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ominous-auburn-orbs · 1 year ago

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@obamerzslop yo it's the thing, the wonderland au thing, the wonderland au piano kingleader thing

the thing

I've wanted to write for one of these au's for a while so this was a glorious opportunity that got dropped into the discord server

Mad Caine was performing his usual duties as jester, entertaining the Kinger of Hearts and delighting in his laughter. This time, his routine involved music, with him pulling a variety of peculiar things out of his hat and somehow using them as instruments. It brought a specific memory back to Kinger of Hearts' mind, of when he used to play the piano. It was a regal instrument and thus believed to be important for a royal to play. Now with no family in his castle to pressure him into it, Kinger played very rarely. He never felt much of a need to, anyway.

"You know, I can play the piano." Why was he telling Mad Caine this? It didn't matter and was unimportant to either of their roles in the monarchy. Yet it was still a part of him that he wanted to share with his jester. "It's been a good while since I've practiced last, so I've likely gotten rusty."

"Oh my, Your Highness! I had no idea you were so musically talented!" Caine paused his enthusiastic gushing for a moment. Did that sound passive-aggresive? Did the king think he believed him to be talentless? "O-of course, it's far from a surprise, someone as wonderful as you is bound to have skills in near every field!"

Kinger's face became warm, which he hoped was unnoticeable. "Thank you kindly, Caine." He always felt like he was doing something wrong, crossing some unspoken line whenever he said 'thank you'. It was near only ever to Caine, but it still showed weakness. Weakness would cost him his power. It would cost him his life.

"If you don't mind, Your Majesty, could you please play a piece for me? I'd love to hear it!"

"Caine, like I told you, it's been a long time since I played last. I won't be any good."

"Nonsense, you'll be wonderful! Plleeeeeaaasse?"

God, his ridiculous voice and shining eyes never failed to make Kinger's stomach fill with butterflies. But he couldn't yield, as much as he wanted to.

"Caine. No means no." His tone was harsher than he had intended, making him feel a pang of guilt, which really shouldn't have happened.

"Oh. My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty." Mad Caine continued on with his routine, Kinger's piano mention seemingly forgotten.

The next day, Caine entered the throne room only to find it empty. Although, he had come early that day, so it was to be expected.

"Your Highness? I know I'm ahead of our typical schedule, but I had this wonderful routine idea that I know you'll love, and Bubble Hare insisted I show you as soon as possible anyway, so-" Caine stopped short, fully realising that there was no one around.

"Huh..." His eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign of Kinger's presence. When he found nothing, he began to call his name, "Your Highness? Kinger of Hearts?... Kinger?"

The last word he said quietly and with caution. No one was to call Kinger by his first name unless they were beyond close with him, and no one was. Despite how it risked his life, saying that name spread warmth throughout Mad Caine's chest.

Still getting no response, Mad Caine dared to venture further into the castle. He really should've stayed in the throne room and waited for Kinger of Hearts to arrive, or even left and came back later. However, Kinger always loved his performances, and for all he knew something could be wrong. He simply had to find His Highness!

He walked down a high-roofed and elegant hall. Caine became somewhat distracted by the beautiful heart patterns on the walls, but was snapped out of it by the sound of piano music.

It was soothing. Majestic. Gentle. Grandiose.

The hatter followed the music further down the hall, entranced. He eventually reached its source, a room with its door ajar. Peeking in, he found Kinger of Hearts playing a large piano. The king wore an expression of both focus and serenity. Caine's eyes were locked on the chess piece's face as he repeatedly glanced between the keys and his sheet music. Mad Caine couldn't tell if he loved the music or the view more.

The rather peaceful moment was disturbed by Kinger playing a note that sounded off, followed by him loudly slamming his fists on the keys with a yell of frustration. Caine gasped, causing Kinger of Hearts to quickly turn to him, just as startled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mad Caine. I didn't realise you were here." Nervousness spiked in Kinger, which he hoped was hidden well. He hadn't wanted Caine to see this yet, if he was ever going to show him at all.

"No need to apologise, Your Majesty! If I may ask, what's frustrating you so much?" Caine fully stepped into the room and stood next to Kinger. The king turned on his chair to face him.

"I've been trying to learn this new piece, but like I told you yesterday, I'm quite rusty. It's not going as well as I would like it to be." Kinger of Hearts sighed.

"Well, I thought it sounded wonderful. I'm sure you'll master it if you just keep practising! When did you start learning this piece?"

Kinger's eyes darted to the floor, scared to admit the truth. "I started yesterday. Just after you left."

That was when it clicked for Mad Caine. He had asked him to play a piece, and despite his original refusal, Kinger was now learning an entirely new one just for him. His chest felt close to bursting. He really cared that much?

"Do you mind if I sit with you? I'd love to hear you keep playing." Kinger's eyes widened in disbelief before he shuffled to one side of the long bench. When Caine sat down, he could've sworn he saw the king's cheeks darken in shade. After a moment, Kinger of Hearts' gloves made contact with the piano's keys again and he began to play the song once more.

Over the next week or so, instead of performing his comedy routines, Mad Caine would sit beside Kinger of Hearts on his piano bench and listen to him play. Caine's eyes would be trained on Kinger, mesmorised by how hints of his thoughts were visible in his eyes and the movement of his shoulders. Kinger would occasionally return his gaze before getting flustered and looking back to his piano with a new intensity that always pulled a chuckle from Mad Caine.

Gradually, the hatter would scooch closer to Kinger, chasing the heat radiating off of him. He knew how risky it was, but there was risk in every interaction had with the seemingly, and ironically, heartless ruler. There was more to him than that anyhow, which Caine was more than well aware of. The two would sit close enough that their legs(?) touched. While he loved it, Kinger of Hearts would desperately avoid Mad Caine's eyes. He was supposed to be powerful, unfeeling, and yet he found himself wanting more of this small insane man's touch. Kinger wanted it more than anything.

Kinger would still get annoyed whenever he played the wrong note, but Caine's reassuring praise and head resting on the absurd fluff of his coat quickly calmed him down. Mad Caine never said it, but he loved all of his off-key mistakes. It showed who Kinger of Hearts really was, underneath the mask he had secured tightly around his face, never to slip. Yet Caine had loosened it. Wonderland knew their king as a ruthless man, executing all who dare go against him. Mad Caine could never see him like that, not after hearing his mirthful laughter and softened voice. Those wrong notes were who he was, breaking through the refined and strict demands of the music notes written on the paper. Those flaws were what made him perfect.

When Mad Caine entered the throne room once more, he prepared to walk to the usual room Kinger would play his piano in, but instead found the chess piece and his aforementioned piano in front of him.

"I believe I've finally gotten it right. I wanted to perform it to you here, if you don't mind." Caine stared up at the king, almost forgetting to respond. He nodded vigorously, fixing his posture to be standing as upright as possible. While it was only shown in his eyes, Caine saw Kinger's gentle smile.

Kinger of Hearts sat down on the bench at his piano and began to play. Mad Caine was nothing less than enamoured. He noticed that Kinger had chosen to change some of the notes, making the song even more beautiful than it had been before. At some point, Caine removed his top hat and held it against his chest. He never took his hat off, but he felt like this moment deserved it.

When Kinger finished, he let out a quiet exhale to try and relieve the last of his nerves. He couldn't tell whether he wanted Mad Caine to see this performance for what it was or not. If the hatter knew it was an act of pure love, who knows how he would react? Kinger of Hearts stood, somewhat unsure of what to do at this point, simply looking at Caine. He hadn't seen him without his hat before. He liked it.

"My king..." Caine's whispered tone paired with the new title felt like it would bring Kinger to his knees. The hatter had never called Kinger his king before. All it did was make the chess piece maybe even more insane than Mad Caine himself.

Remembering himself, Caine fumbled to return his hat to the top of his head. "That was- absolutely magical. I loved it, Your Majesty!" Caine didn't dare to say what came to his mind next. This really was the point of no return for both of them now. Doomed to fall for one another, or perhaps simply doomed to fall.

"Why, thank you, Mad Caine. I'm-" Kinger of Hearts took a deep breath, still needing to calm himself, "I'm glad you liked it."

"Of course! I know how long you spent on it." He had spent far longer than what anyone thought he would for someone else, let alone his jester. But Caine was a special exception for him. He always was. Maybe one day, Kinger would even tell him so.

#mutual pining save me #mutual pining #save me mutual pining #caine x kinger #kinger x caine #kingleader #royalteeth

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hiemaldesirae · 5 months ago

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The Hazbin Graduate's Guide to Homicide [4]

ENCLOSED IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE JOURNAL OF ALASTOR HARTFELT. IF YOU ARE NOT THE INTENDED RECIPIENT, DISPOSE OF THIS LETTER IMMEDIATELY LEST YOU BEFALL SEVERE CONSEQUENCES INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO, LOSS OF FINGERS, LIMBS, AND LIFE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR DISCRETION. SIGNED, DEAN LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR.

To my generous patron X, I'm still not quite sure how I feel about this... impromptu academic journey. Though I thank you dearly (and cannot ever fully repay you) for giving me the opportunity to study such unique and diverse methods of... disposal, shall we say, it is a double edged sword of sorts. I have made a few friends- two of whom I would consider close, though I doubt I have much experience in the lane of 'close' friends- and yet more enemies, one of which is particularly aggravated by me for reasons I simply cannot fathom. I'm choosing to believe right now that it is because she is immune to any form of good comedy (a politer way of saying that the girl simply has no sense of humor whatsoever and should possibly schedule an appointment with Professor Beelzebub to see if there's something to be done in regards to her vehement refusal to let any joy in life into her heart). In any case, X, I will take this chance to reassure you that I am learning more than I ever thought I would have in the hands-on and rigorous academic processes of Hazbin Institute, and that the people I have met during my stay all total to a very enjoyable stay thus far. I will, of course, keep you updated on the various comings-and-goings of my studies and how my thesis is being planned out, as well as the various roadblocks I have no doubt I'll be facing. Once more, thank you for your thoughtful sponsorship. I do hope that my results are to your liking.

Yours sincerely, A.H.

P.S. A note to all the lovely readers, I've made a few updates in the previous installments of this series. Alastor is now rooming with Charlie and throwaway lines have been corrected to not mention the names of plot-relevant characters. Also, as a content warning, there is some slightly transphobic rhetoric used (I tried to limit it as much as I could but there really wasn't a way for me to word it properly while trying to express the idea.) If you don't want to see that, then feel free to skip to the end of Vox and Alastor's conversation in the Jade Forest. Please enjoy this new upload of the Hazbin Institute for Homicide Practitioners!

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] / [ 3 ] <- more murder academy radiostatic

Though it may come as a surprise to those who knew him in a broader sense, Alastor wouldn't consider himself particularly well versed in the art of cooking (though he knew several people who would immediately jump to say otherwise). In his mind, cooking had always been more of a pasttime for him: a hobby to spend time bonding with his mother during and hide from his father's harsh words and harsher actions.

That was why Alastor's impromptu (not actually impromptu, he simply referred to it as such because he hadn't spent days agonizing over it like he would on other choices) decision to take up work in the Institution's kitchen was so out of character for him.

However- however out of character it seemed on the surface, Alastor was also quite the frugal spender. Though the funds entrusted to him by his sponsor were more than enough to supply him with everything he needed through the academic year and then some, Alastor was a man who had lived his childhood and early pre-teenaged years through the desolation of the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl, barely managing to scrape by thanks to his mother's innovation and resilience.

This upbringing, in turn, translated to a refusal to spend more than what was needed for a modest life, and a need to save every last penny that came his way. Plus, given the current path his thesis looked to be taking, Alastor had decided some weeks ago that it was much better to have excess funds left over than to have to struggle his way through the bayou once more.

Besides, this way, he got to learn more recipes to show to his Maman once he got back home.

The main chef of the kitchen was named Vortex, and from the interactions Alastor had witnessed while coming in and out of the back kitchen, he was involved with Professor Beelzebub in some sort of way. Whether they were courting or married or perhaps engaging in some sort of extra-marital affairs was a question completely beyond him, but either way, they both seemed happy and Alastor didn't quite care enough to ask further.

This was not to say that didn't mean he didn't speak to Vortex at all, of course- in fact, when he found out that the man spoke French (though it wasn't Creole French, he'd take it), the two had started talking on and off during shifts.

He'd also started to play piano at the local on-campus bar, a place that was surprisingly affordable given their one-drink only rule (a precaution to make sure that the undergraduates of Hazbin's didn't turn to alcohol to cope with whatever poor decisions they had made to land themselves here, no doubt).

This was a decision that had led to him making friendly small talk with the bartender, Husk (another student working odd jobs around campus to make up for the money that wasn't going into tuition) and adding another acquaintance to the motley crew of fellows he'd gotten to know in his weeks spent at Hazbin's.

There was his roommate, Charlie- who he'd never actually seen, save for hearing the occasional quiet sobbing from the bathroom at ungodly hours in the night while he was trying to concentrate on studying- a short young woman who introduced herself as Niffty and proudly proclaimed that her major was 'Murdering Your Spouse!', Husk, Rosie; the woman that Vox had told him about, and-

Well. Vox himself, obviously.

When Alastor had figured out why it was that Vox had sounded so familiar, he'd spent days agonizing over how to confront the man.

There was no way in any of Dante's infernos that he would be going straight up to Vox and saying something along the lines of 'I know your true identity and how you're dressing as a man when you were born as a woman' because if Alastor had learnt nothing from his father at all he had at least been engrained with a sense of subtlety and chivlary. And if his intuition served him right, he had a feeling that Vox wouldn't quite appreciate being referred to as a woman anyhow, given how he'd gone to such painstaking lengths to conceal his identity.

In the end, he hadn't even had to broach the topic himself. Vox had brought it up one day, completely out of nowhere while they were sitting under the shade of bamboo stalks in the Jade Forest, a place on campus grounds meant to imitate the serenity of real Chinese bamboo forests. "You know you're not the best at hiding your feelings, right?"

Alastor had immediately shot back with an offended, "And you are?"

This had come after a night spent at the bar, where Vox had somehow managed to get himself drunk after exactly three quarters of a glass of whiskey and ended the night sobbing into Husk's hat. He realized only after the words came out of the mouth that he was doing nothing but proving Vox right, but to the other man's credit, the only reaction he showed was the small upwards tilt of his mouth, a smile that said, I got you.

"Have you seen any of my movies before, or was it something else that gave me away?" Vox asks casually.

So casually, in fact, that the almost flies over Alastor's head, and he has to do a double take at the other man, who throws his head back and laughs, long and hard, howling like a hyena.

When he finally calms down, Alastor is staring at him unimpressed, which just sets him off again.

"Oh- oh my God, your face- oh, dear God, that's the best. If I knew that wasn't genuine I'd try and have you nominated for an award. Jesus, Al, I'm not an idiot, you were looking at me like I'd grown two heads in that one seminar from Professor Beelzebub when I said I had personal experience with chopping off someone's breasts." Vox finally got out, wiping a tear from his eye as he gasped for breath. It was oddly endearing as much as it was absolutely exasperating.

"Can you really blame me?" Alastor frowned. "I mean, even past... your own proclivities- or, I mean, your- ah-"

"Taking matters into my own hands?"

"Right. That. Even past that, it feels like a bit of an odd comment to make in the middle of a lecture."

"She was asking for examples. What was I supposed to do, not say anything?" Vox rolled his eyes, then flopped back onto the picnic blanket he'd brought out.

Neither of them had actually brought out any foods that day- it was clam chowder soup day in the dining hall, and Alastor had simply elected to skip out and bake a loave of bread for himself later, whereas Vox... honestly, given what he knew about the man, probably didn't eat anything at all. It was almost concerning how skinny the other was, considering between the two of them it had been Alastor who'd lived through the worst economic decline of the century.

In any case, the picnic blanket had mostly been decoration, but Vox had also cited not wanting to get his uniform dirty when he laid down.

Now, looking at the other man lying down on the picnic blanket, Alastor was reminded of a motion picture that Mimzy had dragged him to after several hours of painstaking bargaining- one that had featured Vox (well, the name he'd went by outside of Hazbin, anyway. Alastor still had no idea which of the names Vox considered his 'real' name and he frankly had no intentions of asking) in the same position, but in a great deal less clothes (thankfully, not none or else he wagers he would've picked up a rock and started bashing his skull in), and he looked away once more, willing himself to stop the flush spreading over his face.

"So..." Vox spoke again, breaking the relative peace of their silence. "Have you wrapped your head around the whole thing?"

Alastor paused, then nodded, still resolutely not looking in Vox's direction. "I assume this is... who you would rather be?"

"Well, obviously," Vox confirmed, though not without a bit of snark that Alastor had come to know was standard for the man over the weeks they'd spent together. "Being Vox Vanhal is... a great deal better than being Aussen Vesper, I'll tell you that much."

"Okay," Alastor said. And then, "That's quite the relief, then, because I was not prepared to start treating you like a lady."

Thankfully, despite Alastor's un-characteristic slip of the tongue, Vox only barked out another hyena-like laugh at that comment, and they spent the rest of the day trading murder tactics.

So that was one of Alastor's problems resolved. Another one, though, happened to lie with another one of his housemates in Pride House, a woman who had been there for a year or so by the time of his arrival. For whatever reason, Vaggie Mariposa had taken it upon herself to try and upstage Alastor in every class they'd shared together- which was a lot, considering they were both undertaking the same major of Murder Your Enemies.

It wasn't as though she was succeeding very well, though, besides a prank she had pulled on his radio that had- embarrassingly- caught him off guard and ended up earning him a demerit. Of course, not even a week later, he'd gotten her back with much the same setup, and earned her that same demerit. So in all, it wasn't as much a concern to him as it was a very petty move done by a woman who really should know better, considering she was taking a course to murder her enemies.

(Of course, there was also the times he'd caught her waiting outside the hallway to his room, but that was of as much concern as a stray mouse would be to an eagle.)

In truth, the only real thing that actually concerned him was the girl he shared a room with. He had confided in the matter with Rosie, who, as Vox had told him before, was really quite the counselor when it came to giving advice. He was glad to have met her here- the woman, of course, being a student taking the major of 'Murder Your Spouse' had nothing but an endless patience for Alastor's troubles, the same way he imagined that she had had to have cultivated for dealing with the absolutely useless man she was married to.

"...anyway, I don't understand there is to do about her. She's weeping every night and keeping me up, but it's not as if I can breach the topic with her when she's someone I hardly know," Alastor shrugged. "I'm no good with weepy overgrown children. Whatever it is she's discovered about herself, I wish she'd simply keep it to herself."

"Alastor," Rosie chided him. "That's no way to speak about your roommate. She's likely under a lot of pressure, poor girl- some students are on the verge of flunking out, you know, and as I'm sure the Dean has told you, there are very severe rules for failing at Hazbin's. At least show her some sympathy. Talk to the girl, lecture her if you must, but don't disparage her."

Vox had said much the same thing when Alastor had gone to him to complain instead, so, in the end, he'd given in. The next time he'd found himself poring over one of the large textbooks Professor Mammon had insisted on them buying and heard the stifled sobbing coming from the bathroom, Alastor sucked in a sigh and left his seat.

He knocked on the door hesitantly. "Hello? Are you alright in there, dear?"

The sobbing stopped near instantly, though Alastor could still hear quiet sniffling. "I'll need an answer, if you don't mind. I'd rather not have it on my conscience for causing you to hit your head on the bathtub edge and drown- though I suppose that may earn me a few more points."

"I'm fine," came the firm but quiet response on the other side. "I just- I need a bit."

"I'll be here, then, if you wish to talk," Alastor said. With that hand of invitation extended, Alastor went back to sit down at his desk, feeling a little prouder of himself for managing a show of compassion instead of harming the girl's esteem further.

What he didn't expect, though, was for that hand to be taken- weeks later, during a pre-Track warmup.

"Is... Is this a good time?"

Charlie Magne, the girl who Alastor had been roomed with stares at him with eyes so wide she looks like a caricature more than a person, and when Vox and Rosie let out twin gasps, Alastor feels a part of him shrivel up inside, knowing both of them will make him talk to her.

"I... I'm sorry, but I think... I might need your help."

#aussen is from german 'äußern' which google tells me means a multitude of synonyms for speak #vesper just sounded like a cool last name to me. and also it sounded a bit like whisper so i jumped on that #ran rambles #chai writes #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #the hazbin institution for homicide practitioners

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ineffablydelighted · 1 year ago

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[How exploring the Ineffable Husbands' dynamic in Good Omens can help us figure out what the show/book is all about, Part 1/?]

Also called: This human has, apparently, too much time on her hands and will be trying to Effable the Ineffable for [...] hours.

Ah, Hello! 👋

I'm ineffably delighted to meet you all! 😇

Let's cut to the chase and bear with me as we try together to analyze further the subject of the day:

Aziraphale is in love with Crowley and I am pretty sure he is aware of that fact BUT

[yes, there is a "but", do not erase me from the Book of Life just yet, let me explain first, homie 🥺]

I do not believe he can comprehend WHY he is just yet, and what that would mean for him in terms of... well... EVERYTHING he ever stood for.

It will also be the perfect roots to answer the biggest question yet :

What is Good Omens all about, exactly?

[Yeah, it's a tough one. When I say "bear with me", I really insist on the fact that it will be LONG. I will try my best to make it fun to read and to allow some "natural breaks" but know that I would appreciate your unshared attention if you're willing to give it to me. 😇]

Although, would you have the chance to ask him about it (probably looking at a cup of tea as we would all do in Earthy fashion), Aziraphale would have somewhat of an answer to give you, probably in the range of:

"Because, deep down, Crowley is the nicest being I've ever known."

Is it false? No, Crowley IS nice. Swaggeringly nice, occasionally unhinged, but still. Nice.

And that is somewhat the core of the... "problem" for our soon-to-be Supreme Archangel [Yep, the pain is still fresh, thanks for asking, you're welcome for reminding you 😭👍] because, as much as Crowley learned nuances due to past experiences (Falling being, most likely, the most traumatic one,) Aziraphale remains bound to think in absolutes. And everything relates to THIS perfect meme right there:

[Whoever you are, person/entity who has done that, you have forever my utmost gratitude and respect]

I'm far from bringing anything new to the table here, but to Aziraphale, Crowley should NOT have fallen in the first place. Because of how nice he is. Crowley IS an angel, to him. In fact, I'll go even further by stating that, to Aziraphale,

Crowley is more of an Angel than ANY Angel in the "Main Office."

Let's present our other contestants, shall we?

When he ruled, Gabriel was an absolute a** and had an ego the size of, idk, at least A DOZEN GALAXIES. He made Aziraphale feel like... well... poop most of the time they interacted.

That is why, in S2 when Gabriel/Jim tells him "I love you", Aziraphale, even being and considering himself a "creature of love", happens to be utterly unable to either reciprocate or take the compliment. At this moment, later enhanced when he reminds himself of the Job case, he realizes he is able to feel, if not hatred, NOT love NOR admiration for somebody he should somewhat consider a role model.

That is very important for Aziraphale's present and future character development, especially considering Gabriel/Jim's own fate, so please keep that in mind.

Michael? Oh God, Same if not worse: too condescending and ambitious in the wrong way to inspire anything nice to anybody.

Sandalphon just does what they are told but can totally throw a punch if necessary.

Uriel is mostly cold, occasionally cruel, and can also be physically threatening.

[I love the actress, though. Gloria Obianyo deserves a Ph.D. in Resting Bitch Facing for her performance in Good Omens alone and I'm here for it.]

S2 Saraqael seems to be more layered but has also been hurtful to Aziraphale (especially when she ironized that he couldn't possibly be the 25-Lazarii-magnitude-miracle caster).

Overall, S1 Aziraphale refers to the "Main Office" Angels as "BAD ANGELS!" after their hostile encounter. We could see from his face he would have wanted to use harsher words but couldn't get past his forgiving, decent nature.

Before we talk any furfur-ther [Am I proud of this so-called pun? A-BSOLUTELEH 😎🤭], let's add a really important stone/layer to our favorite Angel's thinking: to him, it is simple maths:

GOOD = RIGHT, BAD = WRONG

And let's save it for later, shall we?

[Killgrave dear is just here to remind you you can take a break anytime to drink a glass of Talisker if you'd like, or, more so, if HE'd like. Also because that character is THE best David Tennant role on television - 10th Doctor being the worthy third, I let you guess which character is our second now - and I might have wanted to use this gif just to be able to say that, who knows? *whispers* Mysssteryyyy...]

Anyway.

To a being like Aziraphale, who mostly thinks in dichotomy, being an Angel requires one main requirement: being GOOD.

[Buy a farrrrrm and be good! Not just "pretendy" good but. properly. GOOD! - NO, I couldn't find the gif and YES, I'm mad about it, but since I'm also unable to make one myself, I'll just shut it.]

That is why he refers to the Main Office Archangels as simply being BAD.

At that moment, they had been mean to him, threatening, and, by doing so, they became somewhat active in Hell's Armageddon project. Making them "bad" angels, but, more so:

Bad at BEING Angels.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is, at heart, the penultimate goody-two-shoes: he does feel bad about himself whenever he does something bad/wrong such as lying (it has started to change, and I'll nuance that statement another time, but you get the grip).

He is constantly scared he might fall whenever he somewhat defies God's will or the idea he built in his head of what an Angel should be(have).

But have you paid attention to how his "Angelmates" NEVER seem to CARE about their own displays of, let's say "unconventional characteristics" for what should be the highest "Representatives of the sole concept of Good"?

Have you ever seen Gabriel or Michael being self-conscious about their narcissism and condescending tendencies? Uriel about their coldness? Saraqael about their sarcastic nature? Any of them about their use of violence? Of course not! They seem to be perfectly fine with it!

They own their characteristics, good AND bad.

Aziraphale does not.

Aziraphale is... soft. Even if he, at times, expresses regrets to be just that, he also applies it to his Angelic nature.

You know who else is soft?

Crowley.

Crowley is soft because he cannot kill children and takes it upon himself to LITERALLY DEFY BOTH GOD AND SATAN'S WILL TO SAVE SAID CHILDREN, including two annoying ones [especially the one who DARED to hit on Aziraphale but that is a topic for another day]

[MASSIVE Bildad the Shuhite fangirl here, consider yourselves warned.]

Crowley is soft because he cannot even kill GOATS.

Defying both God's and Satan's will to save kids? Yeah, eventually, okay.

Defying God's and Satan's will to save goats? Man, that's so effingly. more. powerful.

[Oh, look! A bird flying, normal thingy, nothing to see here, buh-bye!]

Crowley is soft because he proposes/"tempts" Aziraphale to "eat a spot of lunch", especially whenever his Angel experiences stress.

We have barely seen him eat, which might indicate he does not have such a strong taste for it personally. He only goes to the Ritz to enjoy Aziraphale's company and to watch him happily eat scrumptious, comforting foods.

[Okay, also because it morphed into a proper kink at some point but that is NOT today's subject, so stop trying to make me deviate from it! 😣]

Oh, and, before you bring that up, no, the alcohol motive is not relevant since he can, in all probability have a glass of Talisker in ANY sort of pub/restaurant in London.

[As a proper peated whisky lover who happens to be French, let me tell you this is NOT the case in my country and I'm super duper jealous of you, lads.]

Crowley is soft because he takes care of both Gabriel and Aziraphale's bookshop, even if it is clear he loathes the first and expressingly said he would not be a bookseller "even at gunpoint."

And, by "taking care of", know that I MEAN IT: he kept an eye on Jim, didn't wake him up when he heard him snore, answered any question he had, no matter how seemingly stupid they were [Even if Crowley, of all beings, cannot be anything but a raging "There is no stupid question, only stupid answers" representative] and offered him hot cocoa. As for the Booksho-P[uhhhhh *exhales in asthma*], he attempted to repair Jim's messy ordering twice and meticulously rearranged the place after ✨the Ball✨

[What do you mean, "he also Killgraved him into jumping out of the window?" HE ALSO STOPPED HIM FROM DOING SO, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. #NotBiasedInTheSlghtestIndividual]

Crowley is soft because he shares his Bentley with Aziraphale. Which is a VERY. BIG. DEAL. considering it was, at the time, HIS LAST ONE AND ONLY PRIZED POSSESSION.

[Should I mention that the Bentley FALLS IN LOVE with Aziraphale or is debating on whether or not that falls into the Oedipian complex territory off-topic? Yes, I'll see myself out.]

Crowley is soft because he rescues Aziraphale on countless occasions, even though, 99% of the time, that is pretty much unnecessary.

For real, guys: if Aziraphale had been discorporated in the course of his 6000+ years on Earth at any other given moment BUT on the eve of THE WAR with a capital "W", nobody in Heaven would have flinched.

[I do have a theory, though: maybe being re-incorporated takes quite a long time, which would have meant too many years apart from each other, hence the growing Damsel in Distress kink in Aziraphale, idk THAT IS NOT TODAY's SUBJECT, OKAY?!]

Also, Crowley is soft because "doing that makes him so happy".

Do you know who is supposedly "so happy" to save living things, aka GOD'S CREATIONS? Angels.

Crowley is soft because he rescues Aziraphale even when it is ACTUALLY ENDANGERING for both of them

He risked: his life, his pretty comfortable position "he carved out for himself", both his Earthy and Infernal homes sort of speak, AND EVEN HIS CAR to save his Angel's bottom/help him out in the direst situations (like stopping time to stop SATAN HIMSELF.)

[Also his past/present/future existence altogether, but the Bentley is more important, as I'm sure we'll all agree.]

[That is a Class A Protective/Helpful Husband, right there.]

Crowley is soft because he encourages Aziraphale to follow his passion for ✨prestidigitation✨

Even though he is pretty... amateurish at it. Not only does he encourage him, but he also HELPS him when he accepts to be his dashing assistant on stage.

[Yes, he does tell S1 Aziraphale to stop doing magic because he "has no idea how demeaning that is" but I'm pretty sure it was BECAUSE of S2 1941's events. Also, #WeStan1941Crowley here.]

Crowley is soft because he works pretty hard to make two humans he barely knows fall in love.

Yes, he also does it to cover his and Aziraphale's 25-Lazarii-magnitude-miracle lie BUT don't tell me his amazed expression when he thought he was about to witness Nina and Maggie actually falling for each other was not the purest, sincerest of all.

Finally, even if I could come up with more examples,

Crowley is soft because he saved Aziraphale's books JUST because he KNEW and CARED that Aziraphale CARED about said books.

That also, in Michael Sheen's very own opinion [as stated by Neil Gaiman in S1 GO DVD commentary], shared by many fans, and myself very much included, marks the moment

Aziraphale falls in love with Crowley.

[I DARE you to tell me THIS is NOT THE LOOK OF LOVE PERSONIFIED, go on, fight meh.]

So. WHY did it happen at that moment in particular? Well, because, first of all:

As a proper Jane Austen fan, Aziraphale is a slow burner.

Also, to him, an actual Angel, love is everywhere, so differentiating one love from another might be more difficult for somebody who can feel it whether or not it is even their own.

BUT [have you started getting used to my "but"s yet or should I harass you some more?] Let's go back in time to see how every previous encounter (that we know of) led to that pinnacle, shall we?

[Oh and, YES, this sort of essay will be long, and NO, I had no idea how much it would be when I started writing it, and still haven't, tbh 🤷‍♀️]

During part 2, we will also dive a little bit deeper into what Good Omens is all about.

[Yeah... I figured we would all need a break at this point.]

More on that later, then!

Hope I kept your interest at a reasonable peak. See you soon, Angels ❤

Need help to find the rest of this analysis? I've got you covered! Follow me, Angel 😇

Previous - Beginning (you're here) - Next

#Ineffable Husbands #Good Omens analysis #Good Omens #Good Omens S2 #Aziraphale in love #Good Omens theory #Aziraphale #Crowley #Aziracrow #Effable the Ineffable #Philosophy #Good Omens is a philosophical essay disguised as comedic/satyric/romantic Fiction and I am here to prove it #A maniac woke up one morning and decided to overanalyze everything about her current favorite thing #even though that will not help her control her hyperfixation in the slightest #also too many hashtags but you know I have issues already

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oh-no-its-dragons · 4 months ago

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Dead Dove

So over on the RQ server we were talking about dead!Xaden fics and @sarcasticmothwrites mentioned that you can't write a dead!Violet fic from Xaden's POV because of the chain reaction.

And the plotbunnies apparently decided to take that as a personal challenge.

Warning: Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

I feel it when Sgaeyl's life spills out, soaking back into the Source.

It begins with a pounding in my chest, and the sensation of claws around my heart. The daylight turns solid black around me, shadows forming a wall without even needing a command. For a moment I think it's one of those fucking Sages trying to teach me respect again, and I start to throw up my shields.

That's when I realize where it's coming from. The navy blue night sky of Sgaeyl's presence on my hill as if she'd never left, as if I'm not standing on barren earth here now where I used to let her power and her love wash through me.

She'd banished me, but she'd never completely severed our bond.

I wonder what could make her reach out now and when I see the stars falling in her sky I know. She's dying.

The wrench in my gut when I realize she's dying and I won't die with her is harsher than would have expected. It's been years, years of loneliness, of dragging myself up through the venin ranks, learning their secrets and leaving them for the rebellion to find-

For Violet to find-

Oh gods, Violet. If Sgaeyl is dying, then Tairn is going with her to whomeever takes the souls of dragons, and Violet…

There's no way for me to know which part of their bond was reason for it, whether Violet's already gone or taking her last breaths against Tairn's bloodblack scales. The scar on my chest burns, my scarred and faded relic burns, my own breath burns in my chest.

I should be dying with them, Violet in my arms or my hands on Sgaeyl's side. If I was a better man, I would be dying with them, or maybe if I was there I would have saved them.

Instead I'm alone here, wrapping myself in layer after layer of shadow like the blankets I hid in when my mother left, as if I have any right to be upset. As if I have any right to grief or regret after everything I've done.

In my mind, on my hill, the stars have gone out of the night sky now. The dark blue fades lighter and lighter until it's gone, replaced with the parched, bone-white sky that's all I ever see now. Dead sky and dead earth, and me standing here wondering if maybe I've been dead the whole time.

I am realizing just how much the knowledge that Violet was out there, still fighting, kept me tethered to my sanity. I haven't let myself think about it, but now my walls are broken and every feeling I put away in the last three years rushes in. Has Bodhi forgiven me for leaving the burden of the rebellion to him? Have Garrick and Imogen finally gotten around to talking to each other? Has Sloane been able to come out of her brother's shadow?

Are they still alive?

Do I deserve to know if they are?

No, not yet. I've played at this, but I haven't done enough. I stand up and the shadows around me retreat.

I stare at the back of my hand, where black veins snake under my skin and disappear into the whorls of my rebellion relic. My heart never let go of Violet or Sgaeyl, but the rebellion had been my family. It's time to take this fucking seriously.

Back on my hill, I plant my feet on the dead ground and send myself as deep as I can go into the ground. Sgaeyl returned to the Source. Tairn went with her, and a part of Violet would have stayed with him, I'm sure, no matter what Malek tried to make her do. Fallen stars. The inkpot sky on Winter Solstice the first year after Threshing when Sgaeyl took me back to Aretia, hours on her back feeling her breathing and the cycle of energy between us. I know this. I know her. And she reached out to me at the end, so maybe I can even believe she wanted me to do this.

I pull, and I hear her clear as the last words she said to me, "I chose you!" She did. She chose me. She told me I was ruthless, and relentless, and she liked that. She had given me such a gift.

That gift is still mine, the last lifeline. I feel her warmth in my veins, flowing upward. I can almost, almost feel her breath on me as it reaches my heart and mixes with everything else I've taken, everything I've carried, and begins to flow into the rest of me.

I pull and there's more, there's so much, there was always so much and I'm no longer afraid of burning out. I can carry all of her, because that's all that's left, and I feel the burn that Tairn's energy had always felt like at the corner of my hill, like when I snuck into my father's good liquor cabinet as a kid. When I recognize it I drink it in like a drowning man because I know, I know-

Ozone and hope flash through me and I can feel her hands in my hair. Her lips on my neck. I can hold Sgaeyl and I can hold Tairn but somehow my Violence is the one who's always been too much. I shatter, my awareness ghosting through what feels like every shadow on the continent.

Every venin I can find is torn apart by their own shadow. We're hard to kill but not immortal, not when reduced to shredded, rotten meat. I feel the shadows of running feet, of dragons wheeling mid-air to change tactics, the obliteration of shadows that disappear in fire.

I come back to myself choking for air, and somehow, impossibly, Violet is holding me. I only feel the fever when her hands are cool on my cheeks, and I wait for something awful, something I know I deserve.

"Say something," I manage to get out.

"Come home."

So I do.

#xaden riorson #my fic #i am posting this because if i had to spend all afternoon marinating in suffering at least i'm not doing it alone

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risingphoenix761 · 11 months ago

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Heir Of Nothing In Particular

We're so fucking back, baby! Well, kinda. I've finally managed to put what I wrote for last year's Crowley Against Humanity event over here. And I've also finally managed to put him AND Cas in a fic together!

Summary: On the edge of another apocalypse, Cas and Crowley contemplate life, emotion, and all things human.

Word count: 2800

Tags/warnings: canon compliant, somewhere in season 9, frenemies, post-human Cas, post-junkie Crowley, mild angst, addiction, and of course it got philosophical

It wasn't quite the time of year for it to be as dark as it was at that particular hour, but the day had been overcast and the clouds had hidden the sunset. The atmosphere was heavy with rain that had yet to fall and Cas spared a brief thought to wonder when the sky would break as he waited on the bench at the bus stop. Traffic sped by and time ticked past, and he began to debate leaving before, finally, there was a miasma of sulfur in the air only partially masked by what was likely expensive cologne.

Cas spoke without turning. "Hello, Crowley."

"Evening, Cas," came the reply. Crowley sat beside him on the bench. "Fancy meeting you here at a place like this."

"You called me," Cas reminded him.

"And you've a horrible attitude over the phone. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Has anyone ever told you you're an insufferable ass?"

"Sticks and stones at a time like this, mate?"

"A time like what, exactly?" Cas finally turned to give Crowley a glare that was as irritated and impatient as he could make it. "You've called me seven times in the last thirty hours. What is going on?"

"Don't get your feathers in a bunch. Just checking in on my chosen champion."

"If you're talking about Dean, he's not your champion. Abbadon is as much our problem as she is yours."

"True, but Dean taking the Mark of Cain was my idea, after all. Credit where credit is due, darling."

Always that self-satisfied tone, as though congratulating himself for being so much smarter than everyone else. It was a miracle Cas hadn't smote him ages ago just to shut him up. "I don't think 'credit' is the word you should be using, Crowley."

"It's perfectly reasonable. You need someone in the business of ideas to think outside the box–"

"Your idea was to turn Dean into a bloodthirsty killing machine with no will of his own!"

Crowley had the grace to look surprised. If Cas hadn't known better, he would have thought it genuine. "Ah, so it's like that. He's not doing well."

"I don't know what else you expected, but—"

"I know, Cas. I know. My idea was to kick the hornet's nest straight into Abbadon's face. It's only natural that someone would get stung."

Cas stared at him for a long moment. He didn't trust that odd note in his voice, that…melancholic tone that, in others, he would have called remorseful. There had been something like it over the phone when Cas finally answered it and Crowley suggested meeting to discuss the war effort, as he put it. Cas had assumed there was new information that would help them vanquish Abbadon, but he began to doubt Crowley had anything useful to tell him.

There was a distant rumble of thunder, and a gentle rain finally began to fall. Within moments, the wet pavement began to glow with the reflections of street lamps and headlights and the sound of water took some of the harsher edges off the noise of the traffic, but the world moved on. Cas propped his elbows on his knees and watched the passing cars. How strange it seemed that they should keep speeding by, heedless of the cosmic turmoil that threatened their existence. Then again, how many world-ending crises had already passed them by with little more than a whisper, as far as they were concerned? Why should the latest one be any more significant?

"Is that the weight of the world I see in those baby blues," Crowley asked, "or are you just happy to see me?"

"I'm never happy to see you, Crowley," Cas replied.

Crowley gave a huff of exasperation. "You've got something on your mind as plain as the nose on your face," he said. "Care to share with the class?"

"We're not in any class, either."

"Castiel."

Cas sighed and leaned back on the bench. "How much longer do you think we can keep this up?" he finally asked. "Doesn't the apocalypse start to feel inevitable after you stop it enough times?"

Crowley shrugged with a casually thoughtful expression. "It does start to feel like a regular Thursday," he conceded, "but you have to admit what a charming puzzle it tends to be."

"A puzzle that always falls to us to solve? To Sam and Dean? Why should the burden of maintaining the universal status quo always be on the same two men when the world they're defending couldn't care less about them?"

Crowley lifted an eyebrow. "I might have guessed," he remarked. "Always that bleeding heart for the Winchesters."

Cas rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Oh, my mistake. This is the part where I'm supposed to offer something trite and wholesome to lift your despondent spirits and rekindle your hope."

Was it too late to smite him after all?

"Right, let's see, then…" There was no need to turn and see the theatrical, contemplative air. Cas had seen it often enough, he could picture it in his metaphorical sleep. "I suppose, as uniquely equipped as they are to deal with these kinds of things, dearest Moose and Squirrel are in fact the best options for defending the universe as we know it? Who else could do it, if not them? And what else…ah, yes, we all have our crosses to bear, and this one is theirs? Destiny and tradition dictate that the fate of the free world should fall onto the flannel-wrapped shoulders of our much abused lads."

"You know, you're not helping."

"Well, Cassie, you know as well as I do that it'll come down to those two every single time."

Well, there was no arguing that.

Silence fell between them. Traffic continued to pass. A city bus eventually pulled alongside the curb and slowed, but the driver ultimately carried on when neither of the two figures seated on the bench acknowledged her. Cas considered leaving again; there was surely something more important he could be doing, and he couldn't say why he remained. Maybe it was lingering hope Crowley would get to the reason he wanted to meet up. Maybe it was that the toll of constant trial was finally wearing on him, and he needed just a few more minutes of peace and quiet…though maybe the cavalcade on the street didn't count. And maybe…Maybe it was the simple act of waiting in one of those liminal spaces that humans were so fascinated by that held him in place. Maybe he himself hadn't been human for long enough to truly appreciate the experience, but the ritual of waiting was familiar to him as an angel. Waiting for orders, waiting for battle... that's all eternity was, really. Just waiting. When you had all the time in existence, time didn't mean anything. It baffled him, then, that creatures whose existence was decidedly finite should spend so much of their time waiting as well.

Beside him, Crowley gave a deep sigh. "Well. Better them than us, eh?"

"What are you talking about?" Cas asked.

"You know. The whole… them thing. Living, breathing, feeling, human thing."

Cas turned to look at him, but Crowley was gazing at nothing in particular. Whatever thoughts he was lost in, he looked more melancholy than ever. Having lost his footing in the conversation, Cas only replied, "I…suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Angels, demons, assorted entities and such, we're not cut out for any of that. Better to leave it to them, if you ask me."

Cas stared at him. Where in the world was this coming from? "While I'm sure it's easier for all involved if Earth belongs to humanity, I just don't think that's going to happen anytime soon, if it was ever possible at all."

"Then we make it possible, buddy boy. We resolve the current crisis, we shepherd our ilk back to our respective playgrounds, and we leave humanity to humanity."

"Doesn't that directly interfere with the goings-on in Hell?"

"Oh, bollocks. We have enough souls to torture to keep us occupied for centuries yet. Longer, even, if we stop letting them off the rack altogether."

Cas acknowledged him with a tilt of his head and a look of skepticism. "No more yearly harvest of the damned?" he asked. "No more new demons? You can't expect me to believe that's what you want."

Crowley nodded. "I think at this point, it's for the best. It solves the problem of a new apocalypse every season, at the least. And it works out for your lot as well, wouldn't you say? If all the demons stay in Hell, that's a lot less…temptation…to worry about…"

He trailed off as though talking to himself, and Cas considered their discussion from another angle, suddenly suspicious. "Have you relapsed?" he demanded.

Crowley turned to face him, as defensive as Cas was suspicious, but he gave a great, weary sigh after a moment and said, "No. Still clean." He thought about it a moment, then scoffed, "Clean as a demon can be, I suppose."

"But you've been tempted," Cas inferred.

"That's a terrible word for it. Temptation implies some personal gain along with the cost. Pleasure. Fun. The thing you don't realize about addiction is that temptation takes a backseat to compulsion as soon as it stops being fun, and that takes a lot less time than you think it does. You keep going because you can't make yourself stop, and you hate yourself for it every bloody step of the way. Does that sound like fun to you?"

"Well, in truth, I can't imagine it was ever fun," Cas admitted, "since it was forced on you."

"And damned if it hasn't nearly cost me my kingdom." There was a bite of fury in the voice, and he sounded almost like the Crowley of old. "I could still lose it yet, and everything I've worked for over the last few centuries, because the world keeps trying to end itself and the bloody frigging Winchesters have to be at the bloody frigging center of it."

Cas waited for the outburst that could have been expected of the old Crowley, but the fury was only on the surface. The more Cas relied on what he knew of the demon seated beside him, the more it seemed to him that Crowley was exhausted in a way that didn't seem possible for a demon.

Then again, how many demons did he know of who had humanity forced back upon them? "So, you think confining yourself to Hell will make it easier to deny your compulsion?" he asked.

Crowley shook his head. "You're not quite there yet," he replied. "It's never about the drug itself. Where's the fun in human blood, exactly?" He paused to consider for a moment, then added, "Well, actually, I can think of a few instances, but for the purpose of our discussion, there is none. The drug is a means to an end, and the high is what you're really after."

"And the high from human blood is…"

"Feelings."

The rain backed off to a fine drizzle, and without the insulating sound of its falling, the noise of the traffic intensified. Cas considered every possible response, but in the end, he stayed silent.

After a long moment, Crowley gave a small sniff of disdain. "Well, no matter," he said. "That's behind both of us now, and all for the better, wouldn't you say?"

Again, Cas considered. Then he reconsidered. The thoughts in his head were nothing new, had been in his head since he first began to contemplate disobedience, but recent events made them even more complicated than ever. "What are you talking about?" he asked, stalling for time. Playing stupid, as Dean might call it.

"Castiel, you know better. I heard about your little adventure as one of the rabble. Clearly, it didn't work out very well."

"It's…complicated."

Crowley seemed incredulous. "You're not telling me you enjoyed roleplaying Average Joe the station attendant?"

"It wasn't enjoyable the entire time, no," Cas admitted, "but there were times when…"

He trailed off as he searched for the right words and Crowley waited patiently for a moment, then prompted less patiently, "When what?"

"When I finally understood what it is we've been fighting for. If you had asked me before I was sent down here why the earth was worth saving, I would have said 'humanity' without further thought. But I had no idea what that meant. Humans fascinated me, but I didn't consider them anything more than simple, uncomplicated creatures that God created because he could and that angels protected because they must. I understood my ignorance soon enough after taking my post here, but even then…it took living it for myself, it took feeling, to know once and for all that their existence is precious. The time they have is all they have, and it's hard enough to be human without constant interference from the likes of us."

Crowley closed his eyes and tilted his head back on his shoulders, and Cas left him to his thoughts. Something had changed about the demon and it didn't take much to guess what it was. Cas was only mildly surprised it had never occurred to him that their experiences of late were so similar: he himself had been fully human upon the loss of his grace, and Crowley had been human adjacent after the botched cure left him addicted to everything Hell had tortured out of him centuries prior. While they were both restored, they were clearly not as they used to be, which begged the question, what were they now?

It felt longer than it likely was before Crowley cleared his throat and stood. "Well, it's always a pleasure chatting with you, but I'm sure we're both needed elsewhere," he said. "Let's not keep each other longer than we already have."

Cas sighed and got to his feet. It was fully dark by now, and the lights shining on the damp pavement revealed by absence the dry stretch of sidewalk where their bench sat. Cas hadn't been aware of how the rain seemed to miss them, but he should have known Crowley wouldn't stand for ruining his precious suit. That he had included Cas in his web of rain repellent was a simple courtesy. "Thank you," he said.

Crowley dismissed it with a wave. "Looks like we're on the same team again, darling. If we keep this up, it'll stick that way one day."

"Let's focus on Abbadon for now before we start talking about 'one day,'" Cas replied. "For all we know, this end-of-all-things is the end of all things."

"Oh, don't start giving your last night on earth speech already. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were getting emotional on me."

"You know, that was recently the entire point."

"Miss it already, do you? Not me. I learned my lesson. All that neediness and insecurity, the self-doubt, the awareness of your own pathetic insignificance…who needs it, anyway?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're still trying to convince yourself."

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"But," Cas added, "I think you may be right, and maybe we're better as we are. With everything going on with Heaven and Hell, I don't think we can afford to be anything else."

"Oh, indeed. Earth's last line of defense, a demon who forgot how to be a demon and an angel who lost his wings. What a valuable asset to the team."

"Actually, Crowley," Cas told him, "and I can't quite believe I'm about to say this, but you have been instrumental, and not just when there's something in it for you. I think the world would have ended by now without you, even if you did try to end it yourself a time or two."

Crowley looked flattered. "Why, Cas," he purred, "you certainly know how to make a girl blush."

Cas took a turn at rolling his eyes.

"You've been vital yourself, you know," Crowley added.

"It's the least I can do, considering I'm a disgrace."

"Bollocks, darling. If either of us has saved the world, it's been a team effort."

Cas gave a slight smile. "Pride is a sin," he argued.

"Of course," Crowley agreed, "and it happens to be my favorite."

"It's been said the meek shall inherit the earth."

"Come on, Feathers. You know they weren't talking about us. Grandstanding aside, I don't think our lot will inherit much of anything in the long run. At least, not the two of us. You fell long before Metatron's little eviction notice, and, well. What do we really need to say about me?"

Cas pondered a moment, then finally replied, "That you forgot how to be a demon, and maybe you're not as awful as you pretend to be?"

Crowley had already vanished, though, and with a final sigh, Cas followed suit. And as always, the rest of humanity moved on with no notice.

###

I've also decided to drop tag lists. 😱 I'm trying to put my side blogs to better use this year, so all fics are getting cross posted to @phoenix761fics. It's probably messy right now, but organizing it will be my next project. See you over there?

#crowley fanfiction #crowley #castiel #spn fanfic

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azzo0 · 11 months ago

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Feelings

The following chapter is a snippet from Always

Summary: Bakugo's been feeling weird around her lately. With a little help from his friends, he decides he's caught feelings.

tw: mention of a gunshot wound.

Yoshiko sighed, sitting in the bathtub with steamy water. It was two AM, and she couldn't sleep, so she decided to take a warm bath to help ease her mind. She slowly dipped her head in the water, feeling the water soothe her eyes. She heard her phone ring and got up, cursing whoever decided to call at two fucking AM. Water ran down her body as she walked up to the shelf in the bathroom, almost slipping on the wet floor.

"That was close." She muttered. She looked down at the caller ID. It was her mother. Yoshiko went back to the bath with the phone and attended the call.

"Hi, mum." She greeted.

"Hey, Yoshi. I've been calling for ages. Were you asleep?" Worry laced Yoko's voice.

"Nah, I'm taking a bath. I forgot to call you back earlier."

"Ah." A moment of silence. "Are you okay, Yoshiko?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've seen the news, right?"

"Mhm."

"Are you okay?"

"I said I'm fine." Yoshiko cringed when the words came out harsher than she meant them to be.

"Oh. W-we have to visit the police station at eight in the morning. I'll come to pick you up, alright?"

"Yeah, okay." She said. "Thank you for checking on me." She added in an attempt to make up for being harsh.

"Of course, Yoshi." Her mother chuckled. "Go to sleep after your bath. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Yoshiko unlocked her phone and saw seven missed calls from Shinsou. She wondered if he was still asleep or awake. Before she could jump to an answer, he called her again.

"Ever heard of calling back?" Shinsou said as soon as she attended his call, his voice irritated.

"Where's the fun in picking up the first time?" Yoshiko teased.

"Yeah, right. Now tell me what's going on in your ugly head."

"The usual," Yoshiko said, crossing her legs. "Like how amazing, incredible, stunning, breathtaking and wonderful I am-"

"Oh, shut it." Shinsou inturputed. "Has Bakugo been stroking your ego?"

"He's only been stroking my temper." Yoshiko laughed. She dipped half of her face in water, closing her eyes, thinking about how he let her put her head on his shoulder. "He's been a wee bit nicer." She added, giving him some credit for letting her lean on his shoulder.

"Bakugo and nice? Nice joke. Anyways, you know that's not why I called." He said.

"Mmm, I'm fine. I swear. There's not much I can do about it, you know?"

"So you did not throw a temper tantrum?"

"I hope you dont get sleep for a week straight."

"Take that back."

"Never."

"Has anyone ever told you how mean you are?" Shinsou joked.

"Not enough people." Yoshiko got out of the bath, splashing water in the process.

"Don't tell me you're taking a bath at two in the morning," Shinsou said, hearing water splash.

"I dont see what's wrong with that." Yoshiko said, putting a towel around her bare body. She went into her room and dried her body.

"Just weird."

"If you can make out with Aktugawa at two in the morning, I can definitely take a bath at two in the morning." Yoshiko teased as she spread her vanilla-scented body lotion across her legs and arms. She smirked when she heard Shinsou choke on the air.

"W-WHAT?! How do you know?!"

Yoshiko stared at the screen. She didn't know. She just made it up. Now she had something to tease him about. "Hmmm? I didn't actually know you sucked her face two in the morning. I've gained valuable information."

"I swear to god, if you tell anyone..." He threatened.

"Heh, dont forget to use protection. I don't want to babysit your kids yet."

"YOSHIKO!!" He yelled, flustered.

"Just sayin'." Yoshiko went on, now dressing in a T-shirt and basketball shorts. "You dont want to be a dad at sixteen, do you?"

"Yoshiko! We haven't- we-" He searched for words. Yoshiko chuckled and shook her head.

"I was just teasing you. You're a whole different person when you're flustered."

"When you get into a relationship, you're going to regret saying all that to me," Shinsou promised.

"Yeah, sure. Not like I'm getting into one anytime soon."

"Uhuh? You've been spending a lot of time with Mister Explosions. What about that?"

"Meh, it's nothing like that," Yoshiko said. "We're just friends."

"Whatever. You get my point."

"Yeah." Yoshiko chuckled. "I've gotten comfy in bed now. I'm hanging up."

"Wait. Do you want to play call of d-"

"You're not ruining my sleep again, Insomniac Idiot." Yoshiko deadpanned.

"You suck," Shinsou muttered.

"Good night, Hitoshi," Yoshiko said, hanging up.

Yoshiko set an alarm for seven thirty and put her phone on the side table. She pulled the blanket over her, feeling the warmth creep over her cold body. She closed her eyes, slowly drifting into sleep.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Bakugo was pissed, and it was Yoshiko's fault.

He tossed and turned around, tried drowning out her face in his mind by putting a pillow on his face, punching the bed and scrubbing his face in frustration. If it wasn't her goddamn face finding a way into his head, it was her voice.

"I'm gonna throw her off a cliff." He muttered into the mattress.

His heart raced as he thought about her leaning onto his shoulder. He closed his eyes, thinking about her smiling at him, her freckles moving upwards with the gesture. Her stupid, fiery personality that drew him into her like a moth to a flame. His fists clenched onto the sheets as he thought about the day she pinned him against the wall, her voice sending goosebumps onto his skin.

What would have happened if he turned around forcefully and managed to pin her instead? What if he pinned her wrists above her head and tilted her head towards him, having angry moon-like eyes glare at him. What would her lips taste like? What if he lowered his head and slammed his lips onto h-

"BAKUGO FUCKING KATSUKI!" Bakugo roared, sitting up and slapping himself with all his might. He angrily went back to his pillow and threw the covers over himself. His cheek pulsed where he hit himself. At least he stopped fantasising about the damn Solar Panel now.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Bakugo woke up groggy. He wasn't used to such a small amount of sleep. He half-heartedly took a shower and changed into his hero attire. He ran a hand through his hair to untangle some knots. He was surprised Yoshiko wasn't knocking on his door yet since it was time to go to the agency. He put on his gauntlets and unlocked the door, stepping out to see Yoshiko locking her door.

"Hey, Bakugo." She greeted. She was in casual clothing instead of her hero costume, wearing a plain black cotton T-shirt with jeans. She pointed at his cheek. "I see five fingers. Who stole my dream of slapping you?"

"Fuck off. Why aren't you in your hero costume yet?"

"Have to visit the police with mom," Yoshiko replied, pocketing her keys. "Already texted Keigo. He's got a ton of paperwork for you to do in the meantime."

"Did you two just set me up for slavery?" Bakugo rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Now, about the slap. Who slapped you?"

I slapped myself because I couldn't stop thinking about your annoying little, pretty, pesky face.

"Accidentally hit myself in the shower... while washing my face," Bakugo said, looking away from her as he lied.

"You're a bad liar." Yoshiko deadpanned. Her phone rang, and she looked down to see her mom calling. "Okay, Pomie, I'm going now. Have fun."

She dashed towards the elevator, giving him the finger with a smug face as the doors slowly closed. Bakugo's eye twitched in annoyance. She just had to seize every chance to get on his nerves, did she?

｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

"Sunbeam! We were expecting you." A young police officer with navy blue hair as dark as his uniform greeted the mother and daughter with a pearly white smile. He had thin and long hair, which were pulled in a low ponytail. Yoshiko was convinced he'd be a knight if he were in armor.

"Ah, and you've got Akimitsu-chan too. Or would you prefer Photonix?" He grinned at Yoshiko.

"Anything will do," Yoshiko muttered.

"Alright, follow me, please!" He turned around, his ponytail elegantly moving along with him. Yoshiko was sure he was a new officer. He had an air of boyishness around him.

Yoko and Yoshiko followed the man into an interview room, where he would be explaining the whole situation to them all over again. Yoshiko didn't want to be here anymore. She didn't want to go over Daisuke's death again. She wanted to pretend he never died. To pretend he was there.

She recalled the day his body came back from the mortuary. No one would let her lift the coffin lid and see him. But she managed to shove everyone away. She had to say her goodbyes. She remembered his face drained of colour but still handsome as ever. She remembered pushing his bangs back, seeing the hole through where the bullet went into his head. She recalled cupping his cold cheek. When he was buried in the ground, a piece of her heart was buried along with him.

"Yoshiko... do you want to wait outside?" Yoko soothingly whispered as they stood outside the room.

"No, I'm good," Yoshiko replied. The officer opened the door for them. They went in, sitting on the chairs in front of the desk. Yoshiko glanced at the officer's name tag on his right breast. Officer Riku.

"Would you guys like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Or maybe juice?" He smiled, holding an electric kettle in the corner of the room.

"No, thank you." Yoko shook her head.

"Alright then." Riku took a seat across from them. "So, as you're already aware, we've found a body which we've confirmed to be Hiroto." Riku opened the file on the table in front of him. "Last year, we also confirmed that it was Hiroto who shot Daisuke-san in the head and dumped him in the river. But now, we've found Hiroto's body, too. This only leads us to assume that there's someone else behind both these murders."

"Obviously," Yoshiko grumbled. Yoko nudged Yoshiko's foot with hers, sending her a silent glare to behave.

"We want to know if there was any case Daisuke-san was working on before his death that you two are aware of."

"Hmm..." Sunbeam bought a knuckle to her chin, trying to remember. "No, not anything that I'm aware of. Most of his operations were with Hawks, so that's where you'll find your answer."

"I see," Riku scribbled something down in his notepad. "That's it for now. Thank you for your time."

Riku watched Yoshiko get up abruptly and make her way to the door before Yoko could even get up. He felt her pain. Yoko let out a sigh and smiled at him before going after her. He got out of his seat and stepped out of the room. "Akimitsu-chan." He said.

Yoshiko glanced behind her shoulder, silver eyes bored. Riku bowed for Yoko and Yoshiko.

"What- Please raise your head!" Yoko exclaimed.

"This is on the behalf of the police," Riku said. "We're sorry we couldn't find this out before. But sometimes we make mistakes, too. Sometimes, it takes us years to find the person behind a murder. My mother was brutally murdered when I was a teenager. Two years ago, the police finally found her murderer. So please, place your faith in us. We promise to find justice for you, no matter how long it takes."

"Please raise your head," He heard Yoshiko's voice. He raised his head, meeting the girl's eyes. He could swear her previously angry eyes had softened. "I'm sorry for your loss. I trust you guys. Heroes make mistakes and miss important details, too. I'm a hero student myself, and I've made countless mistakes my mentors helped me fix." She smiled at Riku. "So I understand."

Yoko smiled at Yoshiko. Sometimes, she could be so mature despite her hard-headedness. She put an arm around her daughter's shoulder and bowed. "Thank you for your service."

｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Yoshiko walked into the office room to see Bakugo stamping papers. Her eyes fell on the orange tabby cat curled up on the desk. Bakugo sighed, putting a stamped paper away. He put an elbow on the desk, resting his chin in his palm. With the other hand, he patted the kitten.

"I see you've met Kiara," Yoshiko said, walking up to his desk. Bakugo looked up at her. She was in her hero costume now.

"Yeah," He replied. "She pounced on me out of nowhere. Where was she yesterday?"

"Hawks got an extra room for her at the agency. She spends most of her time there." Yoshiko said, leaning closer to the desk and running her hand on Kiara's fur. "I found her trying to cross the road some time ago. She's grown so much since."

"Shoulda named her Flame," Bakugo said, softly snapping his fingers at the kitten.

"Because she's orange? Fuck no." Yoshiko said, picking Kiara and cradling her. Kiara climbed up the fabric of Yoshiko's vest and sat on her shoulder.

She's good with animals, Bakugo thought. And kids, he added after he remembered Mistumi.

"How'd the police visit go?" Bakugo asked.

"It was fine, I guess," Yoshiko replied, scratching Kiara's head, making her purr. "The officer just told us about the whole deal all over again 'cause families of victims ought to know about what actually happened. But then we already knew what was going on." Kiara jumped off Yoshiko's shoulder, landing on the desk. "Now we're just going to wait for what the police finds out."

"Oh."

Yoshiko dragged a chair beside him and took half of the stack of papers. "I'll stamp these with you, and then we can patrol."

｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

It was 10 p.m., and Bakugo couldn't sleep. Again. He paced around his room, wondering why his heart and feelings were acting up around Yoshiko. He felt himself softening up to her, wanting to spend more time with her. And her blabbing didn't annoy him that much anymore. The same went with his friends, but with Yoshiko, it felt different.

He fell back first onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't stupid. He knew what this feeling could mean. He turned to his side, cheeks dusted with a faint pink. Was he really feeling this for a brat who had the audacity to show up with an explosion quirk, break his nose, beat the shit out of him on the training exercise on the very same day, have the nerve to call him her friend, and get first place on the sports festival along with him?

His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he thought about her proud grin after she won in sparring against him. Her cheeks flushed from the exercises they did together in the dorm gym. Her stupid, magnetic eyes that pulled him into her. He groaned and sat up, running a hand down his face.

"Do I fucking like her?" He asked himself out loud. I've been feeling fluttery around her. My palms start sweating more. There's this weird feeling in my chest and stomach. Her stupid face manages to make it into my head twenty-fucking-four seven. I hate her.

I might like her.

Bakugo had the sudden urge to ask someone for guidance. That someone was his childhood friend and the only person in the class in a relationship. Then there was his red-haired friend, who Bakugo knew had a small crush on Mina.

He hesitantly opened the group chat, which consisted of only him, Midoriya and Kirishima. Most of the texts were from Kirishima and Midoriya, with a few rare texts from Bakugo. With a deep breath, he pressed the group call button. The call went through after a few rings.

"Damn, look whos up past bedtime!" Kirishima exclaimed.

"Hey, guys!" Modoriya greeted.

"Hey," Bakugo said.

"Kacchan, you're not asleep yet?!" Midoriya gasped.

"Couldn't sleep." Bakugo clicked his tongue.

"Well, that's a first," Kirishima said. "Do you guys want to game?"

"Sure-" Midoriya began, interrupted by Bakugo.

"That's not why I called." He said, his heart beating loudly at the idea of saying he liked Yoshiko out loud. "There's something I want to ask."

"Sure, what's up, bro?" Kirishima asked, his voice concerned.

"Is everything alright, Kacchan?"

"Yeah. How does it feel to like someone?" Bakugo bit his tongue, internally cringing.

"Huh?!"

"Kacchan... I don't think I heard you right. Can you repeat that?!"

"You heard me!" Bakugo yelled, flustered.

"NO WAYYY! BAKUGO LIKES SOMEONE! POP THE CHAMPAGNE!" Bakugo could hear the springs of Kirishima's mattress as he jumped up and down.

"SHUT UP, SHITTY HAIR!"

"That's a surprise..." Midoriya said.

"Shut up! I don't like anyone! I'm asking for... a friend!"

"Uhuh? Since when did you start making friends?" Kirishima teased.

"I will ram your skull into a wall." Bakugo threatened.

"It's Akimitsu-san, isn't it?" Midoriya asked, smiling at the thought of his friend liking someone.

"I'm one hundred per cent sure it is Akimitsu," Kirishima said.

"Shut up..." Bakugo buried his head in the sheets, cheeks warming.

"Yeah, it's her," Midoriya confirmed.

"Our Bakugo is growing up!" Kirishima cried.

"You fools haven't answered my question yet." Bakugo hissed.

"Okay, uh, does your heart race around her?" Kirishima asked.

"...Yes." He shyly replied.

"Do you get nervous around her?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you think about her often?"

"Why is this a fucking interview?! I could have used Google if I wanted!" Bakugo yelled.

"Yeah, right. Answer the question, Bakugo." Kirishima said.

"Fucking fine. Yes." He muttered.

"Aw-"

"I will blast you to hell."

"Okay, okay. What is it that you like about her?" Kirishima asked.

"What do I like about her?" Bakugo questioned.

"Yeah! What do you find attractive about her?"

Bakugo scratched his cheeks, which were growing hotter by the moment. "It's her personality, okay? She reminds me of myself sometimes... and I like that because she also understands me. I relate to her in ways more than one. She's not afraid to chase her dreams. She's strong, brave, bold and resilient. The fact that she's just like me is attractive." A soft smile made its way to Bakugo's lips. "She's... also the most beautiful thing I've laid my eyes on." He whispered.

Kirishima and Midoriya took a few seconds of silence to process everything Bakugo just said. The blonde's eyes widened as he realised he let out more than he meant to.

"I-if you guys tell a soul, I'll make sure you never see daylight again!" Bakugo yelled.

"Bakugo, I dont think you needed to ask us," Kirishima said.

"Yeah, Kacchan. You already have your answer." Midoriya smiled. "After what you said, I'll definitely say you like Akimitsu-san. But that's up to you to decide. What does your heart say?"

Bakugo took a few seconds to think about Midoriya's question. What does my heart say? He put a hand on his chest, feeling it thrum against his fingers. His lips tugged up in a smile. "I got my answer."

"There you have it, Bakugo," Kirishima said. Bakugo swore he could hear Kirishima's grin.

"But it's still a little difficult to digest," Midoriya said.

"Then take digestion pills." Bakugo snorted, making both his friends laugh. "Oi, Izuku, Kirishima."

"Yeah?" They said in unison.

"Thanks."

"Stop, you've become so manly!" Kirishima sobbed.

"Anytime, Kacchan!"

"Idiots..." He grinned, hanging up.

Bakugo threw his phone on the bed, walked up to the balcony door, unlocked it and stepped outside. He let the night breeze hit his face as he watched the bustling nightlife.

"I like her." He whispered into the air.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

#bnha #bakugo #mha #bakugou #katsuki #katsuki bakugo #wattpad #bakugoxoc #kacchan #bakugo x oc #hitoshi shinsou #shinso #mha oc

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marocato-translyrics · 6 months ago

Text

Justice - ZUTOMAYO

translated by marocato

Standing on the tips of my toes, I still can't understand

Why the more buds I save, the more petals inevitably scatter away

I'm hugging my knees as I sit across where you stand

Today I waved my hand because I wanted you to see me

My eyes are bloodshot and my voice is an empty tune

Your gentle voice made me want to sing along with you

Will I ever get used to this warmth, one like napping in the afternoon?

Your bright and cheery smile had always felt so familiar to me

A warm embrace, please don't forget, please don't end

Bidding goodbye doesn't always mean it ends here

Yet, we've given and taken, there's no time left to spend

I'm sorry my friend, our bond weakens over time

Like the justice in a faint voice that was once alive

So close and yet so far, we tried getting to know each other

So close and yet so far, we tried understanding each other

So close and yet so far, we tried laughing together

So close and yet so far, we were brought together by chance

There are some things that cannot be corrected even by force

Because I cared about it too much for it to change

I'll try again now, with bittersweet remorse

To gather the missing pieces of my words

Even if nothing I'm doing is wrong

If hiding secrets is equal to so-called "justice"

Overcome your fears and stand tall and strong

But just letting it happen became a habit

A warm embrace, please don't forget, please don't end

Bidding goodbye doesn't always mean it ends here

Yet, we've given and taken, there's no time left to spend

I'm sorry my friend, our bond weakens over time

Like the justice in a faint voice that was once alive

Though I made countless attempts to talk to you

My mind goes blank and my words come out harsher than intended

I wish you could forgive me for that and other things I've done too

I say "sorry" from the bottom of my heart

Right now, your radiant smile is all that matters to me

Your gentle voice, please don't forget, please don't end

Your distant and fading voice sounds so free of lies

Yet, we've given and taken, there's no time left to spend

I'm sorry my friend, our bond weakens over time

Like the justice in a faint voice that was once alive

So close and yet so far, we tried getting to know each other

So close and yet so far, we tried understanding each other

So close and yet so far, we tried laughing together

So close and yet so far, we were brought together by chance

So close and yet so far, we tried getting to know each other

So close and yet so far, we tried understanding each other

So close and yet so far, we tried laughing together

So close and yet so far, we were brought together by chance

#zutomayo #zutomayo justice #translyrics

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bhaalbabebardlock · 10 months ago

Text

Daisies on My Nightstand

Chapter 16- What You Were Made For

Masterpost

AO3 Link

Summary: Ilara is bombarded with questions she doesn't have answers to back at camp, and decides to go to someone she knows for help.

"Explain. Now." Karlach's voice was harsh, harsher than Ilara had ever heard her, and she flinched. She took a deep breath as she looked around her at everyone staring back at her expectantly. Tensions had gotten high as soon as they returned to camp. Astarion demanding to know what Gortash had meant by 'nearest and dearest'. Karlach demanding to know how she had known him. Shadowheart silently watching with an unreadable expression on her face before finally slinking away to tell Gale and the others what had happened. And now, they were here. All of them. Waiting for her to talk. She didn't even know where to begin.

"I am... I am the chosen of Bhaal. A Bhaal-spawn." The words hung in the air between them, nobody saying anything for an uncomfortable amount of time before finally speaking up.

"How long have you known this?" Shadowheart's voice had a sharp edge to it, a note of pain underneath at not being told, making Ilara flinch with guilt.

"Maybe a week?" She replied softly, shrugging her shoulders. That was mostly true, right? She hadn't really known, just had suspicions. Clues. The urges. The dreams and memories of bloodshed and her rapture in it. Scleritas. A goddamn letter. A visit from Orin. Dreams about Gortash. She sighed.

"I think the better question is, what did you do?" She turned sharply at Jaheira's question, her face darkening.

"What do you mean by that?" The old elf scowled, her eyes scanning Ilara's.

"You are older than when you woke up on that ship. You say you do not remember, what you've done. Is that still true? And better yet, do you intend to go back to your father?" Ilara went impossibly more stiff, trying to decide how much of an answer to give.

"I have no intention of remaining a slave to a miserable god who wants to see the world end in bloodshed. As for what I've done, or what I remember... it is perhaps best I don't share, and just say that I was not good, or kind, or caring. I was cold, and ruthless, and always, always covered in blood that was not mine. The memories I do have are not comforting, or useful to us now." There was a long silence before Gale spoke.

"Well, this has been... Enlightening," he said lightly, trying to lift some of the heaviness. She narrowed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and temper her headache.

"You did... You did all of this? Because you were the chosen of Bhaal, wielding death in his name. We all have these tadpoles in our heads because you apparently stole the crown in some heist game with Gortash!" Shadowheart's voice had taken on an even sharper edge as she stared at her friend, and Ilara's eyes went wide.

"I. DON'T. REMEMBER. I don't remember, and I wasn't... I wasn't me. And for what it's worth, I am trying to fix it- which I was doing before finding out that I was involved in any way."

"You haven't even answered my question! You're hiding this from us, fine. Now we know. I know that's not who you are now. But that's who you were. I remember you." Karlach's voice was like a sharp knife dragging through Ilara, and she went completely still as her gaze slid over to her friend.

"What do you mean by that?" She didn't mean for her voice to catch as she asked the question, and she flinched against her own weakness. Always. Always so weak. Karlach scowled, shaking her head.

"When you found me, I thought you looked familiar. But the small handful of times I had seen you, it was ten years ago, in passing. And you were always... Silent, cold, your eyes so empty. I thought it couldn't possibly be the same person. Until Gortash said otherwise today. Then, I realized I had been right."

She wished she could sink down into the ground, erase the things she had done, the person she had been.

"I don't.. I don't remember," she said instead, shaking her head. She was so tired of that word, so tired of saying it to everyone around her , so tired of failing because her mind was a smooth blank screen of nothingness. Or had been. She at least had the memories of her perverted worship to comfort her, her every thought drenched in blood. She wished more than anything that she could offer some clarity.

"But you did, somehow. I saw it. In your face when you looked at him. We were right there, Soldier. Astarion and Shadowheart and I- we all saw the look on your face." Ilara slowly dragged her hands over her face, staring out at them all through her fingers.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Karlach. I don't remember anything. I'm not who I was. Whoever Gortash remembers, whoever he thinks I am, she isn't there anymore. The tadpole and Orin made sure of that." Her voice held a note of bitterness, a raw anger at what had been done to her. The thought of pulling Orin's entrails out of her as she laughed flickered through her mind, and she clenched her fists. There was a long stretch of silence, the tension seeming to pulse in the air between all of them.

"Will you be able to do it? Take care of him?" Karlach's voice was softer, a note of concern threading through her anger. All the color drained from Ilara's face as she realized what Karlach was asking her, and she clenched her fists even tighter, digging her nails into her palms as she chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn't know. She didn't know if she could do it, but she had to. So she would. It was was she was made to do, be a weapon in the dark against any who should try to usurp power. Wasn't that what he was doing? Didn't he need to be stopped? So why did it feel like sharp blades of ice were digging into her stomach at the thought?

"Yes," she replied, her voice feeling a thousand miles away. "I don't remember him anyways. What's one more death on my neverending list?"

***

She groaned, laying back against the bedroll as she thought about Astarion's question. It had been a long night as they all talked about what had happened. About her. About what to do. As they all had fired question after question at her that she didn't have the memories to answer. Astarion had been silent the entire time, until now, when he had quietly come in asking if they could talk. She finally sighed.

"I don't remember him, no. But yes, I... Had a feeling. There had been some evidence, some things Orin had said this morning and-"

"Orin?" He cut in sharply, trying to keep his voice level. "Ilara, do you tell anyone anything? When did you see Orin again?" She winced at the insult, her chest going tight.

"This morning. When you left to go hunting. It wasn't important."

"Wasn't important? Wasn't important? Darling, how much have you just been keeping to yourself? How much did you know about Gortash before we went to that coronation this morning?" Another low groan came out of her mouth, and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to stop the pounding in her head.

"I didn't know... Much. I might have had a clue, or two, that we knew each other. Once." A letter. Dreams. The way I felt when we stumbled onto him in those few precious seconds in Moonrise.

"Oh, it was more than that, pet. We all saw the way you looked at him. It was... It was the way you look at me." She went completely still, feeling like all the air had left her body.

"It's not... It's not the same. I don't even remember him. It's just... A feeling. An echo of something that was."

"You love him." The words hung between them, and she wished she could grab them out of the air, erase them from ever being spoken.

"I don't remember him," she whispered back. She clenched her jaw, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts before she sat up quickly, blinking at him. She had an idea, a desperate idea that she usually avoided at all costs. The one person she knew had a vested interest in her, had offered her a way out, had said she would come to him when her desperation had reached it's end.

"I... I have to go. I have to go, I'll be back by morning. I need you to not ask me any questions, not right now. I'll be back. Do you trust me?"

"We are not done with this conversation, little love."

"I know. I'll be back to finish it. There's someone I need to talk to, who I think might be able to help us. The devil who has already offered us help more than once this journey."

She took a deep breath before standing up and grabbing her pack, slinging it over her shoulder.

"It's time to make another deal. I need to go find Raphael."

#ilara #bg3 fic #fanfic #bg3 fanfic #raphael #enver gortash #karlach #astarion #durge #the dark urge

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serasvictoria · 2 years ago

Text

Title: What You Need

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: When you finally visit Eddie’s trailer, your mind is very much preoccupied by something that you see hanging on his wall. When Eddie finds out, he gives you exactly what you need…

Word Count: 8673

Content Warning: Language. Spanking. Biting. Name calling. Degradation and the subsequent finding of limits (one harsher word bitch is used, but it is immediately obvious that Reader is not into it and so it stops). Soft Dom (but he's all over the place). Self harm (in a way, but it’s accidental). Fingering. Oral sex (female receiving). Unprotected rough sex (P in V). Squirting. Aftercare. Oh, and handcuffs.

Think that I've covered everything, but if you find something that needs to be included, please let me know.

Notes: Yeah, so, I have no idea what happened here. This was just supposed to be a “Oh, Eddie has handcuffs hanging on his wall and now I’m all curious about why he has them” and instead I got whatever this beast is.

This has been beta-read by @punkrocknpearls (thanks again!). Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @adrille88 @quantumlocked310 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @istorkyou

*****

“You’re being awfully quiet, baby.”

Eddie was right. You had been quiet.

It could be easily explained if only you could conjure up the words, what with his lips on your neck and one of his hands under your shirt, which was inching closer and closer to your tits. The anticipation was positively killing you.

That wasn’t why you were quiet, though. No, that was because you had been distracted ever since you’d set foot in his bedroom.

“Okay, what’s up?” Eddie pulls away, his hands leaving you, too. He grabs a packet of cigarettes from his bedside table, takes one out, sticks it between his lips and lights it. “It’s fine if you’re not as into it as you were before.”

Also not the problem. You didn't think that it could be possible for you not to be into anything that he would suggest. He had had a pull on you from the moment that you had laid eyes on him after all.

Your friends had dragged you to The Hideout for a laugh a couple of weeks ago and you hadn’t expected anything to come of it. A place to avoid in the future maybe, but no more than that. Instead, you had come on the exact night that Eddie was playing with his band, Corroded Coffin, and seeing him play his guitar… to say that you were swimming in your panties was an understatement.

Afterwards, you had seen him light a cigarette, approached him, asked him for a light and took it from there. About half an hour later, you were in the back of his van and he was buried in you balls deep.

But this was the first time that he had taken you home with him. It felt different this time around and the minute that you had sat down on the edge of his bed, your eyes had fallen on something that made you incredibly curious.

“No, that’s not it…” Your voice is soft as you try to come up with a way to explain it. You couldn’t just burst out of the gates and ask him about it pointblank, because that would just be awkward. “I’m into it…”

“Jesus, baby, look at you, all whispering and acting all shy and shit.” He nuzzles your neck and his teeth nip over your artery lightly. “So, what is it then? You nervous?”

“A little,” you admitted.

“You do realize that we’ve done crazier shit than this, right?”

He was right about that, too. It had only been a few short weeks, but there wasn’t much that you wouldn’t let him do to you. You had boundaries of course, but he hadn’t exactly found any of them yet. And even if he had stumbled across one entirely by chance, one look in those big brown eyes of his and you would have let him step right over said boundaries.

“Well, yeah, but this is your place.” Your eyes fall on what was hanging on the wall yet again, instantly making your mouth go dry, so you clear your throat before continuing. “And that’s new.”

“Just a bedroom,” he shrugs, like it was no big deal. “It’s not that special.”

“It’s your space and that makes it special.”

The look in his eyes told you that he didn’t believe you. He had already apologized profusely for the place before you had even as much as set foot inside the trailer that he and his uncle called home. It wasn't like it was that bad either. You had seen a lot worse.

“I guess,” he reluctantly agrees. “It’s not that great, though.”

“It is to me.” You twist your head until you face him and give him a light peck on his lips. “It’s like a window into your soul.”

“That’s deep,” Eddie replies with a chuckle. “My little poet.”

“I try.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette and then presses it out in the ashtray. His hands are back on you next, nudging your shoulder until you are laying down and when he got on top of you, he slotted his hips in between your thighs. “Eddie…”

“No more talk about my bedroom now,” he says in between kisses. “It’s not important right now. You are.”

“And you,” you breathe back when he starts grinding against you and lets you feel exactly how hard he was already. “You really need me, don’t you, big boy?“

“You have no idea,” he murmurs against your lips. “No…” He drags his lips over your cheek towards your ear so he could breathe straight into it. “Fucking…” His lips are back on your neck again, sucking new marks onto your skin and adding to the collection of fading hickeys that you already had. “Idea...”

Eddie had a way of driving you absolutely crazy simply by kissing and touching you, never exactly where you wanted him to, because he seemed to instinctively know which spots to avoid. It was useless to try and get him to speed up, as you had found out before, so you simply settled in and let him work his magic.

You turn your head to the side, your eyes closed, with your own hands skimming up and down his back. You gasp when he drags his teeth down the column of your throat, your eyes flying open at the sensation and immediately falling on…

Eddie feels you stiffen instantly and he pulls away from you with a frown. “Okay, something is definitely up.”

He could see that you were staring at something on the wall and when his eyes followed yours, he saw what you were looking at.

That’s when he got it.

“Oh, I see.”

Scrambling off the bed, he gets to his feet and when he extends his hand to you, you take it without thinking. He pulls you up into a sitting position and then walks over to the wall so he could brush his finger over the chains. “This?” You nodded and bit your lip, looking away from him again. “You’re gonna have to stop doing that. I’m so hard that I’ll burst.”

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He takes the cuffs off the hook, takes a few steps back to you and holds them up in your line of vision. “This what got you nervous?”

“Not nervous per se,” you reply. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth briefly, you enjoyed seeing his pupils dilate even more over such a simple gesture. Your fingers start plucking at the hemline of your black pleated skirt. “I was just wondering...”

Eddie crudely adjusts himself in his black jeans in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure. “What a nice guy like me is doing with these?”

“Nice guy?”

“You don’t think that I’m a nice guy?” He tilts his head to the side, a slight smile playing on his lips, until he sees you nod in affirmation. “There you go.” He sits down next to you and places the handcuffs and chains on your lap. “I’m a really nice guy,” he says as you run your fingers over the cool metal. “But if you want me to be something else…”

“Like what?” You hook your finger around one of the rings and hold it up, letting it dangle in between the two of you. “Tell me.”

“No, no. You tell me what you want first…”

“Show me the keys.”

“Baby.” He pulls his wallet from his back pocket, opens it and then pulls a small key from one of the slots that people normally kept credit cards in. “You thought I’d just leave you in them all night?”

“I don’t know,” you say, your eyes following the key as he moved it back and forth between two fingers before putting it back in his wallet. “Would you?”

“Only if you want me to.” He dips his head down, lips latching onto your neck again. “Would you like that? Me keeping you in cuffs all night so I can do whatever I want with you?” Your breathing quickened when he said that so he took it a step further, just to see how you’d like it. “You want me to, don’t you? To treat you like the common whore that you are?”

The moan that escapes your throat says it all. You are definitely into this. He sucks on your skin hard enough to leave a mark, making you whimper, and then he licks a stripe all the way up to your ear.

“Eddie-“

“Don’t worry, baby.” He takes the cuffs and chains from your hands and places them on the bed behind you. “I’ll take care of you.”

“By restraining me,” you reply with a giggle as he starts pulling your shirt up over your head. “Weird way of taking care of someone.”

“If you’re not sure-“

“I didn’t say that,” you interject quickly. Your shirt was already on the floor so all that you were wearing now was your underwear, your skirt and a pair of socks. “I want you to.” You reach around your back and unhook your bra. “T-teach me a lesson.”

“Oh, honey.” His eyes go down to look at your tits as you lay them bare for him. “You can do better than that.”

“O-okay.” This was kind of new to you, but you could certainly try. You put your index finger in your mouth, biting down gently, trying your best to look demure. “I’ve been bad.”

“How bad?”

“Touched myself when you weren’t there,” you confess. It's all that you can think of right now and you think that it's a rather disappointing excuse. Not that Eddie seems to mind. “Pretended that you were fucking me with your fingers instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really. I just-“ You lean forward a little, licking your lips and looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I just get a certain way about you, you know. Insatiable. Like some wanton slut.”

“So you need me to punish you? Is that it?”

“Badly.”

“If that’s what you want,” he says as he peels your hands off his shoulders. “Then that’s what you’ll get.” Before you knew it, the cuffs were around your wrists. He took care not to put them on too tightly. “That okay?”

You raise your hands, twisting them slightly to see how it felt and get familiar with these new bindings. “Fine,” you eventually say. You had to admit that it didn’t feel too bad.

“Tell me if they get uncomfortable, okay?” You nod firmly, a little bit surprised that he was still as gentle as he usually was. “Good girl.”

Eddie pulls you onto his lap and hooked your arms around his neck. He starts off slow, kissing you until you are moaning into his mouth, but it doesn't take long for his kisses to get more needy and insistent.

When his teeth nip at your bottom lip, you instinctively pull back. There was a mumbled apology, followed by another kiss. It wasn't until he did it again, that you knew that it hadn’t been an accident. If your hands had been free, you might have given the back of his head a correcting tap, but you were unable to do so now.

This was all part of the thrill, the fact that you couldn't retaliate. You were entirely at his mercy and you were sure that he could feel your arousal seeping through his jeans already.

One of Eddie's hands moves from your hips to your throat. You don't think anything of it until he suddenly pushes your head back and you can feel his teeth on your neck, closing on your skin and biting down.

"Ed-" you gasp, the brief sting of pain catching you off guard, but your body betrayed you because your hips started bucking up against him instantly. You can feel him smiling against your skin right before he applies more pressure, biting down a bit harder. "Jesus."

"That'll leave a mark," he says with clear amazement in his voice while staring at the already reddening mark that he left. "Now everybody can tell that you're taken."

"You thought that wasn't clear?"

"I've seen the way some guys look at you whenever I come pick you up from college," he replies gruffly. "Don't want anyone else looking at my girl."

"You sound jealous," you say without thinking with a slight smile playing on your lips. "You know that I don-"

You yelp when he moves your hands away from his neck and shifts you around quickly. You suddenly found yourself laying sideways on his lap, with your arms sticking out in front of you.

“You’re such a fucking tease." He flips your skirt up and smacks your ass hard. He took a second to look at how your cotton panties were stretched over your ass cheeks. Then his hand moves up, fingers hooking underneath the elastic band and tugging the material down your legs. He gives your bare skin another slap for good measure, making you moan loudly in the process. “Fuck, you like this? You like this!”

“Y-yes.” You turn your head to the side so you can answer him as he continues spanking you. “So much!”

"Christ, you really are a needy little slut, aren't you?" When he strikes you again, you find yourself moving back, chasing his hand whenever he pulls away. "You want more?"

"Please," you whine.

"Louder." He slaps you again, harder than before now. "Come on. Louder."

"Please!"

"Again."

You lose count after a while. By the time that he pauses, your ass was burning from the impact of the blows and you sincerely wonder if you would even be able to sit at all tomorrow.

Worth it.

"Wow." Eddie whistles low through his teeth. His hand touches your abused flesh gently, but it still makes you flinch and attempt to pull away for the first time since he started this. "I'm fucking impressed that you even took this much."

"A-all for you- ah." Your sentence ends in a harsh gasp, because Eddie decided to rub his fingers over a particularly sore spot. You push your hips down, in another feeble attempt to get away, only to find yourself grinding straight into his rock hard, clothed erection. "Fuck."

"Please don't," he says under his breath, but the more he touched you, the more aroused you got, to the point where your arousal practically oozed out of every pore.

The need to make it easier to endure was right underneath you, pressing into your mound, and if you managed to angle your hips just right, maybe you would be able to…

"Eddieee…" You whine his name pathetically when he stopped touching you entirely. "I need you. Please."

"No."

When you choke out a sob, he slams his hand into the mattress right next to your head to get you to stop. "Little whores who don't know how to behave don't get what they want."

"I'll behave!" There is a hint of desperation in your voice, all because you needed him so badly. You swore that you would spontaneously combust if he didn't keep touching you. "Promise."

"I don't believe you." Eddie, for his part, sounded stern and unyielding. You couldn't see his face from your current position, but you just knew that he had a wicked grin plastered all over his face. You could practically hear it in his voice. "You're just lying to me."

"I wouldn't-"

"You would." You attempt to shift in his lap, but he puts his hand in between your shoulder blades and pushes down hard. “Stop squirming, slut.”

You should have stopped. Really, you should have, but you were running on nothing but sheer animalistic desire. It was coursing through your veins like a goddamn wildfire.

You wanted him… no, needed him to do something about it, to ease the craving that was blooming deep down in your gut.

There was one prompt slap on your ass and the sound of it reverberates off the walls of the small space.

It didn’t stop you from moving though, but what Eddie would do next did.

You could feel him shifting underneath you, but you still couldn’t see what he was doing. You would soon feel it, though.

His lips touch your inflamed skin first. For a split second, you thought that it was odd, seeing how Eddie had told you off for moving before. So why would he reward you like this? By kissing you?

It wasn’t until you felt his teeth, gently at first, merely scraping, that you realized what he was really doing. His teeth sank down in your burning, pliant flesh, and he bit you.

Hard.

Hard enough to make you keen out a word that was barely distinguishable, but that was supposed to be the word “Fuck!” Instead, you only manage to get out the first two letters, practically screaming them by the end. Your fingers had tangled in the sheet, twisting your fingers into it hard enough that the fabric might rip if he kept this up.

When he lets go, you feel his tongue lazily circle the spot where his teeth had just been.

“You gonna stop moving now?”

One part of you wants to push it just a little bit more, just to see how far he would actually take this, but in a way it was in your best interest to simply stop moving. Tempting though it might be to do otherwise, you instead lay limply over his thighs. The only part of you that moved were your fingers, trembling as you released the sheets.

"Good fucking girl." His lips connect with ass quickly, where his teeth were moments earlier, and he, almost too casually, slips his hand between your thighs and slides it all the way to the top. “You really need me, huh?”

“Y-yes.” It was so hard to stop yourself from moving, your mind consumed with having him slip his fingers up your channel and fucking you with them, but somehow you managed to lay completely still. “I do, Eddie. N-need you so bad.”

“I can give you a reward,” he suggests suddenly. “I was gonna make you wait, but seeing you all desperate like this… well, a little reward wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“I-it wouldn’t.” A single finger slides between your folds, gathering the dripping wetness that had accumulated there and spreading it. You bite your bottom lip hard enough to taste a hint of iron, having inadvertently split it. “P-please, Eddie, please. Just a little reward, a tiny one, please.”

“Okay.” You gasp loudly at that, thankful that you were getting anything at all, and then you groan in displeasure when his hand moves away from your burning heat. “Just a little one, right? You agree with me?”

“Y-yes, Eddie, God please. Need your s-so m-much.”

“Alright then.”

His hands settle on your hips and he moves you off his lap a bit too roughly, in a way that was entirely in keeping with the mood that had been set from the moment that he had restrained you. Your legs hang limply off the side of the bed, on your knees, with your face pressed into the sheets that are permeated with his scent.

“Maybe I should just leave you like this, hm?” Eddie steps off the bed and nudges the back of your knee with the scuffed toe of his Reeboks. “Quite a sight. Maybe I should take a picture so I can stick it in my wallet.” You hear him kick his shoes off behind you, then the rustling of clothing, his belt being removed, only to hear him rummage around between his stuff shortly after. “Maybe share it with the guys, to show them what a filthy fucking whore my girl really is.”

“If that’s what you want…”

“If that’s what I want? Oh, that is fucking rich.” His hands are back on you again, on your shoulders, pressing you down ever so slightly. “Bet that you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He dips down further, his lips pressed to the back of your head. “I could call them right now, you know. Maybe we could take turns.”

“Eddie-“ you release a harsh breath, whimpering when he presses down on you harder. “Please-“

“Please what?” He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you back far enough so you can look at him. “Please what, bitch?”

Your eyes widen at the last word. You can feel your eyes begin to fill with tears and your bottom lip starts wobbling virtually imperceptibly, too. You can see it register all over his face when he realizes that he went too far. Instantly, he presses his forehead against you, taking in a few deep breaths until you copy him and do the same.

“Hey,” he says, softer than before, less forceful now that he almost made you cry, which was the last thing that he wanted. Having you cry from pleasure was one thing, but making you cry with his words had not been his intention. “What do you want me to do?”

“I just-“ His lips are on yours before you finish your sentence and you can feel him pour ‘I’m sorry’ straight into it. He was so horrified that he was apologizing through actions and not words. “Just need you, Eddie,” you murmur against his lips. “Just you.”

“Okay,” he says in reply. “I’m gonna keep going now, okay?” You nod. “You sure?” You nod again, determined to let him know that you’re alright. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you whisper back.

Eddie gives you one final kiss, clears his throat and then he’s back to where the two of you were earlier.

“Shame that there’s no film in my camera,” he says offhandedly. “Didn’t buy a new roll after last time.”

Your cheeks begin to burn as your mind goes back to that particular occasion.

Eddie had taken increasingly more risqué pictures of you with an old Polaroid camera that he’d bought at a pawn shop and had saved the last picture on the roll to capture the look on your face as you climaxed.

“Next time?” you ask hopefully.

“You’re gonna run out and buy a new roll of film as soon as we’re done, aren’t you?” His hands settle on your hips and you’re lifted up suddenly. Your cuffed hands settle in your stomach. “Filthy little slut.”

“M-maybe?” Eddie turns you over onto your back, your cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and he reaches down to pull your panties away from where they had tangled around your ankles. “Would that be so bad?”

“No.” He holds your panties up almost triumphantly, as if they had been a prize to be won, and sticks them in the pocket of his jeans. You wouldn’t be getting those back any time soon. “Maybe I’ll make you march down to the store the way you look now,” he grins widely as his eyes roam up and down your body. “Wearing nothing but your little black skirt and your white ruffled socks.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Eddie laughs briefly and gets on the bed, sitting on his knees right next to you. One of his hands curls around your ankle possessively.

Your eyes finally take him in as shamelessly as he had looked at you just now. His long curly hair draped over his shoulders, his bare chest with a light smattering of hair in the middle with all his tattoos on display, and then down lower to the trail of hair that disappears into his plaid boxers, more visible now because of his open jeans.

“Like what you see?” It was a question that you usually asked, but the tables were turned now. He brushes a hand over the front of his jeans, his eyelids flickering shut for a moment, to make you look down again. “You’re not getting this just yet, filthy girl. You’ve got to earn it first.”

“Tell me how.”

“Oh, what’s this? You want to play?” He pushes your thighs open wide, his large hands digging into your skin, and settles in between them. “Think that you can handle what I have planned?”

“Yes.” It’s a miracle that you can even say the word without stuttering, but you just about manage. “I want to.” You shake your head suddenly and correct yourself. “I can.”

“We’ll see about that then, won’t we?” Eddie lays down on his stomach and pushes your skirt up to uncover your pussy. “I won’t be going easy on you, just so you know.”

“W-what do you want me to do?”

“It’s easy really.” He reaches out and lazily swirls the pad of his thumb over your clit. Your hips push up into his hand automatically. “Oh no, baby, you fell down at the first hurdle. That was quick.” His hand leaves you, moving back to where it had been gripping your thigh. “That’s so disappointing.”

“W-what did I do?”

“You moved.”

“W-well,” you blurt out suddenly, not caring about how panicked and downright desperate you would sound. “Y-you hadn’t told me w-what the rules were yet-“

“And?”

“S-so,” you swallow hard as you try to salvage the situation. “That doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t?“

“No.” You crane your neck, looking down to where he was still laying between your open legs. “Doesn’t count.”

“Oh honey,” his fingers flick at your swollen clit suddenly and a loud moan escapes your lips. “I was just teasing.” You feel his hot breath first, right before he licks a stripe up your pussy. “Now don’t move. One move and I’ll stop.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise.”

“I promise,” you choke out. “Swear I won’t move, Eddie.”

“Such a good girl,” he coos. “So obedient.” He blows hot air on your wet folds, in the hopes that you’ll move, but you don’t. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” He repeats it, blowing hot air on you, but this time you feel his finger as well, pressed up against your entrance. “I know that you want to move,” you whine in reply this time. “Come on, you slutty little girl, just move.”

“N-no,” you say through gritted teeth. “I-I-“ Eddie pushes his finger in then, all too easily and you can feel your walls clench down on his digit. “Ah. A-I won’t. T-trying to be good for you,” you choke out. “S-so hard.”

His lips touch your clit, a light kiss at first, before he sucks on it hard. You want to arch your back, push your hips up into his mouth hard, but you resist, knowing full well that he didn’t want you to do that. Actually, technically speaking, that was exactly what he wanted, that was why he was trying so hard to get a response out of you, because he wanted you to fail.

You briefly wondered what Eddie would do to you if you did fail. Would he really stop like he said? Would he then throw you over his knees again, spank you some more for disobeying his rules? What would he do?

Part of you desperately wanted to know, but the part of you that wanted to obey was winning out. You screwed your eyes shut, took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, bracing yourself as you fiercely tried to hang on and tried to-

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes out against your core. “You didn’t have to-“

Your eyes fly open. You had been close. So close.

“W-what?” you sob out. “I d-didn’t move, did I?”

“No. You kept completely still.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, satisfied with yourself for having enough willpower to do as he told you, but now you were wondering why he had stopped.

Eddie pushes himself up with his arms and leans over you. His hands encircle your wrists and he - gently, carefully - lifts them up and away from your stomach.

“Why’d you do that, huh?”

His lips kiss the spots where your nails had just been and the slight sting of pain alerts you to what you had done. In your effort to keep completely and utterly still, you had dug your fingernails into your belly, the only thing that you could do, scratching yourself hard in the process and breaking the skin in places.

“I didn’t even-“

“It’s not that bad,” he says, with obvious relief in his tone, and then he goes over the marks with his tongue. “Caught you before you did some real damage.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

"Ruining things."

"Christ, seriously?" he mutters suddenly. "You didn't ruin anything."

Eddie kisses up your stomach slowly and pushes your arms up until they are resting above your head, far away from your torso in case you inadvertently injure yourself again. He drags his tongue up your breastbone, his long hair tickling your skin as he goes. He moves painstakingly slowly, but he eventually moves to the side so he can wrap his lips around your aching nipples while massaging your other breast with his hand.

The mood gradually shifted back to how they normally were between the two of you. Him taking his time and you cursing under your breath in the hopes that he would speed up.

When you feel his teeth right underneath your nipple, nipping lightly at first, you thought nothing of it. Not before he closed his mouth around it and bit down, just about hard enough to leave a mark. That was when you realized that he had lulled you into a false sense of security.

The game hadn't ended yet. Not by a long shot.

“Tell you what," Eddie put his hands on either side of your head so he could hang over you. "Since you were trying so hard for me that you hurt yourself, how about I help you out a little? To make it easier? Just this once.”

“You’d do that?“

“Course I would.” He actually looked a little bit offended that you had thought otherwise. “Besides, it’s obvious that you can’t do what I ask you.” He taps on the tip of your nose with a huge smirk. "Maybe if you weren't such a needy whore, you'd be able to do it, but hey! We tried! At least now I know that I don't have to ask you to do this again."

"M-maybe if you wer-" Eddie muffles the rest of your sentence by pressing his lips down on yours and sliding his tongue into your open mouth. He kisses you so hard that you think that he might end up bruising your lips. As soon as he releases you, you try to finish what you were trying to say, but your brain is so scrambled that you're unable to think straight. "M-maybe if y-you-"

"If I what?" He challenges you, eyebrows raised, one corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided smile. "If I wasn't so good at it? You do realize what you're telling me, right?"

"Look! I know that it's stupid-"

"That's not just stupid, it's on a completely different level of its own." You huff and he laughs in reply. "But you know, if that's what you want, I can go down on you so sloppily that you won't get anything out of it. Is that what you want?" You roll your eyes at his question, but you don't say anything. He laughs again. "Didn't think so."

Eddie's hands reach up, decisively pinning them down for a second, silently telling you not to move them. You get one more quick kiss and then Eddie slides down your body again. His hands slide down your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake wherever he touches you.

They come to a stop on your hips, which he grips tightly, ensuring that you wouldn’t even be able to move a single inch, before he dips his head down and presses his tongue between your folds, lazily moving it up and then down again.

“E-Eddie!” Since he was incapacitating you completely, you didn’t have to hold back and tried to move your hips, which you couldn't naturally. “Could you p-please-“

“Hmm?” His voice vibrates against your core and you whine loudly. It just feels so goddamn good that you want more of it. “Too slow?”

“Yes!”

“I never said that I'd make you come fast,” he says simply and then he pushes his tongue into your channel as far as it can go. He moans, deep and low at the back of his throat, at the mere taste of you, dipping his tongue in again and again. "Just let me have my fun, okay?"

Gasping and writhing from his ministrations, you arch your back, shoulders pushed back into the mattress. Your fingers stretch out, finding nothing but sheets to grab which you twist around them and start pulling. Anything that might offer the tiniest bit of relief.

When Eddie looked up, all that he saw was your tits and your hardened nipples, put on display from the way that your body was curved. If his hands had been free, that would have been the first thing that he would have grabbed. Even now, he was able to feel your stiff nubs against the palm of his hand, all from his memory.

Your legs, another part of your body that was allowed to move unhindered, started moving. You pushed the balls of your feet into the surface underneath you, your knees moving up around where Eddie was nestled between them.

Eddie growls a low, "No," and his right hand releases your hip to push your left thigh back down harshly. "Don't move."

"It's so hard," you whine. "Please, Eddie, just let me come."

"Greedy girls don't get what they want." When you try to move again, he withdraws from your cunt and you cry out when he gives you a new imprint a few inches away from the apex of your thighs by biting down on the fleshy part. "Behave."

You release the breath that you've been holding and Eddie grips your thigh hard enough for you to know that you would have bruises tomorrow. He moves his free hand to the middle of your pubic bone, applying enough pressure to ensure that your hips remain immobilized.

“Eddie,” you whine once more. The languid way that his tongue kept moving up and down was starting to drive you insane. “Need it so bad.”

He lifts his head up. “I’m giving it to you, ain’t I?”

“N-need more, Eddie,” you pant. He gives you another cursory swipe with his tongue that has your entire body burning for more. You were right at the edge, but Eddie simply kept pushing you back, stopping you from freefalling into the depths of pleasure. “Oh god. Please.”

“Hmm. I don’t know,” the insufferable shit says from between your legs. “You seem a bit ungrateful.”

“Pleasepleaseplease.” You’re practically wailing the words without pausing at all, just one continuous stream of words, not giving a single flying fuck about how futile your efforts might be. You just wanted to come. You needed it as much as you needed air. And it was right there, just within reach, as long as you managed to prove to him that you wanted it badly enough. “I’mbeggingyoupleaseple-“

The words kept tumbling from your mouth, only to be cut off by a sharp intake of air when Eddie finally, Jesus, finally gives you what you’ve been craving for God knows how long.

Lapping at you in earnest, his tongue hitting your clit with frightening precision, you finally come to pieces. Your toes curl from the blinding whitehot buzz that travels all through your body as you finally fall headfirst into such euphoria that you forget to breathe entirely.

It travels all the way from the tips of your fingers down to your toes, pulling every muscle in your body taut as a bowstring. Your lungs are practically screaming for air, tight in your chest and when you finally gasp, it sounds like you’ve been underwater for several minutes and have only just managed to claw your way back to the surface.

Your body collapses back onto the bed, every inch of tingling as the allconsuming buzz from your peak slowly ebbs away.

Eddie chuckles from between your legs, but you can’t hear him over the deafening rush of blood in your ears. His lips connect with your clit, one last kiss for now, and it is so over sensitized that your body moves on autopilot and pushes your hips back into the mattress.

“You okay?” He pokes your side as he sits up and while you don’t reply, the blissed out smile that’s plastered all over your face tells him all that he needs to know. He wipes your glistening arousal from his face with the back of his hand. “Unbe-fucking-lievable.”

You’re floating up so high that you don’t even notice that he digs the small key out of his wallet. You blink once when he stands up and finally removes his jeans.

Stretching out, you let out a lazy moan, already mentally gearing yourself up for round two.

You were going to be so incredibly wrecked by the end of the evening.

Sitting down next to you again, he reaches for your wrists. “Hey,” you breathe out with a smile. You briefly see the metal glinting in his hand, your eyes widening suddenly. “Y-you’re-“ When he opens the cuffs, you panic slightly, thinking that he wasn’t into this anymore, that Eddie had gotten annoyed with your misconduct. “W-why a-are y-“

“Shh.” He presses his finger onto your lips, effectively silencing you. “Sit up.” Helping you back up into a sitting position, he flashes you a smile and adds, “Hands behind your back.”

Still confused, you do as he asks, turning your back to him, maneuvering your hands so that they are now behind you. You hear a noise and then the restraints are back on your wrists again.

“How’s that?”

“Fine, but why did y-“

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he says under his breath. “Not too badly anyway.”

A split second later, you find yourself face down on his mattress. Your legs were still awkwardly folded underneath you, but that also meant that your bare ass was now sticking upward, your skirt only half covering you now.

His palm comes down on your sore backside again, making you yelp, and the bastard actually laughs when he hears it. Eddie grabs your legs and manhandles you until your knees are firmly planted into the mattress.

“Keep your ass in the air, baby.” Your skirt was flipped up and Eddie hissed through his teeth when he took one look at the sight before him. “Your juices are practically dripping down your thighs.” You feel his hand then, moving up from your knee until he is cupping your cunt. “Feel that?”

“Yes.” Your voice sounds muffled because your face was partly smashed into the blanket. “So wet for you, Eddie.”

“Good.” A single finger slips inside you until it can go no further and can feel his cool rings pressing up against your burning folds. Your body jolts, pulling away from the cold metal of its own volition. “You okay there?”

“Fine,” you say without thinking as you rock back and forth over his finger as you get used to the sensation. “Excellent.”

“Keep doing that,” he grunts. He adds a second finger. It was nowhere near enough, but you would take whatever you could get. “Keep fucking yourself over my fingers.”

You comply with his demand. Of course you did. Why deny him this?

You would have done anything that he had asked you. Tried to get him the damn moon if he pleased. Or, something that would be a more likely request from Eddie, move heaven and Earth to get Metallica to give him a private gig in his trailer.

All for him. It was all for him.

"That's enough." Despite saying that, Eddie never pulled his fingers away. They remained relatively motionless in the air, still close enough to your sopping cunt to tempt you, but you weren't going to risk it. "Good fucking girl," he praises. "You actually fucking listened. Even though you wanted to keep going, didn't you?"

"Yes," you whine pitifully. "Wanted to, but I wanted to be good. For you."

"Fuck. I love it." He swipes his fingers up your wet folds one time and then you can hear him suck your juices off them greedily. You can finally feel him shifting behind you. “You ready for me?”

“Y-yes.”

“I said,” he smacks your ass again. “Are you ready for me, you fucking needy whore?”

“Yes!” you cry out. A wracking sob tears through your body when you feel him spread his cock through your wetness slowly to lubricate himself. “Yes! God, I need you so bad!”

“Tell me how badly.”

“I-I-“ You stumble there momentarily, trying to think of what to say. “I need you to split me wide open with your massive cock.” And then the words just tumble out. “To fuck me so hard that I’ll be sore for days. I want to feel what you’ve done to me for at least a week and then you can do it all over again. Fucking tear me apart.”

“Wow.” Whatever reply he was expecting, that obviously hadn't been it, but Eddie sounds impressed nonetheless.

“Please, Eddie, fuck me so hard that I can’t think straight anymore.”

“I will,” he replies. “Fuck, you’re such an eager slut.”

“All for you,” you sob into the sheets. “Just for you.”

Without any warning whatsoever, he rammed himself into you with one thrust of his hips. You wail, long and loud. Your fingers stretch out from where your arms are twisted on your back, only to dig into your palms hard afterwards. Your calves lift up in response, too.

Apart from that, you are unable to respond. Eddie keeps one hand on the cuffs, pressing the chain into your skin and the other grips your hip so hard that it throbs with pain.

The minor discomfort was worth it. He was quite literally fucking you into the mattress, using you like you were some toy that had been made for his pleasure alone, determined to use you up and break you.

“Jesus,” he grunts behind you. “You fit me like a fucking glove. How are you so tight?”

If you had been able to reply, you would have, but Eddie was already doing his utmost to ensure that your brain was scrambled.

“Are you getting wetter?” Eddie barks at you as he proceeds to impale you into his cock. “Jesus fuck, you are! You like being used like this?”

“Yes!” you sob in reply. “Use me!”

“I am.” You were so wet that you could actually hear it, your wet heat enveloping him as his unrelenting pace tore you limb from limb. “I’m using you like the filthy, no good whore that you are.”

“I deserve it,” you wail back. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” He punctuates the word with a thrust that’s so hard that he pushes you up the bed with the sheer force of the impact, your cheek chafing from the fabric that drags across it. “You do.”

The harder he fucks you, the more your face gets squished against the filthy sheets. You're probably drooling all over them, adding to the collection of stains that were already littered all over his mattress.

"God yes," you cry out. "Fuck me like the filthy slut that I am." He grunts in reply, not mouthing off for a change, and you can't resist tossing more firewood into the flames. "Want you to… fuck me so hard… that everyone in Hawkins can hear that I'm your whore."

"You did not just say that." His fluid movements halt for a few seconds before he grabs back control of the situation again. He slips all the way out, the sudden loss of contact fills you with a sense of emptiness, and then he plunges straight back in again. "You did not just-“ The words come out all strangled, because your walls come bearing down on him suddenly. “Fuck.”

Your orgasm tears through you hard and fast from out of nowhere. Your cunt tries to drag him in further, deeper, greedy even now.

“Ah.” Your thighs begin to shake, trembling from the sheer force of your climax, but unable to move. “Eddie-“

His thrusts pick up speed again, fucking you straight through your blinding orgasm. His skin slaps against yours with more force than before. His pelvis hit your tailbone so hard every time that it was nothing short of miraculous that he hadn’t broken it yet.

“You’re such a- fuck. I can feel you everywhere- fuck.”

Suddenly, his fingers curl around the chain of the cuffs and he pulls back with such force that you’re lifted off of the mattress. You yelp loudly when your back connects with his heaving chest. Your head rolls back against his shoulder and you can hear his pants, moans and groans straight in your ear.

“Are you-“ he growls against your skin suddenly. “Holy… shit.”

You don’t know why he says that at first, not until you’re suddenly aware of a lot more moisture between your legs than there should be. You can feel it leaking out of you and you whine when Eddie’s rough rhythm finally stutters.

“Dammit… I can’t believe you just-“ His sentence is cut off by a roar and you can feel his cock jumping inside you as he paints your insides with streaks of cum. “Fuck.” You get a few more additional thrusts as his hips slow and still at last. “Damn.”

Eddie pulls out and you whine, your body already missing him. He releases you then and you fall face first into the filthy mattress like a discarded doll. Every muscle in your body aches, but it’s a good ache. You can feel his cum leaking out of you along with more fluid that drips down and seeps into the mattress.

“Fuck,” he says breathlessly as he drops down next to you. “Fuck,” he repeats. “Can’t believe you fucking squirted all over me.” You whimper in reply, not really capable of much else after being fucked like that. “Jesus.”

It takes ages for both of you to come down from your highs, but when your breathing has finally normalized, Eddie finally undoes the cuffs, sits back on the bed, leaning against the wall, and pulls you into his chest.

His hands rub over your arms, massaging your sore muscles, and you welcome his ministrations. You hum contentedly into his chest.

“How’s that, baby?”

“Perfect,” you sigh. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Want me to clean you up now?”

“Yes please.”

You sit up on your knees, finally able to look him in the eye, and he smiles so bashfully that it takes your breath away.

Eddie leans to the side and picks his discarded Hellfire shirt up from where he had dropped it. He folds it and then proceeds to gently rub it between your legs, making sure to wipe away whatever mess the both of you have made. Then he balls it up and throws it across the room.

The gentleness of the moment is in direct contrast with the ferocity with which he had fucked you earlier, as if that side of him has been locked away for now, hidden until the next time that he might need to tap into it.

You catch his lips with yours and when his hand reaches out to you, you pull away and out of his grasp. With a giggle, you get to your feet and Eddie watches you with clear amusement and adoration in his eyes.

Walking over to the old desk, you look into the mirror that is partially obscured by his most prized possession. He can see your fingertips dancing over the new marks that he gave you and the scratches that you gave yourself on your lower abdomen in the reflection. Suddenly, you turn to face him, eyebrows pulled up playfully and he sees you grab the hemline of your skirt as you lift it up until he can see your bare ass through the mirror.

You look over your shoulder, humming as you turn in different directions and admire his handiwork. He distinctly hears you swear under your breath and you actually sound oddly… impressed?

“Fuck, Eddie,” you finally say louder. “You really went for it.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs in reply, trying to come off as cool, but you can see the hint of worry on his face, wondering whether he took it too far. “You didn’t stop me.”

“I didn’t.” You let go of your skirt and walk back to stand at the foot of the bed. Flipping your skirt up quickly one final time, you grant him a flash of your bare pussy. His eyes move down quickly and then back up at your face as if nothing had happened. “Because that was hot as shit.”

“You think so?”

“Uh-huh.” You crawl onto the bed, on top of him, and end up straddling his thighs. “Really hot. Every time that I sit down tomorrow and feel the sweet sting whenever my ass makes contact with something, I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Shit,” he mutters. His eyes widen just a fraction and his pupils dilate, too. “Wanna do it again?”

“Maybe not right now,” you say with a smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “But later? Definitely.”

“Freaky.” Now it was his turn to sound impressed. “Fuckin’ freaky.”

“You got a problem with that?“

“Fuck no. Are you kidding me? Dream come true.” He flashes you a megawatt smile, dimples on display and all, looking mighty pleased with himself. “But okay, later.”

“Later,” you repeat. “I want you to mark me up so bad that the imprint of your hand never goes away.”

“I don’t think that it works that way, but I could definitely try.”

“Or… you know…”

“What?”

“Maybe I could get some tattoo guy to make those teeth marks of yours permanent.” Eddie almost chokes when you say that and the sudden flush of redness on his cheeks starts to spread from his neck down to his chest. “Would you like that?“

“No fucking way." He moves his hands to your behind, squeezing hard and possessively. "I don’t want some random guy to see your ass, let alone touch it.”

“Oh. Guess you’ll just have to bite me again after it fades then,” you say a little bit too cheerily. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"Nope, no problem." He tilts his head to look at you, a look on his face as if he's only just getting to know you. "And then people call me a freak."

"Do I need to remind you that you're the one that tried to take a chunk out of my ass?"

"I didn't bite that hard," he replies. But it's still enough to make him pause for a second, to think about it before saying, "I didn't, did I?" When you start laughing, he groans loudly before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. "Shut up."

"Make me."

"I'll bite you again."

"Tempting." Your finger roughly follows the outline of the spider tattoo right underneath his left clavicle. "You gonna give me a matching mark on the other cheek?"

"You are a freak." You retaliate by digging your fingernails into his skin hard enough to leave little crescent shaped indentations. "Hey! I said it with love." You crane your neck so you can look him in the eye and find him with a very serious expression on his face. "You're my freak."

"Wow. That's surprisingly sweet actually."

"You think so?"

"Yeah." You push your chin up and manage to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Wouldn't want to be anyone else's freak."

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #mar writes

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thebiggestfan1 · 3 years ago

Text

Begin again - Andrei Svechnikov

so this is inspired by a song called 'begin again' by taylor swift, those lyrics are pure gold and hit me really hard so enjoy this fic, I put my whole soul into this. i still couldn't write it the way i'd like to but in the end, i'm kind of proud of this <3

i've been thinking of making a masterlist based on taylor's album red so let me know if you'd be interested in that

the translation of the russian phrases are at the end of the story :)

word count: 2,4k

TW: a former toxic relationship, language

"No. I still don't understand why do you keep trying to make me go out with some random guy when I told you at least a hundred times to stop bringing up my love life."

It might have sounded a little bit harsher than you wanted to but you never felt comfortable talking about these things - not even with your close friends. It was a girls' night and til that moment, you enjoyed the company of your friends even as they all were more that curious about your life outside working.

But now, all of them were looking at you expectantly and the sudden attention made you feel even more anxious. The cake in front of you didn't look as delicious as in did two minutes ago.

"First, he's not some random guy. I told you, Y/N; my boyfriend has a friend that seems like the best for you. He's kind and funny and handsome as hell. He's nothing like your ex. Second, it's been 8 months since you two broke up and you haven't got over him yet, sweetie."

She's just trying to help, you told yourself. But that didn't slow down your racing heartbeat. She was your best friend, wasn't she? So why didn't she respect you enough to stop talking about this?

Your ex was what "seemed like the best for you", too. He was everything you ever wanted and needed but you were so blinded with your own happiness that you didn't even register when that changed.

What if you could turn blind once again?

"Stop this- just stop talking, all right? We talked about this. I told you I don't want any of you worrying about my private life."

"But this is what friends do. You know, I've been thinking about this a lot - about how he changed. But he changed you, too. And now you barely tell us anything. This isn't you, Y/N."

But none of them understood that as much as you tried, you couldn't forget how much he hated when you were being yourself. There were tears in your eyes and you took another bite of the cake just to do something with your hands. The delicious food tasted like ashes on your tongue.

"Can you please just leave?" Your voice sounded as broken as your heart was. Your friends looked at you, saw how ruined you really were and just awkwardly laughed it off before they all stood up to leave.

"Y/N," your best friend said, taking your hand in hers, gripping it with a surprising strenght. When she let go, there was a crumbled piece of paper in your palm.

"What-"

"That's Andrei's number. Promise me that you'll call him."

You shook your head, your eyes on the fine written numbers between the lines.

"Then just come back. What's past is past. One day, you have to get over that piece of shit and I can't stand next to you and hold your hand this whole time when you do absolutely nothing."

You followed her steps to the door with your eyes, watching as she stopped once again to look at you.

"Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself."

With that, you were left alone in your apartment that was soaked through with the memories of the man that made you hate yourself.

...

After those months, you barely noticed all that stuff in your home that didn't actually belong to you. He left behind not just your broken heart and a lot of useless things, but all those CDs with the music you secretly hated.

You began with that; you got rid of them and replaced them with your favourite ones with the songs that he kept saying he "didn't get".

And to your surprise, it made you feel good.

So you continued by putting back clothes into your wardrobe that he found too revealing for you to wear in public.

It made you remember all his mistakes and red flags and for a moment, you stopped seeking yours.

You cleaned the whole apartment and when you wanted to lay back down on the couch, your gaze shifted to the piece of paper on the table.

Andrei. Handsome, kind and funny - those were some of the best things to look for in a guy. Maybe your friends were right: you couldn't judge every single man just because one of them ruined your life.

And you hoped they were right as you typed the number into your phone and gave Andrei a chance to prove that you have been wrong the whole time.

...

The cafeteria was crowded this Wednesday and you were surprised by the fact that Andrei arrived on your date earlier than you did. He even stood up from his seat and waved at you so you would know where to go.

For a first time in eight months, you had been looking forward this moment.

When you called Andrei a few weeks ago, you didn't expect you'd enjoy talking to him as much as you did. He really was kind and you liked the way he smiled even though you couldn't really see it through the screen.

Still, you were being cautious. And Andrei understood your reasons and gave you all the space you needed before you yourself asked him out.

Since you started texting and calling each other, more and more things in your life were coming back to normal. Slowly, the person you looked at in the mirror was beginning to look like you and not some pitiful shadow that your ex left behind.

And now, you walked in the coffee shop in your favourite dress that made you feel so confident - and that he wouldn't approve - and your prettiest high heels that he forbid you to wear just because you looked taller than him when you put them on.

"Hey," you said shyly to your date as you got closer to him.

"Hey, nice to finally meet you in person and not just over the phone." Andrei smiled at you and you and you realized that his russian accent was even more noticible in real life. You even learned some basic russian phrases to impress him a bit, even as you told yourself you did so just because you were bored and had nothing to do.

"мне тоже приятно познакомиться. I hope I said that right and didn't embarrass myself or this is gonna turn awkward."

Andrei was looking at you with a puzzled expression before shaking his head and smiling at you.

"No, you said it just fine. Actually, you're the first American person who had tried to speak to me in my native language so I'd appreciate it even if you would accidentally tell me something really inappropriate."

He stood up and pulled your chair out, helping you in - not even noticing how nice that was. Your ex not even once did something like this but tonight wasn't about the past - it was about you and Andrei.

Just then you noticed the two paper cups of coffee already standing on the table, steam still rushing out of them. Andrei saw where your gaze had turned and nervously bit his lower lip.

"I had already ordered you a coffee before you arrived so I hope you don't mind. I was kinda confused about the size because I remember when all I had to do was say small, medium or large and now I had to speak Italian before having any idea of what I had just ordered."

You barked out an honest laugh that surprised not just Andrei but also you and then looked at your drink, noticing your name written on its side in a fine handwriting. The size was venti.

"As long as I'll like it, it's fine. It seems like you'll have to order me coffee more frequently so you'll actually remember what to say next time."

His cheeks flushed red at your answer and he said with a cocky grin:

"This way I'll speak fluent in Italian by the end of the month."

You took a sip, even just to give yourself some time to think about what to say next. But the taste of your favourite coffee stopped you immediately and you looked up to find Andrei giving you another one of his adorable smiles.

"How did you know-"

"I asked Sebastian on my team because he's dating your friend and she told me."

"That's so nice." you said, blinking back the tears in your eyes. Yes, you probably looked so pathetic in that moment but you couldn't explain how good it made you feel - being appreciated and not just taken for granted.

It's not like you were going to fall for this guy just because he was the first that treated you like a human being. But there was something about Andrei that made you feel like on the top of the world-

but it will be a long and painful fall back to the ground.

So you kept your distance and built the walls to your heart a little bit higher and thicker.

...

The two of you talked for hours and still it felt like only minutes. At some point, you forgot about your drink getting colder and colder with every moment.

"Stop making me so interested in you, I'm actually trying to be aloof so you think I'm cool," you said playfully after he told you about some of his favourite places in the US that he visited while being on the road trips with him team. You might have also been a little bit jealous, just the tiniest bit. In comparison to his life, you must sound like a really boring person.

Instead of answering, Andrei threw his head back laughing like a little kid and you were just staring at him, listening to the sound of his laughter.

"What?" he asked after he mastered to speak without wheezing.

"Nothing. I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause-" You stopped talking, your mind going back nearly a year ago. 'cause he never did.

He never laughed at anything you said, really. Nor did he like the way your laughter sounds or that you hung out with your male friends. Maybe he was the one insecure, not the other way around.

"Because what?"

You opened your mouth, ready to tell Andrei everything about him. But the way his eyes were focused solely on you and the way he ignored everything and everyone outside of you two...

And for the first time, what was past was past. You've been telling yourself that for weeks now but this time it was finally true.

"Because I'm not really good at telling jokes. I usually start laughing before I say the whole story and that I reveal the point of the joke before I even finish saying it happened to me more than once."

His eyes flickered with amusement and one corner of his sensual lips turned upward.

You talked about your childhoods, the dreams that never came true and the ones that did. And you were so happy when you found out that you two shared the same favourite music album - the one you had to get rid of for months, the one that blasted through your car on the way to the cafeteria.

When the coffee shop slowly started closing, Andrei paid for your order and walked with you down the block to your car. It was winter and the weather wasn't very pleasant that day but to you it looked like the brightest day of the entire month. You didn't need warmer clothes because your body heated at Andrei's every single touch, from accidental bumping of your thighs to his hand gripping yours, fingers intertwined.

"I really enjoyed today," you began as you stopped next to your car, the parking lot empty except for the two of you. Your heels dug in the snow and Andrei wrapped his arm around your shoulders as snowflakes began falling again. Christmas was getting closer and the colourful lights hanging in the streets and decorating the lamps made that moment even more memorable.

"Я тоже, моя дорогая."

"I have no idea what that means but I wish it's something sweet."

You felt his breath warming the skin on your neck, his nose nearly touching yours. You wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment; and it wasn't just because of the atmosphere.

"It's almost as sweet as you, I promise."

"Then I'll have to trust your word." And even as your past was messed up and your trust has been broken too many times, you couldn't help but trust this man. There was no other choice for you but to fall for him, though it'll take more time and work that letting him go.

Andrei kissed you on the nose while hugging you tight, his frame towering over you. Under his touch, your body became the instrument for his music and your heart was playing a wild and dangerous song.

"I want to see you again." you whispered breathlessly, noticing what his touch did to you. Your head felt lightweight, as if floating in the clouds.

"Not every day? I have to say I'm kind of disappointed that I didn't charm you enough-"

In response, you playfully hit him in the shoulder.

Andrei just laughed and then you were looking into each other's eyes again, falling quiet.

"I want to see you again, too." This time, his tone was serious. "And if I had the time, I'd love to see you everyday. But for now, you'll just have to settle for going out with me this Saturday."

"And what if I can't go out with you this Saturday?"

"Than I'll wait for the next one. Or the one after that one. Because you're worth the waiting, Y/N."

Your cheeks were red and not just because of the cold weather. It was the nicest thing you've heard this whole year and that Andrei said it made this memory even more precious for you.

So you kissed him. The taste of his lips was something you were secretly waiting for the whole afternoon and your bodies were in perfect sync, as if together they were a constellation falling into place.

And after all this time, you finally felt like yourself again.

I've been spending the last eight months

thinking all love ever does

is break and burn, and end

but on a Wednesday in a cafe

I watched it begin again

...

мне тоже приятно познакомиться - nice to meet you too

Я тоже, моя дорогая - me too, my darling

if you're interested in my work, add yourself to my tag list here!

#andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fluff #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #андрей свечников #nhl imagines #hockey fanfiction #hockey players #nhl fanfiction #nhl player x reader #hockey imagine #nhl fic #hockey #hockey fic #carolina hurricanes #carolina canes #canes

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yanderes-galore · 2 years ago

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Hi♡ what about Mysterious Rick 43 prompts? When do you plan to return madness combat? I have one idea for sanford short or concept👉👈

Oh you KNOW I have to do him with this prompt- Man's going to chip you. Pocket Mortys has been such a fun game for me.

A/N: HE WAS SO FUN TO WRITE, THANK YOU 💜 Absolute asshole man, love him.

Also, cool! I'll be sure to let you all know when I am doing Madness again.

Yandere! Mysterious Rick Prompt 43

Pairing: Romantic

"Won't you be a good pet for me?"

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Dehumanization, Power dynamic, You're treated like a pet, Slight torture/punishment, Forced relationship

The chip digs into your skin, it's painful and clearly not meant for you. Despite this the chip makes you more relaxed. Even if your genetic makeup was not meant for the device.

"There we go! I've chased you through so many dimensions just to find you. I know this device isn't meant for you, as you're not a Morty, but it'll be fine."

You flinch away when he brushes a finger against the chip on your neck. You hated how its tech dug into you, attaching to your nervous system. It sent a chemical into your brain to get you to obey him, at least that's what you understood.

"This keeps you docile and unable to run away until I remove it. Which I don't plan on anytime soon."

You give him a fearful look and shake your head.

"No, please, I need to go home-"

"Your home is with me now. According to this chip, you're registered as mine."

He teases you, ruffling your hair.

"Just look at you! You're perfect! Better than any Morty I could've caught...."

"You're insane and delusional-"

"Too bad the chip doesn't affect your speech... although-"

He grins at you, his behavior seems malicious.

"You'll listen to any command I give you. For example... follow me."

The Rick walks away from you, you stay put. Until the chip in the back of your neck blinks and buzzes. You feel pain in your neck and cry out before following Rick's movement. Anything to get the pain to stop....

"See? You're as obedient as a pet! Cute, too."

"Shut up...."

"We really need to work on your sass."

"Would you rather I use harsher words?"

"Sit."

The chip buzzes and blinks again, forcing you to your knees in front of the Rick. You groan, staying on the ground just to get the pain to stop. You hated this.

You had essentially been kidnapped, chipped with a device to make you behave, and treated as less than human. He took you everywhere. People could clearly see you weren't a Morty, yet they never commented.

"Wow, I'm going to have fun with this."

The Rick smiles at you, trying to appear as warm and welcoming. He wasn't, not with that getup and him forcing you to do tasks. You're happy he hasn't forced you to fight, at least....

"Alright. Get up and stay close. We got other dimensions to go to."

Anticipating the chip acting up, you get up on your feet and follow the Rick. You aren't that close to him, much to his annoyance.

"Closer, (Y/N)."

The chip buzzes and you're right next to him. You try to keep calm when you feel his arm around your waist, encouraging you closer.

"Can't have you getting lost, someone may take you."

You hate how close he forces you to his chest while you walk. A portal is summoned by him and he turns to you. The look in his eyes is dark and you feel him tap the chip again.

A reminder of how helpless you were.

"Won't you be a good pet for me?"

It's then he drags you through the green portal, against your will. You doubt you'll ever see your home again.... Not until he's caught by the authorities, at least.

#yandere rick and morty #yandere mysterious rick #yandere rick sanchez

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perfectionreached · 1 year ago

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when things ended between them, taissa had moved on quickly. she was away at college anyways, she could avoid coming back home as much as she wanted to. and when she did come back, it wasn't like either of them wanted to see each other. they never did talk about it. frankly, especially at the time ... taissa didn't want to. it was over with, wasn't it? if being avoidant made her feel better, she never had any issue with it. so she did what she always did - compartmentalized the moments and feelings that could place her as the one in the wrong. or as the one who wasn't perfect. if she could convince herself that misty was at fault .. that maybe if the blonde was less emotional and clingy maybe something would have worked .. for a long time that was enough for her.

she can't help but chuckle at misty asking if she's been able to restrain herself like she used to. taissa wishes she could still rely on things like that, but it always much more about van being there, rather than just the ropes, which she had quickly learned how to untie almost instantly. "right. did you think i was going to ask my wife to tie me to the bed so i don't go and escape in my sleep? no, obviously i haven't done that." it comes out a little bit harsher than she means it to, she's just frustrated. the last thing she wanted was to rehash the past and yet here she was. on both accounts. "what, do you have rope in your car?" the words leave her mouth in a pile of regret, the lack of sleep making her feel like she was losing her mind. and maybe she was.

squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she sighs. "i...." tai was under a lot of stress and it showed. all she wanted to do was return to her life. the senate race was so close. everything that she had worked for was on the line and she couldn't stand it. "it wasn't my intention to snap at you. i don't even know how long i've been sleepwalking. sammy ... he .. " she pauses, clearing her throat. the memory of what her son had been telling her seemed too fresh in her mind. him calling the other side of her the bad one. she couldn't stand the fact that she was traumatizing him without even knowing it. "he's seen her. talked to her, i'm sure." saying it out loud made her throat dry. now it felt too real.

"do you..do you want to do the bed instead?" she asks quietly, even though she knows by the tone of her voice that she wasn't asking. but it made sense, didn't it? rather than have misty watching the stairs and risk her missing taissa doing something or going somewhere .. if they were right next to each other - misty would know instantly. the other woman's hand on her arm sends a shiver down her spine and she has to hold herself back from falling apart once more, as if it was back then. "just as extra protection."

it wasn't often that taissa let herself be emotional around misty, and she's sure that was the problem. they'd have a good time hanging out, it would feel real, and then tai would push back. she'd be cold and pretend like nothing ever happened. which was never fair, but she never knew how to deal with the thought that maybe it could be something more than it was. a fear of letting herself have genuine love. she was never strong enough. eyes look down at the hand and then back up at her face, trying to muster a small smile, even if it still did look sad. all she can do afterwards is nod, not knowing how to say thank you. or even express the appreciation that the blonde deserves. "i'm surprised you aren't more mad at me." or at least outwardly.

Deep down there had been some hope that something would have formed between them. Despite that want, she knew realistically that having that want wasn't right. She knew that Taissa had just ended things with Van for several reasons ( some the blonde thought were ridiculous if she was being honest ) so she knew. She knew that there was no chance that the other woman would be looking to jump into something so soon, let alone with her. However, the months that followed after that first night, it was hard to ignore that hopefulness that continued to grow.

That hopefulness eventually shriveled up and died when she found herself on the receiving end of her calling it quits. The bitterness soon slid into place and formed roots that only thickened over time. Regardless, she still cared about the other, still wanted nothing but the best for her. So maybe that too explained why she was standing in the woman's foyer, sleep gently knocking and trying to coax her back to bed. She ignored it, focusing on Taissa while adjusting glasses that were disobedient and refused to remain pushed up on her nose. She also realized that bringing up sedatives might have been a touchy subject considering the one and only incident forever ago; the mushrooms were not entirely her fault but she wasn't going to argue the point. Again.

Deadpanned rhetorical question is asked and Misty is the one to roll her eyes at it. Head full of curls shook gently as she did so, her hand resting against her arm. If there was a drug to rid one of an alter ego, the one in question would have to admit to having one to those that didn't know. And that would mean possibly damaging her reputation, one that she had carefully crafted over the years; one that was nothing was a false telling of the woman. None of that would be voiced aloud, of course, as she didn't need to upset the other woman. Instead, a soft sigh was released as eyes fell to stare at the floor for a moment before returning to the taller woman's face. "Have you tried...restraining yourself? Like you used to do?" she asks, head tilting with a small frown settling into place.

It's bad again, that was understatement the blonde thought. "You're under a lot of stress...again...with running for senate. So I'm not all that entirely surprised you're sleepwalking again," she mused, wondering if there was another trigger that could set the whole thing in motion. Misty didn't know much about sleep disorders, but she knew that the sleepwalking was bad especially for Taissa. "I don't know if you can get rid of it, Tai...not entirely. I mean...were there any other times before now that you were sleepwalking?" She could only imagine how frustrating and quite frankly, terrifying, it was to not have complete control over yourself, to not know what would happen every time going to bed.

Misty is attempting to imagine what that frustration and fear would feel like when the other speaks, the mentioning of sleeping on the couch. She hesitates for a moment as she calculates the time to get from here back to her own home; she had the day off tomorrow so work wasn't a worry. "I can stay the night," she says after a moment, head turning to look towards the living room and the couch, "it looks comfortable enough. Though a bed will always be better." She's not pushing or prying or looking for an invitation to share the others bed. Just simply stating a fact. Her eyes return to Tai and she can see how tired she is, the vulnerability, and it softens her own features and shoulders. She takes a small step towards her, closing that distance, and places a hand on the others arm. "I'm here aren't I? You calling was enough to tell me you need help, Taissa," she murmured, eyes searching her own.

#misquigley #v. adult tai.

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violentinecrl · 3 years ago

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For all the people you've hurt

Kamilah Sayeed x Mc (Lenore)

Warning: smut at the end (also, I am not sure if that is a good ending, I got stuck there for a while but I mean I've been told it looks good like this so if you don't like it blame the people tagged below 😂)

Rating: Mature

This happens right after Mc goes after Gaius on her own on book 3, and brings him back to the group so he can help them defeat Rheya. However, Kamilah is not as calm as she was in the game... her fear of losing Mc once again gets the best of her, her walls crumbling down...

Thank you @tyrilblue for correcting my english, and thank you @neversleepgaius, @supercorpstuff and @rainbows-ampersand-sunshine for reading this cringe thing ❤️

@choicesficwriterscreations

“So listen, and listen well. This is not your redemption story. You do not get to become some hero in the last act. One good deed does not undo millennia of evil. So we will take your help. Because we need it. But when this is done, you’ll pay for your sins. For all the people you’ve hurt! Understand?!” Kamilah’s voice came out rough, harsher than Lenore had ever heard it. There was no doubt in those words.

“I do.” After a moment of hesitation Gaius answered, his voice fragile, all the anger, hatred, all the violence gone.

As Jax walked over to Gaius, ready to speak his own piece of mind, Kamilah’s eyes darted in Adrian’s direction, as one of her fingers pointed straight at the newest ally of the group, the rest of the room a simple blur to her, the words Jax was now yelling at Gaius drowned in her anger.

“Keep an eye on him! Any kind of suspicious movement and I mean any kind, you strike! I’ll have a word with her!” she said, grabbing Mc’s hand strongly enough for her to understand that Kamilah was not happy, but not strongly enough to hurt her.

And yet, Lenore was not putting them at risk, she believed in Gaius' intentions, she had to if they wanted to finally defeat Rheya. Kamilah needed to trust her just this once. His mind was… polluted, a disorganized mix of dark, evil webs hiding his own thoughts, desires, the true Gaius. That didn’t erase all of the things he’d done, it didn’t erase the sword that had trespassed her chest, taking her last human breath. And even if it didn’t, they needed his help, the real Gaius’ help. They needed his desire for revenge and the regret that now clouded his mind even if no one knew that.

As Lenore was being dragged through the bar to the small and quiet room, the only space that could give them privacy right now, all the arguments she would have to use were running through her mind directionless, confused. Kamilah’s reluctance to work with the person that had hurt her so much was understandable, but there wasn’t any other option. “He’s being honest, I saw it!” she would have to repeat, “I wouldn’t have brought him here, to you, if I wasn’t 100% sure it was safe!”

Finally, as they reached the room, Kamilah harshly opened the door, getting Lenore inside and following after, closing it as aggressively as she had opened it. It was the same room, but it felt colder than it had the night before.

Lenore focused on the other woman’s heart. It was beating fast, drumming inside of her. Had it been like that before, when she first saw Gaius entering the bar? At first, Kamilah just stood there, fists clenched, and eyes shut, trying to calm her breathing and slow her heart.

“Kamilah, listen to me! I-“

But there was no time to talk, Kamilah immediately cut her off, her voice begging for answers, her eyes searching for them.

“What were you thinking?!” she asked slowly, without breaking the distance that separated the two girls.

“Ka, he won’t hurt us, I can assure you that he is-“ she tried to say, remembering all the arguments that had crossed her mind on the way to the room.

“You don’t get it, Lenore, do you? You don’t get it…”

“I do, I do get it!” Lenore got a little closer trying to reach for Kamilah, her voice low and calm, and yet pleading for the other woman’s comprehension, “I understand that you don’t like this idea and don’t trust him, I don’t like it either, I get it, but he will help. We will kee-“

“I don’t give a shit about that! I can see he’s going to help, I’ll kill him myself if he doesn’t! But how did you get to him, Lenore?! Did he come here without any of us noticing? Did he take you with him?! Did he, Lenore?!”

Kamilah knew the answer to those questions… Lenore could see it in her eyes, in the way her mouth formed a thin line, the way Kamilah kept her hands closed in fists. And the realization hit. The problem was not bringing Gaius here to them, it was the fact that she had left, without telling anyone, to face the person that had once killed her, on her own.

“I- I had to… It had to be me. It was the perfect time, we couldn’t wait any longer. And it worked!” her head lifted, looking Kamilah in the eyes, hoping those last 3 words would make her worries cease.

But Kamilah just sighed, running her hands through her hair, eyes closing shut once again, harder than the first time as if to stop all the possible outcomes of Lenore’s actions from going through her head. The image of her dead body next to Gaius in the streets of Tokyo, without her knowing, while she slept with no clue that the next morning she would be alone again.

“But what if it hadn’t?” she said almost in a whisper, “What if it hadn’t, Lenore?!” her voice grew stronger, more desperate, eyes shooting open, pain flooding them, “You’re our only hope of defeating Rheya, and I don’t think you understand the fear that puts me through every day! Every day I fear for the moment we will face her and you’re there, in the front line! Every day I fear that I’ll have to watch you die right in front of my eyes, in my arms again and this time I won’t be able to do anything to bring you back to me! And yet you go out to fight against Gaius, on your own!”

Her eyes were now brighter as the tears started forming, dripping slowly down her face. She held herself, grabbing the sleeves of her suit hard as if trying to force the walls not to completely crumble once again, baring herself and her tears to the one she loved.

Lenore stood there, the weight of those words sinking in, her chest tight, and making it impossible for words to come out of her mouth.

“You should have told me”, continued Kamilah “I should have gone with you just to be sure you’d be safe, that I wouldn’t lose you again… I can’t lose you again, I can’t handle that feeling once again, Lenore! I have lived for 2000 years, I’ve suffered… but that feeling… that was agonizing…”

“Kamilah…” Lenore whispered more to herself than to the other woman, involving her in a tight hug. She had expected the hug not to be returned, but Kamilah’s hands traveled to her girlfriend’s back holding her tight… tighter than she had ever held her, the idea of losing her making it hard to breathe “I had to try… I was ready for it, it had to be now or never. And you forget that if I can avoid putting you in danger, I will… I know you’re strong, stronger than me, but I fear for your safety just as much as you fear for mine. I couldn’t drag you with me. I had to face him myself no matter the consequences.”

Kamilah's tears were now unashamedly falling down her face, soaking her flushed cheeks. Lenore had never seen her so vulnerable. Had she been like this when everyone thought she had died? Had Kamilah held her just as tightly when her limp, dead body rested in her arms? What about the next four days? Had she looked this beautiful crying for her to come back?

“When I saw you with him I started imagining what you had done, how you went to him alone, and all these thoughts of losing you… they just came all at once.” Kamilah swallowed her tears, bringing her face up high again, vulnerability hidden but still there, on those wet cheeks and slightly red eyes from where tears kept escaping, on the way her arms held Lenore as if she might vanish at any moment “So, no more «no matter the consequences». You listen to me girl, you do that once again, and I’m killing you myself” she said, but her eyes were kind, loving, her voice was firm but warm, her hands held Lenore tight but gently.

Lenore couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping her mouth, tears still covering her eyes “Yes, Mom. I’ll behave from now on, promise”.

Kamilah couldn’t handle not rolling her eyes at the sarcasm hidden in Lenore’s words, a little smirk forming on her lips. She was in love with a dumbass.

With her thumbs, she caressed the dark-haired girl, drying her wet cheeks gently, slowly feeling every inch of her hot and flushed skin. And that was the moment she got conscious of her own tears. She tried to reach for them, drying her cheeks as well, but Lenore stopped her, grabbing her wrists gently.

Taking her thumbs just like Kamilah had done, Lenore caressed her cheeks, tracing the path where the tears had flowed.

“You look pretty when you cry, did you know that?” she whispered, as she hid her face in the crook of Kamilah’s neck, breathing deeply, taking in all her sweet scent, her vampire senses making it even sweeter.

“If this is your way of escaping the subject, I have to warn you, you picked the wrong thing to say” even though Kamilah’s voice was serious, Lenore could feel how unexpected it had been for her to hear that, how her heart started beating faster. Not only had she seen those barriers crumble once again, with desperate tears, but she had found it pretty.

“Is it not working?” she teased, hand traveling from Kamilah’s cheeks to the back of her head, feeling her body tensing, as Lenore slid her fingers through her dark brown hair, getting their bodies closer.

“You w- “

Lenore didn’t let the older vampire finish, trailing her lips over Kamilah’s, ever so slightly, kissing her bottom lip once the words had gotten lost on her tongue.

“Trying a different escape route?” Kamilah asked, her voice so low only a vampire’s ears could catch the sound, her breath getting heavier, her lips trying to get closer to Lenore’s who smiled at the question, nodding, and teasingly pulling away.

Kamilah’s eyes flashed at the movement, hands grabbing her lover’s waist, pulling her impossibly close, her lips hovering over Lenore’s.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, girl” she whispered, her voice hoarse, all the emotion, fear, and adrenaline that she had gone through mixing up with the desire that was now lighting inside of her.

Hearing that, Lenore crashed their lips together, parting Kamilah’s, allowing her tongue to slide inside. Only that touch turned their heartbeat unsteady, uncontrolled, their breath caught in their throats. Their mouths hot and demanding, the kisses getting more and more feverish. The younger vampire’s hands were now all over the place, one of them grasping Kamilah’s hair hard, making a low groan escape through kisses, the other one trying to get rid of the blazer, get it away from the skin she so wanted to touch.

But a quick hand stopped Lenore from removing it completely, letting it hang on Kamilah’s arm, who was shaking her head disapprovingly.

“No, Lenore” Kamilah smirked at her and approached the girl, murmuring low in her ear “Get naked, now”.

That was enough to send a spike of electricity running from Lenore’s spine to her core, fire starting to burn deep down inside of her. Clumsy, she obeyed, taking her black dress off a little too fast for her own liking, but the desire was building just too fast for her to keep up, her eyes never leaving Kamilah’s. Those deep brown eyes followed her every movement, with unspoken desire, hungry as they always were for Lenore.

Finally, her bare body was in display for Kamilah to take in. The woman got closer taking one hand to Lenore’s hip, pushing her closer, leaning her head down to kiss her softly, teasingly. Then, suddenly, she pushed Lenore down on the bed, biting hard on her lower lip, trying to contain the yearning burning inside of her, trying not to devour ever single bit of that pale, white skin, calling for her. She ignored how her thighs started to tense, trying to press on each other to contain the powerful aching building up between them.

“Lay down” she demanded, walking slowly towards the bed, her eyes taking in every single inch of Lenore’s body bathed by the white light of the moon entering from the small window behind the bed “and spread your legs wide for me”.

Lenore gasped at the command, trying hard to spread her legs before Kamilah’s eyes but the desire was way too big, the need for friction screaming inside of her. Laying down, the vampire took one hand to her nipple pressing hard, moaning at the sensation, wishing it was Kamilah’s hand.

In front of her, Kamilah started undressing, not looking at what she was doing, but instead staring at the hand pressed against Lenore’s breast, how it started caressing the rest of her own body, wandering through the middle of her breasts, the length of her stomach, getting too close to where Lenore wanted Kamilah.

“Stop” Kamilah said as she slipped out of the last piece of clothing, head tilted to the side, breath becoming erratic.

Lenore groaned in frustration at the command, her legs starting to get closer, as the tension became unbearable “Please, Ka” she begged, brows furrowing, hands pulling on her skin, trying to get any kind of friction she could.

Kamilah smiled mischievously, getting in the bed, hands on either side of Lenore’s head, and one leg teasingly pressing at her core. Lenore’s hips bucked at the contact, starting to rub herself against it, a cry surging from deep within her “Kamilah…”.

The older vampire took her lips just under her ear, starting to trail kisses down her neck, biting and licking her, her hand pinching the hard nipple under her, grabbing the whole breast, while her leg kept pressing against Lenore.

She wanted to keep teasing the girl under her, to hear the sounds of frustration and desire as she rubbed against her, but the idea of tasting Lenore, after all the worry she had gone through that day was almost irresistible. She wanted to touch her, make her scream and beg for more.

Kamilah took her leg from the middle of Lenore’s, who sucked in a heavy breath at the lack of contact “no…“. Lowering herself over Lenore, Kamilah started kissing along the valley of her breasts, hands roaming lower now, pressing her nails down her hips.

“What do you want, Lenore?” She asked looking up, spreading the girl’s legs wider apart, hands moving to her inner thighs, drawing small circles, slightly scratching her pale skin.

Lenore felt her breath quicken as the anticipation built up inside her, making it hard to speak “touch me…”.

Kamilah smiled “what did you say?” she asked, as her mouth left small kisses at the very top of Lenore’s thighs, so close to where she wanted to be, making the girl bulk her hips up, despair starting to build up.

“Please!” Lenore almost screamed, taking her hands to Kamilah’s hair, grabbing hard, begging for the contact “please, Ka…”

“Good girl” with a smirk Kamilah gave in. Leaving one last bite at her tight, the woman moved, grabbing Lenore’s hips, kissing her right at her core, brushing her tongue up and down her wet folds, tasting her.

As she felt Lenore’s wetness grow, the feeling of herself dripping for Lenore became too intense. The way the girl looked at her in between moans, the way her hand grabbed her hair hard sent sparks of electricity through her body, moans being muffled between Lenore’s thighs.

Kamilah kept tonguing her, slowly, low noises escaping her throat, Lenore bucking her hips against her mouth, her hand still on her brown hair keeping her head in place as she kept screaming Kamilah's name.

“Are you enjoying it, Lenore?”

“Ye-“ Lenore moaned loudly, not being able to finish answering, as Kamilah took her lips to her clit, sucking hard, pressing two fingers at her entering and sliding them inside. Feeling Lenore tighten around her fingers, she inserted one more, speeding up her pace.

“Don’t make a mess, babe, what will they think of you if they see the mess you did?” Kamilah teased, barely taking her lips off her center.

“W-what if I do?” Her voice was a mere murmur, hoarse, as Lenore looked down at Kamilah, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. Her face was flushed, mouth open, eyes rolling back as Kamliah thrusted her fingers harder inside her.

All of the blood in Kamilah’s brain rushed directly to between her thighs, as she heard the provocation. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’mma fuck you so hard you won’t walk for the next week, love” she said, using her thumb to circle Lenore’s nub as her fingers curled inside of her. Her free hand traveled down her chest, to her belly and then lower. Keeping a perfect rhythm, her tongue lapping effortlessly against Lenore, Kamilah started working on herself, feeling how wet she was for the girl trembling under her, her fingers dripping with the evidence. Her back arched against the pleasure surging through her, moans leaving her lips, as she circled her own clit, rubbing faster and faster.

“Kamilah…” hearing her name the woman peaked, facing Lenore, never slowing her pace. Seeing her rosy face, the way Lenore breathed forced her to speed up her fingers, hips moving in rhythm, her legs starting to tremble. The anger and fear she had felt before, all turning into adrenaline as her body gave in to the sensations she couldn’t keep in any longer.

“I wanna see…”

Kamilah’s hips bucked up at the request, the idea of displaying herself to Lenore making it impossible to control herself. The woman could feel herself blush, her hand creating more friction against her core.

“no, you didn’t come yet…” kamilah whispered, because it was true, but also because the idea of Lenore looking at her while she played with herself… that was another level of vulnerability, it made butterflies come to her stomach, the aching between her thighs becoming even stronger.

“Please” the other woman mumbled, leaning on her elbows.

Kamilah eyed her, biting her lip. Slowly, the vampire moved, laying her back on some pillows, parting, shyly, her legs wide.

In front of her, Lenore’s chest was rising and falling faster, her nipples hard, cheeks flushed. Just the idea of what she was about to watch made all of her body tingle and ache, making controlling herself harder and harder by the time.

---

“I love you, Kamilah. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, I hope you know that”.

Kamilah's breath caught in her chest. Hearing those words was never going to stop making her body go tense, her mind spiral, and her heart race like it couldn't spread enough blood through her whole body. She had heard those same 3 words so many times through her 2000 years of living, but Lenore’s… hers had power, felt magical, they would trap Kamilah in her own paradise, anytime, anywhere.

“I love you too, Lenore. I love you”

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #choices kamilah #choices kamilah sayeed #bloodbound #choices bloodbound #choices stories you play #bloodbound kamilah #bloodbound kamilah sayeed #kamilah sayeed fanfic #choices #choices fanfic #choices bb #choices lis #playchoices #gaius augustine #bb kamilah

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a-mended-pact · 3 years ago

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Let the Right One In

A/N: So this is for @boldlyvoid 's challenge. I had so much fun writing this. Even though I'm still super anxious about posting my stories. It's been a pleasure and an honor getting to know you Em. Congratulations on reaching 2k! 🖤

Warning: Mentions of insecurities. Maeve Donovan. Faking a death.

Word count: 2,082

It was midday when I heard knocking on the front door. I was half tempted not to answer. Spencer was away on a case and neither him nor I were expecting anyone. Anyone that would come over at all was away on the case with him or states over. So who could be coming over unannounced? I clumsily headed towards the door. My fuzzy socks are making it difficult to stay balanced on the hardwood floor. A knock came again. It was gentler this time.

I looked through the peephole and saw a small woman looking around nervously leaning from foot to foot. “Who is it?” I wondered if I could at least get a name.

“I’m here to see Doctor Spencer Reid. I got his address from Aaron Hotchner.”

My face blanched at the sound of Hotch’s name. It had been quite some time since anyone had mentioned him. After he went into protective custody with Jack even though the reaper was dead he still chose to stay away. Contact with him was rare and slim. I quickly opened the door and watched her jump back slightly.

“Who are you?” she asked. She looked around the same age as him. She is actually quite beautiful. I wonder how Spencer knows her?

“ I’m Y/n Reid.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied me.

“I didn’t realize Spencer had a sister.” She finally met my gaze and smiled.

“Is he here or do I need to come back at another time?” A small laugh escaped me

“No, I am not his sister. I am his wife.” I crossed my arms over my chest and locked my foot in place behind the door keeping it only slightly ajar not letting her see into our home.

Her face shifted to one of slight surprise. “Oh well I better just go then.” She went to turn away. When a thought crossed my mind.

“Wait, I can call him if you’d like and let him know you are looking for him. What’s your name?” I was wondering whether this was a good idea or not to even call him but i had already offered and i am already in far too deep to turn back now.

She stopped not turning to face me again. “My name is Maeve. Maeve Donovan.”

Maeve. Why did I know that name? Why is my brain going off with alarm bells? But why do I know that name? I watched as she vanished from the hallway down the flight of stairs never turning back around to look at me.

I slammed the door shut as I racked my brain on if I should mention this to Spencer at all. Especially while he is away on a case. Maybe I should wait until he gets home. He should be home later tonight. At least if the weather was alright over in New Hampshire. He had left me a message earlier this morning to let me know the case was solved and it had started snowing there but their flight wouldn’t be ready till a little later.

He should be home in about an hour now. I will wait. I’ll definitely wait.

When Spencer walked through the door he looked sluggish and about ready to just collapse. The exhaustion clearly got to him from not getting enough sleep while he was away. He took off his satchel and his suit jacket. He began undoing his tie as he walked his way into our bedroom. Not even making eye contact with me.

He came back out moments later in nothing but his flannel sweatpants. “Sorry I know I should have said hello to you. I just felt like I was suffocating in my clothes today.” As he spoke he made his way to the couch where I sat at one end.

Once he sat down he leaned down and put his head in my lap. I gently started running my fingers through his hair while scratching his head.

“That feels really nice.” His voice was soft and he let out a quiet sigh as he relaxed into the couch and my lap.

If I wasn’t petting his head I was gently caressing his back with my fingertips. I know I needed to tell him. I was just so nervous. I knew somewhere deep down this would be stressful to him. The day already has worn him out so completely. It was like he needed my touch to recharge himself. I began biting my lip as my hand stopped on his lower back.

“Hey, Spence, A woman came by to see you today. She said she got your address from Aaron.” He made a humming noise to let me know that he heard me. “Her name was Maeve Donovan.” I felt his back muscles tense at the sound of her name. He sat up immediately.

“Wh- what did you say?” He looked at me as if I had just grown an extra head or as if I had just spoken another language. “Mae-” He cut me off. “No, I heard what you said. I don’t need you to repeat yourself. It’s not possible she was at the door. She is dead. She’s been dead for years.”

He pushed himself up off the couch, the muscles in his arms flexing more than usual. He was more tense than I have seen him in a long time. The last time I saw him this upset or stressed was when he first came back from prison. We were just dating back then.

“I am going to go call Hotch.” he moved quickly to grab his phone when he finally reached it. It began to ring. He looked at it for a couple of seconds before he answered.

“Hello?” His eyes widened slightly. I watched as he clenched his jaw and tears brimmed his eyes.

“M-m-maeve?” He leaned himself back against the wall. His breathing became irregular as he slid himself down the cold panel. At the same time I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes.

I sucked in a breath and sighed. Was this going to be the end of us? Now that all the stories Spencer told me of her came back once he said that she was dead.

She was his first love after all. It would only make sense right?

====Spencer’s Pov=====

My vision was blurred beyond recognition. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears as the sound of her voice drifted in and out. This isn’t real. It’s not possible. I watched her die. I saw her. She was pronounced dead at the scene. I mourned her. It’s been years. Nearly a decade.

“Spencer? Can you hear me?” I felt my tears stream down my face, nodding as if she could see me.

“Yeah, Yeah I can hear you.” My voice cracked as I answered her.

“Just like old times huh? It’s so nice to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” My breath hitched at her words.

I felt my heart hammer in my chest. I glanced up to see if I could find my wife. She was watching me with concern but otherwise she hadn’t moved not yet. All the guards Y/n had torn down throughout the years started building themselves up higher and higher.

"H-how are you alive? I watched you die." The horrible memories of that fatal day still haunted me. What am I supposed to do now?

Do I still have feelings for her? Is it wrong if I do? I don't know how to handle this. What should I do?

"That's why I came to see you earlier. It was an idea that I came up with at the last minute. So I faked my death." Her voice was calmer than my breathing. I felt the walls Barricading around me to keep me safe. I was suffocating.

I wasn't sure I had heard her right. I could feel my ears ringing as the blood in me ran cold.

"You faked your death and made me believe for a decade that the first person I ever loved died a brutal death because you wanted a new life?" My tone was harsher than I anticipated.

I felt my wife's hands run through my hair in a comforting manner as she lowered herself to the floor with me.

I glanced at Y/n as tears streamed down my face. The memories of Maeve and my feelings for her wreaking havoc on my heart.

"Darling, I think you should hang up. For now anyway." She whispered it as her hand lowered to the back of my neck giving me a gentle message.

My back stiffened. I was so caught up in my own nightmare I hadn't realized that this is probably a living one for her.

"Spencer. I can expla-" I cut off the call before she could even finish her sentence. Y/n was right.

"You have a lot you need to process and I'm sure you didn't want to say anything you would regret. I'm sorry if I've overstepped." She looked a little nervous as if I was gonna snap at her the way I had Maeve

I gently grabbed the hand that was touching me and brought it up to my lips placing a kiss on it.

"Nonsense. You are my wife. You were right. I should have hung up. I just. I don't know how to explain what I was feeling." I could feel my breathing begin to slow slightly as I tried to match her breathing to get mine back to normal.

It was like my world paused for a moment and began to spiral faster than I could catch my balance. I felt air fill my lungs when I heard her voice but yet I was left gasping for oxygen.

The very thought of Maeve brought back so many things I thought I had dealt with prior to now. I leaned my head against my wife's shoulder as I just let the tears fall.

I felt awful having her comfort me over another woman. Yet I couldn't bring myself to completely care. She was the one offering me comfort.

She held me in her arms. Whispering to me that things will be okay. That we'd figure things out.

I truly didn't deserve her. She loves me so unconditionally it's unnerving. That's when my phone went off again.

It was the same number Maeve had called me from.

I glanced at my wife. Who just watched me. That's when I fully knew and decided something that had been bothering me for over the past hour or so.

I let my phone continue to ring as I cupped her face.

"You...you make me feel special and good and all these things that I still don't have the words for yet— good things… things I never thought I deserved to feel.” I pulled her in closer letting our lips caress one another.

"I love you Spencer. You don't need to say all of this right now. I know you are still-" She tilted her head to the side as if she were trying to figure me out. "Cluttered and that's okay."

I kissed her harder than I've ever kissed anyone before.

"I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with you”

I have no real idea on if she needed this reassurance all I knew is that I did. I wanted her to know out loud what she meant to me. I couldn't imagine a better partner. A better lover or a better best friend than her.

I wasn't going to have her doubt everything about us. Not for anything.

I stayed close to her as my phone kept repeatedly going off until eventually it stopped. I was still figuring things out.

Knowing that Maeve was alive before I met Y/n would have changed my life completely but now? I didn't want anything to change. For once I was happy. I had someone in my life who put me first. Who cared about me. Who wasn't afraid to hurt my feelings as long as it kept me safe. She loved me for me and all the mess in between who I have yet to become.

She saw me for me. I wasn't Doctor Spencer Reid. I wasn't a federal agent or a professor to her. I was just Spencer. The man for some ungodly reason she chose to love.

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