#i am so sorry i have been gone life is wild and i am not on this blog very often but god the love you guys give me <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[chelseeebe]

too sweet (for me)

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of violence and drugs. eddie is a dick but not when it comes to r <333 :} female!reader

eddie munson had been hardened by life. how could one night possibly demolish all of the walls he had spent so long building?

a/n: sorry for being mia again lol i am trying i swear!! i have another eddie fic coming that i love and probably the other parts to the steve zombie au! i’m usually never busy but these last few weeks have been wild

read part two here.

the club is too loud, too busy and too sweaty. eddie wasn’t a fan, never had been.

he squeezes past the crowd, grumbling to himself as he goes. eddie preferred to be in bed by three. his mom was very spiritual and had drilled into him that nothing good could come out of being awake at the witching hour.

something or someone knocks into him, or vice versa, he can’t really tell. it’s too dark and he’s had too much to even really care.

“watch it,” you snap, twisting around to send the dirtiest glare.

“what the fuck? you bumped into me,” he shouts over the loud thumping beat. immediately wishing he could swallow his words, noticing your eyes narrow, sizing him up. you’re the prettiest girl in this place, the only one he’s even looked at twice and now you hated him.

“whatever asshole,” you snarl, before continuing your way to the busy bar.

eddie hesitates for a moment before shoving through the path you’d made, angering another ten people on his way. he didn’t care, that couldn’t be your only impression of him.

he catches up, squeezing into the tiny space next to you, leaning against the sticky marble as you wait patiently.

his hand brushes your arm, earning another sly glance, face screwing up as you realise he’d tailed you to the bar.

“sorry,” he starts, not giving you the opportunity to tell him to fuck off first. “i wanted to apologise.. i was rude,” tongue resting on his bottom lip, appreciating the new found lighting and how it made you glow.

“you were,” smiling pointedly, eyes trailing down his chest, “but you can buy me a drink to make up for it.”

eddie stares, mouth agape at your brutal, up-front attitude before it turns to a tiny smirk, “i think that’s fair,” honestly he admired it. the only girl in here worth a second glance.

“vodka,” you add, making room for him to order.

he takes one last admiring look at you before turning to the bartender.

you tunnel your way back through the crowd, your friends long gone by now. eddie didn’t mind keeping you company, not one bit.

his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you gently back towards him. rightfully earning another scathing glare as you stop, inches in front of him.

“you’re not gonna even tell me your name?” he leans in, smirking as he does.

your lips brush against his ear, name soft as silk as you mutter into his hair. it sends shivers down his spine, wanting your lips on his ear and his neck.

“eddie,” he replies, resting his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close in the packed club.

“are you a dancer, eddie?” the way his name rolls off of your tongue makes him unfathomably crazy.

“not really,” he mumbles, tongue poking out of his lips.

“too bad,” your smirk, pulling towards the bustling dance floor before he can argue against it.

he didn’t like clubbing nor dancing but if you insist, he couldn’t say no.

the music ripples around him, hazy when all he can focus on is you and the way your hips twist in time to the beat. you’re not even trying and yet he’s completely encapsulated by your body.

there’s an attempt at dancing along with you, though he’s not any good. itching to just place his hands on your waist and let you guide him.

the purple light catches your eye as you move closer, eddie’s eyes latched onto you the entire time.

“you’re really not a dancer, are ya’?” you lean in to whisper.

“can’t help it, i’m distracted,” he purrs, daring to place his hand on the small of your back.

you purse your lips, keeping whatever snarky comment to yourself.

fuck it.

“d’you wanna get out of here?” eddie asks, “i know a place.”

your brow quirks, “hm? how do i know you won’t kidnap me?”

he tilts his head, meeting your eye, “you’ll just have to trust me,” offering his hand for you to take, eager to get you out of this club.

really, he’d go anywhere if it meant he could look at you properly without getting elbowed in the back by sweaty drunks.

you hesitate for a split second, which he supposes is fair, before placing your hand in his, permission to lead you from the dance floor and out into the chilly night.

your arms wrap around yourself, shivering in the cold.

eddie doesn’t hesitate, taking his jacket off and placing it around your shoulders. “it’s not far from here.. we can walk?”

your eyes narrow once more, pulling his jacket tighter, “lead the way, eddie.”

he knows you’re trying to taunt him, maybe rile him up a little and by god is it working. taking your hand once more as you start the walk to his apartment, anticipating coursing through his veins.

-

the elevator ride up to his floor is hell, fingers twitching to touch you. he’d do it too, if you were alone. plagued with one of his neighbours just trying to get home as you hang off of his arm.

eddie’s thankful his floor is first, losing the will to not just grab you right then and there.

your mouth falls open, eyes flitting around the apartment he definitely didn’t pay someone else to decorate for him.

“you live here?”

eddie didn’t grow up around money. he lived in a trailer for most of his life, cramped into the tiny home with his uncle in some dead end town until he finally found the nerve to move himself to chicago.

there were dreams of a music career that wilted away pretty quickly after he realised that there were a hundred and one other screwed up teens just like him, all wanting the same thing.

selling drugs wasn’t exactly his chosen path but he’d sold a little weed in high school and found he wasn’t awful at it and now here he was.

with more money than he knew what to do with and a reputation for being a hard ass.

he doesn’t entertain your amazement, sidling over to you with his hands already finding their place to your waist.

“the bedroom’s even better,” eddie smirks, feeling your fingers twist around his t-shirt.

“go ‘head,” half-smile on your pretty lips.

your body brushes against his as you trail behind, not wanting to waste another second. he hasn’t even kissed you yet, has no idea how addicting you’ll taste, the slight hint of vanilla in your smudged lipgloss.

expertly twisting you around, stumbling over just slightly before he catches you, planting his lips on yours, manoeuvring your entwined bodies around the darkened room.

he’s done this dance a hundred times, but something about you feels different. you’re mailable, trusting in his hands to guide you to the bed while your hands sit atop his shoulders.

falling back onto the mattress, tugging him down atop of your body, fingers clawing at his collar while his hands roam your body, grabbing at your hips and waist.

eddie haphazardly reaches for the lamp, disconnecting your lips for a brief moment before the orange hue fills the room.

you groan in response, sprawled out on the mattress underneath him.

“i wanna see you,” he remarks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before he kisses you properly again. a full battle between teeth and tongues, barely catching against one another, lips wet with each other.

you sigh softly into his mouth when his hand travels beneath your dress, sliding between your aching thighs, panties already wet and begging to be torn off.

he doesn’t though, wanting to draw this out just a tiny bit longer, removing his fingers from your heat to toy with the hem of your dress.

“fuck,” you gasp, breaking away from his lips, “don’t be mean,” swollen bottom lip jutting out to make it all that much worse.

“okay,” eddie laughs quietly, “i’m done,” sticking to his word as your dress comes down in one rough tug, grunting as he does so.

he sits up on his knees, admiring the sight of your quivering body below. “worth it,” he remarks, tearing off his own t-shirt, and launching it across the room somewhere.

his jeans are next, shaking them off of his leg as they land on the floor with a soft thud.

your hand instinctively covers your chest, shying away from his hungry gaze.

“nuhuh,” eddie bites, pulling your arm away, pinning it underneath his as he comes back to your level, hovering just above. “don’t do that.”

you blink, pulling him closer with your free hand. the cat and mouse routine had been going on far too long, even for him. feeling your heat against his cock, almost painful to the touch as it strains his boxers.

“well if you hurried up..” you start, tilting your chin towards him with a tiny smirk.

eddie laughs loudly, yanking your panties down abruptly, “alright sweetheart, i hear ya,” returning his hand to between your thighs, spreading you open with his middle finger before sliding the digit in.

you huff in response, mouth falling open as that melodic tone he’s been waiting for falls from your lips, dancing around his ears.

your head falls back against the soft pillow, opening your legs further as he shifts fully in between, biting down onto his bottom lip.

“that better?” pumping his finger between your slick folds, your breath quivering with every move.

you nod quickly, readjusting your grip on his shoulder, taking a deep breath when his thumb finds your clit.

he can’t hold off any longer, pulling his fingers out and tugging his boxers down, cock springing up against his stomach.

“mhm,” he groans, teasing your sopping cunt with the tip of his already leaking cock, lapping up every last whine of appreciation you let slip.

eddie slides in, staggered breaths as he pauses, adjusting his position to allow his hand to find your hand, fingers intertwining while you huff into his ear.

“shit,” he utters, slowly thrusting his hips, gripping your hand tighter, pressing you into the mattress.

he wouldn’t have fucked around so much if he knew this is what you’d feel like.

your thighs squeeze around his waist, the soft skin encasing him. goading him on with your sweet breathless whines, repeating his name like gospel.

working his way to the hilt, debating why he could just sit there for a while with his cock buried deep inside of you or not.

your fingers twist around his curls, gently tugging on the messy mop atop of his head.

whimpering into the tiny shared space between your faces, your eyes fighting to stay open. cheeks warm and flushed, incoherent babbling trailing from your mouth.

“you.. you feel fuckin’ insane,” eddie growls, wishing he could swallow that familiar twist in his stomach, keep this going forever and ever.

the air is warm, filthy sounds of his skin against yours fill the room as you desperately move your hips against his. loosely connecting your lips in a hazy kiss, he can feel you tighten around him, whimpers strained and needy as you near your orgasm.

“ahh fuck,” eddie mewls, burying his head into the delicate skin of your neck, leaving lazy kisses in the crook. hoping he can hold out for just a minute more while you tremble around him. coming undone right beneath his body.

you hum into his ear, running your fingers along his scalp, pulling gently on his hair.

eddie can’t stop himself any longer, pulling his cock out of your cunt before he cums, letting his release cover your thigh instead.

your nails continue to trace through his hair while his mouths babbles a bunch of nonsensical bullshit into your neck, surely condemned by a life in hell for the blasphemous shit he was saying.

coaxing his head out of the comfort of your skin to gaze into his tired eyes, your heartbeats coinciding with one another.

instead of saying anything, you grin, laughing quietly to yourself. eddie thinks you’re crazy and yet, he’s sure he might’ve just fallen in love.

-

eddie feels like a creep, watching as you sleep, your leg twisted somewhere between his making him terrified to even think about moving.

he doesn’t want to startle you, in fact he doesn’t really want this to end. he knows that once you wake, he’ll be lucky to see you again.

maintaining relationships wasn’t exactly a skill he possessed.

you stir sometime later, feeling your way up his chest as you come around. maybe you’d think he was a freak, maybe you’d regret it and decide to file a restraining order or something.

“morning,” you croak, lips plump with sleep, eyes barely open as they peep at the other side of the bed.

“hi,” wanting to cringe at his complete lack of charm.

“you talk in your sleep,” you say pointedly, shadows of a smile on your lips.

“oh really? what was i saying?”

you shrug, “something about a fire,” scrunching your nose up. idyllic as you bask in the morning light, a real picture of beauty.

“a fire? that’s weird, i was dreaming about you,” undecided whether it were too much too soon.

you curl away from him, shying into the pillow when a bang at the door interrupts everything, damn near rattling his entire apartment.

you look to him again, confusion threading your brows together, “who’s that?” worry seeping through your tone.

“i don’t know,” well, he had a pretty good idea of who it probably was and he most definitely didn’t want to deal with that right now.

they bang again, eddie unfurling his arm from your waist, “i’ll be two minutes,” frowning to himself as he pulls his boxers on.

as expected, gareth and jeff stand outside, gormless as their eyes fall to his bare legs.

“woah,” gareth exclaims, eyes wide.

“what d’you two want?”

“you not gonna invite us in?” jeff presses, still marvelling at his legs.

“no.”

“why?” gareth peers into the apartment, “who’ve you got in there?”

“your mom,” eddie quips, “why are you here?”

the two idiots share a look, half-offended, half trying to figure out if eddie was telling the truth or not.

“well-“ they come closer, “we’ve got that shipment.. for the thing,” brows wiggling, “couple’a weeks and it’ll be in.”

this leads to eddie closing the door further round, in fear of you overhearing. he’s not sure how well received that’d be on your first morning together.

“shh,” he hisses, looking around the very empty corridor, “you couldn’t have told me this later?”

they shake their heads in unison, “murray said to let you know, no phones.. no paper trail.”

eddie searches both of their blank faces before nodding, “alright.. alright, you can go now.”

they oblige but not before jeff grabs his crotch, winking at eddie which makes him slightly uncomfortable and letting out an almost inaudible have fun before disappearing into the elevator.

the urge to knock their heads together had never been stronger, returning to his apartment to find you stood in the middle of his bedroom, staring at the pictures on his dresser.

“i used to be cute, right?” he knows exactly which one you’re looking at, startling at the sound of his voice.

you turn, still holding onto the frame, “is that your mom?”

“mhm,” he hums, taking the frame from your grasp, “she..” clearing his throat, “she died when i was younger,” tracing his thumb over the image of her crazy hair.

“oh,” you frown, looking at him with pitiful eyes, “i’m sorry.”

he shakes his head, hair falling out of the loose bun he’d thrown up, “don’t apologise,” placing the photo back in it’s rightful place, “she was sick,” turning to you with his half-moon eyes.

he wishes he hadn’t even said it, the look on your face was too woeful, especially after the large grin you’d had plastered on it just this morning.

eddie sniffs, jumping to action, “get dressed,” he practically orders, wanting nothing more than to change the subject, “we’re going out,” telling, rather than asking.

“where?”

he shrugs, opening the large closet which mostly consisted of plain black tees and his jeans.

“i don’t have any clothes.. or my toothbrush, give me an hour and-“

interrupted by a shirt flying over, just about catching it before it lands on the ground, “wear mine, there’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom,” eddie nods, sliding into his own clothes.

you stare dumbfounded at the cotton, before glancing back at him, “uh.. i don’t- what if people think..”

he turns, smile already peaking through, “if people think what? that we fucked? oh no,” riddled with sarcasm.

“you’re not funny,” you pout though you shimmy into the t-shirt, “i didn’t mean that i just..” trailing off into silence.

eddie’s eyes widen, something about seeing you in his shirt invigorated something within.

“don’t look at me like that,” shying away though there was really no need. he’d seen it all already.

“i can’t help it,” he remarks, standing wide-eyed.

your eyes roll in return, turning away to slip into his sweats though that makes everything worse. eddie instantly jumps to grab you, squeezing your arms against your sides, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you.

“maybe breakfast can wait,” growling into your ear, tripping over your legs as he barrels towards the bed.

-

eddie sighs, eyeing the seemingly stagnant clock on the dash. he knows you get off at three, toying with the idea of telling you he’s coming to get you or just turning up outside your building.

he figures he’s close enough that he won’t bother, shifting into drive. you’d only seen each other yesterday but he couldn’t get enough.

girls came and went in his life, never sticking around long enough for him to really get to know them. it felt different this time, he was itching to be with you, this constant need to be near you, with you. it scared him deep down, turning his stomach at the thought of someone actually meaning something to him.

he watches the door like a hawk, positioned outside so that you can’t possibly miss him.

it’s five after three by the time you emerge from the grand door, closely followed by who he assumes are your co-workers. eyes narrowing at the sight of the spindly guy following behind.

eddie clocks the exact moment you spot him, ducking your head as you break away from the group and slide into the passenger seat.

“what’re you doing here?” you flush, though your smile is evident, creeping onto his own face.

“i can’t come pick you up from work?”

you shrug, still coy as your co-workers dawdle, staring into the car with eager eyes.

“why’re you so shy all of a sudden? not even gonna kiss me?” eddie teases, feeling the eyes of your colleagues hot on his face.

“shut up,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

he takes this as a challenge, leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to yours, waiting for your approval before embarrassing you any further.

your lips lock onto his before he can think about it, deciding to turn the innocent kiss into what he can only describe as a sloppy, over exaggerated makeout session. something similar to his first attempts at kissing.

you pull back, groaning in disgust, averting your eyes from the nosy gaggle of colleagues that still stood gawping.

mission accomplished.

eddie grins before speeding away, not bothering to acknowledge them another time.

you want to be annoyed, eddie can tell. tutting in your seat as if you didn’t enjoy that just as much as he did.

“who was that? your boyfriend?” only half-joking.

there’s another sigh, “i wish,” as you mess around with the dials on the dash.

eddie would normally smack your hand away but for you, he couldn’t.

an absolute sucker for the way your fingers danced around the tortoise shell interior, making yourself comfortable in his car like you should.

-

“you’ve never been to brunch?” you fret, looking at him with pure amazement over the table.

“no,” eddie chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee, “why would i?”

“why wouldn’t you?” smiling wide.

there’s been a lot of firsts for eddie these past few weeks.

you’d dragged him for a walk around the park in front of his complex, perplexed that he’d never even bothered. he’d been into a florist for the first time, hand picking some overpriced bouquet just for you.

he shakes his head, shrugging. there wasn’t any time for brunch when you had to move kilos of cocaine for rich aristocrats.

“you don’t live,” you scoff, sipping on your 11am mimosa as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

it’s ridiculous how soft you make him feel. he’d do brunch in some gentrified neighbourhood every day if it meant you smiled at him like that.

everything about you is too sweet, your clothes, the perfume you doused yourself in, the lipstick stains you’d leave behind on shared cigarettes. even last week when you’d made him stop for some cat food for the tiny stray that hung around your garden. who does that?

“some of us have to work, sweetheart,” eddie teases, shuffling around on the far-too-fancy chair.

“i work,” you hit back, “only difference is that what i do, isn’t illegal,” whispering the last part of your sentence, smug as you take a drink.

he looks on in pure awe. the fact that you could speak to him like that and yet still end up his favourite person was a miracle in and of itself.

“d’you want me to pay for your fuckin’ brunch or not?”

“i can pay f’myself,” you huff.

“but i don’t want you to.”

your eyes glint, pursing your lips to the side, “i don’t want to either.”

-

eddie’s already trembling in the car, murray droning on about the importance of gloves next to him. this all seemed like a good idea a couple of weeks ago and now his stomach flipped with every turn.

that was before he had something to lose, before he met you.

maybe weeks of you loosening him up had ruined him. the soft life was a dream in comparison to this. the complete fear coursing through his veins was enough to make him never want to leave the serene calm of your arms ever again.

a couple of years ago he was just some kid selling weed to the losers that hung around the block and now he’s clutching a pistol, contemplating whether he’d survive if he just jumped out of the car.

murray wouldn’t let him. he’d find him, make him pay for being such a pussy.

eddie’s eyes fall shut, head lolling back against the seat, conjuring up images of you in his head. if he had to do it, he also had to make it out alive.

for you.

-

a ringing bellows through his head, fumbling with the keys as his fingers shake.

he couldn’t remember if you were at work tonight, hoping you wouldn’t have to see this. get pulled into his ridiculous life.

eddie stumbles through the door, making a beeline for the bathroom when your voice calls out from the kitchen.

“eds?”

choosing to ignore it, focussed on the churning in his stomach and the need to empty whatever was rumbling around in there.

it all comes out into the toilet, heaving and retching as you round the corner completely perplexed by whatever was going on.

he’s slumped on the cold floor, gasping for air when you speak, “eddie?” terror in your voice.

“what happened?”

eddie barely looks up, focused on not throwing up again. he can’t explain it, there’s no words to tell you what happened without incriminating himself.

your eyes fall to the red splatters on his shirt, the cuts that littered his knuckles and the purple hue that had started taking over his cheek.

any idiot could put two and two together.

he’s been cryptic about what he does for work, never saying too much but just enough for you to understand. he didn’t want to tell you, to have to drag you into all this. that wasn’t fair.

for a moment, he thinks you’re about to run out of the door and never look back. he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

instead, you take charge, stepping into the bathroom with your hands resting on your hips, “get up,” you order, tugging at his arm.

he doesn’t. still partially curled around the toilet bowl, confused about your attitude.

“i said get up,” barking again, holding onto his elbow with an iron clad grip.

eddie obliges this time around, shakily standing up. he feels like a child, waiting for you to tell him what to do, to make him feel normal again.

you pull him to the sink, running the warm water, scrubbing his hands with yours. the water runs a murky colour, red and brown alike.

“get under your nails,” you add, lathering the soap on his palms, laser focused on his hands rather than the sorry state that had overcome him.

he does as you ask, scrubbing under his nails. standing aloof when you turn the water off.

your hands find the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, “off,” nodding towards his jeans.

it’s a little unsettling that you know exactly what to do, but eddie’s not complaining. grateful for your presence, for your forward thinking. who knows what he would’ve done if you weren’t here. he thinks he probably would’ve handed himself straight into the cops.

you hold a bag open for him, gesturing for his clothes to go in. “we’ll.. we can get rid of them tomorrow,” eventually meeting his eyes again.

he nods, allowing you to guide him through to his bedroom. pliable, completely at your mercy. if you told him that jumping off of bridge would help, he’d do it.

you dump the bag of evidence on the floor before pulling out a fresh shirt and sweatpants, flinging them on the bed.

“get dressed.. i’ll get you some water,” before flouncing out of the room.

eddie hated himself for dragging you into his life like this. it was always supposed to be something separate, something isolated from your relationship.

he’s barely dressed by the time you return, feeling like a pitiful mess. if the look on your face were anything to go by, he looked like it too.

“eddie,” you begin, that same sad tone you’d had when he told you about his mom, “i don’t..” stepping closer, “need to know what happened- i don’t really want to know either but.. you can’t let it fuck you up,” looking at him earnestly, which honestly hurts more.

he nods, “i know,” because he did. “i’m sorry for-,” he sighs, “for getting you involved, i never wanted you to see this.”

you respond by throwing your arms around his waist, squishing your cheek against his chest, “don’t.. don’t start with that.”

his chin finds the top of your head, nestling into your hair, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

it’s a nice type of silence, the air heavy with unspoken words but he thinks that’s okay.

you understand anyway.

[ha-rinrin]

Holding On

WARNING: This definitely counts as spoiler for act 3.

Summary: Jinx thinks she too far gone, but you think exactly the opposite.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 829

Authors note: I decided to cope with writing so I'm back guys :)

masterlist

The air was thick with tension, the faint hum of the explosives making everything feel heavier. Jinx stood in the center of the room, her body trembling with the weight of her thoughts. The bomb was in her hands—its cruel, ticking countdown echoing through her head, matching the frantic pace of her heartbeat.

She looked at the device, her eyes wild with something darker than madness. Her fingers were just inches away from pulling the trigger. The detonator. The end. She could feel it. The destruction. The chaos.

But there was something else too. Something so faint, you almost missed it—a desperation that even Jinx couldn't hide.

You didn’t know how you got here, only that you had to get to her before it was too late. Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed into the room, your eyes locking onto her figure.

"Jinx!" you called, your voice strong, breaking through the sound of the countdown. She didn't look up. Not at first.

"Don't even think about it," you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the tense silence that had surrounded her. You knew you were running out of time.

Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with something you couldn't read, a whirlwind of anger, pain, and confusion. The bomb was still in her hands, her fingers trembling, but she didn’t move.

"You think you can stop me?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, raw. "You think I care?"

You took a step closer, your hands raised in a gesture of caution, but your resolve was unwavering. "I care, Jinx. I care more than you know. But this… this isn't you."

Her lips curled into a bitter smile, but her eyes betrayed her. They were glassy, unfocused. "Who else am I supposed to be, huh?" The words were jagged, broken, just like her. "I’ve lost everyone. I don’t even know who I am anymore."

"You're Jinx," you said, your voice softening as you took another step forward. "You're the girl I… I can’t lose, not like this." You swallowed, your heart aching with every word you spoke. "Please, put the bomb down."

For a long moment, she just stood there, her face unreadable, as though trying to make sense of the chaos in her mind. Then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but you heard it clearly.

"You’ve been the best girlfriend… the best person in my life. You know that, right?" Her hand trembled, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes didn’t meet yours as she spoke, but you could see the hint of something breaking in her gaze. "I’m sorry… but I don't think I can keep going like this. I don't know how much more of me you can take."

"Jinx, no…" you breathed, stepping closer, your heart pounding as the weight of her words hit you.

"You deserve someone who can be whole," she continued, her voice cracking, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "You deserve someone who can… stay. I don’t even know who I am anymore. But you—" She stopped, shaking her head, a faint laugh escaping her lips, bitter and broken. "You were everything. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"Don’t you dare," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not like this."

Her hand tightened on the detonator again, her fingers almost convulsing, but she was silent, the look in her eyes telling you more than any words could.

You couldn’t let her go, not like this.

“Please, Jinx,” you whispered desperately, your voice barely audible. "I need you. I love you. I can’t lose you. You don’t have to do this. You’re worth so much more than all of this. We’ll figure it out together. Please."

She looked at you then, her lips trembling, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. The bomb in her hand felt like nothing compared to the weight of the emotion that filled the room. She slowly lowered the detonator, her hands shaking as she clutched it loosely, a faint tremble passing through her.

"I'm too far gone," she said, barely above a whisper, her voice breaking. "But maybe... maybe I still have something left. I can't leave you alone"

You reached for her then, slowly, gently. She didn't flinch as you took her hand in yours, her fingers cold but now gripping you back, even if just a little.

"I can't let you go," you said softly, your voice trembling but firm. "Please... don't leave me like this."

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean against you, her body trembling. The bomb was still in her hand, but she wasn’t holding onto it anymore.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

And for once, there was no chaos. Just the fragile thread of connection between you, something both of you clung to as if it could mend the broken pieces. "You deserve everything," you murmured, your voice steady and sure. "And I’ll be here to remind you of that, every step of the way."

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

somnophilia with John wick from the prompts? 👉🏽👈🏽

jw & fem reader

gif by the wonderful @scarlettspectra. TRIGGER WARNING(s) Somnophilia (from Latin somnus "sleep" and Greek φιλία, -philia "friendship") is a paraphilia in which an individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is unconscious. & a bit of exhibitionism

You had waited for him all day. Flitting around the house, cleaning and cooking and making sure everything was in line for his arrival. Wearing his favorite dress, playing his favorite music on the stereo, chilling a fresh bottle of his favorite bourbon.

A month and a half. That’s how long it had been since you last saw the person  whose presence gave meaning to your life. So, naturally, you were brimming with excitement, heart pattering wild and strong in your chest, body giddy and jittery—unable to regulate haywire nerves. John was coming home. 

He wasn’t often gone for this long. It was an important job. Something involving a very, very rich man paying him to complete a very, very difficult task. Of course, you knew what his tasks usually included, but didn’t like to think about it too much—couldn’t think about it too much…

It was just hard to imagine…your John killing someone. The same John that took bugs outside instead of squashing them, who cleaned up his bar table and tipped more than generously, who always held the door open and returned shopping carts. Who was sweet and kind and treated you like you were made of paper-thin glass unless you specifically requested otherwise. 

The text comes in mid-evening, just as you’re putting his untouched dinner away and cleaning up the kitchen. Hey, dollbaby, my flight got delayed until tomorrow at six AM. I’m sorry. Don’t stay up worrying about me.

It’s disappointing, but you have to admit you’re used to this. It just comes with what he does, and you’ll gladly endure it with a smile for him. However, that doesn’t mean you can grant his request and stop yourself from worrying. With a little sigh, you type back: Okay, John. Love you.

I Love you, too.

You try and pass the time; go for a late swim, read a book, snuggle up on the big leather couch to scroll TV channels for movies. Except none of that works to distract you from John’s missing shadow, and you just end up with your head buried in a throw pillow, inhaling his residual scent and pretending the cushion is his chest.

You decide to invite some friends over for a good distraction, and they bring card games and beer and wine. You have your own stash of alcohol, so between you and three of you closest, you end up drinking a little too much and passing out halfway through game night. 

John finds you in the icy blue light of breaking dawn, breathing even and slow and slung haphazardly on top of your mattress. The residual burn of spirits heat your skin ruddy, and you have long since kicked the comforter off to leave yourself bare and unsuspecting of the hungry wolf who’s cock fattens at the sight of you—his big tshirt snuggling against your curves, the hint of a panty seam visible along the soft skin of your hip

He discards his clothes into a pile on the floor, too starved for flesh to care about being his usual tidy self, and climbs on the bed to run the tip of his tongue along that delicious cut crease of supple flesh.

You stir and whine, hand coming up momentarily to bat the tickly feeling away, only to weakly fall back down onto the bed, its task lost in the dark deep of your slumber. 

With a wicked grin, he moves his mouth down your thigh, licks into the seam behind your knee, then treks a wet path of kisses over your calves. You squirm and kick, trapped by heavy sleep, defenseless under his tongue.

He knows that, by now, you’d be begging him sweetly to make you cum, arching up into his teasing mouth for more, hanging on to his beautiful throw of silky hair as he laps at your panties. Always so impatient, his sweet girl. 

God, he missed you. Missed your smell and taste, the way you buck your hips, that little tender space between thigh and cunt that makes you squeal when he flicks it with his tongue. 

He nudges your panties to the side to reveal an already glistening wet and swollen pussy, your clit ripe and fresh, ready for his mouth to pluck and taste. Even in your sleep, you’re more than ready to sheath his cock.

He suckles at your folds gently while you stir awake with a sleepy little moan. “J-joh-jjj,” you slurr, gripping at the plump pillows while your cunt tenses and thighs attempt closing. 

So sensitive in that foggy place between sleep and wake, with his familiar mouth on you, impatient and insistent.

He holds your thighs open and eats—devours your cunt sloppily from the back, groaning about how good you taste and how much he missed it. “It’s okay, baby, no no no, come’ere, I gotcha. That’s my girl.” Two fingers curled inside, coaxing a fast approaching orgasm from your perfect little pussy. 

“Gonna, gonna-ah c-cum,” you tell him, clenching on his fingers, once shy clit now grinding down onto his tongue. You’ve just missed him so much, and it’s been so long, and you haven’t even touched yourself at his specific request, so it’s no surprise that it only takes seconds of cunnulingus just the way he’s learned you love it to have you soaking the sheets below your hips. 

“Good job,” he coos, bringing you down with little kisses to your puffy lips and chafed thighs, sucking his fingers clean and closing his eyes against the savory flavor of your slick. “You okay, babydoll?” 

“Uh huh,” you tell him, still twitching from the heavy orgasm, eyes threatening to close again, too tired to wipe the little bit of spittle off your chin. 

You feel him shift behind you, and then his thick tip press against your still spasming entrance, ready to overwhelm and overstimulate and leave you a babbling mess. His cock is built for your pleasure and demise, and as he enters, invading and pillaging the sensitive walls of your cunt, your eyes fly open and you sob into the pillow.

Something like, “o-oh fuck-“

“Shhh, baby.” His warm touch finds the base of your skull, that soft tug on your unkempt tangles guiding you back into his slow, deliberate thrusts. “Your friends are in the living room, gotta be quiet for me.” 

“Y-yeah Jo-ohn.” You try and tell him just how much you missed him, but the words jumble and stick, translating to half-muffled moans. Tears bead at your waterline in submission to that first stretch of his unfairly girthed cock. 

He understands your incoherent babbles perfectly. “Fuck,” he growls, tip kissing your cervix, “I missed you, too. Missed this tight little cunt.”

You have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the animalistic sounds of pleasure at bay, as he fucks you. So often, this beautiful man makes love to you, slow and soft. This is not one of those times. 

If you could think, it would be about how loud the sound of his hard pelvis clapping against your soft ass is, as he chases that otherwise unobtainable high that only your cunt can bring—that he thought about every single minute he was gone…the reason he’s alive.

You’re sobbing from it all—the way he splits you open so perfectly, the tiny dark whispers of reassurance, the fact that he’s alive and well and all over and around you; big hand pressing your lower back down for better and deeper access inside your cunt.

The way he just knows, even in his own rough desperation, how to unravel you—make you see the cosmos and beyond, into the soupy blackness of unexplored universe. 

“You coming again, baby?” He doesn’t have to ask, because he knows you are, more than familiar with the way you unfold and shatter. 

“Y-yeah-huh.”

He puts you on your back with practiced gentleness, and cups your sweaty cheeks in his hands before sucking your bite-swollen lower lip into his mouth, managing to stay buried inside you through the easy transition, swallowing your whimpers while his cock works out the final flutters of your orgasm. 

“Oh, John,” you say, when he stops licking at your throat to allow the both of you some much-needed, panting breath. “F-fuck, John.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, brushing the sweaty hair off your temples and pecking tiny wet kisses over your face. “I gotcha, it’s okay. Johnny’s here. Open your pretty eyes, let me see you.” 

In a deep, stuttering thrust, when you clamp like a vice around him, he loses himself inside of you, and you are with him. Utterly overtaken, love burning through your blood, body singing in rapturous heavenly choir. This is as close to the pearly gates you will ever get, you think, as you float down from the high. 

There is a cut on his temple that you failed to notice, and you touch just below. “You got hurt.” 

“I’m better, now.” 

With him nestled beside you, arms wrapping around and sheltering your body with his own, legs supporting your bottom and cock still softening inside your cunt, you feel sleep creep back up like an old friend.

It isn’t long before he’s succumbed to it, himself, happily snoozing nestled in your hair. You don’t know what he’s been through in that long stretch of absence, but it doesn’t matter now. 

He’s here with you, and that’s enough.

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Impulse has "Traffic School" tomorrow!

Impulse: I gotta think about when I'll be able to do all this digging. Thinking about the schedule. Obviously I'm a little busy tomorrow. Stuck in traffic.

---

Impulse: (laughing) "Can't wait to watch everyone being stuck in traffic." Oh. Good stuff, guys, good stuff.

---

Impulse: "You know Skizz isn't streaming tomorrow, but am I [are you]?" No, no stream planned for tomorrow. Gonna be stuck in traffic, so.

---

Impulse: (sighs) Alright guys. Since the cat's pretty much out of the bag…who should I team with? C'mon now, what do you guys think? Who should I team with? I'm not saying they'd be willing, and I don't always pre-plan these things. Lizzie, Pearl--lotta Pearls, lotta Pearls. Pearl could be fun. Jimmy would be fun. I've been-I've been teamed with Skizz a few times. "Bring back the--oh, the Soup Group' but in-in the life series?" Ooh. But I was teamed with Gem last season, too, so. I do try to avoid….teaming with some--like, all the same people, type thing? I mean traffic school, yeah. Yeah, who should I go to traffic school with? That's what I meant. Sorry, I got confused with something else. It's been-its been a wild week.

Impulse: I-I got too much exp, whoops. Yeah, someone I haven't before. I've never-I've never teamed with Pearl on the life series, I mean in traffic school. Pearl and I have never gone to traffic school before. She drives on the other side of the road, I think, so it wouldn't make sense. (scoffs, starts laughing) GIGGS, holy smokes…oh man…oh, that could be fun. Huh.

[frasermints]

imagine you are in your mid twenties. you were always out of place - the eldest, uglier daughter of a bookstore owner that never said he loved you and was always disappointed in the decisions you made. you read science fiction and 40s detective novels and quite literally studied the blade because it was better than being at home or getting rejected by boys.

you've just been reassigned all the way across the country after the married coworker you were sleeping with was shot in the line of duty - on YOUR watch. everyone was looking at you because YOU let him die. so they sent you away. and now that you're here, it almost happens again.

something weird happens and they send you... all the way across the country again, with someone new in some weird location doing god knows what. and you get to do wonderful beautiful amazing scary life altering things. and you build a life there. you adopt a ferret and you move all of your belongings and you make friends and you save lives.

and then. oh, and then.

you grew up reading the novels. you fell in love with the writing and the fantasy of it all - science we could never dream of having and concepts we could never think of exploring. and then you got this job, and it all... it was all possible.

and then you met her. you found out she was actually a woman. and you met her. sure it was at the hot end of a gun, but. she saved your life. she gave you one of her inventions. she took you on wild adventures. you became partners.

you fell in love.

and then you met at the hot end of a gun again. she betrayed you, everyone you worked with, everyone you worked to make trust the both of you. she fell apart. you fell apart.

you gave it all up. they made her disappear.

she comes back one day. it's not really her. they trapped her mind and released her body off into the world. and just as you get her back she's gone again. she's gone and you're gone and she looks at you and says how dare you come back, how dare you interrupt my life, the life i'm building, the life i have away from you what are you doing here myka

"you called us"

myka bering you deserved so much more. you deserved more than bury your gays you deserved more than silent and implied bisexuality you deserved more than longing looks and lingering stares myka bering you deserved to be happy and to be emotional and to love helena wells with every part of your being and i am so sorry you didn't get that babe

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[revehae]

i’m not asking you to write for wonbin but if you ever do js know i wiillllll be there !

yall have finally did it yall have won yall have Cracked me i hope youre happy bc i kinda am… i had this idea before he cut his hair now im feeling like that one harry styles fan tweet and i don’t even stan fr

warnings: drug use, addiction, is this dubcon idk

wc. 670

dealer!wonbin x (f) rich!reader.

wonbin knew you wouldn’t turn down his offer. not in the state that you were in, moody and tense as ever. the girl he’d seen around here and there at parties hadn’t come back around, not since he’d first seen her bump a line or two, and she’d been replaced by you.

what you had become over the months, at least.

not that wonbin would have it any other way. he liked having you kind of dependent on him, knowing he was the first person crossing your mind when you needed a fix. but the brief interactions, meeting you at a party or somewhere shady at night, your car window rolling up as quickly as it had gone down, weren’t enough anymore.

“no.”

“no?” you repeated, like the entitled, spoiled rich girl you really were deep down. wonbin had to give you credit, you cloaked it well, but when you were desperate, you showed your true colors. “what do you mean no?”

wonbin grinned playfully, in a way that he knew would aggravate you. “i mean, i set everything aside for my buddy, and i don’t have enough for you right now.”

you rubbed your nose and ran a finger through your hair, exhaling exasperatedly. “well, tell him to wait. i need it more than he does! is he paying you? i’ll pay you twice as much!”

there you went, offering him your pocket money, throwing it away like it was nothing just for a second of your high. but wonbin didn’t need your money. selling cocaine to recklessly needy addicts like yourself was a very lucrative business.

he shook his head. “sorry, that’s not gonna cut it. but i thought of something better.”

you were in the middle of losing what was left of your mind when wonbin said that and your eyes immediately snapped back to him, fixed to him before he could even get the words completely out.

“i’ll give you two grams if you let me fuck you,” wonbin said casually, a wild grin tugging at his lips. “six grams if you let me do it raw.”

you were a little reluctant at first, but wonbin wasn’t surprised when you finally caved, thinking to himself, that was too damn easy.

because he was nice, wonbin let you snort a line before he touched you, but he was on top of you not a second later. in spite of that, he didn’t move like he was in any particular hurry, snaking a hand up your shirt and pressing his lips against your lips. then your neck, your collarbone, your belly. almost affectionately, almost.

it started to work you up quickly, and you even got annoyed, tugging at his hair, but wonbin didn’t care. matter of fact, he could feel his body getting hotter, burning a thousand degrees. he wanted to savor every second of you, every touch of you, every smell of you.

wonbin really liked the smell of you. the sweet scent helped masked the madness underneath when you were like this. he leaned in to sniff your hair, your neck, your clothes, your hands.

it made his dick twitch in his pants and he couldn’t control himself anymore, yanking it free so that he could steer himself between your open, inviting legs, moaning shakily and blowing his hair out of his eyes as he pushed into you. 

knowing that only a few months ago, your dignity would have never let you consent to something like this, wonbin almost felt bad. he may have sold the drugs, but he never touched them otherwise. too many people he had seen wind up like you, selling themselves out for a moment of ecstasy.

but he wasn’t so different. your cunt squeezed and throttled the life out of his cock. sweat was the reason your body clung to his. you were muttering his name, dragging red lines down his back with your fingernails. and for the time being, there was nothing wonbin wouldn’t do for his moment of ecstasy.

[lucygxybaird]

imagine you're killed in a shootout or a fight, and everything is so fast, so hectic, that billy doesn't even realize until it's over. until he sees you lying there, so still. too still.

maybe you're tucked away in a corner of the house where the gang has holed up, and he sinks to his knees on the floor, kneeling beside you like a penitent.

he pulls you into his arms, even though he knows you're already gone. he smooths your hair away from your face, makes sure your clothes are straight and neat, and he just holds you. he doesn't rock or scream or beg for help. it's too late for that. it's too late for any of that. besides, doing anything would require thought, feeling, and he's empty. it's like someone hollowed him out, his heart fading away the moment yours stopped beating.

he sits there with you -- with your body, rather, since what really made you you has disappeared and will never, never, never come back -- and he stares into nothing. at some point, though he's unaware of choosing to move, let alone doing it, he finds himself leaning against the wall with you still in his lap.

he can't bear to look into your face.

he doesn't move, doesn't show any signs of life at all except for the involuntary, slight rise and fall of his chest, until charlie crouches beside him and tries to take you away. "billy, we need to--"

"don't," he says. turning his eyes toward his friend, billy looks at him with a dull, angry gaze, like a fire banked low. "don't you fuckin' touch her, charlie. she's gonna stay right here."

there are tears in charlie's eyes. you were his friend, too, and billy is like his brother. "billy," he says gently, pityingly. "we gotta bury her. we've buried everybody else. it's her turn."

"no," billy answers. "no."

he tightens his arms around you, holding you higher against his chest, as if you can still listen to the beat of his heart (you always liked to do that; you told him once that nothing made you feels safer than lying in his arms, your head nestled onto his chest, listening to the steady drum. it tended to lull you right to sleep). he stares at charlie, wild-eyed but blank, like an animal driven into a corner.

charlie doesn't say anything, and it's not until he's silent for a long time that billy realizes he's left. he has no idea how long it's been or where charlie has gone. he doesn't care.

there's a window -- shattered glass littering the floor -- across the room, and through it he can see that it's gotten dark. how long has he been sitting here? he has no idea. he doesn't care about this, either.

"i'm sorry," he tells you. he still doesn't look at you. "i'm so sorry. this is all my fault. it's always my fault. i shoulda told you to get outta here--"

i shoulda made sure he knew he was my hero, i shoulda found a better doctor, i shoulda made more money so she didn't have to work as hard, i shoulda stayed with him...

at some point, he looks around again, and manuela is sitting next to him. she touches his shoulder. "billy," she says.

like he did with charlie, he just tells her: "no."

"querido, we must," she says, her hand still on his shoulder. "we have to. it's time. she can't stay like this. it's not good for her."

"what?" billy blinks.

manuela reaches out with her free hand and brushes billy's hair out of his eyes. "it's not good for her," she says again. "she needs to go home."

"she is home," billy says. his eyes sting and he doesn't know why, because he's empty, which means he doesn't have anything left to give to tears. "she's with me."

smiling sadly, manuela shakes her head. "her home is different now," she says. "you will join here there, someday. i am sure she will be waiting for you. she loved you very much." she squeezes his shoulder. "but now you need to let her go, so she can rest and wait for you there."

"rest?" he repeats, like he's never heard the word before. his throat tightens, and he can feel one bead of moisture, and then another, trickle down one cheek. "she's tired?"

"yes," manuela says softly. "she's very tired. she needs you to let go, so she can rest."

a choked sob wrenches its way out of his chest, clawing as it goes, and he finally loosens his hold on you. "okay," he says. "okay. so she can rest."

they bury you separately from everyone else, underneath an oak tree that spreads its leaves over a pool of shade. it will shelter you, he thinks, from the wind and the rain; it will keep you safe and warm, protect you, succeed where he failed.

he makes your marker himself, whittling your name and your date of birth onto a piece of wood and sticking it upright in the earth. he can just see it from his window when he lies in bed, not sleeping until his body forces him to sleep, exhaustion bullying him under.

at first, all he wants to do is be with you. he doesn't want to keep you waiting too long.

but he knows you well enough to be sure you wouldn't want that for him. you'd want him to fight, to live. his work in lincoln county isn't done, not yet, not by a long shot.

when it is, though, when it's time to finally lay down his guns, he knows where you'll be. and he'll join you there, finally able to rest. finally home.

[redishflavor]

if you saw the other one no you didn't

someone's John dory ask got eaten and I can't find my previous draft on it 😔

A/N -> I'll be starting school soon again so I won't be able to write as many fanfics as right now, but still send it requests! I just won't be able to publish them as fast as before 😅

but anyways (this is way longer than my last one damn)

John dory x reader headcanons

okay let's get one thing straight

this man has been in the wild for over idk how many years

he probably is secretly touch starved

and he's probably really bad at flirting

let's say this is after the events of TBT, so he's back in society again (probably)

hes bumped into you a few times and during those few times it was just some small talk here and there

but then when he bumped into you again he decided to flirt

with a terrible pick up line

after he said that he gave a look that was like "Yep, still got it"

he does not got it

you just looked at him, looked away and snorted

he thinks it's working

it might be

without him asking, you gave him your number on a peice of paper

there was a small not under the number (yall choose idk what to put) with a small heart at the end

(ur stinky but funny ❤️) (I sorry I had to😭😭)

he didn't read the note, he js put it on his wall in a frame

he was the first to text you

just a simple "Hi this is John dory"

and you know how some people type something but not send it?

he did that

"PLEASE PLEASE DATE ME 🙏🙏" then he deleted it to respond 'normally' to your text

after a few weeks of talking to each other you were the first to ask if he wanted to go on a date

he probably has never responded so fast to someone on his life

I js had to add this but he probably lost his other glove bc Rhonda ate it

anyways back on track

the first date you two went on was at a small Cafe (idk I panicked😭)

you two talked about a hunch of stuff but then settled on the topic of bands

one of your favorite band was BroZone

his eyes visibly lit up at the word BroZone

asks a bunch on questions like "who's your favorite band member" or "what's you favorite song"

takes his SWEET TIME telling you he's THE John Dory from BroZone

so many questions from both him and you

but after that date he offers to walk you home

and that's also how he got your address

a few more dates later he's the one to make the first move

a small text saying to meet him up at the Cafe they had their first date in

hes already there looking a bit flustered

after you two sit down he asks if you want to date

and that's how yall start dating (I am so sleepy rn guys)

every now and then he would send small gifts to you like flowers, candies, anything that reminds him of you at almost any store he goes to

he likes compliments, both giving and receiving them

when he's spending the day at your place he likes to cuddle with you

or hold you in any way

hug, hand holding, any touch basically

LOVES when you kiss him

like pepper him with kisses and he's melting

grab a bucket and mop he's gone

when he first introduced you to his brothers they had many questions

when Poppy met you (probably through Branch)

you two both bonded over dating a member of brozone

as you and Poppy were fangirling over them JD just looked at you lovingly

like he almost forgot his brothers were there

he loves you too much

he also gets you free tickets and backstage passes to every single one of BroZone's concerts

you've never missed a single concert

and you have way to much merch (mostly JD's merch) (and it's signed with his signature)

I think I might end it here bc I'm running out of ideas and any longer to post this would end up taking longer to post because school starts in like 2 says for me 😭😭 anyways I hope this was good for whoever asked this and again so sorry I lost your ask! I hope you have a great day/night!!

[picklebunbun]

HIII HOW U DOING I would like to make a request (if ur not busy!!) 

About flippy/fliqpy (htf) and reader with anger issues!

Like they just randomly go mad crazy but they calm down easily, but it’s kinda freaky how fast they go form psycho crazy to a lil silly person

Oh could you also make reader’s gender neutral? 

Thank you so much for ur hard work!!

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ Flippy/Fliqpy x gn! reader

৻ꪆ..

savior

novulent ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

৻ꪆ..

❦. gender neutral! reader, no agab, kind of masculine pronouns but not really at tge same time

❦. genre: more crack than fluff and maybe a hint of angst but you have to squint to ses it

❦. cw: violence, talks about violence, violent tendencies, kind of gorish,, reader seems very bi polar, just reader getting vilely angry, and death

❦. fandom: HTF

❦. can be read as rom or plat

summary: headcanons of reader switching from wild anger to their normal happy go-lucky self in front of Flippy/Flipqy [reader is so kenji from the hit series bungou grey dawgs]

{angel's/pickle's notes 🪽🥒: sorry I've been gone so long, finally school ended and I can focus on writing requests ! Anyways I have to catch up, thank you for requesting !}

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

"*_- hcs !

when Flippy first met you, he saw how bubbly you were, kind of air-headed, always hapoy about something. It was nice to see someone like that since most of the people he met hid behind a façade, they were either deeply terrified or would wrap around your throat like a snake, but it turns out, you were actually pleasent to be around.

first of all, you decided to hide this problem away from him, keeping it in a locked caged, making sure it didn't escape, but, just like how you bottle up everything, it all starts to bubble up and explode.

the first time Flippy saw you like that, it was Flippy at all. It was Flipqy.

needless to say, it was very surprising to see you so violently angry, it was like a different person was controling you.

you acted almost exactly like how Flipqy does, although, his was a trauma response and yours was probably for a different reason. You did just as much damage as him when you switch.

when he saw you act this way, it just encouraged him to be even more violent. In no time, blood and guts were flying everywhere, blood-curdling screams from your friens and crying could be heard from miles away.

everything kind of blanked after that.

keep in mind, Flippy doesn't know, only his alter-ego does. So when you tried to apologize from how you acted that day, he was confused, horrified, a little appalled, but he was just a whirlwind of emotions.

you guys had a huge talk that day.

it was kind of funny how you turn back to a silly goober and waddle away from the corpse you just killed.

you were so adorable too, anyone could've had their guard down around you. It's like you were constantly stuck on ':3' you're whole life,,,

one time, when you were basically destroying everything in your path, the minute you saw Flippy, you stopped what you were doing and hopped your way to him. Very weird,,, but he loves you so it's okay, in his words,, "who am I to judge anyways ?"

but yeah, he makes sure he's around you in public so no more people have to be tortured endlessly by you,, and so you can calm him down when he has another PTSD episode! So it's basically a win-win.

most of your time is spent with Flippy cause of how paranoid he can get from you being out in public alone.

Flipqy is still kind of wary around you, but since you treat Flippy right and he trusts you with all his life, he eventually learns to trust you.

you'd probably almost go to jail or a psychiatric hospital multiple times.

your [best friend or lover] will always bail you out, dw my man. 🙏

a whole protest to bail you out too,, "FREE MY HOMIE, [NAME] ‼️"

you come home in the middle of the night standing in the doorway.

"DARLING, GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM JAIL" "WHAT?!"

they can't keep ya boy locked up, YOU STAY WINNING 😼

but long story short, you and Flippy are awesome and everyone should treat you guys like royalty.

[wings-of-ink]

Update!

Hey everyone, just wanted to check in with you. I hope you all doing well!

Right now, I am feeling good about getting chapter 3 out by 4/30. It's a crunch for sure, but barring any disasters in the work itself or my personal life, I feel like it is doable. My aim is to get it to a point where it is release-worthy but will still need fine tuning after the fact. I generally like to edit things a couple times at least and have it play-tested, but I won't have time for all that. But, this is a work in progress, and I can always make improvements as I go. There are also a couple segments that I did not have time to add, but they're not pivotal to the story. I will add them if I find the time before the 30th (sorry to those who wanted to make a tasty cake for someone).

So far, I have gone through chapters 1 and 2 again and made some corrections to typos and grammar. I added a white hair option with some flavor text, and some other flavor text for purple eyes. The option to have your MC's hair turn grey (streaked or fully grey) from stress/illness was added, but I did not do it in the way I needed to, so if I have time, I'm going to fix that before release. I also updated some of the variable values of certain choices. A name bank was added for anyone who might struggle to come up with a name for their MC. I made all but one of them correspond to the marks. There's a wild card in there for the adventurous, lol. The codex was also updated.

Today, I am editing chapter 3. My very gracious boss encouraged me to take the day off, and I'm feeling pretty good, so I'm using this as an opportunity to get some serious work done.

If you're curious and don't mind my rambling about my life, you can read about my ordeal below!

I am feeling much better. I had a couple rough days in the past week, but mostly brought on by medication my dentist wanted me to take to stave off possible infection in a broken tooth. I had a less-than-stellar reaction to it, and it gave me insomnia and anxiety. Simply fantastic.

But, I had the root canal yesterday (got lucky and they had a cancelation so I was able to go in 5 days early). I am happy to report it was not bad at all. In fact, it may have been the easiest dental procedure aside from cleanings that I've ever had, lol. I was in and out within half an hour, and the endodontist numbed the fuck out of my mouth. The biggest pain was the drive there and back since I live so far away.

I chilled the whole day and took a glorious 2 hour nap, and have been sore but totally good. I even watched one of my favorite comfort-animes, Natsume Yuujinchou. If you are ever feeling poorly and down in the dumps or just need to relax, it is cute, a bit funny, and lighthearted - so I highly recommend it. So, all in all, I feel recharged and more than ready to see chapter 3 with fresh eyes!

Thank you to everyone who sent me encouraging messaging about the root canal. It really truly helped me show up for that appointment without feeling completely vulnerable. I was still anxious, because that is just what my brain do - I can't even see my GP without my hands shaking, lol. But, going into it knowing what your experiences have been helped so much.

Anyway, sorry for prattling! I'm going to get back to it now! ^_^

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 3 - Vampire

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Elain and Azriel have a moment while Tamlin and Felina reconnect. Rhys winnows his sister away following a panic attack, leaving Azriel and Tamlin to face each other one-on-one. After poor decisions are made, Azriel must answer to his High Lady. If only Feyre realized how much danger she’s in.

Part 2 Series Masterlist Part 4/Prequel

Warnings: blood, violence, self-loathing, panic attack resulting from past heartbreak and trauma, language

To Azriel, it felt like an eternity. An eternity of standing there watching his mate in the arms of a male he despised, reviled. And Felina, she looked like she was home. Like she’d just found solace after centuries of wandering alone and weary.

And fuck, it made him a bastard but it gutted him. He wanted, no, needed, to scoop her right out of his arms and carry her to a place where it was just him and her. They had so much to address. All they’d done was fed and fucked after Azriel had been turned, he thought there’d be plenty of time for talking once the bloodlust and mating frenzy settled but then everything had gone to shit.

He was so happy to have this female he adored back in his life - but to him, she was so new and he didn’t know how to feel. Because when he looked into those eyes, he still saw that swirling darkness. Not the dancing of stars he’d once adored when they were young but, the darkness of being trapped, locked away, tormented by those who should have been trustworthy. A darkness he could recognize all too well.

Where had she been all those years?

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked to find the brown doe-eyes of Elain, looking to him with concern - guilt.

“Can we talk for a moment?” She whispered.

Azriel felt the muscles of his jaw tighten. The thought of leaving Felina with Tamlin made him sick.

“Not now, Elain.” He grit a bit more harshly than intended. Her eyes cast downward and he saw the hurt flicker across her soft features.

Gods, looking at her now, he didn’t know how he’d ever thought the cauldron made a mistake. She was lovely, a kind soul, she was good.

But his mate - she was wild, curious about the world around her, stars eternal. At least, she had been in her youth. Somehow being turned only amplified her into a force that had yet to be reckoned with, dark and mysterious. She was fucking everything.

She started to turn away and the guilt struck Azriel. His words of “this was a mistake.” on that cursed solstice weighing heavily between them. He could give her a moment of his time.

So, he followed her. “Elain, wait.” He spoke softly, his long strides effortlessly catching him up to her. “Let’s speak over there.” Nodding his head toward a bistro set that was far enough away from the foyer for privacy, but close enough that he could monitor.

The Shadowsinger pivoted away from the situation just long enough that he missed Felina turning her head to search for him, just to see him walking away with the delicate female.

Elain seated herself at the small table, rays of sunlight shone through the window, casting a golden hue upon her hair, rendering the middle Archeron sister nearly blonde. Her leg bounced with anxiety as Azriel took a seat across from her, sending up his shadows to block the rays.

“I-“ Elain started. “Azriel, I am so sorry. This is my fault. Lucien and I have been writing, we’ve been trying to get to know eachother. I mentioned to him about the reunion between Rhys and his sister.”

Azriel pressed his lips into a line, shuffling through his thoughts and treading carefully. “It’s fine-“

“No,” she interjected. “It’s not. I only told him because I’d had a vision of blood, shadow, and night. It alarmed me but… nobody listens to me, Azriel. They don’t understand my visions, I- I don’t either. But Lucien, he listens. He tries to help. So when she showed up, and when we realized that she- and you- were turned, I realized what the vision meant. So I told him.”

Her glassy eyes looked to him. “I had no idea about Tamlin. And I think, I think I understand why Lucien told him. He knew, about the history between she and Tamlin. But I had never mentioned all that you were going through, that she’s your mate and that there are still so many unanswered questions. I’m SO sorry.”

Azriel shook his head. How could she have known? Azriel was the gods-damned spymaster, he’d always cared for Felina and made a point to look after her, and he’d never known. He had seen a note from “Peter” once but just assumed it was some crush she’d made in Velaris. How had he never thought to look further into who she was seeing?

He knew the answer though. He always had. It was the same reason he’d never looked into Lucien’s whereabouts, or Graysen’s.

But he wasn’t ready to face that right now. The jealousy he’d harbored in those days and the well of emotions and complicated histories that it would bring to light.

So, he took a steadying breath and softened his gaze as he met her wide eyes. “Elain, it’s okay. None of us knew about their history and,” he reached a scarred hand out to brush her arm, a friendly act of reassurance. “I’m happy that Lucien is helping. Your visions are worth listening to, your voice is worth hearing.”

Elain gave a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, he could see the guilt there. And while Azriel was certainly not thrilled to see Tamlin there, he harbored no ill-will toward Elain, or Lucien for that matter, for Tamlin’s appearance today.

A sharp cry pierced the air as Felina pulled herself away from Tamlin. And Azriel almost, almost, felt a twinge of empathy for the male at the look of pain crossing his features.

“No, no, no.” Felina whimpered covering her ears, tears falling from her eyes. Azriel was on his feet in a moment, winnowing to her side as her breathing increased, pulling her in close - Felina opened her eyes, glistening with tears, and Azriel felt an intense jolt of heartbreak tug on their bond.

“I remember.” She choked out, pushing away from his embrace. She looked so small in that moment, so broken. Azriel placed a palm to his chest, as if physically feeling the pain barreling down the bond. “What is it, Felina?”

“I- I don’t. I’m sorry. I can’t-” she cried, her voice barely audible. But her next word came out clear, “Rhys?” Her brother looked to her with such sympathy, such tenderness. “What is it little star?” He asked, stepping to her side, shrouding the two of them in darkness. Azriel’s shadows whispered in his ear.

“Sad.”

“Hurt.”

“Mate.”

He couldn’t make out what was said but one moment Rhys had her in his arms, and the next, they were gone.

Rage filled Azriel as his mate vanished. Fixing his icy gaze toward a downcast Tamlin, his shadows whirled, promising violence. Elain hurried out the front door leaving just the two males. And Azriel was going to kill him.

In an instant, Azriel tackled Tamlin, fists brutally making impact with his face. “What did you do to her!?” He roared, pain filling him. Tamlin didn’t make any effort to hit Azriel, only turning his head and freeing an arm from beneath the Shadowsinger’s weight to block what he could.

Azriel was going to make this brutal, ensure Tamlin felt every ounce of pain the past centuries had brought upon them. “Nothing!” Tamlin choked out, blood filling his mouth. “I did nothing. I swear.”

“No.” Azriel spoke, landing a fist to Tamlin’s cheek. “Nothing is what you did while Feyre was fighting for her life, for Prythian, under the mountain. Nothing is what you did when your family tried to kill my mate- and her mother.” Another blow landed, this time cracking Tamlin’s nose, the metallic tang of blood filling the air. “Nothing,” Azriel spat. “Is what you are.”

It was then that Tamlin went still. All attempts of defense dropping as the words echoed through the room.

“Fight! You fucking coward!” Azriel shoved at his chest.

Tamlin turned his head to the side, vacantly staring off to the other end of the room, eyes going vacant as the weight of Azriel’s words settled within him. “You’re right.” Tamlin whispered. “I am nothing.”

The sound of Tamlin’s ragged breaths and Azriel’s heavy gasps filled the space. More blood trickled down the Spring Court High Lord’s face. “I am nothing and she is everything.” Tears lined the males eyes. “But I didn’t say anything, today. She she looked to see you walking away, she saw you with the Archeron sister, watched you caress her arm, and then she crumpled.”

Azriel gaped, his heart shattering. He was the one who’d caused her pain? Azriel let out an enraged roar, so low and loud that it rattled the windows. At that moment, the front door flew open. Feyre and Lucien entered the foyer, taking in the sight before them. The blood running down Tamlin’s face, dripping onto his tunic and splattering on the floor; Azriel’s disheveled state, his shadows snaking around him angrily, the blood coating his knuckles.

“What did you do?” Lucien ground out, stepping in Azriel’s direction.

Elain stood outside the doorway holding Nyx, excusing herself to remove the winged babe from the confrontation.

“What did HE do?” Feyre scoffed. “He’s not the one intruding in our home.”

Lucien only gave her a side-eye, swallowing whatever smart retort he had at the ready. “What. Happened?” the youngest Vanserra’s russet eye bounced back and forth between the two, the golden one whirring with each motion.

Tamlin and Azriel both stood there, like petulant children before a reprimanding father, neither speaking.

Finally, Tamlin broke the silence. “It was my fault. I’m leaving.” Azriel didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes as he looked to Lucien and Feyre and left.

“Tam, wait.” Lucien called out, but he’d already winnowed away.

Feyre looked to Azriel with a frown. “Given the state of Tamlin’s nose and your fist, something tells me this wasn’t just Tamlin’s fault. What the hell happened, Azriel?”

“I’d like to know the same.” Lucien chided, tanned arms crossing over his chest. Azriel’s hazel eyes narrowed in his direction. “You don’t need to know anything else, considering you can’t keep your mouth shut, Vanserra. You’re the reason he showed up in the first place.”

Lucien gaped, a rare show of the clever fox being caught off guard, before muttering “Shit.” He looked to the blood splattered floor, shaking his head. “I need to go find him.”

With that, he was out the door. Azriel let out a sigh, looking toward the stairwell as if Felina were up in their shared chamber and not wherever the hell Rhys had winnowed her to.

Feyre, ever the High Lady, held her head high, waiting for her spymaster to explain himself. “I need to get some air.” He muttered, making to move past her. “Oh no, you don’t.” Her hand grasped his shoulder, bringing him to a halt. “We are not finished here.”

And damn it, if she wasn’t the one person who could get him to listen right now. Rhys was one thing. Azriel could toe the line with him, test boundaries, display that icy rage that so often flowed through his veins.

But Feyre, he had no doubt that she could handle his rage as well but she was different. She had given everything for Prythian, even when she had absolutely no reason to give a damn about the fae. She was a good and just ruler. Not that Rhys wasn’t, but five-hundred years of brotherhood would jade anyone’s view, if only slightly.

So, Azriel stayed, hazel gaze fixing upon his High Lady, awaiting her next command. “Can we talk?” She asked gently, moving her tattooed hand down his arm. Azriel only nodded as she led him to the sitting room.

Situating herself on a tufted arm chair, Feyre smoothed her paint splattered dress, patiently waiting for Azriel to take his seat in the adjacent loveseat. “Elain came to find me at the studio, asking to reach out to get Lucien. She said Tamlin had shown up unannounced at the River House, that you two had talked, and something happened with Tamlin that upset Felina. Is that correct?”

Azriel nodded. It was mostly true. Was there really need to go into detail?

Feyre’s brow furrowed. “Look at me, Azriel.”

He flicked his hazel eyes to her briefly before looking back toward the entry. “You’re not telling me everything. It doesn’t take my daemati ability to see that, Az.” Her words held firm but her gaze gentle.

Emotions warred within Azriel. He didn’t want to talk to Feyre about this, about the way his heart clenches at the thought of losing Y/N - Felina - the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing now where it originated from. At the same time, it was a support for her, a name that she held onto when nothing else made sense. He was a selfish bastard for resenting it.

However, he refused to feel selfish for the anger he felt toward Tamlin. He drew the line there. If she needed a friend, Azriel would be the first to offer that. If she needed Tamlin’s friendship, if somehow his presence were to aid in her healing? He’d swallow his pride and live with it.

He could support her, and her healing, while internally resenting Tamlin. For now it was the best he could do.

He knew he couldn’t lose control like he did this afternoon again. He’d likely have to make amends for that.

Consumed by thoughts he dropped his face into both hands, rubbing his eyes before leaning his head onto the backrest, arms crossing over his chest. Letting out a sigh of exhaustion. He couldn’t remember the last time he rested properly. Thank the gods for the unique design of this seat with indentions to accommodate Illyrian wings. The perfect spot for brooding comfortably.

A slight discomfort, however, began to set the Shadowsinger on edge. His body growing rigid.

“Hello?” Feyre’s voice invaded his mind, reminding him he still wasn’t alone.

“You’re rather persistent, High Lady.” he replied through the mental channel, that ache growing a bit stronger.

A soft laugh echoed. “Yes. Now tell me what happened.”

Azriel sent images to her, of Felina’s upset, Rhys winnowing her away, his own embarrassing outburst, the cruel words he’d spoken, the realization that he was the reason for her hurt and not Tamlin.

“That’s a lot to unpack. Speaking to you as High Lady, how you treated Tamlin was unacceptable - but, I know you are aware. From a political perspective, we should issue a formal apology at the very least. As a friend, however, you have been through a lot in a very short period of time and have so much to process. With such unusual circumstances and how new your accepted bond is - I cannot fault you for protecting her. We know so little about Vampyr bonds but I’m certain that also played a role.”

Azriel’s cheeks burned with shame. “Do you know where they went?”

His breathing increased, a metallic tang settling into his nose, seeping to his very bones.

A pause. “I do. She is safe but she needs to be with Rhys right now. Honestly, I think they both need it. He’s been on edge since she arrived.”

Azriel let out a huff, sitting upright and ending the mental connection to speak aloud. “I can understand that.”

Was the air in the house growing warmer or was that the increase in his pulse?

Sympathy flickered in those blue-gray eyes as Feyre reached out, placing a hand on Azriel’s knee. “I can’t imagine what this must feel like, Azriel, and I won’t pretend to, but things will work out in time. Perhaps the Mother knew what she was doing when she put someone with - today’s incident aside - such patience, when that is exactly what Y/N needs. What is it Amren used to tell Cassian about Nesta?” Feyre’s brows drew downward as she tried to remember.

Azriel’s restless state rendering him impatient as she searched for the words, he blurted out Amren’s saying, “Keep reaching out your hand.”

And fuck - he looked at his own hand now remembering the dried blood coating it, the blood that had filled his nostrils, when he rubbed his face.

Hunger. This was hunger. Oh gods-

His sharpened canines flashed as he looked to his High Lady, “Feyre-“

Her pulse fluttered deliciously.

Feyre’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh fuck.” She whispered, standing and stepping back from him. “Hold on, Az. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

And then he lunged.

———————————

Rhys sat in silence as his sister sobbed into his chest. He’d winnowed them directly to the cabin - the one that seemed at this point everyone used to avoid their own mate at some point or another.

Visions of past solstices danced in his mind. How she would sit and watch until her cheeks turned frigid. Cassian would tease her, telling her that any male that wanted to win her heart would have to take them all on in a snowball fight and come out alive. Rhys would chuckle and Az would wrap his scarf around her, or blow on her hands to warm them. He’d always cared for her. Rhys had thought in a brotherly sort of way, he knew for a fact that was how Azriel intended it, but now- he imagined it was the mating bond buried deep down, likely just starting to spark. He didn’t know whether to smile or cringe at that.

He’d become so lost in thought, holding his sister and running fingers through her raven locks that he hadn’t noticed her shutters slow down, her breathing evening out. “It looks different.” She whispered, shocking herself with the statement. “I remember this place. I think. It’s familiar, but not.”

Rhys smiled. “Well, that, my dear sister, would be because Amren and Morrigan went head to head and reduced the place to rubble a century or so ago. I rebuilt it the best that I could but made some changes - the tubs even accommodate Illyrian wings now. And Feyre darling, she added her own touches to the place.”

“Interesting…” she whispered. “I think our father would have keeled over had he seen that.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “You’re not wrong. Our father never was the type to appreciate the arts, though he did enjoy your love of it. Not enough to let you paint the walls of any of our homes but- enough to take you to the theater whenever he could, enough to ensure the Rainbow was well-funded and thriving.”

Smiling sadly, he continued, “When I first saw the paintings here, I thought of you. How if you’d have been here, you would have been right there with her, painting along.”

Felina looked to her brother, trying so desperately to remember her old self. Who she’d once been.

“I never forgot you, sister. I’ve carried you in my heart every day, there was not a sunset that I didn’t think about the way your eyes shone with wonder as the stars appeared, about the nights you’d beg me to fly with you….wishing I’d have been there more often, wishing I’d said yes every time you asked.”

“Our past does not define us. What we do with today does.” She whispered, puzzling at her own statement. Rhys whipped his head toward her. “You remember more than you realize.”

She thought on her words. “Azriel. He used to say that, yes?”

Yes. Rhys nodded grimly, remembering the treatment his brother received as a child. “Do you remember what else he would tell you?”

“I don’t think I do.”

Rhys wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her closely.

“It’s the courage to continue that counts.”

Felina’s hands shook and Rhys gave them a squeeze. She whispered to herself “I am Y/N.” Her given name felt less foreign than she’d expected. “I am courageous. I will not be afraid.”

Rhys’ eyes glazed over, his posture going rigid. The grip of his hand squeezing more tightly onto his sister’s cold hand.

Suddenly she was brought into Rhys’ mind, Feyre’s voice frantic.

“It’s Azriel. He needs Felina. NOW.”

——————————————

A/n: If you read this chapter and think “Wow, Felina is being pretty dramatic over Elain” Please hold. There’s more to it that will be unpacked later - she has been through a lot and is still harboring centuries old feelings/emotions that feel recent to her as her memory slowly comes back.

Tags:

General ACOTAR tag: @lilah-asteria

Series tags: @glittervame @julesofvolterra @saltedcoffeescotch @candyjaypoppins @st4r-girl-official @nocasdatsgay @gxdsmonsters

[irkimatsu]

Can you do a husk x fem reader where she’s also a cat demon (no wings, just cat) yet she’s the epitome of “golden retriever” As if her personality was golden, she’s extroverted and caring and so so bubbly (even more so than Charlie). But then one night, crying is heard from her room and husk hears it and she’s insecure of her body because of how skinny she is?? She has curves yes but that doesn’t make her feel better at all and she’s always comparing herself to others and how she could be better!! It’s just overall angst with fluff please :( 🙏

(Live laugh love you sm !!)

Okay, so, first off, a confession - I am, uh. Not skinny. I am far from skinny, and not only that, I'm in the business of taking skinny characters and chunking them up. Have you seen some of my posts about Overlord Husk?

All that to say that I'm not used to writing skinny characters, and "skinny character insecure about their body" is an absolutely foreign concept to me. I tried my best, though, and I hope I hit the notes with this that you needed!

About 1.5 words. Primarily SFW but Husk gets a little handsy toward the end. One-sided Husk/Angel from Angel's side, but Angel's graceful about it, there's no ship bashing here, I still love Angel and he's still one of Husk's best friends.

---

“Husky!”

Husk has barely made it into the hotel lobby, and you’re already clinging to him, your tail wagging furiously.

The tail wagging is strange for your species; you’d reincarnated in hell as a gray tabby cat, a creature known for being moody, standoffish, even a little prissy. But that wasn’t who you were in life, and it’s not how you are in death, either. Husk realized it immediately upon meeting you, and at first he wasn’t a fan of your wild energy, but you managed to grow on the old man’s heart soon enough. He appreciated how young you could make him feel, and how much you reminded him that the best years of his life weren’t as far gone as he thought.

“Hey, hey!” he says, laughing, a far cry from the Husk who would have snapped at you to get off of him a few months ago. “I missed you too, babe!” He gently hugs you back, giving you a couple pats on the back before stepping away. At first you would have been hurt by the lack of enthusiasm, but now you realize that he’s simply not comfortable with too much PDA. He’s perfectly affectionate behind closed doors, and that’s what really matters.

“Damn, I need to find someone who pounces me like that when I get home!” Angel says with a laugh. Shopping bags dangle from all four of his arms, and he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses you don’t think you’ve seen on him before.

“Did you guys enjoy your boys’ day out?” you ask.

“Sure did!” Husk says as he holds up his own, much smaller shopping bag. “Had as much fun as you can when you’re clothes shopping with Angel for three hours, anyway.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like me showing off outfits for ya,” Angel teases as he sways his hips. “I know you were staring at my ass in every pair of shorts I tried on.”

“What ass?” Husk shoots back with a smile. “Don’t lie to me, you’re flat as the fuckin’ bartop.”

“Hm? I’m sorry, and whose flat ass has been on the cover of every adult magazine in hell, again?” Angel says, swaying his hips further.

“Hey, if the people want flat twinks, then good for them.” Husk returns his attention to you, and sticks his hand in the paper shopping bag. “That shop was real nice, though. I found a couple things for myself, and got you a little somethin’, too.” He digs around for a bit, before pulling out a small jewelry box and handing it to you. “Here. For my golden girl.”

You open the box and gasp at the sight of a golden choker encrusted with diamonds. “Husk! How much was this?!”

“Enough to be worth it,” is all the information he’ll give. “Mind if I put it on you?”

“Go ahead!”

He takes the box back and walks behind you. His claws graze your skin as he fastens the choker around your neck, and your skin prickles.

While he’s behind you, you’re still facing Angel. You bear no ill-will toward the porn star; you admire his confidence, and you know he’s been a good friend to Husk since long before you got here. For as much as they tease each other, Husk does genuinely seem to care about Angel and enjoy his outings with him; he wouldn’t have gone on that shopping trip if he didn’t enjoy the company at least a little, you’re sure. He hasn’t been subtle about his crush on Husk, but he’s also conceded his loss to you with grace, which only makes you appreciate him further. It’s not like Angel can’t provide any competition. Who would turn down the opportunity to date a famous porn star? You’re not even into his works, but even you admit that he’s gorgeous, with his slender build and strong legs.

You’re not built like him at all. He’s skinny in a way he works hard for, making sure every part of his body is proportioned just right for his admirers. He’s not just skinny, he’s healthy, and he glows from it.

Meanwhile, Husk is gently rubbing your bony shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder how he feels about the hard lumps beneath his palms.

“Turn around so I can see it?” he asks. You comply, and he responds with wide eyes and a whistle. “Beautiful.”

You’re not sure if you’re in the right headspace to accept the compliment. “Thanks,” you say anyway.

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Husk and Angel about their outing, and trying not to look at Angel too much.

—

Why are you crying about this? This is so stupid. Husk chose you, didn’t he? He met Angel first; if that was what he really wanted, they would have gotten together before you even showed up, wouldn’t they?

So why are you hiding under your blanket, sobbing and clutching your shoulders and wishing you looked like him?

A gentle rapping noise interrupts your self-pity. “Babe? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine!” you call back, despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That didn’t sound fine.” Damn him and his ability to read people. That’s what you get for dating someone who doesn’t like backing down from someone who’s clearly in denial about their own feelings. How dare he care about you like this?

(You’re glad he cares about you. You just wish he’d let you have that denial.)

“I’ll be right there,” you say, knowing he won’t leave now that he’s heard you crying. You untangle yourself from the blanket cocoon you’ve been hiding in, and you go to open the door for him.

“You look like shit,” Husk says as he closes the door behind him. Not the most romantic greeting, but he’s not wrong; your fur is stained with tears, and your makeup is running. Not a good look. “Come here.” He takes your hand, leads you to the bed, and sits you both on the edge of it. “Talk to me.”

You take a few deep breaths to make sure you won’t start sobbing mid-sentence. “Husk? Am I too skinny?”

Husk stares at you, dumbfounded. “Babe. Everyone in this hotel is built like a fucking twig.”

“Yeah, on purpose!” you say. “They don’t have bones sticking out, or sunken faces… they don’t look fucking starved.”

Husk still seems dumbfounded. “Have you looked at me recently?”

You don’t mind giving him a look. His soft fur, unintentionally tousled in such a perfect way, with tufts on his shoulders and chest that are so wonderful to tug. His yellow eyes that currently burn with sarcasm, but that can gaze at you so softly when the mood is right. His generous heart; it’s not something you can see, but you always feel it when you look at him. Whether it’s the choker you still feel around your neck or the time he always gives you no matter the hour of the day, you know he could never feel like he’s given you enough.

“You don’t think I look awful, do you?” Husk says. “You could tell me if you did. I ain’t under any delusion that I’m winning any beauty contests.”

“You look great, Husk!” you insist. “I’ve thought you were handsome ever since I got here.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I look like a withered corpse because I’m regularly too drunk to remember to eat?”

“No!” you say, horrified. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says with a shrug. “I take shitty care of myself, I ain’t denying it. At least you’re tryin’. That’s just what your body looks like. That ain’t your problem.”

“But still…” You pull your legs up to the bed and hug them. “I wish I looked like Angel sometimes… he really likes you, you know.”

Husk snorts. “Yeah. I kinda guessed.”

“You could have been with him before I even got here. Why would you choose me over a gorgeous celebrity like him?”

“You’ve got a certain charm that he doesn’t have. I still like the guy a lot, but we’re just friends. He’s not as kind hearted as you, and he doesn’t appreciate quiet nights in like you do. He needs someone who can keep up with him… and I need someone who can slow down with me. Someone like you.”

At least he loves your personality…

“Plus…” Husk wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said he had a flat ass.”

“Husk!” you squeal, his touch tickling your skin.

“Can I be a gross old man for a second?” he says with a smirk. “Because I love curves. Hips and ass are the best. Gives me something to squeeze.” Both of his arms are around you now, and he’s holding you close. “Sure, he’s perfect by some standards, but he ain’t my type. You, on the other hand…” He kisses your forehead and gently strokes your hair. “Don’t change based on what you think I want, okay, doll? I love you just like this.

Comparin’ yourself to others won’t get you anywhere. Just trust that I’m with you because I wanna be.”

[grison-in-space]

Hey! Not trying to keep an annoying conversation going but I wanted to say I super appreciate your rebuttal on the ARA stuff, it was a really good clear summary. Particularly glad you brought up the "nothing with us without us" thing because that tendency in ARA circles to treat animal liberation as the Same Thing as liberating marginalised humans, who can speak for them-fucking-selves, is so upsetting and overtly dehumanising and it's really valuable to see that pointed out. It's also so connected to the move towards tankie or fascist rhetoric, because it so strongly relies on a paternalistic view of exploited people as passive recievers of harm and charity. Anyway sorry I'm a bit ill and rambly but I really appreciated the clarity of your takes is what I wanted to say.

No worries, the boundary I wanted to set was more "I'm not interested in repeating that I know full well what ARA ideology is and how that hooks into veganism, and I'm not a captive audience." I'm happy to have conversations, including with people I disagree with; I am not happy to have to repeatedly explain the same thing that has, again, been my consistent experience for nigh on twenty years of interacting with the community. This is not that, so. Thank you for the compliment.

The paternalism is such a huge factor. It reminds me very much of benevolent sexism (as opposed to hostile sexism), and rings all the same alarm bells. It really, really, really reminds me of the way Autism Speaks talks about autistic children and always has.

If animals don't have language (and they largely don't) and if they communicate in ways that might be non-intuituve to a human (and they often do), surely it's incumbent on us as humans to decode the meaning of the signals they are sending in order to understand how to ethically interact with one another. Communication, after all, can happen perfectly well in the absence of language. And yet.

There's also just so little understanding and interest in the reality of what the consequences of "freedom" for animals living in captivity actually are and can be; consider for example Flaco the eagle owl who escaped into NYC, as @why-animals-do-the-thing covered last year. For a species that is notoriously reliant on our social structures and learned skill sets to survive, you'd think we could handle this better. But I see an awful lot of animal rights activists who seem to think that successfully releasing animals into the wild—freeing them from human control—is just a matter of one heartwarming video where the animal steps out of the cage and immediately locks its new job as an independent forager into place. It isn't.

I am also just straight up not convinced that freedom in the sense of being on your own and able to do whatever you want is all that great. I have spent my entire life boldly going where no one has gone before. It kind of sucks, actually. On the other hand, as a neurodivergent person personally I do a lot of structuring my choices with an eye to Past Me pissing off Current Me because I know Future Me will appreciate it. I can devise my own structures to let me successfully do that ... or I can just outsource the enforcing to a third party with opinions, which is something I sometimes need to do badly enough to purchase and train an entire stupid dog about it, because asking other humans to do it is relationally expensive. Sometimes having external structures that keep me from doing dumb things when the impulses get me is good actually.

And I mean, I'm a biologist. I went a little viral here a few years ago for being silly and describing what acacia trees do to try to fight off their greatest enemy: the mighty but terrifying giraffe. I know how plants engage their agency as dramatically and persistently as any animal; they're just sessile, so they do everything without the ability to get up and go. They are, however, no less active or opinionated a participant in the ecological chaos of the world than any other kingdom. To say nothing of fungi! To live is, unless you have chloroplasts, to consume. And even an awful lot of chloroplast-bearing species engage in a little heterotrophy now and again.

So like. Why should I think that eating plants is necessarily any more ethical than eating animals? Why does ARA-driven veganism think that increasingly processed and modified diets that camouflage and hide our connection to our food as part of the natural world that, yes, we also live in? Why do we hide from the complexity and the small grief of life, the shadow of death that has to come for there to be any room to change? One day, I too will die, and something will consume me unless I choose instead to be consumed by fire itself. That's carbon, baby!

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- epilogue

Well, we've reached the end guys. Thank you endlessly for going on this wild ride with me. I didn't really know what to expect when I started posting this fic because I wasn't sure it would be anyone's cup of tea, but as usual, you guys went insane with me for it and it never gets old. Love you guys so so much (and thanks for letting me be the evil author that tortures you with such sad stories) 💛💛

Warnings: sadness. just so, so much sadness.

“I have survived, but I have not been spared.” --Catherynne M. Valente

“You understand the agreement you are entering by accepting this retirement package from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit?” Strauss reads aloud for the tape.

“Yes ma’am,” you reply with a nod, signing your life and career away.

“You are not to disclose any of the details of this case with anyone. Family, friends, coworkers past, present, or future, and so on. You understand?”

It’s not like I want to tell anyone. “Yes, I understand.” You sign again.

“Please give me your credentials.” Your firearm was taken days ago. You slide your badge and keycard across the table toward Strauss. “Thank you.”

She recites her name and title, the date, this case number. You recite your name, your former title, the date. 

The tape clicks. Strauss exhales. You stare blankly at the space in front of you, drained of all energy.

“I am sorry,” Strauss says. “For all of this.”

You look up at her. You nod slowly. “Thank you.”

“If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to call.”

You nod. Slow. Everything moved so fast. Now time struggles to breathe.

“You are dismissed,” Strauss says finally. “Thank you for your time. During this interview, and at the FBI.”

You manage a smile. Both of you stood and exchanged formal handshakes, and you left.

The rest of the team is waiting for you in the bullpen by your desk. Your go-bag and cardboard box of your belongings that you packed sit on your chair. 

You don’t say a single word. Rossi pulls you in for a hug first, soothing you while you openly sob into his shoulder. Everyone gathers around you in a group hug, and it isn’t long before everyone is crying, too.

No one knows what else to do. The BAU will never be the same, nor will you, or anyone here. All there is to do is hold one another and cry. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to do anything else.

They help you carry your things to your car. Derek has your go bag over his shoulder. Reid is carrying the cardboard box. Rossi is holding onto your coat until you’re ready for it. Penelope hasn’t let go of your hand. Emily is rubbing perpetual circles into your spine. JJ has her arm linked with yours, and you rest your head on her shoulder in the elevator. 

“Dinner at mine tomorrow,” Rossi says in the elevator. Everyone nods their silent agreement. 

Nothing in the world can fix this feeling or make any of it better, but a homemade dinner with expensive wine in Rossi’s back garden will, at the very least, take the edge off.

Derek insists on driving you to your apartment and you don’t have it in you to argue. All it took was one look from you and he knew.

After another round of hugs, you’re in the passenger seat as Derek drives your car out of the Quantico parking deck for the last time. You fall asleep on the way home.

He wakes you gently when he gets to your apartment, unbuckling you and helping you out. Up the stairs and into your apartment. 

You stand like a ghost in the middle of the kitchen. The place on the counter that once held the bottle of wine you shared with Aaron now sits empty, glaring. The couch where you have tossed and turned countless nights -- and where Aaron once slept -- threatens to swallow you whole. 

You didn’t realize how much of Aaron is in this apartment until he’s gone forever. He’ll never be here again, but there is no getting rid of these memories, his shadow that still dances on the far wall. A time long forgotten, a man that hasn’t existed for some months. 

You turn around to see Morgan watching you, tears filling his eyes. You blink and feel the warm tears rush down your cheeks. Morgan has his arms wrapped around you in the next second, tucking you into his chest.

“I know,” he says softly, propping his chin on the top of your head. “I’m so sorry.”

Your sobs only grow louder, your grip on his shirt tighter. You’ll fall over if he doesn’t hold you up. He holds you up for as long as you need.

“I can’t stay here,” you say, the words muffled into his chest. 

But he hears you. “I know.”

+++

You move out of the apartment the next week, after staying in a guest bedroom at Rossi’s. Derek lets you live in one of the properties he recently renovated, free of charge, until you can find another place of your own.  

You don’t know if you’ll stay in the area, or if you’ll move farther away. The truth is, no amount of distance would suffice. No matter where you go, you’ll forever be running away from the memories of this.

So, you decide to stay close to your friends. Derek becomes Unit Chief (Rossi refused to take on that much responsibility). JJ becomes less liaison and more field agent. Emily toys with the idea of leaving, but nothing sticks. Reid is going nowhere. And as long as Derek is there, Penelope is there. You don’t know what the next years will bring, but for now, everyone is close, and dinners at Rossi’s house are frequent.

You’re in therapy twice a week and meeting with your psychiatrist once a month. You don’t know how much any of it is helping, but you’re able to eat and somewhat sleep, so things are better. Relatively.

Aaron is buried next to Haley and Jack. You visit him once. You haven’t gone back since. But you think about him every day.

Love is a funny, funny thing. For you to still love him after everything that happened, after the attempts on your life. For your heart to still hold onto the small parts, the moments before it all, when he was nothing but a crush, a casual affair, a man you stumbled into bed with while laughing, a man that if he had stuck around a little longer, you might’ve seen a future with. 

Letting go of him means letting go of all of it -- good days included -- and a part of you just isn’t ready for that yet. 

So, you spend your days floating. Making it through. Fighting the ghosts that crawl their way onto your back. Letting them linger and letting them go. One by one. Until the only one left is Aaron himself, hanging off of you, arms around your neck, face nuzzled into your shoulder. 

You’ll always miss him, probably as much as you’ll always love him. The version before he became the person you killed. Part of you died when you fired your gun that day. A part of you that you’ll never be able to get back. But you’re not sure if you want it back. Maybe it was meant to die. The consequence of killing him meant you killed part of yourself, too. 

So, you get through your days as best as you can. As a person half-alive. Forever changed, and not for the better. Always wishing for the past to return, hating the present, and dreading the future.

Because you were happy once -- with Aaron. You don’t know if you’ll ever be happy again.

You dream of him almost every night, though you don't tell your therapist the dreams are that frequent. You dream of what could've been. The life the two of you might've built. A fantasy world where you moved on from the BAU, he stayed Unit Chief, and the two of you grew closer, bought rings, settled down. A life worth living. A life better than the one you got.

He will always be gone. You will never be in his arms ever again. And these are the facts that haunt you every morning when you open your eyes.

You killed a man. Who happened to be the man you loved. Facts you can't escape. A judge ruling in favor of your self-defense doesn't quiet the thoughts, the questions of if you had behaved differently. You took a life. And it was the life you wanted most to save.

In the end, are you any better than he was?

[ihopesocomic]

One statement you guys said really hit me hard but in a way that made me feel glad to see it being said by other people.

‘Abuse victims don’t need to be criticized, they’re already doing it to themselves’

I’m not an abuse victim (maybe I am, I’m honestly not sure at this point) but I do struggle with mental health issues and it makes living my everyday life hard, especially dealing with other personal issues that’s not making it any easier. Despite having loved ones know my state and what I’m going through, I still get scolded at or criticized and I really don’t need to hear that, especially since I’m already scolding myself whenever I mess up. Cursing at myself for not doing better. I don’t need to hear it from the people I need support from and most times, I just suck it up and go ‘it’s my fault- I should have done better’.

Like I know- I deal with it every day, it’s not like I asked to have these mental illnesses.

So it’s always refreshing to see this community from time to time. Maybe hopefully I’ll be in a place where I’ll no longer deal with it, as well as everyone else who is in any horrific situation.

Sorry to hear about what you've gone through, anon, I've certainly been there where I've often wondered if things had been different if I had a rewind button or hell, if I was a completely different person. And that's applicable to both my abuse and my mental health.

So, I completely get it and when I see people pointing the finger at abuse victims or characters trying to make a statement for said victims, it's just wild to me because you're putting the expectation of acting like a normal, everyday person with no worries or flaws on an individual that not only probably has other things going on mentally/physically but has also been broken down to nothing. All the while... they're thinking why they can't be that and maybe that's the reason this shit happens.

And that's fucked up.

It's why we're trying our best to make this an understanding and empathetic community. It's why we're so vocal and sometimes borderline aggressive with certain things because there's just nothing worse than getting into media that you feel that cares about you and you see other fans using it as a springboard to cast judgement over the situation being depicted. Your situation.

And there's nothing wrong with people having their own interpretation of things. But when said interpretation is just a means to drop ice cold takes like 'people who are being abused and don't make steps to leave are just weak/selfish and not actually victims', then we feel we have to step in, I'm afraid. - RJ