#is it really a cliffhanger if you know whats going to happen in the next chapter?

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

The tension in the room was so thick, Gwyn could have cut it with a knife. Azriel looked wild and somehow pained, his expressions shifting second to second along with what must have been his chaotic thoughts. She exhaled a breath and pressed a hand to his chest, which seemed to strengthen some unknowable resolve.

“Everything will be fine,” she began, wondering if she was reassuring him or herself. “We’ll talk to Eris—”

“Let me take you home,” Azriel interrupted. Gwyn nearly screamed out loud. Of course that was his solution. Of course he’d think she should go back to Prythian, leaving him to deal with whatever the Vanserras wanted while she sat in a library.

“Are you serious right now?” she asked, taking a step away from him. Crossing his arms over his chest, it was clear that yes, Azriel was very serious. 

“The Vanserras are dangerous,” Azriel said, his voice pitched lower than was typical. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, but you do? I’m dangerous, Az, and I can handle myself just fine. If you want to go home so badly, be my guest. I won’t stop you. But I’m staying.”

“Gwyn—”

“No. No. I can’t…I won’t do this with you, Azriel. Either you mean it when you say you care about me—that you trust me, or you don’t. Decide. Right now. Either we’re equals or we’re not and I just want to know where I stand with you.”

This was it and Gwyn knew it. Whatever Azriel said would determine how they moved forward—if they moved forward at all. After everything that had happened between them, it seemed almost cruel to provide him with an ultimatum, but Gwyn wasn’t going back. She wasn’t going to hide in the library, lost in her regrets and wishing things could be different. They were different. 

She was different. 

There was no point following through on the promises she’d just been willing to make if Azriel was never going to make good on his. Why train her, why teach her to use weapons or how to take the likes of him down if every time there was danger, Azriel was going to swoop in and hide her away?

What was his problem? 

There clearly was one, because the only reasonable answer was to immediately assure her that he trusted her. Not war with himself between what he actually wanted—she assumed that was her returning to Velaris—and knowing that if he took her back, she’d never see him again. Gwyn’s heart thudded in her throat against the long stretch of silence.

“I—” His throat bobbed, working against whatever emotion he was swallowing. “I’m sorry—I…I’m scared.”

The admission hung between them. Azriel was so many things to Gwyn and frightened was never one of them. Azriel wasn’t afraid of anything, including death. How many stories had she heard of him running head long into battle, damning the consequences? What could he possibly be afraid of when surely Eris Vanserra was no threat to the likes of him?

“Eris is all talk,” she dismissed, sliding around him in an effort to clear her senses. She could still feel his rigid cock held in her hand and if she wasn’t careful, she’d make Eris wait on them.

Presumably, for hours. 

It was a good plan—one she would have succeeded in, had Azriel not followed just behind her. Dragging a hand through his hair with frustration, Azriel growled, “He has plenty of bite—don’t let his pretty face fool you.”

“Oh, is it pretty? I hadn’t noticed,” she said with too much innuendo. She hadn’t meant to be so suggestive, though she also didn’t mind that soft growl that slipped from Azriel’s throat. He’d always been a little territorial—obnoxiously so, if she was being honest—but now? This was why she hadn’t wanted to sleep with him. He was going to take things too far. 

That should have bothered her, but right then, Gwyn wanted Azriel to take things too far. It was the worst possible time, in the worst possible place, and she couldn’t really focus on the threat of the Vanserra’s because Azriel was staring down at her with eyes so dark there might have been no color to them at all. Just endless pools of starless night threatening to devour her. 

Azriel cocked his head to the side, all animal, and Gwyn knew right then, that he could scent what she wasn’t trying to conceal. He didn’t seem to breathe as she dared to come closer, pressing her hand to his still chest. 

“I don’t care about Eris Vanserra,” she murmured, peering up at him through dark lashes. “Lock the door. He can wait.”

“Gwyn,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

She didn’t think she could take it if he told her no. Her pride certainly could not withstand that level of rejection no matter how valid it was. Gwyn was tempted to say something to him that might change his mind, but right then she felt nervous. Too vulnerable for speech, too embarrassed to do anything but remain rooted in place as the realization of what she’d said swept over her.

Oh. Oh no. 

She was becoming the thing she’d sworn she wouldn’t be. Resolve slammed into her, stealing her spine as the memory of all those months training washed back over her. The recognition that this, right here, was why she had to quit training with him. Why she needed to step away before he did any more irreversible damage to herself. 

Oblivious to her racing thoughts, perhaps to her detriment, Azriel grabbed her upper arm the moment she started to step back and without a word, pressed his mouth to her own. She’d expected hunger and heat—not desperation to greet her. His other arm wound around her waist, holding her so tightly there was nowhere to go. That was by design, though Gwyn had nowhere she wanted to go.

There were a million things to be afraid of, but this right here—and the way she felt about him? That was, perhaps, the most terrifying thing. Instinct warred between walking away from him again and staying where she was, letting go and giving in, pulling and pushing until Gwyn was muddled and confused.

And yet there was clarity in that kiss. Reason, among the madness, was found in his lips. She didn’t realize they were moving, that she was taking steps toward something until Azriel was pulling her into his lap, himself seated on that sofa. 

“If I start,” he breathed, trailing his mouth over her jaw and down her neck, “I won’t be able to stop.” Something twanged within her—something old, something primal. “Good,” she replied, raking her fingers through his dark hair. 

“You deserve better than this,” he said, scarred hands coming to cup her face so she had to look at him. “Better than a rushed coupling so I can race off to deal with Eris. Wait for me. For tonight,” he added, a plea to his words. 

Wrapping her fingers around his wrists, Gwyn met that hungry, desperate gaze. “Together?”

“We’ll do everything together,” he swore softly, a lethal menace to those words. “Let someone try and stop us.”

Gwyn kissed him again, unable to deny what she felt or what was happening between them. Love. 

This was love. 

Somewhere between swearing she’d never train with him again and looking into those hazel eyes swearing he’d do everything with her if she wanted. Goosebumps erupted over her arms, drawing ice through her fingers. She was excited and she was scared all at once. Dread and elation pooled in her gut though Gwyn did a good job of concealing both. Azriel didn’t seem alarmed by what he saw, at any rate. 

“Can you stand?” she asked when Azriel shifted his hips, revealing the hard cock just beneath.

Closing his eyes, head tipped back, he breathed, “Give me a moment. If I think about Vanserra long enough, it’ll pass.”

Gwyn tried to slide off his lap, and was too delighted when he tightened his grip, holding her tight. “You hate him so much. Why?”

Azriel looked up at the ceiling. “He’s a bastard.”

“That’s not a real reason. Tell me.”

“When I was young—in my twenties—Eris was engaged to Mor.”

The words hung between them for a moment, weighty as Azriel considered what he wanted to say. This was ancient, then. Old, unfinished business between them that Azriel had never forgotten. 

He didn’t look at her as he added, “I was in love with her.”

Oh. 

Gwyn could see Mor so clearly in her mind right then. Beautiful in such an easy, effortless way. All that golden hair, her beautiful eyes…and the way she’d been looking at Emerie, she reminded herself before jealousy could fully take root. It was impossible, though, not to compare herself to Mor. Not to imagine Azriel with his fingers curled around Mor’s waist, his lips against her neck—

“Mor was never interested in me,” Azriel continued, blazing through this confession like he needed to say it. “But I thought, back then at least…maybe…it didn’t matter. She was engaged to Eris and Rhys could do nothing about it. Wouldn’t do anything about it,” Azriel added, as if that were important to the story or to him. Gwyn certainly wasn’t going to wade into that old fight, though she saw there were leftover scars that had healed poorly. 

“Mor took things into her own hands—she came to our camp in Illyria and she slept with Cassian. Virginity…it’s…it’s important in the Autumn Court. It’s an old custom for females of nobility and a point of pride for males. Mor decided if no one would help her, she would do what we’d always done—she’d help herself.”

“You slept with her?” Gwyn questioned, her blood turning to ice. She didn’t think she could stand knowing that Azriel had both loved her and slept with her, unfair as it was. This was centuries old, a drama older than her, than her parents, and likely her grandparents. 

Azriel shook his head. “No. I told you…she never wanted me. She went to Cassian. Everyone knew. It was an open secret in the camp, and secrets like that are hard to keep. There was no love lost between the three of us and the rest of the Illyrian’s, who already felt we were given special treatment because we were so close to the High Lord. Someone told Keir—but rumor had already begun to spread around Hewn City and Beron knew before Keir could control the situation.”

Azriel took a breath as if he needed to control himself. Gwyn swore she could feel his rage somehow, though maybe it was just her own anger as she imagined what it must have been like for Mor back then. Sold, by her own parents, like she was mere cattle for breeding. Knowing that she had no good options and still trying to do something that gave her agency. 

“Keir nailed a note to Mor’s womb and dumped her into Autumn letting them know she was their problem now,” Azriel whispered, his voice lethal. Whatever Gwyn had been imagining paled in comparison to the reality. 

“Eris could have helped her. He found her before me—we weren’t allowed to step foot into Autumn so we had to wait. Cassian, Rhys and I…we were patrolling sections of the border between Autumn, Summer, Spring, and Winter. Flying overhead, trying to find her, we—we were going to get her even if it started a war. But it was Eris who found her first. Who saw how injured she was, who could have helped. He left her there, where I found her hours later and…” 

Azriel fell silent, eyes glazed as he relived that moment. As he considered what it still meant to him and the hatred he’d never be able to let go of. 

“He’ll say he couldn’t intervene. That it was better, politically, to look the other way while I stalked across that border and brought her into Summer. But the truth is Eris is a coward, too scared to do anything that might endanger him, first. He’d let his brothers die, he’d let his mother suffer, and he’d see the rest of the world burn to keep himself safe first and I hate him for it.”

There was nothing else to say. Even if Gwyn did have a defense for Eris—and she didn’t—she wouldn’t have offered it up to Azriel. There were other questions she had, questions that felt too embarrassing to ask.

Are you still in love with Mor? 

She swallowed that one, terrified he’d say yes. What had happened, in the aftermath? She’d never wanted him, so maybe nothing at all…but had something? And did he know they’d had a whole dinner in Velaris right before Gwyn left specifically trying to catch Mor’s attention because Emerie thought she was beautiful? 

Questions better left for another time.

“So how do we play this?” she asked instead, because she wanted to be a team more than she wanted to plumb the depths of his life before her. Gwyn simply had to trust that, at least here and now, she was the only female Azriel cared about. That whatever feelings he had for Mor had fizzled over the years until only friendship remained. Perhaps when Eris was gone, and they were back in Velaris.

Or maybe Gwyn would tell Nesta all this and they could compare notes. Did she know Cassian had slept with Mor? Did she even care? Gwyn couldn’t imagine Nesta being cool about it, but what did she truly know? Nesta and Cassian were mates and that changed things.

“Carefully,” Azriel said after a moment, his expression wiped clean of its former fury. “Eris’s weapons are his words. Give him nothing to work with, let him back himself into a corner. And we can’t kill him.”

“Are you saying that to me or yourself?”

“Is there a difference?” he murmured without any awareness of what he was implying. “Knives stay under the skirts.”

“I’m tired of dresses,” Gwyn mumbled, swinging her legs off him to stand. 

“I’ll have you out of them soon enough.”

He couldn’t see the grin that spread over her face, though he likely knew the heat spreading through her. Gwyn merely waved her hand.

“Big words, Shadowsinger.”

AZRIEL:

Unlike Eris, Azriel didn’t need a mask for his boredom. He was bored—irritated, even, made worse by Gwyn sitting close enough his knee was touching hers. Fully clothed when her perfect hand had been wrapped around his cock and she’d been all but begging him to take her. Gods, Azriel couldn’t focus on a smug word leaving Eris’s mouth. And Eris knew it. Knew what Gwyn hadn’t yet figured out, putting a countdown on a conversation Azriel wasn’t sure how to have. He’d just gotten her to open up to him and Eris was going to wreck it all before Azriel built the sort of intimacy he was certain he needed.

All he knew for certain was the information had to come from him rather than Eris Vanserra. Gwyn, lovely, perfect Gwyn, was doing the hard work of making small talk with Eris. She’d put on her most charming demeanor and Azriel wondered if she wasn’t playing dumb on purpose. Eris, on the other hand, had a gleam in his eye reminiscent of a wolf unaware his sheep was really a dragon in disguise. 

“I’ve never been to Autumn,” Gwyn was saying, tucking a long piece of that cinnamon colored hair behind an arched ear.

Azriel was in love with her and gods, but he wanted to tell her so badly it made his teeth ache. She played Eris so well—hadn’t the first born son been told Gwyn was a scholar from the Night Court? And wouldn’t he assume she was smarter than the average High Fae? But Eris was buying her bright eyed, too-idealistic act which left Azriel left to play the brooding bodyguard. That was a role he knew all too well, at least. And Eris had the decency to keep his eyes fully on Gwyn’s beautiful face rather than let it drift.

Azriel might have abandoned his no violence policy had Eris not managed this. He had one hand clenched beneath the table, nails digging into his palm to keep himself from squeezing the life from Eris’s smug, imperious eyes.

As Eris described Autumn to an enraptured Gwyn, Azriel’s thoughts once again drifted to his mate. He needed to tell her. It was a last ditch attempt, sleeping with her and hoping it snapped for her then. Azriel knew that had worked for Cassian in theory. Nesta had felt it…and chose not to acknowledge it.

He might go insane if that happened to him and Gwyn. So focused on his inner thoughts, Azriel nearly missed Gwyn’s sweet, “Is the High Lord joining us?”

“He’s around,” Eris replied with a bored wave of his hand. “I’m certain he’s looking for Helion—”

“Helion?” Azriel interrupted. Helion arriving had Rhys written all over it. Eris’s eyes shifted, that smile sharpening at the corners. Fuck. Azriel hadn’t meant to say anything at all. 

“Did your High Lord not inform you? Fascinating given how long you’ve been here…”

Azriel didn’t respond, leaving Gwyn to scramble. Without missing a beat, she threw that sunny smile on her face and said, “We’re only here for the library. I can’t remember the last time the prince stopped by to say hello. I’m sure he’s too busy for us.”

Eris glanced up at Azriel, two lines of concern creasing between his brow. “You haven’t seen him?”

“In at least a week,” Gwyn replied without betraying her real question. “Perhaps we will now that more emissaries from Prythian are visiting.”

“I was under the impression–” Eris stopped himself before he could finish that thought. Gwyn glanced “Well. I suppose we’ll all learn together, won’t we?”

Gwyn’s smile never wavered. “It’ll be nice to get to know all the new courts. We could keep in touch.”

Eris was clearly lost in his own thoughts, eyes drifting across the room. Azriel turned his head to look, curious what had drawn Eris’s attention from the cat and mouse game happening at their current table. Helion had sauntered in, every inch the Day Court High Lord in his white draped robe and the gold jewelry adorning his gleaming bronze skin. Something about him was striking right then—an expression Azriel had seen once before, though he couldn’t remember when.

Eris’s upper lip had curled with distaste, his dislike plain against his features. Flanked on either side of the High Lord were two others—a rather beautiful blonde with a book tucked beneath her arm and a male with the same onyx colored hair as the High Lord. Both wore azure clothes, their eyes lined with kohl.

The trio didn’t spare Night and Autumn a second look, making their way toward the high table. Eris didn’t take his eyes off them until they were fully behind them, though his expression was inscrutable. Still, it was something. It shouldn’t have surprised Azriel that Eris didn’t like any of the other courts, nor was it really worth following up on, and yet he would have been a poor spymaster if he didn’t order his shadows after both Helion and Eris.

After all, Eris and Helion would likely be trying to spy on him, too. The High Lords loved their secrets almost as much as they loved their games. Whatever was going on between Autumn and Day was for them—not Night. Azriel and Gwyn were nearly done, besides. She merely needed to finish her cypher for the two to return with her stolen book on Koschei. They didn’t need anything else—not really. Though, it occurred to him right then that his shadow had never returned from Koschei’s lake. 

Strange.

He’d need to follow up on that. 

Azriel was distracted and couldn’t even pretend he didn’t know why. If he’d come alone he’d be on top of all of this and right then, Azriel wondered if Rhys hadn’t suspected. Of all the people…of everyone who could have come, Rhys had insisted it be Gwyn. Untested. Unknown. Azriel’s mate. Had his brother suspected? 

No.

No, Rhys would have warned him surely. Or, at the very least, put them in a better environment. Though…Azriel remembered all the shenanigans Rhys had gotten up to with Feyre around and oblivious. Maybe not. Azriel was spinning himself in circles, unable to focus and he knew he wouldn’t until Gwyn knew, too.

At least then he could free himself of the indecision. Get back to working—throw himself into it, even, if need be. He’d always been good at distracting himself, and this would be no exception. He had centuries of practice with Mor, though Azriel suspected this would be infinitely more painful.

Pain was home, though. He lived there, loved there—worshiped at its altar. 

Glancing at Eris, Azriel wondered if the prince of Autumn didn’t understand that, in some strange way. He almost felt pity, catching a familiar look of yearning streak across Eris’s features—gone so quickly Azriel could have lied to himself and said he imagined it. 

“Did you want something, Eris?” Azriel demanded, ignoring the cooling food on his plate.

Eris offered a fox’s smile. “Only the pleasure of your stimulating company.”

Gwyn never broke character, which was more than Azriel could boast. She merely continued eating, pretending this was a normal conversation between normal people. Friends, even. Eris stood, though, catching the eye of his father striding into the room with the king.

“Bye!” she called after Eris’s retreating back before adding, “Prick,” under her breath.

“You were charming,” Azriel said from the side of his mouth, noting how neither father or son deigned to look in his direction. Why would they? He was merely a bastard born Illyrian, after all. Trash, as far as they were concerned. 

“Isn’t that why I’m here? To smooth out your edges?” she teased and gods, he wanted her so badly it was making a fool of him.

“More than you know,” he replied, pulling his wings tighter against his body to keep them from flaring outward. Not that anyone would understand what that meant, and still it was probably better not to have a preening, territorial Illyrian stomping about the dining hall.

He needed to get them both out which was harder than he thought it would be given Gwyn was fixated on the missing prince. “Where is Kai, do you think?” she asked when Azriel stood, unconcerned himself. Who cared? Kai’s absence was the only good thing that had happened lately, utterly eradicating any competition to Gwyn Azriel might have had.

After all, he wasn’t convinced he could compete with a prince. 

She would have realized, had Kai stuck around, the choices being offered. Would have realized she could live easier with Kai than she ever could in Velaris, no matter how much she loved it. And Azriel had nearly convinced himself that she would have chosen Kai—because why would anyone choose him when there was another option readily available—until Gwyn murmured, “I miss Nesta and Emerie.”

Walking down the hall with her, Azriel glanced down at Gwyn, his expression inviting her to continue. 

“It’s just…I would have told them about Eris, and we would have laughed about how pathetic he is. And I’ll bet Nesta knows something about that courtier from Day he was staring at—”

“What courtier?” Azriel demanded, his shadows swirling around his shoulders.

“The blonde. You didn’t see? He had tragedy written all over him when she came in.”

He didn’t need to tell the shadow slinking away what to do. If Gwyn thought she saw something—however absurd it felt—then Azriel would follow up on it. 

“We’ll be home soon enough,” Azriel said, pulling their shared door open so she could sweep in, still a princess, even if all she had was him. “You can tell Nesta and Emerie everything then.”

“Everything?” Gwyn challenged, crossing her arms over her chest to stare him down. 

“Most things,” Azriel amended. “Nesta tells Cassian too much and I don’t need him knowing what I do when he’s not around.”

“Why would he care?” Gwyn pressed, but Azriel didn’t want to talk about Cassian for another moment. Didn’t want to think about Cassian. This was as good of a moment as he was going to get, he reasoned. There would never be any time better, at least while they were in this palace. 

Azriel didn’t answer, unwilling to admit Cassian would find it all absurdly funny much in the same way he and Rhys had a good laugh over Cassian’s trouble with Nesta, and how Cassian and Azriel had been so amused by how oblivious Feyre had been to Rhys’s obvious affection.

They weren’t blood brothers.

But stupidity ran between them like a cord, strong as any mating bond. Reaching for her face, Azriel kissed her before she could say another word, hoping to pick up where they’d left off just before Eris had so rudely interrupted them.

He hadn’t forgotten the pleasure of her soft hand gripping his aching cock, nor could he erase the look in her eyes from his memory. That sultry look was enough to drive him to his knees, to make him beg, crawl, plead. He’d do anything she demanded and more simply because it was her lips speaking the words. 

She didn’t protest, melting against the leather of his armor he was now desperate to get rid himself of. Instead, Gwyn kissed him back, hoisting herself up on tiptoes until Azriel said fuck it and lifted her into the air, if only for an excuse to put his hands on her ass. 

He was brainless by the time he managed to walk them into his bed chamber, made weak by her tongue stroking his own and her fingers in his hair. Had he ever been so aroused? So desperate? So excited? Azriel racked his brain for an answer but none came. There was only those teal eyes, that freckled skin.

“Is this happening?” she asked him, her breath warm against his cheek.

“If you want me, I’m yours,” he replied, saying the only words that came to him. 

Stroking his cheek, Gwyn looked down at him, her hair forming a curtain around them. “I want you. You’re mine.”

A groan slipped from behind his lips, their gazes locked. 

They were doing this.

“I’m yours,” he repeated.

I’m yours. 

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Fandom things I'm looking forward to:

Kingdom Hearts IV and Missing Link

Final Fantasy VII Rebirth

Final Fantasy IX Remake

Final Fantasy Tactics Remaster or Remake (whichever it is. I've heard both things)

The fourth Madoka Magica movie, whenever that comes out (seriously. Where is it? First it was announced as the Concept movie. Then it was re-announced years later with a new name, and it's still missing)

The Percy Jackson TV show

The Infernal Devices TV show

Maybe the Twilight TV show. Maybe.

The animated Smallville continuation that Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum are working on, whenever it comes out

I was going to put Baron and Toluca on this list (that's, like, a spiritual successor to the OG "Roswell" TV show. Majandra Delfino who played Maria in the show wrote the script, and she and Brendan Fehr who played Michael star in it. They're also planning for more Roswell cameos in later episodes), but it came out and I didn't even know it? But I have no idea how to watch it, though, as I guess it only came out in theaters in Albuquerque. Here's hoping it comes out on DVD or something...

The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes

The alleged Firefly reboot

The new Daredevil show

The Batman Part II

The next part in Tom Holland's Spider-Man movies

The DCU, starting with Superman Legacy in 2025

The Five Nights at Freddy's movie and Help Wanted 2

The Iron Lung movie

The TV show that it sounds like Markiplier will be working on after he's done with the Iron Lung movie

The next Bendy and the Ink Machine thing being worked on

MAYBE the Hello Neighbor sequel. I know. I KNOW! (It's really only because the second game had to end on a cliffhanger.)

Five Nights at Candy's 4

Frozen III

Disney's "Wish"

The next and final season of the Clear Card arc of Cardcaptor Sakura

The new Avatar series (the one about the third Avatar in the cycle: the Earth bender)

The live-action Avatar: The Last Airbender series, perhaps

The Chosen season 4

[wewindondowntheroad]

Empresses in the Palace has me in a choke hold, for legal reasons I cannot disclose how many episodes of it I'm watching a day

[triptuckers]

drunk in love - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing: remy lebeau x reader Summary: remy is comes home drunk, so you take care of him Warnings: mentions of alcohol, language, mentions of sexual themes/making out but not actually the real thing dont worry, remy being a whiny lovesick puppy, one mention of throwing up but no actual throwing up Word count: 1.7K A/N: currently binge watching x men 97 PLEASE give me more gambit content pls marvel I'm willing to beg you on my knees. based on a screenshot I saw of a comic page. enjoy!

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you're sitting on the couch, reading your book. it's dark outside, and the clock on the wall tells you it's way too late for you to be awake. you weren't a night owl, but this book was just too good. every time you want to put it away, a chapter ends in a cliffhanger. you couldn't bring yourself to close it without finding out what happened next.

the story is so good and you're so focused on it, you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear the door knob rattle.

it was late and remy wasn't home. he went out drinking with some of the other x-men. it wasn't often they were all free and in the same city, so you knew if it did happen, remy would usually stay out til late. not coming home til long after you'd gone to bed already.

you weren't expecting him to come home this early, so you're immediately on guard. slowly, you put your book down and creep closer to the front door. you grab the closest thing you can find to use as a weapon. you don't know how much damage a tissue box could do, but at the very least you could throw it at the intruder and run away.

remy had tried to teach you some self defence tricks in case something happened and he wasn't home, but he was nearly always right there with you, so you never really learned it.

you wish you had paid him more attention now.

as you get closer to the front door, you see a shadow silhouetted against the glass. and then you hear a voice, cursing while trying to open the door.

'merde... why won't this fucking key fit... fuck off...'

you unlock the door and open it. maybe a little too quickly, because remy all but stumbles into you. you barely manage to catch him.

when he looks up at you, he gives you a dazzling smile with his eyes half closed. 'hello, mon amour.' he says.

you laugh softly and roll your eyes as you shake your head. of course he'd stumble home drunk. you already know your evening is far from over when he's like this.

'come on.' you say. 'let's get you inside.'

remy does a spectacularly bad job at getting up. and he's heavy.

'remy.' you say, holding on to him. 'work with me here.'

you manage to get him inside and lock the door again. remy is looking at you with a smile on his face.

'I hadn't expected you back yet.' you say, walking into the kitchen.

remy follows you and grabs one of your hands with both of his.

'I missed you, chéri.' he says, pulling you close and nuzzling his face in your neck.

'we live together, remy. I saw you this afternoon.' you say.

you feel his lips press against the side of your neck. you briefly close your eyes and allow yourself to revel in the feeling. then you gently push him away.

you hear remy whine and turn to see him pout at you.

'you don't love me anymore?' he says.

'of course I do, my love.' you say. 'but you're drunk. you need to drink some water and go to bed.'

you grab a clean glass and walk over to the sink. as you're filling it up with water, you can sense remy's presence behind you. seconds later, you feel his hands on your hips and his chin on your shoulder.

you mange to turn around in his arms and hand him the glass of water.

'drink up.'

'can I get a kiss afterwards?'

you roll your eyes. you don't want to admit you think it's adorable when he's this handsy and affectionate. you would only encourage him and you really meant it: you wouldn't do anything when he's drunk. he'd do the same if the roles were reversed.

'sure, love, you can get a kiss afterwards.'

you have to hold back your laughter as remy's eyes light up and he downs the glass in one go. you smirk and blow him a kiss before he can lean in.

'hey, what the fuck! no fair!' he exclaims, frowning.

'come on.' you say, holding out your hand to him. 'let's go to bed.'

he all but stumbles over his feet in his haste to grab your hand and follow you.

'yeah, let's go to bed.' you hear remy say behind you. you can tell by the tone in his voice you two have different ideas about 'going to bed'.

'to sleep, remy.' you clarify.

he sighs so loudly you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. you smile to yourself, amused at how fast his moods change when he's drunk. and about the fact he's such a love sick puppy when he's had a few. that is, more of a love sick puppy than he normally is. god, he really loves you.

when you get to your bedroom, you motion for remy to sit down on the bed. you kneel down to untie his boots.

'loving this view, mon amour.' comes remy's voice from above you. 'you know I love it when you get on your knees for me.'

'I'm just taking off your boots.'

'sure you are.'

'I am, remy.'

'are you sure?'

'yes, I am sure.'

remy sighs dramatically and lets himself fall back onto the bed. you glance up at him and see how tight his pants are. of course he'd not only be overly affectionate, but also turned on.

you tug off his boots and socks, raising to your feet.

'stand up for me, please.' you say.

remy opens his eyes and smirks at you from his position on the bed.

'now this view, I like.'

'it's literally so late remy, come on, I want to go to bed.'

he takes a hold of the hand you offer him and lets you pull him to his feet. you reach out to undo his belt.

'wow, chéri, buy me dinner first.' remy mumbles above you. you can tell by his quiet voice he's ready to go to sleep but fighting to stay awake. you wonder how much of this he'll remember tomorrow.

after undoing his belt and helping him out of his pants, you tell him to put his arms up so you can pull his shirt over his head. he does what you ask and doesn't even make a flirty comment about it. that tells you his tiredness is really kicking in.

you briefly step away to get a pair of sweatpants and a shirt out of the closet. as you hand them to him, you allow remy to rest his hand on your shoulder as he puts on the pants you've given him. you let your eyes linger on his muscular chest as he puts on the shirt. you really did get lucky with him, even if he can't keep his hands off of you when he's drunk.

you gently guide him to the bed and help him lay down. you get into the bed next to him and feel how remy pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck.

'you will kiss me tomorrow, right?' he mumbles against your skin.

you run your hands lazily through his hair. 'if you aren't hungover as fuck, which I think you will be, then yes, I'll kiss you, my love.' you say.

'oh fuck yes.' he says, making you chuckle softly.

'goodnight, remy.' you say.

'sweet dreams, mon amour.' he says.

just as you expected, remy falls asleep within seconds. you lay there for a while, absently running your fingers through his hair and thinking about how much you love him, before you eventually fall asleep as well.

when you wake up in the morning, your chest feels heavy. you open your eyes to see remy has somehow put his entire body on yours during the night.

you stay like that for a while, until you can no longer deny you really want breakfast.

with some effort, you push remy off of you so you can get up. he's still asleep as you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

as you make breakfast, you're softly humming to yourself while you're in the kitchen.

your morning is quiet. you decide to let remy sleep for as long as he wants, maybe it would make his hangover less extreme.

just as you're making your lunch, you hear remy coming down the stairs. he stumbles into the kitchen, grumbling something in thick accented cajun you can't understand.

then he all but leans his entire body weight on you as he's standing behind you.

'why does the world hate me?' he says.

you laugh. 'good afternoon to you too, my love.'

'morning.' he mumbles. 'your voice is so loud, chéri.'

'this is the thanks I get for taking care of your drunk ass last night?'

'sorry. was I being an asshole?'

'no, just the usual. you couldn't keep your hands off of me.'

'you're used to that.'

'I am.'

you turn around. remy wraps his arms around you and drops his forehead to your shoulder.

'is this what dying feels like?' he mumbles.

'no, my love, this is what being extremely hungover feels like.' you say. 'you want coffee?'

'dear god no, the thought of it makes me want to throw up. I'll just lay on the couch.'

'you're so dramatic.' you say, gently taking a hold of his face and holding it in front of you.

remy closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 'this is making me feel better already.'

you lean in and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. when you pull back, he opens his eyes and smiles briefly at you. then he sways a bit on his feet and sucks in a sharp breath.

'still want to kiss me like you said yesterday?'

'oh, mon amour, I think if I stand really still and you don't move, the world stops spinning.'

you laugh at him as he groans, pressing one hand to his forehead. you decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. the two of you alternate between taking naps and you reading your book out loud to him. as the day passes, you can't help but to think that maybe a hungover remy isn't so bad. you secretly love how he refuses to leave your side when he's hungover.

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[schrodingerscougar]

Part two for this one. I'm sorry for the cliffhanger in the first part. The illustration is from the amazing @ave661 .

--

Four months. That’s how much time it took Simon to get out of that hazy fugue state. He didn’t really remember what he had gone through during that time, his brain switched to autopilot after the breakup. He often wondered why it affected him this much when he didn’t even love you. You were just someone he spent time with, someone he tried to play house with for a short while to feel normal.

Still, now as he lay on his bed, watching the ceiling fan rotate to stir up the hot air in the room, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He even found himself opening a social media app to search for your name from a fake account he had set up a long time ago, and he was shocked to see the most recent photo of you. It was impossible to miss the unmistakable shape of a baby bump under your shirt, and based on its size, you got pregnant long months ago.

When he was finally allowed to go home for a short while, Simon went to see you. He knew he had hurt you, he knew you were probably still mad at him, but he had to know if it was his child. It only happened one time. One night when he tried to fix things by giving you what you wanted, hoping sex could make him see you in another light. Maybe he would finally want you the way you always wanted him to want you. But it didn’t work, and it was after that night he made the final decision to end things with you.

“What do you want?” you asked him when you opened the door.

Simon nodded as he bit the inside of his cheek. This cold welcome was fair enough, he deserved this kind of treatment. Normally, he would have left you alone. But normally, you would have told him you were pregnant.

So he silently pointed at your belly and waited for you to realize what he wanted. He knew you weren't dumb, the pieces would fall into place in a second. And sure enough, you let out a sigh then opened the door wider to let him in.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked you as he stood in the kitchen next to you with his arms crossed.

You were busy making him a cup of tea, but you took the time to silently shrug. When he let out a heavy sigh, you looked over at him and said, “I didn't think you'd care, Si. Simple as that.”

You were right. He didn't care. Even now that he was looking at you, his eyes occasionally moving to the bump that hid his own blood, his mind was somewhere else. He was a soldier, he knew how to take responsibility for his actions. You getting pregnant was his fault too. He couldn't just ignore the problem.

“I’ll pay child support,” he assured you.

“No need.”

Simon reached out to put a hand on the base of your neck, but you quickly pushed his hand away before he could touch your skin. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You inhaled through your nose and held your breath in for a few seconds before finally exhaling. “So what? You’re gonna be around and help us? Take her to a doctor’s appointment or for a stroll around the block?” When you saw him looking down at his shoes, you couldn’t help but snort. “Thought so,” you said.

“I’ll better get going. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Months flew by, but Simon barely noticed. He was on a mission again far from home, risking his life as usual. You never called and he didn’t force it. He accepted that he would have to live with the guilt of making this happen. Since you didn’t want to accept child support, he opened a bank account where he stored that money, hoping that one day he could give it to you or his daughter when she became old enough.

One day he checked your social media accounts like he had done a few times before, just to see how you were. This is when he saw the post in which you announced the arrival of your baby girl. He didn’t make a big deal out of it at first. She was born and she would probably ask about her father one day. If he was still alive then, he would gladly give her a toned down explanation. If not… Well, he left everything to her in his will.

Eventually he began to save the photos of his daughter and he often found himself looking at them. She was adorable, some of her features resembling his own. Her big brown eyes were definitely his; the color and the shape were both so familiar to him.

No one from the team knew about this part of his life. He had never told anyone, because why would he? They were close, they were his brothers, but you and your daughter were carefully guarded secrets in his life. Simon knew the real reason why he never talked about you; he was afraid of the judgmental looks and words.

Two months later, when he entered his apartment again after another round of deployment, Simon didn't really know what to do with himself. He ended up looking at his daughter's photos more and more often and eventually he made up his mind to give her a visit. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. He was doing this for the little girl.

You weren't welcoming but, once again, he couldn't blame you. “I just want to see my daughter,” he said softly, hoping the two of you could avoid fighting.

For long moments you were cautiously watching him, as if you were trying to decide if he could be trusted or not. But then your eyes fell on the big teddy bear he was holding with one hand and you let out a sigh of defeat.

On the way to the nursery, you didn't talk at all. The silence didn't bother him, but still he would have appreciated some words about the little girl he was about to meet. Was he allowed to pick her up? Did she like to be held? How was she? Did she have stomach ache often? Were she teething?

“Be quick,” you warned him when you stopped by her crib.

Simon let out a sigh. “Come on, don't be like that.”

You just rolled your eyes at him before taking a step back to lean your shoulder against the doorframe, arms folded over your chest, eyes watching his every move like a hawk. He found it a little too much, he hated that you didn't trust him. Sure, he hadn't given you many reasons to trust him, but for the sake of your daughter you should have tried.

With a sigh, he rested an elbow on the side of the crib and reached out to touch the baby as gently as he could with his other hand. His own flesh and blood. It was amazing, really. Without asking for permission, he picked her up and couldn't help but smile when the baby smiled at him.

Now that he was holding her close to his body, placing soft kisses on her head every so often, Simon couldn't deny that he already loved his daughter. There was an invisible string between them, something that brought her closer to him that anyone has ever been.

The baby giggled suddenly and it brought an even wider smile to Simon’s face. He could only hope you would let him see her as often as he could visit, but something told him it wouldn't be easy to convince you.

“She likes you,” you suddenly noted.

He put down the little girl then turned to you. “The feeling's mutual.” A faint smile appeared on your lips. “Can I see her some other time?” You nodded. “Thank you. If I can help with anything, just give me a call or send a message. I'll get back to you as soon as I can,” he offered.

You been to walk out of the room and he quietly followed you, waiting for you to say something. He didn't really know what he was expecting to hear, but he had a feeling you were holding back something. And sure enough, after a few minutes of silence you began to talk, scolding him for not even bothering to send at least a text to ask about her before suddenly showing up.

“I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd read them.”

“I'm mad at you, that's true,” you agreed.

Simon leaned against the doorframe as he watched you pace in the living room like a caged animal. He remembered those nights he had spent thinking about on deployment, the moment he saw that photo of you, and he realized that maybe he was missing you.

But how could he miss someone he didn't even love? Or had he developed feelings for you, feelings he tried to hide even from himself? It was way too confusing for him, and he didn't like to be confused. It was a weakness on the field and in his civilian life.

“I should go. If you need anything–”

You came to a halt, turned to him and nodded. “I know where to find you. But can I ask you something?” Simon motioned you to go on. “Why now? Why did you become interested in her all of a sudden?”

He let out a thoughtful hum as he put his hand on the back of his neck. “I saw the photos, how much she looks like me, and… I don't know.” You took a few steps closer to him, but you still kept a comfortable distance. “I've been saving money for her. I want to give you access to that bank account.”

“I don't need your money,” you were quick to say.

“It's for her. Please, accept it.”

You became mad at him, accusing him of assuming you couldn't take care of your daughter you'd been raising on your own from day one. He knew there was no point in defending himself, you were too lost in the hate you felt for him. So he just waited there in silence, letting you finish your speech.

Then, the moment you seemingly finished, he closed the gap between the two of you. He didn't know what he was doing, he just followed his instinct when he leaned down and kissed you. This was probably the first time he truly enjoyed kissing you, and it helped a lot that you were quick to return it.

Maybe this was why he wanted to come here today. To fix things. To try to get a family he'd been craving ever since he lost his own.

(part three)

[hoe-for-hopper]

A Crush On Eddie

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part 2 is HERE

WARNINGS: kind of a slow burn, unprotected piv, masturbation (f & m), drinking (reader is drunk, not during sex), vomiting (reader vomits)

Word Count: 4,983 (idk how that happened)

Summary: You've got a crush on Eddie Munson, so you drag your two best friends, Steve and Robin to Corroded Coffin's show. When Steve is too drunk to drive you home, Eddie offers.

A/N: I swear this was supposed to just be a one and done Eddie fic, but oops I got carried away and there's gonna be a part 2 (steddie) sometime in the next few days. Partially unedited, ends on a cliffhanger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SMUT BELOW THE CUT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You, Steve, and Robin pull up to the shitty little dive bar that Corroded Coffin is playing tonight. You’re nervous, but you’re not sure why. It’s not like Eddie is even going to notice you. You’re just here to enjoy the show and have a fun night out with your best friends. Besides, you haven’t seen Eddie since you were all in high school and you hardly spoke with him then. He probably doesn’t even remember who you are.

Steve has no clue about your little crush on Eddie Munson. He has no idea that he’s the only reason you dragged them to the Corroded Coffin show. Robin, on the other hand, has been forced to listen to your lust filled rants about Eddie on more than one occasion. 

“Alright, I’ll grab the drinks, you guys go find us a good clean spot to watch them.” Steve shook his head as he made his way to the bar at the back of the room. 

You and Robin found a small table against the wall to the side of the stage. As you two placed your purses and jackets down you looked up and saw Eddie walking towards the bar and your heart skips a beat. He was cute, more than cute, really. 

“Oh God. Why don’t you just go talk to him? It’s not like you two don’t already know each other.” Robin is rolling her eyes as she follows your line of sight to Eddie.

“Because. What would I even say? ‘Hi Eddie, remember how we hardly talked during high school and weren’t even friends? Well, I’ve actually got such a huge crush on you that I dragged my two best friends to your show tonight.’ I mean, come on, Robin.” You let out a heavy sigh and sit down on the stool.

Robin finishes draping her jacket over her chair and sits down, “Well, maybe don’t say that. I was more so thinking of something along the lines of ‘hi.’ You know, something normal.” 

“What are we talking about?” Steve says as he sets down the drinks. 

You catch Robin’s eye and give your head a subtle shake. “Oh, we were just saying how I think that girl over there at the bar is so cute. Y/N was saying I should go talk to her, but I’m just way too nervous.” Robin winks at you as Steve cranes his neck trying to see what girl she’s talking about.

“I didn’t see a cute girl at the bar.” Steve says.

“Oh she must have left already. Anyway thanks for the drinks, I think they’re about to start soon.” Robin spins around to face the stage while Steve is still scoping out the venue for girls.

As all three of you sip your beers and continue talking, the lights dim and Eddie walks onto the stage. You’ve got butterflies already. Robin turns back to look at you, she’s got a knowing smirk on her face. You roll your eyes and take another swig of your drink.

After the first few songs, you start to loosen up a little bit. Steve has gotten you your second beer and you’re almost ready for your third. You really weren’t planning to drink a lot tonight, but you have been wanting to talk to Eddie and you figured the alcohol would make it a little easier.

The next time Steve goes to the bar, Robin pulls you towards the front of the stage. “Robin, what are you doing?” 

“Trying to help you get a closer look at your future boyfriend.” Robin is giggling so hard that a few drops of her beer splash over the rim of the bottle. 

“Please.” You’re rolling your eyes again, but you’re definitely enjoying the close up view of Eddie. You rake your eyes over him and you can’t help but linger on the spot right below his belt buckle. 

“I see you guys are getting in on the action!” Steve comes up behind you and hands you and Robin another beer. “I’m gonna go hang at our table. I’m trying to get this girl’s number, told her to meet me over there.” He walks off towards your table.

You turn back around to face the stage, and notice Eddie is looking right at you. Eddie Munson is looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat as he looks away towards the other side of the crowd. 

Robin nudges you and says “Oh my god! He totally just looked right at you!”

You punch her arm and laugh, but a tingly feeling flows throughout your body. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Corroded Coffin’s set, you and Robin head back to your table to find Steve deep in conversation with a girl that Robin apparently knows. 

“Well, I’ve got to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back you guys.” You head to the bathroom in the back corner of the venue. 

You fix your hair in the mirror before walking back outside. As you make your way back to the table, an arm reaches out in front of you to stop you. 

“Hey, didn’t we go to high school together?” It’s Eddie. He drops his arm and steps in front of you. 

“Wow, you scared me. Uh yeah, we did.” Your voice is a little shaky. You can’t believe Eddie is talking to you. You knew it was probably no big deal. It’s not like he was actually famous or anything. His band played at a few dive bars around town and that was really it. 

“I’m glad you came out to the show. Did you have fun? I gotta say, I didn’t think this would be your scene. From what I remember, in high school you were in a different crowd.” He’s smiling down at you. 

You look past him to see Robin staring at you with her eyebrows raised. Steve is also staring at you, the girl he was previously talking to had left. You raise your eyebrows back before turning to look up at Eddie. “Yeah, I remembered you had the band in high school and saw you guys were playing tonight. I thought we’d come check you out.” 

Eddie looks over his shoulder and you see Robin and Steve quickly glance away. “I see you’re still friends with Steve Harrington.” He says his name with an annoyance in his voice. Eddie and Steve didn’t exactly get along in school and it seems like Eddie hasn’t forgotten that. 

You chuckle nervously, “Yep. We’re still friends. So, the show was good. You were really great up there.”

“Thanks. That means a lot. I’m glad you had fun. I’ll let you get back to your friends. Maybe I’ll see you around some other time? We’re playing here again next weekend.” 

“Maybe we’ll come watch you guys again.” As you walk back towards Steve and Robin, you try not to overthink too much about your conversation with Eddie.

“Didn’t know you were friends with The Freak.” Steve is saying as you all start gathering your things.

“Oh shut up, Steve. We’re not in high school anymore. Can you at least try to act like an adult?” Robin elbows Steve in his side earning a little “ow” from him.

As you all walk to Steve’s car, you’re telling them about Eddie’s band playing here again next weekend. It takes some convincing from you and Robin, but Steve offers to drive again next weekend.

“Do you like him or something?” Steve is asking you as he drops you and Robin off at your apartment.

You roll your eyes at Steve and say, “No, I just think it would be fun. And maybe next time you’ll have a little more luck getting some numbers.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve says before he drives off leaving you and Robin giggling at the door.

You and Robin spend the night overanalyzing the conversation you had with Eddie. Or rather, Robin spends the night listening to you ramble on and theorize your outfit for next weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the next weekend rolls around, you’ve spent countless hours going over how you’re going to talk to Eddie again. You’re still too nervous to approach him first, but you know you can’t leave the show without speaking to him. 

You hear Steve honk his horn outside and you make your way out front with Robin trailing behind you. Robin had been helping you get ready and listening to you freak out over what you should say to Eddie tonight.

“You girls ready to go? I hope this time is better than the last time.” Steve puts the car in drive and heads toward the bar.

Robin snorts and says, “Steve, you can’t base the fun you have on how many girls’ numbers you get. There’s more to life than girls.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk.”

When you arrive at the bar, Steve grabs your drinks again and you and Robin head to the same table as last time. Robin nudges you, “Look who’s over there.” She’s smiling and you follow her gaze to the side of the stage where Eddie stands holding a guitar case and surveying the bar. 

When he spots where you and Robin are sitting he walks up to you. “Hi guys. Excited for the show?” 

You’re too nervous to speak, luckily Robin chimes in with, “Oh yeah. You guys were great last time.”

Eddie turns to look at you. You notice how handsome he is when his smile stretches all the way to his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun.” 

Just then, Steve returns and sets the beers down on the table. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Eddie just gives him a little nod and says, “I gotta get up there, but I’ll catch you guys after the show.” When he says it, he’s just looking at you. You feel a tingling go through your body. You feel electric and you can almost feel the blush creeping up your face.

Steve stares after Eddie before turning back around to say, “Jeeze. What’s his problem?”

Throughout the show, you catch Eddie’s eyes a few times. Of course, Robin immediately notices and nudges you each time. When it’s Steve’s turn to grab the drinks, Robin is asking you if you’re actually going to make a move on Eddie tonight. 

“I have no idea. I mean, I want to, definitely. It’s just, I don’t know, we’re total opposites.” You gulp down the last of your beer. Robin assures you that Eddie would be interested just as Steve reappears with the drinks. You notice he’s swaying a little bit as he sets them down and you’re worried he won’t be able to drive home.

Corroded Coffin finishes their set and starts packing up, but Eddie breaks away and heads straight to your table. You stand up to greet him and that’s when you realize just how drunk you actually are. How many beers had you had? At least four, maybe even five? “Hi Eddie.”

“Hey. Like the show?” He’s still only looking at you and you’re not sure if it’s because he has something against Steve and doesn’t know Robin all that well or because he wants to look only at you.

“Yeah it was really great!” You’re excited and slurring your words.

All four of you talk for a few minutes longer before Eddie excuses himself to help the band finish packing up their equipment. 

Eddie is only gone for a few minutes when he returns just as you’re all gathering your things and getting ready to leave. Steve stumbles as he stands and he grabs the table for support. Eddie sees this and says “Hey man, you all right? If you’re not good to drive I can drop you all off.” Eddie offers.

Steves starts to protest saying that you’re all going to different places, but Eddie cuts in with, “Really, it’s no problem. I’ve got the van, you guys can just pile in the back.”

Robin and Steve turn to face you and your eyes are wide. Eddie Munson driving you home after his show? Of course, he’s also driving Robin and Steve home. And it’s because you’re all too drunk to safely get home. It’s nothing exciting. “Yeah, yeah. That would be really great, thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie leads the three of you out to his van. He offers you the front seat which you happily accept and the other two climb in the back. 

You can hear Steve and Robin giggling in the backseat. You’re hoping Robin isn’t drunk enough to spill your secret longing for Eddie. You know this is just a little crush and you’ll get over it. 

You give Eddie directions to Steve’s then to Robin’s house. Eddie pulls up in front of Robin’s and you get out to walk her to her door. “This is your chance, Y/N. You better go for it.” You whisper at her to shut up as she slips inside. 

Not much is said on the way to your apartment, but you’re filled with an electric buzz throughout your body. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re sitting next to Eddie.

“Thanks so much for the ride. I really appreciate it.” You say as you start gathering your things. Eddie responds that he’s glad to give you a ride. You’re not looking at him, but it sounds like he’s smirking and you blush at where your mind goes. 

You try to get out of the van, but you can’t seem to grasp hold of the door handle without dropping all your things. You laugh as you realize the alcohol is catching up to you. 

“Okay, hang on, sweetheart.” Eddie notices you struggling, gets out of the van, and walks around to the passenger side. He opens the door for you to help you out. “Let me walk you in, I’ll carry your things.”

You hand over your things in silence as you process that Eddie just called you sweetheart. You watch as Eddie fiddles with your keys before finding the one to unlock the door. “Ladies first.” He has one hand on your elbow and the other is pushing the door closed behind you. 

As he sets your stuff down on the entry table you catch yourself saying, “Do you want to stay? I mean, just have a cup of coffee or something? Unless you’re tired. I know it’s late.” 

Eddie says that he would love to, so you head to the kitchen and start preparing a pot of coffee. When you turn back around, you’re hit with an overwhelming sensation in your stomach. You’re going to vomit now. There’s no way you can make it to the bathroom so you  lean over the sink and heave. 

The next thing you know, Eddie is there behind you. He’s taking out the hair tie that had been holding his long hair in a loose bun and pulls your hair away from your face to tie it back. You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life. You’re vomiting in your kitchen sink in front of Eddie Munson who is currently rubbing small circles between your shoulder blades. Through your noises you can hear him saying, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Despite your current situation, a rush of heat shoots down to your core. 

Eddie helps you to your bed, leaving to grab a glass of water. When he returns, you’ve slipped under the blankets and are almost asleep. “There’s a glass of water on your nightstand. Call me in the morning and I’ll take you to get the car.” He says before turning to leave.

“Wait. You can stay here, it’s late.” You call out to him from your half asleep state.

Eddie stands in the doorway, debating on what to do. Part of him wants to leave to not make things awkward for the both of you in the morning. He’s not sure if you mean he can sleep on your couch or your bed. 

As if reading his mind, you tap on the bed and roll over sleepily. He doesn’t need any more insistence and takes his jacket off before tossing it on the ground and crawling into bed next to you. He leans up to look at you and realizing you’ve already fallen asleep, he lays back down. As he does, he catches  a glimpse of lacy black underneath your skirt that’s crept up your thighs. 

Eddie is completely still on his back next to you. He’s never told you this, but he had a huge crush on you in high school. He was more than surprised when he’d noticed you while he was on stage last weekend. During the entire set, he had been thinking of ways to talk to you before you left. He was a little disappointed when he realized you were friends with Steve and he’d been hoping Steve wasn’t going to talk you out of coming to the next show. 

When he’d seen you again tonight, he couldn’t wait to talk to you. He’d been hanging out at the side of the stage, waiting for you to walk in. He spent the entire show trying not to stare at you the whole time. He felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He loved the way your short skirt flowed around your thighs. 

Eddie felt you shift, as he looked over he saw that you had kicked off your half of the blanket. With your skirt almost completely up your thighs, he had a perfect view of the lacy black underwear you were wearing. He felt the bulge in his pants grow. 

He knew it wasn’t right to stare, but he couldn’t help it. As quietly as he could, he undid his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans. Slowly, he pulled his pants down just enough to free his hardened cock. 

As Eddie began stroking himself, he imagined what your hand would feel like wrapped around him. He thought about you staring into his eyes as your hand went up and down. He wondered what you would taste like.

Eddie continued to pump his hand up and down while alternating between staring at your ass and imaging all the things he could do to you. He lifted his shirt just as he spilled onto his stomach. Carefully, he got out of bed and made his way to your bathroom to clean up.

When he returned, he draped the blanket back over you and laid down next to you. He wasn’t sure how he was going to fall asleep with the knowledge that he’d just finished himself off a few inches away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you’re awoken to the sound of a voice coming from your kitchen. It takes you a second to remember that Eddie Munson spent the night.

“Oh, you know what, here she comes now.” Eddie hands you the phone as you walk sleepily into the kitchen. You see he’s already made a pot of coffee and is now cooking breakfast.

You know it’s Robin before you put the phone to your ear, you can already hear her voice. “Y/N, was that who I think it is that answered your phone? Was he there all night? What happened!”

“Yes and yes. I’ll call you later okay?” You hung up before Robin could say anything else. “Hey, thanks for the coffee. You really didn’t have to make breakfast though.” 

“After what you did last night, I figured you’d need some energy this morning. Don’t worry about it.” 

You’re shaking and it’s not from the alcohol last night. You’re still trying to piece together what happened. After what I did? What did I do? And then it all comes rushing back to you. You vomited in your kitchen sink right in front of Eddie Munson. And then you invited him to bed. And he accepted the offer. 

Eddie sets a plate down in front of you and leans against the wall sipping his coffee. “I figure we can pick Steve up, take him to get his car. And then…” He pauses, unsure if he should say what he’s thinking. You raise your eyebrows and he continues, “And then I was thinking later tonight, you might want to grab dinner? With me, of course.” 

You almost choke. Is Eddie asking you out on a date or are you reading way too much into things? “Yeah, yeah sounds good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eddie drops you back off at your apartment after taking Steve to pick up his car. As soon as you’re through the door, you’re calling Robin. “Robin, oh my god.” You gave her a recap of exactly what happened the previous night - vomiting included. 

“You threw up in your kitchen sink and he still slept in the same bed as you. Wow.” Robin is laughing hysterically. “Steve, did you hear that? She threw up!”

“STEVE is there? Oh god, Robin I don’t want more people knowing about this. It’s embarrassing enough that I have to know.” You groan and slide down the kitchen wall to the tile. 

Steve has grabbed the phone from Robin. “Are you dating Eddie now? Because if that freak can get a date easier than I can, I swear…”

“Shut up. No, we’re not dating. Nothing even happened. Sure, we slept in the same bed, but that’s it. Okay?” Even as you’re saying it, you still can’t believe it happened. You tell Steve and Robin bye before you hang up and start getting ready for your date with Eddie.

As you’re in the shower, you think of all the things that could have happened had you not passed out. Your hand slips down to your folds as you slide your fingers around in small circles. You’re imagining it’s Eddie’s hands touching you. As you climax, you’re imagining Eddie’s fingers pumping in and out of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re just finishing getting dressed as you hear a knock on your door. “Come in! I’ll just be a minute!” After trying on almost everything you own and calling Robin countless times for advice, you’d settled on a short flowy black dress.

When you emerge from your room, Eddie is sitting on the couch. As he looks up at you his eyes go wide and all of a sudden you feel self conscious. You look down at yourself and smooth your hands down your dress. “You look…incredible.” Eddie finally manages to choke out.

You smile at him and he almost melts. He rakes his eyes over you and without meaning to actually do it, he licks his lips. “You ready to go?” He stands up and grabs your hand, leading out to his van.

You feel an electric buzz that flows throughout your body, centered on where your hands meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You can hardly remember dinner as Eddie opens the passenger door to his van, helping you inside. You spent the entire time trying to think of ways to invite Eddie back to your apartment after dinner. You also spent quite a bit of time staring at his hands and imagining what they could do to you. So by the time you’re settled inside the van, your core is already pulsing with need. 

When Eddie arrives at your apartment, you’re surprised when he gets out of the van to follow you inside. “I thought we could hang for a little longer? I’ve been really enjoying talking to you.” He says shyly as you set your things down. 

The two of you sit on the couch and continue the conversation you’d been having about Steve. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him, I promise.” You’d been trying to convince Eddie that Steve was actually a great friend.

“Well, I’ll believe that when I see it.” Eddie shrugs his shoulders.

Neither of you have mentioned the previous night. You know it’s probably not a big deal, nothing happened and Eddie was just taking care of you after you’d drank too much. 

“Want a beer?” Eddie nods his head ‘yes’ so you head to the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge. 

When you return to the living room and hand Eddie the beer, your hands brush and neither of you pull away. When you sit down next to him, Eddie leans forward to set his beer on the coffee table. He turns to look at you, “You know, you really do look incredible. Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

You can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you set your beer down next to his. “T-thank you. You look pretty handsome too.” And he does. He’s wearing dark jeans, black shirt, and a dark leather jacket. You can’t help but think what he looks like under his clothes. As you look him up and down, your eyes stop on his lap. You can see a bulge, a very big bulge, under his jeans.

Eddie sees you notice and lets out a little chuckle. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach towards him and run your hand from his temple to his cheek.

Eddie stills, shocked. After a second, he grabs your waist and pulls you on top of him. Foreheads touching, you stare into each other’s eyes for just a split second before your lips meet.

Eddie’s hands are roaming up your back now, your hands tangled in his hair. “Fuck. I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you at the bar.” He says into your mouth. 

“Mm. Me too.” You breathe just as he rolls his hips hitting your sensitive bud and you let out a moan. 

This is better than he imagined in your bed last night while he pumped himself. “I touched myself last night thinking about this. I was thinking about all the things I want to do to you.” He licks a stripe up the side of your face. 

His words and the friction make you moan into his ear. You tell him how you fingered yourself in the shower, imagining his fingers inside you.

Eddie swears he could cum just from hearing you talk. He scoots you back so he can pull his jeans down before grabbing your hips and rolling them across his cock. Eddie lifts up your dress and pulls your panties to the side. “Is this what you want?” He asks as his finger brushes your clit.

“Mhm. Yes, please, Eddie.” Your hands are pulling his hair and you place kisses down his face before sucking a mark on his neck. 

Eddie lifts you up so he can swipe himself through your folds before lining himself up with your entrance and sliding you down. You gasp as you take the full length of him before tugging his hair even harder.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to his size before bucking up into you. You can’t hold in the moans that escape from your mouth and your entire body is trembling. You’ve never felt so full. You weren’t a virgin, but it felt like Eddie was stretching your walls as far as they could go. 

“Yeah? Is this what you thought about in the shower?” You can’t speak so you just nod your head ‘yes’. “Use your words, baby. I want to hear you.”

“Y-yes, this is b-better than what I imagined.” Eddie moved his hands from your hips to pull you to his chest. He cradled your head with one hand with his other resting on your lower back. 

Kissing your head he murmured praises into your ear. “You’re doing so good.”

“Eddie.”

Still inside you, he lifts you up and carries you to your bedroom. Placing you down on the edge of the bed and kneeling between your legs, he continues to pump in and out of you. Pulling your dress up he groped at you while using one hand to pull your legs to his neck. “Oh, you’re so wet for me, baby. Gonna cum soon?”

You can’t form words, you moan in response. But remembering what Eddie said earlier you manage, “Gonna cum.”

“Cum on me, baby.” he moves the hand from your tits to circle your clit. In seconds, you’re gushing around him. “That’s it, show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

Incoherent words and moans fall from your mouth as Eddie fucks you through your high. His thrusts become erratic and he’s moved to holding both your legs up against his chest. He’s gripping your calves so tightly, you know you’ll have bruises. 

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

Shakily, you whisper, “Inside me. Please.”

“All mine.” Eddie pulls you towards him as he thrusts and releases himself deeply inside of you. “Fuck.” He whispers as he lets your legs down and helps you into the bed. His jeans still around his ankles, he takes them off before climbing in beside you. 

You turn to face Eddie, your eyes glazed over, “I guess our date went well.” He laughs and pulls you in tighter. 

Eddie is tracing shapes along your back, “We’re playing at the bar in a few days. What do you say if you come as my girlfriend this time?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You nuzzle your head into his chest. 

Just as the two of you are drifting to sleep in each other’s arms, there’s a knock at the door. You both sit up and listen to the person knock again, louder. “Hello? You guys in there?” 

You look at Eddie with wide eyes, “It’s Steve.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 is HERE

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of obsessed Johnny.

(Part 3 is here!)

(CW for nonconsensual ‘sort-of’ free use and edging; and again - dubious consent. Please stay safe!!)

Johnny’s favorite pastime is playing with you. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s being purposefully cruel, but no. He’s just… strangely preoccupied with your body.

He spends most nights cradling you between his legs, your back to his chest, arms wrapped around you. The two of you watch tv or movies, share popcorn - sometimes he watches you play on your Switch or reads over your shoulder.

It started out almost innocent (so to speak) in the beginning. He’s a fidgety guy, you’ve known that long before this whole mess, used to smile to yourself when you cleaned up straw wrappers and clean napkins folded into odd shapes.

So you barely notice when he starts fiddling with the hems of your sweatshirt and long shirts, picking at strings or running his thumb over knit textures. When he moved to your socks, that caught your attention but never went very far - just tugging at elastic lace or rolling/unrolling the tops along your thighs.

And then one night, as the two of you are watching the latest superhero movie, he hand creeps under your panties. You jolt the instant his fingers grazes your slit, hands twitching as you debate the dangers of redirecting him.

“Something wrong, Bonnie?” he asks against your ear, genuinely curious. “Is it too loud?”

It occurs to you that he genuinely might not realize what he’s doing - that reaching for you is just a thoughtless action like folding up bits of paper.

“Your hand is in my underwear,” you explain.

A pause. “Oh, so it is.” And to your surprise, he returns to hugging you.

It happens again though, this time you’re so preoccupied trying to beat a video game level that you almost don’t notice until his middle finger glides over your clit. You suck in a breath and die instantly.

“Damn,” he mutters. “Thought you had it that time. Gonna give it another go or you done for the night.”

Stuttering, you say you’ll give it another try, almost morbidly curious about how far he’ll go. Pretty far it turns out. He toys with your clit for 15 minutes before you clear your throat and shift, feeling unbearably wet and achy.

“Oh, shite. I did it again,” he mumbles, extracting his hand and settling it on the outside of your thigh. “No wonder you keep dying.”

The next time is during an intense tv show you’ve both gotten really into. It’s distracting from the weird reality you’ve found yourself in - but not weird enough that you can ignore Johnny tapping his finger nervously over your clit. You swear your heartbeat is starting to match that rhythm - tap, tap, tap. He doesn’t get the hint when you shift this time, eyes locked on the screen as he mutters to himself.

“No way is he secretly her brother. No fuckin’ way.”

You try to ignore it. Hope it’ll end in its own time when the tension dies down. It doesn’t. He lets the next episode load automatically, babbling to you about the crazy cliffhanger.

As it opens, his fingers travel down your slit to your entrance, find the slick there and play in it. Microthrusts against your leaking hole, just wetting his fingertip before dragging it out, up to your clit, three circles, then back down again.

It’s maddening but it’s not enough. You’re biting your lip so hard you’re surprised you don’t taste blood, thighs twitching with each jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

On and on it goes, slow and absent, maddening. Literally just playing with your pussy like a fidget toy. He’s not even fully hard against your lower back! Just the normal amount of mildly turned on that having you in his lap produces.

It’s driving you into a fucking spiral. So so sensitive, so close to the edge, but never enough. You just lay there trapped against him, dripping and desperate and determined to be quiet because you don’t know what else to do now. You can’t let yourself get off to this - but you also can’t find the words to remind him to stop.

When the episode - the finally - finally ends, he pulls his hand away, already gearing up to discuss theories for the next season with you. Instead, he’s cut off as you hiccup, near tears with being denied.

“What’s wrong, hen? I didn’t think it was that bad!” he says.

“You-you were…” you can’t get the words out, give up entirely. Time to see if he really is as devoted to pleasing you as he always swears.

You crawl out of his lap, flip onto your back, and yank him down by the hair. He makes a startled noise, eyes going huge, and then whimpers as his cheek presses into your absolutely soaked panties. Even that is a cruel but unintentional tease.

“Fix it,” you near sob.

“Of course, baby, of course,” he hurries to say, wriggling into a better position. “I’m sorry, love. So sorry. Got you all spun up, huh? Didn’t mean to. You’re just so soft and-”

You whine. “Soap, shut up and lick me!”

He moans, hips jerking hard into the mattress. “Yes, ma’am.”

[chuuyasheaven]

♥ “ Just melt into my touch. ” ♥

♥ ♥ SCENARIO. Tired and exhausted from the day you just had, Dazai offers to try and help you relax!

PAIRING. D. OSAMU / AFAB! READER. (TW: suggestive)

NOTES. Small drabble to celebrate the fact that I’m finally done with my finals :3

Today wasn’t it, at all. You didn’t know why, but all you needed was your boyfriend’s comfort. As soon as you stepped into your shared apartment, Dazai could already tell how you were feeling. All you had to do was to plop down onto your bed, and have him near you. Your body melted into his touch, but not really in the way he wanted it to.

“But I barely have any strength left to hold on, Dazai.”, you protested as you were sitting next to him, completely naked. “What if you can’t breathe?”, slight concern laced your tone as Dazai laid his back on the bed, not wanting to hear your excuses. “That doesn’t matter, I want you on it now.”, he wasn’t going to back down from this, he needed you to sit on his face. “I don’t give a damn if I can’t breathe, all I need you to do is to sit down and relax, ‘donna.”, you hesitated before asking again to clarify, because your exhaustion has left you weak, too tired to even hold your body over his face for even a mere five minutes. “Are. . are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you in any way—”, Dazai shot you a glare of hunger and lust to your way, his patience running thin. “You’re not gonna hurt me, sweetheart. I may not look like it, but I’m stronger than I look.”, his assuring words calmed you down a little and you slowly got on his face.

“Stop moving around so much,”, he said in a commanding tone, holding your thighs to stop them of shaking too much. “I told you you’re not gonna hurt me if you sit down completely.”, it hasn’t even been ten minutes and you were struggling to keep your body in place, and it was disturbing Dazai’s meal. “But—”, you couldn’t even finish you protest when you interrupted yourself with a yelp, Dazai locked his arms around your thighs to pull you down on his face. Since this was very sudden, you just let it happen. Now fully sitting on his face, he continued where he left off, his face more importantly his tongue was closer to your cunt. Meaning, he was reaching the deepest spots you didn’t even know you had. Due to your body being extremely exhausted and rather weak, your stamina was rather low, also meaning you were more sensitive than usual. You were arching your back while Dazai was eating you out like a starved man.

“Feels better already, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

cliffhanger because I’m still burnt out 😞 leave requests if you like so I could be more inspired to write or I’ll just work on old drafts >_<

[vidavalor]

The Movie

The most important thing is that he's gone.

If you're feeling sad that it's not the full season and would like some reassurance about the rest of the story being movie-length, though?

Based on where the story is now? They can absolutely do this in 90 minutes. Would it have been more fun if it was the whole season? Of course. But they can do this in 90 minutes-- and do it well. I think there's actually less to go in the plot in the present than we might realize. How so?

I'm pretty sure the next part of the story has never really been plotted to be Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. The end game seems to me to be a bit more they all have to overthrow Heaven to save Aziraphale and that's how they save the world. Meaning, that was Satan with the coffee in The Final 15 and Aziraphale's fall is the plot. The kickoff here in the movie would be the same as it would have been if we had a full S3: the audience gets the hinted at 2.06 twist revealed in full right near the start when they see Aziraphale get to Heaven and be thrown to Hell by The Metatron. The other characters then quickly learn what's happened to Aziraphale. They band together to challenge Heaven--that's the whole Powell & Pressburger's 'A Matter of Life and Death' trial & how it fits into things.

Aziraphale won't accept a verdict that's just for him and not Crowley as well and the process of all of this winds up exposing and overthrowing The Metatron and Hell, freeing the demons. (Gabriel gets his suit back and is their lawyer, you just know it lol.) By coming together to save Aziraphale, the characters fix Heaven/Hell, which then saves Earth and permanently stops the threat of Armageddon. The remainder of the time is wrap up where Crowley & Aziraphale work through what's happened and then head to the South Downs.

All of that stuff in the present that I just said can actually be done inside of an hour, tops. Especially because no one has to set up the characters and story like they would if this were a stand-alone film. They can just dive straight in. That still leaves at least a half-hour--if not a bit more, depending-- for flashing us back to whatever we need to see that supports what's happening in the present (The Vavoom, 1941, probably Jane Austen, likely one or two other things we don't know we need to see yet). More than likely? This is a series of scenes like the S1 cold open more than it is a longer, single-era, flashback minisode. I don't think anyone would complain about another cold open-like sequence? 😊

The movie can work. For perspective? Look at the chart below.

We are at the Big Twist that is The Act II Climax & it's really almost fully done already. All that's left in that Big Twist is to just overtly tell it to the audience because The Final 15 already did all hinting the set up work for it.

As you can see, we're really just moments away from everyone regrouping for the big, final push of the story-- the Act III Climax/overthrowing Heaven-- before we're into the South Downs Cottage ending. This is one of the reasons why I think that S1 showed us Monday-Sunday of The Last Week of the World: Round One with Armageddon being stopped on Saturday but S2 revealed we were watching The Last Week of the World: Round Two... but then stopped the season early on Friday morning. S3, imho, has always been going to pick up within hours of where the 2.06 cliffhanger ended and show us the mirrored Saturday & Sunday of this week that we still have out there.

They won't need to set up at the start of the film where characters are years later because the S2 story we were watching was always written for S3 to pick up basically right where the S2 cliffhanger leaves off. S3 was always going to continue directly the story of S2 rather than come at the story from a place of a dead stop of years having gone by. I think the best way to look at the movie might be as if it is really the S2 finale. Think of it as if S2 actually has 8 episodes but we've only seen 6 of them so far and we're still awaiting the last two.

Each season of the show, in and of itself, follows that above Three Act Structure, even if the overall series of Good Omens is also following it for its overall story as well. Think back on the last two episodes of S1, which would then be similar in some structural elements and in pacing to this movie.

The Act III Climax in S1 is Armageddon being stopped in Tadfield. That will be overthrowing Heaven in the movie. The Obstacle that followed in S1 as a result of stopping Armageddon and which led into the wrap-up conclusion was Heaven & Hell coming after Crowley & Aziraphale/the body swap plot. When Crowley and Aziraphale solved those obstacles-- in short time, as this is part of the wrap-up-- we then left them dining at The Ritz on Sunday afternoon. These episodes were a very clear-cut example of what an Act III in Three Act Structure within a season looks like and it is likely-- structurally-- going to be very similar to what the model for the finale movie will be. The pacing will be a lot alike, just with some flashbacks in the mix.

Think about how little time it actually took to stop Armageddon once everyone was in Tadfield-- and that most of the finale was just getting characters who had already been set up earlier in the story to Tadfield for that to happen. That's about how much time it's going to take them to overthrow Heaven in the movie. We've actually already watched most of the set up in the story to get to that place in S2. Then, think about how the Obstacles part in S1 was the body swap plot... but how that same type of obstacle wouldn't exist in the S3 movie. Why?

Because this movie is going to stop Armageddon permanently by overthrowing Heaven & Hell. Unlike in S1, when Crowley and Aziraphale were still being targeted, they're going to be truly free for the first time ever by this same point in the S3 movie. So, what are the Obstacles then? Their own stuff. This is where we would get the scenes of two of them having the chance to fully talk through The Final 15 of S2 and, in the process, understand where everything went wrong and have the South Downs Cottage then be the happy ending.

There's plenty of space for this in the story because this is where it's all leading and the part about overthrowing Heaven and Hell-- that Act III Climax that sets up this ending? Going into the movie after where S2 left off, we're actually only a heartbeat away from it already.

This is all very do-able within 90 minutes, with plenty of room for things like The Vavoom and 1941. It might not be the full season that we hoped for but the story is in a way better place to wrap this up with a movie than most shows in this position would be.

[nanamissuit]

Can I request the 141 boys with a shy reader who gets to talking about their hobbies or whatever, really starts opening up, only to get self conscious and say something like, “sorry I talked so much.”

Shy - TF141

Pairing: TF141 x GN!Shy Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff, Hurt-comfort

John Price:

So what has Price noticed while dating you? You ever so rarely speak more than a couple of sentences. 

And oh god when he would introduce you to people you’d shy behind him like a child, he never understood why.

So when you started to talk more about a certain hobby you liked he was ecstatic. It was just you and him, at home in bed watching a movie but not really paying attention.

Then something in the movie caught your eye and reminded you of something from your childhood, your eyes lit up as you began to start rambling on and on.

“Yeah so I used to-” “Hm? What’s the matter, why'd you stop?” John looked confused, he was genuinely interested in what you were saying, “Sorry, I talked too much.”

His heart melted, he was so upset hearing those words. He didn’t know whoever told you that you talk too much but he never felt more enraged in his whole life. “No sweetheart you never talk too much, I could listen to you talk for hours and hours keep talking I wanted to hear the rest.” He saw you smile as you kept talking, he truly did love you.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

He’s always encouraging you to talk more, he adores your voice and also he can’t really tell your emotions when you’re just quiet so it scares him.

He always loved when you spoke even if it was only a couple of sentences or words here and there, and when he introduced you to his mates and you kinda hid behind him he chuckled a bit.

But when you guys went out to go watch the sunset and you started to ramble a bit, he was so excited but he tried to stay calm so as to not interrupt you.

“Honestly it was one of my favorite-” “You okay? I was listening.” Kyle looked at you a little worried but upset because he wanted you to keep talking, keep rambling about nonsense forever.

“No sorry I talked way too much.” Kyle’s heart shattered and he had to keep it together as he wrapped an arm around the small of your back. “No baby keep going, I wanted to hear the rest I love when you talk.” He saw your eyes light up as you kept talking and he listened to every word.

John 'Soap' Mactavish:

We all know that man is a talker, like you can’t get him to shut up. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to listen to you talk. In Fact whenever you begin to speak he automatically shuts up.

When he introduced you to his friends and even family you were a nervous wreck and hid behind his back. He explains to everyone you’re just shy and holds your hand for comfort.

But there has never been a thing in the world he’s wanted more than for you to just talk about something, anything. 

So when you started to ramble to him before going to sleep in your shared bed, he immediately woke up and listened intently.

“Yeah and that's-” “Keep going, what happened next?” he was so bummed when you stopped talking, you left him on a cliffhanger :(!

“No it’s okay I talked way too much.” Soap frowned, “No lass, you never talk way too much. I love hearing your voice, please keep going?” And then he got excited when you kept speaking. He listened until you got so tired you fell asleep.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

This man is so quiet, but not in a shy way. He just doesn’t think talking is necessary. So he kind of expected you to do all the talking. But then he realized how shy you were and started talking more so you weren't uncomfortable

When he introduced you to people and you hid behind the boulder of a man, he acted like a bodyguard. “They're shy, give‘em a bit.”

But when you guys are alone and you’re watching him cook dinner and you have the urge to just talk, he’ll listen like a goddamn dog. Sometimes even chuckling at things you say or adding commentary.

But then when you cut yourself off, “I know right! But then-” He didn’t even give you the chance to say “I was talking too much.” Because he was so quick to respond.

“Keep talking Lovie, what happened? I love when you talk, please keep going.” And you smiled to yourself as you continued on with what you were saying, he truly loved every single word you spoke.  

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 11/2/24

prompt: date night

pairing/character(s): steddie, hellfire club

it's valentine's week!! hopefully i can do all the prompts this week :)

"And with that, the barkeep..."

Eddie pauses in his storytelling to glance away from the notes hidden by his DM screen and over to the clock. His eyes widen at the time. Is it really 7:53pm already? Shit.

"With that, this session is over. You'll find out what happens with the angry barkeep next week!"

Everyone in the room groans at that, a chorus of 'seriously's and 'what the hell, Eddie's starting up even as he hurries to put his notes back into his DnD folder, and dumps all his dice into his bag haphazardly.

No one seems to notice for a moment, too busy complaining about the cliffhanger, when Gareth suddenly pauses and examines Eddie with a curious look on his face.

"Hold on, you promised we'd finally find out more about the temple this session? Where was that?"

Eddie huffs in response, and doesn't even look up as he starts folding his DM screen.

"Yeah, that was before you guys decided to talk to every single person at the tavern for an hour and start a barfight."

"That's never stopped you from getting us to where you want us before!"

"Yeah!" "Exactly!" "Please, Eddie. What happens with the barkeep."

Eddie waves a hand at everyone, and looks up to see the younger kids complaining quietly to each other, and his closer friends still seeming to inspect him carefully. He supposes they're valid in that; he's not one to back down from his plans, and has never cut off a session like this before.

But. Today is special. Today he has...

"Oh my god, you have a date." Jeff suddenly says, his eyes a little wider than usual as he grabs at Freak's arm.

"What?! Who the fuck would he have a date with?" Freak scoffs.

Eddie ignores the blush fighting to appear on his cheeks and starts collecting all of his figurines scattered around the table.

"Eddie has a date?" Mike suddenly joins in from across the room.

And, great, now the baby sheep are involved too.

"It is none of you guys's business what plans I have after this session. But, really, I gotta go." Eddie tries, but now Dustin's attention is on him as well.

"That's so funny! Steve has a date tonight too- that's why we had to ask Nancy to pick us up tonight." He says with a laugh.

Eddie laughs along with him, a little strained now because Gareth, Jeff and Freak are now squinting at him.

"Yes.. What a coincidence." Gareth says slowly as Eddie continues to pointedly avoid eye contact.

"Anyway! Got a lot to, uh. Do. Running a bit behind schedule actually, so if you could.." Eddie says as he finally finishes shoving everything back into his backpack and throws it over his shoulder, gesturing toward the drama room's door.

The younger kids leave without much complaint, but Gareth, Jeff and Freak hang back and walk slowly alongside Eddie.

"So... Steve Harrington?" Jeff asks once the kids are out of earshot, his tone a little disbelieving.

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing!" Freak slaps him on the shoulder disapprovingly as he speaks.

"It's not a bad thing! Just.. unexpected!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Eddie tries.

"Sure, sure. Enjoy your totally not a date night that's totally not with Steve 'the hair' Harrington." As Gareth says that, they've finally reached the doors and Eddie can well and truly escape.

He's going to have to break a few road laws if he wants to get to Steve's on time. It's only their third date, so sue him if he wants to try to make a good impression.

Even if Steve's been his friend for a few months now, and already knows about his horrible time-keeping skills.... It's still worth a try. Anything to woo Steve Harrington.

-

part two

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Ending

The perfect last line will:

Immediately make the reader want to re-read the novel from the beginning

Hook the reader into reading your next novel

Leave your reader chewing on the last scene long after closing the book

Types of Endings

The Perfect Loop

This ending back to the beginning. It can bring the reader back to the opening scene or first line, but provides added depth.

It requires planning and editing to craft both an ending and a beginning that feels easy and authentic, not forced or artificial.

The Surprise Ending

Completely switch up the story and take the reader by surprise.

Maybe a new detail is revealed or the narrator is proven unreliable.

It’s unexpected, but it should always make sense upon reexamination.

Remember this: All endings should be satisfying.

If you choose to twist the ending with a surprise, be sure that there’s plenty of foreshadowing spiced throughout your story.

The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, the last line should just spell out what you really want the reader to get from the story.

It doesn’t have to be in the preachy tone used in children’s fables, though.

It can be a realization of the narrator or protagonist.

The Cliffhanger

Sometimes, you don’t want to give away everything about the character. Perhaps you’re not even certain yourself.

Or you may have a sequel in mind, and there’s no sense in tidying up the lives of characters you’ll revisit in the future. In these cases, rely on the trusty cliffhanger.

This ending feels like the close of a chapter, and gets the reader excited about the next story.

The best way to create a cliffhanger ending is to tidy up the main plot points you’ve introduced within the course of the novel, but let the reader know there’s still more to explore with these characters.

The “Happily Ever After”

Alternatively, we may call this one the “crystal ball”, because not all endings of this type are happy.

In this ending, you’ll explain what happens in the future.

Follow the eventual lives of the characters you’ve introduced.

Oftentimes, this type of ending occurs as the finale in a series.

A way to tie up loose ends without writing a new book.

Happily ever after endings can feel rushed, if you don’t write them correctly. Each character’s story arc should be foreshadowed within the text.

Example: A prim and proper Southern belle who, in the epilogue, has run off and joined the travelling carnival doesn’t make much sense unless you’ve planted seeds along the way.

The Vagueness of It All

Some authors choose to provide a vague and murky ending.

This is the type of ending where things are left unsaid.

An ambiguous ending is often exasperating.

Readers oftentimes don’t want to take your story and come up with their own conclusion. They want to know what you, the writer, think.

They want a chance to say goodbye to the characters.

By leaving important plot points up in the air, you rob the reader of a rewarding end. Avoid this type of uncertain ending and rescue your readers from the agony of unanswered questions.

Edit With the Ending in Mind

When you first set off to write your novel, you probably have no idea where it’s headed. You may know where you’d like to go, but the characters often take off in their own directions and instead of being the dictator, you become the record keeper.

So, how do you have the ending in mind when you don’t even know what the ending will be? Easy. Take care of that with the editing process.

Editing is essential to writing because the first draft will always be just that—a first draft. It merely helps you blurt out the words and get everything down.

The second draft, and so on, helps you mould those words into something masterful and worthy of your reader’s time.

Once you start to edit your draft, start shaping it so that the ending seems inevitable from the beginning.

Remember: Inevitable, but not obvious.

Threaded throughout your novel should be a foreshadowing of the ending that’s only revealed in retrospect. While you don’t want the reader to predict the ending from the beginning (how boring is that?), you do want the reader to go back and look for clues to how this ending was always going to happen.

Examples of Great Last Lines

The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald:

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

This is one of the most praised last lines in all of literature.

In one sentence, it perfectly captures the mood and underlying theme of the novel.

It poetically describes the human struggle to improve one’s condition even when it’s only an illusion.

Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell:

“He loved Big Brother.”

This heartbreaking end to a biting social commentary will likely leave the reader with feelings of hopelessness, but the truth is this ending was inevitable from the beginning:

The crushing tyranny of Big Brother leaves no survivors.

The House of the Spirits, Isabel Allende:

“Barrabas came to us by sea…”

What stands out about this last line is that it’s also the novel’s first line.

It brings the reader back full circle to the story’s beginning.

Even in its simplicity, this line carries much more weight than it did when the reader first began the novel, because the reader now has a deeper understanding of what this line means.

The Book Thief, Markus Zusak:

“I am haunted by humans.”

As narrator, Death offers this profound insight on humans.

What’s so astounding about this line is that most humans are afraid or haunted by death, but in an interesting twist, Death is actually scared of humans.

Write an ending that makes the heart ache and then ponder. Craft a line that echoes in your readers’ minds for a long while after. The last line is your elusive entrance into literary immortality.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[6okuto]

mammon x bookworm gn!reader fluff :0

reading isn't really one of mammon's hobbies, but it is one of yours. he knows because he'll have to fight for your attention with a book (of all things! he complains), during nights in where your fingers stop running through his hair, or even grip it a little too hard in surprise at the words on the page.

he pouts and whines about how you should be paying attention to him, your boyfriend, and you just softly laugh. tilting your head, you ask, "do you want me to read one to you? i got a new one yesterday we could start together." hitting two birds with one stone—mind ultimately on him, and him finally 'reading' one of your books.

mammon huffs but agrees anyway, and he quickly figures out he actually really likes your voice when you read out loud to him. he gets more invested in the story than you, and when you leave the session on a cliffhanger for the night, he tells you you're doing this again tomorrow because you're real mean for not letting him find out what happens next.

and it becomes a regular thing (mammon can't even try reenacting satan's reaction when he found out mammon knew the plot to the book you mentioned a week ago), to the point that he prepares a glass of water for when your throat gets dry, and he's thinking about it during class when he should be doing his assigned readings instead.

!! and then!! one night while you're taking a break for your voice, mammon does something new: he offers to read to you instead. you blink at him—"wait, really?"

"why’re ya so surprised?!" he huffs and takes the book from your lap before you can say anything else.

and he's not used to it, he stumbles over his words and his throat gets dry faster than yours does, but he doesn't regret it—not when you grab him and gasp when he says the plot twist, or when you whine and laugh when he refuses to keep going until you give him a kiss as payment.

"payment? i was reading for free the whole time, mammon!"

"okay, well, as a reward then! for goin' outta my comfort zone for ya!"

he's joking, sort of, not really. but he almost drops the book onto the floor, lets out something akin to a squeak when you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

he's in a half-daze when you pull away. "there, now keep going before i take the book back and kick you out," you threaten emptily.

and mammon is stuttering, eyes and brain not processing what he's saying as he keeps reading, but he thinks maybe books are a good hobby to pick up if it means more time spent with you like this.

@reverie-starlight no om tag list of course but hii friend!! wehehe.. mammon... i was actually considering tsumu for this too so i would've tagged u either way. what a world!

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#3 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.

Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵

Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.

Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.

He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.

The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.

The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.

That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.

Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.

“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”

Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.

“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”

“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.

“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”

“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.

“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.

“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.

“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”

“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”

“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.

“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.

“She’s coming.”

Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.

“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.

“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”

“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.

“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”

Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.

“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.

They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.

“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.

Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”

Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.

“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.

“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.

“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”

The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.

“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.

“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.

A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.

“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.

“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”

“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.

“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.

“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.

“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.

“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.

Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.

“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.

He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.

The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?

He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.

“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”

“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.

“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”

“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.

“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.

“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.

“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.

“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.

“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.

“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.

“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.

“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.

“I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.

“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”

She shrugs, taking the book back.

“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.

“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.

“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.

“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.

“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”

Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”

Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.

“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.

“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.

“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”

I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.

“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.

“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.

“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.

“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.

“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.

“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.

“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”

“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.

Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.

Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.

She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.

Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.

The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.

They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.

Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.

Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.

“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.

“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.

“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.

“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.

Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.

When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read—that she’ll love these books and so many more.

And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.

A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.

And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.

Tag List: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @little-missbookyworm

[colourstreakgryffin]

hii i really like your righting and i have a story idea ok its a hazbin hotel one.

so like alastor leave child reader for 7 years and like she/he/they feel abandoned and he(alstor) said he would go then come back like for a few hours, but a few hours turns unto days then days turnd to a year then 1 year turnd to 7. so now hes back but your with... vox(or Valentino just one of then u can pick)?

so now they feel abandoned and are like vox or Valentino tells them in a toxic way that they should stay with them

like i just need that drama. like i need drama to happen here!

so i would just love it if u did. and i think i have so ok ideas. so if u like this i could like come up with more! but for now this is all i got and it would mean a lot if u did this

Oooh. Right. It’s been some time since I written some juicy spicy draaammma~! I like it. It may not be that long but it’s still good. A great way to tease you all with a potential cliffhanger~! Hehe 🩷

Alastor- Abandonment Issues

That door will never open, will it…? It’s been this way for such a long time. You can’t remember when the bright red deer featured Overlord called your father would regularly arrive home. Now, that doesn’t exist. You almost forgot his name… it’s been so long

You were just a mere young child, a sweet little one that Alastor devoted his whole soul too and loved more than anything

One day, a normal day, he had to announce he was going away for a few hours to your face. Of course. It took some convincing and kisses and nuzzling for him to get you to let him go but you eventually came around and wave goodbye to your beloved father, as he proclaimed with his fancy radio-tuned voice he’d return in a flash

And you wish you never did

He said a few hours… it’s been longer than a few hours. You suspected he’d be back the next morning but he wasn’t. Rosie, Alastor’s most trusted friend, picked you up that morning since she learnt you were alone through her many eyes around Pentagram City and she took care of you. As much as you appreciate and respect Ms. Rosie for all she’s done for you… you want your father

He never came back. He never fulfilled his promise. He lied. He lied to your face and didn’t even have the decency to send you a letter

It’s been years. Though, the time felt like it flew by under Rosie’s loving care. The hours ticked over to days, those days ticked over to months, those months ticked over to years and now. You’ve reached the final stretch, seven years after the day your father just disappeared into the shadows with no semblance of communication or truth

Now. Apparently, he’s back… and you don’t want to talk to him. He lied to your face, why should you even give him the time of day?

Rosie is the one who mainly cared for you but she also let you go to Vox a number of times, the technology Overlord, when he offered to assist as he had learnt you didn’t have the Radio Demon anymore and he saw the perfect opportunity to finally beat the Deer once and for all

Rosie cared deeply for your safety and happiness so she entrusted Vox for his own power, blind to what Vox would end up doing to your perception of Alastor as he ensured to ruin it beyond repair by subtly manipulating you

“I am so sorry about him, love. Why don’t you come with me? I promise. I’ll give you everything you want and I won’t leave you”

Right from the start, Vox would love-bomb, in the most toxic but clouded way possible. Sweetly coo, express how frustrating it is to know a beautiful star like you was abandoned by your own parent and he questioned out loud how Alastor could do such a vile thing. This simple act, this sugar coating on your nose from the dastardly TV-head, was almost more than enough for you to start resenting your own father

Vox played your new father for the years he helped care for you, with the full intent to make Alastor’s most precious love turn on him and he succeeded so well, he couldn’t believe it. He raised you, joint with Rosie and he’s internally jumping for joy everytime you proclaim how mad or upset you are with Alastor for what he did

Not aware that Alastor wasn’t trying to leave you, he tried to talk to you but he couldn’t… his deal held him back. He didn’t want to tell you. He just… he was trying to protect you

Alastor immediately catches wind of what Vox did to you, almost the moment he is back in the City. That… that sly businessman shaped his precious baby deer to behave like a hateful spiteful beast at the mention of him. He couldn’t believe his baby… hates him. He didn’t mean for this, he couldn’t even take it. Almost nobody suspects that Alastor would express his regret and sorrow in public but he does

Just at the discovery that you don’t love him anymore but hate him with your guts, his little sunshine that’s almost fully grown now. You’ve become the right hand to his worst rival, you remember little about him and you love HIM more… that hurts more than any deal he’s stuck in, could

Alastor caught on the disturbing sight and it made him what to claw his eyes out in disbelief. Arriving up at the Overlord building for a meeting about some particular angelic issues, his sight and his brain not coming to terms with the fact you’re snuggling Vox’s lap and giving him love and affection like you’re HIS child whilst Vox reciprocates every drop you give him

But Alastor knew better… Vox is using you to get back at him, the ultimate revenge

His dual Transatlantic accent and radio tune dropping, his real voice… weak and tired from all he’s done these seven years with his soul-crushing deal and now defeated from the fact he’s lost you to the worst Sinner in Hell. His smile had actually faltered for possibly the first time ever, he just… he couldn’t pretend to smile at what he is seeing

Alastor speaks up the best he can, catching you and Vox’s attention in a smooth snap with his fluffy tall deer ears openly drawn back, clear pain in his crimson red eyes and lacing his tone but he doesn’t move from his spot at the entrance of this meeting room, clutching his microphone-staff hard enough for it to break in half, holding back the urge to rip apart Vox for this

It’s almost enough to make your heart pity him… almost

“G… Gris-Gris…?”