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addledmongoose · 4 months ago

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Best of 2024 Good Omens Fanfiction

Welcome to my list of the best Good Omens fanfiction I’ve read in 2024! These are my favorites of all the novels, short stories, and series I’ve read this year, and they’re the ones I have or am most likely to read more than once. There’s so much amazing talent in the Good Omens fandom, and I will never be able to read every great story, but I’m happy to have found these fantastic works. (FYI, I added up the word counts of all the stories on this list, and it’s over three million!)

First of all, if you haven’t read the stories on my 2023 Best Of list, be sure to check out the amazing works there. There are a lot of older classics, like Or Be Nice, Slow Show, and Pray For Us, Icarus and some stories written after season two released, like Factory Setting and Married At First Sight.

Secondly, here is the entire list of every recommendation I’ve made in 2024. There are far more great stories than can fit in a single year-end list. I’ll be unpinning that list and pinning up a new one next year.

Last year, I was able to split my list up more evenly into canon adjacent/compliant and human AU. This year, I read a wider variety of stories, many of them quite long, and more series. I’m splitting the list into three categories: canon, human AU, and non-human AU. There's no order or ranking to the list; they were mostly just added as I read them.

There are also no WIPs here; all of the stories are complete. The series are also complete at the time of this list or are a series of standalone shorts that don't need to be read in order. My preferences lean toward funnier, lighter stories and are often heavy on plot. If you’re looking for dark stories with a lot of angst, you won’t find as many here as other blogs might recommend. It’s not that some of these don’t have dark, sad moments or moments of angst, but Aziraphale and Crowley must have a happy ending, and I prefer stories that don’t make me cry or cause a lot of stress.

If you like these stories, don’t forget to leave kudos and comments for the authors!

If you hit that "Keep reading" button, strap in! This is a very, very long post.

Canon

They’re still angel and demon. I’m counting Reverse Omens in this category.

The Seventh Prince of Hell (56K; Rated M) by @evilasiangenius

Reverse Omens. This is actually part of a series, but I’ve only read the first book, so I’m not listing it as a series. Aziraphale is the Seventh Prince of Hell. His animal aspect is the octopus. Crowley is an ordinary angel. Both are assigned to Earth. They have adventures!

Genesis 3:(-7)-5.5 -7 And they assembled all the Lords, the Princes of Hell into a congregation together sometime after the seventh day, but not on a day of rest because even the Dark Council has a day off. -6 When it came to pass that all grew weary of the powerful pointing presentations, Lord Beelzebub spake with a loud voice, saying unto them, One of uzz brotherzz muzzt go to Earth as Hell’s Represzentative and thwart the doings of Heaven; there izz no choice now that the Almighty has created humanzz. Who amongzt uzz shall take up the project? It comezz with a great deal of extra paperwork, much travel, and no overtime pay. And we shall not reimbursze anything and there shall be no per diem. [...] -3 And of the seven Princes of Hell, three stepped forward, and only three; not two nor five, which are the other prime numbers near three and definitely not one, which is not a prime at all but the unit. The first was the Second Prince, who is called Asmodeus and is a demon of lust. The second was the Seventh Prince, who is called Aziraphale and is a demon of collecting stuff. And the third was the Fourth Prince, who is not worth talking about because they only appear in this one scene and for no other reason than to have three characters. I think that Prince is the demon of executive dysfunction or erectile dysfunction or something like that. Maybe both.

***

Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt (series) (117K; Rated T/E) by @e-rated-beardo

A three-part, post-s2 series with gorgeous art by the author. Part I is Crowley’s POV as he deals with the loss of his angel. Part II is from Aziraphale’s POV as he tries to stop the Second Coming and deal with the loss of his demon. Part III is the thrilling finale (and the happy ending). Expect a lot of angst but great characters and plot.

It was a shit day. All the days had been shit, and there had been rather a shitload of them so far. Tucked away in a disused corner of a car park in a retail park in Croydon, a lanky man cracked his eyes open and scowled out the side window of his car. There were raindrops hitting the glass and clouds massing towards the eastern horizon suggested a storm was on its way. He had slept uncomfortably across the front seats for a good amount of time (it didn’t much matter what exact amount), and despite the car being a vintage and exceptionally attractive specimen, nobody had paid it much mind—and the few people who had had the idea to come over and have a look at the ostensibly abandoned vehicle had all suddenly realised how much they actually needed to go buy a sofa or something at that Ikea over there, right about now, in fact. Untangling his various limbs, the man in the car—who wasn’t exactly a man, as such, but close enough for government work—reluctantly sat up, his boot brushing against one of the empty bottles on the floor. He had neglected to sober up before going to sleep.

***

Too Hot for Heavenly Handling (2.4K; Rated E) by @hollybennett123

Crowley says yes to returning to Heaven. The two enjoy three fornication-fueled weeks before they’re hauled before the Metatron and the other archangels for a disciplinary hearing. Rating-aside, there’s not any actual sex in this story. It’s implicit; not explicit.

I’ve read this story more times than I can count (ok, it’s seven). I nearly choked the first time I read it, because I was laughing so hard. Every sentence is a gem. The timing of the jokes is impeccable. There’s not a single bad line in this entire piece.

“No angel shall pretend to be of a lower status than their actual ranking,” Aziraphale reads aloud. “What does that have to do with — ohhh,” he says, wide-eyed, remembering their ongoing little roleplay. Crowley, an angel of the lowest ranking in their little game, seeking favour from an Archangel; offering to service him in secret so he might earn a series of Heavenly promotions. It had been jolly good fun, actually. “Misuse of Heavenly furniture,” the Metatron continues. “One count. Again, the actual number is unknown. Quite frankly, no one here is willing to research it further to gather any more evidence than the minimum required to bring you before this Council.” Looking back, Aziraphale’s desk has seen quite a bit of action in recent weeks. And the chair. The walls, too, if they count.

***

Aziraphale’s Diaries (series) (11K; Rated T) by @fellshish

A series of standalone fics written as Aziraphale’s diary entries. They don’t need to be read in any order. All of them are fantastic, but I probably laughed the hardest at “Adventures of a mystery shopper in the bookshop.” Aziraphale decides Crowley must be bored after the Nomageddon and in need of work and decides to ��let” him take care of his bookshop while he’s away, but then he worries the demon might sell some of his books.

29 August 2018 I’ve informed Crowley I’ll be going away for about three weeks, to perform an exciting and complicated blessing abroad. In reality, I’ve booked the Ritz for myself, where I’ll be forced to act human and eat breakfasts, lunches and dinners. Anything to keep a close eye on Crowley! 30th August 2018 It’s my first day away. I decided to go by the bookshop in an “old and confused man disguise” so I could look through the window. I was just in time (a three hour window between lunch and afternoon tea at the Ritz) to see him read the letter I’d posted a few days ago so it would arrive just as I’d left. It was cleverly addressed “To the owner or the current guardian of this bookshop”. I used all my knowledge of humans, gathered via the cleverest of ways (a lot of reading), to write it.

***

A Special Place In Hell (50K; Rated T) by @hotcrosspigeon and @mirach

When Adam shifted reality and caused Satan to disappear, the nearest supernatural entity became the new King of Hell. As it so happened, a certain angel was standing just a little closer than his demon.

Aziraphale, while not Falling, becomes the new ruler of Hell and must navigate Hellish politics, find a role for the love of his life, and maybe bring some proper tea time to the infernal realm. I stumbled upon this story purely by accident one night, and it was a pure joy to read. It’s one of those stories I wish was a series, because I could read so much more in this world.

"Hello, Crowley, my dear fellow. I would like to discuss a certain issue with you. You see, I somehow got into a very peculiar predicament..." Aziraphale sighed in frustration, pacing in his bookshop. "No no no, that sounds like I got my hand stuck in the sweets vending machine again." He cleared his throat. "Hey Crowley, what's up? Better sit down because I have some news to tell you... And by some news I mean... errr..." The angel groaned. "Oh Heavens, there's just no proper way to say this. Ugh, come on, Aziraphale, buck up! You just need to get to the point, that's all. Say the things as they are. No going in circles around the matter. Nice and accurate, right. Just tell him..." He turned at the sound of the bookshop doorbell. "Hello Crowley! Nice weather, isn't it?" "Wha..?" Crowley raised an incredulous eyebrow over the top of his sunglasses, a drop of water running along the edge of his nose. His red hair was plastered to his forehead. He turned to look out the window, jerking a thumb at the onslaught of vicious hail and rain that pelted the glass and plinked against the pane. "Oh, ha ha , very funny. It's bloody bucketing down, angel! I legged it in here before I got clonked on the head with a hailstone the size of my fist." He stopped and frowned at the angel in concern. "Er... you all right? You're looking a bit peaky."

***

Flowers From Hell (42K; Rated T) by @entanglednow

Crowley creates a hybrid demon flower that turns out to be a little more than he intended. This was such a sweet, beautiful story of found family and love, and you’ll absolutely fall in love with Ivy and want to do everything to protect him.

There's a low, quiet rustle from the atrium, where Crowley keeps his finest plants. The beautiful and often terrified rows of them are always so tall and glossy, and fantastically well maintained. Aziraphale regrets that he hadn't taken more of an interest in Crowley's hobbies. It wouldn't have been too difficult, he imagines, to seek out rare specimens to offer the demon. When he's been given so many long sought after volumes, and unpublished manuscripts in turn. Perhaps he could encourage Crowley to open up more, with a few well thought out questions pertaining to his plants, and their various needs. He knows Crowley has been absorbed in a special project recently, he'll make a point to ask about it today. Aziraphale heads into the stretch of greenery, following the tap of feet on tiles, and the quiet swish of foliage. He catches a flash of red hair at the end of the room, behind a messy spray of deep green leaves, then another flash, of what might be the long, pale curve of a shoulder. "Crowley?" The whole room smells damp, thick with fresh soil and crushed plant matter, and it grows stronger the deeper in Aziraphale ventures. He's sure the room wasn't quite so large before, it's clearly been expanded since he visited last, a deep bed of soil is now packed at the back of the room. "Crowley." Aziraphale eases a large spray of damp leaves aside. "I hope I'm not too early, I was -" Crowley is standing by the far wall, carefully touching the valley in the middle of a large leaf with curious, repetitive motions. He's also quite naked. It's - it's unexpected to say the least.

***

Time Marches Forward (129K; Rated M) by @bellisima-writes

While Aziraphale is in Heaven trying to thwart the Second Coming, Crowley is trying to help a frightened 15-year-old Adam learn to deal with his powers. I consider this the definitive S3 (even having written a post-S2 myself), regardless of what the upcoming finale gives us. Every character is wonderfully fleshed out. The plot is intriguing. I read it as fast as humanly possible, barely stopping to do anything else.

Crowley felt the air in the Bentley shift slightly. “What are you doing here?” Crowley jumped in shock, hitting his head on the roof of the Bentley so hard his sunglasses fell off. Adam was suddenly in the passenger seat, studying him cautiously. “Hey! You can’t just come into my car, uninvited,” Crowley hissed, grabbing his glasses and placing them back on his face. He realized he was still slouching, making Adam appear much bigger than he was. He sat up straight and crossed his arms in an attempt to look more intimidating and less drunk. He wondered if it was wise to try and glower at the Antichrist. “He can, actually,” Pepper said from the back seat. Crowley turned and snarled as he noted the three other teenagers in his car. Wensleydale and Brian sat beside her. “He can do anything.” “Yeah well, that may be so but that doesn’t make it right. Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should,” he looked Adam directly in the eyes as he said this, assuming no one else around him would ever be so blunt. “What are you doing lurking around my house?” Adam asked again plainly. Crowley’s glowering was not working. “Ngk. I didn’t come to see you, if that’s what you're asking. I’m as shocked as you are to find myself here. I was asleep for a few days. The bloody car did it; blame it for the lurking”

***

The Last Angel (162K; Rated E) by @bellisima-writes

Crowley's been Hell's Grand Inquisitor for millennia now. Ever since the Apocalypse, he's managed to carve out a relatively cushy life for himself. Hell won the War, Angels were essentially eradicated and all human souls were Satan's. Everything was fine. Until one day he hears a rumor that the Last Angel in the universe was finally captured. Until Beelzebub is suddenly ordering him to get information from said Angel, information that's critical for Hell's survival. Until the moment he first locks eyes with the last Angel, and everything he's ever known starts to crumble around him.

I can’t come up with a better description than the summary. Much like the author’s previous work, Time Marches Forward, this is plot-heavy, exciting, action-packed, and gorgeous. The characters are detailed and realistic. The plot sings. And you won’t see the surprise until it’s already there.

“What kinds of rumors?” he asked, shifting in his seat to properly face Eric. Words were one thing, but body language was another. As Grand Inquisitor, Crowley learned early on to weigh both when evaluating information shared by a source whose reliability was questionable. Eric was a nice kid, sure. But their reliability would definitely be categorized as questionable . Eric’s mood shifted as they glanced around the corridor. Crowley hadn’t realized how quiet the cells had gotten. The bloody humans were eavesdropping again. He dug deep and pulled up a hiss so loud and laced with demonic power that it rattled every cell door in the entire block. Eric motioned with their hand for Crowley to follow them into a corner and out of earshot of everyone else. As Crowley pulled himself up and started walking he sent searing looks down each row of cells around him. They were all going to have a talk about this later. “What?” he asked when he got close enough to Eric. Still eyeing the cells behind them, Eric leaned in closer and whispered, “Hastur finally found him."

Crowley shook his head. Eric’s shiftiness was starting to annoy him. “Found who?” “The one who killed Ligur. Crowley, Hastur’s finally captured the last Angel.”

***

Kidnapping A Supreme Archangel For Fun And Profit (series) (31K; Rated T) by @waitingtobebroken

Mostly outsider POV. Four short stories told mostly from the points of view of Agiel, the Supreme Archangel’s assistant, and Kric (Eric with a K), the Grand Duke’s assistant as they try to figure out why the Supreme Archangel is so unworried about all the times he’s getting himself kidnapped by the Grand Duke. In the meantime, the two assistants find that maybe they have more in common than they would have expected, being hereditary enemies and all.

Being Lord Beelzebub's demonic assistant had been easier than overseeing the third circle of Hell. Just stay out of the way, don't make eye contact, not that Kric could, having been blessed with a distinct lack of eyes, and do not talk to the Prince of Hell, unless it was a 'Yes, Your Highness' or... No, that was pretty much it. You did not go around saying "No" to Lord Beelzebub. And of course, just as they had finally grown comfortable in their position, had even found the perfect time to ask for an assistant of their own... There had been a change in leadership. And Kric had found themself serving Crowley. The Original Tempter, the Snake of Eden, the Earth Walker. Kric was not impressed. Flash bastard. And suddenly, they were expected to be in the throne room at all times. To answer when addressed. Proper, actual answer. None of that automatic 'Yes, your Highness' they were so used to. The first time His Rottenness had held up two sashes, before the monthly meeting between Heaven and Hell and had asked which one made his scales look more iridescent and Kric had answered in the only way they knew how... Well, let's just say that hadn't gone well. They had been sent to something called Fashion Week. To better their understanding of clothes and colour theory, something they could sense had been invented by a fellow demon. Lord Crowley, most probably, judging by the way His Wickedness had grinned when he had told them that.

*****

Human AU

Fully human characters. No supernatural/magical elements.

Waking Up Slow (88K; Rated E) by @themoonmothwrites

After both being exposed to covid, strangers Crowley and Aziraphale wait out their isolation together (there’s only one bed!) at a cottage by the sea. This is complete cosycore fluff with just a touch of angst (and a happy ending) near the end. This gorgeous story has stuck with me for so long. If you want something that’s just plain pleasurable to read, this is it.

“Lovely view.” The voice was low, with the slightest hint of gravel, and right next to Aziraphale’s ear. He made an undignified noise and spun round in fright. “Where the devil did you-?” he started, high-voiced, before his foot caught on a stone and he lost his balance. The stranger was standing so close that Aziraphale toppled right into him, and the pair of them went down together in a tangle of knees and a solid thunk to the forehead. “Ow,” the man said, squinting up at Aziraphale, gaze unfocused, before his eyes fell closed. “Oh no!” Aziraphale breathed. “Oh dear. What do I-?” He’d left his blasted phone at the cottage, now of all times when he actually needed it! With an unconscious man lying before him! And it was all Aziraphale’s doing! “I can-- I can-- I know what to do!” he told himself, attempting belatedly not to panic. The best thing to do was not to think too hard. Tipping up the stranger’s chin, Aziraphale pinched his nose and lowered his face until his mouth closed over the other man’s.

***

The Prince’s Consort (142K; Rated E) by @ineffable-toreshi

Aziraphale is the crown prince of a fictional nation. Crowley is a Lily, trained in one of Lucien’s brothels and kept a virgin for the eventual sale to a wealthy master. Against the brothel owner’s wishes, Crowley is purchased by the prince’s adviser, Gabriel, as a companion for Prince Aziraphale. Aziraphale didn’t want a purchased mate, however, and decides to court his new consort the old-fashioned way.

The description makes this sound like a darker story than it is; it’s actually a really sweet story with only one bad guy (and it’s not Gabriel).

I wrote a much longer review here if you’d like more details.

“I...I was just wondering, my Lord,” Anthony said, nervously nibbling on his lip and twisting his fingers in his lap. “Why did you choose me ?” Gabriel cocked his head to the side. He leaned back, reclining with his arms thrown up over the edges of the bench, and seemed to think about the question. By the time he finally opened his mouth to answer, Anthony was practically vibrating with curiosity. “There were a few factors,” he explained thoughtfully. “I’ll admit that your appearance was the first and foremost. I prefer women, myself, but I know beauty in a man when I see it. And I’ve seen the types who’ve caught the prince’s eye over the years. I’m quite confident that he will find you more than pleasing, from an aesthetic standpoint.”

***

Keep Digging (7K; Rated T) by Appleseeds

After panicking and losing his nerve trying to ask out Aziraphale, the co-worker Crowley has an enormous crush on, he tells a little white lie that ends up completely spiralling out of control since he can't seem to stop digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole. Now he's obtained plans to help him break into a school, inadvertently funded the purchase of explosives, and, knowing his luck, the fake blood will end up permanently staining the tiles. Who knows though, maybe in the end, it'll all turn out to be worth it.

Another one of those stories that are so funny tears stream down my face every time. Even going back through it to find an excerpt had me choking down laughter.

“I actually used to be a music tutor. That was one of the little jokes I liked to tell.” Aziraphale giggled again. Nhhhhh. “Wish you could tutor me…” Crowley muttered under his breath. “Oh! Are you wanting to learn to play a musical instrument?” Aziraphale asked brightly. Crowley’s eyes widened. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. Of course, he wouldn’t have heard it if Crowley had just kept his big mouth shut. “Um. Yeah.” “Wonderful! Which one?” FUCK. How the hell was Crowley supposed to answer that? Whatever he said, he might end up having to get one of said instrument, and he didn’t know much, but he knew musical instruments could be incredibly expensive. There must be something that would be cheap enough to procure if needs be, right? And with that thought, Crowley responded. “The triangle.” Oh Jesus Christ.

***

Temple of the Muses (241K; Rated E) by @ajconstantine

It’s the start of the Season in 1841 Victorian England. Mr Anthony Crowley has left a life of working at a luxurious high end bordello in Paris behind him and is now a courtesan intent on climbing the social ladder in London to increase his status and social connections. After unexpectedly inheriting the title of the Earl of Eastgate, Aziraphale finds himself trying to navigate the complicated world of the aristocracy. Duke Gabriel purchases a month-long contract with Mr Crowley for Lord Fell as a surprise gift to Aziraphale’s astonishment and dismay. He declines to take full advantage of Crowley’s charms but agrees to an arrangement of pretending to be Crowley’s paramour in exchange for lessons on the etiquette and expectations of Society. It’s a practical arrangement, nothing more. Certainly no feelings will be involved...

One of the best, most well-researched stories I’ve read. The historical elements are fascinating, and the world-building is top notch. Set in an alternate 1841 where there’s no stigma on same sex relationships, but same sex marriage is still not allowed. The story alternates between the present time, with Aziraphale and Crowley navigating their growing relationship, and Crowley’s time being trained at one of the most elite bordellos of Paris.

Crowley has a lot of autonomy in this story. He actively chose to become a sex worker. Once he leaves the bordello and becomes a courtesan, he can refuse to sign with a client. And while there are consequences for breaking a contract, a courtesan can walk away from a troublesome client.

“Exactly what position do you think I was hired for?” Crowley interrupted, pulling the shoulder of his robe back up. The Earl looked at him as if he’d asked a ridiculous question. “Valet, of course.” Crowley barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Duke Haven didn’t tell you about me?” The Earl pursed his lips, tilting his head in puzzlement. “Not you precisely. I was at his house last week, and he chastised me when I mentioned that I didn’t have a valet, insisting I needed one even though…” His eyes widened. “Oh no. What… what did you think you were being hired for?” Struck by the absurdity of it all, Crowley fought the strong urge to laugh outright. Instead, he gave the Earl a roguish grin and bowed with a flourish. “Mr Anthony Crowley, at your service, sir. Duke Haven procured a contract for me to be your... courtesan.” Lord Fell's mouth dropped open as he gaped at him in apparent shock. “You— I—” He floundered, at a loss for words as he looked away from Crowley. His eyes landed on the bed. To Crowley’s growing amusement, the Early actually blushed, red staining his cheeks as he swiftly averted his gaze.

***

#RAINBOWROAD (series) (407K; Rated T/E) by @nieded

If you haven’t heard of this one yet, you’re one of today’s lucky 10,000. This is one of the best, most well-written human AUs that anyone has produced for Good Omens (or really, of any romance). It’s a three-book, three-short series set in the world of Formula 1 racing. You heard that right. You don’t need to know anything about F1 racing. You don’t even need to like F1 racing. You just need to want to read one of the best romances ever written to enjoy this series.

Ezira Phale is a rookie F1 driver. AJ Crowley is an F1 veteran and an idol of the 25-year-old racer. Everything changes when Ezira meets and falls in love with Crowley, and the older driver (by about 10 years; there’s not a massive age difference here) seems to return his feelings. I wrote a very long review of the series here, so I won’t go into a ton of detail again except to say, if you love human AU, this should be on your list. The author adds notes at the end of the chapters explaining some of the more technical aspects of the sport, or talking about some of the real racers, and it’s fascinating.

Ezira makes his escape from the after-party after stealing a handful of fig tartlets from the hors d’oeuvres table. He ducks out the service exit before looping back to the front of the hotel. God, he wants to sleep off his tipsiness. It’s significantly cooler at night, and he wraps his arms around his shoulders before slipping inside, making a dash for the elevator. Punching his floor number, he leans against the wall and closes his eyes, waiting to be taken to his floor. Then the elevator jerks as someone jabs their hand between the sliding doors, forcing it back open. Ezira lifts his head and glares at the newcomer before his eyes widen, flushing when he recognizes the red hair and black Renault polo. AJ Crowley throws himself into the opposite corner of the elevator and pulls the brim of his hat down. He turns to look at Ezira from under his cap. "Tough luck out there today, huh?" he asks. Ezira frowns and blinks. And because he’s a little drunk and high on adrenaline, he says, "Didn’t you place seventh? I thought that was fucking brilliant." This earns him a snort, and then a bit of stifled laughter. "You can’t say fuck." "You say fuck in almost every interview you do." Not that Ezira has watched every single post-debrief involving AJ Crowley. This makes Crowley laugh harder, and he wipes at his eyes. "You just look like you should be in a painting or something. You’re like a Hummel." Flabbergasted, Ezira stares. His cheeks grow hot when he realizes AJ Crowley is taking the piss. "I don’t even know what that means." Crowley wipes his eye with the back of his hand and then presses his lips together in a feeble attempt to hold back another fit of laughter. "I’m sorry. I’m just very, very drunk, and was not expecting you to say ‘fuck.’ You look like those cherubs from Italy."

***

Lunacy (57K; Rated E) by @snae-b

@snae-b writes some of the best sci-fi GO stories you’ll ever read. This is hardly the only great story of theirs I’ve recommended; it just happens to be my personal favorite. Crowley is the crew chief of a mining operation on one of Pluto’s tiny moons. Aziraphale is a geologist there to study the structural integrity of the moon. But something seems to be alive, something that shouldn’t be there. This is pure psychological horror, the kind of story where you’re never quite sure what’s real and what’s a hallucination. You’ll find definitely NSFW artwork throughout, so take note not to read it around people you wouldn’t want seeing porn on your screen.

Crowley zones out as they continue their conversation. Things had been weird in the mine today. For the past month really. Tech malfunctioning. Batteries draining when they should have been able to hold a charge for days. Half the lights were on the fritz. As if it weren't dark enough in there already. He'd had to trek nearly a mile into Sheol with only the lights on his helmet to repair them. And his crew had their hands full with extraction, so he’d had to do it alone. The darkness really starts to play tricks on you in there. He spent as much time looking over his shoulder as he did working on the lights. Kept thinking that he was seeing something. Something hiding in the shadows. Something that lived in his peripheral vision. As he tugs a beanie on over his head there’s a light rapping on the wall and everyone glances up to the figure in the doorway. “Excuse me, Mr. Crowley. If you have time in your schedule, I really need to discuss the most recent surface scans with you. Could you come by my quarters before dinner?” Crowley sighs as he snaps on his mag boots. “Yeah. Sure thing doc. I’ll be by in thirty.” The scientist only nods before he disappears down the hall. Dr. Aziraphale Fell. He doesn’t wear the standard issue jumpsuits. He wears thick sweaters and wool trousers that look ridiculous with his mag boots. And when he isn’t wearing them, he can hardly get around. Bumps into everything and everyone. He’s never been off planet before and it shows.

***

Miracles on Ice (131K; Rated E) by @henriettarhippo

It’s the “Blades of Glory” AU you never knew you wanted. Crowley and Aziraphale are men’s figure skaters who get banned from the sport after a fight on the podium. Years later, Aziraphale’s coach, Gabriel, suggests the two of them team up to compete in the Olympic’s pairs event. Only problem is, the two skaters hate each other.

This is very much an enemies-to-lovers story, and Gabriel as their coach and sponsor is the perfect combination of asshole and good guy. He genuinely does care for his two skaters, and he’s generous with his money, but he also has that rich guy attitude of being used to getting what he wants, and he’s not afraid to tell them to stop being dumbasses either.

“Hey angel, was that your routine? Because it looked to me like a lot of swanning about on the ice with a few pirouettes thrown in.” The mocking drawl came from the figure making his way towards Aziraphale on a pair of sharp blades. Clad in skintight black velvet trousers and a black turtleneck adorned with glittering red crystals—to match the striking red curls that stopped at his shoulders—Aziraphale’s skating rival Crowley beamed down at him with a malicious grin. “Also, you’re a bit late. They handed out the women’s medals earlier today.” He pulled down the dark shades he always wore to give Aziraphale a wink. Aziraphale bristled and sat up straighter. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. That was textbook precision, and I think you’ll find it was the same scores I beat you with last year in Oslo.” “The hotel had a free bar I don’t even remember Oslo,” Crowley said dismissively as he approached the entrance to the rink. He turned back and gave Aziraphale a grin. “But I do remember Boston, and that victory was almost as sweet as the look on your face when you botched that triple loop.” Crowley let out a laugh at the scandalised look Aziraphale gave him. The loudspeakers started up with the first booming notes of a rock song and Crowley hopped up onto the ice and skated away from him before Aziraphale had the chance to reply.

***

Friends Don't (33K; Rated E) by @missunderstoodlyrics

Human AU. Another fantastic enemies-to-lovers by MissUnderstoodLyrics. This is the newest story on this list.

Aziraphale and Crowley are rival advice columnists whose companies are merged. The CEO, Gabriel, tells them they now have to do a joint video podcast together. The snark and bickerflirting are top notch, and this story kept a smile on my face. They have to keep their romance a secret, because the whole schtick of their podcast is their very public rivalry, but it gets harder and harder the closer they become.

Aziraphale attempted to drown his mirth in his wine glass, which was precisely when Crowley decided to position his mouth millimetres from the angel’s ear. “Blair. Have you met him? Worst. Comb-over. Since. Thatcher,” he whispered and then found himself helpfully patting Aziraphale's back as the man choked and spluttered, his cherubic face turning a delightful shade of pink. “Absolute fiend,” Aziraphale managed once he’d caught his breath, but the corners of his mouth were twitching traitorously. Crowley clocked Michaela out of the corner of his eye; she was leaning forward to shush them. Aziraphale escaped her wrath by standing and marching to the stage, his back straight and shoulders squared. He planted himself solidly in front of the microphone and proceeded to destroy what was left of Crowley’s sanity. “I once met a man-shaped snake,” he stated, his gaze firmly locked on Crowley. “Whose snark was taxing to take With swagger and pose He turned up his nose But his wisdom was rather half-baked.”

*****

Non-Human AU

One or both of them are non-human, or have some sort of supernatural abilities (like magic) but aren’t angel or demon. I’m including omegaverse in this category.

Mark of the Serpent (150K; Rated E) by @naromoreau and @summerofspock

Prince Aziraphale is about to be crowned King of Angelhaven when he's taken captive by pirates. When he's sold as a pleasure slave to King Crowley, ruler of the nation readying for war with his, he is forced to keep his identity a secret as he tries to find a way home and keep peace. But not everything at King Crowley's court is as it seems and Aziraphale will have to face machinations of a Royal Court that are far more complex than he had thought. A Captive Prince AU with an omegaverse twist.

The first omegaverse story I genuinely liked, even though Crowley is pretty awful toward Aziraphale at first. Since then I’ve come to enjoy more of them, but this is the one that got me into the genre. This is another one I’ve written a much longer review about here including an explanation for the “extremely dubious consent” tag.

"What about this one?" the omega king asked, eyes fixed on his face, a strange curl to his mouth. "He's an Angel," Hastur sneered. "Pretty, isn't he? We were trying to pick a variety for your majesty to choose from since you didn’t deign to accompany us, but we didn’t find out his origin until after we brought him. He probably doesn't even speak the language." The words manifested in Aziraphale’s mind, and he immediately saw the genius in them. If he didn't speak the language, he could hardly be appealing as a consort to the king. He would be dismissed, sent back to Tracy's, and given time to heal before making his escape. "An Angel?" the king repeated, something passing over his face that Aziraphale didn't like. "What's your name?" "I’m sorry," Aziraphale stammered in Angelic, sticking to his hastily made plan. "I don’t...I don’t know what you're saying." King Crowley smiled and said, in perfect Angelic, "I asked what your name was." "Oh, um, I- you can call me whatever you wish," Aziraphale said, not wanting to risk even a part of his name. The king laughed. "I'm choosing the Angel. Send him to my quarters." "But your majesty-" The omega king turned on Ligur. "You wanted me to choose a pleasure beta and I did. It's done. Were there any other highly important council matters or can I get back to my day?"

***

Saltwater on Skin (186K; Rated E) by @candyqueenblog

Another one with a longer review here. Ezra Fell is an award-winning novelist celebrating the millionth sale of his newest books with his friends and baby brother, Gabriel, on a rented yacht. He falls overboard and washes ashore on an uncharted island, and while awaiting rescue, he gets the strange feeling he’s not alone.

This is a low angst love story between the human and the naga who rescues him, and you’ll fall in love with the island and Crowley’s four sisters. Gabriel is a peach here, much younger than Ezra and very much the caring baby brother.

And if you’d prefer an Ineffable Wives version of the story, you can find that here. I haven’t read it, but I assume it’s equally good.

Ezra couldn’t stifle the flood of tears as he threw his arms over his head with a scream. Then a pair of rough, but blessedly human hands, covered his wrists. “You… scared?” The stranger’s voice was gravelly, most likely from disuse, but to Ezra it sounded more beautiful than all the angelic choirs. He sobbed in relief. “Oh thank heavens! I thought for sure I was going to-” His words sputtered and died when he opened his eyes to look at his rescuer. It was a man… ...from the waist up. The man’s bare torso was thin, but well defined with long arms lean with muscle. His face was all angles framed by a shock of red hair that curled down his back. His eyes were captivating. They were human enough, save for the iris being the color of spun gold and sliced right down the middle by a slit-shaped pupil. That was about where the human similarities ended. From the waist down the man’s skin melded into a massive snake tail that was wider than Ezra’s entire body and covered in black scales with a red underbelly that matched his hair.

***

FAETED (series) (251K; Rated G/T) by @ineffably-good

The only story in this category that’s not rated E. A three-book, one-short series where Ezra, an English teacher at a public school accidentally ends up in the Fae realms and in the hands of the Unseelie king, Crowley. The world-building is fantastic, and the books use some of the side characters so well, especially Hastur and Ligur, two of Crowley’s most trusted advisers. Crowley is good to Ezra, but he’s spent a thousand years ruling over the chaotic and dangerous unseelie fae, and he doesn’t always know how to handle being in love with a human. And Ezra doesn’t understand the difficult and often prickly politics of the fae, so the two have a lot of misunderstandings to work through. It leads to several fights, but they are usually resolved within the chapter.

The stories are heavy on plot, mostly around the world of the fae, which is one of the things I love most about this series. I could easily read dozens of books set in this world.

Lord Crowley watched as Ezra emerged from the coach, curious to see how this strange mortal would react to his first sight of the Dark Court. Would he blanch in terror? Would he be curious? He didn’t know or understand the creature across from him, but he knew one thing— his reactions, to date, were not what the Prince expected. This was oddly refreshing. It had been so, so long since anyone had managed to surprise him. He watched as Ezra emerged, his fluffy golden hair sticking out in all directions above the dark gray travel cloak he’d donned. He smiled faintly and with studious politeness at the horrifying gremlin who helped him down the steps, brushed the nonexistent dust off himself, and took in his surroundings. Crowley was gratified to see his eyes widen as he looked around. They were standing in the center of an immense cavern, almost as if a mountain had been hollowed out inside by an immense blast. The rock walls climbed up above them and came together at an unmeasurable distance overhead and were dotted everywhere one looked with cavernous openings, some of which flickered with the light from a fire further inside. Creatures here and there, too murky to make out fully, hovered near the openings of some of them, peering down at the return of their Prince with eyes he could not read. Further ahead, the floor cracked into a massive chasm which ranged across the rest of the cavern and was crossed here and there by rickety-looking bridges. It was lit from below by the light of flames and the scent of sulfur. Stalagmites rose from the floor at irregular intervals, some of them paired with stalactites dropping from the ceiling like large, rocky icicles. Their surfaces glittered here and there with what looked like mica or gems. Crowley watched as Ezra took all of this in at a glance. “Thoughts?” said Lord Crowley, sidling up to him. Ezra turned astonished eyes the color of blue sky to him. “It’s beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like this.” Crowley searched his face for mockery or insincerity but found only earnestness. The Prince felt a tingle of pleasure at this, at least for a moment, until he ruthlessly slammed that feeling down inside himself and returned to his usual sardonic detachment. He hadn’t brought the human here to be his friend.

***

If He’s Your Cleric, Why Is He Putting Me In His Bag of Holding? (300K; Rated E) by @noodlefrog-omens

I read this twice in a row. Literally. I stopped it and almost immediately started it again. I played D&D 3.5 for many years, and I absolutely loved seeing a D&D adventure played out in the GO universe. Aziraphale is the cleric of an adventuring party that stupidly decides to abandon him in the dungeon (you don’t abandon your healer!). Crowley is a very hungry mimic who ends up nearly dying in Aziraphale’s bag of holding before the cleric rescues him. (Look, if you’re going to look like a fancy book, don’t be surprised when the man tries to steal you).

Aziraphale still needs to find his adventuring party again, and the mimic decides to travel along with him. Along the way they find kobolds, a doppelganger, traps, and the obligate dungeon maze, all the while getting to know each other. Aziraphale recognizes his feelings toward the mimic fairly early on, but it takes Crowley longer to even understand what his feelings even mean.

The porn doesn’t start until chapter 33 (of 40), and only covers maybe three of the remaining eight chapters. You can read the entire adventure and stop once they leave the dungeon if you don’t want any monsterfuckery, or you could skim past the smut to the ending. I don’t know if the author has any plans for sequels, but if he does, I’ll be right there ready.

In that moment, Crowley knew that he had found the right bait to lure this human right to his doom. He waited as patiently as he could while nearly vibrating himself into a puddle, watching as Aziraphale puttered around the room cooing over all the books and scrolls in the room as though they were living creatures. “Just you wait,” Crowley thought to himself, inordinately pleased to have figured out what made this stubborn human tick. “One of them will be.” “There must be centuries’ worth of knowledge collected in just this one chamber,” Aziraphale said in a reverent whisper. Finally, finally he started touching things in this dungeon. He even took his heavy leather gloves off, tucking them into his belt before running a fingertip along the spines of the books chained to the shelves. Crowley watched him take one right off the shelf and thumb through a few of the pages. “We must have walked right by this room. I don’t know why Sandalphon told me there wasn’t anything behind this door. He must not have looked closely enough.” Aziraphale turned his back to the shelves to glance back at the door, and Crowley took his chance to crawl up the side of the bookshelf and arrange himself in front of the chained tomes in pride of place. It wasn’t difficult to change himself into the shape of a book, but this was always about the details. It was an art form. Which books, exactly, had Aziraphale been drawn to? Old ones with leather covers, mostly. Ones with bits of fiddly decoration on the spine. Ones with a bit of mystery. Aziraphale was a cleric, so he was probably interested in talking to the Gods and shite like that, or at least understanding them. That was an angle Crowley could work with. He gave his skin a supple leather texture, inky black and vaguely shimmery in a way he knew would catch the flickering light being thrown out by that sword. Gold edging and lettering crept across his cover and spine, promising divine secrets and cosmic mysteries to anyone who would just reach out and touch. He couldn’t see himself, but Crowley knew that he was a very sexy book right now. Aziraphale would have to be mad not to notice him.

***

Crowley And The Chocolate Factory (55K; Rated E) by @entanglednow

Crowley has to step up for his nephew Adam when he wins a ticket to tour the famous chocolate factories, run by the reclusive and deeply strange Zira Zonka. It doesn't take Crowley long to decide that he wants nothing to do with the man, who's clearly hiding dark and mysterious secrets.

Do you like your Crowley grumpy and cynical? Do you like your Aziraphale weird? Did you think the one thing missing from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory was sex between Wonka and one of the parents in a vintage Bentley? Then this is the story for you!

Crowley doesn’t know what to make of the definitely strange Zira Zonka, but he finds himself drawn to the man nonetheless. The story is set in modern times, but if you know the original (at least the movie version; I can’t speak for the books), you have a general idea of what’s going to happen to the children.

Zonka releases the arms of his partners for long enough to jerk his cane towards the sky, which erupts in a shower of flower petals and candy - a large proportion of which fall on the immediately excited crowd. Crowley's fairly certain he gets hit on the head by a soft fudge. God, this is humiliating. Zonka dances right and then left while the audience cheers in appreciation. He does another circle, separates from the row to do some unimpressive spins while trying - and failing - to find a good rhyme for liquorice. "My candy emporium has so much in store. Just step right up and walk through the door!" Zonka's gold and white cane snaps up into the air again, this time leaving a burst of light and his name written across the sky in sparkling gold calligraphy. It seems to be a dramatic ending, Crowley certainly hopes it's a dramatic ending. "Half of those lines were a stretch," he complains, but quietly and mostly to himself, because the audience seems to have found the whole thing captivating, Adam included. "And there's only five kids, not six, he can't even count." The Erik's all unlink arms, to thunderous applause from the crowd behind him, and Zonka gives the widest grin Crowley has ever seen. His hands flung on his hips, like the world's most enthusiastic children's entertainer. Crowley half expects him to ask who wants to see a magic trick. "How has this man possibly managed to stay out of the limelight for twenty years?" he wonders. "Or twenty minutes."

***

Villainous (217K; Rated E) by @ineffablepenguin

Once Upon A Time… There was a red-haired sorcerer who lived alone in a high tower, and a blond prince who lived in a palace full of people. And they were both of them desperately lonely. The Kingdoms of Empyrion and the Sorcerers of Apollyon have hated each other for hundreds of years, ever since the Great War. They do not interact, other than to occasionally try to kill one another. And they certainly do not make friends. Crow is an exhausted sorcerer who just wants everyone to leave him the hell alone: for the Sorcerer’s Council to stop harassing him to live up to his potential, and for wannabe Empyrion Heroes to stop attacking his tower to try and kill him. Until one day when he meets Prince Azra of the High Fells, who doesn’t behave anything like he’s supposed to…

This is one of those stories a lot of people recommend for good reason. It’s a fantastic fairy tale full of love and romance between two people who seem destined for one another. The writing is gorgeous, the world-building is fantastic, and there’s really great artwork scattered throughout. Some of the artwork is fairly suggestive, and all of it is stunning.

Crow slowed to a stop, and his gaze flickered bemusedly over him. The man was…not tall. Or remotely intimidating. He stood a couple inches shorter than him, even with the thick boots. Wide eyes shone resolutely grey-blue, the precise shade of his doublet, under a tumble of feathery white-blond curls cut a bit too short to be fashionable. And... his stubbornly-set jaw was rather less chiseled than Crow was used to seeing. No conveniently placed scars, no gritty dents or smudges on that immaculate armour. Heroes usually had cheekbones that could cut glass, but this one’s were rounded, and slightly rosy to boot. Cherubic was the word that came immediately to mind, and Crow nearly snorted out loud. He looked to be roughly Crow's own age, and was staring determinedly, if anxiously at him from behind that enormous broadsword. There was a long, tense silence as Crow and the armoured man sized each other up. The Hero spoke first. “Now see here, villain, I don’t want to have to kill you, so just turn about and head right back where you came from.” His voice was precise and educated, nearly fussy, and while self-assured was lacking in the usual bravado. Crow blinked, taken aback, and the flames in his hand faltered. “You don’t want to kill me?” “Well…no, not particularly.” The confidence wavered for an instant, then solidified. “Which is not to say that I won’t! Rest assured I will if you cause trouble!”

***

The Crawly Chronicles (series) (179K; Rated T/M/E) by @theladydrgn and @sylwritesstuff

When Aziraphale Fell, reporter for The Daily Messenger, is tasked with a simple story on smuggling, he isn't expecting to find out that Lightbringer, Inc. has been experimenting on something that could be an animal, an oil slick, or something else entirely. He especially isn't expecting that being to come home with him and change his entire life.

I’m a fan of the Tom Hardy Venom movies, which made this two-book, two-short series perfect for me. The books follow the plot of the first two movies, though book 2 also starts with the sexual relationship between the two characters.

My favorite parts of the story are of the two learning to live together while sharing a body, and Aziraphale trying to figure out how to handle having feelings for a creature he’s permanently attached to who is so completely alien (literally) that he’s not even sure that romantic and sexual love are even an option.

The food the human was making already smelled good enough to eat to them, and they did not want to wait twenty minutes. This time their control of the human's hand was less subtle as they dipped fingers into the leftover batter and brought a generous scoop of the chocolate mix to their mouth. “Nasty human's is what they were.” Aziraphale froze or at least tried to. His mouth seemed to have other ideas, cleaning the mixture from his fingers. “What- Who said that?” he demanded messily, looking around. “I did.” Aziraphale took several steps back, grasping for the cane he'd left leaning against the counter. The voice sounded as if it were everywhere around him or- or in his own mind somehow. “That's hardly reassuring. Who are you? How did you get into my home?” “Got in the same way you did, human.” They grabbed the bowl of chocolate mixture before the human stumbled too far from it, fingers scraping the last dregs of it to not waste a single bit. The cane fell to the floor. Aziraphale tried stopping himself, but he couldn't seem to make his hands do what he wanted them to do. “Stop! How-” What in the world was happening and how did he stop it? “No. I'm hungry.” “That doesn't make any sense! Stop!” he demanded, struggling to keep his chocolate covered fingers away from his own mouth. “Fine.” They still felt so weak that fighting this human for control was a struggle and a challenge that they did not want to have. It was just so much easier to slip out between their cells and wrap a long tongue around their fingers instead.

***

And finally, if you made it all the way to the end, thank you!

I have three Good Omens novels of my own I hope you’ll check out, a post-S2 with an upcoming sequel; a “they never met”/fake marriage adventure; and a reverse omens (a WIP as of 27 Dec, 2024; chapters are released on Fridays, and it should be completely posted around mid-February 2025).

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #best of 2024

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pynkgothicka · 11 months ago

Text

ＫｎｅｅＳｏｃｋｓＫＮＪ

Pairing - Tutor! Dark! Kim Namjoon x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis-Based off Parasite, your korean teacher leaves to go on a work study trip, and leaves you with his best friend to be a replacement teacher. Part 2 of the movies series.

Featuring - Brandon Perea (Angel From Nope)

Word Count - Around 3k

Tags and Warnings - age-gap, manipulation, murder, fingering, tutor/student relationship

Authors Note - As you can probably tell, the stories are majority very loosely based on the stories with me throwing my own twists into it all. Also Joon is a conglomerate of all the Parks (the poor family) into one character! Enjoy:3

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“So you want me to basically be your substitute?”

Namjoon eyed his friend as he ate from the bowl of ramen in front of him. One of his old high school friends, Brandon, stopped by his apartment out of the blue. And of course, Namjoon was embarrassed, the place looked like a dump.

Which is exactly what it was.

A dump.

“Yeah, listen I know you're smart. And I know you need the pay.” Brandon said taking a bite out of his ramen. He used his chopstick to point at Namjoon. “Also I trust you man.”

Namjoon groaned out leaning back into his couch. “Trust me? With what? Don't tell me you got roped into something fucked up.”Namjoon complained. Brandon had that look in his eyes, Namjoon could tell when he was being shifty.

“So maybe I've kind of got something going with the girl, she's sweet, super sheltered, like the perfect girl,” Brandon says leaning back long with Namjoon. “I plan on asking her out when I'm back okay? I just need you to be so you man. All scholarly and shit.”

Namjoon thought about it for a minute. “How's the pay?”

��Around 500 a session. Trust me her family has the money to blow. They want the best and they trust me to have good recommendations. Also, the mom is a bit of an airhead anyway.”

“Fine, you're lucky I need to make rent.”

📖

You sat in your room bored out of your mind. Your mother told you that Brandon had found someone to continue your studies while he was away. You knew your mom was probably annoying the poor man downstairs. She had a habit of talking too much.

Curiosity got the better of you as you found yourself heading downstairs to your lavish mansion kitchen. You sat on the stairs, peering through the railing.

Your new tutor was handsome, slightly built with a buzz cut. He reminded you of men you see in movies, rich CEOs who would fall for their secretaries. Or even a dangerous boxer who has a soft spot for the ballerina.

Lost in your trance, your mom spotted you. “Oh! Sweetheart come down, Mr. Kim here would like to meet you.” You curse under your breath as you stand up and walk the rest of the way downstairs. Almost tripping as your socks slipped on the hardwood floor. You catch yourself walking over to the side of the island.

Mr. Kim looked at you for a moment before smiling. “Please call me Namjoon, Mr. Kim makes me sound old.” He said extending a hand. You take it and give him a slightly firm handshake.

“She'll call you Mr.Kim, respect always remember sweetheart?” Your mom cooed passing you a bowl of pomegranate seeds. You nod towards her as she smiles. “Okay now go study, Mr. Kim is a very smart man by the sound of it. If you need anything call me upstairs.”

You were already walking upstairs with Namjoon following close behind. You led him into your bedroom and sat down at your desk. You pull out the notebook that you and Brandon used. “Sorry if my mom was annoying you, she's ditzy like that.” You mumbled going to the practice test you were doing before Brandon left last session.

Snap!

You jump at Namjoons snapping right in front of your face. “I want you to focus. From what you're mother is telling me she wants you to pass with Korean as a foreign Language for college next semester correct?” You nod at Namjoon. You focus back in on the practice test.

It was a particular problem you stared at, and it was something you couldn't figure out. You were about to circle A but you were stopped by Namjoon grabbing your wrist. “Are you certain that's the answer?” He asks leaning next to you. You shake your head, no, your breathing rising in speed as his hand holds your own in place. “Then why are you answering it?”

“Because it's the next question?” You say your voice peeking as you finish the statement. It comes out like a question and more so it comes out as you being rude to him. You shake your head looking up at him. “Sorry… I mean… it's true I just didn't want you to take it as me being rude to you.”

“Focus.” He reprimands. “Look at the question and think again.” Namjoon let's go of your wrist and you reconsider the answer. It's D. The answer is D. You circle it and look back at Namjoon expecting a response. You're welcomed with a warm smile. “Very good.”

His hand digs into the bowl of pomegranate seeds and he pops one into your mouth. You blush as you feel the tips of his fingers touch your lips and the action in general. Not even Brandon did something that bold. “T-Thank you Namjoon.”

He gives you a warm smile, showing his dimples, something you just caught. “Good, now continue answering the rest of the questions, you don't want to do bad you're first day with me do you?”

📖

Once Namjoon got his pay and started his trek home he realized something. Brandon was right, you pretty much were the perfect girl. Just from one lesson, he realized he enjoyed teaching you something he's become so familiar with.

While he was lost in thought Brandon called him and Namjoon picked it up. “Hey, how was your first class?” Namjoon didn't want to tell him that he was secretly fond of the girl that Brandon liked and that he felt something for her as well so he chose to be as bland as possible.

“It was good. We just kind of reviewed what you guys already went over before.” Namjoon said crossing the street and walking into his apartment complex. He checked the mail seeing that he had nothing.

No one usually contacted him unless it was some bill.

“That's good, is she ok? I know I kind of left on short notice.” Brandon said into the phone. Namjoon hated that he felt indifferent towards Brandon's concerns. It wasn't really like him to see his friends whining about nothing in particular. “God I must've hurt her so bad.”

“I mean if she's hurt she didn't say anything about it, I mean I guess she was nervous,” Namjoon said entering his apartment. “I mean it's nothing bad for her to not be upset. Maybe she'll ask about you later?” God, he hated giving Brandon hope.

But Brandon took it as is. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate you doing this for me. Call you later.” And before Namjoon could even wish him goodbye the phone hung up in his face.

He let out a sigh before pouring a bowl of cereal. He wished you were there for him. You wouldn't have him eating this, you'd probably want him to eat better. Namjoon caught himself thinking in that way and he caught himself. He knew this would end badly. There is no other way it could go.

📖

Namjoon had taught you for about a month now, and you couldn't stop thinking about him. Even now as he sits next to you while you study what he taught you today, you couldn't help but fantasize about him.

You sat with your head down reading over the pages in your notebook. You poked your lip out, hoping he would notice you. It was fruitless of an attempt but you at least had to try.

“Namjoon, have you ever been in love?”

He looks up at you cocking a brow. “What does this have to do with Korean?” You look away at his question, keeping your eyes glued to the notebook. Namjoon takes his thumb and tilts your eyes to look into his own. “Look up here, Answer the question.”

Your eyes look away. “It was a dumb question, I shouldn't have asked it.”

“But you did. Why?”

You let out a sigh before responding. “Well, I was just wondering if you had, you don't have to answer it, I know it's off-topic.” You blabber on, Namjoon letting your head drop.

“Well, yeah of course. I'm 29, and I of course have had a few relationships. But they always just don't get it you know?” Namjoon rests his head in his hand, elbow resting on your desk. “They didn't want to change for the sake of our relationship. I guess I just have a bad taste in women huh?” He ended with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I mean what do you like in women…? I can probably be a good judge of character for you.” You add playing it off as being nice towards him. Maybe if he told you what he liked, you could change to fit his standards. Namjoon seemed to be a perfect man, and maybe you being almost 20 could be perfect in his eyes if you did.

He turned to look at you. “Well, I like my women of course pretty. Smart, shy, well… I mean that's too much already.” He said throwing his hand up to brush it off coyly. You put a hand on his thigh, looking into his eyes as to encourage him.

“Tell me, I want to know.”

“Well, I don't think it matters really. Unless you think that you're right for me.” Namjoon said leaning down to get closer to you. “Are you baby? Are you the right person for me?”

You nodded getting closer, your lips ghosting over his own. Namjoon does the final push, connecting your lips together. His hand goes to your hair, tangling his hand into it. His tongue brushed over your teeth, pushing into your mouth. You were messy, clunky, and unsure of what you were doing. As he pulled away, his chest rose and fell. “Do you think you love me?” He finally asks. “Is that why you asked me if I had ever been in love?”

“Mhmm, you're just so… amazing and wise… I've looked at you since you showed up in the kitchen…”

“Good, I think that you're amazing, and I want to see where this goes, I think you're the right person… the one I've been looking for,” Namjoon said before connecting your lips again.

📖

From that day on, every time you had a class with Namjoon, it was really spent cuddling and enjoying your time with the older man. Laying in bed, you two would usually talk about life, normally letting Namjoon talk and praise you. Maybe it was due to the fact you usually went along with whatever he wanted to do.

Like now.

You dug your nails into his arm, his hand dug into your panties, fingering you. He quieted your moans with his lips, you sitting in front of him, toes curling as they hang off your bed. “Joon…” You whine into his mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible. “It f-feels so good…”

His fingers curled, blunt nails hitting at your walls. “Yeah? Doesn't it feel good to be loved?” He said placing kisses down your neck, sucking a hickey to join new and faded ones. He usually couldn't keep his hands off of you, no matter what, usually liking for his hands to dig into your thighs, thumbs brushing over the top of your knee-high socks. But now he wanted to give you pleasure, something he called a gift since you two were together.

You nodded as you feel your cunt gush around his thick fingers. “Please let me cum… I need it, sir.” You moan quietly into his mouth. Namjoon only liked to be called sir when messing around. He told you that it made him feel empowered and that you being there made him feel so much better than usual. You saw nothing wrong with that of course, isn't that the role of a lover?

“Do it for me, baby, all over my fingers.” And you do, as soon as he says that, you throw your head back on his shoulder. You collapse onto him, Namjoon adjusting it to where you laid on him in bed. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking off your juices. You couldn't help but blush. “You taste amazing, like always.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Are you still going to be able to make it to my party? I know my parents invited you and stuff.” You ask, hand playing with your boyfriend's cheek. Of course, coming from a rich family meant you'd have large parties for your birthday. It's not like you wanted them but, they also told you they invited your tutor who just so happened to be your boyfriend.

Namjoon swatted at your fingers, chuckling a bit. “Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. We just won't pretend to be a thing.” He says. You nod in agreement, knowing your parent's reaction would most likely ruin the party in general.

“Yeah… okay! We should have around 30 minutes left, and I really just want to nap.” You say closing your eyes and laying down your head. Namjoons hand stroked at your head soothing you to fall asleep.

📖

The day had come for your party, and Namjoon couldn't have been more excited. He put on a brand new suit, one he brought with the money he made from his newfound job. As he arrives at the home, he spots that people have already shown up and that it's an outside party at that. Namjoon walked towards the backyard patio, your father setting up a backdrop for pictures.

“Mr, Kim, just the man I wanted to see,” Your father behind raising up to hug the man. “I'm glad you made it, hey can you head inside to grab the champagne buckets? They should be in the cellar in the basement.”

Namjoon nodded. “Yes, of course, I'll be back.” Namjoon makes his way to the back door seeing a table of women who blew kisses at them. He smiled before going inside, taking his phone out to send you a quick text.

Namjoon: Just arrived! Ur dad is already putting me to work lol

Baby🤍: Oh goddd I'll get on him about it.

Baby🤍 Still getting ready though, so just work for him a bit until I finish. Luv uuuu!!!

Namjoon chuckled at your texts as he made his way into the kitchen.

“So when were you going to tell me you started fucking her?” Namjoon put his phone down to look up, seeing no one other than Brandon. He stood at the kitchen island leaning on it, a drink in hand.

“Oh, your back? I thought you'd be gone longer.” Namjoon commented before turning to head to the basement. He wasn't going to deal with Brandon and ruin his girlfriend's day.

That thought was before Brandon shoved Namjoon into a wall. Brandon held Namjoons shirt. “Don't play dumb with me, I went to see her. I was gonna gift her a letter and she said she already had a boyfriend. And I know the only dude she would see constantly was you. How could you? I asked you to do one thing and you couldn't even do that?!” Brandon said, getting in Namjoons face. He whinced, Brandon's forearm resting on Namjoons neck pushing down. There was no way he was going to die this way, not from Brandon's rage.

Namjoon pushed him off, then shoved him down the basement stairs. Namjoon stood there as he watched Brandon fall, head hitting the wood. He waited until the last thud, Namjoon slowly walking downstairs to see what he had just done. Once he reaches the bottom, Namjoon smiles, the sick sight of Brandon writhing on the ground groaning. A puddle of blood formed around him, the impact from hitting the concrete probably giving him a concussion.

The bottom of Namjoons shoes clicked as he made his way to the cellar. He took the metal branding tool used to mark the barrels. The sound of metal shrieked as he dragged it towards Brandon's beat-up corpse. “I'm sorry I have to do this, but you're in my way now. And we can't have that now can we?” Namjoon taunted raising the iron. Brandon's eyes opened slightly as he saw the iron come down on him.

Namjoon felt tears pour down his cheeks as he began to beat Brandon in.He coughed up blood, and Namjoon didn't stop beating Brandon until he was certain he was dead. Once he came to that conclusion he dropped the iron. "Why did you make me do that huh?!" Namjoon yelled at no one. "You ruin everything, god, im happy you're fucking gone."

Namjoon claimed himself wiping his eyes of tears. He got up and grabbed the champagne buckets. He looked back before heading out of the basement, locking the door. He lets out a sigh before leaving, not looking back. He had bigger plans now, and Brandon wasn't in them.

He couldn't be in them.

Namjoons eyes trailed over your form, stopping at your socks as you laughed with your family. Outside the patio, you see Namjoon carrying the ice buckets and wave him over. He smiles at you before signing and returning to his girlfriend who he plans to keep forever.

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops @mayvalentine33 @devilzliaison

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the-fab-fox · 4 months ago

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Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.

This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seem to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment and do nothing in return.

All we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.

But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.

Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:

This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?

Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)

The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.

So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.

NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.

Excuses need to stop.

Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.

In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments on a chapter and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.

We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!

So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional if you're actively reading the fics or viewing the art for free and enjoyed it!

TLDR:

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.

DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)

That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.

(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #twst fanart #fe3h #fe3h fanfic #fe3h fanart #fire emblem three houses #writing #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfic #fanart #fanartist #fan artist #fandom #fe3h fandom #twst fandom

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notapradagurl7 · 2 years ago

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🌟 Welcome to My Masterlist! 🌟

| MINI FICS STORIES.

| SNOWFALL STORIES.

| BLACK WOMEN LOVE STORIES.

| THEY CLONED TYRONE STORIES.

| JOEY BADA$$ STORIES.

| METHOD MAN STORIES.

| THE BOYS MASTERLIST.

| LAMONT DIGGS/RAP SH!T LIST.

| BAD BOYS RIDE OR DIE LIST.

| KELVIN HARRISON JR LIST.

HUNGER GAMES LIST.

| ALL AMERICAN-HOMECOMING.

| AARON PIERRE MASTERLIST.

| SPOOKY SZN LIST.

| CANE TEJADA STORIES.

Hey there, beautiful souls! I’m a passionate Black woman writer, crafting stories that dive deep into the realms of love, desire, and everything in between. Here, you’ll find a collection of stories which are mature and +18 fanfiction and mini-series.

✨ Warnings: Explicit content, mature themes, strong language, and emotional intensity. Reader discretion is advised.

🌟 Request Corner 🌟

I’m here to bring your favorite characters and scenarios to life. Whether you’re craving steamy romance, heartfelt connections, or a touch of drama, I’m all ears!

✨ How to Request:

- Drop your favorite fandoms and characters in my inbox or push the ask button up top.

- Share your ideas or prompts—no detail is too small!

- Feel free to specify themes, pairings, or any particular elements you’d love to see.

Happy reading! ✨

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acourtofmusings · 7 months ago

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Penumbra - Series Introduction

pə-ˈnəm-brē : a space of partial illumination between the perfect shadow on all sides and the full light; a grey area

Pairing: Azriel x Reader Total Word Count: tbd

Summary: The inner circle has been sorely lacking a well-versed scholar, and luckily for them Y/N happens to bump into Nesta at a local romance book lovers convention. Her arrival comes just in time to flank reports that an ally of the Night Court is plotting something world-shattering. Despite every warning bell going off in her mind, she offers her assistance and finds herself enveloped in a dangerous game. Everything is at stake, and Y/N finds herself with a whole lot to lose when a certain Spymaster steps out of the shadows and into her light.

A/N: My falling-asleep fantasy scenarios have been extra intriguing recently, so naturally I'm turning to the world of fanfiction. For now, enjoy this teaser.

Chapter One (coming soon)

If there had ever been one thing that proved itself a constant in your life it was your need for the concrete. Black or white, those were the options. But ever since you had found yourself intertwined with the rambunctious group sitting with you in the large VIP booth at Ritas, things had steadily been muddling up into a daunting shade of grey. You smile at the sound of Cassian's boisterous laughter and take another sip from the drink you have been nursing for the better part of an hour. Nesta's calculated gaze lands on you from her place next to her mate.

"Y/N," she purrs, "You feeling okay?"

You nod and set your drink back down on the tabletop, tracing the rim with your finger. Your gaze begins a slow sweep across the other members of the inner circle, all sucked into their own individual conversations.

"I'm fine, Nesta. Just...taking it all in."

She lets a corner of her mouth quirk up, her subtle version of a well-meaning smile. "You'll get used to the noise eventually. They can get a bit caught up in themselves, but they mean well. Give it time."

Your gaze eventually settles onto the brooding spymaster who is currently nursing a double scotch on the rocks with the same level of disinterest as you. Shadows curl lazily over his shoulders, framed by powerful wings that are tucked tight against his back. He's leaning back into the cushion of the booth seat, listening to Mor's umpteenth dramatic tale of the evening. The movement of his shadows camouflages the swirls of black ink peeking from underneath his button down, and you take a moment to try and decipher what parts of the mesmerizing display are alive and which are tattooed. You fail miserably, reminding you again just how much you can't stand the nuance that surrounds this group of powerful fae. You force your eyes back over to your new friend, who now holds a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"Perhaps you should put down all of those ancient texts and become a spy instead."

You furrow your brow at her suggestion.

"Why would I do something like that?"

She chuckles to herself and pulls her own glass to her lips, finishing the remainder of the brightly colored drink. "You certainly enjoy starring just as much as he does."

You feel heat creep across your neck as you realize you were caught, and hope the swig of your drink that you take is enough for her to think it's a flush from the alcohol. You twist your face at the taste and shiver slightly as the burn runs down your throat.

"Thats what you get for ordering the well liquor," Nesta teases, "Rhys would happily add you to his tab if you stopped being so fucking stubborn. And don't think that amusing display gets you off the hook with me."

Cassian's wings perk up, and the nosy general turns to the two of you. "What display? What did I miss?" He leans down and speaks not-so-lowly into his mate's ear. "Is she finally relaxing? The both of you are way too boring for my taste right now." You feel heat burning up the sides of your neck and flooding onto your cheeks. Maybe your nervousness was coming off a bit standoffish, but you hated to think it was affecting anyone else's evening.

Cassian flags down a waitress and points between you and Nesta. "Excuse me miss, these two need to catch up. Get me two of something good and strong, please." He looks to you and wiggles his eyebrows "Add it to the High Lord's tab."

You begin to protest, looking apologetically to the waitress. "Oh, no thats okay, you really don't have to--"

"--add it..." Cassian insists, "to the High Lord's tab." The waitress smiles and nods, walking away to input the order. Cassian winks at you, smiling warmly. "You're sitting with the big boys now, sweets, no need to shy away from it. Rhys has money coming out of his ass, might as well put it to good use."

Rhys hears his name coming from his intoxicated brother and also turns his attention to you, violet eyes dancing with the same wicked amusement that often adorns Nesta's gaze.

"Ease off Cas," he chides, "I'm not that rich." The High Lord of the Night Court smirks. "Relax, Y/N, I'm not worried about what you spend on my account tonight. Or any night, for that matter. You're doing us all a massive favor, it's the least I can do."

You breath a sigh of relief and smile gently at him, and he returns it before looking back over to Feyre and Amren. Perhaps things were grey now, but maybe with enough time they could sort themselves out. Maybe you could actually find yourself settling into the rhythm of this group. As you feel yourself ease up, the waitress comes back with two bubbling cocktails.

A pair of hazel eyes train intently on you from the opposite end of the booth, marking your conversation and body language with acute awareness. Your timing was too coincidental. He had an odd feeling about you, one that his shadows seemed to enjoy egging on with their consistent pleas.

Need to know more. Let us learn more.

Azriel took a sip of his scotch, gaze still locked onto your form and only half listening to the tipsy giggling of his friends around him.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel #acotar fic #acotar series #azriel fic #azriel series

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l0vergrlll · 1 year ago

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: ̗̀ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Inspo: Care by Sonder (good song, I <3 Sonder)

Summary: You come home on a Friday evening after a rough week of work, excited to finally have some time alone with your boyfriend, who plans on taking good care of you tonight.

Warnings: established relationship, bathing together, fluff, suggestive, no actual smut, just cuteness hehehe

Note: this is my first fanfiction EVER!! It's not the best but not the worst ig. I also wrote it at like 2am lol. Enjoy!

It's been raining relentlessly this evening, and it seemed to show no signs of coming to an end any time soon. You don’t mind it, though. Frankly, you found the rain rather peaceful. You thought it was nature’s way of quieting the rest of the world’s unwavering commotion with its own serene ambience. The pleasant pitter-pattering of droplets against the car window served as a calm, subdued white noise for you as you rested your forehead against the cool glass. Your eyes subconsciously followed each passing car, each person scrambling in the downpour, eager to get home. You were itching to get back to the apartment as well, taking glances at the taxi driver’s GPS up front to get an idea of how much time remained. You relaxed back into the backseat, sighing as you returned your attention to the outside world, observing the cohorts of people flooding out of the revolving doors of various high rise buildings.

It was definitely a taxing work week to say the least. You were overcome with relief as you let the idea of the oncoming weekend embrace you in a welcoming hug. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the thought of what was waiting for you back home. A chance to unwind, treat yourself, and indulge in the warm comforts of your weekend hobbies and activities. But what excited you most was the idea of him.

The week had been a rigorous, almost never-ending series of projects, meetings, and all-nighters. And you were painfully aware of the lack of quality time spent with Matt. Even though you couldn’t help your harsh schedule, and he was endlessly understanding, you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt which weighed on your heart. After a week of dull, rushed conversations with him as you were scrambling to get out of the door on time for work, you were experiencing what almost felt like withdrawals. When was the last time you allowed yourself to lay in his strong arms, comfortable in his secure embrace? When did you last feel the shivering sensation crawl up your spine and the warming of your cheeks as he whispered into your ears, his lips grazing your earlobe with every word? You craved the grit of his voice blessing your ears as he spoke to you, the way your heart fluttered as his pale blue eyes pierced into your own, slightly squinting as he spoke. The way you gasped and muffled your moans with the back of your hand as your back arched to his rhythmic, unforgiving thrusts. The way tears would fall down the sides of your face as you couldn’t contain your pleasurable screams, digging your nails into his biceps as he edged you closer to your climax, whilst simultaneously groaning in your ear. Close was never close enough. You missed that unyielding need for each other.

Finally, the driver parked parallel to the entrance of your apartment building. You were swift to exit the car, thanking him in the process. The rain showed no mercy, prompting you to run inside the building whilst holding a hand above your head as a pathetic form of coverage. Once inside, you called for the elevator with the click of a button, squirming uneasily in your damp work clothes. You felt giddy with anticipation, undoubtedly excited to see Matt, to jump into his arms and inhale his scent. At long last, you were on your floor and facing your apartment door, fiddling in your purse for the keys. You tutted in annoyance as you struggled to dig them out in the jungle of items stuffed in your purse.

You audibly groan with frustration, about to dump the entirety of the contents inside when you hear the door click. You look up to see it open fully, Matt looking down at you with disheveled hair and an almost childish grin of pure excitement. He leaned against the door frame, wearing a black long sleeve and gray sweats which were untied, loosely hanging low on his waist and revealing the brim of his boxers. You couldn’t help but return the smile, and laugh as he pulled you in by the arm, wrapping his own around your waist and burying his head in your damp hair.

“God, remind me to clean out my purse, please,” you remarked, smiling as you snuggled your face into his chest, your hands gripping onto his shirt.

Matt laughed silently as he pushed you away slightly, now able to look at you.

“I’m glad you're home, baby. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you,” He spoke softly, and god was the gruff sound of his voice elating. You smiled at him, and took his hand in yours as the two of you wandered into the kitchen, the smell of food engulfing your senses.

“I think I might, Matty. I’ve really been missing you too. Thank God it’s finally Friday,” You exhaled with relief once again. Matt’s arms snaked around your body from behind you, and he pressed himself against your back. He’s taller than you, able to rest his jaw upon your head as you leaned back into him. You rested your head slightly on his shoulder as you looked up at him, really taking in the sight. Your handsome boyfriend, adorned by a freshly shaven complexion. You traced his sharp jawline with your finger, moving it upwards as you gently carved out the outline of his cheekbones. A smile crept across his face as he looked down at you. His arms tightened their hold around you and he lowered his head into your neck, inhaling deeply.

“So I made you dinner…” He spoke softly, bringing his hands up from around your waist and onto your shoulder, gently pressing his fingers expertly as he massaged them. You exhale with your mouth open, clearly needing the relief of tension. He continued, “...But I think what you really need is a nice hot bath. What do you think, sweetheart?” His voice lowered, almost into a whisper as he spoke dangerously close to your ear. He continued to rub your shoulders, awaiting your response.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d love a bath right now,” You turned slightly to face him.

“I thought you might, so I have one ready for you,” He smiled, his eyes squinting at the corners as he did so. You melted at the sight every time, never able to get enough of that pretty face.

“Wow, you seem really proud of yourself,” You joked. He chuckled lightly, and suddenly moved away from behind you, taking your hand in his. He tugged you in the direction of the bathroom. Your smile never faded, your cheeks and ears warming at his sheer thoughtfulness. Upon entering the bathroom, he closed the door gently behind the two of you.

“You know I care about you, more than anything. Let me show you tonight just how much I do,” He dropped your hand as he spoke and walked over to the bathtub, lowering a hand into the water to check if the temperature was right. You noticed the thick layer of foamy bubbles sitting on top of the water. You breathed in, a strong aroma lingering in the room. It was eucalyptus, your favorite, meaning Matt used your favorite aromatic bubble bath. Two candles were lit, sitting on the corner of the tub. Matt had hung up two bathrobes upon the hooks which hung from the back of the bathroom door. Everything was laid out for you, your favorite body scrubs, creams, and hair care items.

Matt smiled, pleased at himself as he watched you beam appreciatively at his efforts.

“Hop in, beautiful,” He spoke as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his bare torso. You stare with your mouth open at his nude upper body, admiring the slight curvature of his toned muscles. The way they descended into his v-line, lined down the center with a little hair. You watched as he slid his sweats down with his thumbs. He smirked playfully at your anticipation for his boxers to come off next, and instead of rewarding you with that display, he walked up to you and lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head as you obediently lifted your arms in an effort to help.

He whispered almost to himself, “Let me take care of you tonight..” repeating the promise he had previously mentioned. You let him pull your pants down, dragging your underwear down with them as you lifted each leg for him to fully remove the garments. You held onto his hair as he did so, and you smiled to yourself, unable to prevent the heat of blush which tainted your cheeks at the intimacy of it all. Once your bottoms were off, he ascended back up and moved onto the clasp of your bra, expertly unclipping it and slipping the fabric off forwards. Your breasts relaxed, perking upwards with taut nipples as he removed it, and you watched as his eyes observed them hungrily. He stepped back for a moment, appreciating the art in front of him. He sucked his bottom lip as he examined the beauty of your nudity. You laughed, and his gaze then lifted to your own. He leaned in, suddenly removing any space between you two.

“I haven’t even kissed those pretty lips yet,” He whispered, followed by his lips softly landing on yours. You brought your hands up around his neck as you hungrily moved your mouth against his, your body buzzing as his lips closed around yours repeatedly. He pulled away, and took your hand again, leading you to the tub. He let you keep holding his hand as you stepped into the tub, the hot water initially shocking your skin, making it deliciously difficult to delve the rest of your body within the water. You sighed as you lowered yourself, the comfort of the heat engulfing you.

“Oh yeah… I really needed this,” You spoke breathily, your body relaxing. It’s clear that your body was wound up, and in desperate need for this physical consolation. You watched matt lower his boxers, revealing his large manhood. You bit your lip slightly at the sight, smirking as he maintained eye contact with you in the act. He flashed you with one of his signature sexy grins, and took his turn entering the tub. He groaned quietly at the shock of the heat, slowly lowering himself until he was opposite to you, his long legs meeting yours as his knees remained visible and bent above the water. For a while, the two of you remained in comfortable silence, staring at each other. You let the warmth cloud your conscience, freeing your mind of the unbreakable stress of the work week. Simply being with Matt at all was enough to ease your turmoil. But when the two of you took part in rare intimacies like this, just naked and in each other’s presence, you felt as if he was your haven, as if he was the physical embodiment of comfort and safety.

He was still staring at you, the humidity causing his soft brown hair to flatten a bit, ever so slightly damp at the very edges. His alluring eyes devoured your physical being, his unbroken eye contact causing your heart to flutter.

“What?” You asked shyly, slightly lowering further into the water as a way of hiding your vulnerability from his intimidating gaze.

“Come here,” He said with a smirk, holding out his strong, veiny arm in invitation. You crawled over to him in the water, careful to refrain from splashing outside the confines of the tub. As you made your way to his body, you turned your own so that your back faced him. He then wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in so your bare body is pressed against his. You giggled as you felt his hard dick prod at your lower back, but stayed leaning into him. This kind of closeness drove you crazy. You just wanted to bask in his comfort forever. You wanted to stay this way, naked and in eachothers arms, for it was the two of you in your most vulnerable state. The idea of it warmed your heart. And Matt felt equally as appreciative. The kind of love the two of you had, was a love which seemed to transcend the meaning of love itself. It felt as if you two were bound at the soul. It wasn’t only your bodies pressed against each other, but also your hearts, making love, entwined with one another and refusing to detach.

“I need you like I need oxygen. Is that crazy to say?” He spoke suddenly, and then chased the lingering words with passionate kisses on your neck. You loved when he randomly spoke his mind, saying the most romantic things sometimes. He tightened his hold, wanting to pull you in beyond what was physically possible. You moaned softly at his hungry kisses, which slowly escalated into nibbles and sucking, leaving signature spots in the areas in which you loved for his mouth to be, and he loved to remain.

“Of course it’s not crazy, baby.” You responded, your voice soft and flirtatious as he continued to kiss down your neck, his hips ever so slightly bucking upwards into your back. His hardness pressed against you, revealing his pure desire.

“In fact, I think I need you more than that. I mean, what would I ever do without you?” You continued, bringing a hand up to wrap around his neck. “You take such good care of me, Matty. Thank you for this.”

“You're welcome, pretty girl. I love everything about you, care about everything you do,” He spoke into your neck. Without looking away from you, he palmed the shaving cream that was sitting on the other side of the tub, and with the same hand grabbed your razor which was sitting beside it. He lifted his head from neck and smiled as he gazed into your eyes. He brought the arm that was still around your waist up and held your tit, massaging it slightly to both of your pleasure. You giggled, followed by a satisfied moan as he played with your nipple.

“Whatcha gonna do with that?” You gave him a quizzical look as he squirted some shaving cream into his hand. He gave you a light nudge back towards the other end of the tub.

“Can you move back to the other side and lift your leg up for me?” He smiled as the question left his lips. He had a way of asking questions like that with such a ravishing tone, his words alone made you want to moan in pleasure. Naturally, you obeyed, moving back to the other end of the tub and facing him again. You lifted your leg out of the water and he gripped it firmly, bringing your foot up to rest on his shoulder. He placed the cool white product on your leg, and began gently rubbing it so that it emulsified, covering the entirety of your shin. He did so while looking at you with lust tainting his eyes, accompanied with a tantalizing smirk. You watched him intently, fascinated by the way his hands roamed the surface of your skin, the muscles on his arms contracting slightly as he moved. His touch, his large hand holding your leg, it made your skin buzz with excitement. You were obsessed with the way he caressed you with such longing, as if he couldn’t survive without your touch, your warmth.

He let the hand covered in shaving cream drop into the water, rinsing it off. Then he picked up the razor and positioned it right at your ankle, close to his face. He slowly set the razor down onto your skin, and gently moved it up your leg while maintaining the slight pressure upon your skin. He moved his gaze from the razor to your face repeatedly, watching your reaction as he attentively shaved your leg. Something about the activity was so feverishly romantic. The way he maneuvered the razor with such care as to not leave behind any cuts or bumps. He went slow, and smiled at you yet again as you let your head lull to the side slightly, letting him groom you, take care of you.

“How is it?” He asked, as if performing an act of intimacy out of which you had to be satisfied. Which for the two of you, it was, as he shaved your leg with precision, his breath tickling your feet from time to time as he worked.

“You’re perfect,” You say. It was the only conclusion you were able to come to during the whole thing. He was simply perfect. He chuckled, lifting the razor as he did so as to not accidentally cut you.

“Well..” He trailed off, returning his attention to the job at hand. His other hand remained resting on the side of your ankle, his thumb moving up and down, gently rubbing your skin. He suddenly brought his lips to the skin on your inner ankle, placing a gentle peck of a kiss. He then brought his attention back to your face, pure passion projecting from his gaze. His lips were upturned in a tiny smile as he spoke.

“You know I care.”

...

a/n: smutty part 2??? maybe???

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic

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toxic3mmy · 6 months ago

Text

Star Struck

prompt: you get a message from alex on tumblr

hai lovely peeps <3

this is gonna be a short little book type thing with a few more chapters to come

i hope you guys enjoy!

ps- ill try my best to update this series at least once a week!!!

you mindlessly scrolled through tumblr. yes it wasn’t 2015 anymore but you still used the app religiously. you had a good number of followers, too.

you posted about all the emo and alternative music you were into and not to mention the youtubers who you loved.

your number one favorite youtuber was alexis quackity. you related to him in many different ways. he made you laugh on days you weren’t doing too well. he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know him personally and it was all most likely just an internet personality.

still, you found yourself talking about his latest let’s talk streams or even his random tweets. you loved having a community of online mutuals that felt the same way about quackity.

____

halfway across the country, alexis sat cross-legged on the floor of his cluttered apartment, surrounded by a sea of empty takeout boxes and energy drink cans. his eyes were glued to the computer screen, the glow from the monitor reflecting off his square-rimmed glasses. his mouse hand hovered over the keyboard, poised to respond to the endless stream of comments that flooded his youtube channel. his thumbs danced across his phone, scrolling through the notifications that seemed to never end.

it had been a wild ride for alexis since he started streaming games and posting videos under the moniker 'Quackity'. the fame had come quickly, and with it, the adoration of millions of fans around the globe.

sometimes alex would take the time and look through his community of devoted fans. he would use throwaway accounts to simply be unknown for once and just see what there was out there.

his fans were so unbelievably talented. many of them were amazing artists making portraits of him or even writing songs for him. some were even exceptional writers and the fanfiction stories he’d come across were actually pretty good.

amidst the digital chaos, one fan seemed to stand out from the rest. y/n, with her username 'Y/NIsNotHere', had caught his attention with her thoughtful comments and unyielding support. He clicked on her tumblr profile, and there it was: a fan account dedicated solely to him.

her profile was a shrine to his digital persona, filled with meticulously edited gifs, screenshots from his streams, and heartfelt notes about how his content had changed her life. Alexis felt a strange mix of flattery and curiosity. he hovered over the 'send message' button, his heart racing with excitement.

what did she look like? what was her voice like? would she be as amazing as she seemed? with a deep breath, he typed out a simple hello.

granted, he was using a secret throwaway tumblr account so he didn’t expect for an immediate response. and yet, the response still came rather quickly.

Y/Nisnothere: hi! whats up?

emoboy666_: nothing much, just surfin da web. so you’re a fan of quackity?

Y/Nisnothere: yeah im definitely a huge fan. there’s just something about him you know? he’s different, he makes me feel okay

alexis’ cheeks heated up after reading the compliment. he smiled softly as he continued to message you

emoboy666_: i totally get you! it’s nice to be distracted from things

Y/Nisnothere: for sure! so tell me about yourself

emoboy666_: well, im in my early 20s.. im mexican, i love video games and art….. oh and you can just call me A

Y/Nisnothere: well im 21, im also mexican, im also really into all things artsy and nerdy and well, emo lol, and you can just call me y/n :3

emoboy666_: i’m glad we have some things in common! your blog is really cool btw, it’s like a hidden gem amongst the cyber world

Y/Nisnothere: aw thanks! that’s really sweet of you to say <3

emoboy666_: no prob (: so, what are you doing right now?

Y/Nisnothere: oh not much, trying to do homework but getting distracted by tumblr and twitter lol. and u?

emoboy666_: oh same here, what do you study?

Y/Nisnothere: i’m studying art

emoboy666_: that’s awesome! maybe you should show me some of your work sometime

Y/Nisnothere: yeah! id love to (:

emoboy666: me too (:

Y/Nisnothere: (: <3

the two of you continued to message each other practically all night. you were happy to have made a new online friend and alexis was happy to get to know one of his fans.

neither of you truly knew who was on the other end of the phone but you still really enjoyed talking to one another. it was refreshing for the two of you.

you fell asleep with thoughts of your new friend, A

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

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savage-sinister · 2 months ago

Note

have yall ever checked the comment someone leaves on a bookmark of your work? Not a comment on your fic, but a bookmark where theyve left a note. i think its worth looking, ive seen people say really sweet (and humorous) things in the bookmarks without ever leaving a comment.

Hey pal. <3 First of all, thank you. I can tell you're trying to cheer me up because you think I might be upset about the response/lack of response to my fanfics, and I appreciate it. You're a swell, warm-hearted person and I appreciate you.

Before I answer your question, I'm going to clarify something.

I know it probably looks from all the posting I've been doing that I'm maybe upset that my fanfictions don't get enough kudos. That's not actually the case.

First of all, I only post fic on AO3 at all becasue it's a convenient way to archive the writing my partner and I do. We have about 2 million words of Danganronpa and other fandom fanfiction that pre-date us posting on AO3. We started posting because Skype ate an entire longfic on us.

Second of all, given that I post fic mostly for wildly unpopular pairings in niche fandoms, my fic actually gets a lot of kudos and comments! My audience is great, and I'm so grateful for all of them. I have some repeat commenters that I love to chat with, and I love seeing the same names in the kudos list for fanfics in the same series! (I have about 15k kudos on about 1.5 million words of fic).

This isn't about my kudos, or my satisfaction.

This is about how I started a positivity post to make people feel better about "kudos ratios" and in the process I accidentally found out that a lot of people don't actually even bother to kudos fic they like. They just read it, enjoy it, and move on without ever telling the author about it. And that sucks!

And I've gotten more and more passionate about it as more and more people tell me to "shut up because authors are not entitled to praise." Uh, no, obviously, but if something gave you joy you can take one literal second to click a button and let the author know that happened.

So I'm not upset on my own behalf, and you don't have to worry about cheering me up.

That said, anon. I'm really sorry to tell you this.

My AO3 fics have a total of 2,588 bookmarks as for right now.

Exactly six of those bookmarks have comments of any kind. One of them is really mean 😂😂😂😂

That said it was nice reading the nice comments that were there.

Thank you again anon and have a great day <3

#ask answers #friend mail #fandom wank #archive of our own #ao3 #🔪🔪

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vettelsvee · 1 year ago

Text

sooooo since you all wanted it (literally three people and one of them is one of my ibf) i’m about to become your source of sebastian vettel x reader fanfiction/one shots

upcoming seb x reader works include one shots and long series, including some au and my fave one that has been living on my mind rent free: rbr seb x jenson’s gf reader x jenson button *blushes like a slut*

also, do you want some prompts or specific seb (or any other driver) one shot? 🙂‍↕️

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pynkgothicka · 2 years ago

Text

ＤＥＡＴＨＪＪＫ

Synopsis - After your husband passes, your therapist gives you a new opportunity to be with him. (Part one of The Monster Series.)

Pairing - Yandere! Dark! Android! Jeon Jungkook x Widower! Fem! Reader

Featuring - Steven Yuen

Tags and Warnings - Violence, Death, Yelling

Authors Note - One down 5 more to go

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“Ma'am, he's not coming back.”

You stared in shock at the body on the side of the road. Your husband was laying dead a bullet wound in his chest and you couldn't do anything about it.

“Kook…. No…. Kook….”

The cop there had to physically drag you away. You crying and sobbing as you watched him get dragged away.

But that was a long time ago.

Sitting down in your therapists office had you in a daze, your mind on a constant loop of that night. Hands covering your tear stained eyes. “Miss Jeon, his death was over a year ago. Yet you can't seem to get past it. Why is that?” Your therapist commented as she sat in the chair in front of you.

“I miss him, he was my life. Jeon Jungkook was my everything.” You said looking down at your lap. “I sit in the house he saved up to buy for us and I'm just surrounded by him.”

“He was taken when you needed him most…”

“You know this… Why are you asking me this?” You say looking at her with a aggravated look on your face.

Your therapist let out a sigh before reaching into her desk. He then handed you a card. On the front read DEATH.

Deceased

Electric

Android

Therapeutic

Humanoid

“Take it. You need it. Call the number on the back and they'll set everything up.”

🤖

That's what led you to sitting in a random office. You came about 30 minutes before after setting up a appointment.

The entire building had this futuristic build to it. Every light had a light neon blue glow to them. And almost everything was automated through technology. Outside the large glass window and saw all sorts of people with androids in general. It was kind of creepy yet sad knowing what the company was for.

“Hello Mrs. Jeon. I heard about your situation.” You were pulled out of your gaze as a man in a sleek white lab coat walked in. His name tag read, Lead Scientist Mr. Yuen. “It's quiet, sad really. Having your husband taken from you at such a crucial part of the relationship.” He walked to sit behind the desk in front of you.

“Yes, so… what exactly do you guys do?” You ask trying to pull away from the topic of your husbands demise.

“Well,” He pulls out a hard drive, written on the front in sharpie the letters JJK. “This is your husband's entire consciousness. We'd gotten access to your husband's brain. Your lucky he was a organ donor.”

You could feel tears prick your eyes. Your husband was right there.

He was so close.

“We take this and put it into a android. That android is as close to a human as we could get it. Even the skin feels realistic. Height, weight, even a replica of all that junk down there. Practically a one to one ratio.” Mr. Yuen chuckles. “And this will cost nothing as our company is pretty new. We really just need people to say what we offer works.”

You were desperate. You do care anymore, it was something. You nodded as Mr Yuen smiled and placed a stack of paperwork in front of you. “He'll be ready for you in a few hours.”

🤖

You sat in a lounge area waiting patiently. You looked mindlessly through a magazine, trying to be as level headed as possible.

“Mrs Jeon!”

Your head shot up at the sound of your name being called. It took you a bit to stand up but when you did you were in shock.

There he stood.

The love of your life.

Jeon Jungkook.

“Baby?”

His voice sounded exactly the same. It was him. Your mind was clouded at being reunited with him, and all you could do was cry and run towards him. You hugged him, and you could feel him hug you back. His strength showed as he nearly crushed you.

“Okay okay you have to let go!” You said giggling. Jungkook did, him looking at you with nothing but love and adoration. You looked at the side of his forehead seeing a blue ring of light.

It reminded you of what this actually was. And how this wasn't actually him…

“It doesn't have to be there…” Jungkook said looking at your eyes on the led light. You watched in bewilderment as his skin tone covered the blue circular ring. “Is that better?”

You nod mindlessly as you take Jungkooks cheeks in your hands to kiss him.

It was quick but needed.

Even his lips were just as soft as Jungkooks.

Mr. Yuen stood off to the side and when he felt it was needed walked up to you to shake your hand.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you Mrs Jeon. If you have any issues please do call.”

🤖

Things started to go wrong almost a week into bringing him home. You were seated on the couch with him, going through a old photo album. You were pointing out memories the both of you had, trying to see if he had the memories of your lost love.

And he was struggling.

“Kook, baby… you don't remember this?” You said pointing towards your first date. He'd taken you to go to a book store. But He just stared at it trying to process what he saw but he just couldn't.

“I'm sorry. I can't… I don't remember.” Jungkook said putting his head into his hands. “I-I’m so sorry.” It sounded as if he was crying, which was something you didn't even know he could do. Then again he is supposed to be the closest thing to a human.

With a shakey hand you patted his back trying to comfort him. Then your wrapped your arms around him, kissing the side of his face. “It's okay. Trust me we'll get through this one step at a time. I should be apologizing, I tried forcing way too much onto you.” You say kissing the top of his head once again.

“I don't get it… I don't fucking get it.” He growled the grip on his head getting harsher. He then reeled his head back and slammed it into the coffee table. You quickly grab his shoulders to pull him back.

“Kook! Kook! Stop!” You yelled as he struggled against you, trying to punish himself. He then seemingly stopped, artificial tears cascading down his face.

“What happened…?” He asked looking at you with those same soft eyes you fell for.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

🤖

You spend about a month with your new android husband, his mood changes still existing. But you looked past them, and instead just tried to work with him.

Like now you two were on a date and Jungkook was a gentleman and his usual playful self.

“Honestly I like eating. It's something about all those textures in your mouth that just make the experience!” Jungkook stated describing eating as if it was the best thing in the world. But all you could do was laugh at his antics. You wish you had that much joy for living.

Jungkook stared at you dumbfounded. “What's so funny?” He said beginning to laugh with you.

“Your just, so amused by seemingly little things. It's kind of funny.” You reply smiling. This was almost reminiscent of how you and your actual husband were. That was until the waiter cam around for about the 5th time that night. Jungkook would get more angry by the minute anytime he was around. Like now, as Jungkook stopped laughing and side eyed the waiter as he passed the drinks. As soon as he left you spoke up, “Kook, baby you have to calm down.”

“I'm calm. He just needs to leave us alone.” He seethes under his breath.

Then the waiter returns.

And Jungkook shoots up, grabs his arm and begins to yell at him. “Leave us the fuck alone!” People gasp as the waiter groans out. “Man you're bruising me!” The waiter says trying to prey Jungkook off. You get up and grab his shoulder.

“Let go! Let go now!” You yell and Jungkook almost immediately retracts his grasp. Your left embarrassed, and finally state that this is the last straw as you leave in a hurry.

🤖

“Hi I was told to call this number if I something was wrong with my product.” You stood outside on the porch of your house.

“Ma'am. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do.” The receptionist replies. Your face furrows as you raise your voice.

“What? There's obviously something wrong, my husband has never acted this way. I need to talk Dr Yuen. Please!” You practically begged.

“Ma'am. DEATH company has ceased to exist. Too many bugs, and you seem to have one. I say either get rid of the product or live with it. Good day.” Then the phone hangs up.

The first option was out of the question.

You couldn't see him die again.

But you didn't know how much longer you could live with the android. His mood swings become more and more drastic every day.

With a heavy head and heart you walked back in, bumping into Jungkooks hard chest.

“You think something is wrong with me.” He said solemnly.

“Kook baby, no… you're just… I think….” You couldn't even muster up a excuse for him. “It's just that… your not… my husband…”

You tried to walk past him but he moved in your way. “I'm not? Then why do I have all these thoughts? Why do I consistently feel plagued by him?” He spat at you. You moved to one side and quickly went the other way around him. “My mind is filled with you! His thoughts about you … I'm him!”

“Calm down… Please! I'm- I didn't mean what I said!” You beg putting your hands up as a act of defense. Jungkook seethed grabbing at his hair. He moved it forcibly.

“Is it this?” He yelled showing the led ring on the side of his skull. “Is it the fact that your “husband” wasn't a robotic freak!” You quickly love your footing falling onto the carpet. You felt a sharp pain in your arm as your forced to drag yourself away.

In fear, you watched as Jungkook took to a nearby mirror throwing it to the ground. You screamed as glass shot near him everywhere. He picked up a sizeable piece and took it to the side of his head. “I can change… I will change…” He then began to cut at the piece, all the while stepping towards you. He yanked it out throwing the circle to the side.

Jungkook now stood over you.

“Am I like him now? Am I your perfect husband….” He taunted. You shake your head no as you cried beneath his form. He just smiled. “Your lying… and in denial. Look at that arm… you broke it. All because you tried to get away from me.”

“Your…. you're not my husband. Your a monster.” You said with finality. The pain in your arm made your vision spotty.

“No baby… I'm your love. And I'm not leaving anytime soon.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 9 months ago

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 47

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

In the reflection of the dressing gown mirror, you watched Azriel gently brush through your hair. His touch was tender and caring, his fingers working through every knot and tangle with precision and love. You weren't sure where he learned to be so gentle, but you were grateful for it. As he finished and stepped back to examine his work, his eyes met yours in the mirror with a soft smile. He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close as if trying to hold onto this moment forever. His hands rested on your shoulders, and you could feel the weight of his worry and pain through them. You reached up to interlace your fingers with his, tracing over the scars that told his story. In this quiet moment, you both knew that there were secrets and pains that could break either of you at any time. But for now, you held onto each other, finding solace in just being together, supporting one another through whatever may come. Azriel's hazel eyes opened and met yours in the mirror, no longer hiding his emotions. They reflected a mix of love, fear, and sadness, but above all else, they showed just how much he cherished this moment with you. And you knew that despite everything else, there were few things that could compare to the comfort and love shared between the two of you in this very moment.

“We need to go.” Azriel's voice was thick with unshed tears as he whispered into your hair, pressing a long and desperate kiss onto the top of your head.

You could feel his body shaking against yours, and you knew that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. Your hands trembled as you tried to clasp the buttons on the dress provided for you by the House, but your vision was blurred with tears and the buttons felt like they were mocking you. Azriel approached, his hands covering yours and stopping you from continuing. “Here,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Let me help.”

You allowed your hands to drop, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. But his gaze was focused and distant, as though he couldn't bring himself to look at you. "Azriel," you began, your voice shaking. "What's going to happen to us?" He didn't answer, just continued working on the buttons with a mechanical precision.

"What's going to happen to me?" you asked again, feeling more desperate and afraid with each passing moment. Azriel's hands stuttered in their task at this question, and he finally looked up at you with tears shining in his eyes. His lips pressed together tightly as he considered his answer before shaking his head and returning to his work.

"I don't know," he said hollowly.

"Is this going to hurt?" Your voice was almost devoid of emotion now, your fear and pain taking over completely. Azriel's whole body seemed to recoil at your words, and he closed his eyes tightly as if trying to block out the thought of causing you any harm. He fidgeted slightly before pulling away from you and towards the door, rubbing at his nose as he sniffled, refusing to meet your eyes or offer any comfort.

"We need to go," he repeated, his scarred hand gesturing towards the hall in front of him. You stood frozen before him, your mouth hanging open in disbelief and terror at his sudden change in demeanor. Perhaps if he looked at you, he would break down and reveal all the emotions boiling beneath the surface. But for now, he was hiding them from you, and you were left alone with your fears and doubts about what was to come.

You looked down to where those few buttons remained undone and you quickly fixed them up yourself. You looked over your shoulder at the mirror, straightening your hair and pulling it over your shoulders as you sniffled lightly, trying to compose yourself. You nodded, clearing your throat before walking past Azriel, avoiding his eyes as you passed, but as you did, you felt his whole body tense as though he was struggling to not reach out to stop you, but his hands stayed where they were as he followed you out. And as you heard the door shut behind you you wondered if you might never see that room again.

—

As you hesitantly approached the grand library, murmurs of familiar voices fluttered through the air. Rhysand, Lucien, Nesta, Cassian, and Eris. Your heart quickened its pace as you froze in place, Azriel appearing by your side and gripping your hand tightly with a reassuring smile. "We have to go in," he whispered urgently, nodding towards the open doorway.

"I'm scared," you admitted with a tremble, his hazel eyes meeting yours but betraying no emotion.

"I know," he replied grimly. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself and stepped into the darkened room.

The space was dimly lit, shadows of rainclouds dancing across the walls from outside. All eyes turned to you as you descended the stairs into the sitting area. Perhaps they had all been filled in on some important information before your arrival. Something that made you dangerous.

Eris stood casually by the fireplace, his sharp gaze assessing you with unnerving intensity. The room fell silent.

"You look well," remarked the High Lord of Autumn coolly.

You forced a strained smile and nodded in reply, "You too."

The tension in the room was palpable, weighted down by their powerful statuses. You felt like a lamb being led to slaughter. Frustration bubbled beneath your skin and finally erupted in one desperate outburst, "Would someone please tell me what is going on?" Your voice shook with emotion as you turned to face Eris, Rhysand rising from his seat to stand next to him.

Eris' eyes bore into yours like daggers as he continued his appraisal. Rhysand waited, a quiet but prominent presence at Eris' side.

Finally, the High Lord of Autumn broke the silence, his words dripping with malice, "I'm afraid this is not a pleasant meeting."

Your heart sank at his ominous tone. "Firstly, let me apologize for my brother's actions. He has always had a flair for the dramatic, and I'm sure he has caused your family great discomfort." Eris straightened his jacket casually, but there was no sincerity in his movements. "But that is not all. I also have another apology to make - one that brings no solace."

Confusion and fear crept over you as you furrowed your brow, exchanging glances between Eris and Rhysand who remained silent, lips pressed in a thin line.

Eris continued, his voice heavy with the weight of consequences, "The situation that Philip has put us in runs much deeper than we initially thought." Dread settled in your stomach like a thick fog. "And sadly," he paused before delivering the final blow, "it seems there is no favorable outcome for any of us involved."

Eris' hands remained relaxed and loose at his sides, as if he faced no difficulty in the matter. But his narrowed eyes held a dangerous glint.

You could feel tension radiating off him as he explained the dire situation.

"This whole mess goes far beyond my brother's frustrations towards the Night Court. It is common knowledge that my brothers and I do not see eye to eye on many matters, with many working actively to undermine my authority as High Lord." Eris' voice dripped with anger. "And Philip, that manipulative bastard, is using your abandonment of our mating bond as a means to discredit my values and cause chaos within our court."

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, still unsure of how any of this involved you.

Eris's voice was calm and collected as he spoke, but his words were like daggers to your heart. "Philip plans to use your abandonment of your mate as evidence against my ability to uphold our ancient traditions," he gestured towards you with a disheartened look on his face. "In our court, if someone rejects their mate and takes shelter elsewhere, it is considered a betrayal to the Mother and punishable by law."

You could feel the tension in the room rising, your blood boiling at the thought of being controlled by archaic customs and forced back into a relationship you wanted no part in. "I am not a member of your twisted court," you spat out venomously, glaring at Eris with all the defiance you could muster.

Eris let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I agree that many of our traditions need to be reevaluated, but as it stands now, I do not have the support or power to make those changes immediately,” he gestured to the air around him. “It’s in the long term plans. And unfortunately, whether you like it or not, Y/N, you are considered a citizen of the Autumn Court."

Your jaw tightened in anger as Eris's words cut deep. But before you could voice your disapproval, Rhysand interjected with a grave tone, trying to diffuse you before you flew across the room and strangled the Autumn Court High Lord.

"Listen to me, Y/N," Rhysand said firmly. "This is a delicate situation and we need to tread carefully, not just for our sake but for the sake of our courts."

You shot Rhysand a glare filled with fiery defiance, but he remained resolute. "There is nothing delicate about this. I refuse to go."

“Y/N,” Eris spoke up again, leaning in towards you, “If you don't come willingly, I will have no choice but to bring an army to take you back.” Despite the threat, there was a flicker of regret in his eyes.

“Over my dead body,” Azriel growled, stepping forward to stand protectively by your side.

Rhysand's voice dropped low but carried a commanding presence. "Azriel."

Cassian moved closer, muscles tense and ready for a fight. "This arrogant bastard just threatened war on Night Court soil," he seethed.

Eris took a step back, his hands raised in surrender. “Cassian, Azriel...this isn't meant to be an attack on either of you or Y/N. We have weighed all our options and this one leaves the least amount of bloodshed.”

Cassian let out a small chuckle. “So your solution is to threaten us in our own home? On our own territory?”

Rhysand stepped forward, shielding Eris from the two winged warriors who were ready to pounce. “Enough.” His voice echoed through the room.

Azriel's gaze hardened on the High Lord. “You agree with him? You're taking his side? The male who we've despised for centuries, who has preyed on our family and even killed his own father, and now you want to send her back with him?” He couldn't hide the disbelief and betrayal in his tone.

Rhysand held his ground, meeting Azriel's fiery gaze with a solemn expression. "I do not take anyone's side, Az," he said evenly, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "Our priority is to find a solution that avoids unnecessary conflict and bloodshed, even if it means making difficult decisions for the good of our citizens."

Azriel's jaw clenched, his wings bristling with tension behind him. His hazel eyes flickered between you and Rhysand, turmoil evident in his features.

Ignoring the charged atmosphere, Eris stepped forward cautiously, his voice surprisingly gentle compared to his usual crass demeanor. "Y/N, I understand this is a lot to take in," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle compared to his usual demeanor. "But please believe me when I say that I do not wish for any harm to come to you.”

You scoffed lightly, “I’m sorry if I come off as apprehensive of your promises of my safety when you’re the one locking me in with wolves.”

Eris' expression softened slightly, a hint of regret crossing his features. "I know this is far from ideal, Y/N, but my hands are tied in this situation," he explained, his tone carrying a genuine note of concern. "I will do everything in my power to ensure your well-being and safety, even if it means making choices that are difficult for both of us."

Azriel's stance remained unwavering, his piercing gaze fixed on Eris with a mix of suspicion and resignation. As he slowly unclenched his fists, the tension in the room only seemed to thicken, suffocating like a heavy fog.

You stood there, assessing the situation with keen eyes, silently studying the face of the High Lord with intense scrutiny. "Explain to me how Philip would be able to depose you so easily," you demanded, your voice laced with anger and disbelief. "Aren't High Lords supposed to have untouchable power?"

Eris sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Having the title of High Lord and some natural abilities does not guarantee absolute rule," he explained.

"My citizens can still deem me unfit to lead and call for my removal. One of my brothers would rise to power and I would be utilized solely for ceremonial purposes."

"And you would just step down without a fight?" Cassian interjected, his hand still tightly gripping his sword.

Eris turned towards the warrior, his feline features reappearing as he tilted his head. "Cassian, have you ever thought about where the funding for our army comes from?"

The general's expression darkened, but it was clear that he had never considered the source of their resources. "Allow me to answer that for you," Eris continued, a sly smile playing on his lips. "The citizens fund everything - the army, social welfare programs, schools...everything. And within every court, there are influential nobles who pour their own wealth into maintaining and developing the country. In the Autumn Court, most of these nobles are of my father's generation and unfortunately, many are more aligned with my brother than myself."

He paused, his voice dripping with mockery. "Those old traditions that the Autumn Court clings to will be their downfall. They'll turn on me at the slightest provocation, declaring me unfit to rule and plunging our country into chaos and war, they have enough money to fund their own armies and militias. And I would be a fool not to step down in order to prevent the bloodshed that would ensue."

Azriel's muscles tensed as he asked through gritted teeth, "Why haven't they done so already? If they truly believe you are a deceitful snake like I do?"

Eris replied coolly, "Tradition is a double-edged sword. As of now, I haven't given them enough reason to depose me and my powers granted by the Mother protect me from baseless accusations."

"So let's say I don't go back with you," you interjected, your voice laced with defiance. "Philip plants his seeds of doubt and they call for your removal. You step down and he takes over as High Lord. What threat do we actually face?"

A dark look crossed Eris' face as he answered, "My brother will tear apart the court piece by piece and rule it with an iron fist even more cruel than our father's. He will resurrect archaic customs of servitude for the poorest individuals, reinstate laws against female autonomy, and much worse. And as for you, Philip will not rest until your supposed obedience is secured. If he rises to power and you refuse to return, he will bring the full might of the Autumn Court's army here to forcefully retrieve you."

“And we will fight them back.” Cassian said, hardening his gaze.

But Rhysand stepped forward, his voice grave. "Cassian, we cannot afford another war. Our peace is already fragile enough. Not to mention this would be a war of modernity against tradition, and while I like to think that we stand for progress, I can't guarantee that the rest of the Night Court would support such a cause. And I'm sure you agree with me when I say that the Illyrians would not be pleased to see their forces dwindling over a family affair involving a female who is not even a full citizen of our court." Rhysand's gaze rested on Cassian and the spymaster could only struggle to find an argument against their High Lord.

They had considered all possible outcomes. If you refused Eris' offer and he made no effort to retrieve you, Philip would have enough ammunition to topple his brother from the throne and plunge the Autumn Court into turmoil. If you refused and Eris did intervene, he would have to use his army which would undoubtedly cause unrest in the Night Court. Whichever way they looked at it, your refusal meant bloodshed.

In your mind, the screams of innocent children echoed through the battlefield, their cries drowned out by the sound of mothers mourning for their lost sons and daughters. The march of soldiers grew louder, a symphony of chaos and destruction fueled by your selfish decision to stay. How could you justify causing so much pain and suffering? With every passing moment, the weight of your decision grew heavier upon your shoulders.

Silence hung like a suffocating fog in the room, interrupted only by the piercing gazes of Rhysand and Eris, their eyes boring into you with calculating intensity. Azriel and Cassian stood between you and the High Lords, their stances tense and ready for any sudden movements. "If I choose to return with you," your voice trembled as you faced Eris, Azriel’s body tightening as the words left your mouth, "would that take away Philip's advantage? Would that guarantee the safety of everyone? He's counting on me not coming back, isn’t he?"

Eris's expression softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his russet eyes. "If you come back willingly, it would indeed weaken Philip's hold over us." His voice was laced with cautious optimism.

"But what does he stand to gain from my return? You said he always plans ahead."

Eris nodded gravely. "That is true. As the only female child among the sons of the Autumn Court, you hold no eligibility for lordship. But as an heir, your ability to bear children opens up countless opportunities for alliances and power plays. Your return also serves as a display of his unwavering commitment to tradition and solidifies his followers' loyalty. And above all, taking something so precious from the Night Court, from Azriel himself... that would be a sweet victory for him." The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders, reminding you once again that in this dangerous world of politics and power struggles, everyone was just a pawn in someone else's game, to be moved at the hands of males who had never experienced the lives they took and gave so easily.

Azriel's hardened jaw contorted with barely-contained rage as his intense gaze bore into the High Lord across the room. The weight of consequences hung heavy over your head, dizzying you with the gravity of what lay ahead. To return to the Autumn Court meant succumbing once again to Caelum, a world where you suffered day in and day out. And worse yet, to be forced to bear his children, to hand over your body and future to Philip and Caelum's plans for their twisted army of younglings had you clutching at your stomach in horror, as though you were trying to cling to that womb inside you that was becoming property to be owned by others. There would be no babe, with those sweet black curls and tiny wings, babbling happily in the bassinet in the room you and Azriel shared. That babe was long gone, slipping through your fingers with each passing second. You had fought so hard, healed so much, learned to laugh and love and feel free, only to have it all snatched away by a male you never chose as your father. Maybe your mother was right to hide you away, maybe she knew the true dangers of males in power. But along with fear came guilt - the knowledge that defying Eris's wishes would lead to innocent bloodshed; the blood of citizens who had finally found their footing thanks to your efforts, and countless more caught in the crossfire between courts. Their blood would stain your hands and haunt your every thought. Could you live with yourself, knowing that you caused so many deaths just for your own desire for freedom?

Eris's voice slices through the air like a sharp knife, breaking your descent into panic. "This situation is wrong and you're standing on the edge of a precipice that you never asked to be on," he says, his words laced with urgency. "I won't force you to make a decision now, but I need to know what you choose, and soon."

You gulp, feeling the weight of his expectations resting heavily on your shoulders.

Eris takes a few steps past you, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence. As he reaches for the doorknob, he calls back over his shoulder, "My apologies won't mean much when it's all said and done, but I want you to know that I truly am sorry."

As Rhysand followed the High Lord of Autumn out, he glared at Cassian and a hollow apologetic look to Azriel. But Azriel was not paying attention to his brother's departure; his gaze was fixed on you, his wings poised behind him like a predator ready to strike. His eyes were filled with despair, agony, and rage as he watched you struggle to stay upright. Your breathing was ragged, you felt every small adjustment your body was making as you tried to remind yourself that you were still in your skin, you still had a choice. But you felt that panic rise up inside of you. In that moment, you turned to Azriel, your eyes brimming with tears but your voice strong and resigned, “Take me home.”

Readers, much love:

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll

@fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx

@romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

@annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd

@scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books

@slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry

@sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra

@skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian @loglady00 @caninne

@weepingwerewolf @that-one-bibliophole @hauntedpiratenacho

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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» The Jealousy «

[ modern! ✦ Aemond x stepsister! ✦ female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, smut, angst, domination, ass slapping, degardation, possessive behaviour, orgasm denial ]

» Rage | Revenge | Relief Special Chapter «

Aemond finally introduces his girlfriend (or actually his fiancée) to his older sibling. To his frustration, Aegon seems to enjoy this acquaintance more than he would like.

This work was created as part of a series The Christmas Drabbles which will consist of ten drabbles taking place after the events of some of my favorite fanfictions. Each of them is concerned with one feeling that dominates the characters at a given moment. This is my little gift to all my fans.

Word counter: 700

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

✦✦✦✦✦

"As I understand it, you and my brother found common ground quickly." He said coolly after locking himself in the bathroom with her, pressing her against the cold tiles, his hand sinking between her thighs, her womanhood increasingly wet from the nimble movements of his fingers.

They could both clearly hear the voices of Aegon, Daeron and Helaena coming from their living room, after Alicent confessed to them what had happened and why Aemond no longer lived with her they pressed on to meet his girlfriend.

Or rather, his fiancée, although he was still looking around for the right ring that he would find beautiful and worthy enough of his beloved future wife.

However, to his frustration, the light-hearted and ironic nature of his elder brother pleased her greatly, and she responded to his sarcastic remarks with a pearly, innocent laugh. Aegon chatted with her with increasing curiosity throughout the evening, even daring to make her another drink while sitting next to her sprawled out on the couch.

He watched this trying to focus on what Helaena was talking about, but to no avail. He felt a growing discomfort in his stomach, his brother sitting closer and closer to her, definitely crossing the line in his eyes.

What enraged him most, however, was her lack of reaction.

"− you've caught his eye − I think he'd like to slide in here −" He hissed, pushing his middle finger inside her, he covered her mouth with his palm hearing her mewl of delight and surprise, he began to slip it in and out her with a loud click of her juices.

"− be fucking quiet − did he turn you on that much? − hm? −" He growled enraged and she shook her head quickly, panting and squirming loudly into his hand, her hips began to move to the rhythm of his finger.

He gasped quietly as he pressed the bulge in his trousers to her buttocks, rubbing against her, feeling his cock throb at this wonderful sight, his heart pounding like mad.

"− sorry, but it's not his cock you'll be hosting in this slutty cunt −" He exhaled angrily, quickly undoing his button and trouser fly, releasing his swollen manhood, using his thumb to push the material of her panties aside.

"− lean forward − fuck, what a view −" He gasped, his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides to help himself, exposing her wet, fleshy, throbbing core before him. He guided the tip of his cock at her and sank confidently into her, the deep, sure thrusts of his hips stretching her tight, hot insides.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to make a sound, breathing loudly as he did, their bodies slamming against each other loud and fast, her body bouncing and shuddering with each of his thrusts.

"− imagine that he's the one fucking you now? − that he is in my place? −" He growled, rooting deep into her with brutal, sharp movements, rubbing her with precision exactly where she needed it, her hands clenched helplessly, her cheek pressed against the cold tiles.

"− no − g-god, Aemond − don't stop −" She mumbled in delight, he sighed low at her words, feeling his cock throb painfully hard in satisfaction, he licked his lower lip dried from the exertion.

"− that's fucking right − made to take my cock −" He muttered between final, desperate thrusts, her lips parted sweetly in surprise, her eyes tightening as she came at his words, clenching down on him so hard that he just let go and cum inside her at last.

"− ah − yes, yes, yes −" She mewled quietly and he panted along with her, delighted, feeling the remnants of his semen fill her hot core, thinking only of the fact that when she came back to them she would be talking to Aegon having his seed deep inside her.

He slid out of her with a murmur of discomfort, looking with satisfaction at their combined juices running down her buttocks, fastening his trousers with a lazy motion.

"I'm waiting for you in the living room. We'll talk again about what happened today later."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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lovemesomeeddiemunson · 9 months ago

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The Proposal - Part 1

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Modern Au, Part 1 of 7. 4291 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Eventual sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack. Minor spoilers for Flight of Icarus.

Authors Note: Hi there! I'm Dom, occasional dabbler in fanfiction. I started writing this story on June 29th, 2024. Roughly 30k in total parts later, and I'm unleashing her piece by piece 😂 This has been a true labor of love, and I hope someone out there enjoys reading it even a fraction of as much as I enjoyed writing it. Steddie forever.

Eddie Munson wakes up on a Monday morning immediately concerned by the amount of sunlight coming into his bedroom.

Scrambling to sit up, his bleary eyes fell on the blinking red numbers of the alarm clock that had definitely reset at some point in the night, and was now mocking him with what was no doubt a wildly inaccurate time.

Filled with dread, he snatches up his wrist watch that's sat in front of it, peering into the little face before he screams, “Fuck!” Launching himself from his bed a moment later, cursing his luck.

He is so late.

He’s got a mere nineteen minutes before he’s supposed to be in the office with his nightmare boss’s morning coffee and protein box, or all hell will break loose.

And with as many soul-crushing years as he’s poured into this job, he’s determined not to lose it over breakfast.

Desperate to save his own ass, he gets ready in record time, rushing out of the door with his work clothes in disarray as he speeds down the busy city street.

He’s cutting it way too close - but he’s hopeful he can make it - right up until he’s forced to skid to a stop as he breaches the front door of the Starbucks.

A long line looms in front of him, the morning rush in full swing by this point of the morning, and his face falls at the sight.

However, before his devastation can fully settle in, he hears the call of “Eddie!” A hand behind the counter shooting up as a voice shouts out. “Your usual!”

Tammy, a barista who’s been serving (and flirting with) him every day for as long as he can remember, smiles brightly as he jumps the line, handing him off two coffee cups in a carrier, along with a bag containing his boss’s breakfast order.

“Oh shit! You literally saved my life! Thank you so much Tammy!” Eddie drops a fifty on the counter from his emergency cash as he goes. The barista titters behind one of her hands at him, pushing a lock of tousled hair behind her ear as he bolts for the office.

He makes it to his building a few minutes later, just barely catching the elevator. Once it shuts behind him, Eddie promptly folds in half, chest heaving, practically wheezing to catch his breath.

Cursing himself for not being in better shape, he dismisses his coworker’s alarmed looks and manages to compose himself by the time he reaches his floor. Rushing out as his coworker Sam shouts “You’re cutting it close!” at him.

“I know! I know!” Eddie’s replying, in such a hurry to get to his desk that he doesn’t account for the slow reflexes of the mailroom employee who’s come up to make his morning delivery.

The two promptly crash into each other, one of the cups of coffee a casualty of their collision.

“Fuck!” Eddie exclaims. The hot liquid is now clinging to his button-down, and he can vaguely see the shape of the death of his career aspirations in the stain starting to form.

“Sorry!” The mailman sheepishly says, looking uselessly for something to clean it with before Eddie waves him off, muttering about how he was equally to blame.

Even so. Lamenting his no good, terrible, very bad, morning, he rushes to his coworkers cubicle, saying in lieu of greeting to him, “I need the shirt off your back, literally.”

Patrick, it seems, could not care any less, looking disdainfully at Eddie’s ruined button down. “You’re kidding, right?”

Eddie doesn’t have time for this. He resorts to bribery. “Red Hot Chili Peppers. This Friday. Two tickets and company VIP passes for your shirt. You have five seconds to decide.” Glances at the clock and starts to count down. “Five, four-“

“Deal.” Patrick mutters before popping the buttons of his shirt, and shrugging it off. Eddie does the same, giving him the stained shirt and donning the clean one as he starts to hear small pinging sounds throughout the office, notifications going from desktop to desktop.

Just as Eddie is buttoning the last of the buttons, pulling his long hair from where it had gotten stuck in one of them from his haste, he dives into his chair, reading the chat that pops up from @Samantha.Stone that reads, HBIC incoming!

The rest of the office reacts to her message accordingly. High heels are slipped on in place of comfortable flats, pocket mirrors are pulled out to make sure eyeliner is just so and that there’s no incriminating spinach in between teeth. Casual magazines are shoved away and spreadsheets pulled up - rosaries are clutched tight and prayed with. Like it’ll help.

At Sam’s warning, Eddie takes his place outside of the glass doors to his boss’s office. Righting himself, he straightens out his clothing and fixes his hair, holding out the coffee cup that was supposed to be his in one hand and the plastic breakfast box in the other.

Lo and behold, moments later, just as Sam had forewarned, the demon himself appears.

Steve fucking Harrington.

With his perfect untouchable hair and pristine suit, his discerning hazel eyes are locked in on his phone, not even noticing the fake smile Eddie puts on as he approaches, his walk brisk and evenly measured as Eddie chirps. “Morning boss! You have a half an hour until your conference call.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from his phone as he nods in disinterest, leaving Eddie with the task of handing him the hot coffee and breakfast all while taking his bag from him, without dropping anything.

“Yes I know.” He replies dryly.

“Staff meeting at 9.” Eddie continues, as he walks into the office behind him, Steve settling into his large leather chair.

“Did you call… um…” Steve groans, spinning said chair to face the desk, “Uh, what’s her name? The one with the ugly hands?” He snaps his fingers repeatedly as if that will speed the answer along.

“Yes.” Eddie offers. Knowing who he means, nodding as he passes him a stack of papers.

Steve goes into it immediately, flipping post-its and thumbing through pages. Eddie continues, “Yes, I did call her. I told her your thoughts about her client's new album and the deadline for getting the finalizations to the sound engineers.”

Steve hands some of the papers back to him, straightening the remainders as Eddie goes on about the tasks on the agenda for today. “Also, your immigration lawyer called. He said it’s imperative that you-” Eddie’s words come to a stop when Steve raises his hand.

“Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets.” Steve pauses in his work, a bit of smugness to his tone as he adds. “Oh, and get a hold of PR, have them start drafting a press release. The little songbird my colleagues so generously called ‘unattainable’ is now performing at the Grammys.”

Eddie’s eyes widened in awe. No matter how much of a terror his boss was, he was impressive in his own right, “Wow. Nicely done.” He compliments.

Steve scoffs, turning in his chair to his computer screen, all confidence and bitchiness as he replies. “If I want your praise, I will ask for it.”

Eddie takes the words as a dismissal. Steve wasn’t going to ever actually ask him for praise. Eddie’s praise didn’t mean shit to someone like Steve.

So he goes, and as he does so, Steve moves to drink his coffee, pausing when he notices something unusual on his cup.

He clears his throat to catch his subordinate’s attention and Eddie stops walking, pausing in the doorway.

“Who is— who is Tammy Thompson? And why does she want me to call her?” Steve’s eyebrows are raised as he turns the coffee cup to show the side where it says, Call me! Above a phone number, signed enthusiastically by said Tammy Thompson, with a sharpie heart.

Eddie pales at the sight. Floundering as he timidly explains. “Well… that was originally my cup.”

Steve looks down at the cup with scorn, voice dull. “And I’m drinking your coffee why?”

Eddie is grappling. “Because your coffee spilled.”

Steve takes a sip, and after doing so, his tone becomes accusatory. “So, you drink lavender oat milk lattes?” He asks.

“I do.” Eddie nods.

Steve smirks at him then, “Is that a coincidence?”

“Incredibly, it is.” The phone rings, and Eddie feels a small semblance of security that he can keep his job a little while longer as he crosses the room to answer it, “I mean, I wouldn’t possibly drink the same coffee you drink just in case yours spilled. That would be pathetic.” Eddie chuckles, voice laced with sarcasm as he picks up the phone.

“Good morning, Mr. Harrington’s office.” Eddie greets.

“Hey, Munson. It’s Hargrove.” Eddie hears as he spares a glance at Steve - who's already found something else to scrutinize if his back being to him with his fingers clicking away at the keyboard is any indication.

“Hey, Mr. Hargrove.” Eddie responds, his words causing Steve to turn around abruptly, with a wicked smile that immediately unsettles him.

“Just confirming Steve and I are still on for our 8:10, this morning. He emailed me about it last night.”

Eddie looks at Steve with a confused expression, answering reflexively although he had no prior knowledge of this meeting. “Actually, we’re headed to your office right now.” He puts the phone down when Billy’s line goes dead.

“Why are we headed to Hargrove’s office?” He questions Steve, who gives him a dry look in response that Eddie interprets as ‘What’s it to you? You do as I say.’

A fair point if he’s being honest. And, rather than wait for an answer that won’t come, Eddie rushes ahead of Steve, beating him out of the door with a second to spare as he gets to his keyboard, working quickly to send a message office wide.

@Edward_Munson: *is typing…*

Dings sound as his message goes out.

HE’S ON THE MOVE!

The notification spreads, alerting the whole floor as they all scramble to pretend to be working just as Steve comes strutting out of his office.

Eddie follows him at a quick pace, trying to ignore his brain playing the imperial march after them as he takes advantage of this rare moment where Steve has nothing in front of him to ask, “Have you listened to my demo yet?”

“Uh, I listened to the first few songs.” Steve responds, surprised, before the cool expression comes back, “I wasn’t that impressed.”

Eddie sighs, disappointment stinging as he bites his lip, “Can I say something?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “No.”

Eddie persists, “I know my music, okay? There’s an album here. A good one - the kind of album you used to produce.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Uh, wrong. Also, don’t ever imply that I don’t still produce good albums, and, for what it’s worth, I do think you order the same coffee as me, just in case you spill. Which is, in fact, pathetic.”

“Or impressive.” Eddie counters weakly.

“It’d be impressive if you didn’t spill it in the first place.” As they approach the office they're aiming for, he reminds Eddie, “Now remember, you’re just a prop in here.”

“Won’t say a word.” Eddie mutters, and follows Steve inside as he waltzes right up to their coworkers desk, the other man barely looking up to acknowledge him.

Ouch. Eddie knows Steve won’t take that lightly…and his stomach becomes unsettled by the display of testosterone he knows he’s about to witness.

They get right to it.

“Our fearless leader, and his right hand man.” William “Billy” Hargrove jeers, still without pausing whatever it is he’s doing on his laptop. “So nice of you to visit my office.”

“Ah.” The side of Steve’s mouth quirks up in a smile, eyeing his office furniture. “Nice desk. Is it new?”

“It is. Handcrafted. No one does artisanship like the Italians.” Billy replies without looking up.

His statement, in their present company, could have easily been misconstrued as flattery - but Eddie knows better. Billy Hargrove doesn’t care enough to appeal to Steve, and so if he’s saying it, he must truly believe it.

Not that it would have worked anyways. Steve takes in his answer as he laments with a small sigh, mumbling “So true.” Like the fact of it is tragic, before he leads right into his next thought, with no hesitation or sympathy, declaring, “Billy, I am letting you go.”

Hargrove looks up from his computer then - eyes wide with disbelief, and even Eddie - who thought he knew Steve well - is looking at Steve with barely contained shock.

“Excuse me?” Billy repeats, glancing at Eddie who expertly avoids his eyes as he closes the door in order to stop anyone from listening in on their conversation.

Billy looks back at their boss as Steve goes on. “I asked you over a dozen times to get the performer I wanted for the Grammys, and you didn’t do it. You didn’t even try, did you?”

“T-They’re unattainable-“ the other man stammers.

“And yet just this morning, I attained them.” Steve replied. Clicking his tongue in disappointment.

“But…” Billy starts.

Steve smiles sarcastically, nodding, “I know. I know. Celebrities can be a little scary. For you. That’s okay.” He placates.

Moving across the office as he makes the other man an offer. “Now, I will give you two months to find another job, and then you can tell everyone that you resigned, okay?”

Satisfied with his own generosity, Steve turns toward Eddie, motioning for him to open the door. They both walk out of the office hastily.

Once they’re out of ear shot, his boss’ eyes shift to Eddie, walking at his side. “What's his 20?” Steve whispers at him, making Eddie look back for him.

Behind them, Billy’s pacing in his office like a caged animal, pulling at his hair. “He’s moving. He has crazy eyes.” Eddie whispers back as he tries to match Steve’s steps.

Steve frowns deeply, still whispering. “Don’t do it, Billy. Don’t do it.”

But it happens. Moments later, Billy charges out of the office screaming. “You son of a bitch!” The exclamation followed by collective gasping from onlookers.

Steve and Eddie stop walking, both of them turning to Billy even as the pitying look settles across Steve’s face.

“You can’t fire me!” Billy yells. “You don’t think I can see what you’re doing here? Setting me up so you can get rid of me and make yourself look like a hero to the board!” Billy points, “Because you are threatened by me!”

Steve's face changes then - pity turning to amusement as he breaks out in a playful smile in answer to Billy continuing on his rant, “You are a monster.”

“Billy, stop.” Steve says, that smile being redirected as he looks reassuringly to the other employees that have started to watch the commotion. Ever the picture of ease, even as Billy hurls insults at him.

Billy goes on. “Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves.” Billy moves closer. “You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’ll have on your deathbed?”

He’s near enough to them now that Eddie can see split flying, the assistant flinching as he snarls “Nothing and no one.”

But while Eddie winces at his words, Steve just lets out a sympathetic noise, moving closer until the two men are toe to toe, his answering voice honey sweet.

“Listen carefully, Billy. I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened. No.” Billy glances around the office in arrogant disbelief, as if aid will be found there.

Steve continues. “I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent, and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in your office.” Billy’s eyes widen as Steve goes on. “And if you say another word, Eddie here is going to have you thrown out on your ass, okay?”

Billy opens his mouth to object, but Steve continues, “Another word. Another word and you’re out of here with an armed escort. Eddie will film it with his camera phone, and put it online. Is that what you want?”

Billy gives the two of them murderous glares, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Didn’t think so.” When he’s satisfied, Steve finally turns his back on them, walking down the hall.

Eddie is glued to him like his shadow as Steve instructs him flatly, “Have the interns take his desk and move it to my office.”

“Will do.” Eddie replies.

“Also, I need you around this weekend to help review his clients.” He adds, Eddie stumbling to a stop.

“This weekend?” He repeats in surprise.

“You have a problem with that?” Steve glares.

Eddie stutters, “No. I - Just - it’s my uncle’s 65th birthday so I was gonna go home and-'' Steve waves a hand dismissively, clearly having been rhetorical in his asking as he heads into his office, not even listening to what Eddie’s saying as he stutters through promising to cancel and be available to Steve.

Then Eddie deflates.

He hasn’t made it home for a birthday since Wayne’s 60th - back before he started this godforsaken job. And now he has to tell him that he’ll be missing another.

He knows Wayne will understand. He always does. But it doesn’t change the fact that Eddie works for the devil.

The old man tells him as much on a call around lunch, suggesting, as he always does, that he quit if it’s making him miserable.

Eddie launches into his usual defense, until he sees Steve approaching, and then he’s changing his tone, using his customer service voice dismissively - feigning aiding a client - before quickly getting off the call.

“That your family?” Steve asks bitterly. No misapprehension on his end. Not even for a moment.

Eddie puts the phone on the receiver. Doesn’t lie. “Yes.”

“They tell you to quit?” He presses.

“Every single day.” Eddie replies, and then without missing a beat, picks up the phone as it rings. “Mr. Harrington’s office.” He greets, eyes still on Steve. His loyal devotee.

A woman’s voice on the other end of the phone overshadows Steve’s gloom as she tells him. “Hello, this is the office of Mr. Holloway. He’d like to speak to Mr. Harrington in his office as soon as possible, please.”

“Oh. Okay. All right.” The two hang up.

“Holloway wants to see you upstairs immediately.” He tells Steve.

Steve groans in reply, “Fine. Come and get me in ten minutes with an excuse. We’ve got a lot to do.”

Steve repeats it as he walks away, like Eddie is an idiot, despite him not failing him once in years. “Ten minutes.”

“Okay.” Eddie answers, trying not to look at Steve’s ass as he heads to the elevators. And failing spectacularly, as he always does.

While he’s gone, Eddie stares at the clock as it ticks to the next minute. After five, he heads upstairs. He whispers a quick hello to Nicole, Mr. Holloway’s secretary, before hesitating outside of the office to the company president, waiting to interrupt down to the minute.

Once it has been ten minutes exactly, he knocks, the voices inside halting before Mr. Holloway, is yelling for him to come in.

He pokes his head inside, still holding the door open, only to find the both men in pause, Steve turning his head at him, as Mr. Holloway sees who it is, his expression mildly perturbed.

“We’re in a meeting.” He says in a clipped tone, but Eddie is infinitely more afraid of displeasing Steve than someone who at least must have a shred of human understanding in him.

He musters his most charming smile, “Sorry to interrupt.” Rattling off his excuse, he notes how Steve’s whole body seems to unload some of its usual tension, his whole demeanor changing.

Steve’s looking at him with relief, and Eddie is put off by it, by the way Steve catches his eye as he mouths “Come here,” when Eddie is done speaking, his head jerking forward for Eddie to come in.

Eddie obeys immediately, coming over from where he was standing at the door, walking slowly to Steve’s side as he watches Tom watch the two of them.

Steve turns back to Mr. Holloway, “Tom I understand… I understand the predicament that we are in.”

“And—” Steve spares him another look. “And…there’s…well, I mean…There’s something that you should know.” Steve clears his throat, building to this information as he looks at Eddie.

Then Steve declares, “We’re getting married.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Who’s getting married?” He whispers, his incredulous question said loud enough for only him to hear. Steve smiles at him, the dazzling version he reserves for clients. But not Eddie. Never Eddie.

“You and I, sweetheart. We’re getting married.” He nearly whispers back. Like it wasn’t news to them both.

Steve nods as if he has further settled into this idea, looking back to their boss as he repeats. “We’re getting married. Eddie and I.”

Then Steve gives him a familiar look - one that has always meant ‘Do this or I’ll fire you.’

Eddie suddenly finds that he can’t nod fast enough. “Yes! Yes!”

He looks back at Mr. Holloway as well as he confirms, “We are getting married.” The words feel clunky in his mouth.

And maybe it’s a joke, a misunderstanding, a test of loyalty that surely he’s going to pass?

Only the company president hesitates at his confirmation, addressing Steve as he asks in slight amusement but wholehearted confusion. “Isn’t he… your secretary?”

“Executive assistant.” Eddie butts in to clarify, like it makes any difference at all.

Steve laughs heartily, going for the kill. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries. Would it, Tom?”

Tom gives him a wry sort of ‘you-got-me-there’ smile when he mentions it - Steve bringing to recall a similar event transpiring with his (third?) wife.

“So, yeah…The truth is, you know, Eddie and I. We’re…we are uh, just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love, but we did. All those late nights at the office, the music…” Steve squeezes Eddie’s arm then and continues, “I tried to fight it, and well, you can’t fight a love like this.”

Tom actually looks satisfied and Steve clears his throat. “So… Are we good - with this? Are you happy? Because we are happy.” Steve gestures to the two of them, “So happy.”

Tom smiles, voice soft. “Steve. It’s terrific.” He raises his hand, displaying his own wedding ring. “Just make it legal. Mmm?”

“Of course! We uh, we need to get ourselves to the immigration office, huh? Straighten this whole mess out.” Steve chuckles, bidding him goodbye before the two head back to their own floor, Eddie’s thoughts a whirlwind.

Eddie tries to follow Steve’s fast footsteps. They’re not even on their floor yet, and the news has already spread.

Computers ding with notifications, sounding off behind them as they go, the entire office looking at the two of them, unable to hold their whispers until they pass. Patrick snickers at him, making lewd gestures as he passes, his shirt stained with coffee.

Eddie wordlessly follows Steve into his office, closing the door behind him, and watches as his boss exhales a sigh, sitting on his desk and looking at Eddie expectantly - like they were here for a planned meeting and not like he didn’t just announce their engagement.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Reminds himself of why he works here. With this sociopath. Then he tells said sociopath, “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“This is for you too.” Steve replies, as though it’s all so simple.

“Do explain.” Eddie deadpans.

“I was going to be deported, and they were going to give Billy my job.” Steve says, like it makes all the senses in the world.

“So, naturally, I would have to marry you.” Eddie gapes, tone as sarcastic as possible.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Steve is being sarcastic now too, “Were you saving yourself for someone special?”

Eddie is mildly offended at what Steve is implying. “I’d like to think so. Plus, you know, it’s illegal.”

Steve chuckles, “They’re looking for terrorists, not for music producers.”

“Steve.” Eddie grits out, hoping his voice is coming out firm.

“Yes?” Steve answers nonchalantly, like they’re just having another conversation about his job performance.

“I’m not going to marry you.” Eddie insists.

“Sure you are.” Steve snaps back, “Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of touching people’s lives with your lyrical prowess are dead.”

Eddie’s jaw actually drops. Steve bulldozes ahead and breaks it down for him. “Billy is going to fire you the second I’m gone. Guaranteed. Which leaves you unemployed and connectionless in the music industry, begging producers to listen to some no-name’s track. That means that all the time that we spent together - all the lattes, all the canceled dates, all the midnight Excedrin runs, were all for nothing, and you can kiss being any kind of a musician goodbye.”

He continues, as though all hope is not lost. “But don’t worry, after the required allotment of time, we’ll get a quickie divorce, and you’ll be done with me. But until then, like it or not, you are mine. Okay?”

He’s his.

The phone rings from Eddie’s desk. Steve gestures pointedly out the door, “Phone’s ringing.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself other than exit the office and pick it up.

“Good morning, Mr. Harrington’s office.” He says robotically.

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