where your child once was, but is now forever gone. you do not think about him though. your mind has not crossed it since the day you woke and he was gone. now it is the start of a new dawn. a new awakening. the one who spoke for the traveling group, raphael’s favorite client, handed him the crown of karsus along with the three netherstones. and with one last goodbye, the both of you are snapped away back into the house of hope.

this is where you now stand. in front of raphael who uses the three netherstones to inlay it into the crown, and place it upon his head. it molds perfectly onto his skull as if it was made for him. the netherstones glow a deep hue and it is warm.

“the prince that was promised will bring a new dawn, and he stands before me…” you say. you are in a trance, in awe, of his beauty. “the bleeding star blazed across the sky to herald your coming, and you bear the crown, the weapon of power…”

you drop to your knees and hands, shaking. “my king…” you almost cry. you are so happy.

raphael watches your trembling body. he has moved you to tears by fulfilling this prophecy. “stand, dear.” he commands you. you wipe the tears that want to fall and quickly stand back up to your feet. he cups your cheeks softly, holding you close to him. you are trapped in his arms and his gaze. such beautiful eyes hold such terrible tales. soft lips bring you to tears each time a word leaves them, and a face so divinely beautiful it was sinful to look upon it.

he was pure evil. evil to speak to and evil to look at. but you did not care. you love the devil more than you love yourself. everything you have done, you have done for him. everything you will do will be in his name. and he knows that. he knows how much of a devoted servant you are. he knows you want to be more to him than just that. you had carried his child at one point: a child that he may not have cared for, but his nonetheless.

“i owe you my thanks, my love,” he whispers. my love? your hands grip onto his blouse in excitement, eyes wide. the red satin silk of his sash is softer than you expected, and the black garment underneath is perfectly tailored to his body. an outfit fit for a king. “you have opened up a whole new world for me. you told me of my prophecy. my forthcoming.”

he caresses you and you lean into his touch like a cat. he moves his head closer to you, lips grazing yours ever so slightly. you want to close that gap and kiss him with all you have, but cannot. you must wait. you must.

“long have you wished to rule over the hells, and now you will,” you whisper back. “now everyone will know that you are not just raphael the cambion… but the prince that was promised.” your grip tightens and breath quickens. “you will rule this world for eons. you possess the crown and will make this world yours.”

“and you could not be more right…”

he kisses you with passion. you love him. you kiss him back with just as much if not more, and reach up to touch his face, but he pulls away from you. you are detested at the sudden loss of contact, and then he lets go of you as a whole. a shiver runs up your back and you feel suddenly as if you have been submerged in an ocean of ice-cold water. it is a feeling so unfamiliar. you look at raphael and go to him again, but he raises a hand to you. you stop in your tracks immediately, a little shocked at his sudden aloofness.

“you have done what was needed to be done,” he says, lowering his hand.

you feel the muscles in your face contort. the darkness in your eyes returns, and you feel a sudden emptiness within you. he raises a brow at your sudden expression and puts a hand under his chin.

“what is it?” he asks. you do not want to tell him in fear that he will reprimand you. but you speak up because he has asked you to.

“a life without you is a life not worth living, my king…” you say, tears in your eyes. “if it must be so, give me the honor of dying at your hands. it would even be a blessing to be a prisoner of yours. but without you in my life, i am nothing. so please, allow me to continue being by your side. i will do everything.”

you want to drop to your knees but he grabs onto your neck quickly. he holds onto you tight, but not tight enough that you cannot breathe. you look into his eyes that hold fire and the nine hells. he smirks.

“you have mistaken my words, but i appreciate the devotion,” he leans in closer to you. “you have a gift not even i possess, and it is because of you i had the dream of the prophecy. you are foolish to believe you will even leave this place. let alone die on me.”

raphael sees the spark again in your eyes. this is what you wanted, and finally he has given it to you. you aided him in becoming a king, and now he will reward you with the crown of sin. you are not to be his queen or an equal, but you will not leave the house of hope ever again. in truth, you are much more valuable to raphael than he will admit aloud. if he could take your gift and make it his own, he would discard you immediately. but he did not have such power. no one did. and so the next best option was to keep you as a pet. and that was something even you enjoyed.

you smile at him a smile so bright it hurts the muscles on your face. you know you are a weapon in his war, a woman to be used for the rest of your life. and if he takes your soul just to keep the dreams you have living, then so be it. but as long as you can touch him, listen to his soothing voice, and be in his warm embrace and dreadful presence, you are happy no matter what circumstance you are in. you love him.

raphael kisses you one more time and then lets go of you. and for once, and will mostly be the only time, you jump back into his arms and kiss him without his permission. he does not reprimand you. he does not punish you. he instead holds you closer and keeps you to him as you suffocate in a love that is not reciprocated to you. but you do not care. for this is all you want in life, and if raphael can give it to you in exchange for your dreams, then he will give you everything that you want from him. but one wrong move, and he will end it all. once the thought of not needing you anymore crosses his mind, he will give you a fate worse than death or torture.

abandonment.

but for now, he is content with you, and you are more than content with him. when you finally pull away from the kiss, he looks down at you with furrowed brows as you look at him with hope and love.

“my prince that was promised…” you run your hand through his hair. “you have conquered my heart, and now you will conquer this world. my king…”

you love him.

ty for reading <3 may or may not write a bonus chapter

#baldur’s gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael x reader #bg3 angst #tav #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael bg3 x tav #raphael x tav

46 notes · View notes

jnephrite · 7 months ago

Text

morgan drew enemy list

1) the joker — killed her parents in front of her. attempted to kill her but only affected her right eye.

that’s why it’s orange. injury + seeing a gruesome scene in front of her gave her abilities. so joker is the reason of her powers.

at first he doesn’t care about her. but got annoyed after he kept messing up his plans so he constantly tried to harm her. || the joker realised he cannot harm her, he attacks her friends; cori and ani. in the end ani dies || and morgan close enough to kill him. || months later she kills him as delphi and after that morgan would hallucinate him everytime she does something bad ||

2) alexis kaye / punchline — they are the same in everything; wants joker/harley to take them in, does ballet, parents dead, sadistic tendencies, good with knives. same coin but different sides? punchline tries to kill her for the joker. morgan tries to kill her because she’s just a nuisance. always fighting it’s like they’re flirting /hj

3) cassandra cain / batgirl — if alexis is similar to morgan, cass is the complete opposite of morgan, they contrast each other. from complex morals to character. chaos vs discipline. emotion vs. control. loud vs. quiet. (they do ballet but that’s similar but i just wanna add). cass as batgirl is all black meanwhile morgan is colourful. morgan relies on chat and her luck while cass is extremely skilled— morgan is unpredictable and cass relies on reading body language.

4) fish mooney — morgan’s groomer. || morgan kills fish after fish was forming a temporary alliance with the joker ||.

fish is the one who enhanced her abilities so she could use morgan’s precognition abilities / chat as she tries to become the next gotham kingpin. fish is the one who told her to change alias from quinni (it’s not like quinni is morgan’s choice tbh) to carnival. morgan got the alias delphi from fish.

anyway, fish acts sweet and gives her everything she needs while subtly controlling her (with and without using her powers). acts like she cares about morgan but in reality she just took morgan in because of the syndicate prophecy and to use morgan for her own plans. 👍 basically morgan wouldn’t exactly be morgan if she hadn’t met fish

#might edit #i was gonna add the penguin butttttt #ehhh #dc #dc oc #morgan drew #text #jaceverse

18 notes · View notes

pumpkinpot · 8 months ago

Text

Dilf Sebastian pt. 3 Christmas drabble (stand alone but the series is cute)

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

A/N: I gave youngin a name.. or rather a nickname? Ro. so when you see it that's why. No beta.

Sebastian wasn't really a Christmas creature. He found the whole event terribly troublesome and what reprieve there was to be found did not make up for the nuisance of it all.

Thankfully, you were simple. You'd found joy in the mundanity. He sometimes wondered if you did it for his sake but it wasn't his place to ask. Or maybe he didn't want to.

The season had officially exploded onto society. Not a single place could be seen without Santa impersonators or twinkling lights which meant it was soon to creep its way into your home.

Even so there was a level of decorum that was preserved in the home you'd built. where there would usually be string lights there was candles. where there was excess sugar was the in season fruits and warm ciders.

where there was belief in Santa there was myth books and fables. You'd never told Ro that Santa was or wasn't real but allowed them to view things through the means literature. Saint Nick, Joulupukki, Gryla and Krampus.

Ro had gotten in trouble for bringing a book about Krampus, their favorite Christmas figure into class for show and tell.

A qualm Sebastian quelled with a reaming of the school board for the lack of diverse winter holiday representation in school. They compromised by dropping Ro's suspension in favor that they not speak of the matter again and they be allowed to share their books at will.

If there were more complaints there was never any word of it.

Tonight's activity was one you loved most. Drying Oranges and cinnamon for garland. you'd spent near a half hour picking the perfect oranges and a bag of cinnamon sticks.

Sebastian was appalled when you'd put the cinnamon pinecones in the shopping cart. He took them out promptly.

Suddenly what was meant to be an hour project became a days side quest.

He drove you both out of the city right then. You had no idea where he was taking you, but it was usually best not to question his determined brow.

The roads became windy and buildings sparce. Trees rushed by in a blur or browns and greens. When he finally did pull off there wasn't a sign of civilization to be seen.

He bundles Ro up in his scarf, wrapping it once around their head and again around their neck. Next he stripes his coat drapping it over your shoulders.

The forest was too thick for the inches of snowfall, except in small patches but ice and chill still nipped at you.

"won't you get cold?" Ro asks.

"Are birds often cold in the winter?" He retorts, mostly kidding.

It was meant to bring back the conversation they'd had as a family when Ro revealed they knew he was a "Crow." but when he turned he wasn't met with the excited wonder and curiosity but inquisition and sadness.

"I don't know," they say, looking up into the trees. "I hope not."

Sebastian paused. What was it like in a body filled to the brim with empathy? it seemed so harrowing to experience. He couldn't even say that he knew if birds got cold because he hadn't ever wondered about the creatures.

"Birds that don't migrate in the winter puff out their feathers and store fat to keep themselves warm," you read from the google page on your phone.

"Sort of like bears," they ask.

"Sort of like bears," you agree.

The answer seems to satisfy them because they wander off immediately.

"Thank you," Sebastian whispers.

You hum. "birds might not get cold, but I do. What are we doing out here?"

He looks up at the trees. "we're collecting pinecones for the garland."

He showed you and Ro which were preferred and you all searched.

within the hour you had two bags of pinecones. Enough to conclude the search. On the way back to the car Ro darted between trees a flash of red from Sebastians scarf zooming around.

"Look!" Ro shouts, pointing just out of your sight.

As you and Sebastian get close Ro sprints to a pine tree just the size of themselves.

"It's me sized." Ro says.

"It is," you say with a sniff. both yours and Ro's nose had become bright and runny.

"can this be our Christmas tree?"

"No" you say just as Sebatian says. "I don't see why not."

the two of you look at one another. "we don't have a saw or a way to get it home."

He smiles. "Let me worry about that, here you take these pinecones and I'll meet you home."

you drive carefully home and when you pull into the driveway Sebastian opens the front door welcoming you back.

"How did you beat us here?" you ask.

"He flew here obviously." Ro says finitely.

There was nothing else to be said. you knew better than to press for a better explanation and Ro's was likely the closest there would be to one.

Inside was the tree you'd just seen in the woods, positioned perfectly on the corner of the living room.

Ro struts to it none the wiser of how amazing its appearance is. "It's perfect!" they say.

"You really are incredibly, you know that?" you whisper to him.

It was only in this decade could he be seen doing acts like this and be called incredible and not "Demon or witch."

He'd felt affection more in the last eight years than he had in the previous thousand. It overwhelmed him in uncomfortable ways so he hummed and took back his scarf and coat to hang next to the door.

The night was further spent with Sebastian teaching you and Ro how to make cinnamon pinecones and how to harvest pine nuts.

the tree was decorated with dried oranges, roasted cinnamon sticks and little white candles.

before bed during the nightly wind down you all made pesto flat bread with the aforementioned pine nuts and re read Ro's favorite version of the Krampus tale.

Hey if you like this content there is more on my Master List

#black butler #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader

39 notes · View notes

eldritchqueerture · 1 year ago

Text

Wanted to explore Artie drunk and in the pits of despair. There will probably be more. At some point.

Summary:

Parker raised his eyebrows slightly and shrugged. “Maybe I want to become friends.” Arthur actually let out a laugh at that; not because it was funny, but because this man clearly did not know who he was. What kind of person he was. What kind of things he’d done. “No, you don’t,” he simply said and turned to the bartender, tapping the glass on the bar twice. Parker laid his hand flat next to the glass, as if to stop him. “Wait. Let me get this round.” Arthur frowned at the man again. What was this nuisance for? “Why.” “Because…” He hesitated for a moment. “Because you look like you’ve hit bedrock, friend.” Arthur blinked at him, confused, as the bartender approached them with a bottle of whiskey. Parker raised a finger for him to wait. “What?” Arthur asked. “Have you ever had a blood and sand?” He asked. Arthur grimaced, unable to follow this train of thought. “What is that,” he mumbled. “It’s a cocktail!” Parker smiled brightly. “Blood orange, cherry, scotch – should be right up your alley.”

#malevolent #niki.writes #malevolent podcast #malevolent fanfic #arthur lester #peter parker yang #uhhh do these two have a shipname?#im too lazy to copy the whole thing here this time

31 notes · View notes

sshbpodcast · 4 months ago

Text

Who’s a Good Boy? Spot vs. Porthos

By Ames

It’s been a minute since we had a spotlight battle when we wondered who was more badass: Tasha Yar or Ro Laren? And now we dare ask who is the best Star Trek pet: Data’s orange tabby cat Spot or Archer’s prized beagle Porthos? We’re all animal lovers here at A Star to Steer Her By, so it’s going to be a competition with many factors to consider, and you know what that means…

The Big Board is back, bitches!

Both pets are loyal and loving companions; they even have focus episodes in which they contribute to saving the day. And I’d argue that we really don’t see either as much as we’d like! Spot definitely gets fewer episodes, and changes breeds and sexes every so often without any explanation (I’m going to mostly call Spot a girl and ignore continuity for the sake of this post). And Porthos, while appearing in more episodes, often gets forgotten when the plot demands it. Who’s going to win best-in-show this week? Read on below and listen to this week’s episode (romp on over to timestamp 52:21) to find out who gets the blue ribbon!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

1. Relationship with master

Spot: A cat is the perfect four-legged friend for an android because they are both aloof but wise, and can basically take care of themselves. Data cares for his beloved feline almost obsessively, trying out new replicated food to make her happy, writing poetry about her, and making sure she’s cared for when he’s away. But the most heart-warming example of how much Data loves Spot is in Generations when they’re reunited after the ship crash and Data’s emotions really come out.

Porthos: Dogs are the poster pet for adventure and exploration, and Archer is such a dog person. He is in constant need of someone in his life offering unconditional companionship and love, and dogs give it all away for free. Say what you want about the guy (and we gave him hell), but we see Archer’s devotion to his sweet pupper on full display in “A Night in Sickbay” when Porthos is in medbay and Archer refuses to leave his side, even with Phlox there being a nuisance the entire time.

Winner: Spot. We’re all cat owners on this podcast, and we know how much work it takes getting a cat to come out of her shell, so Data gets some extra credit here. And frankly, Archer bringing Porthos into the Delphic Expanse with him in “The Xindi”—where they assumed they’d get annihilated—is damn selfish. Leave the dog with Danica Erickson or something, dude! At least the Enterprise-D was cat friendly!

—

2. Human relationships

Spot: While Spot is very affectionate and tender with Data, it’s sort of a running joke throughout seasons 6 and 7 that she doesn’t get along with anyone else. She scratches Riker in “Timescape.” She hisses at Geordi while hiding under the bed in “Force of Nature,” and he gives Data a whole speech about how she needs to be better trained. Worf is insinuated to be allergic to cats and only promises to feed Spot in “Phantasms” in Data’s absence. The only person other than Data we see actually getting along with her is Barclay in “Genesis” because he’s another cat person!

Porthos: The doggo, on the other hand, is a glutton for attention. Porthos is a very good dog with absolutely everyone. When Phlox eventually comes to understand animals can be used for companionship and not just for his medical menagerie, he seems to really value his time with him, especially in an episode like “Doctor’s Orders.” Perhaps the most emblematic portrayal of Porthos’s shipwide friendship is seen when Sim spends time with him after he’s settled on sacrificing himself in “Similitude.” Who else would you rather your last moments be with than a doggy?

Winner: Porthos. This one is obvious. Spot is not only unfriendly to the rest of the crew, but downright aggressive at times. But Porthos is fully content to get scritches and pats from just about anyone.

—

3. Responses to threats

Spot: This kitty’s got claws! How well would Spot do in defending the ship? We posit she’d do pretty damn well, as is evidenced by how she sent Riker to medbay with scratches on his face that one time in “Timescape.” She could certainly hold her own in a fight with a real foe if she can take down the first officer of the whole ship!

Porthos: This beagle, on the other hand, is a pushover. I’ve complained a bunch of times on the podcast that I just don’t buy it any time the dog actors are supposed to be threatened. Instead of attacking or even barking at the cloaked Suliban on the ship in “Cold Front,” he wags his tail and looks happy. Porthos is no help at all when Ferengi board the ship in “Acquisition” and ends up in a packing crate because of it. He does successfully communicate the jizz alien threat in “Vox Sola” to Archer via barking, so at least that’s something.

Winner: Porthos. Data’s cat knows to be distrustful at first and will use her talons when it’s asked of her! But it's all conjecture if she's actually do any good during a real threat, while Porthos at least has history of barking at enemies to alert his masters.

—

4. Animal relationships

Spot: We know that Spot has gotten busy with one of at least twelve male cats on the Enterprise because she’s pregnant in “Genesis.” We don’t know much about how she got along with any of these superfluous cats, but we do know that she had a litter of beautiful kittens later that episode, and we squee so hard to see adorable kittens for even the brief moment they’re on screen. It’s really one of that episode’s few highlights.

Porthos: During the run of Enterprise, the only time we see Porthos interacting with another animal is when he’s vacationing on Risa with John in “Two Days and Two Nights.” Their shady-ass neighbor during their stay has a Chinese crested named Rhylo, and the two puppies don’t seem to get along! All they do is growl at each other. Where was this Porthos when there were actual threats on the ship for our category above?

Winner: Spot. One word: KITTENS! You always win with kittens.

—

5. Obedience

Spot: An entirely unnecessary sideplot during “Force of Nature” surrounds Data attempting to train Spot, to absolutely no avail. Geordi had apparently borrowed the feline to explore the lifestyle of cat ownership, and I’m sure he learned it wasn’t for him when Spot destroyed his stuff and then escaped. We also see that, while Data’s thought and effort to train Spot failed, her sneaky training of Data succeeded!

Porthos: A generally good boy most of the time, the only bad thing we could really blame on Porthos is when he pissed on the Kreetassans’ sacred tree in “A Night in Sickbay.” I’d mostly put the blame for that on Archer though, since he’s the one that brought the dog down planetside in the first place. A dog needs somewhere to piss after all, and we don’t even know what the protocol on the ship even is. Here’s hoping it was crewman Daniels that had to clean it up.

Winner: Porthos. What a good boy! Porthos generally doesn’t misbehave, especially when he might get some nice cheese as a treat. Spot on the other hand. She doesn’t even know that down is good and up is no.

—

6. Advancing the plot

Spot: Spot’s presence on the ship was critical for a couple of episodes too. When Data’s “Ode to Spot” starts appearing around the ship in “A Fistful of Datas,” the crew get clued into there being something wrong with the ship’s systems. And of course it’s the fact that her kittens come out as kittens while the rest of the crew is devolving into mutants during “Genesis” that allows Data and Picard to figure out a way to get everyone back to their correct states of being.

Porthos: Obviously, Porthos was a main factor during “A Night in Sickbay,” where his illness was the motivator behind Archer’s whole emotional state. However, most of those emotions were various forms of anger directed at the Kreetassans. A less anger-inducing example comes in “Chosen Realm” when Archer sends the “do not feed him cheese” message to Phlox in order to covertly pass information to the doctor.

Winner: Spot. Listen, the kittens were a part of this again, and whenever the kittens come up, they get extra points.

—

7. Inspirational quotes

Spot: Hey, it’s hard coming up with enough categories to fill a blogpost about two animals on Star Trek who are mostly there to give their owners something to care for. So consider this an excuse to talk about Data’s poem “An Ode to Spot” that we hear in “A Fistful of Datas.” It’s so damn cute for the android to want to express his feelings for his kitty, even when he’ll claim up and down that androids don’t experience emotions. This poem is proof!

Porthos: This one’s a stretch but it allowed me to include this category. When Porthos gets to go on an away mission in “Strange New World,” Tucker declares: “Where no dog has gone before.” Is it a good reference? Not really. But it’s certainly a milestone to have humans and canines making strides in the galaxy. That’s one small woof for a pup. One heckin’ bork for dogkind.

Winner: Spot. “An Ode to Spot” is so good there’s a whole Hallmark ornament of it. And when you press the button, it plays Data’s reading of the poem. The whole poem. That certainly beats a pun.

—

8. Eating habits

Spot: This feline is known to be very picky. So picky that Data has arduously been sampling at least 221 different formulas to try to find something she likes, as we learn in “Phantasms.” She hasn’t liked most of them, though her favorite does seem to be supplement 25.

Porthos: Give this boy some cheese! We first see in “Fight or Flight” that Archer can’t resist those puppy eyes when they pine for a piece of cheese, even though it definitely upsets Porthos’s tummy. In “Dear Doctor,” he’s in medbay with gastrointestinal distress caused by too much dairy. When Phlox is caring for him, we also see the two of them snacking on leeches together in “Doctor’s Orders,” supposedly with the possible side effect of clearing out his intestinal tract. He also refused to eat liver with shredded cheddar, usually his favorite, when he was moping about the presumed dead Archer in “Storm Front.”

Winner: Porthos: Cheese is indeed delicious, so we can get onboard with at least some of Porthos’s culinary favorites. As for the leeches… Well, what flavor are they?

—

9. Appearances in dreams

Spot: When Data is dreaming all over the place in “Birthright,” the whole escapade culminates with Spot in the captain’s chair on the bridge of the Enterprise-D and Data having a chat with his old man. Turns out it’s all been a part of Data’s programming, and seeing things that he connects with in his dreams is something Noonien Soong had planned as a next level for Data to explore. Thanks, dad!

Porthos: In the complete inverse of that whimsical (if stupid) Data plot, the dream that Archer has of Porthos in “A Night in Sickbay” is traumatizing. Archer is stressing out that Porthos won’t get over his Kreetassan illness and envisions a dog funeral attended by the rest of the crew. And then it turns into a sex dream about T’Pol (because they always do!) and it’s all just terrible.

Winner: Spot. Captain Spot! Now that’s an officer I can really get behind. And it’s a way better dream than a stress dream!

—

10. Other versions

Spot: The final category that I could think of is mostly an excuse to share a screenshot of Spot after she’s turned into an iguana in “Genesis.” That episode is so damn ridiculous. The rest of the crew is morphing into cool monsters, but they literally just swap in a normal iguana for Spot. At least make a puppet! And we haven’t even touched on the early appearances of Spot when she was apparently a Somali cat. Wonder what happened there?

Porthos: While the hosts of A Star to Steer Her By rarely agree on our opinions of the mirror universe, the reveal of mirror Porthos in “In a Mirror, Darkly” is a damn fine gag. Instead of the sweet, lovable beagle that Porthos is in the prime universe, he’s a Rottweiler who looks like he really wants to take a chomp out of Mayweather. Ya know, like everyone in the mirror universe.

Winner: Porthos. Rotties are beautiful puppers, even if they often get a bad rap. It’s a good and fitting reveal to see this alternative version of Porthos, while it’s just confounding and a missed opportunity for Spot to be an iguana.

—

Verdict

Did I consciously engineer this to end in a tie at 5 points apiece? Of course I did, and I’m glad it went this way because both Spot and Porthos are the best critters! We love them both, and it’s been a lot of fun having an excuse to highlight them for the blog this week. We could have created a tie-breaker question (like we did in the Yar-Ro post, which somehow ended up backfiring on us in the same way), but it’s really just the perfect conclusion because kitties and doggies are both good boys and girls!

—

Give your kitty or puppy a hug from everyone at A Star to Steer Her By! And also make sure you’re following along here because next week is going to be a doozy! We’re wrapping the first season of Discovery in our watch-through on the podcast over at SoundCloud or wherever you listen, so make sure you're caught up! You can also meow or bork at us over on Facebook or Bluesky. Now who wants some cheese?

9 notes · View notes

falling-star-cygnus · 5 months ago

Text

sometimes i wish i had freckles or vitiligo over my arms- instead of the odd time appearing mole here and there- so i wouldn't get the urge to tear my plain looking skin off

Dead Link : a link that no longer leads to its desired target webpage; this can occur when the domain been terminated, changed, or renamed

heheh... this was originally going to be the chapter where Vein and Xia Fei enter but uh... it decidedly took its own route

a Link Click Noragami AU pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.3.5 In Which, Cheng Xiaoshi Asks Too Many Questions

Lu Guang had really hoped the man was going to stay dead this time.

Realistically, he knew it was pretty much impossible to kill a god- at least permanently, but dammit. It had only been a month. Last time it had taken him nearly a full year to rear his stupid, braided head again. Why now.

The god glares at his phone, but it’s only when Shi Ái pokes his jaw that he realizes he’s gritting his teeth too.

“That’s a grumpy face..” his regalia ventures cautiously, astoundedly, as he prods at his fair friend’s cheek, “Everything alright?”

It’s enough to somewhat drag Lu Guang into the present. To loosen his hold on threads that had started to fray.

Shi Ái’s head was in his lap.

He had been playing some sort of mobile game on Lu Guang’s phone.

Vein was calling.

The god hits decline.

“Everything’s fine. Don’t answer calls from that number.”

“I’m not a child,” Shi Ái grumbles, even as he takes the phone back, “Why do we only have one phone anyway?”

“Because we’re poor.”

If Shi Ái was displeased by his god’s plain answer, he doesn’t vocalize it. There wasn’t really a point in disagreeing either, because they were- in fact- poor. Lu Guang was pretty, or so his shinki was insistent about, but looks didn’t matter when the majority of their district couldn’t see beyond the Near Shore.

The two just had to get by on offerings, and the occasional meal shared with other gods. Or Qiao Ling, now that she was a regular visitor in their lives. Again.

“Didn’t I have a phone when I was alive?”

Lu Guang drops a fist onto his forehead.

“ACK- OKAY, okay, I know! No knowing anything about my life as a human. Sorry.”

The ambient noises of Shi Ái’s game start back up again, providing a distant anchor for the pale haired god to reel in his heavy breaths. His shinki had been getting far too curious about such a thing lately. It was nerve wracking.

There had only been one timeline where Lu Guang had caved and told Shi Ái the truth. The full truth- everything about who he was, who they were, what he’d done. What he had to keep doing. It hadn’t ended well, of course it hadn’t, but..

Much like the cats his two favorite nuisances liked to compare him to, he shakes himself out. Not too much, though- he doesn’t want to dislodge his regalia. So it’s more of a head flick.

“...but why can’t I know?”

His anger spikes.

“I’ve already told you-”

Game quickly forgotten, Shi Ái takes away the comforting weight he’d settled on Lu Guang’s lap. He sits up.

“You told me that it corrupts the soul,” his regalia retorts.

“It does.” “But what does that mean!?”

“What do you think it means, idiot,” Lu Guang snaps, shutting his novel with a snap, “If you want to become a phantom so bad, then why don’t you-”

The god bites his tongue, and forces himself to breathe. All it would take to ruin this, to shatter this peaceful existence he had carved out for himself and him, was one wrong step. One word he didn’t think through, or hissed in anger, and Cheng Xiaoshi could-

He forces himself to breathe in through his nose, out through his teeth.

“Obviously I don’t,” Shi Ái snaps back, “But it can’t honestly be that bad-”

He keeps rambling on, keeps pushing, and Lu Guang feels his grip on the threads tighten. Feels a burn start on the back of his neck.

“Can’t you tell me just- one thing?”

No.

“Like- what was my favorite color? Was it different?”

Lime green, yellow, and orange. It wasn’t any different now, not really, but he didn’t like green as much as he liked sunsets and sunrises.

“Did I have different hobbies?”

No, he still loved photography and shitty phone games. Stop asking.

“I just don’t see how it’s fair that you get to know everything about me, and I don’t even know if I had parents!”

Stop…

“Did we know each other?”

…Asking..

“Did I travel?”

..Questions…

“What was my name-”

“SHI ÁI!”

Cheng Xiaoshi stops talking.

His mouth clicks shut- taken aback by the outburst of his soft-spoken god. It rattles the windows of their little shrine, pulls everything into a state of realism that burns. The dynamics of god and regalia, which so loosely existed between them, are firmly reestablished.

Lu Guang heaves, and throws himself off the couch- away from his shell shocked shinki. The walls feel too close, too different and too similar to everything he doesn’t want to think about. Timelines overlap before his eyes, splatters of rot and red and death-

“Sorry-” he wheezes, taking a staggered step towards the door, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Lu Guang…”

Strong arms wrap around his waist as his knees buckle, gently lowering the god to the floor as his chest spasms. Everything is so bright.

Vaguely, he can feel himself being moved around- adjusted until a large hand cups the back of his head and smushes his face into a familiar shoulder. It makes everything somehow so much worse, and yet- he doesn’t quite want to move. His neck burns.

“Hey- Lu Guang.” Shi Ái jostles him a little, and a thread of his worry unfurls in the god’s chest, “You have to breathe.”

The shinki’s hand drifts to the back of Lu Guang’s neck, before abruptly ripping away with a hiss of pain.

“Argh… what the hell? Did I-?”

Rough wood rushes up to meet Lu Guang’s palms as his regalia pulls away, and the god is left alone in their shrine. If being cradled in Shi Ái’s shoulder had made everything worse, then the silence that wrapped around his limbs was torture. The wood grains flip between warm brown and rust- solid and transparent.

Pure and dotted with warm amber eyes.

Did I fail again…?

Cool water gently trickles down his nape. It’s jarring enough to knock Lu Guang back into a mental space where he can hear-

“Ohh my gosh, oh my god,” Shi Ái whisper shrieks, “It’s not going away..”

What….?

Lu Guang reaches up a shaky hand to the back of his neck, but it’s quickly caught by Shi Ái’s damp fingers.

“Don’t- Don’t touch it!”

“Did you-”

“I’m sorry!” he sobs, his voice distraught to match the tight bundle of fire in the god’s chest, “I didn’t know- Well, I did know- but I wasn’t thinking- and now..”

Ah. He sort of understands the situation now. He’s not even mad about it, really, it was bound to happen eventually. No matter how pure a soul was, it was still human.

“Shi Ái-”

Water hits his neck again, in more sparse droplets.

“Shi Ái-”

“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to blight you! I was just- and you- Lu Guang..”

The god can feel the bite of it start to fade away, satisfied under the confession of sins. It still hurt, and probably would for a while yet, but it couldn’t be worse than that one god from Japan. Seriously, what do you have to do to be known from so far away? What does your regalia have to do?

Lu Guang shakes his head again to get himself back on track.

Shi Ái is still babbling apologies.

“SHI ÁI!” he’s much quieter this time around, but the result is the same, “It’s gone. Is your hand okay?”

“My.. hand? It’s fine. …went away when I went to get the water..”

And then suddenly he’s angry again: “Worry about yourself for once!”

Lu Guang scrubs his shinki’s leftover tears away, maybe more aggressively than he needed to as Shi Ái flails back. But he thinks it’s fair, considering.

“I am. It’ll transfer if I use you, you know.” a lie, a blatant lie. He didn’t care if all his skin turned to shades of purple and red, he’d endure the burn for lifetimes if it meant keeping this soul close.

“Ah-!? Wait, really!?”

The elephant in the room suddenly rears its head, immediately straining the air around the two. The god looks down at his clean hands and tries to ignore the blood staining them.

“I… know you want to know more. But-”

“I get it,” Shi Ái interrupts, sounding tired in all the wrong ways and frustrated as tucks his head into Lu Guang’s hair- as he rubs over his god's nape to be sure that the blight is really gone, “You wouldn’t react like that if it wasn’t... a serious outcome.”

And damn does that makes his ears burn with embarrassment.

#soon... soon veinfei will be added #the ramblings of a fallen star #link click #dead link #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #yingdu chapter #shiguang daili ren #yingdu arc #lu guang x cheng xiaoshi #cheng xiaoshi x lu guang #shiguang #found family #bridon arc #yingdu

10 notes · View notes

libellule-ao3 · 2 years ago

Text

The Snake's Duality

🔞 | One-Shot | 2 049 words

Also on AO3

Summary: Sebastian has just been released from Azkaban after more than three years in prison. 1 223 days to be exact.

His first instinct is to find Ominis, whose weekly letters rekinkled in extremis his desire to live, drained by the dementors, and he realise that a shadow reeking of malevolence is following him like a shadow.

Relationships: Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow => Friendship/love

⚠️ This story is rated 🔞. It contains graphic descriptions of violence & torture (Cruciatus curse, torture method inspired by lingchi, also known as "death by a thousand cuts", etc.), dark themes that may be disturbing to some readers.

Dark!Sebastian deserves his own warning: ⚠️

tags: ambiguous relationships, dark drama, sebinis, gauntlow, Sebastian is so protective he's dark, if that makes sense, POV Sebastian, Ominis Gaunt's father mentioned

Masterlist

Sebastian's wand whips through the air and an orange flash of magic strikes this bastard full force, his legs collapsing as if made of jelly. Then ropes spring from the end of his wand and bind him tightly. Sebastian glances furtively towards the entrance to this dark cul-de-sac that leads into Knockturn Alley, barely lit by the yellowish streetlamps that turn onlookers into shadowy silhouettes. None of them notice them. Proof of the effectiveness of his magical protection. Then, with unhealthy glee, the wizard watches the agony and contained rage wring his prisoner's bruised face.

This guy should have known better than to bother Ominis Gaunt.

An unbearable image of his oldest friend being followed down Diagon Alley by that dark wizard flashes through his agitated mind. He saw Ominis' haunted eyes again, tense with the anguish of feeling spied on, stalked like a beast. Unable to bear the situation any longer, the blind wizard probed his immediate surroundings with his echolocation magic and flushed out this invisible predator. For a moment, hope lit up his face as he muttered the name "Sebastian", before fading away as he realized that the man following him was not the one he had hoped for. The stunning spell he cast missed its target but offered him the opportunity to flee into a dark vortex of transport magic without being followed.

Sebastian clenches his fist around his aspen wand as it whips through the air again, letting the anger of this image perforate every nerve ending nestled in his target's tender flesh, like a thousand incandescent needles. Screams more excruciating than those of a prisoner tasting a dementor's kiss tear through the night and pierce the hermetic bubble of magic surrounding them.

"What did you intend to do? Why were you following him?" growls Sebastian for the third time.

Part of him doesn't give a damn about his motives, which he guesses effortlessly, but another, far more fearsome part yearns for them. Sebastian needs to hear the aims of this nuisance, so that they fuel his hatred even more. So that they give this destructive feeling a solid reason to exist!

"I don't know what you're talking about," replies his prisoner, denying any involvement in malicious schemes.

Sebastian's freckled face cracks into that boyish grin that makes some people want to kiss him, and others want to uppercut him. The anticipated pleasure of breaking through that resistance spreads like an oil slick through every cell of his being.

"Don't take me for a moron. Did you think you were being discreet? You've been following him around for at least a week. At work, on walks, at the opera... everywhere!"

Sebastian knows all about it. On his release from Azkaban, his first instinct was to find Ominis, whose weekly letters rekindled, in extremis, his desire to live, dried up by the dementors, and he realised that a shadow reeking of malevolence was following him like a shadow.

First flaw. The man turns deathly pale as he realizes the implications of his words..

“What do you want with him? Who sent you?" insists Sebastian.

The prisoner's stubborn silence is broken by a succession of cracking bones, then by the inhuman-sounding howls that emerge from his throat. This guy doesn't know that the sharp pain of fractures is nothing compared to the pain of their healing - the paradox of a pain as sharp as it is stabbing brought to a climax. That's why the bone-healing potion is always accompanied by powerful analgesics, of which this bastard will of course be deprived.

The nobility of his cause legitimizes all the dark, unhealthy tendencies of a sorcerer overtaxed by years of imprisonment in Azkaban and who has only managed to preserve a few remnants of benevolence from the dementors.

Sebastian grabs hold of his captive's hair, pulls his head back and shoves the vile contents of a vial of Skel-gro into his mouth. He then rubs his throat to force the swallowing reflex, keeping his mouth closed as he would with a small, recalcitrant animal.

Then he waits patiently for the potion to work on his broken skeleton. Beneath the skin, the bones realign, then re-solder. Inconvenienced by the unpleasant noise, Sebastian winces, without looking away.

The man is tough. Despite the excruciating pain, he still finds the courage to spit in his face.

"How could you know I was spying on him if you weren't spying on me? Me, I'm acting on the orders of a powerful person, but you... Look at yourself, boy! You're just another maniac on the streets of London..."

A punch shatters the man's jaw.

"It was Charon* Gaunt who commissioned you, wasn't it? Why? What does he want with Ominis?"

The man spews unintelligible insults and spits out a molar amid bloody mucus. Right on Sebastian's shoes!

The Gaunt name sends shivers down everyone's spine. It's a name synonymous with mysterious disappearances, Dark Arts and atrocities beyond imagination. The head of this family, Charon Gaunt, is a cold, ruthless man. The king of pure-blooded wizards and the dark arts. The one no one dares defy. Except his own son, Ominis, whom Charon wants at his command... And by extension, Sebastian Sallow.

"What did the dead man on probation say?" asks Sebastian, lifting his prisoner's chin with the luminescent end of his wand.

If Sebastian wasn't there, this guy would have hurt Ominis. Too bad for this guy, now that the gates of Azkaban have opened on his freedom, the wizard will always be there. And like all those who tried to hinder the well-being of his loved ones, this man will die under his wand.

But this one is a privileged one who will receive special treatment.

An invisible fire devours the prisoner's clothes with a crackle of sparks, then a severing charm sharper than a scalpel incises his naked body. Then another... The cuts are clean, precise. Superficial. His hand doesn't tremble, the fruit of inflexible determination. The blood beads, then trickles, creating a crimson lace against the pale skin.

At first, the man threatens, curses, promises a thousand abuses in retaliation for standing in the Gaunts' glorious way. But nothing works. As the incisions follow one another, relentless, his pride disintegrates and fear seeps through his bloody wounds.

The wizard doesn't stop as this henchman pisses piteously on himself, mingling the acrid smell of his urine with that of hemoglobin. His bloody agony feeds the relentless monster that consumes every cell of Sebastian Sallow.

Impotence now overwhelms the bastard, smothering his last glimmer of hope. He begins to beg for mercy through his tears, his nose full of snot. This predictable change of attitude stretches Sebastian's lips into a sinister smile. Let him take it out on himself and face the consequences of his actions with dignity, as Sebastian has done by facing each day for three long years. It was his punishment for killing Uncle Salomon, driven by rage against an intransigent authority figure who had dashed all his hopes of curing his sick sister. A man devoid of any understanding when it came to his rebellious nephew.

When he's finished, the guy is unrecognizable, bloodless, lying on the cobblestones draped in his own blood. Inert. Death has reaped him. Or rather, it has ripped his life from him, shred by shred, without anesthetic.

Sebastian turns away from his abominable creation, cleans his soiled shoes with a spell and brings the tip of his wand up to his own temple. Then he gently pulls it apart to extract a luminescent trickle of the last few hours' memories, which the sorcerer deposits in a vial destined for the Gaunt household. A warning that Charon Gaunt could fully appreciate in the Hogwarts pensine, providing him with a pretext to invite himself between the asses of the Headmaster, Phineas Black, unbeknownst to their respective wives.

Most people would probably feel guilt or disgust after torturing this man the way he just did, but Sebastian feels nothing. Or rather, he simplifies things by choosing to feel nothing.

Nothing except relief.

The wizard sighs, his chest lighter with the disappearance of this threat. Ominis is much safer now that Sebastian has annihilated him. And that's all that matters.

Although a reunion is impossible due to a soul too dark, intoxicated by the blackness of Azkaban, the wizard makes sure no one harms the only lingering light in his dull, dreary world. Not even him!

This scum deserves no burial, so Sebastian makes the body disappear into nothingness and leaves the scene.

He reappears on the outskirts of a modest residence, in the heart of a large clearing, surrounded by tall trees. Powerful protective spells surround the building, but they have never hindered Sebastian's incursions as he wraps this cocoon in his own magical shields. From the edge of the adjoining wood, he watches the room glow with a warm light and Ominis' silhouette, against the light, stops in front of the window, his face pressed against the glass and his blind gaze fixed on him.

It's as if he knows...

The thought fills him with emotion and his throat knots.

How long can Sebastian watch him live before desire consumes him? Every day, the wizard must fight against the intense need to find him again, which eats away at his every rational thought.

Forcing these impulses to recede before they take root, he looks up at the stars hanging from the velvet of the night, lingering on the gibbous moon slowly gliding across the sky. Then he turns his attention back to the house, where all the lights are now out.

Taking a few steps towards the building, he almost gives in to the urge to sneak inside, but as always, he clenches his fists to prevent himself from joining in and contaminating him with this gnawing darkness. It takes a Herculean effort!

Ominis is pure and vibrant, even though his family has long since stripped him of his innocence. Sebastian's darkness could dull his light, suffocate him... and that reminder alone keeps him away, but never too far. He remains in the shadow of Ominis Gaunt.

It's the only place where the sorcerer can be himself without harming him.

With a flick of his wand, he wraps himself in a veil of magic to conceal his presence and approaches his bedroom window, plunged in half-light. Moonlight caresses his sleeping figure. His gaze wanders over his pale face, where long black eyelashes spread like crescent moons over his prominent cheekbones. His lips, pink and dry from nervous nibbling, are parted in sleep. Looking at him like that, you'd think he was an angel. Sebastian doesn't know how much longer he stays watching Ominis Gaunt, looking at his forehead wrinkle in thought. He turns onto his other side, his back to Sebastian. The position reminds him of the time long ago when they slept together, curled up in the same bed at Uncle Solomon's, nestled innocently together like two spoons.

Every cell, every atom, in Sebastian is drawn towards his latest friend, and when he can't bear the tension any longer, when the pain in his chest becomes too overwhelming, he gently places his hand on the cold glass and steps aside. Even when everything inside him is screaming to satisfy his instincts.

It's a torture he submits himself to almost every night.

Ever since his dear sister died without having forgiven him for killing their uncle, his affection for Ominis Gaunt is the last good thing left in his life. So Sebastian will never again cause him the slightest grief by involving him in his criminal sins. Because if he ever did, he would lose Ominis forever - in the same way as if he let his sinister family target him. Then there would be no light left in Sebastian and darkness would engulf his whole soul.

Without a sound, the wizard leaves. Each step heavier than the last.

His best friend deserves a peaceful life, the carefree existence he's always been deprived of.

For that, someone has to protect him from the malevolent family he can't see. Wizards who won't bow to reason, let alone morality. Only to an implacable power that outclasses them.

And who better than Sebastian to fight evil with evil?

A/N: Charon was the ferryman of the Underworld in Greek mythology, so he's linked to the passage from one state to another. Considering that in my HC, the birth of Ominis' father marks the decline of the Gaunt family, this name is almost metaphorical, hence my choice of naming him so.

Thank you for reading!

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebinis #gauntlow #sebastian x ominis #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #🔞#dark sebastian sallow #Dark drama #Pov sebastian

51 notes · View notes

magnoliabutters · 2 years ago

Text

• THE SPIDER QUEEN •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: munson and henderson have a good o’talk...

warning: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; enemies to lovers trope, canon divergence, fluffy-wuff, season 4 spoliers, switching povs, moody boy kas, grief, y/n count: 1, moody boy dusty buns, violence, death/killing, character death, etc.

word count: 11.6k

reblogs & thoughtsy-watsies are appreciated!

• stories of eddie munson • season two • previous part •

note: potential need for tissues, not to toot my own horn or anything hehe, also highly highly encourage noting the dates & time to stay on track (i be bouncing)

grazi grazi grazi to my sweet ladies, ziggy (@trashmouth-richie, one of my fav authors) & miss nack (@nackrosor, loml) for spending the time to beta read & share your incredible thoughts and wisdom! also, doubly credit to nacky-nack because some of these words came straight from her extravagant brain & i love her so much.

i have never been so proud of the stories i’ve been creating and that’s cause of these two extraordinary writers. thank you, thank you for helping me grow! now, on to my longest post yet…

April 7th, 1986. 10:46pm.

Kas never thought he would respect a man in an open white blazer with a bright blue undershirt and yet, here he is - ready to follow him into battle if necessary. He is invested in this “Miami Vice” show. God, even the name sounds stupid, but he finds himself thankful that you had found a channel dedicated to it. A blissful escape from this shitty old thing called life.

There he sits with feet kicked up on the coffee table. A fresh stove-top cooked popcorn on his lap. The beautiful girl he loves sleeping soundly against his shoulder. He could die right here and be absolutely fulfilled. A twisted little smile sprawls on his lips as you curl your arm across his waist. The way your soft hair rests upon his shoulder and down to his bicep makes his heart explode and rebuild in a million puzzle-like pieces.

Who needs a working heart anyway?

Kas’ eyes are glued to the TV screen, desperately trying to erase the presence of the curly haired betrayal of a boy in his peripherals. He may have had trouble accepting the idea of Dustin at first, but now he’s just a nuisance at the bottom right of his eyeline. He will happily admit that he likes it better when the boy’s unconscious.

Although, he refuses to share how the curls of Dustin’s hair bring him back to each and every time Eddie ruffled them up with the palm of his hand. He is reminded of the happiness he felt in seeing the boy every day in school. The nostalgia floods his brain anytime Dustin’s yawning catches his attention.

Relief, another feeling that explodes within his chest. Relief in knowing that Hellfire would have yet another fearless leader once Eddie finally graduated - class of ‘86.

The excitement, unbridled and innocent excitement that followed their party’s adventures flying off the table and becoming a tangible reality. Right before everything got way too real...

The cracks of Crockett’s pistol blasts through the air. A shoot out. Miami’s finest detectives dive behind a brick wall as the fugitive sprays ricocheting bullets.

Kas jumps, startled by the noise, before rushing to find the remote. In his attempts, everything goes beautifully wrong. “Fuck, shit!” The popcorn flies and spills all over your beautiful sleeping body. An accidental kick of his feet and the unfinished beer bottles fall, spilling all over the table and onto the orange tinged carpet below.

In reaching for the remote, he about falls onto his stomach, spread across the floor, before finally hitting mute. With a deep exhale pumped full of exhaustion, he turns over onto his back, spreading his arms out across the carpet. He reluctantly raises his eyes to yours, only to catch you baring holes into his face. A tight lipped smile curls upon his lips as he mouths, “sorry” with nervous bouncing brows.

Another thing he didn’t expect was that the loud noise blaring from the TV would cause Dustin to begin rolling around with fluttering eyelids. The boy mumbles behind him, causing Kas’ eyes to open to extreme widths. He straightens his spine and turns before crawling his way back towards you. His torso flush against the hardened bottom frame of the couch. He bumps your right leg with his elbow, desperate to get your attention.

Thoughts begin to spiral in his mind, his lip quivers - terrified of what may happen once Dustin utters a word. Mortified by the thought of what he will say. It intensifies the frequency of his bumps on your leg.

Kas may not remember the whole story, but he can physically feel how his heart reaches for the boy. He recognizes that Dustin is the closest Eddie ever got to being a big brother. He feels the remnants of pride that regularly overcame him whenever he looked down on the boy. The thought of what he had and who he could become.

Eddie only knew him for less than the school year, but Dustin was so much more than some random freshie who barely learned the true art of Dungeons and Dragons. No, this boy was a pro - just like he was at that age. The only difference being that Dustin had friends, a party to play with before high school.

Henderson was his heir, the fucking prodigy. And fuck, does it hurt when the prodigy betrays the teacher!

Kas watches as your body perks up once realizing Dustin was slowly returning to the land of the living. You quickly stand and crash land upon your knees beside him. He really wished you hadn’t. He selfishly wanted you by his side, to help him not lose his marbles and destroy everything in his sight.

His teeth begin to grind as he watches you care for the boy. Your hands are delicate and soft as you try to help him wake. You care for him despite knowing that he left Eddie behind, the one person you claim to love the most in this world. Some loyalty.

He struggles to pull his eyes away, to keep himself from turning into a red hot ball of rage. Deep breaths have helped keep his mind at a leveled state, but hearing your comforting words crushes him to his core.

Kas returns his gaze upon you two when hearing your voice. “Dustin,” you say as you lightly push a curl behind his ear. He rolls his eyes with a scoff and comically stuffs another fistful of popcorn in his mouth from the thin layer that still rests inside the container. Apparently, you do that move with everyone - brushing hair behind one’s ear. The loving action he cherished so dearly. It feels wrong, undeniably wrong, to see you do that with someone else - let alone with him.

Dustin mumbles something, something that leads you to ask, “what?” so softly. Kas hums a growl at the thought of having to even process the words from his mouth, but he swore to you that he would try. Little did he know it would be this fucking hard.

The fire in his belly is difficult to describe and truly painful. He wishes he could be supportive, to be fully invested in the responsibility you have decided for yourself - to care for this boy. He just doesn't know how to look at you and your serene actions without feeling a sliver of treachery.

This boy is the reason Eddie died and turned into the monster that Kas is: a heinous demon that destroys everything in his wake while wearing the face of an angel.

Why couldn't he just have a few more minutes of paradise with you? To hold you in his arms, to feel you sink deeper into his chest. The sleep he craved beside your supple body was divine. All he wanted to do was grab your hand and rush you back up to that bed. To jump onto it and float the waves with you by his side. To forget there ever was an Eddie, a y/n, a Kas, a darlin’. To forget it all and start again. A new life filled with your sweet smile and endless laughter.

Alas, no. You were reminded of who Kas truly is before any extraordinary, amnesic life could begin. All because of him. Dustin Henderson did this, and he needs to pay.

Abruptly, Dustin staggers with fearful eyes as he pulls from you. Kas could tell that you were startled by the way your chin went several inches back into your throat. He knows that expression of yours very well. He revisits the sight on the backs of his eyelids any time he tries to fall asleep. How much horror he must have caused you while he was figuring it all out. The very same horror he forces you to relive each day. He will regret it all his life.

As an instinctual response to your worry, Kas stands with tightening fists, ready to pummel anything and anyone who troubles you. Your eyes fall upon him in such a way that he immediately disarms. Your gentle hand reaches towards him with a slightly cocked head. “It’s okay, Kas,” you say in a whisper. He sucks his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he shifts his eyes between you and the boy. He lets out a sharp breath from his nostrils before crashing back onto the couch carelessly.

Dustin looks his way with that same annoying terror on his face. It screams, “I’m about to pee my pants.” He had no reason to worry, as long as he listened to you. However, the terror persisting any time they make eye contact is becoming more and more difficult for Kas to bear. He’s positive Dustin never looked at Eddie this way. He’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the sadness that envelopes his chest at the thought.

"W-What is this?" Dustin asks while turning back to face you. His movements are hesitant and slow. Kas scoffs, kicking his feet back onto the table as he lazily reaches for a fallen kernel resting on a nearby cushion. He is almost offended that the boy couldn’t sustain the gaze in spite of his tangible fear.

"You're safe," you comfort, placing a hand on his shoulder but he pulls away harshly, making Kas sit straight up once again. It’s never too late to learn manners.

"No," he states. "What the hell happened?" You turn back to look at Kas, almost for support, but he gives you nothing. Why would he? You messed the bed, make it yourself.

"Maybe I should introduce you two?" you suggest, nodding back to Kas. Dustin's lip pulls up in a mixture of confusion and disgust. It’s clear he isn’t very fond of you. Kas loves the idea of being an outcast alongside you.

Dustin peers back at him with caution, yet eager and watering eyes before clearing his throat and returning to you. That look - jesus fuck, Kas hated that look. An inspirited gaze with raising brows before crashing down into a furrow and welling eyes. It has been some time since you have looked at him with such hope. The ogling stare that searches for something, or more accurately someone behind his muddy eyes. It is usually followed by a depressing combination of shock and hurt once the individual realizes what they were searching for no longer exists.

Dustin searches for Eddie, just like you used to. Apologies to the traitor. Eddie no longer exists.

"This is Kas," you introduce with softness to your voice. Your intonation comes off as though you were entertaining the name. Kas tries his best to remind himself that you had understood. You know that Eddie was gone, but the undeniable anger filling him is indisputable. It leads to the clenching of his teeth, the straightening of his back, and the flaring of his nostrils.

Dustin attempts to say the name, stuttering and stumbling like a child at the unfamiliar word. He continues, desperately trying to understand. “Kas, like - like Kas, the Bloody Handed? Kas, the Destroyer? Kas, Vecna’s most trusted lieutenant?”

Kas could see you wince at the words. You are desperate to keep the conversation calm and avoid all his triggers. But the boy clearly has his own annoying way of processing the information, blurting the sound of his immediate enemy as a result.

He growls as his jaw slightly shakes with how hard his teeth grind against each other. “How about Kas, the man whose aboutta break your nose if you keep yapping?” he spits out. Dustin quickly turns his way at the sound. He shudders in his seat, preparing for another altercation.

In an attempt to deescalate the situation, you slowly answer Dustin’s inquiries. “I’m not sure about all that,” you start, speaking directly to the boy. “But Kas, he’s - he’s different.” He looks at you with one raising brow and forward leaning chin, egging you on to continue.

“He may look like Eddie, talk like him, walk like him, even hug like him - if you’re lucky,” you quickly correct. “But he’s not Eddie.” You pause, dropping your eyes to the hands intertwined upon your lap. “I really need you to understand this, Dustin. Kas is not Eddie. They are two different people.”

As you spoke, Kas slowly moved his attention onto your chapped, pouty lips. Your inflection changed as your words continued. His ears are perked as he struggles to understand how you were feeling. How to help. Your solemn expression sets off a multitude of alarm systems in his mind.

His first thought is to scoop you off your feet, carefully supporting your neck and the back of your knees with his arms. He wishes to take you away from this place, to any reminder of the past and what you have lost.

His second thought, however, fuels the anger and resentment within him. The thought that your sadness, that your pain, is caused by Dustin and his aggravating need to know the truth. Finally, you take a breath as those tears you’ve been holding finally dive off your lashes.

“Eddie is dead…”

“… So please. If we can move on from this - if you can accept that Eddie is g-gone,” your voice hitches, leading you to take a slow breath before continuing. “Then we won’t have to worry about what happened earlier.”

Kas’ head tilts curiously as he observes your behavior. The words are falling easier and easier for your pretty lips, but the heartbreak resonating throughout your body is crystal clear and constant.

He wishes he could revel in the excitement, to celebrate the happiness that followed your understanding that Eddie is gone. The acceptance that has allowed Kas to live without being under his shadow. But how could he ever be happy when you were so sad?

Upon hearing your words, he is reminded of the detrimental actions that ripped the perfect morning with you from his hands. The precious morning and slumber that you both deserved. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through your freshly washed hair and watch as you fell asleep in his arms.

Kas fiercely avoids acknowledging the thought that he, too, is responsible for taking that away from you. That maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all Dustin’s fault.

April 7th, 1986. 8:12am.

Kas had an uneasy feeling as he took slow and hesitant steps down the stairs. Who could possibly be here? The knock seemed hurried, yet forceful. His first guess would be the cops, that maybe Rick got out of jail again and they’ve come to bring him back. Or what if it was a neighbor? One that saw some movement in the desolate house and called 9-1-1? Either way, a conversation between the police and Kas, Hawkin’s latest serial killer, is not going to end well.

He considers calling you down. A fresh, pretty face that can woo the police away. One that can lie and pretend that she has every right to be in Reefer Rick’s abandoned lake house.

No, he could never do that to you. He wouldn’t dare ruin the incredible image in his head of you resting, naked beneath the warm sheets waiting for his return. He couldn’t wait to drop these sweatpants and curl up next to you.

Nah, man. There’s no way he’s dragging you out of that bed. Plus, he knew, without a doubt, that you would be too busy dry heaving at the thought of lying to the cops to even try. A smile rips across his face. Shit, how he loves you with every fiber of his being.

As he finally hits that last step, Kas dramatically slumps his entire body upon realizing Reefer Dicky Dick Rick doesn’t have a god damned peephole. He’s convinced that peering through the windows like an idiot would be way worse than just opening the door.

With a sharp inhale and roll of his eyes, Kas flings the door open. The wind wafts in, flying his curls back with the intensity of his speed. All to begrudgingly land his eyes on …

“Eddie?”

Kas’ entire body runs cold as his breath is stalled in his chest. The eyes, the hazel innocent eyes before him. Irises bight and clear as day when flush against the pink of his tearing eye. A reddish plump to his nose and cheeks. The trembling lip that slowly whispers a second “Eddie” that Kas is too astonished to notice.

Dustin Henderson. The two comrades, friends of war, partners, brothers were left stunned at the sight of each other.

Several minutes pass and the boy is the first to break the silence. “Ed-,” he starts, but Kas is quick to stop him in his tracks.

“Don’t call me that,” Kas spits out with a deadpan expression. He could feel his entire body shutting down, one muscle at a time. His breath is completely ripped from his lungs as he desperately seeks dissociation, any method of escape from who he must face.

Pain strikes Dustin’s whole, causing the slightest twinge of his brow. He takes a step back with fluttering eyelids as he struggles to comprehend the situation.

Kas, however, is too busy wishing he could disappear to notice. Wishing that he could turn back time, tell you to hide so that you both could giggle under the fresh sheets until the knocking dissipated.

Lost in his thoughts, Kas didn’t see the boy’s extending hand before it was gently placed against his forearm. “Don’t!” he yells, raising his tainted arm as he stumbles back into the living room.

Dustin follows him inside with worried floating hands, prepared to catch if needed. He kicks the door closed with helpful intentions. But the slamming door causes Kas to stop dead in his tracks, which in turn causes Dustin to crash against his torso.

Without a second passing, Kas slams his hands against the mop head’s shoulders. He digs the weak boy into the wall beside the door. Dustin yelps in pain as his hips thrash forcefully back onto a side table. A sharp sound snaps through the air as a glass bowl shatters and keys scatter across the carpet.

“Don’t touch me,” Kas demands sternly. “And don’t call me that,” he adds with a heavy exhale, as though the words have become routine. “I - I won’t,” Dustin blurts out with a fast sucking breath.

Kas slowly nods with fluttering lashes as he stumbles back. Tears well in his eyes as he struggles to discern reality and memory. Dustin Henderson, Dustin. Dustin. The name floods his body with a volatile mixture of Eddie's and his own emotions.

Is he ecstatic? Is he worried for his friend? Why was he crying? Why did he push him against the wall? That must have really been scary. Maybe he should apologize? Apologize?! For what? Dustin left him to die, rotting away in front of his family’s trailer.

“They wished you death …. They watched as you were torn apart.”

Vecna’s chilling voice plays on repeat in his head. It’s all - It’s too much. His head spins despite the debilitating feeling of his skull being crushed. Tears roll down his cheeks like cinder blocks. He cannot control them, cannot stop them even if he tried.

He has never felt pain such as this. A pain so shocking that all bodily systems are stalled. His chest begins to heave just as his sight becomes blurry. Any memories tied to you and your anxiety attacks have rapidly been erased. He has nothing, nothing to help him. No one to support him in this unbearable situation. His heart pulses like the clacking of a horse’s hooves, while also freezing every five beats.

Kas instinctually bends over, falling into a kneel. His chest struggles to rise and fall with each breath taken. His brain is overloaded, cutting all ties with consciousness.

Dustin rushes to his side with a light and comforting touch upon his best friend’s back. He is very careful not to touch the pink scars ripping across his waist and ribs when catching him. “Eddie,” he calls out softly.

“Eddie…”

“…Eddie”

“Eddie?”

“EDDIE!”

“Oh god! Oh god, Eddie,” Dustin cries as he lands his knees harshly against the cold floor. He pulls his idol’s body onto his lap. Tears stream down his face, dropping onto Eddie’s cheeks below.

Eddie’s entire body was on fire. So much pain but all he cared about was that he finally proved to himself that he was no coward. By the look of Dustin’s blubbering crying face and the fact that he couldn’t feel his toes, he knew that this was it. Time to go out like a rockstar.

“Bad huh?” Eddie coughs up. He could taste the familiar metal on his tongue. It wasn’t the first time blood was in his mouth.

“No, no,” Dustin starts. “You’re going to be fine. Just gotta get you to the hospital, okay?” His voice keeps hitching. The boy brushes hair from his cheek with a cold breath on his face.

Eddie nods his head in a desperate attempt to make his little brother feel better, but the blood keeps coming up. He gags on it before muttering, “I think …” The pain shoots up his body in pulsating electrical bursts. “Common,” he utters, trying to hype himself up. He had only a few more words to say before he was done, before he could rest.

“I think I just … I think I just need a second, okay?” He whispers. He struggles to keep his eyes open, slowly becoming more tired as the minutes pass.

He gets flashes of your smile burning bright. Your laugh, how you cock back your head with each giggle. Your fingers intertwined with his, always such warm hands. A loving smile spreads across his devilish cheeks. “Okay,” Dustin whimpers out in between sobs.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” Eddie blurts out with a bit of a chuckle. “No, no, no, no,” Dustin weakly smiles, letting out a bundle of spit with a stifled cry. “You didn’t run.” A cough rips from his throat again. The blood drains from the side of his mouth.

Happiness fills his aching chest as the thought of Dustin as President of Hellfire plays in his head once again. A thought he fantasizes about often. His eyes close as he sees the light behind the boy’s curly head. “You’re going to have to take care of those sheep for me, okay?”

Dustin lets out a soft whale as he struggles to speak. “No, you’re going to do that yourself,” he whispers stubbornly. Eddie’s brows furrow at the words. He uses all of his might to crash his palm against Dustin’s forearm.

“Nah, man,” Eddie grumbles. He hated when the boy second guessed himself. Dustin never saw his potential, never felt the confidence he could easily have. Hey, that was the same shit you would say about Eddie all the time. Funny, full circle.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna look after them,” he demands. “Say it.” He wanted the words to come out harsh and strict, bringing the good old dungeon master voice back out for one last ride. He didn’t expect the coughing fit that would erupt from his attempt.

“I’m… I’m gonna look after…” Dustin starts as the words fall into a jumble of sobs. “Good,” Eddie answers with another harsh cough.

A smile spreads across his face, the smirk that is clearly copyrighted by the Munson family. “Good, cause I’m actually gonna graduate,” Eddie starts. His smile grows deeper and deeper as he remembers those pretty little eyes of yours. “And I’m gonna marry my Lolly. I think it’s my year, Henderson.” His heart warms - he likes to think it’s because of his incredible future with you, instead of the blood pooling in his lungs. “I think it’s finally my year…”

“...I love you man.”

“I love you too.”

“… Eddie”

“Eddie …”

“Eddie!”

Kas moves with a body strictly set on autopilot. His mind is screaming, screaming his name. His heart races, beating thickly in his ears. He could still feel Dustin’s tears falling onto his cheeks. He feels the boy leaving. How his pillow, his knees, quickly fall from beneath him. Dustin’s weeping voice as he is pulled away and Eddie is left behind in the Upside Down.

Before he could stop himself, Kas grabs Dustin’s hands off of his body. He wraps his calloused fingers around his wrists, slamming them harshly against the wall. “What the hell are you doing here?!” He screams into the adversary’s pathetically whimpering face.

“I-It’s me,” Dustin stutters out, but each word that leaves his lips peaks his anger. Kas yells out a grunt as he digs his fist thick into his collar. He lifts the small boy up and throws him against the floor. Henderson went flying across the living room, sliding upon the carpet.

Everything became red. A smashing of his knuckles across Dustin’s cheekbones. It hurt, but not as much as when his supposed friend left him behind. This makes Kas feel a whole lot better.

April 7th, 1986. 11:12pm.

Looking back, Kas definitely needed that 14-hour cool down period. He scans over your crushed frame, but your eyes are fixed upon Dustin’s face. His nostrils flare as fluttering lashes drop a tear. He roughly brushes it away with a single finger against his red cheeks.

With a sniffle, Dustin whispers, “O-Okay, hi Kas. I’m Dustin.” His hand shakes awkwardly as he tries to stand. Your arms reach for him, careful not to let him fall. Despite your unfortunate patient, Kas has always adored your caring soul. The dutiful World War Two nurse tending to his eternal wounds. He loves you, not only due to your very beautiful body, but everything within its gorgeous shell - not that you’d ever believe him.

Dustin looks down at his wavering hands and ripped shirt. His fingertips press against his cheeks. He winces in anticipation of a pain that never comes. “How did I,” he stutters, a gulp thick in his throat. “W-what is this?” Kas finally stands - it was his time to shine. He peers down at Dustin through his cheeks with a lifted chin. The boy stumbles back at his movement, afraid of what may come next.

Just how Kas likes it: seeing his prey shaking with barely contained fear before him. At least they know the truth - that he’s a monster in sheep’s clothing.

“I healed you,” Kas starts with a scoff. “Me, I did that,” he points to Dustin’s weak body. His smirk and bouncing brow shoots your way, making sure you acknowledge his selfless act. That annoyed, deadpanned face of yours returned, it’s one of his favorites.

Dustin looks to you for clarification, some sort of understanding of what the hell happened to his fallen friend. Kas hated it, hated that he looked at you instead of him. Like every word falling from his mouth needed to be fact checked by you.

“Hey, Henderson,” Kas calls out, a whistle to follow. “Eyes over here. Daddy’s telling a story.”

Kas stalls when he sees both your eyes pop out of their sockets. Dustin’s nostrils are flared as he takes a slow inhale. You quickly drop your gaze to your feet, while stifling a cry. What the hell? Why did the world come to a grinding halt?

“Vecna saved me,” he continues hesitantly. The words slowly drop from his mouth, each elongated word. “You know, after you left me to rot.”

The boy’s neck extends as shock fills him to his very core. Fire burns true in his little hazel eyes. Something Kas, nor Eddie, has seen outside of the D&D table.

Oh hello Nog, the Artificer - it’s been a while.

“Who left you?” Dustin challenges with a finger addressed to the man before him. It makes Kas laugh, enjoying the fire burning within him just like the good arsonist that he is. “‘Cause it sure as shit wasn’t me.”

He steps forward in a way that, involuntarily, spreads shivers down Kas’ spine. A shiver not formed due to fear, shock, nor worry. A shiver that inadvertently fills his body with admiration and respect. “Steve had to pull me away from you,” he says sternly, dangerously entering the other's space.

Kas’ left brow raises as a smile sprawls across his face. A slow chuckle erupts from within that could scare away Vecna himself. He is callous and cold. His eyes reddening as each word is spoken. “You’re a fucking liar, Henderson,” a cold stern tone to his voice. Kas takes a step towards Dustin, egging him on. “You don’t want to know what I do to liars.”

Dustin scoffs, suddenly taking the interaction lightly. “Why don’t you start off by telling me exactly who said that I left you?” he asks with rigid eyes. Kas scoffs too, rolling his own, as his lip pulls up on his left side. “Oh,” the boy snickers, making Kas’ entire care-free persona develop into fuel lit fire. “Let me guess, Vecna told you that? Just like how he told you he saved you?”

“Watch your fucking tongue,” Kas spits through gritted teeth. He could barely see your hands or hear your voice as you attempt to calm the situation. All he could see was red. The resilient, fascinatingly familiar color flushing across his sight. He just needed one good reason to wreck that pretty little face of his.

“I watched you die and I was there until the very end,” Dustin yells, completely matching his opponent’s energy. “I would have never left you behind.”

“But you did!” Kas screams into his face. His shoulders raise as he puffs his chest, entirely prepared to destroy the small being. But, fortunately for the boy, you are a sneaky one. A slow palm to his chest, resting with just the right amount of pressure on his sternum. He could feel another hand pressing into his lower back. And somehow he could breathe again. The red slowly dissipating from his mind. All his senses return with lightning speed. It all hit a bit too hard as he struggles to process the next words from his mouth.

“No, I fucking didn’t!” Dustin spit outs with disdain. Your hand still glued to Kas’ hot skin, the only thing keeping the other alive. “Steve ripped me from you, I hated him for weeks…” He loses track of his words as though the memories shot through his precious thinking cap.

“No, no,” Kas mumbles but the flashes ring true. Dustin cried onto his dying body. He screamed, pleading for Eddie as he was dragged away by Harrington. He didn’t want to go, but Steve was following through on his promise - to protect Henderson. They loved Eddie. His friends would never have left him behind.

“No!” Kas shouts, pushing the boy back, but he persists, taking a step forward to show his older brother that he meant every single world.

“It took me so long to see that he was saving my life,” Dustin utters before powerfully pushing two hands against his chest. “I was ready to die with you in front of that trailer!”

Kas bounces back, rocking on his heels with minimal physical damage but holy shit did that fuck over his brain and everything he’s come to know as true so far.

“I should have!” the boy shrieks. Tears stream down his cheeks in a way that breaks Kas’ unbeating heart, in a way he’ll never admit - maybe not even to you. Kas coughs, clearing his throat before plopping back onto the couch. The room is silent until Tobbs calls out to his fellow detective.

Kas clings onto the TV as a tool for his dissociation. A small voice in his head begins to beg for forgiveness. Regret encapsulates his chest cavity as he acknowledges the pain he caused to not only his prodigy, but to you. The betrayal was his own.

He should have remembered, should have corrected Vecna, but he had nothing. Not a single clue as to what was happening. He was lost, alone. He knew his memories were not his own, but he didn’t care. Anger is easier than loneliness. It wasn’t until he saw you and the graceful flash of your smile that he second guessed those thoughts.

All he has now is Eddie’s memories from before. He would only need one hand to count how many he’s got, but that’s no excuse. He should’ve remembered. He had an inkling, some part deep deep within him that immediately rejected the idea of Henderson leaving him behind but he didn’t listen.

Why didn’t he listen? How could the idea that everyone would leave him behind be so believable? That he wasn’t worthy of true friendship? What could he have done to deserve that?

Kas squints before applying pressure from his thumb between his brows. He could feel the beginning of a headache scraping against his forehead. Muffled voices wrack through the air as he struggles to recollect what is true and what he was told.

You and Dustin begin talking about Eddie and his last moments. He now finds distraction from his own thoughts in your conversation.

He, barely, tries to not eavesdrop as you nervously ask, “Did - did he have any message or - or, um, did he say something about me?” His ears perk for an answer that never came. He looks up to see Dustin shaking his head, which forces his heart to sink in his chest.

Kas instinctually seeks your gaze, knowing without a doubt that this answer would completely destroy you. He watches as your face pales and your body stills. He struggles to deny every fiber in his being that screams for him to hold you. As much as they pleaded and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t manage to move from his seat. His own body betrays him in the midst of all this new found information.

“Tell us the story.” Your mouth barely moves despite the power of the words that fall from your lips. Kas cannot deny the excitement he feels upon being reminded of your undeniable strength. You were easily the strongest woman he has ever met, even if he did remember all the women in his life. He turns towards Dustin, awaiting the story that even he is curious to hear.

The boy, however, tucks his hands beneath his pits and crosses his arms over his torso. “What’s going to keep him from punching my face in again?” he spits out. Again, he looks right at you as though you were the handler to the rabid dog that Kas was.

“He won’t hurt you,” you say through grinding teeth. It was enough to make Kas smile and tilt his chin back and forth, like a giddy girl. He sits back, completely relaxed, knowing that you have his back.

Dustin takes a breath, lowering his eyes before him, but not before cracking his neck to the side. “Eddie was dealing with Chrissy,” he starts.

You quickly interject, “Yeah, he had a date set with her.” Your eyes fall as you think further. “It - It was a Friday, right?”

The boy nods his head as he tightens his arms upon his chest. “Vecna killed Chrissy right in front of Eddie.”

The veins in your neck tighten as you clench your teeth. Eyelashes flutter back tears. Kas cannot help but want to protect you. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asks in a low tone. The act surprises Dustin. His eyes flash between you two as he realizes the connection you have.

You take a deep sigh before walking over to the couch beside him. You crash down, hooking your arm around his bicep. You lean into the meat of his arm as your eyes close. “Keep going, Dustin.”

Kas pulls you in, holding you closer than he thought possible. He would do anything to spare you from this hurt, but he also knows whole heartedly that you needed to hear it - just as he does. “After that, Eddie went into hiding. Cops obviously pinned it on him… and Max, well, she saw him leave the trailer in a hurry-”

Your head raises upon hearing the name. Kas turns to you for guidance as it remains unfamiliar. “Wait, Max was a part of this?” you ask in disbelief.

Dustin stalls before answering. He swallows a huge gulp as he squeezes his hands into a fist. “Yes.” Your brain wracks with ideas, struggling to understand exactly who else was involved in this dangerous ruse. “We went searching for Eddie and it led us back to here,” he mutters as he takes a quick glance around.

“We found out Vecna’s past and how to fight him, and we were ready,” he slows down his words. “We had a plan and we were going to stop him.” His bottom lip begins to quiver. A hand catches his balance upon the back of the recliner. “Something went wrong, and we needed more time.”

His eyes suddenly bare holes into yours. You could see the tears welling within them as he struggles to let out the next few words. “He went back,” he swallows, “We would’ve lost so many people if not for him, but by the time I could get back…” He drops his head, shaking it as those fists crash against the tops of his thighs.

Kas observes every inch of Dustin’s face, of his body language. He understood his words to be true, his feelings to be true. He is distraught. Dustin may have made it out of there alive, but a piece of him still rests on that road right beside Eddie. Dead and hollow. A piece he may never recover.

He rallies the courage from within to finish their interwoven story from his blurred recollection. “I-” he starts. The pronoun explodes a combination of familiarity and disorientation. “I died in his arms.”

Kas could see your head immediately shooting his way. It made a small smile burst from his lips and shortly take it away. “But after you left, I heard someone. I thought it was you,” he turns your way with a weak grin. Tears flow from the ducts of your eyes, a steady current. “I don’t think it was.”

His voice hitches before he clears it and attempts to continue. “I died a fucking hero,” his eyes raise forward as he is flooded by the reminiscent feeling of bravery and pride. “I wasn’t a coward - no, not anymore.”

You bite your lip as your arms wrap around his neck. His own tears begin to fall as you pull him into your chest. “You were always a hero, baby,” you whisper into his red, hot ears. "You saved me before any of this happened."

His sobs destroy the very fabric of your being. A sound that will forever haunt your dreams. You take it in waves, all of his pain without regret. Your face slowly becoming stone cold, tears ceasing to exist as you tighten your hold of him.

Kas clears his throat, slowly pulling away from your soaked shirt. Your hands slowly float to his knees. He looks back at Dustin, his close friend, without anger or resentment. “Vecna brought me back. He told me to kill you,” he mutters while shaking his head. “I came back different.” Another frog is stuck in his throat as he struggles to take in breaths without falling into another sobbing fit. His eyes drop to the hands in his lap. “I wasn’t a killer before, but I am now.”

Dustin looks your way in a panic, desperately wanting to know more. “He didn’t make me, you know? He taught me how and I just kept it up.” Kas calmly nods as he feels the blood drain from his face. “Eleven people,” his voice hitches as he meets the boy’s innocent eyes.

“Tammy Thompson, Ryan Trent, Andy Johnson, Carol Carver, Dave McKinney, Paul Richardson, Justine Hutch, Dick Newman, Kristie Peterson, Olivia Wilson, and Vickie McNulty.”

Kas keeps his head down. Not a single part of him wants to see the terror on either one of your faces. The silence floods the air like a stuffy smoke. It’s almost palpable, almost as though you could feel it weighing down on your defenseless body.

“Vickie.” Dustin slices through the smoke, a wavering tone to his voice. “Vickie from marching band?”

Kas nods his head ever so slightly while struggling to swallow the biggest gulp stuck in his throat.

He didn’t want to raise his eyes, no not at first. He could remember her screams, particularly hers as they sounded like they were perfectly extracted from Jason Voorhees’ machete. The red of her hair mixed beautifully with the crimson that drenched her clothes.

He would be lying if he said he had any remorse in the kill. He just saw someone he knew. A poor girl smudged with dirt and muck as she struggled to get out from under the library’s debris. He scared her, just a little, to get that blood pumping quickly into his mouth.

“Yes,” Kas finally answers. “Vickie from marching band.”

Dustin almost collapses backwards, but swiftly rushes to land onto the chair before him. A completely new pain strikes Kas’ heart as he realizes that Vickie meant something to him. Your hand squeezes at the sides of his thigh as you, too, hesitantly land your head against his shoulder. Comforting him, even though you are shocked by his doings.

“I think I need a break,” Dustin mutters. Kas raises his eyes to see that the boy had turned a shade of green. He runs out the front door and vomits off the side of Rick’s porch. A solid tear runs down Kas’ cheek. What has he done?

While the two are inside, Dustin struggles to keep himself upright. His entire torso is flush against the wooden porch. His eyes almost bulging with each retch.

Robin has been searching for weeks to find Vickie. She’s grown so close to the McNulty family, determined to find her across the Upside Down. She refuses to acknowledge the possibility of her death, the possibility of not being able to save her through all the party's efforts and losses.

How is he going to tell her about this?

But amongst the sadness, he cannot deny the feeling of relief in his belly. Eddie is back. Even if it’s some weird, murderous version of him, he can still see him - talk to him. He doesn’t have to pretend to speak to the mist over Lover’s Lake anymore. He doesn’t have to think of a world that Eddie Munson isn’t a part of.

Sure, his mentor looks different. Much more shirtless than usual. Dustin never thought he would see him in anything but ripped jeans. His hair is longer, smooth and less matted. The contrast between his dark locks and skin reveals how much paler he’s become. Red eyes are a nice touch that he can appreciate when they aren’t paired with a beating.

When Kas speaks, the boy swears he could see sharpened canines. Were those the very knives that dug into his skin before he passed out?

Regardless, Dustin has his brother back and the happiness that consumes him is undeniable. He would accept him with open arms in any condition.

A tenacious brotherhood built on fantasy, triumphs, and defeats. A deep connection between a Master Inventor and his Dungeon Master. He wishes he could go back, back to when the worst thing that happened was that D&D got canceled because Corroded Coffin finally got a gig.

All he can do is wish.

September 16th, 1985. 8:43pm.

“Yeah, well Mike’s got a girlfriend cross country,” Lucas shares, desperately running away from the attention placed on his and Max’s relationship.

“What the hell,” Mike gripes as Gareth places a firm hand at the back of his neck. He shakes it while releasing a hellish laughter. “Alright Mike, where’d you meet her? I only slightly think she’s made up.”

The group laughs as Eddie watches them from his Dungeon Master’s throne. His foot hangs off the edge with a knee to his chest, hands playing with a small ripped paper.

He is known for his transparency. Whatever he feels is perfectly displayed upon his face. The mood for today is an abundance of annoyance, clear in how he lifts the side of his lips and his eyes roll with each passing second.

“I met her here actually, she just moved away,” Mike shares. “Her name’s-”

Eddie slams his hand down onto the table with a force that shakes the auditorium floor. “Why are we talking about maidens?” he asks with a booming voice as he stands from his seat. “We should be talking about how the party’s going to fight Lolth tomorrow,” he hints.

Dustin’s eyes widen as he slowly asks, “What are you talking about?” He peers around the room, seeing the entire party with mixed expressions of shock and gaping mouths.

Eddie huffs in response, rolling his eyes in annoyance, as he grabs his books and map. “No jerking off tonight, boys. You’re gonna need your throwing hand.”

The party begins to pack up after a rather rough section of the campaign. Only Lucas, Jeff, and Dustin survived, while the rest await their rebirth. Dustin’s brows pull as he watches his fearless leader. The man who is always moving is now perfectly still. He takes heavy breaths as he grips tightly against the top of his chair.

“You coming?” Lucas calls out as he and Mike begin to walk down the stage’s stairs.

“I’ll just meet you there,” Dustin says, waving his hand for the two to leave. He has been trying to find an opportunity to buddy up with the President of Hellfire, maybe this was his chance. “So, Eddie, do you have a sec?” he asks sheepishly.

Eddie now had his forehead plastered upon the chair as his fingers nervously tap on its sides. He groans as his way of replying to the youngling. Dustin lets out a soft chuckle as he nervously asks, “You okay?”

Eddie slowly raises his head as a smile lifts to the right of his cheek. “Yeah, I’m good,” he says with squinting eyes. “Hangovers don’t feel like they used to.” He raises his arms to stretch them before rolling his neck.

“I was wondering if, uh, I could get your advice on something?”

Eddie’s eyes perk as he drops his arms and slides into his chair like a snake. “Why yes, the doctor’s in,” he beams with his smile.

Dustin laughs while pulling a chair out and plopping into the seat. “It’s about girls - uh, maidens,” he starts.

Eddie nods furiously, gesturing with his hands for him to continue. “What is her name?” he inquires. Dustin drops his head nervously, “Susie.”

Eddie’s eyes close as he smiles. “Ah, Susie,” he whispers in acknowledgement. He leans back into his seat, taking a big whiff of the young love in the air.

“Yeah, she, uh, she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I met her back in camp about a year ago and she lives in Utah, but I, uh, I think I love her and I’ve never said that to someone before,” Dustin rambles.

Humming, Eddie sinks back into his chair. His expression is happy and proud of his little freshman. “Well, little man, it sounds like we’re in the exact same situation. If you figure it out, you let me know,” he dismisses with a chuckle.

Dustin is taken aback. A king like Eddie having trouble with girls, uh - maidens? He’s a rockstar for christ’s sake, what kind of problems could he have? “What’s her name?” he asks, just as plainly as Eddie did before. He snickers beneath his grin as he rests a chin upon his fist.

“Let’s just call her Lolly,” Eddie lets out with a breathless chuckle. A coy smile sprawls across his lips.

Dustin’s brow raises with curiosity as he dives in more information. “Lolly, like … Lolth?” he asks, tucking his chin into his neck in excitement. His eyes widen as he lovingly awaits his DM’s answer.

Eddie blows out a raspberry before sinking even further into the throne. He shakes his head while creasing his eyebrows. “Did you nickname her after our next boss?” Dustin laughs out incredulously.

“Maybe,” Eddie retorts in a sing-songy voice. He scoffs, throwing his head back. “Go ahead, honestly, tell me that Lolth isn’t a smokin’ hot babe.”

Henderson smiles, enjoying his mentor’s flustered face. He shrugs, nodding his head - knowing it isn’t wrong. “She must be a badass,” he utters.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Eddie adds, running his tongue over the front of his teeth. “She’s my spider queen,” he hisses with excitement.

Dustin giggles alongside Eddie. Their smiles fill the room with a rose tinted ambience flooded with nostalgia and happiness between old souled friends. The connection between them was palpable, undeniable. Eddie noticed it the second he laid eyes on the small fella. He knew there was something special about him, and he has yet to be proven wrong.

“In all seriousness, Henderson,” Eddie says lightly, coming down from his laughing fest. “You should tell her. It’s a risk, yeah, but love isn’t really something you can hold onto. Trust me, it eats away at you more than you can imagine. It physically hurts not to say it,” he takes a deep breath. “You’re lucky you don’t have to see her every day.”

His words peak Dustin’s interest. Who is this maiden? Has he seen her before? Does she go to Hawkins High? He’s never seen his DM so vulnerable, and he revels within the precious moment.

“You can tell her too, Eddie,” he whispers, careful not to upset him. The President raises his eyes and stares behind his curly chocolate bangs. “What if she loves you too?”

Eddie’s keen smile pulls to one side as he shakes his head. “She doesn’t even know me,” he mutters, leaning back into his chair.

“Then let her get to know you, man,” Dustin encourages. With a smile, he starts, “A wise man once told me that love was risky but it’s not something you can hold onto-”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Screw you, Henderson,” he mutters with a low hummed chuckle. His head cocks to the side as an idea forms in his mind. He leans his elbows onto the table as he locks eyes with the boy. “Let’s make a pact, right here and right now.” Dustin encouragingly nods. “You tell Susie and I - I’ll tell Lolly,” the words start to lose their muster as he continues.

“You got yourself a deal, Munson,” Dustin slams his hand against Eddie’s, giving him a good shake. A contract that would build the very foundation of their friendship.

April 7th, 1986. 12:11am.

Your mind feels like a dead plane about to crash into the ocean. A slow spiral as you fall from the heavens and dive into the horror show below. First row, VIP ticket. Guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with a true killer.

Without noticing, your hand slowly slips from his arm. Fingers hook onto your chin as you struggle hard to process the information. To make sense of something that just shouldn’t make sense.

“You didn’t know who she was,” you start. Your closed eyes tickle lashes against your cheek. “You - you didn’t.”

Kas’ soft, calm voice breaks through the mist, bringing you back down to that ocean floor. “I did,” he murmurs. “I killed her, and I did it because I knew her.”

You turn to him with tears flooding your vision. The breath is sucked from your lungs, unable to take in more. You finally hit the water - it’s time to sink. “Tell me, just,” you gulp, shaking your head out as your mind screams for you to run. “Make me understand, please.” You turn to him, heaving sobs as you do. “Why did you do this?”

He drops his gaze, not wanting another second of your crying face to be burned into his mind. He hurt you, again. Regret, again. All for an unneeded kill he made so carelessly.

Vickie’s red hair bobbed so effortlessly in the mucky mist of the New World. He immediately recognized her from that unfortunate junior year that he had to take band for his elective. Despite the tragedy, she still was perky and determined to get out.

And that’s why. She had hope, and all he wanted to do was crush it.

Kas hesitantly reaches for you, wanting to comfort you and distance himself from the situation. The very act shakes you to your core, causing you to cower to the other side of the couch. “Don’t,” you say plainly. He drops his eyes while clenching his jaw in pain.

Who did he have to blame this time? It’s not like Henderson was the one who brought up their names. It certainly wasn’t you. You knew he had a list, a list of people who died the way you should have, but he knew you would never want to know who.

And yet, he gave you just that. It breaks any perception that you had of him. The person who took care of you upstairs, who loves you - yeah, that’s a serial killer. Vecna took everything from you. He could care less about how his kills affect other people.

Chrissy died and Eddie became a “serial killer.” Eddie died and … Kas became the serial killer.

“I don’t,” you start but quickly take in a shaky breath. You pinch your brows together, trying so hard to see any future with him beyond this but everything comes up blank.

“I killed because I didn’t know any better,” Kas whispers. His gaze stuck on his hands as they rested between his legs. “I was taught to torture, told that every person in Hawkins would rather see me dead than alive.”

He abruptly stands, practically jumping off the couch. “I had doubts. I - I tested it, you know?” He begins his pacing, desperately trying to stop his heart from exploding his chest with each beat.

“With Kristie and Dick, I saw them. They were under struggling to get out of town hall. I helped them get out,” he slows his movements. “They were so happy to see me. And that made me happy, a-and I thought - ‘yes, he was wrong!’ But they were just happy until I got them out,” he says softly.

“They ran from me, called me an ‘asshole’ and a ‘killer,’” Kas mutters as he stands still before you. “I showed them they were right.”

A wave crashes over you. Weak electricity shoots through your body, tingles that make you feel light headed. Your face falls into your hands as you ponder the thought.

“But then I met you, darlin’,” he says as he crashes onto his knees before you. His big, warm hands pull your palms from your cheeks. “You showed me that there was another way. And - and I don’t want to go back to that.”

Kas takes a sharp breath before clearing his throat. His quivering voice continues, “I still hear their screams.” You slowly raise your eyes to his. His face contorted and solemn as he struggles to hold back heaving sobs.

“I wish you were there,” he drops his head onto your lap. The tears curl around your face. You cannot help the gentle hand that brushes through his hair. “I wish I died in your arms,” he cries. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be in fucking Valhalla or some shit, but I wouldn’t be back here as this monster!”

He sobs into your bare thighs. Your chin quivers as you try to be strong but fail every other second. You feel empty. No worry or remorse toward him or yourself. Just a body floating slowly into the ocean’s depth.

After some time, you whisper coldly, “You are not a monster.” He raises his swollen eyes to you, the innocent chocolate button eyes bow beneath all this façade. “A monster wouldn’t have regrets. Wouldn’t be crying with the person he tried to kill.”

After one last swoop of his soft curly hair, your hand rests at his cheek. Kas leans in as he always does. Those innocent eyes flick up to your hardened gaze. “You are not a monster. Not anymore.” He takes in a shaky inhale through his nose.

“You are going to work hard, harder than you ever have, to make up for what you did.” You gently place your fingers to the side of his chin, squeezing as you guide him to your eyes. Ensuring you are both locked in before finishing your thought.

“But you will never make up for those eleven lives. You will carry them in your heart until you die. And that does not mean you stop fighting to make it right. Do you hear me, Kas?”

His lashes flutter as he unsuccessfully attempts to hold back his tears. He could see the strength within you. The power you hold that has barely scratched the surface. He couldn’t be more in love with you despite the horror of the words that fell from your supple lips.

Kas knows, in this moment, that he will happily die for you a million times. He is crazy about you, completely unhinged and dedicated to your smile. He may never make up for what he’s done, but he will put all his power into trying until the day he dies - not just for you, but him as well. It’s not easy living with a guilty conscience, maybe this will make it a bit lighter.

Regardless his determination is set, your broken heart is more than enough to fuel his intentions.

“I hear you, darlin’,” Kas utters. His hands delicately reach for yours, intertwining your fingers as they should have been from the very start. “I promise you I will try my absolute hardest to make up for what I’ve done.” He pulls your interlocked hands to his lips. A sweet peck with eyes fixed onto you. “I promise you I will work my damned best to be the man you deserve.”

His words pull you right out of your spell. Those worried wrinkled lines between your brow completely smooth out. Eyes fall straight down to your hands. A promise you would never expect from Kas, and one you could count on from Eddie. But one and two are not the same, and fear still encapsulates you.

You want to trust him. To know that he’s that beautiful man who held you in the shower earlier that day. The man who carried you away from danger. The man who saved you from the dangerous, psychotic being he is scared of most in this world.

But he is also the man who took Vickie and all those people from their families. The man who left you in a ocean of your own tears, naked and afraid in that fucked up version of Hawkins. The man who stalked you, hunted you. The man who almost drank you dry to please his own murderer.

“Please don’t break it.” The words fall from your lips involuntarily. You aren’t even sure if “it” is referring to his promise, or your heart. “Please,” you finally raise your eyes to him.

Dustin opens the door, walking into a quiet room. He closes it behind him, locking the deadbolt before landing his back against the wood. It pulls both your attentions, causing Kas to stand and let go of your hand. Your body aches for him, wishing the boy stayed outside just a little bit longer.

“I lied,” he starts. His hands crash at his hips, letting go of a huge breath of relief. “He said something about you when he was …”

It was your turn to release a breath of relief. You are confident, fully confident in the love that you and Eddie shared. Doubt wracked your brain when Dustin told you that he didn’t say anything about you in his last words. For whatever reason, the boy held the information from you. The only way you would get it is if you wait, painfully and patiently. “What did he say?”

Dustin takes a quick look at Kas before returning to you. “He wanted to marry you, after graduation.” You smile with a trembling lip, both taken aback and not surprised at all. The thought of you across from Eddie in a cheesy tux at city hall. It may not be Chicago, or Paris, but being Mrs. Eddie Munson would be an absolute dream that you would choose over the world.

He laughs as he finishes his thought. “I didn’t know who he was talking about before, but, yeah, it’s pretty clear he was talking about you.” The tears hit him again, a tickle at the back of his throat. He tenses his face to hold it all in. “He nicknamed you Lolth, or Lolly,” another breathy chuckle drops. “Pretty badass D&D character, honestly pretty comparable to Kas.”

Your heart warms in a way that turns your body into cotton candy. A sensation you haven’t felt since you last laid your eyes on Eddie. It is almost like he is here. You place your hand upon your chest as you sink into the feeling. “Thank you,” you say with a feverish nod.

Kas watches the woman he loves turn into a rare aurora of orange twinged happiness. He is thankful for the boy, grateful for his honesty. He seeks his eyes to mouth “thank you” himself.

Dustin nods, but quickly looks away as he is too worried to hold the gaze. He brushes a hand through his hair while uttering, “I don’t know what I’m going to tell the others.” Your ears perk up, causing you to jump up and rush towards him. Your hands firmly grabbing onto his. He pulls away, but hones in on your intensity.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Your gaze locked on his hazel brown. Your body becomes a mixture of hot white and cold. You just got him back. No one will take you away from him. No one will hurt him. No. No. No! “They don’t need to know.”

Dustin steps back from you with disgust. His hands are harsh as they rip from yours. It is enough to make Kas take a step forward and let out a thick, heated breath. “They need to know,” he starts pointing to Kas. “He is the last person to see Vecna alive. We need to know everything so we can put that asshole into the ground.”

You turn back to Kas, a slow glance over your left shoulder. His attention is pulled upon seeing your movement. Your brows raise at their tips, trying to discern what he is thinking. A slow smile gradually pulls across his lips. An encouraging nod shoots your way.

The relief filling your chest finally allows you to take a deep breath. You extend your arm backwards with a hopeful expression. He happily reaches for your hand, resting his warm palm against you.

Kas stands beside you, in front of Dustin. In this moment, you realize that he and you are forever. It may not be perfect, it may not be Eddie, but you are in it - for the long haul. Protecting each other against any potential harm. His fight is your fight, just as it should have been with Eddie. There’s no way you’re backing down.

You shake out your hair, taking in a slow breath for confidence and neutrality. “Who are ‘we?’” you ask. One simple question to determine the safety of the journey forward. Dustin looks to Kas, seeking the answer within him. How did this boy not get it yet? He shakes his head. He doesn’t know every thing.

Dustin turns to you, clenching his jaw. “Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Lucas, Erica, Mike, El, and Will.” The names float in the air, almost each one recognizable to you. These are the people you see in the hallways. The people in the cafeteria. The people who run the school newspaper. The people in the band. The popular kids. God, how the hell are they all mixed up in this? The only name missing being …

“Max,” you call out. “You said Max knew what was going on. What - Why isn’t she going to be there?” You rake his face, desperate for an answer, only to see him grow solemn. Kas knew that Henderson’s face undoubtedly meant bad news. He squeezes your hand, letting you know that he is here for you.

The silence feels unbearable. Your skin is on fire and about to implode. “J-Just tell me,” you start before taking a deep inhale. “Is she dead?”

“No,” Dustin states. Your heart skips a beat as you gasp in happiness. Max is far too young, far too young to be gone�� “But she’s hurt and it’s bad.”

Your body stills as your breath escapes you once again. “What do you mean?” you utter quickly. Another squeeze to your hand.

“She’s in the hospital,” the boy utters under his breath.

You push past him, reaching for the door knob. You don’t even know where you’re going but you are going.

Kas is the one who’s calm hand rests on your forearm, causing you to pause. He models a breath with you before flicking his eyes to Henderson. “Tell the party we’re meeting at Harrington’s at 8. You pick us up at 6 and bring us to Max, then to the party,” he states without a second of hesitancy. Your eyes light up before turning to see Dustin’s reaction.

“Done,” the boy promises.

“Dustin!”

All three of you drop, closer to the ground. The voice comes from outside. You can hear heavy boots onto the steps of the porch before crashing his knuckles against the wood. “Dustin, your mom called.” He groans before knocking again. “Common, I know you’re in there - I can see the light on.”

Steve Harrintgon’s timbre is incredibly clear. He is here, a simple door away to finding out the truth.

Your heart races faster than it ever has, faster than when you thought you were going to die. You panic, thinking what would happen if Kas and Steve come face to face in such an abrupt manner.

When you whip your head to Kas, his face is calm and unbothered. It gives you strength - a chance to take a breath.

“Henderson, please. It’s already midnight and Robin’s in the car. If you don’t come out soon, she’s gonna start holding down on the horn,” Steve says with an exhausted tone. A huge yawn follows his words.

Dustin shoots his eyes towards Kas. He gestures for you both to move, to make your way to the kitchen. Kas nods, and guides you over with your intertwined hands.

“Just wait a damn second, Harrington,” Dustin spits out. “I’m getting my shit.” Kas leads you behind the fridge, squeezing your hand in repetitive pulses until you both are safely hidden.

Dustin swings the door open and steps outside, pushing his way through Steve’s burgundy sweater. “Dude, you gotta stop coming here,” he scolds as the boy closes the door behind him. “How did you even get in?” The voices trail off, but you remain silent, still, and pressed against the fridge.

Upon hearing Steve’s car pull away, you let out a breath of relief. You instinctually let go of Kas’ hand, stretching your arms and cracking your knuckles to release the tensing pressure. “That was close,” you whisper under your breath.

Kas slowly wraps his arms around your waist, digging your hips against his. “It was,” he says as his eyes rake over your features. One hand releases to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. It is almost as though he is lovingly adoring everything but your eyes, leaving them for last.

“Should we finally get that rest now?” he suggests with a smirk.

Your eyes fall on him as though this was your first time ever truly seeing him. The way his lips part when he looks at you. Those eyes that stop your heart every time they land on you. The way his curled locks land right on his collar bones. His alabaster skin, soft and sensual. The spider tattoo on his peck that you love so much.

Before you knew it, your hand was trailing across his torso. Peck to peck, before sliding down his sternum and onto his belly. Your eyes were locked, as though they were in a trance, completely intoxicated by his incredible body. Almost as though an alarm went off, your head perks and returns back to hold his gaze. “I would like that.”

Kas smiles as he leads you back into the living room, back up the stairs, and back into the room that will forever, now, be deemed as yours. He lands back onto the mattress, floating upon its waves, as he guides you down beside him.

Your head rests where it belongs, on your favorite spider tattoo and just above his heart. His arm wraps around the small of your back. A hand lightly tracing dancing fingers against your upper arm as you pull closer into his chest.

A sleep you have been waiting for. A sleep you deserve - you both deserve.

“Good night, Kas,” you whisper against his skin. “Good night, darlin’,” he whispers back.

“I love you.”

note: people really need to stop bothering lolly and kas during their vacation stay at reefer rick's! also, i am physically cringing at the thought of kas meeting the party. I oh so very scared and idk what's gonna happen. get ready y'all.

season two finale • coming soon •

comment or reblog to join the taglist! [join our kas cult]

taglist: @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @ohmeg, @username7430, @seatnights, @bit-of-a-timelord, @nefelibata-dreams (🥰), & @squigglebottom (welcome😘)

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

83 notes · View notes