#like ‘I will rip out my beating heart and take a knife to it until it looks like one of those onion flower things and present it to you—‘

[lovelesslittleloser]

GUYS HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE POSITIVE WITHOUT BEING ANNOYING AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I KNOW I SHOULD COMMENT ON STUFF I LIKE TO SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGE THE CREATORS BUT WORDS ARE HARD AND I HAVE SO MANY OF THEM BUT SO LITTLE TO ACTUALLY SAY AND ALSO MOST OF THEM ARE WEIRD LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY ‘I LOVE YOU AND WOULD GENUINELY DIE TO ACHIEVE ANOTHER CREATION FOR ME TO POTENTIALLY CONSUME IN THE AFTERLIFE IF I SOMEHOW MANAGE TO GET INTO HEAVEN, BECAUSE YOUR CREATION HAS CERTAINLY EARNED ITS WAY INTO THE PEARLY GATES, ALSO DO YOU WANT MY SOUL BECAUSE I DON’T NEED IT ANYMORE AND I THINK YOU DESERVE IT FOR PRODUCING SOMETHING OF THIS LEVEL OF ABSOLUTE PERFECTION’ LIKE YEAH I COULD SAY THAT BUT IM TRYING TO COME OFF AS SANE ENOUGH THAT THEY AREN’T GROSSED OUT OR SOMETHING????????

[lucidfairies]

LET'S PLAY

pairing: ghostface!Abby x reader x ghostface!Ellie

synopsis: you've always been afraid of scary movies, but when abby recreates one of her favorites with some help from her best friend... lets just say you face your fears.

warnings: fear kink (?), threesome, pussy eating, strap usage, gendered pet names, double penetration + anal [r! receiving], face riding [e! + r! receiving], scissoring [a + e], very brief gendered talk ("but my sweet girl can take it, can't she?"), unrealistic squirting

wc: 2k

a/n: hi guys! to be fully transparent with you guys, I've been extremely busy over the last couple of weeks and have no chance to write. on top of that I'm extremely under the weather right now, so this is the only Halloween shot I have written. 😭😭 I'm really sorry that it worked out this way, maybe I can finish and post the others later on!

it was halloween. finally halloween. and the conditions were perfect. the dark night sky was filled with grey clouds that stuck out from the moonlight, fog had been gathering all day, so that once trick or treating started for the little kids and partying started for the older kids, it was just right. you had different plans on your mind, though. tonight it would be just you and Abby, with movies, popcorn, and definitely some costumes.

in all honesty, halloween scared you in the slightest. the movies that Abby often wanted to watch were gruesome, and you wound up with your hands over your eyes, merely listening to the shrieks and stabbings. abby loved it, though, so you found it in your heart to get over it.

that fear, however, resurrected itself when the clock passed eleven, knowing she was supposed to be home at nine-thirty. you had texted her a number of times at this point, even called her, with no response. it was more than strange; in all the years you and abby had been together, she had never, ever missed a halloween.

at a certain point you sighed and got off the couch, accepting that she apparently just wasn't coming home. you went down to your room, changing and laying down to sleep. you tossed and turned, not used to a bed without her body in it. after a while, you laid on your back with a huff, grabbing your phone to text her again.

before you could press send, you heard an aggressive jingle of the lock on the front door. it didn't stop, and you were slammed with the feeling that someone was trying to to get in. someone was trying to to get in. a bat hid behind your door, and you ran over to grab it before leaving your bedroom. you looked over your shoulder, into every room, but you didn't see anything. the kitchen was dark once you walked into it, and as you went to flick the lights on, you felt a strong hand on your hip that pulled you back, covering your mouth with their other hand.

the bat was ripped from your hands by a second person, and you screamed, but the hand covering your mouth was gloved and masked the sound. you could feel the captors heart beating and their chest rise and fall.

“sorry I'm late,”

it was abby. abby who followed you through your house and abby whose hand was over your mouth. the lights flicked on and you were faced with a different person, dressed in a ghost face mask and it's matching rags. you pushed out of abby's grip and turned to face her, realizing that she also had a mask on.

“what the fuck abby?” you quietly shrieked. “what was that? you scared me.” the light caught the knife in her hand, and suddenly a pit developed in your stomach. it was fear, flat, undoubtable, fear. “why do you have a knife?” she walked towards you slowly until your back was against the wall.

“don't worry baby, we're just gonna play,” her large body encased you. “you remember ellie, don't you sweet girl?” you nodded slowly, tears welling up in your tear ducts. “my poor baby, don't cry, we're gonna be real nice to you.” when she said that, you finally came to the realization as to what was happening. this is why abby loves the scary movies. she likes the control; the fear. you relaxed. “do you trust me, pretty girl?” you looked at her through the mask and nodded slowly. “do you trust me to not hurt you?” you nodded again.

“let's play then, baby.”

that's how you ended up here, on your back, with ellie on your face and abby between your legs. ellie had a hand in your hair, forcing you to look up at her while you ate her out. she was grinding down on your tongue, chanting your name as she chest rose and fell quickly. she had definitely already come, but she was using you to get off.

abby, however, had a strap buried deep in your cunt. you two hadn't used a strap before, you didn't even know where she got it, all you knew and could think about was how much she was filling you. the mask was still covering her face, but you almost got off to it. she had your legs pushed up to your chest, drilling her hips into your ass over and over, going even after your orgasm had lit up your body.

finally she let up, but you knew you weren’t even close to done. ellie got off your face and they both looked at each other, as if they were coming to a conclusion by just looking at each other, then they both looked over at you. abby discarded her mask and tossed it into the pile of clothes, loosening the harness from her hips and throwing it along with everything else. “get up,” ellie said, replacing you as you stood up. “sit on my face, sweets. face abby like the pretty thing you are.” the position was weird, but somehow it worked. you were backwards on ellie’s face, but her skilled tongue still managed to find everything you needed just right.

abby lifted ellie’s leg up, shifting herself between her lifted leg and her dripping center, rolling her hips down until they were both moaning. with the hand that wasn’t keeping ellie’s leg steady, abby grabbed you by the throat and brought your lips to hers, moaning into your mouth as your tongues met. ellie was so good at eating pussy, you almost didn’t want to pick between her and abby. maybe tonight meant that you could have both of them whenever you wanted.

ellie fucked you with her tongue while her thumb found your clit, spreading your wetness and her saliva over it and rubbing in rhythmic, slow circles. you were all but pushing all your weight onto abby, who was still riding ellie’s pussy. now, though, her head was back, neck exposed. you regained your headspace slightly, just enough to run your lips along her neck and suck. your lips traveled to her tits, marking her in a way you hadn’t before.

you stopped as soon as you felt your orgasm building quickly, instead opting for your previous option of grabbing her for support. it seemed as if you both were in the same boat, because her face scrunched up in focus, like it did every time she came. your head was on her shoulder as you came, whimpering at just how good it felt. ellie didn’t let a drop miss her tongue.

abby stood up, and you zoned in on how both of their pussies were covered in each other’s cum. your pupils were wide, your mouth was basically hanging open with drool. abby looked at you and chuckled. “wanna clean me up, sweetheart?” you got up from the bed and kneeled in front of her, assuming that’s what she wanted you to do, and waited for her to spread her legs. she leaned against the wall and propped her leg up on your shoulder, letting you lap at her until everything was gone. it tasted so good, so much like abby with a hint of ellie. it was the perfect blend.

though you wanted to lick up ellie too, she had already cleaned off with a bed sheet. “I have one more thing to try, if you’re up for it, baby.” you nodded profusely, and both girls looked at each other with a smirk. “get on the edge of the bed in doggy.” you did as told, putting your knees on the edge of the bed and arching your back so that your face was in the comforter. “good girl,” abby cooed, reaching down to pick up her harness and clip it on again. ellie also pulled one out from the jumble of clothes, and you wondered where hers was going to go. in the bedside drawer, abby pulled out a small bottle of lube, which she must have snuck in at some point earlier in the day to prepare.

earlier, when all of this started, you didn’t need lube, so you couldn’t understand what that was for. until both girls walked behind you. you felt the tip of one of their straps rubbing against your ass and you leaped forward, ill prepared. “this is gonna be a big stretch, baby, but my sweet girl can take it, can’t she?” you hummed at abby’s words, sucking in a harsh breath as her strap entered a new place. it was certainly different, but it felt so good. it was just the stretch you wanted, and it got even better when you felt ellie running the tip of her strap up and down your folds.

when ellie pushed her strap into you along with abby’s, the earth froze. “fuck, babe, look at your slut,” from what you could see, they were both admiring the way your stretched for them. You weren’t going to deny that it hurt a little, but with the way they were looking at you and the way ellie kept hitting exactly where you needed to plus the stretch of both of them, it made up for the slight discomfort.

once they gained a rhythm, you had them railing you at the same time, strokes hard and fast, with ellie’s large, skinny hands wrapped around your waist to keep you up. your hands grasped the bedsheets tightly, listening to your body as you neared closer and closer to finishing. there was another feeling building, one you hadn’t felt before, but you made an effort to ignore it. The closer you got, the noisier you became, moaning and grunting with every thrust until you were twitching on the edge of release.

the weird feeling that you were ignoring came back hard and fast, sitting somewhere strange in your bladder. it was like the urge to pee, but with some form of pleasure to it. they pulled it out of you with their harshness, making you squirt hard as you finished. you rolled your hips back at how strong your orgasm was, tears running down your face and creating a pool on the comforter.

you felt strangely empty as they both pulled out, unclipping both of their harnesses yet again and tossing them. “you did such a good job angel. let’s get cleaned up.” you all showered together, then abby surprised you with matching pajamas. ellie was packing up her stuff and you frowned.

“stay,” you said, and she looked up at you and smiled. “we can watch a movie. you can leave in the morning. don’t drive home in the dark.” she sat her backpack down and climbed into bed with the both of you. abby rolled over to grab the remote and turned on scream, just for the irony.

taglist: @inukastan1 @elliecoochieeater @pepperflakess @hastasupern0va @jazzys19 @purring4elliewilliams @decaffeinatedclodbagelweasel @lonelyfooryouonly @heyimrye (if your not tagged it said your account did not exist, I apologize)

[batsandbirdbrains]

I want an apprentice au but I want a slightly different way for Dick to get away from Slade

The one where Renegade calls for Superman

This can be in any universe really, doesn’t necessarily have to be teen titans or yj. But I just can’t get the idea out of my head where for whatever reason, Dick has been stuck as Deathstroke’s Apprentice for months now. He’s desperate and in pain and he has no idea how to get out of this.

After so many months though, he does have some leeway with Slade. When they’re away on a job, if they’re ahead of schedule, Slade will sometimes let him town the city on his own. He has to keep his ear piece in, of course, just in case Slade calls.

So one night, after a job well done, Slade lets Dick wander the rooftops before getting back to the hotel. Dick says he wants to clear his head, enjoy the fresh air. He’ll be back in a little while, he promises. Slade just claps him on the shoulder and tells him to be back by sunrise.

And so Renegade jumps across a few rooftops, sits down where no one below can see him, and stares at the stars.

And he feels like the world is imploding around him. It’s like there’s pressure everywhere, everything hurts, everything is pulsing, his heart is beating erratically, his head is pounding. His mouth goes dry and he lets out a rattle of a breath.

“Superman,” he gasps, fingers grasping at the front of his uniform. “Superman, please. Please help me. Superman, please.”

He keeps repeating it, over and over again. This is the only time he’ll try it. He has approximately four hours before sunrise. If it doesn’t work before he has to get back to the hotel, Dick will officially give up. This is his last hope. No one else has come to save him, no one will come to save him. He knows Bruce kicked him out what feels like forever ago, but Dick is sixteen, and he’s so so terrified of everything these days. He thought Batman would realize he was the boy behind the Renegade mask. He thought Batman would come save him.

Instead, Slade had laughed when the newspaper reported a new Robin following after Batman.

Dick didn’t speak for a week until Slade got fed up enough and beat the depression out of him.

“Kal-El, please come save me,” Dick whispers, his voice cracking, eyes stinging with tears. “Uncle Clark, please. You’re my last hope. You have to help me. No one else is going to help me. Uncle Clark, I’m begging.”

He just keeps whispering to Superman, to Kal-El, to Uncle Clark.

It’s twenty-seven minutes until sunrise, and Dick wants to give up. His mouth is dry. His throat is scratchy. He’s been calling for Clark for hours now. He’s not coming. Dick should have known he wouldn’t come.

He was going to be stuck with Deathstroke for the rest of his miserable life.

The thought fills him with dread, but then an overwhelming calm settles over him. It feels forced. It’s not real. But he peers over the edge of the rooftop he’s on and stares at the ground below. Flying Graysons tend to fall, don’t they? Maybe it’s his destiny after all. It’s a tempting thought.

And just after he’s stood up and stepped to the very edge of the rooftop, he’s pushed back, held tightly in strong arms, one arm wrapped around his back while the other is holding a hand to cradle the back of his head.

“Dick,” Clark’s voice is breathless. “Oh my God, Dick, I didn’t think I’d find you.”

And Dick breaks. He gasps and cries and clings to Clark so tightly his gloves start to creak.

“Leave, we have to leave,” he eventually tells Clark. “Please, before he comes back!”

Clark doesn’t even question him, just picks Dick up and flies him to Metropolis, depositing Dick on his couch and then fussing over him.

“Tracker, in my arm,” Dick says through quick gasps. “You have to take it out.”

He rips his uniform off in pieces, then holds his right arm out to Clark. Clark looks at his arm for a moment, turning it over a couple times, then uses a knife Dick hands him to cut out the tracker. He leaves through the window and is back a moment later, having dropped the tracker in the middle of nowhere.

Clark helps him out of the uniform, then gets rid of that too. He helps Dick clean up, gets him a spare set of clothes, and then sits with him in the couch while a Disney movie plays on TV at the lowest volume. Clark is patient, he doesn’t press him too much. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t shout, doesn’t even look angry. He just lets Dick explain everything in his own time.

And Clark learns a lot from Dick. No one in the JL knew Bruce had kicked Dick out. No one knew Dick was kidnapped by Deathstroke. No one knew Dick was the boy behind the Renegade mask. No one knew he needed help.

Clark feels like a total failure as he watches the boy he thinks of as his nephew break down on his couch, but he continues listening, continues comforting Dick.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” Dick eventually cries, face hidden in Clark’s shoulder.

“I will always come anytime you call me. Anytime.” Clark doesn’t make Dick move, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t complain about the tears soaking into his shirt. He just stays with him, for as long as Dick wants him there. “And you’ll always have a home with me. Always, Dick.”

When the sun rises, Clark is still holding Dick tight, unwilling to let go. And he can hear how fast Dick’s heart is beating, he can tell how frightened he still is. So he starts telling Dick stories from Krypton, trying to calm him down.

Dick latches onto one story in particular. A month later, Nightwing takes flight in Blüdhaven for the first time.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 9

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

It felt like forever. He knew it wasn't. It must have been minutes until the car door was ripped open and Charles slipped in right next to him.

It wasn’t until the doors were slammed shut behind Charles that Max dared to look at the Monégasque.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Charles was still in his racing suit just as him, the suit itself streaked with sweat.

The moment the car door closed, the car started riving.

"Merde," Charles cursed. Max could only agree. "I am sorry, that it took this long."

Max gave a sharp, jerky shake of his head. "You don’t have to apologize," he somehow managed to get the words out. "I’m just..." he trailed off, a shaky exhale escaping him. "How could you make it here so fast?" he asked, casting a quick glance in his friend’s direction.

Charles snorted. "Your press officer had a shouting match with Ferrari's,“ he said simply.

If Max wasn’t so focused on not completely losing it, he might’ve been amused with the mental image. But at the moment, he could only shake his head.

Next to him, Charles let out a sigh. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"No. You?" he gave back.

"I don't have a bad feeling," Charles said quietly. “Not worse than it has been for days at least.”

Twin Telepathy was apparently a thing as far as Charles and Colette were concerned. 

Quite frankly, till this day, it still weirded Max out. They just seemed to know when the other one wasn't feeling well. 95% of the time, they got sick at the same time. They communicated more easily with each other than with anyone else, and regardless of what game they played...they needed to be put on opposite teams, because otherwise nobody had a chance against them.

Max was well aware of Colette and Charles' strange connection. Even if he didn’t fully understand it. They both had some sort of sixth sense when it came to the other one, and it sometimes felt like they were talking in secret code.

"What’s it telling you right now?" he asked, his voice barely above a rough whisper.

Charles turned to him fully at that, and Max saw the way his eyes swept over him, taking in every aspect of his appearance.

Max could only imagine what Charles was seeing. He felt like a walking wreck, and there was no doubt his appearance was mirroring that.

"Colette is in pain," Charles finally said, his voice strangely quiet. "She’s scared."

That answer felt like somebody shoved a knife into Max’s stomach. He inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat. “Of course, she is,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Charles seemed to sense what he was thinking, even without being telepathically connected through whatever the hell Colette and him had going on. The Monégasque reached out and took a firmer hold of his hand, the grip almost crushing.

"Don’t," Charles said firmly, his voice leaving no room for arguments. "Don’t go there. We’re gonna get to her as fast as we can."

There was a brief moment of silence, as Max tried to collect himself. He focused all his attention on the pressure of Charles' hand on his, and somehow, it actually helped.

"I feel so goddamn useless," he finally admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to be with her."

"You want to try calling her before we are in the air?" Charles suggested.

That was not a bad idea, not at all. Max let out a low and slightly shaky exhale, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I…” he had to stop and clear his throat. “Yeah, I’ll try to call her.”

His hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone out of the backpack that somebody had handed off to him, already packed. Regardless of all the drama that had gone on in the RedBull garage during the year… if it really mattered, the people in there pulled off minor miracles.

Within minutes, his entire day - hell, his entire week - had been packed for him, with all the essentials of clothes and everything else he would need.

He had almost forgotten about the phone in his shaking hands, but now he just stared at the screen for a moment. His fingers were trembling so badly that just unlocking the phone was a challenge in itself.

Jimmy and Sassy were on his lockscreen...a picture that Colette had once sent him when he had been away for one of his races...the two of them laying on top of her on their couch...

Every other time Max saw the photo, it made his heart do a little funny jump. Now though, it made his chest ache. It felt like a sharp stabbing pain, and for a moment, he just sat there and stared at the picture.

Then he called her.

It rang. And it rang, and it rang again. With each passing second, that horrible knot in his stomach tightened a little more. With every ring of the bell, it got harder to breathe.

Finally, to Max’s immense and enormous relief, the line connected.

"Hey, Maxie. I put you on speaker," Victoria's voice came over the phone, sounding surprisingly calm.

A shiver of something resembling dread ran through Max, at the sound of Victoria’s voice. But he pushed past the feeling.

His thoughts were once again running wild - was it a bad sign that Colette wasn’t the one speaking to him? Or was he just overreacting..?

“Hey,” he forced the word out past the lump in his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pleading for Colette's voice. Was it selfish that he just wanted to hear her tell him that everything was going to be okay?

"Better now," Colette's voice came, sounding slightly hoarse.

The words were like a shot of adrenaline, and for a moment, Max actually felt a little lightheaded. “Liefje.” He closed his eyes, just hearing her voice sending another wave of relief through him. “Are you okay? How is Bébé?”

"Bébé has decided that they would rather be born today, so I would suggest you hurry up," Victoria said drily.

"Seems like the kid already inherited Max's need for speed," Charles quipped. "How are you doing, Coco?"

"I'm good," Colette's voice replied, and Max could only imagine the eye-roll that was currently happening. He knew his girlfriend, and he had no doubt that she had been glaring at Victoria ever since the phone was put on speaker.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning much softer. "You're coming, right?"

"Coming," he assured her, his heart aching. "We're coming, I promise."

"I know. I’m not worried." She sounded like she meant it, but Max could easily imagine the anxiety in her eyes.

"You'd better not worry," Charles said, and then added, "I’m keeping him from doing anything dumb."

Max shot Charles a dirty look at that, bt he swallowed down the annoyed protest and focused back on Colette instead. “Just…hold on a little longer, okay?”

"It's not like I can go anywhere else," Colette replied, her voice slightly amused. "I’ll keep our little speed demon in there a little lo...." She broke off and let out a quiet hiss of pain, her voice once again cut off by what Max suspected to be a particularly painful contraction.

“Colette,” he said sharply, all kinds of emotions washing over him, one by one. “Liefje, just…just breathe through it, okay?”

There was a second of panting, then, he heard her take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she finally said. “Just…hurts like hell.”

He swallowed and clenched his free hand tightly into a fist, fighting against the urge to just jump out of the car and start running towards the airport.

Colette being in pain was not something he could deal with.

He heard her take a few more deep breaths, and he just sat there, waiting and listening and feeling absolutely useless.

"How long until you get here?" she asked after a moment, her voice breathless. He could see her in his mind, his sweet girl, sitting on the bed and clutching her belly as another contraction hit her.

"We're not even at the airport yet," he told her, and damn it, why were his eyes suddenly burning. "We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just...hold on a little longer."

"What your dad said..." Colette said with a shaky voice.

"I know," he said simply, the grief raw in his voice. Neither of them were ever really going to get over the two babies they had lost. They had learnt to live with the pain, they had dealt with the heartbreak an grief...but it was always going to be scar for them.

"Max, if something…" she began, her voice a little wobbly. He could tell that she was crying, by the way her breathing got a little more hitched and ragged.

But she suddenly cut off and gasped, letting out an even breath. Another contraction..."Hey, nothing is gonna happen," he quickly said, trying to soothe her. "Nothing. I'll be there soon. I'll be there before you know, and our child will meet their parents. We will be fine, we will get through this. You, and me. Together."

"If something happens," Colette continues. "If..."

"No," he cut her off, the word coming out as a growl. "Nothing is gonna happen. You will not talk that way. You’re going to deliver a gorgeous and healthy baby, and I won’t hear anything else."

"Max..." she protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said firmly, putting as much steel in his voice as he could. "You will be fine. Our baby will be fine, and I will be there soon and I will hold your hand and you can threaten to geld me and all of it will be okay. Just breathe.” 

He could hear the sound of her breathing, deep and even. She was trying to steady it, and Max gripped his phone tighter. He didn’t know if he was trying to hold himself together, or if he was trying to hold on to the sound of her voice.

The seconds ticked by, and then another contraction hit, and he heard her gasp out another ragged breath. Max felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. The idea of her in pain was like an invisible knife twisting a little deeper in his gut, each time.

"We need to go," Charles said suddenly. "We need to get into the plane." The car slowed down at that moment. "Coco, listen to me. I am going to be absolutely fucking furious with you if something happens to you," Charles told her fiercely. 

"Trust me," Colette’s voice said, sounding slightly tired. "I am very, very motivated to stay alive."

That was good. That was a good sign. If she was still being sarcastic and even a little bit cheeky…it was good.

"Just hold on," he told her again, the familiar feeling of helplessness seeping into his bones. "Just keep hanging on, for me. I love you."

“I love you too,” the words were as immediate and as fast as the sunrise each morning. "Hurry up, dammit."

"I’m trying," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I’m trying. We’re at the airport now. We’ll get there as fast as we can-" he had to stop, when he heard her let out another pained gasping sound, as another contraction clearly hit her hard.

“Goddamn,” he exclaimed, all of his muscles tense with the urge to do something. He wanted to help her, he wanted to be there to comfort her…but more than anything,  he was terrified of losing her. "Liefje, just keep breathing, okay? Breathe and stay calm."

"I’m trying to," her voice was breathless, and he knew that she was probably trying hard to fight the urge to cry out. Oh God, he hated that. He hated seeing her in pain, he loathed feeling this utterly useless.

"Go. Love you," she told him.

"I love you," he told her emphatically, wanting to say something more, but then Charles impatiently gestured at him to hurry up and get out of the car. "I...I’ll see you soon, okay? Just hang on, okay?"

"Yeah," he could tell that she was trying even harder to control her voice, trying to put on a calm and steady front for his benefit. "Just..." she cut off and let out a gasp, another contraction evidently hitting her hard. "...just hurry up before this baby decides to make their way out before you arrive, okay?"

"I will," he promised through gritted teeth. "I will, goddammit, I will, just…hang on."

He heard Colette’s pained panting, and each of her breaths was like a stab in the gut.He hated having to hang up on her

Everything in him rebelled at that. How could he, how could he possibly abandon her like that, how could he let her take on this pain and fear all by herself, without him there to hold her hand...but goddamnit, he had no choice.

He took a shuddering breath and pushed past the urge to scream, to slam his fist into something, anything. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from the desperate need to get to her, to overwhelming panic, to anger at the universe for forcing them apart and for putting her through this pain.

Into the plane they went…it was probably the shortest amount of time between entering a plane and taking off Max had ever experienced. 

Before too long they were up in the air, flying towards Nice.

The minutes ticked by, each one passing by like a century. Max would sit in restless agitation at his seat, his mind racing back and forth. Every thought and memory came back to Colette. He just wanted to be at her side, he just wanted everything to be okay…

And instead he would be stuck on this plane for 6 hours.

He would be stuck on this goddamn plane for six hours. Six hours, each one of them filled with the knowledge that the love of his life was giving birth to their child, and he was not there to support her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything was okay.

It was driving him absolutely insane. He couldn’t take it, he just wanted to be there, with her. He could vividly picture her, sitting in the hospital bed and gripping the rails, her face screwed up in pain as she fought through another contraction. And he was not there to comfort her.

"Maman is with her. Your sister is with her. Lorenzo and Arthur too." Charles said at that moment. “We aren't there but everybody else is."

"How can you be this calm?" Max asked him, dragging a hand through sweat damp hair.

"Don't mistake calm for not being worried," Charles said evenly, his eyes tracking Max's restless pacing of the plane. "I am worried. For her, for you and for the little one. But freaking out isn't gonna do anyone any favours right now."

"I know,” Max said, his voice still strangled tight with stress. He just couldn't get any of the images out of his mind - her struggling and fighting her way through the pain, looking more vulnerable and pale than he had ever seen her...and he was not there.

“Besides, I shouted at Ferrari’s PR and got it out of my system, so currently, I am feeling quite calm.” Charles said darkly. “I imagine that’s going to change again when I am sure that Colette and the baby are alright.”

Max just stared at him. Charles had done what?

If there was a religion that Charles Leclerc believed in then it was Ferrari.

Charles Leclerc was their golden boy. Their Il Predestinato. There was no good-natured fobbing to be had about Ferrari regardless of what issues there had been had through the years, and there had been a lot.

Charles worshipped Ferrari like a malevolent goddess. He didn’t want to hear any criticism of his team and Max had given up on that a very long time ago. 

Charles and Colette both could be the most stubborn people Max had ever match. The only one who could match their stubbornness were each other. 

"You did what?" Max stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Charles was an absolute Ferrari fan and loyal to the very core…why the hell would he yell at the PR people?

"Why...? What did they do?"

"They weren't even going to tell me that something was wrong with Colette," Charles said darkly. "I knew it. I knew that something was off. But they didn't say anything. It was one of Red Bull's PR Staff that got me out of the cooldown room. Ferrari wouldn't have said anything to me. Ferrari didn't want me to leave either. They wanted to debrief, they wanted me to give interviews,"

Max had to resist the urge to swear. He had been so focused on the fact that he was not with Colette that he hadn't even processed the fact that Ferrari had actually kept her labour a secret from Charles, simply to make him stay and do his goddamn job for them.

"You know that that is not normal, right?" he asked him drily. "I am not telling you that everything is perfect at Red Bull but Christian would never fucking stand for that."

"You know I never expected it," Charles told him, his mouth a thin hard line. "We are the drivers. We are the stars. But we come second. First and foremost, we are assets to the team. What Ferrari wants, Ferrari gets. We drive, we get podiums, we hold the trophies, and we smile for the cameras. Everything else comes second. It doesn’t matter to them. To them, only the trophies matter. "

"That's what they want," Max told him, anger seeping into his voice. "But that's not how it should be. Ferrari is wrong. If something is wrong with your loved ones, they have no right to keep it from you like that. Especially not for the sake of a goddamn interview."

"I know," Charles said, his lips thin with bitterness. "But there's not much I can do about it, is there? We may be the top drivers on the grid, but we drive the car that the teams give us. There's only so much that we can do when the team has power over pretty much every aspect of our career. And believe me, I am going to pay a fucking price for doing what I did. I just don't care at all. It's Colette," he said sharply. "I love all my siblings. I do. I love Lorenzo and Arthur. I would do everything for them. But they aren't my twin. They aren't the second half of me," Charles said simply. "Ferrari be damned."

Max hadn't thought that he was ever going to hear these words out of Charles' mouth but here they were.

"What the fuck did Jos say by the way? What did Coco mean?" Charles demanded.

"He gave an interview to Sky Sports," Max said, fury still embering deep in his gut.

"Of course he did." Charles said, not sounding surprised at all. "What did he say?"

"Confirmed the relationship...and the pregnancy," Max said clenching his teeth. "And if that wasn't enough...he made a...comment about how it had taken us long enough to have a baby."

There was a sharp indrawn breath as Charles absorbed that. "...What?" Charles said after a moment, his voice strangled. "...he made that comment in public? Are - are you serious?"

"I never told him about the two...miscarriages," Max said quietly. "I couldn't deal with whatever well meant advice he was going to have...but I...We lost two babies," Max said weakly. "My father went out there and confirmed our relationship and the pregnancy without talking to either of us. He just made that decision because it's "ridiculous" that we kept it a secret for so long. An it’s making me furious. This wasn't his decision to make. This was ours."

"Yes," Charles said, his jaw clenching. "It was. Your decision. Nobody else’s. He had absolutely no right to do that. Goddamn it, I have never liked that man, but I've never had the urge to punch him as much as I do this very moment."

"You and me both," Max said. The anger he was feeling would have been burning through him like a damn inferno if he hadn't been so worried about Colette.

"This should have come from us," Max repeated quietly. "Not from anybody else."

"It still can come from you," Charles said.

Max paused, looking up at him. "Are you saying we should..." he began uncertainly.

"You want to tell the entire world that you love my sister and that she is having your baby? You have an Instagram account and a phone with an internet connection," Charles said drily. "Tell them the truth. Your truth."

Max opened his mouth and then closed it again. Charles had a point. It was obvious what the news was going to be now if people had seen Jos's interview.

But he wanted to be the one to tell the world. He wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted it to be public but on his public terms. Not his father's.

"Are you ever going to ask my sister to marry you?" Charles asked him suddenly.

The question caught him completely off guard. "...What?" He said blankly, stunned by the change of the conversation.

"You gave her a ring when you were both 18 that you both insisted was only a promise ring," Charles said drily. "Are you ever going to replace it with the real thing?"

He thought back to that ring that still sat on Colette's finger to this day. A simply gold band with a tiny heart-shaped diamond.

He had given it to her in 2016, after his very first Grand Prix win in Spain. He had gone out and bought it that very same day to be exact.

He had bought Victoira a handbag the first time he had scored his championship points...but the first time he had won...he had bought Colette that ring.

"Apparently the baby is only going to have your surname too, because you have an agreement," Charles continued. "Do I actually want to know what that agreement was?"

"We were 18. Both our father's would have probably killed us, if we came to them and told them that we were engaged," Max said with a sigh. The Leclerc's had always been supportive of their relationship but Hervè Leclerc had very much thought that both Colette and him were far too young to get married. 

Jos on the other hand...Max didn't even want to imagine that screaming fit.  "So I gave her that ring and we agreed that..."

"You agreed that..." Charles repeated slowly, silently urging him to continue.

Max let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand through his already messy hair, mussing it up even more. "We agreed that we didn't really need a piece of paper to tell us what we already knew," he said simply. "Colette and I had been together for 6 years at that point, we already knew and accepted that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. It was just a matter of when. So we decided that we didn't need a damn piece of paper to know that we were committed to each other. We already knew that, without a doubt," Max said simply. "It was a promise ring. To love and to cherish, till death us do part. One day we would do it properly, but till then...that ring was a promise."

Charles stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You have been married to my sister for 10 years?" he asked him sharply.

Max winced. Okay. Put like that, it sounded kinda bad. "We never had the actual wedding," he said sheepishly. "We both know it wasn't necessary for us, so...we kinda just...never got around to it."

"I mean, I did ask your father for her hand in marriage when it was clear that he wasn't going to be there...when we eventually did it properly...but...for us that ring was… It was more than enough," Max said quietly. "I knew damn well that I would be with her for the rest of my life. She knew it. We both knew it. And that ring was a symbol between us that sealed the deal. We both knew that it was going to be for forever and always. It was a promise. A promise to always stay by each other’s side. No matter how badly things fell apart around us. No matter how much the world wanted to tear us to apart. We were going to stay together, come hell or high water. We didn't need a paper to prove that to us or the rest of the world," Max said firmly.

Charles stared at him for a couple of long moments, processing this. Max was well aware that, from an outside perspective, it might sound weird. That they had been so young, but so utterly certain that they were going to spend their lives together.

But he and Colette had been together for years. And he had seen how strongly they had bonded over the years, seen what they had been able to deal with as a team, as one, and how they had come through every single thing that the life had thrown at them together.

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Charles finally said drily. "You didn't get engaged because as far as you two were concerned you already got married years ago."

Max winced a little bit and couldn't really refute it. If he were to be honest, he'd have admit it did sound utterly ridiculous, when Charles spelled it out like that.

But that just...that was how badly they had known right from the very beginning that this was it for them. They didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what they already knew.

"I'll ask her properly," he promised Charles. "I already got the ring. But Colette doesn't want to overshadow Lorenzo and Charlotte and I knew that she wasn't going to want to have a big party while pregnant so I figured I would just wait."

Charles was slightly taken aback by his words, before he gave a small smile. "She'll definitely say yes, you know," he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Max smiled in return. His heart ached with the thought of her. "I hope so," he said quietly, feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. "I really, really hope so."

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Nearer the End

Megatron x Reader - Transformers Prime

Halls echoing with the beating of a metallic pulse, you wander endlessly through a mist of delirious wakefulness. A heavy rumble follows your every step, and too often the sound of your breath slices the silence in the air and your ears. Kept safe in Megatron’s habsuite with only a mere window allowing you natural light, you watch the mountain of clouds, majestic as the sunset paints them golden with shadows stretching far beyond your line of sight.

The memory of rain touches your skin, and you feel the scent of salt in the air.

How ironic it is that Megatron’s touch was your only salvation, your heart soaring whenever he was near, though your mind and spirit withered away with each passing day. Proclamations of love have calmed the melancholy, but the knife whose blade is covered with ice digs ever deeper as you recall the sight of your new body. The one specially prepared for you by Megatron’s head scientist, Shockwave.

You did not like him.

He stared, unavoidably due to his lone optic, but you knew his gaze rarely left you whenever you accompanied Megatron to his laboratory aboard the Nemesis. Though he was gentle beneath Megatron’s watchful optics, you sensed the hidden excitement within Shockwave’s touch, how he could hardly wait to test whether you’d successfully be able to live as a Cybertronian or not.

You hadn’t seen them, but you’d heard the test subjects wailing and moaning in despair as their consciousness and souls had been ripped from their bodies, forced into a metallic prison only death could free them from. You’d seen the discarded remains of the first unlucky ones, those who must have suffered too greatly before Shockwave neared the perfected method of transformation.

No amount of pleading had shifted Megatron’s mind, though your fear-stricken eyes had moved something within him. Whether that was a good thing or not, you didn't know.

“You will not be awake for the procedure, my dear,” he’d said, trying to comfort you, though unknowingly forcing bile up your throat as blood, rushing through narrow veins, roared in your ears. Your heartbeat quickens, then drowns out to the sound of the ship’s ever-present rumble. “It will be painless, I promise.” Empty promises, you couldn’t believe them. “One day, you will thank me.”

And you can hear him scream, the Megatron of your dreams, who remained trapped deep within this maddened warlord, but he had no power here. He was too weak, too neglected and forgotten, though his presence trickled out with each gentle touch Megatron delivered to you, the warmth of his servos tickling your skin as they touched and squeezed in appreciation and devotion.

“You are simply not of humankind,” he said, holding you as he gazed upon the view outside, not seeing your glossy eyes. “Whether you were once of my kind, long lost and reborn as flesh and bone, I cannot say for certain, but there is more to you than I, or anyone else, can see.” Kissing your forehead, wishing to touch your lips but still unwilling to do so, he leans back to look upon your face, gently wiping away the tears that cannot stop falling. “Despair not, my love. I will ensure the universe does not claim you too soon.”

Let it take me, you think. Let it take me and turn me into endless stardust, scattered upon the sea until the world perishes and the darkness takes hold once more. Let it claim me so I may finally unite with what you once were. Let me find that which you have killed in yourself, for you are lost in madness, and I long to be free of it.

Lost within your thoughts, you fail to notice the shift in the air, how the rumbling of the ship changes, and chaos quickly ensues, forcing Megatron out of his madness, if only to have his anger replace it. Head raised, eyes blinking to take in your surroundings, you hear him excuse himself before he mass-shifts back to his formidable size, casting one last glance before he departs, barking orders beyond the closed doors once gone. Normally, you wouldn’t have cared, would have gone back to staring out the window, longing to be amongst the clouds as their kin. But the sound of screeching wheels makes you pause, and though the rumble of the ship has returned to assault your ears, you cannot tell whether you imagine it, or whether you have, or have not, heard Ratchet’s voice in the far distance. What's more, something has appeared within the clouds beyond the window, and though now darkened with night and storm, you can almost think you recognise a certain set of colours. Red and blue, familiar yet so unfamiliar, a frame bulkier than before, now with wings.

You blink, the figure vanishes as it chases something else, and you take a breath. Imaginative plays by a desperate, dying mind… or something akin to hope.

“Optimus?” you ask, voice hoarse, unbelieving.

Previous / Next Music: Eshaton – Ανάβαση (found on Bandcamp)

[tadpole-apocalypse]

I wrote a little something! Yes I’m sure the title is probably overused. It just worked for this scenario.

***

Careful, I Bite [AO3 link]

Astarion gets some blood and puts his plan in motion. A rewrite of his proposition scene to fit my narrative.

Pairing: Astarion x Morgan (female human tav)

Rating: M for sexy blood drinking

Tags: vampire bites, detailed descriptions of blood and the inherent eroticism, high elf bullshit, human tav, Gale slander, emotional manipulation, fangs, licking, astarion pov

***

They had tents now, at the campsite near the blighted village. After days of laying out in the open around the fire like a pack of wild beasts, any sort of shelter from the elements was a luxury in this filthy wilderness. All thanks to their weird little minions, of which the gith has taken complete charge of. She has put the hirelings to work; hauling supplies, tending the cookfire, patrolling for threats, as well as taking care of all the menial tasks around camp Astarion hated doing himself, like setting up tents. She even disciplined one when it performed a task that didn’t meet her exacting standards, which was just delightful to watch!

Morgan’s tent was erected on the outskirts of camp and further from the others, as they all learned her wild magic is capable of surging in her sleep when illusory clones of herself floated all around camp, exploding on whatever they bumped into. Everyone agreed it would be better if she kept her tent far from the others.

It makes it easier to discreetly slip inside, this far away from the light of the campfire. He finds her awake, sitting cross legged on her bedroll with a small wisp of light to illuminate the cramped tent. It casts harsh shadows on her blunt features that do no favors for the scars and blemishes marring her face. Ah well, she wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking for human; he’d certainly pulled far worse in his time.

Her mismatched eyes flick up to meet him when he enters, acknowledging his entry before she returns to her task of trimming the ends of her braids with a knife. A rather dull knife, from the hack job that was being done in his presence.

“That won’t do at all,” he tuts. “That thing isn’t fit to cut a stick of butter. Here.” He pulls his dagger from its holster and holds it up as an offering. “Sharp enough to stab clean through a goblin’s ribcage.”

“Ew.”

“I cleaned it, after,” he clarifies.

She accepts the blade, and slices off the blackened, burnt hair with a few short wrist movements. She turns to show him her handiwork, where one braid now hangs, a few inches shorter than the other.

“Shall we cut the other, so they match?” he offers. Her shoulders slump.

“No, it’s fine,” she says through gritted teeth. The loss of a few inches of hair seems to vex her for some reason. He shrugs, not really caring either way.

She brushes the braids to the side, drawing his attention instantly to the smooth column of her neck. His eyes track the faint marks from where his teeth last pierced her, remembering her hot blood filling his mouth.

Astarion swallows. His fangs feel heavy, as does the deep hungering and craving in his belly. Her heart beats as loud to his ears as one of the goblin’s war drums since he’s been glutted on the blood of thinking creatures, and Morgan’s blood in particular sang to him from under her skin the longer he went without. Her wild magic perhaps, gave it a certain ambrosia that the bandits and goblins he fed from couldn’t begin to compare to. All of it swill, compared to the vintage in front of him.

There’s a moment when the scent of blood so close sends his bestial craving into a frenzy, and he’s overwhelmed with the monstrous urge to pin and bite, to rip and tear into her neck and gorge himself until there’s nothing left of her.

“I take it you’re here for blood?”

She’s staring at him staring at her neck, and he quickly wrests control over the thrashing beast of his hunger and looks up at her with his mask in place. A practiced smile, given thousands of times. “Are you offering?” He leans into her personal space, slides a hand on her hip. Lets a bit of heat rumble into his voice, pitched low next to her rounded ear.

Her expression doesn’t betray her, but the roar of blood rushing through her veins at her quickened heart rate is proof enough of her arousal at his nearness. Typical human, he smirks. Always flattered by attention from their betters.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” she answers him, flipping the dagger around to hand it to him handle first. Sheathing it quickly, he sits back and pats his lap.

“Come here darling, let’s get comfortable.”

She settles between his legs, back against his chest. She tilts her head, holding onto her braids. Her pulse jumps and his craving intensifies.

It hadn’t taken much effort at all to maneuver her into this position. A smug satisfaction fills him from head to toe, all the more potent by the anticipation of their blood exchange.

He intends to draw out the moment of the bite and savor it, but with her neck offered before him he gives into his need and sinks his teeth into her flesh, forgetting to be gentle in his eagerness. She winces and makes a pained sound so he pulls his fangs back to soothe the wound with his tongue with her blood on his lips. As like all the times before, his senses are flooded with sensation and feeling and an awareness he’d been lacking for so long.

How denied he had been! Made to beg for the putrid blood of insects and vermin, decade after decade, and even being happy to receive that after years without anything at all but the deepest pits of hunger clawing at his sanity. The taste of sewage and ash was all he’d known, and now a veritable feast fit for a Lord lies in his lap, freely given. The rich, complex flavor of her magic touched blood bursts on his tongue in ways completely foreign to him.

His mind, sharp and focused now without the fog of hunger clouding his every move. The heaviness that dragged his limbs was gone as a warmth began to bloom in his chest. He could take on all of his siblings in this state, he thinks, feeling drunk on her power. The image of throttling Petras fills him with a giddy sort of glee that makes him grin against her throat.

A drop of blood escapes him and begins to dribble down the side of her neck. He chases it with his tongue, licking his way back up to the wound he’d made to press his mouth back to it. She shivers, the movement drawing his attention with predatory intensity.

Her arousal would be obvious even if he couldn’t taste it in her blood. He could see it in the way she shifted against him, clutching his forearm and making those little breathy sounds he was all too familiar with.

Her life’s blood slides down his throat, and he groans from the taste, his newfound strength, and her own sexual arousal leaking from her tadpole to his. Even his squirming little brain companion seemed pleased by the feast before him.

Careful, careful, he reminds himself. He can’t weaken her too much, in case Cazador’s minions find them out here and try to bring him back.

An unwanted feeling of helplessness and panic runs over him, and he curses the power his old master still holds over him even in his absence. Pathetic.

Still, he needs her hale. He can’t be too greedy, lest the cleric turns her temper back onto him again.

Morgan’s eyelids start to droop and he pulls back reluctantly, staunching the small wound with his fingers. The smell and taste of her blood lingers in his mouth and he sighs, feeling warm and altered.

She stirs and tries to sit up, but falls back against him. Shit, maybe he did take too much.

“Shh…shh…just rest here a moment,” he reassures, guiding her to the bedroll. He hovers over her and puts a hand on her chin, looking into her eyes. She meets his gaze and appears coherent but weakened, which satisfies him. However, best to not leave her in such a state to ensure she wouldn’t suffer any ill effects that would earn him another thrashing from the cleric, or worse, a stake.

“How do you feel?” He asks her, trying to keep her awake and talking.

“Weak,” she wheezes, in that odd accent of hers. He still hasn’t placed it. “Almost blacked out, trying to stand.”

“Hmm.” He inspects the bite marks on her neck, finding them scabbed over already. His fangs itch to open them once more and drain her dry, but he clamps down on the intrusive urge and reaches for a jug of water. He pours some into a tin cup and bids her to drink.

Morgan downs the cup quickly with a shaking hand, prompting him to refill the cup after she drains it. She drinks that one too, then groans and manages to sit up.

He makes his move.

“Ahh, poor little pudding. I do appreciate the sacrifice you are making, on my behalf,” he says, letting his unnecessary breath ghost across her skin as he plucks the empty cup from her grasp. His fingers linger a little longer than necessary on hers. “How could I possibly repay you for such a debt?”

“Umm,” she seems distracted. He smiles inwardly. “It’s fine, if it helps you fight. The weakness doesn’t last long.”

“Still,” he tuts in mock consternation. “You deserve a reward for all of this. I am so very grateful for all you’ve given me…” he sets the empty cup aside, and very gently rests one of his palms on her thigh.

She snorts as she considers him for a moment. “What are you offering?”

“Well…” he lets the phrase linger on his tongue as his fingers dance a trail up her clothed thigh. “Perhaps a night to ourselves, so I can show you in great detail how pleased I am with what you’ve given me.” He pauses. “And I do mean sex by the way, if that wasn’t clear.”

“Okay. When?”

Well, that was easy. This woman was clearly an idiot, agreeing to meet a vampire alone in the darkness, and he couldn’t be happier with his fortune.

“Tomorrow,” he purrs, gracefully sliding next to her on the bedroll. He props his head up with a hand and raises his other to push some stray hairs out of her face. “I’ll find us a nice secluded paradise where we can make all the noise we want without the others to trouble us.”

“Why not now? I can be very quiet.”

That drew a genuine bark of laughter from him. “Eager little thing!” His eyes rake down her form in a show of rakish approval before his free arm snakes around her waist to drag her down to him. She lets out a little squeal, which he likes. “I’d much rather have you screaming my name all night, if it’s all the same to you,” he growls in her ear.

“All night? That’s a bold claim, don’t you think?”

Brat.

“The cleric said you should rest after giving blood in any case,” he reminds her, dragging a thumb across her lips. She catches his thumb and bites it, leaving a weak impression of her blunt teeth. “You’ll have to control your lust for a little bit longer, my dear.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but her smile is lazy and amused. Good.

”Fine,” she yawns, punctuating his point. “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty tired.”

“Then sleep, lover…and after a stimulating day of slaughtering more goblins, no doubt, we will indulge in our every desire.”

“Sounds good.” The word are slurred from her exhaustion, and come out more as “s’goo.” Her eyes drift shut.

Astarion lifts himself off her bedroll and watches her for a second. Her heartbeat and breathing has returned to normal levels, so he lets himself out of her tent. Back into the darkness of the evening, his senses flare to life; vision piercing through the darkness, conversations from all the way across camp playing in his ears, sensing a myriad of delicious heartbeats and pulses throbbing all around him.

None as enticing as the feast he’s had just now.

He slips into the shadows between the tents, remaining undetected until he reaches the one he has claimed as his own. The interior is littered with jars of congealed blood from enemies he’s attempted to preserve, but the thought of consuming them now after the banquet he just dined on is unthinkable. He lays back onto his own bedroll instead to contemplate his good fortune.

It was good he got to Morgan first, given how both Gale and Lae’zel had been looking at her. Though imagining her and Gale together was laughable; if his lectures didn’t put her to sleep they wouldn’t stop bickering long enough to get their clothes off. Morgan had made her disdain of wizards clear enough, not that it stopped the man’s pathetic longing in her direction.

Lae’zel would be a bit more problematic if she chose to pursue his target. He’d have to keep an eye on the gith.

Without those two mucking around in his territory, Astarion was confident he could keep her interest, if tonight’s little dance had been any indication.

He’d secure Morgan’s favor, and convince her to talk the others into helping him kill Cazador after dealing with this worm business. Then? Well he had all the time in the realms to figure that out.

**

Thank you for reading! I did not plan to write any fanfiction for this fandom but @mercymaker and I have been chatting about sexy vampire bites and throat ripping and it changed my brain chemistry and wouldn’t leave me alone until I got this out of my system 😅

[sunsetbois]

Saw your prompt list, can I pretty pretty please have omni for 15, 8 and 4 need it need it need it

Sure thing <3 Prompt list here for requests

4 "Do you forgive me?"

8 "I, and only I know what you NEED"

15. "Put that down. before I make you. do not test me."

Not doing a word count lol- this only took like 20 mins- I loveeeee prompts my guy :)

Warnings: Spanking, implied dub con. Obs you were kidnapped to play house.

__

Omni Mark had grew up around humans in his early childhood and through his years as a teenager until now. Desperation was a trait shared by humanity it seemed, but did you really think him a fool that he didn't just see what you did?

Did you really think he was THAT stupid? that he hadn't just saw you steal a knife from the kitchen? really?

The steely gaze washing over your stiff form in the new knitted cable knit jumper he got you to match him. The sleeves were covering your knuckles. When he says your name, he saw you tuck your arms sheepishly behind you- another reason why you could never hide anything from him. He was too loving, too observant- too consistent not to catch onto your latest stunt since he took you.

With a sigh heavier than his heart, he turns the TV on as you rushed to bring the large bowl of popcorn you had volunteered, no insisted- his first mistake- in bringing to the cozy living space he provided. still sat on the couch, filling out the space- he watches you.

"Thank you love." A placation before he sets his eyes on the one arm you kept stiffly to your side. "What do you have there?" Chocolate he hoped.

When you froze up, almost flinched when the knife tip cut your delicate wrist just a touch- he knew.

That was the funny thing about the man before you. He never had to intimidate you with his height. His tone was enough- the implication of what would happen if you were lying, again. After so long of being good. Why did you have to disappoint him?

Still, your admittance of "Nothing" means nothing when he fixed you with that look. A look very familiar when he knew you were lying. That thrum to your heart beat said otherwise.

If you let a silly thought like trying to kill him entertain you, then perhaps he had taken you on as a lost cause. But still, he loved you. Even if he knew you didn't always see it.

"Put that down, before I make you. Do not test me." Gone was the gentle nudge. He sits the large bowl of popcorn down on the side table, watching you expectantly. If he really wanted to, he could just take it from you, but he didnt. He wanted it to be your choice.

When you did, he tuts at the knife. A tilt of his head and a dark quirked brow tells you, 'Really?'

Even in a beige cable knit jumper, he still scared the fuck out of you. After so long locked up here- with a man who insisted you were where you needed to be. You conceded.

"I thought you learned your lesson last month. I was going to take you outside." As if it was your fault. Before you could try and explain, he was snatching your wrist, a contrast to the calm. He was bending you over his knee, ignoring the hitch in your breath.

The sting of your jeans being ripped down stiffled by the knee in your stomach. Ass bared to the still room, as if you had done something bad and not him. As usual, his hand came down, hard- an insult to his true strength. The startled screech that left your throat was nothing short of pained, the first handprint left. "You left me no choice." Another, you were jolted forward. Another, you were almost crying, another and you were crying. "I and only I know what you NEED" He reinforced, reaching 9.

Until he counted 10 in total. 10 for the amount of time it took you to come back and 10 for how little time it took you to get that silly little notion into your head. The knife at best would have dented, or bent if you were lucky, but you were not as enhanced as he was. No, he needed to spank the idea out of your head before you'd receive anything gentle from him.

When you apologize, an obvious lie, he takes it. You are human, humans get scared easy. He lets you sit on his knee, wiping your teary face with the sleeve of his knitted jumper as you squirmed from the stinging sensation.

Omni could see the discomfort on your face, hidden beneath the forced lesson he had you endure.

After what you did, he should've ended the movie night he had planned. You had been bad after all, but part of him was still soft enough to care. Fear was not his ultimate goal. He didn't take you, just to make you a fearful little thing.

"Can you forgive me?" The tenderness in his voice outweighed the sting of your ass as you sniffled. The mood change, noticed.

'No'. you wanted to say. that none of this was okay. Yet, experience told you, denying him would make it worse for you, not now- but his doting to make it up to you was worse than the latter.

"Yes."

"Good, now let's finish this and then perhaps, an early night?"

No. no. no. You knew what an early night meant.

[theweightofakiteofdreamsingold]

Strawberry Icing - Jake Kiszka

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, language, MINORS DNI

a/n: Hiiii. So this is pretty much just smut. Very minimal to absolutely no plot. So, enjoy. 😊

-Ken

You hummed along to the soft music coming from the Bluetooth speaker on the kitchen counter as you ran the knife around the edge of the small vanilla cake, coating it in frosting. You heard the front door open and shut, followed by the soft thudding of footsteps. You glanced at the clock on the oven. 1:25 AM. You turned to the doorway of the kitchen just as Jake padded though it, and you gasped involuntarily at the sight of him.

His black button-down was open halfway, and his necklaces were shining against his bare chest. His baggy, ripped jeans hung loosely around his lower half. What really took your breath away was the smudged black lines around his tired eyes. He walked over to you with a gentle smile.

"Hi baby. What are you doing up?" He placed an arm around your waist and kissed your forehead.

You felt your heart beat faster as you took in his scent. He was wearing the cologne you had bought him months ago for his birthday; Sandalwood, sea salt and vanilla. That, mixed with his own musk, made you clench your thighs together.

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to bake." You turned to reveal the half-frosted cake behind you.

He looked down at the cake, a sly smile spreading on his lips. He moved his free hand towards the cake, letting his middle finger swipe across the frosting. He brought it up to his lips, and you watched as his tongue slipped through and ran up the length of his finger before taking it in his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. He removed his glistening finger, licking his lips. He leaned into you until the tips of your noses were touching.

"Mmm. Strawberry. My favorite," he groaned, as his lips crashed into yours.

His tongue licked at your bottom lip, asking for entry. You parted your lips, letting him in. You let out a quiet moan as his tongue swirled around yours. You could taste the strawberry sweetness lingering on him. You pulled away, catching your breath, and grabbed his hand in yours, leading him to the next room over that housed the dining table.

"So eager. Does my little girl want to get bent over the table again?" He laughed as he landed a smack on your ass.

You turned to him with a sweet smile, grabbing his wrists. "No. I want to watch that pretty, made-up face while I cum on your cock."

You kicked the leg of one of the chairs, making it squeak against the wooden floor. His eyes were blown wide open as you guided him down into the seat. He sat with his legs spread. His hands rested on his thighs, his lips parted as his eyes watched you with hungry anticipation. You sank to your knees between his legs, ignoring the hardness of the floor below you.

You made quick work of his belt, button, and zipper. You slipped a hand into his pants, palming him through his boxers. He was growing hard in your hand, making you bite your lip to stifle a moan. You looked up at him through your lashes as you slipped him from his boxers.

"How was the show, Jakey?" You asked quietly as you delicately caressed his flush pink head with your tongue. You wrapped your lips around it, letting him feel the warmth and wetness of your mouth before pulling back.

"I bet you made every girl's pussy wet when they saw you in your eyeliner." His brows furrowed as he mouthed fuck in your direction. "I bet they all went home and touched themselves while they thought of you." You left open mouth kisses down the length of his shaft.

He let his head fall back as his hands found your hair, burying his fingers in it.

"Baby, please. I love when you talk like that. You have such a filthy mouth," he whined as his hands silently urged you to take him in your throat.

You hummed as you took him in your mouth fully. You pushed down until he hit the back of your throat, making you gag. He groaned as he raised his hips from the chair, standing up. He kept a hand on the back of your head, keeping you still as he pulled almost fully out of your mouth before thrusting sharply. You looked up at him while he fucked your throat.

"Yes, sweetheart. You're taking that cock so good for me." He reached his free hand to your cheek, brushing away a tear that had escaped your watering eye.

You focused on breathing out of your nose as he fucked into you. He thrust once more before pulling out, staggering back into the chair, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead. You wiped your mouth and your eyes as you stood up.

Jake's eyes burned into you as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Come here,” he ordered with a low tone.

You closed the small gap between you and stood in front of him. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your sleep shorts, pulling them down your legs. You stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.

"Shirt." He jerked his head up as he rubbed his chin.

You pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you completely naked under his gaze. He leaned back, taking you in. His eyes lingered on every part of your body. He loved the way your nipples puckered and stood erect for him. The curve of your hips made his cock twitch. His eyes lingered longer on your heat, his favorite thing to be buried inside of. He grabbed your wrist, carefully turning you around. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

"Put your feet on my knees and lean back," he whispered into the shell of your ear as he kneaded one of your breasts.

You did as you were told, propping your feet on him and leaning back into his chest, the cold metal hanging from his neck cooling your hot skin. He reached his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers through your folds.

"You're so wet for me, princess,” he growled in your ear before turning his head to look down your body. This angle gave him the perfect view to watch his fingers torture you. "Such a pretty little cunt." He let his middle finger slide into you at an impossibility slow pace.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh. He turned his head back towards you. His mouth latched onto your neck, licking and sucking as his finger pumped into you faster. You whined as he added his pointer finger, curling them inside you, hitting the spot that drove you insane. He removed his mouth from your neck to watch his attack on your pussy once again.

"Oh fuck baby. Look. You're creaming,” he moaned as you felt his cock throb under your ass.

You lifted your head and looked down to his fingers. The sight of his cream-covered fingers slipping in and out of you were enough to push you to the very edge.

"Jake. I'm gonna cum," you squealed as you tried to fight your orgasm.

"Do it. Cum for me, princess. Cum all over my hand." He sank his teeth into your neck, biting firmly.

His words sent you flying over the edge. You screamed his name to the heavens as your release coated his hand and the floor.

"Fuck yeah, baby. That's my girl!" He cheered as he fucked you though your orgasm.

He removed his fingers from you once you stopped writhing in his lap. You stood up on shaky legs and turned to face him. His eyes were dark and full of lust, and they watched as you helped him out of his jeans. He undid his shirt buttons and slipped it from his arms, letting it drape on the back of the chair. You straddled his legs, the tip of his angry cock sliding though your wetness as you rocked your hips, teasing him.

He looked up at you, his brows furrowed and eyes pleading. He took in a trembling breath. "Please. I need you," He whimpered as he placed his hands on your hips, fingers digging into you.

Your heart skipped a beat at the desperation in his voice. It made you feel powerful knowing a million girls screamed for him and played with themselves thinking about him, but he begged for only your pussy. You lined your entrance with his length and sank down onto him. You both cried out in unison, relieved to finally be connected.

Once he was buried deep inside you, you paused, letting the feeling of his thickness filling you up radiate through you. You could feel him throbbing against your walls.

"Fuck, Jakey. You feel so good." You lifted your hips only to let them crash back down on him.

He hissed through his teeth, leaning forward to take your hard nipple into his mouth. His warm tongue swirling around your flesh made you clench around him. He moaned against you as you repeatedly bounced in his lap. He popped off of your breast and leaned back in the chair. His hands rested on your thighs as he watched his cock disappear in you over and over.

You placed your hands on the back of the chair at either side of his head, using it to keep you steady as you quickened your pace. You let out a whine as you took in his fucked-out face. His cheeks and nose were rosy pink, his lips sat slightly parted, and his eyes sat half-lidded. The blackness around them was sumged past the outer corners from the sweat kissing his skin.

"You're so fucking pretty, Jake," you breathed out, moving into him to place a soft kiss on his lips.

He smiled, returning your kiss and placing his hands back on your hips, stilling your movements. "Not as pretty as you full of my cock, sweetheart." He punctuated his reply with a shap thrust up into you.

You gasped at the suddenness and grabbed his shoulders. He grunted and stood up with you wrapped around his waist. He laid you down on the table before grabbing your calves, spreading your legs wide for him. He thrusted his hips fast and hard, making you screw your eyes shut and scream.

He placed a thumb on your clit, rubbing sloppy circles. You felt his strokes stutter, and you knew he was close.

"Cum for me, pretty girl." He pumped a few more times, moaning your name.

"Oh fuck, Jake. Yes!" Your back arched from the table as you bloomed for him. Your orgasm covering his cock and thighs.

He was right behind you, coating your insides with his sweet nectar. He cried out for you as his body shuddered. He collapsed onto you, his forehead on your stomach.

You both laid there, nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing and gentle music flowing from the kitchen. After what felt like an eternity in the blissful afterglow, you sat up on your elbows, looking down to him. He lifted his head, his chin resting just below your belly button.

You smiled and brushed a wild strand of hair from his forehead. He sighed contently and smiled back at you. He kissed your stomach before standing up and removing his soft member from you. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning shortly with a damp, warm cloth, and carefully cleaned you up. He helped you down from the table and slipped his jeans back on, not bothering to button them. You pulled on your crumpled shirt and leaned into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. He rubbed circles into your lower back and kissed the top of your head.

"I love you," he murmered sleepily into your hair.

You squeezed him gently and kissed his chest. "I love you more."

He let his hands wander to the curve of your ass and gave you a light swat. "Now, let's get that cake and go to bed."

You giggled and looked up at him. "The whole cake?"

"Yes. You've made me ravenous, darling." He winked and kissed the tip of your nose.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

With or Without You

A Byerson fanfic

DUSTIN

He managed to dodge the others successfully and peel off on his bike. He just needed a few minutes alone with Eddie without anyone watching him or looking over his shoulder. Dustin turned into Roane County cemetery and continued to peddle until he found the right row. He dropped his bike and walked past gravestones until he came to Eddie's.

"Son of a bitch!" Dustin screamed.

HERE LIES EDDIE MUNSON. BELOVED NEPHEW AND FRIEND. Spray painted over it were the words: BURN IN HELL. Even though his name has been cleared, people still refuse to believe the truth. Eddie Munson was, in fact, a hero. Dustin pulled out a rag and a spray bottle before getting to work. It wasn't the first time that he had to do this, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," Dustin said as he furiously scrubbed at the words. "I'm sorry that they assumed the worst about you. I'm sorry that they couldn't see who you truly are, and I, uh, I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time. You don't deserve this."

Dustin dropped the rag, letting out a heavy sob. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

"Your king freak deserved everything he got, and so do you," a voice said from behind him.

Dustin whipped his head around to find Andy standing over him. He glared coldly at him.

"No. He didn't. He was innocent, and unlike Jason, Eddie was the real hero. If anyone deserves what came to him, it was Jason who attacked innocent people. He attacked a young girl and tried to kill Lucas. We did nothing wrong, but clearly, you and your friends are too stupid to see that! I feel sorry for you," Dustin snapped.

It was the wrong thing to say, Dustin knew that. He didn't care. Andy grabbed him by his shirt and punched him.

"That's for being a freak," Andy sneered. "That's for insulting Jason and this. . .this is for ruining our artwork."

He punched him again, Dustin's Hellfire shirt ripping when he did. Dustin collapsed onto the ground. Blood was dripping from his nose and a cut on his eyebrow from Andy's class ring. Andy started moving towards him when a figure came out of nowhere, tackling him. The figure yelled and started punching Andy, not giving him a chance to punch back. It took Dustin a minute to realize what he was seeing. It was Will who was beating the shit out of Andy. There was pure rage on his face, which was odd considering how soft it was most of the time. Andy swung out, and Will dodged, pulling back. He punched Andy again, pushing him back. Dustin only had eyes for Will, his heart pounding in his chest as the look of fury and protectiveness on his face grew with each hit. Dustin blinked. It was actually kind of hot. Andy was ready to attack Will when Will pulled out a knife.

"Fuck. Off," Will growled, clenching his jaw and staring him down.

Andy stared at him and then at Dustin. He spat blood at Dustin's feet before deciding he was outnumbered and stalked away.

"Thanks," Dustin said.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Will spat. "I'm taking you back to the station to clean you up, and then we're going to talk about you running off on your own."

Dustin swallowed thickly, shame flooding him, and then he cracked a grin.

"You sound like your parents," Dustin said.

"Shut up," Will said, smiling.

WILL

He sighed as he sat Dustin down on the couch in the empty radio station.

"Where is everyone?" Dustin asked.

"They're not back yet," Will said as he pulled out a first aid kit.

Will began gently cleaning up the blood. He hated seeing Dustin looking like this. All beat up and sad. He was also quieter than usual, and Will couldn't help but miss his voice that could, on most days, fill up a room.

"I know it was stupid," Dustin said. "I just needed to see him by myself. . .I just - he died in my arms, Will - he just fucking died in my arms and you know what the fucked up thing is? I'm fucking angry at him! He's dead, and I'm pissed at him!"

"I think it's normal to be angry about that," Will said softly as he continued to take care of him.

"It doesn't feel normal," Dustin muttered, tears falling from his eyes as his voice broke. "I miss him."

"I was mad at first when you told me that you guys wanted to join another party," Will said as he finished up.

"You were?" Dustin asked.

"Yeah, I mean, I wasn't going to join another party, and I thought you guys weren't going to either," Will said and sighed. "I mean, I did think that we were going to play D&D together forever. It was selfish of me to expect that, though. We may share some interests, but we're different people, and we're not always going to want to play the game, especially at the same time. I was just upset that Lucas and Mike were too busy with their girlfriends to pay attention to me."

"I would have played with you," Dustin said.

"I know you would have," Will laughed and put away the first aid kit. "I mean, just because I don't like girls doesn't mean that Lucas and Mike shouldn't. Honestly, I don't think I was really mad at them. After being possessed and kidnapped, I just wanted to pretend that everything was okay and that I wasn't having nightmares every night. I was pushing away the guilt and the anger, but it was all still there. I wasn't the same person I was before. Mike and Lucas doing their own thing reminded me of that."

"Guilt?" Dustin asked softly.

"I know that it was the Mind Flayer," Will said, and he could feel his own voice breaking. "But I keep thinking about those scientists and Bob. . .I feel like it was my fault."

"Bullshit!" Dustin yelled, and Will smiled. "It's not your fault! It was the Mind Flayer, that no good son of a bitch was the one controlling you!"

"Well, actually, it was probably Vecna," Will frowned. "Look, Eddie made his own choice that night. You couldn't control what he did. He chose to sacrifice himself, to give the others more time. I only met him once, but I know that he wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself for what happened to him. You couldn't force him to stop. We're all responsible for our choices, Dustin, and he made his."

"You met him?" Dustin asked.

"It was the spring 84, after it happened the first time. Jonathan and I went to the record store. A couple of bullies came, and Eddie took a baseball in the stomach that was meant for me. I was pretty tired of being called zombie boy, but Eddie made me feel better about it. Do you want to know what he said?" Will asked softly.

"Yeah," Dustin nodded eagerly.

"They can call you whatever you want. That doesn't mean a single thing about you. It just means something about them. At the end of the day, you're the only person who knows who you are," Will said, and then he laughed. "Besides. Zombie boy? As far as nicknames go, that one's metal as shit."

Dustin laughed for the longest time and then he started crying.

"That's very Eddie," Dustin sobbed.

"Eddie told me about Hellfire. After I got over the initial hurt, I laughed about it. Of course, you were going to join. I would have, too," Will said. "I'm really glad they had your back, and I'm really glad you had Eddie looking out for you."

Dustin sobbed even harder. Will took him into his arms, holding him tightly. Dustin's body shook as he buried his head into the crook of his neck.

"Screw you for getting taller than me, Byers," Dustin said, his voice muffled.

Will laughed as Dustin squeezed his arms around his waist. Dustin fell silent as his sobs subsided. It was actually nice holding him like this. Will froze when Dustin started snoring. Was he fucking with him or was Dustin actually asleep? Judging by the way he was breathing, Will knew he was asleep. He cursed and maneuvered their bodies so he could sit on the couch. He placed a pillow onto his lap and removed Dustin's hat before carefully laying Dustin's head down on the pillow. He slowly started running his fingers through Dustin's curls. It really was the worst thing in the world, Will thought, for Dustin Henderson to be so sad.

DUSTIN

" - I can't believe that you went off on your own - I mean, I can, but Andy could have killed you! You die, I die, remember?" Steve scolded, his hands on his hips. "Are you even listening to me?"

"No, his ears are currently just decoration right now, Steve," Robin said.

Dustin really wasn't listening. All he could think about was Will's hand running through his curls. He cursed.

"I think my crush on Will is coming back," Dustin said.

Robin had taken a drink of water at the wrong time. She spat it out all over Steve, who was so shocked that he didn't even care.

"What?!" Robin and Steve asked.

Dustin rolled his eyes. The three of them were sitting in the break room of the radio station, trying to decide what their next move would be. None of them had been too happy with him for his misadventure or the fact that Will had to fight off Andy.

"Since when do you like guys?" Steve asked.

"Since always, Steve. I told you both this," Dustin said.

"No. No, you didn't," Steve said.

"Yeah, a few months ago when you both told me about yourselves," Dustin blinked.

"All you said was that you didn't care who you fell for," Robin said. "And that was several hours after that conversation."

"How were we supposed to know that it meant you like, well, whatever?" Steve asked, waving his hands. "I mean, you said that you weren't like us."

"Yeah, okay, this might have been on me," Dustin said, thoughtfully. "Anyway, yes, I used to have a crush on Will, but now I think it's back, or maybe it's never gone away."

"When did you have a crush on Will?" Steve asked.

"Before I surprise adopted you, and before all this shit went down," Dustin said and frowned. "I had to be Mike and Lucas's mediator when Will went missing, but I was freaking inside. I had to help find him, though, and I couldn't let anything else get in the way, so I think I just buried it. When Max came along, it felt a lot like I had to have a crush on her, and I think I was forcing myself to like her. It wasn't until Suzie came along that I realized that I was more attracted to what was on the inside and that girls were a possibility for me. Will. . .he was always actually interested in my inventions, and when he looked at me, it was like, I don't know, he could see me. It was like that with Suzie, too."

"I totally get that," Robin said softly. "It's like that with Vickie."

"So, you're just not necessarily attracted to gender," Steve said frowning.

"Yeah," Dustin shrugged. "Is that okay?"

"What?! Yeah, of course, it is! You're my little brother, I love you," Steve said.

"That's the first time you said you love me," Dustin beamed.

"Yeah, well, don't let it get to your head, butthead," Steve said and shoved his hat over his eyes.

Dustin laughed before throwing himself into his arms, hugging him.

"I love you, too, Steve," Dustin said.

"And I'm sitting over here like a piece of chopped liver," Robin sighed.

"I love you, too," Dustin said and pulled her into a hug.

Robin pulled back and squeezed his cheeks. She frowned.

"I've decided. I'm going to hunt Andy down and make him eat his own dick for what he did to our brother," Robin said.

"You and me both," Steve scoffed.

The door to the break room opened, and Will came in.

"Hey, I just wanted to get a water, don't mind me," Will said and moved to fridge.

Robin turned to Dustin and gave him a knowing smile before mouthing some words.

'Excuses.'

'Shut up, Robin,' Dustin mouthed back, blushing. 'Get out.'

Dustin gave them both a look, and it didn't need saying that he wanted to talk to Will alone. He wanted to tell him. Steve got up and stretched.

"Well, I think it's about time we head out and do that thing we said we would do," Steve said.

"Ah, yes, that thing," Robin said, nodding her head. "Let us depart, Steven."

"Yes, lets," Steve said and put his arm through hers.

It was a small doorway, and still linked, they tried to walk through it together. Will and Dustin watched as they maneuvered awkwardly through the doorway without breaking their arms. Dustin popped his head out after them.

"You guys are terrible at this!" Dustin shrieked.

"What was that about?" Will asked as he got a water bottle out of the fridge.

Dustin whirled around, eyes wide. He panicked at first, but seeing Will standing there looking at him with his hazel eyes suddenly, Dustin felt a sense of calm. He laughed, letting his shoulders relax.

"Oh, I just told them that I used to have a crush on you," Dustin said as Will took a drink of his water.

Will gasped and nearly choked on his water. His look was so comical that Dustin wanted to laugh, but he refrained. He didn't want him to think that it was a joke.

"What?!" Will exclaimed.

"Yeah, maybe I should stop saying things like that when people are about to take a drink," Dustin said.

Will coughed a few times before clearing his throat and taking a few swallows of water.

"You - you had a crush on me?" Will asked.

"Yeah, it was a long time ago," Dustin said. "Before I went off to camp."

"But - but Suzie - ," Will stuttered, his cheeks pink.

"I've always cared more about what's on the inside that matters," Dustin said, and he could feel his cheeks growing warm. "I always thought that you had the biggest heart out of anyone I've ever met. I think that's why I fell for Suzie. She reminded me of you and the way was interested in what I had to say. . .in me and my inventions. My feelings for her had been as real as they had been for you. I think they're coming back, though. My feelings for you. . ."

"You like me again?" Will asked.

"Yeah," Dustin said.

An awkward silence over them as Will looked at him in sympathy and guilt.

"Thank you, for telling me," Will said. "I'm flattered really but I have feelings for Mike. . .and I know he's dating my sister but I don't think that's ever going to change. . .I'm sorry."

Dustin opened his mouth to say something along the lines of Will giving himself the chance to explore other options but for once Dustin kept his big mouth closed. It wasn't his place to say especially out of jealousy and he couldn't tell someone else how to feel, he realized, even if those feelings hurt him. He was about to say something else when Nancy and Jonathan walked into the break room. Dustin rolled his eyes and tried to control the emotions on his face.

"It's okay, Will," Dustin sighed. "You were my best friend before anything else and that's always been the most important thing."

Dustin hugged him tightly and then moved back.

"Dustin," Will started to say.

"Seriously, it's okay, Will," Dustin said. "Like I said, you're my best friend and nothing is going to change that."

WILL

He sat in his room, his sketchpad open in front of him as he tried to get Dustin's face just right. Will couldn't get that moment out of his head. It's okay, Will. Those words kept filtering in out of his mind like a sharp knife that kept stabbing him. There was a part of him that wanted what he was offering but it wouldn't have been fair to Dustin to accept it when Will knew very well that he still had feelings for Mike. No matter what he did, he always would. Will hated himself a little bit for that. He sighed and slammed his sketchpad closed.

"Why am I such an idiot?" Will asked.

Of course, his mother happened to be passing by his door. She always seemed to know when he was in distress. It was both a blessing and a curse, he thought.

"Honey, is everything okay?" Joyce asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Will sighed. "I mean, as good as I can be during all this."

"Something seems to be bothering you," Joyce said sitting on the edge of his bed.

"It's not important," Will said.

"Just because it's not as serious as what's going on, doesn't mean it's not important," Joyce said. "You remember our previous conversation. . .no matter what, I love you."

"I want to talk about it but it's someone else's personal secret. I can't even hint at it because you're too smart for your own good and you'd figure it out," Will rolled his eyes, huffing and sighing. "Mom, do you think I'll ever get over Mike?"

"Well, he's been your best friend since kindergarten, and the kind the feelings you've developed just don't go away overnight," Joyce said. "Just give it time."

"And if we don't have the time?" Will asked.

"Don't rush yourself just because you feel like you should," Joyce said. "You'll know when the time is right. Do you want to get over Mike?"

Dustin's smiling face appeared in his mind and the smile he shot Will when he came home from camp, showing off his inventions. It had meant so much to Dustin that Will had truly been interested in his inventions. Will had always been amazed at what Dustin's mind could come up with. He thought about the letters that Dustin had sent him when he had been in California. Everything simply falls apart without you, Will the Wise. Dustin's smile, his curls, and the way his hat perched on top of his head like it was a permanent fixture. There was a warm fuzzy feeling beginning to grow in his chest.

"Yeah, I do," Will said.

"Then that's the first step and I know you can figure out the rest," Joyce said.

Later that evening they arrived at the radio station for another meeting as well as to watch Robin and Steve perform another broadcast. Will had to admit, they were highly entertaining especially when they brought Jonathan on and he surprised everyone with his fake British accent. It had also been surprising when Jonathan and Steve spent some time making each other laugh. Since when do they get along? Will's eyes landed on Mike and Dustin laughing about something in the corner. For the first time in a while, he wasn't focused on Mike but rather on Dustin. He decided that he liked the way he laughed. Dustin took off his hat and ran his fingers through his curls, making Will wish that he could do that again. Suddenly, Joyce let out a gasp beside him and he looked to find that she was pursing her lips.

"I didn't see anything," Joyce said quickly.

"Why do you have to be so perceptive?" He chuckled.

"I'm a mom," Joyce shrugged. "It's what I do."

DUSTIN

He was glad that Will was spending more time with him lately but he sometimes wondered if he was doing it out of pity. Then he remembered that Will Byers wouldn't do that. He sat in the hospital chair, staring at Max's room while Will sat down next to him.

"How the fuck are we supposed to be doing homework during all of this?" Dustin asked. "I mean, this entire town is in quarantine. . .there are soldiers everywhere and sometimes a monster pops out of the giant gate in the middle of town."

"What else are we supposed to do?" Will asked as he poured over his homework.

"I don't know. . .focus on the giant hole and the deformed octopus-looking asshole that's somehow managing to escape capture despite what he looks like?!" Dustin exclaimed. "Who, by the way, is also trying to use people like puppets?"

"Say it louder, I don't think that nurse over there heard you," Will said.

"William, you know that I have hard time controlling my volume," Dustin sighed.

"I know," Will said, looking at him affectionately.

"I just feel like we should be doing something," Dustin sighed.

"El, Kali, Mom and Dad are handling finding Creel. We're supposed to keep our heads down and keep an eye on Max as well as Lucas," Will said.

"Neither of them deserve this. They should be together again. . .I know they were going to start up again when everything went to fucking shit," Dustin said. "I know this time, it would have worked out. Max wouldn't have run away again."

Dustin couldn't help but think about Eddie and his brief feelings for Chrissy. He hadn't even had a chance. . .Steve wouldn't talk about what happened with Nancy but Dustin knew that something was happening. Joyce and Hopper were given a second chance. . . why not Lucas and Max? Dustin was a firm believer in love and he would consider himself a romantic. Maybe it just wouldn't happen for some people. Dustin suddenly felt Will's hand over his, squeezing his tightly. He stared at him and pulled his hand back quickly before standing up.

"Dustin," Will started to say.

"I, uh, have to go to the bathroom, you've got things here?" Dustin asked.

"Yeah," Will said, looking hurt.

Dustin just didn't want to give himself false hope, that's all. It was Will who said that he'd always have feelings for Mike. He stormed off to the bathroom and burst through without thinking. Robin and Vickie were pressed up against the sinks, kissing. Dustin groaned and rolled his eyes, causing them to jump apart.

"This is the men's room, isn't it?" Dustin asked.

"Shit, yeah it is," Robin said, spotting the urinals. "Oops."

"It's cleaner than I thought men's restrooms would be," Vickie said, blushing.

"Ugh, whatever, just get out!" Dustin snapped.

"Something on your mind, champ?" Robin asked.

Dustin waved his arms around which was the signal they had when they were all feeling overwhelmed by the situation. They were all despised by the entire town because they all thought their "satanist" game was the cause of all this. They were hunted and beaten. More people they cared for were put in the hospital with the added attacks by the monsters from the Upside Down and the rest of Hellfire had to go into hiding. Eddie's name was still slandered all over town and even though, it was cleaned daily, people still came back to deface his grave. Max, who had been put through the wringer, was still in a coma. Her mother had left and Lucas had refused to leave her side.

"I'm. . .tired," Dustin said, emphasizing it.

It was another code that they all knew well. Robin wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She kissed his forehead.

"We have to keep fighting," Robin said.

"I know," Dustin said. "I'm tired of fighting."

Honestly, he was starting to lose faith in love, too. He used to be full of hope and now everything felt so dark. Dustin wished Eddie was here. . .and there was a secret part of him, a dark part that wished people would stop finding love and hope when he couldn't find it himself. He cursed himself and realized how bad that was to think that. Dustin relaxed, letting himself feel Robin's arms around him. She really had become like a sister to him in the same way that Steve had become like a brother to him. Maybe it wasn't the kind of love he wanted but it was the kind of love that he needed in this moment. Life was full of disappointments, he realized, and he just had to find a way to live with that.

"Robin?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"I have to piss now, can you let me go?" Dustin asked.

Robin laughed and released him. She grabbed Vickie's hand and walked out the door with her. They both bumped into a guy.

"Isn't this the men's restroom?" he asked.

"These aren't the droids you're looking for," Robin said, giggling, and then took off with Vickie.

WILL

It had been an entire month since Dustin told him he had feelings for him and it was starting to get colder. Snow was starting to come around again.

"I'm sorry that I've been bitchy, Will," Dustin said. "I swear it's not because of you. I can move on. I've done it before. . .I just don't know why it's so much harder."

Will sat on the other side of the closet, his back against the wall while Dustin sat opposite of him. They were hiding from Andy and his friends. No matter what they did, nothing seemed to stop them from trying to commit murder. Will scowled at the bruise around Dustin's eye and balled his fists, before relaxing them.

"It's all gone to shit," Will said, staring at his bloody knuckles. "And because of that, I think it's easy to feel hopeless. You shouldn't."

"I don't think it's the lack of hope that's the problem when I'm around you, Will," Dustin said. "I feel more of it when I'm with you and I think sometimes, I just need to feel angry. If that makes sense."

"It does," Will said.

"I want this stop. . .I want us to stop fighting for our lives every single goddamn year. I want Max to wake up. I want Eddie to be alive. . .I want everyone to stop looking at us like we're evil. I want to stop being so fucking angry all the time but sometimes I feel like it's the only thing keeping me going!" Dustin sobbed.

"Dustin," Will said softly.

He didn't know what to say and he wasn't sure if he should say anything. Will moved next to him and wrapped his around Dustin. It was a rough adjustment for everyone. Every day was just them reliving their traumas over again and again. It was exhausting listening to the same music, too, just trying to keep the evil voice out. Holding Dustin in his arms, he realized that he didn't want him to move on. . .at least not from him. Will just wanted to make everything magically better for him.

"Uh, I think they're gone now," Dustin said into his chest.

"Just a few more minutes, just to be sure," Will said.

"Yeah, good idea," Dustin said softly, and he could feel him smiling.

A moment later, there came a knocking at the door. Dustin had settled comfortably against Will's chest and he was more relaxed than he had been before. They both groaned.

"Uh, you can come out now, they're gone," Mike's voice floated through the door.

Will got up first and held out his hand. Dustin blushed, took his hand, and got up. They held hands for a moment, Dustin enjoying the way it felt in his before exiting the closet, their hands dropping. They glared playfully at Mike.

"We were going to come out when were good and ready, Michael," Dustin said, rolling his eyes.

"We were in the closet," Will giggled and Dustin laughed with him.

"Did we miss something?" Lucas asked.

"Yes!"

DUSTIN

He walked into the library, one of the places that some of the jocks seemed to avoid. Dustin rolled his eyes at the thought. Don't they know what a harmful stereotype they were being? He returned the books he had checked out and went off to browse the shelves. Dustin was in the mood for something funny this time. He could use a good laugh. He was moving slowly through the stacks when he finally made it to the back and heard voices. He thought that one of them sounded like Will but it was muffled and there was another unfamiliar voice intermingled with Will's. Dustin quickly moved deeper into the back and found that Will was being pressed up against a shelf by Chance, one of Jason's friends. He wasn't nearly as bad as Jason but he still shoved them around and hunted them down over Spring Break. Chance and Will were kissing. Dustin's stomach dropped as he gasped loudly. Chance pulled away from Will.

"Dustin!" Will exclaimed. "This isn't what it looks like!"

Dustin ran off. He didn't care who Will kissed. . .he could kiss anyone he wanted to. In fact, he'd be happy for him if it was Mike but did it have to be Chance? Maybe Dustin was being stupid but he couldn't help but feel betrayed. After a rather angry free period where Dustin pouted in the empty drama room, he met MIke and Lucas at their usual lunch table. Will hadn't arrived yet and Dustin was thankful for that.

"What's wrong with you?" Lucas asked. "Did Andy get to you again?"

"Nope, it wasn't Andy," Dustin scowled as he moved his food around.

Just as Mike was about to say something, Will approached the table and was about to sit by Dustin as he usually did but Dustin placed his bag on the bench. Will frowned and moved to sit down next to Mike, who looked rather happy about that. Of course, he wouldn't be so happy if he knew that his best friend was sucking face with the enemy.

"Dustin - ," Will started to say.

"I walked in on my mom having sex with Wayne the other day," Dustin said quickly and Will's eyes widened.

He was going to keep it a secret for as long as possible but he'd rather talk about that then whatever Will had to say. Mike spat out his milk.

"What?!" Mike exclaimed. "Eddie's uncle?"

"No, funnily enough Wayne Newton strolled into town even though we're under quarantine and seduced my mother," Dustin said sarcastically.

"Dustin, come on, man," Lucas said.

"Sorry, I'm happy for them but I've got the image of Wayne's ass permanently burned into my eyes," Dustin said, shaking his head.

"Ugh," Lucas and Mike scrunching up their noses.

"I'm glad you and your mother could be there for him," Mike said softly.

Dustin smiled as he thought about it, briefly forgetting about his other troubles. It hadn't been easy for the three of them but his mother had felt guilty even doubting Eddie's innocence for even a minute so she invited Wayne to stay with them. Seeing how broken her son had been, had changed her mind instantly. While it had been rocky, having Wayne there. . .it kind of felt like he had become part of their family.

"I hope they get married," Dustin said, smiling at his food and taking a bite, refusing to meet Will's eyes.

Later that evening, they met once again at the radio station for an update and Mike had to see El again. Jonathan and Nancy were bringing her back from the hospital from visiting Max. Steve and Robin had already come back from driving around town when Dustin stormed past them, trying to get away from Will.

"Dustin, you don't understand! It wasn't what it looked like! He doesn't mean anything to me!" Will exclaimed. "He - "

"I really don't care anymore, Will. I mean, I thought you had better taste than that though and more self-respect!" Dustin snapped.

Dustin scurried off to the bathroom, trying his best to run away from him but Will's legs were longer. He could vaguely hear Robin talking to Steve.

"Oof, I think there's trouble in paradise," Robin hissed and paused. "Aw, their first fight, I think they'll be okay. . . they better."

Dustin went into the bathroom, breathing heavily and trying to calm his racing heart. Will, of course, followed him.

"Dustin! He kissed me! I didn't want to kiss him. That asshole's been obsessed with me for a while now. I've been trying to get him off of my back but he can't seem to take no for an answer. I would never date an asshole like that and it's pissing me off now that you seem to think that low of me!" Will yelled.

"You're pissed off?!" Dustin yelled, whirling around and then his shoulders relaxed. "You're really not dating him."

"Not even if we were the last two men on Earth," Will said.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me! Of course, I know that you wouldn't date someone like that!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Jealousy is an ugly emotion," Will grinned. "I've been there. It's not pretty."

"I'm trying to move on," Dustin groaned.

"What if I don't want you to move on?" Will asked.

"What?" Dustin asked.

"I said," Will replied, moving closer to him. "What if I don't want you to move on?"

"Uh, I mean, I guess I don't," Dustin said, gaping at him.

Will cupped Dustin's face and leaned down to capture his lips. God, Will's lips were as soft as he thought they were. Dustin stood on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Will's neck.

STEVE

"God, what the hell was that about?" Steve asked.

"God only knows. . .like I said, I'm sure they'll be alright," Robin said.

Steve and Robin moved into the break room, moving the groceries they picked up into the cabinets.

"Hope so. I like Will, but if he hurts Dustin. . .," Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'll do nothing because he's also Jonathan's brother."

Nancy and Jonathan came in after them. Steve's heart skipped a beat at the sight of them.

"Have you seen Will?" Jonathan asked Steve.

"Uh, yeah, he went to the bathroom, he was upset and - ," but Steve couldn't finish.

"He's upset?" Jonathan asked and started moving towards the bathroom.

Robin elbowed Steve in the stomach and gave him a look. Steve's eyes widened. Jonathan might know about Will but he might not know about Dustin. If they were making up then Jonathan shouldn't walk in on that especially if Dustin wasn't ready to tell anyone, yet. Steve and Robin quickly followed after Jonathan and Nancy.

"I just remembered that I have to take a piss," Steve said.

"Right now?" Nancy asked with a frown. "And Robin?"

"Yeah! Me too! It's just one of those times where our bladders synch up! It happens all the time!" Robin yelled.

"Right," Nancy sighed.

"I have to tell you both something!" Steve exclaimed.

"What's more important than my brother?" Jonathan asked.

"I'm in love with you, Jonathan!" Steve blurted out.

"You are?" Robin asked with wide eyes and he gave her a look. "I mean, he is! He definitely is and you should address that!"

"Don't you have to go to the bathroom?" Nancy asked.

"Two things could be true at once!" Steve said. "I'm also in love with you, Nancy, so you're going to have to deal with that, too."

"Okay, okay," Jonathan said, waving his hands. "We will, uh, talk about that later but my brother needs me."

Jonathan opened the door and found his brother locking lips with Dustin. They quickly flew apart.

"Shit, I"m sorry, Dustin. I tried to stop them from interrupting," Steve sighed.

"I don't care! Will likes me back!" Dustin giggled.

"Jonathan and Nancy already know about me so we're good," Will said.

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me that you like Dustin, Will," Jonathan said in amusement.

"Surprise," Will said sheepishly.

Jonathan laughed and backed out of the bathroom, closing it.

"Okay, now we can talk about you being in love with me and Jonathan," Nancy said.

"WHAT?!" they heard Dustin yell.

"I told you," Steve said to Robin. "He's got the hearing of a bat."

WILL

They were close to destroying Vecna, so close to tracking him down and waking Max up. Will was tired and angry. . .Dart appearing again made something snap within him. It wasn't Dart's fault, he knew that but it was hard not to think about how he came into this world. Dustin wanted to bring him back to the station and Will snapped. He yelled at Dustin because he didn't understand what it meant to have that thing in his throat. When he explained, Dustin looked at him with wide tearful eyes.

"I - I never, I never thought about it like that," Dustin said, looking ashamed.

"Because I never told you. I never talked about it," Will said. "I still couldn't believe that you kept him."

"I just wanted something good to come from something bad and we wouldn't have made it out of the tunnels if it hadn't been for him," Dustin said.

"I'm not mad at you for having a good heart and something good did come out of it. He did save your life and I'm so happy he did that," Will said. "But can't you understand how hard it is for me to be around him?"

"Well, I can now," Dustin said. "Shit, I'm sorry. . .I'm a shitty boyfriend."

"No, you're not," Will said softly. "You're the best boyfriend."

"I should stop calling him our son, though," Dustin said.

"Don't you dare," Will sniffled. "Because it's true. . .he does have the best of both of us. Maybe he found his way to you because of our friendship. This relationship came out of hellfire, too. Bad things happened in this town but I'm still going to live here until I choose to move on at the right time. This is still my home. I'll get used to it, I guess. I mean, Dart and all the other demogorgons had been under Creel's control, now we have an army of our own. It was all because Dart imprinted on the both of us."

"We shouldn't have to get used to be traumatized all the time," Dustin said and frowned. "But I see your point. . .bad things happen all the time, and I guess we should try to adjust."

"I think it's your point, actually," Will said and paused.

Will tucked a curly strand of hair behind Dustin's ear. Dustin grinned suddenly as he took off his hat and placed it backward onto Will's head. Will laughed.

"Well, not nearly as dashing as it is on me but still pretty handsome," Dustin said and growled.

Will laughed again and bent down to kiss him in the middle of the empty studio.

"OH MY GOD!"

Mike, Lucas, El, Robin, and Steve stood in the entryway.

"Uh, Dustin was drowning and Will was trying to save him!" Robin exclaimed quickly.

"Really, that's the best you could come up with?" Steve asked. "Where's the water, Robin?"

"The demogorgon's out of the bag, anyway," Dustin said. "But thanks for trying, Robin."

"When?" Mike asked.

"A couple of weeks ago," Dustin said. "But I've had a crush on Will for forever. I thought I had been obvious about it."

"Well you weren't!" Mike exclaimed.

"Well, it's not my fault that you have bad eyesight, Michael," Dustin said.

"You are cute," El beamed. "I like it. I am happy for both of you."

"Thanks, El," Will said, hugging his sister.

"You're wearing your boyfriend's hat," El said and giggled. "That's cute."

"Isn't it?" Will said, giggling with El.

"Yeah, we're happy for you, too, man," Lucas said.

"Yeah, you both deserve it," Mike said, smiling.

"Thanks, Mike and Lucas," Will said.

Suddenly, there came a loud banging sound. Dart burst into the room with Jonathan, Nancy, Joyce, and Hopper chasing after him. He bounded over to Dustin and Will, nudging his hand under Dustin's.

"Sorry, he got away from us," Jonathan said, breathing heavily.

"No, it's fine," Will said.

Dart looked - can he see? - in Will's direction. It seemed like he wanted to come closer but he seemed hesitant. Maybe because he sensed Will's hesitation. Will took a deep breath and moved closer to Dart. He can do this. He touched his head, gently patting it. It wasn't as gross as he thought it would be and he couldn't help but giggle when Dart leaned into his touch. He just hoped that the Demogorgon didn't stand up. Sure, they could reach him now but standing up he was like eight feet tall would be difficult and here he was acting like he was a puppy.

"Aw, he likes his other Daddy," Dustin said.

"Are you going to be one of those couples?" Mike asked.

"Excuse me, it's different considering how Dart, uh, came into this world," Dustin said.

"How did Dart come into this world?" Joyce asked with a frown.

"I thought she knew," Dustin said, looking guilty.

"I honestly thought it was a dream or rather a nightmare," Will replied.

"Will?" Jonathan asked.

"I sort of, uh, gave birth to Dart," Will said.

"You did what?!" Joyce and Jonathan asked.

It all sounded so ridiculous that Will couldn't help but burst into laughter.

DUSTIN

It was finally over! Eddie was alive, Vecna's victims hadn't been dead, and Max was awake. Everyone was still scattered all over Hawkins, including his boyfriend. Dustin was at the hospital, though, running to get to Eddie in a secluded hospital room that was guarded by Owens' men. Dustin had skidded into the room, beaming at the sight of Eddie, his arm around Chrissy.

"Holy shit!" Dustin yelled and he burst into tears.

"Henderson!" Eddie yelled.

He jumped out of the bed and met Dustin halfway into a tight hug.

"I fucking missed you, man," Dustin sobbed.

"Oh, hey, I'm here now," Eddie said.

"It's been absolute hell without you," Dustin sniffled.

"Sorry for scarring you, man, I didn't think how it would affect you when I died," Eddie said.

"Well, I'm traumatized for life," Dustin sighed. "But you're here and that's the only thing that matters. . .are you really a vampire?"

Eddie laughed and pulled back, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Fully fledged," he said, flashing his fangs and then he frowned. "Okay, it's weirding me out, man, I don't think I've ever seen you without a hat."

"Oh, I gave it to my boyfriend for good luck," Dustin said. "He took our son with him, too. He needed extra backup since he was going with El to help take down Vecna. I'm surprised you didn't see him."

"Yeah, I was busy flying around trying to find Chrissy after breaking free from Vecna's - what was it - oh, yeah - mind soup world," Eddie replied. "The next thing I know, I'm being escorted here with Chrissy - wait, boyfriend?! Okay, when I was alive, you were with a girl named Suzie or was that just a cover?"

"No, everything with Suzie had been real. We broke up, you were dead, and then my feelings for Will came back," Dustin said.

"Oh, shit, Will Byers! I should have known!" Eddie exclaimed. "You talked about him all the time."

"Yeah, I was obvious but not obvious enough," Dustin laughed.

"Did I miss anything else? Did you finally learn to knock before entering a room?" Eddie asked.

"Is that a problem he had?" Chrissy asked in amusement.

"Hell yeah it was!" Eddie scoffed.

"I actually have learned my lesson, and I have your uncle to thank for that," Dustin groaned.

"How so?" Eddie asked curiously.

"Well, after you died, I had to be the one to tell him, and it was hard for both of us when I gave him your necklace," Dustin said.

"Shit," Eddie sighed. "Is he - I mean, he's not - ,"

"He's around here somewhere," Dustin said. "He's alive. Anyway, my mother invited him to stay with us for a while and it kind of became a permanent thing."

"I'm glad you guys were there for you," Eddie said.

"He was there for us, too," Dustin said and then sighed. "He was there for my mother a little bit more than he was for me, though."

"What the hell does that mean?" Eddie asked.

"I think I know," Chrissy giggled.

"Yeah, so, I walked into my mother's room and there was your uncle. . .ugh, I'll never get the image of his bare ass bouncing as he fucked my mother!" Dustin shrieked and pressed his thumbs to his eyes.

"What?!" Eddie shrieked. "He - your mother - oh great, now it's in my brain! Get it out! Get it out! Chrissy!"

"I, uh, don't know how to help you with this one, babe," Chrissy laughed.

"Chrissy! It's not a laughing matter!" Eddie yelled.

After a while, Will burst into the room and Dustin beamed. He threw himself into Will's arms, wrapping his arms around his waist. He pressed his face to Will's chest, breathing in his scent. Even though, he smelled disgusting, his familiar scent still lingered.

"Oh, I was looking all over you and then I heard that Eddie was alive," Will said. "I figured you would be here."

"I"m sorry, I told them about us," Dustin sighed.

"I don't care, I'm just glad you're okay," Will said and pressed a kiss to his curls.

"Okay, well, that cute little scene definitely healed me," Eddie cackled. "Jesus, Zombie boy, you got tall."

"Isn't it great?" Dustin sighed happily.

"And I've heard you're Vampire Boy now," Will said and Eddie laughed.

"Yeah," he said and then he blinked. "Wait, Dustin, you said something earlier about having a son?!"

"Oh, yeah, a demogorgon that I raised that came from Will," Dustin said. "To make a long story short."

"The gates were about to close, and I couldn't find you in time. I had to send Dart back through," Will said.

"Well, as long as he's safe even if he is in the Upside Down and we can never see him again," Dustin said. "Next time we have a kid, let's make sure he can stay in this dimension."

"Deal," Will laughed. "I still can't believe we won."

"Well, we couldn't have done it without a little. . .willpower," Dustin giggled. "Get it?"

"You're so cute," Will laughed and kissed him.

"You better not fuck this up, Henderson, he laughs at your stupid jokes," Eddie said.

"It's because he understands what humor is, Munson," Dustin replied.

Dustin turned from Eddie and kissed Will again. They won. They fucking won. Though he could have gotten through this without being with Will, it certainly did make things better and everything brighter.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 20 - Enlightened

The rogue has questions.

On AO3.

She’s choking. Not on something; this is a desperate, strangled sound, likely because the intruders are above her. The one holding the rope Astarion knifes first. The man—smells of cave and something like dust and that odd, almost leather his struggling leader is now wearing—gasps as the blade punches through a lung.

His gasp turns to a gurgle as Astarion’s other dagger finds his throat and opens it down to the bone.

Before that one can fall, he’s on the second. Leaves one knife still stick in the first man’s ribcage. His fingers find a flailing arm. He drives his left dagger up, under that arm, to puncture a vein and rip into a second pair of lungs as well. And then, because this is likely some form of thinking creature and he can still scent that maddening woman, Astarion wrenches this one close and bites hard on the neck.

His target sputters something, but then hot blood spurts to the back of Astarion’s throat. His unseeing eyes roll back and he loses himself a moment. Some time later, glutted and gasping, and he finds himself crouched over the warm but dead target.

“Darling?” he says.

She coughs and retches. Has been doing that a while, he realizes.

Hers is the only heart beating. He gives the closes body a swift pat down, finds the length of slim, silken rope leading to the edge of a small crevasse. They must have snared her.

He scrabbles down. Lands in a loose rockslide next to her. She’s on her knees, still making awful sounds. Being noosed will do that, even to someone who doesn’t need to breathe.

He finds her pack, wrenches it open, and digs around until he finds smooth glass. He’s not sure what kind of potions she has, exactly. He certainly hadn’t been the first person brought to that half-mad little shit with the knife. Gods know what she looted as he lay healing.

“Drink,” he says, using the simplest verb form (which makes it rather a rude command).

She reaches out and taps one of the bottles in his grasp. Tries to take it. But he doesn’t let her. Dangling from the neck hurts like the hells. And even being undead, that sort of thing revives dim instincts of living that overrule things like thoughts.

He uncorks what he assumes she was clever enough to choose, a healing potion, and hands it over. As he thought, her hands shake so hard she nearly drops it. Has to take small, careful sips, making unhappy noises as she swallows.

So as soon as she finishes that, he says, “Which one Chondathan?”

He almost expects her to argue. Save them for some “true” emergency or some such nonsense. But she is a practical sort (when she’s not infiltrating a fish cult trying to murder him, only hours after seeing a memory of his abandoning her to her death). And they need to talk.

She downs that one slowly at first, before gulping the rest.

“Jesus fuck,” she says and only half of that translates (her people swear so charmingly).

“What happened?” he says as she picks herself up.

“Dunno. Got my water, was heading back. Then it was like walking into a spider web, but face first, and then the web turned into a fucking noose.”

He finds said noose on the ground. Smooth and cool and well made. Feels almost like…silk.

And a horrible thought occurs to him.

The man said something as Astarion drained him. Gurgled, actually. And his blood had smelled similar to that lingering on the carnage field they’d discovered. Plus, he’s gotten a feel of the man’s armor as he tore that throat out, and it felt exactly like the strange leather he’d altered for his hardy leader.

“Darling,” he says. “Those elves you found. The dead ones you looted. What did they look like?”

“Elves,” she says, like it’s obvious. “Pointy ears, pale hair. Them statues was maybe a couple inches shorter’n us?”

“I meant what color were they?”

She pauses. Then, slowly, “Y’know, that kinda question has some real nasty implications where I’m from.”

Which makes absolutely no sense, so he flails a hand about to speed her along.

She sighs. “I really hope this ain’t a race thing. They was kinda purple, I think? Gray-ish?”

He was right to be exasperated. “And you didn’t think to mention that part?”

“Karlach is red. Lae’zel is green. I bet you was eggshell pale even when you did have a pulse.”

He was, actually. With a silver undertone, even.

“There aren’t any purple elves, darling. Not out on the surface, anyway.”

He has the distinct impression she stares at him, flat and unamused. “And I’d know that how?”

She’s from a different plane and can’t even tell the difference between a gnome and a halfling (even he struggles now and then—at least the taller races have the good graces to have more pronounced distinguishing features; one isn’t going to mistake a human for an elf).

He rubs a hand over his face. It feels wet. Why…right. He’s not a terribly fastidious eater in battle.

“Take us up there, then,” he says.

So she does. She’s moving faster than before. He wonders if the healing potion did anything for whatever symptoms she’s having. The blood scent only thickens, though. And then he wonders if she took anything after she insisted he feed from her, because they lose blood during all of this, and if she was traipsing about with blood loss of top of all that…

But that makes him feel bizarre again, and he has to redirect his thoughts.

“Do these ones look like those others?” he says after they make their way over to his kills. It’d be easier if she just let him use her eyes, but after what he let slip last time…and her feeble, human sight is horrifying. She’s spent her entire life running about half-blinded, the poor thing.

She shifts. Scuffs a boot against the ground. And he knows she’s going to say—

“Yeah?”

“Gods below,” he mutters. And fine, yes, she wouldn’t have known the difference. And fine, yes, he should have wondered which was more likely: a band of sun elves prancing about the Underdark, or his companion not recognizing, “Those are called drow, darling.”

“The fuck’s a drow?”

“That’s a long answer, but the simple version is a group of dark elves who live in the Underdark.”

“…so a type of elf.”

“I wouldn’t ever say that to any other elf you meet. They’ll take it as a rather serious insult.”

She makes a low sound. It’s usually accompanied by an eye roll, her throwing up her hands, or some version of I hate this realm.

“Do I wanna know why, or is this gonna be another stupid racism?”

The last word translates…oddly. He’ll think about that later.

“They’ve a reputation,” he says. “Mostly for abject cruelty, manipulation, scheming, and murdering. That sort of thing. It’s rare to come across one that doesn’t at least try to stab you in the back once or twice.”

“Is that a generalization? Cause generalizations fall into ‘stupid racism’ more often than not.”

He nudges the nearest body with his foot. It flops. Then he kneels down to trace the chest plate down to the clasps on the side and get to work freeing it. “I’ve only met a handful myself, and every one of them tried to kill me. Even when I was at my most charming.”

Next the shoulder clasp. This is the one he drained. He’d noticed they were of similar height and build, which was unusual for a drow, but oh. A chance to wear drow armor? He’ll not pass that up. It’s a literal tragedy he doesn’t have the sight to admire himself in it.

“I notice you said ‘other elves,’” his intrepid leader says. She has a talent for wringing her words utterly dry. “I take it that don’t mean you?”

The last shoulder unbuckles like it’s been waiting for him. Astarion tugs the armor free of the now-cooling corpse. Yes, this is going to fit him beautifully. “A people known for murder and backstabbing? Darling, I’d be flattered.”

“Shouldn’t even be surprised,” she mutters.

Still. They’ve run into two groups of drow down here. Which means that this must be a highly trafficked area. And for all he admires the deep elves, they hold a historical hatred for his kind. And they’d likely kill his leader sooner than speak to her.

“I suggest you grab anything you can and we get well clear of here,” he says. “Best be long gone before any others turn up.”

[ashroseblack]

you're wings are beautiful to us

*note this is the canon and cass apocalyptic series mixed together so future donnie leo raph and mikey are here with them and ash has memorys of the other timeline her so she is technically there lover as well as the canon boy's so canon cass ua and yes ash is the boy's lover has been for five years now she has six and she's finding out this that she and her nimpo can do*

draxum'spov 

i watch as ash sit's on her knees as she reads the runes that are needed for this it has been two weeks sense they went back to the other timeline and ash and i have been working on her nimpo witch is dark based she can make things she makes real she makes a gun she can make it real so now sense she uses her nimpo to make wings to fly in the past now she knows how to make them real we are going to try and do it as pain free for her as possible but i do not know how much i can take off of her but im going to try for her's and the boy's sake plus i do not want to die Donatello would kill me both of them so now i sit here and watch her 

ash'spov

okay done i hum as i turn to draxum he nods and walks over and stands where he needed to and told me to sit in the middle and i do i sit on my knees again and focused my nimpo on my wings then realty them both i felt my nimpo connect to reality and then my back i felt my nerves connect to the ones in my wings then i felt nothing but hot white pain i screamed loud and hard tears ran down my face as i screamed 

no onespov

draxum watch in horror as ash's skin ripped open and her wings melt into it blood poured like water as it melted together with her skin and healed itself ash fell foreword and her chest hit the floor as she cried and calmed down her wings where a beautiful black with blue purple red and orange actant feathers(ash stands at 4'3 in our world but in there's she stands at 5'5 like vary short 5'5) they where about 6 feat long and 4 and a half feat wide they where bigger then her draxum walked over trying to comfort her she looked at him and let him clean the blood up and then tend to her wings and back as she calmed down 

two days later 

ash'spov 

it's been two days and draxum gave me the clear to fly again so now im walking into the training room taking my jacket and spread my wings and let them beat against the wind as i fly like a graceful butterfly around and around i go as i pick up the pace draxum came in and looked up and said something but i did not hear him so i slowed down so i could what did you say draxum? i asked as my wings beat against the wind as i lower myself untill im a foot off the floor then stay there as he talked the boy's are back ash and they want to know where you are he said as i nodded and my wings  pushed me forward towards the room the boy's where in draxum walked in first the i saw baby leo or i call him leon with a knife wound and i lost it my wings picked me up and throw me towards leon right past Donnie raph and mikey all six looked shocked but right now im to worked up to say a thing my wings dropped me to my knees next to leon and i look at the knife wound and sigh as i use my nimpo to sew him up and wrap his wounds as i do this my wings have fallen to the floor with me and now lay like a cape or a blanket behind me as i sit on my knees next to leon 

ash do you know you have wings? mikey or mike asks me i hum and nod the best i can at that moment and raph squeaks and i look up at him and i can see the awe and shock in them as i turn to the others i smile a bit the stand my wings moving with me then moving to wrap loosely around me to keep the warmth of the room in and the cold of outside out even though i like the cold right now did not seem like the time to give them heart attacks, i can do a lot more then i could when you left now so this is one of the things that i can undo but it will be bloody and painful just ask draxum he helped me with the whole thing and helped clean up the blood well my blood where i rested and healed now im back to 100% and can do anything and everything but right now any questions? i hum donnie walks over and walks around me before nodding no i do not but i do love the purple feathers he smirked at me as he said that and i smiled and nodded good to know anyone else? raph speaks yeah can you feel them like can you feel if they where touched? he asks i nod i can i hum they are a part of me just like my arm or my leg raph nods so does red(older raph) i look at mikey and mike(older mikey like in his 20's)a smile as he looks like he is happy don looks like he thinking but i will not know what untill he talks to me i hum as my wing spread and beat against the wind as they push me off the ground and into the air about a foot don looks at me as i did i nod to him and let my wings beat the air as i fly off to don's lab there is my lab donnie's lab and then don's(older donnie)leo(older leo) helps leon up and to bed as i fly into don's lab and let my feet hit the floor and my wings fall back around me like a blanket as don walks in and stares at them i look at the floor as he pulls my eyes up and looks at them before picking me up himself letting my wings move so he can hold me without hurting my wings or back now they lay over his arm as he holds me and smiles a smirk so i was right you are an angel he hums as he sit's down caesy walks in hey uncle tello aunt A   he hums as he climes don battle shell and sit's i smile and nod off into the sleep i haven't got sense they left with a smile 

hey okay this popped into my head a few hours ago so here have it all 1197 words love                                                                                                                                                                                                          A   

[eternalhyruleau]

The Undying Love of a Wandering Traveler Act I

This is a tale I'm SURE you've heard before...

That of a hero protecting his maiden...

Not this particular story, but ones in its vein.

Veins...

That's the word...

The name of network of blue flowing through bodies, pumping blood and giving life to hearts that love...

Just like the flow of time...

Allow me to begin...

They had come.

The time-displaced had arrived...

ACT 1: FOR THEIR LOVE WAS INSTANT

A flash... That's all Sparrow remembered before he was ripped away from his land... And into the endless jaws of somewhere new... Somewhere here and now... Not then... Not in that cursed land with no time...

"W-What...?" He asked himself aloud. He looked around and round, but couldn't find anyone else...

Until he saw her.

The maiden, dressed in white...

LOVE dressed in white...

For a moment, the most magical of moments since time first kissed the universe, they stared. The maiden stared longingly into the traveler's beautiful, gray eyes, and the traveler did the same into her shining ice blue eyes that were filled with love and fear.

"I am being hunted." The trembling maiden spoke. Her voice rang pure, like the bell of the Tower of the Gods...

Not knowing who she was being relentlessly pursued by, he asked the question that would affect the rest of his life... "Who by?"

"M-Majora..." Yes... There it was (it was there) the stutter of fear... The name of death... Majora...

What? You think I'm talking about the mask?

No.

Not Majora the Mask.

Majora the Monster.

Majora the Devourer

Majora the Bored.

Majora the Hungry.

Majora the...

"Dead." The traveler spoke. "He should be dead. I made him dance for three days and three nights with my drum..." He sets said drum down. Beside him, he sits it. Not between them.

"Y-You did?" Thus spoke maiden dressed in white.

Traveler speaks. "That cunning bastard... Made me take pity on him. Must have thought the beat of my drum would put him to a peaceful sleep..." A smirk appears on the traveler's face. "But that thing was wrong... It killed him. he probably didn't realize it until the second night of not stopping, at least... I guess he hungers for more humans..." Traveler puts his hand out, slowly.

Maiden does the same. For a moment of magic, of now, of forever, of eternity, their hands meet. His big, calloused hand touches her delicate, small one.

"And now he wants to eat you...?" His voice was barely above a whisper, for she was love incarnate in front of him, standing in their world of their love.

The maiden gasped softly, as the traveler gently touched the side of her face. "Yes. He does."

"I have a feather which turns to a knife, my strength, and most importantly..." He leans in...

And he kisses her. Gently... Slowly... As slow as a heartbeat before the last breath...

"My love for you, maiden of maidens..."

The traveler sits. The maiden, his everything, sits beside him. He takes his cloak off and wraps it around her trembling, scared shoulders.

"Rest now. I'll keep watch for Majora."

Funny, Majora thought a feast is what he'd get tonight, but only the wrath of a protector...

Traveler plays his drum, soothing her to sleep. Not death, like with Majora, just sleep...

[sunshincwitch]

A Very Bad New Years for Chamomile

Chamomile woke to the baying of wolves outside her window, growls and barks rending the normally peaceful quiet of the deep woods she calls her home. She has grown accustomed to the sounds of wolves, to the point it’s almost a comfort, knowing they are out there running. Even with August and the curse affecting his turns he doesn’t scare her. But through all the research she has been doing she can’t find it in herself to be afraid of them. Her lack of fear rooted in the self-loathing that tells her she would deserve to be ripped apart by a wolf if the situation presents itself. But as more and more howls fill the air an undercurrent of anger and pain becomes clear, and she realizes it’s not just one or two wolves like she was used to but a whole pack. 

Carefully extricating herself from her piles of blankets and pillows she is careful not to wake anyone else as she quietly pads down the cold wooden steps. Fur flashes in the moonlight, and her heart runs cold. It’s not the fact that they are wolves, it’s the number and the fact that she recognizes these wolves, wolves that she knows are dead and that plague her sleep with nightmares. She stumbles slightly on the stairs, slipping down a step, a sliver of wood slicing deep into her hand as she catches herself on the railing. 

Cursing her clumsiness and still wondering at the apparitions circling her home she enters her kitchen, fumbling for her first aid kit and muttering an incantation that lights the fire in the old iron stove so she can boil water. She doesn’t notice the man sitting in the shadows clinging to the edges of the room, his dark form another mainstay in her nightmares. She’s so focused on removing the shard of wood from her hand that it isn’t until he stirs, and his voice breaks through the sound of the wolves that she notices and whips around, her injured hand forgotten. 

“What are you doing here Anathema” dead for nearly 10 years and still her fathers voice cuts through her like wind of a hurricaine through an unsuspecting garden. The wolves are suddenly terribly far away, and right beside her all at once. Their pain, their anger swelling around her as she locks eyes with her father, a man she knows for a fact is dead, a man who’s lifeblood she felt spill over her own hands, bloody knife still buried in his neck, cutting down farther and farther as he tried to scream incantations to save himself. A man who’s body she had watched burn as she waited to see if her mother or any of her siblings would appear to stop her. “Playing house in the woods, pretending to be a harmless little hedge witch with a soft spot for rabid dogs. We bred you better than this, raised you for more than this. When your mother-”

Cham felt the pull of power in her blood, the beating of her heart battling with the howling of the wolves and drowning out all rational thought until all she feels is rage. Rage fueled by the pain of the wolves outside, and the years of being kept in the dark and under her parents controlling direction. The pain of knowing that nothing in her life was her own choice, nothing really until she put that knife to her fathers neck, the atheme that she had buried behind her house the first night in Port Liery. At the mention of her mother all that rage came pouring out, her uninjured hand slamming down on the rough table, rot and decay spiderwebbing out from her palm, the wood crumbling and pitting, weathering like it has been left to the elements for years. “No.” She leaves no room for argument, “I was a CHILD! Even if you never saw me as one. I was not a prize pig to take to the faire, I was a CHILD and this-” she gestures wildly to the wolves outside, ghosts of the pack her family destroyed while she unwittingly played along as they used her magic, her power as their own personal bank? Of energy? “Has haunted me every day since. Making me complicit in their pain, using my magic for this much death, is that really what you envisioned when you set out to continue the family line in another string of sevens?” 

Other witches may see a visit from the dead as an omen, a gift from the beyond, a once in a lifetime chance to speak with their departed family. Chamomile was wondering who she pissed off, who had cursed her with this visit. She had no regret in killing her father, and seeing him didn’t bring up any anguish or hurt feelings that she had done it. If anything it just made her want to repeat the actions. “The only reason you have your power is because of myself and your mother, the sacrifices we made and the workings we poured our power into. You were born indebted to us, owing us for the birthright you were gifted. It was our right to do whatever we needed with your power, you are simply a tool, an extension of our line. Taking strength from you to put down a few mangy dogs was a minor thing, and don’t think just because you are hiding out here in this shack that the family is done with you,” he continued talking, but the witch stopped listening. Bustling through the kitchen she gathered the things she knew would banish a spirit, the ingredients to create wards that would push her fathers ghost from her home. She wasn’t interested in what her family felt they were owed, she thought she had made that clear when she killed her father and burned the family home to the ground but apparently not. 

The fact that he didn't pause, or seem remotely afraid of the fact that she was beginning a working should have given her pause, made her question. But she continued on, and made it through the entire drawing of her runic circle, and set the spell off. But his form did not waver. The wolves outside did not quiet. And Chamomile realized that she was in for a much longer night than she wanted. She did not offer him any other words, did not waste that breath on him, just poured all her energy into banishing his ghost, no matter how many attempts it took.

[imapuppy5000]

Prions backstory part two: Athena

Orion kicked his legs as he threw himself into an open garbage bin. It had been two or three years since his mother had abandoned him. He resented her for it but it was nice to be away from his older siblings. He didn’t get beat nearly as often. He had a box in an alleyway where he lived and a few items he kept there. A change of clothes, a toothbrush, and a few torn up blankets. He also had a box cutter he used as a knife to defend himself and steal from others. Currently he was scavenging for food. He had recently stumbled upon a compound of sorts and they always threw away plenty of good table scraps and even whole dishes so he was a frequent flier to their dumpster.

He growled in delight as he bit down on some kind of bird leg and ripped off the flesh, making happy little grunts as he ate. He nibbled on the bone contently as he searched for more and was quick to throw it away in favor of some corn and a piece of bread. A shadow looked over him and before he could react there was a large hand gripping his scuff and yanking him away from the food. He was a decent size despite his age so he was fairly surprised to be lifted with such ease. He wiggled around until his box cutter was in hand and swiped at his captor, snarling with rage.

Another much too large hand gripped his weapon wielding hand and twisted in painfully until he yelped and dropped the box cutter, tail tucking in fear now that he was defenseless and in the air. Eyes that looked almost exactly like his met his and he paused. Taking note of her grey skin and darker mask. She looked like a more human version of him. Though obviously the differences were still noticeable and probably much more pronounced then the similarities.

She bore a frown as she examined him in turn before finally she spoke, “Why do you keep digging through my garbage?”

“I’m hungry.” He growled, crossing his arms as he hung there, “An’ you throw away perfectly good food.” He spat at her feet and noticed, despite her casual outfit and the way her hair was down, she still wore sharp steeled shoes. They looked dangerous. He instantly regretted spitting at her and her deadly glare forced a whimper from him. Terrifying.

“Do you know who I am?” She snarled.

“A scary lady?”

“I am the overlord of this part of the city.” His heart stopped, “And you continuously disrespect me. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slit your throat and use your fur as a mat?”

Orion scrambled. The overlord of this part peddled weapons, right? Given her weaponinated shoes he had to assume he was correct. “I can be useful!” He rushed, holding out his paws. “I can help! Whatever you need.”

She looked over his scrawny, half starved form and raised an eyebrow.

“I swear it! Give me a chance, or let me go and I’ll never come back and bother you again.”

After some consideration she nodded and set him down, he was about to take off before she said coldly. “I’ll give you a week. Show me you can be useful and I’ll let you live. You’ll get housing and food until then but you will not be paid. Understand?”

The mutt stiffened into a salute and nodded, “Ma’am! Just show me where you need me.” Housing and food was already far better then what he had now.

She nodded, locked her hands behind her back and walked off. She had long strides and he struggled to keep up with her but he didn’t complain. “Tell me.” She muttered, “What’s a hellhound like you doing up here?”

“My ma ‘bandoned me. Left me here right before the extermination a few years back. But I survived.” He growled a little and added firmly, “And I’ve survived since.”

“Clearly.”

Fair. That was a stupid thing to say but he was proud he had made it this long on his own. Eventually he was shown to a small room with a twin sized bed and a dresser. He hesitated outside of the room.

“What’s the matter? Never seen a room before?”

“I- no not one this nice.” He stuttered. “Is that mine? What about my roommates?”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The room is all your own during your stay.”

“Oh.” When he didn’t enter even still she put a hand on his back and led him inside. “Get some sleep. Work starts at 5 am sharp. You’ll be packing and loading boxes. You will get a break for lunch, 12 to 1 and then you work until your job is complete.”

He nodded firmly and crawled into bed, circling on the bedsheets before curling up tightly on a pillow.

He heard a chuckle and looked up to see the overlord smiling just slightly. She quickly adjusted back to a frown and left the room, closing the door and turning off the lights as she went.

“Orion!” A voice boomed, bringing the hell hound out of his thoughts. He was lifted into the air and shook like a rag doll before he was set back down.

He heard his boss chuckle and gave her a little glare as he tried to steady himself. Firm paws were holding his shoulders which did help that a bit. He turned back to the one responsible for his dizziness and grinned. “Athena. Pleasure to see you.”

“Don’t be so formal!” The larger dog, a dark grey with broad muzzle and large paws, released him to slap his back. He stumbled forward a bit. “Come on, let’s get Carmilla to Zestial so we can catch up. I assume that’s why you're here, right ma’am?” Athena asked as she turned her attention to the weapons dealer.

“Yes. That’s why I am here.”

Athena nodded and waved them along. Telling a short imp to run ahead and warn Zestial of their guest. The overlord only had about 5 employees at his disposal. The rest hadn’t lasted long for… various reasons. There were spider webs in the corners and over lights but Orion knew they weren’t to be touched much less cleaned.

Zestial met the group as they traveled along a long dark hallway, materializing from the shadows. He nodded and shooed the guards away before opening his arms to greet Carmilla.

Orion turned to give them their privacy and heard them walking away, Zestial’s skittering and Carmilla’s metallic tapping fading as they got further away.

Him and Athena made their way to the kitchen in silence and she made them both a cup of hot tea, pretty much all Zestial had to drink was various types of hot tea.

“So.” Athena said leadingly as she swirled her tea around. “Why the frowny face?”

“What frowny face?” Orion asked, caught off guard.

“Please. You’re all outta sorts and you have the biggest frown I’ve ever seen!”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?”

“Of course you are. And I don’t have a frowny face so get whatever’s in that big head of yours and throw it in the trash.”

“Please. There’s no one else here. I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings but please talk to me. I won’t tell, you know that.” Her paw rested on his clenched hand, covering his knuckles, and she gave him her stupid puppy dog eyes that always made him melt.

“It’s nothing.” He said, pulling his hand away roughly. “Just had that dream again. The one about the extermination.”

“Ooh.” She nodded sagely and pointed at him, “You’re still embarrassed you peed yourself?”

“What?!” He snarled, hackles bristling, “No!”

She laughed and he frowned but settled down, “I know. I just love to see you get like that.” She chuckled, waving off his anger with a brilliant smile. “But really. I know how much that dream messed you up. Must’ve been terrifying the first time and having to keep reliving it must suck. I’m lucky to have never gone through one on my own— much less come face to face with an exorcist!”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I thought I was hiding my anxiety better though.”

“Nope. Sorry bud but you’re an open book. What with that frown and your tucked tail I’m surprised you were trying to hide it!”

He growled at her meekly and she boomed out a laugh, hitting her thigh. “Come on man! You can’t be that dense! You must’ve known you were showing!”

“I didn’t! I thought I was hiding it better! And I’m always frowning. How can you tell that this one was different?!” He stood up, paws clutching the table as his friend howled with laughter at his expense.

“F—k dude! You’re a riot!” She cackled, wiping a tear from her eye.

He glared at her, indignant and thoroughly humiliated. His fur was hot and ears back. “Stop laughing. I’m being serious.”

Her laughter faded a bit, and when she caught the look on his face it died all together. “Chill, man. I’m only poking. I don’t mean it.”

He sat back down as she grabbed his hand again.

“I won’t do it again. Listen, you are easy to read but that’s usually just for those of us that know you. No one outside of us will be able to tell you’re anxious and they certainly won’t be able to use that to their advantage. You look more scary when you’re on guard so they won’t want to test you. It’s okay. Just cause it’s easy for me and Carmilla to read you doesn’t mean it’s easy for anyone else. Just keep that tail in check and you’ll be fine.”

Orion nodded stiffly and looked away. “How are you?”

“Wow. Changing topics with all the elegance of a train crash.” She sighed and leaned back, taking her paw with her. “I’m good. Been busy lately but Zestial doesn’t really need a guard with how everyone acts when they see him. Been wanderin round town. Exploring…” she made a face, her ears flicking.

“What else?” Orion pried, knowing she was hiding something. “What’s so secretive?”

“Not secretive as much as embarrassing. I visited that happy hotel we heard about on the news.”

“Seriously?” He sneered.

“Yeah. The princess was real nice and the place was quaint. If I were a sinner and not a hell borne I’d like to stay. Get redeemed an all.”

“You wish to go to heaven?”

Athena fidgeted nervously with her cup and sipped the tea to stall for time. “Yeah… I do. I think it’d be nice. I’d like to just… relax. Not have to worry about anything I have to worry about now.”

“Heavens a monster! They send down maniacs to kill us just because they’re afraid.”

“Well they shouldn’t be targeting us.” She muttered.

“But they do. They kill anyone in their path. I was lucky that exorcist saw me as too pathetic to kill. Probably figured I would die soon anyways and didn’t wanna waste their time on me.”

The hound sighed and lowered her head. “I knew you’d react like this. But I want you to come by. Just to see what she’s trying to do and give her your support. She’s trying to save us from future exterminations. That should be enough to get you to see her.”

He huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at her until those darn puppy eyes met his again and he crumbled. Sighing he muttered, “On my day off I’ll go see her. No guarantees I’ll help or say anything nice though.”

“Thank you, Orion. I appreciate it. And I’m sure she will too.”

[star4daisy]

Beg

29/09, 530, @rosekiller-microfic

tw: blood, knife, slight nsfw

"Beg," Evan demanded with a cruel smirk on his lips.

Barty scoffed in disbelief, "Only in your wildest dreams, love."

Evan took a step closer to him, pressing the knife deeper into Barty's throat, "I said beg," he whispered against his lips, eyes widening in anger and darkening in lust. "Beg for your life and I might take pity on you."

Barty couldn't help the laugh that came from deep within his throat, "Do it, I dare you. I've got nothing to lose," he pressed his lips against Evan's with force, trying to claw his way inside of him. 

Evan did not let out. 

Their teeth clashed as strongly as the knife digging deeper and breaking the skin. Barty hissed from the pain, Evan only stepped away enough to run his mouth over it until he reached the wound and pressed his lips against it, sucking the blood into his mouth like it was the god's drink.

Barty groaned as Evan shoved his body harder into the wall, his head hitting it with a reverberating sound. He felt lightheaded, his breathing turning shallow as he got the weird sense of having been dreaming all along.

His feet barely touched the ground as his soul floated over their bodies, trying to rip his way inside of Evan. 

To feast on his spirit with the beastly hunger that could only come from love.

Barty wanted to rip his throat open with his teeth and bathe in his blood. He imagined Evan felt something akin to it considering he kept pushing the knife in and Barty's blood kept flowing into his mouth in a futile attempt to feed the beast. 

He'd give it his all if it meant Evan would be satisfied. Fulfilled.

"Is this how you imagined it would be, love?"

Evan shuddered in pleasure against his throat, raising his head just enough for Barty to see his blown-wide pupils swallowing all the blue that had ever remained there. His half-open mouth dripping with Barty's blood.

He wasted no time grabbing his head and kissing him harshly, sucking the delicious metallic liquid into his own mouth as he moaned around Evan's tongue. 

"It's so much better," he grumbled over Barty's mouth, resting his forehead against his as they tried to even out their breathing.

Barty laughed deliriously, "You don't want me to beg for my life anymore?"

Evan's smile was even crueller, "Oh, no, sweetheart," his voice was mocking. "That ship has sailed. I'm killing you no matter what you say now." 

His eyes were a contrast to his words. They held so much wonder as he caressed Barty's cheek with bloody fingers. Amazement. He looked like he'd never seen anyone quite like Barty before. "You taste like nothing I ever felt before," he admitted. "It would be a sacrilege to waste even the smallest drop."

Barty’s heart skipped a beat. So be it. If it was the price for encountering the most magnificent cruel creature on earth, he’d gladly offer his life in exchange for being able to admire as Evan ripped him of everything that made him who he was. 

As Evan feasted on Barty’s blood and claimed his soul.

[repairingtomorrow]

Amélie Lacroix - Call Sign: Widowmaker (Origin Story)

(This one is a little dark, so fair warning. Let me know if I need to tag anything)

To Master List

I was created as a weapon. My heart rate slowed so I could be as still as death when I snipe. My emotions were taken so I do not waver. But I feel so much more was stolen from me. I try to think, to remember what I had before. But all I can remember was waking up in the laboratory. That is, until Poland.

I was sent out to Poland to prevent Overwatch from retrieving the scientists we held hostage, and they had a team on the ground to rescue them. They didn't make it easy, but killing them satisfied me so much. With the help of my visor, they couldn't escape from me. One. Two. Three down. With each kill, my heart raced faster and faster, and I almost felt human again. I was lining a shot on Strike Commander Morrison when a bullet flew past my head, narrowly avoiding me. I swung my scope towards the direction of the shot.

Ana Amari...the world's greatest sniper at the time. She wanted a duel? I'll give her what she wants. I let loose a shot at her and she jumped down to avoid it. I sneered and changed positions with my grapple. The ground team tried to shoot me to distract me, but I ignored them. My opponent tried to shoot back when I ducked. We chased each other in a game of cat and mouse. My heart was rapidly beating; it was throwing my aim.

Amari eventually shot my visor, causing it to crack and put pressure on my face. I ripped it off and threw the remains of it to the side. I was dazed, and I braced for the follow up shot to come. But it didn't. I noticed she looked shocked. "Amélie?" Ana said, and I froze as well. The name sounded familiar. Like remnants of a past life. I shook off my shock quickly, not wanting to ponder it too much in the moment. I lined up my shot and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced her scope, then went straight through to her right eye. She let out a scream as she fell off the building. I smiled, a sense of satisfaction warming my cold body.

On my earpiece, I was told the hostages were saved. The voice was disappointed, but I did not care. "I have something better. Ana Amari is dead." The dropship came by and I stepped onto it, then sat down on one of the seats. My handler sat next to me, and I did not look at him. "Did I hear you correctly? You killed the Ana Amari?" I nodded. He sat up and had a satisfied look on his face. "The higher-ups will be pleased to hear that." I did not respond, thinking about what she had said. Amélie? That had to be me, since she saw my face and recognized me. I sighed, not really understanding what was going on. And I didn't want to think about it anymore, but that was not an option.

Ever since I went back to the base after my encounter with Amari, I've been dreaming of memories from my past life. Glimpses of a stage, and I'm dancing in front of a captivated audience. I look up to a man on the balcony and we locked eyes. I felt love, but also something else. Guilt for something that hasn't yet happened. Another night, it would be a wedding. I was wearing an elegant princess styled dress and the man was my groom, wearing a slick tuxedo, and we held hands as we were wed. Every night was a different memory, until one day.

This dream was not like the others. It was a nightmare, and I dread it every night. I wake up in the middle of the night and I look over to my husband, who was sound asleep. Out of my control, I stand up and walk to the kitchen. I find our knife block, and take out the biggest one there. I feel numb as I march back robotically, armed with the knife. I stand over him. I feel as if I'm watching from a different perspective, like it's not me doing this. I hold the knife over his neck, and in one clean movement, I slit his neck. He wakes up, but it doesn't last long as he chokes to death on his own blood. Unfazed, I lay back down next to him and fall asleep.

I wake up but I'm still dreaming. I stretch and yawn like nothing happened. I look over to wake my husband, but he is dead. "Gérard!" I would cry out, trying to shake him awake. Of course, it would not work. I see that I'm covered in his blood, and I start screaming and crying. "What happened? What have I done?" I panicked and fell off the bed, unable to stand back up. Talon soldiers come into my bedroom, covering my mouth to muffle my screams. Then, everything fades to black.

I've gone to Doctor O'Deorain to try to remove these memories. She supposedly cleared them from my mind, but it didn't work. Even in my waking hours, they haunt me. I feel guilt when I'm not supposed to. How am I supposed to be the world's greatest sniper if I feel remorseful after every kill? I'm trapped between the life I lost and the world I'm supposed to be in now.

So I play pretend to survive this cruel reality I'm living in. And I just need to find the chance to break free.

(Thank you for reading! Reblogs are appreciated.)