#neither of them are going to comment on how denys remembers saying that

[hearties-circus]

Two cunts who are Neveeer gonna sort out their issues like hooo boy

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Noble! Scaramouche x GN! Reader (Arranged Marriage)

A/N: hey look first post!!!! this blog is basically just a place to dump my thoughts on yanderes and situations w them// if you’re not comfortable w that, please leave!!! this is not the place for you

GN reader but!!! the word “bride” is used once so do w that what you will .

remember, this is a mature blog !!! don’t like don’t read!!!!!!!!

warning(s): male! yandere, toxic relationships, slightly narcissistic yandere, verbal abuse, child neglect, arranged marriage, toxic behavior, bad parenting skills, loneliness, obsession, yandere scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warningetc. etc.

Synopsis: there’s this specific scenario ive been thinking of lately : an enemies to lovers, but with a yandere that is particularly bitter and hasn’t really experienced an unconditional love before but then his initial hatred of you turns into an obsession. I thought scara was perfect for it :)

—————————

neither of you had wanted to get married; you, the child of the last bloodline of a falling noble family, and scaramouche, heir to one of the wealthiest and most prestigious names in the empire, would have never been pushed to marry under normal circumstances. it could only be assumed that fate had revealed its hand and placed its destiny upon you.

you had never even met the young man that society had branded as ruthlessly curt with a lash-like tongue. you had never expected to, considering how far apart you were, in different circles and in different worlds

he was the duchess’ nephew and only heir, and was untouchable in both stature and power. in contrast, your family name was declining rapidly. you knew why your mother and father had accepted the marriage proposal the day it came, and you knew why they decided not to tell you until the letter in reply had already been sent. you had no say in the matter

how your parents arranged a marriage between the two of you? well, you could certainly guess; noble ladies gossiped and gasped about the young man who was rich with a handsome face, but with an incredibly arrogant personality and a razor tongue that both reflected his wit and endless scorn. you thought that the rumors must have been over exaggerated, as they always were, but for the duchess to have to reach out to your family to find a spouse for her son? had all the other contestants being rejected, and now they were picking through the scraps that were left? or perhaps, had they rejected him?

now, you weren’t so sure

even then, some part of you had never thought they would agree to something like this; they had concluded that this was what was best for you, had even told you that you will live a much happier life if you were in a household that wasn’t always on the edge of crumbling and giving way to time; you could see that they did have the best of intentions. and still, you felt betrayed

unbeknownst to you, at the time, your fiancé had felt the same way toward his mother; the expression of his feelings on the matter, however, included a lot more yelling and rage in his questions as to why he was being dragged into this. he was used to being disappointed, but being so blatantly used?

unfortunately, scaramouche’s defiance was only met with a cold silence and a blank stare, and after he had vehemently denied to go along with the marriage, his mother had only said that nothing could be done. he had no choice in the matter.

and the gentle glint in her eyes, that had still remained their after all these years, that stayed as she firmly reprimanded him, only served to make him more furious.

and so, his resentment for you, the other victim in this situation, came naturally.

when he met you for the first time, his regularly crass and sarcastic attitude only got worse. you could see the embarrassment dawn on both your parents’ and his mother’s faces, cringing every time his voice got a little too loud or when he said something particularly blunt. he made snide comments on your upbringing, your title, even your clothing wasn’t spared the ruthless bite of his words. between his curt and cold attitude and your futile attempts at making conversation, you two didn’t exactly hit it off when you first met

and then, when you finally got sick of it and told him what exactly you thought of his words and his money and where he could shove them, his resentment turned into something much more personal: spite.

he reasoned that he had every right to hate you. to be overly rude and childish whenever you so much as got the idea to be five feet near him. he never asked for the marriage. he doesn’t care about how much it would benefit the two of you, and he’s long past trying to finally please his mother into loving him, so why should he have to act like the perfect husband for someone who is below him?

your parents seemed to love you plenty though. if their guilty eyes and shifty glances were anything to go by. even if they were shamelessly grabbing at the wealth and prestige of another family, he could tell that this marriage was meant for you and your future. even if you didn’t want it. even if you seemed to dread it. every time they brought you over for a scheduled date in the lonely garden at the back of the duchess’s estate, there seemed to be a subtle pain in their eyes.

perhaps, a paternal regret at having to make their child miserable so that they could eventually have the things they weren’t able to give them.

…well, it gave him more reason to torment you.

————————

there seemed to be no way out of the awkward meetings. your parents were hell bent on having scaramouche as your husband, and his mother was just as determined. so, when you did have to suffer through seeing each other, you kept trading thinly veiled insults, practically sulking every time you heard the others name, and bickering with the each other at every opportunity. it became a familiar routine for the two of you, to not get along and verbalize your frustrations through jabs and taunts

strangely enough, scaramouche grew fond of the bickering. you were practically the only person who would speak to him so casually. with so little respect and without fear of him blowing up. he thought it was refreshing. no one hardly ever talked to him anymore, and even a child that had everything and more could not curb his own loneliness by himself…he would never tell you that, though.

he thought that at least it was entertaining to tease you. actually, if you weren’t so annoying, he might have actually gone as far to say it’s pleasant having you in his company. It certainly beats the large, lonely house he had to wander every day.

plus, when was the last time he had talked this much? when someone had looked at him and acknowledged his existence without him having to work for it?

—————————

as the engagement progressed, you two ended up spending hours together every week, whether you wanted to or not, and while you were mentally and emotionally exhausted from the stress your parents were putting you through, he’s looking forward to your meetings like they’re the highlight of his week…it’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and oh god now he can’t get you out of his head.

then suddenly, you’re calling it off. the whole engagement. miraculously, you guilted your parents into going back on what they had agreed to.

his mother is appalled and frustrated, a bit exasperated now that she has to find another suitable bride for her son.

scaramouche is beyond furious.

he goes quiet with rage. he’s more snappish now, towards the maids, towards everyone. his attitude is no longer his usual arrogance and crudeness. his usual bitterness rose into an explosive temper and ruthless training just to keep himself confined to a state of sanity. there is, once again, for the first time in many, many years, an unmistakable fear of abandonment that is raging in his head. he feels so wronged.

and it’s your fault.

and then, he goes silent. if they thought it was bad when he talked, see what they think when he’s quiet.

for his mother, it’s unnerving. to the servants, it’s downright terrifying.

no one realizes that he’s calculating. no one really expects it. everyone assumed this was one big temper tantrum after suffering a huge blow to his pride.

scaramouche was really only clutching his shattered heart after giving it to someone who threw it away.

—————————

what he wants at first is revenge.

that’s what he wants to think he wants. he wants to make things even between the two of you; make you suffer like you made him. force his way into your mind in the worst way possible, and keep himself there to get the message across.

for the first few agonizing days after the annulment, he thinks; maybe that he should tamper with your parents businesses and make you a pauper, someone who is reduced to having to take care of their parents after you fall from the graces of society. and then, after that, he’s hoping you’d come crawling back to him, and ask for his help and his hand. and he’d oh-so graciously accept you back into his life; not before making you beg for it, though.

then again, perhaps toying with whatever lover you have would be a good way to get back at you. he just assumes that you have one, because you must, for you to just abandon him like that.

you should have just stayed.

either way, he’s going to make you regret it.

—————————

it doesn’t take much for scaramouche to convince his mother to have a much needed talk with your parents.

and despite everything she’s done, ei does want to make her son happy. she wasn’t blind after all; he’s always seemed to be on edge, ever since the accident, but he had changed in the short amount of time he had know you. the boy she had failed to raise and care for, someone who was now so far out of her reach, seemed to be more calm and content when you were by his side. it had been a long time since she had seen her nephew look forward to something this much.

whether you want the engagement or not matters less to her.

—————————

and so, your resistance all comes apart so easily. Ei is one of the most powerful people in the empire, so it doesn’t take much effort before she’s luring your parents into throwing you back to them and into scaramouche’s waiting arms. It would be the least she could do as his mother

it’s only a matter of time before you’re resting in the palm of his hand once again; the engagement is back on, running smoothly towards your fast approaching wedding, like your little rebellious mishap never even happened

scaramouche is reveling in it. he feels as though he’s won. and in truth, he has. he imagines the look on your face, how you’ll have to greet him eventually, look him in the eyes after tossing him to the side and then losing, and thinks about how he’s going to make your reunion as painful as possible when you do meet again

his wishes are fulfilled when not even a month later are you pushed into the expansive garden by servants and abandoned by them even quicker, watching them scurry away with pale but oddly relieved faces. once again, you were meant to suffer through another lunch date after you thought you had finally escaped and left the gloomy estate behind forever.

the familiar stone pathway and expansive flora only served to bring back bad memories of your failed attempt to gain your freedom and reminded you of what you would have to look forward to for the rest of your life. it’s only the scuffle of boots against the ground that brought you back to reality.

you knew exactly who was standing behind you.

—————————

when scaramouche saw you standing there, muscles taught and shoulders tensed as you refused to look at him, he took his time observing you, savoring the moment and committing it to memory.

his slow and deliberate footsteps did little to calm your fraying nerves. You were both surrounded by tall hedges and the gentle sound of water coming from nearby fountains. no one else was around. You were completely isolated, with only your fiancé- no, your crazed future husband- keeping you company.

and as always, his presence was suffocating.

“you know, trying to run away from me was cute, but it got annoying after the joke was over. did you really think you could go against a duchy? don’t make me laugh.” his voice had a high and condescending lit to it that seemed to grate against your ears. your stony facade crumbled soon after, instantly revealing the confusion and panic that welled in your chest.

“…why did you do it?” your voice came out hoarse and low. you whirled around, finally looking into those violet eyes. scaramouche felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine as your watery gaze met his.

“you hated this engagement just as much as I did. why did you drag me back here? we both could’ve been free.” a bitter laugh escaped your throat that pathetically choked off into a sob.

he laughed lowly as his head titled down, shielding his eyes from you. the sight made you shudder involuntarily.

“‘drag you back?’ deary, you belong to me. you did the moment I decided I wanted you. what you want doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know what’s good for yourself, clearly.”

when he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, he was smiling. the soft turn of his lips wasn’t full of cruelty or malice, scorn or hatred, and somehow that made the uncharacteristically gentle look so, so much worse.

scaramouche picked up your limp hand, gently turning it over, and slipped a ring onto it. it was like putting a heavy shackle on a caged bird; it was needless and unnecessary, you were already trapped. the world did not need anything else but the duchess’s final word to let everyone know who you belonged to.

but, as you stood there staring blankly ahead, you noticed scaramouche seemed genuinely happy to see the band resting on your finger.

the smile he wore turned more playful, more mocking, as those piercing eyes looked at you as if you were pitiful and small, beneath him, something that needed guidance

and his purple eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulled you to him and brought you into a soft kiss.

—————————

“Give me your love. Give me your validation. Hand yourself over to me, body, mind, and soul.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Darling, do you think you have a choice?”

[ferrstappen]

hi!!! could you write something about max and reader dating and its winter break and reader gets sick. basically its just cute fluff of max taking care of her. thank you <333

this is great because its cold af (where I live) and I'm sick (both physically and mentally <3)

chicken soup l Max Verstappen blurb

You denied it.

Your brain tried denying the swelling of your throat, the heaviness of your limbs, the dizziness.

It made sense after visiting Max's family during winter break; one of the kids was sick, which meant Victoria woke up with a runny nose, Sophie with a headache, telling you and Max to go back home a bit earlier since neither Max nor you had any symptoms.

If only... the moment the small plane landed in Nice, your legs carried you to the tiny restroom, emptying your stomach, your head was spinning so bad you didn't notice Max holding your hair and rubbing circles on your back. at least, the best he could on the restricted space.

It didn't take two seconds when his phone vibrated, his sister letting him know the kids were now nauseous and dizzy.

No shit.

Max drove slower than usual, not wanting the bumps on the road to upset your head or stomach, constantly turning his head to see your eyes closed, breathing not so smoothly.

In his head, he made a plan for everything he'd do once they got home: ask if you wanted to take a shower, helping you change, choosing the best pajamas, defrosting some chicken so he could make you soup, remembering if any of you had bought some chamomile tea.

That's exactly what he did. You probably weren't aware you leaned on Max after getting out of the car, your body touching the bed and falling asleep in minutes.

It was dark when you woke up, head still pounding, forehead still warm, throat still closed, but the smell of soup was enough to drag your feet from the bedroom to the kitchen.

It was empty, no sight of Max, but a tray was already arranged with a bowl and his not-so-secret mix of green tea, honey and lemon, just a couple of teaspoons he always said, so the lemon wouldn't be too harsh, just enough to soothe the pain.

You could cry from the sight of everything Max did in a short amount of time, now you were realizing you weren't wearing the jeans and cardigan, but fluffy white pajama pants and oversized, navy blue Red Bull hoodie with his scent.

Then, you heard his voice. He was speaking with someone else, probably streaming or something, but the need to thank him was enough to open the door and carefully walking towards his seat, making sure to not show on the camera frame.

Pssst.

His head turned around and his eyes softened, arms reached for you instantly, making space so you could seat on his lap, your legs dangling over his legs and your face hidden on his face.

user1: i am so soft for them like... she is wearing red bull merch and he instantly reached out for her

user2: does he realize he's muted but still streaming???

user3: HE IS PLACING HER HAIR UNDER HER EAR I AM SO DONE WHEN IS IT MY TURN?????!!!!

"How are you feeling, schatz?" Max placed his hand on your forehead, forehead wrinkling after noticing it was still warm.

"I'm better, but you are definitely getting sick as well," You replied and Max laughed, body slightly shivering from the feeling of your breath on his neck.

"Good thing there's soup for both of us," Max kissed the top of your hair, telling you he was going to say goodbye and end the stream.

He didn't pay attention to the comments or anything, just unmuting himself and saying goodbye, carrying you to the bedroom and placing you on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before going to the kitchen.

"No, stay here," you told him, almost sounding like a toddler, even stretching your arms so he'd join you. "We can have soup later, when after your stomach starts feeling funny"

Max found his usual spot on the bed, letting his body cover yours from behind, trying to keep you as warm as possible, tightly gripping the duvet, noticing the little hairs standing up with the familiar feeling of his breathing on your neck.

He was definitely getting sick, but it'd be worth it.

[greenqueenhightower]

hi again! and i’m sorry if i sounded rude i didn’t mean to!

yes i was talking about ep 9!

but if you say that it isn’t manipulation why then rhaenyra and criston’s relationship is considered that? especially when they have sex? is a bit hypocritical no? because if it is then alicent has MUCH more power play in their situation:

1. he is her employee

2. she is THE QUEEN

so it still counts as manipulation simply because she knows what to do with her power in this scenario and she KNOWS he would do anything because he is dutiful but at the same time he will be the first to not listen to her as many times is shown (when he kills the guy in the council out of the blue or when she ASKS for him to take lucerys eye which she never asked for violence but when she does he doesn’t do it).

but is just my opinion saying this from a female standpoint and seeing alicent more of a player in this situation because you say he is her only ally, but is the ally she can play and say what he needs to do. In a way otto and larys are a mean to an end, because what they show is rooted in violence and greed and we can’t forget that still is a misogynist world (her father is still a high born and well her father, larys is a high born and a type of “gossip girl” (didn’t find a better word for this sorry English is not my first language)).

Criston is a low born and a guard: manipulation is still a thing that happened here.

Hey again anon 💚

Dw, I didn’t find it rude, I was just confused a bit. Thanks for elaborating.

I think that the difference between Alicent and Criston’s relationship and Rhaenyra and Criston’s relationship is that they are based on totally different values. Rhaenyra x Criston are bound together by desire and momentary passion but lack devotion, duty, and sacrifice. Alicent x Criston don’t exercise upon desire and passion but have honor, duty, loyalty, devotion, etc. This means that both parties (Alicent & Criston) feel more self-realized and valued within the auspices of their relationship because it gives them exactly what they ask for.

To Criston, it gives him a purpose, namely his role as a sworn protector. Remember what he said to Rhaenyra? His relationship with her deprived him of his own feelings of self-worth: “I took an oath”/“I stained my white cloak”/“It’s all I have to my name.” To Alicent, that relationship gives stability and security unlike any other relationship she has with a male in power. She knows that Criston will not ask anything of her beyond what they have agreed upon. He won't betray her, neither will he use or manipulate her. And Criston feels the exact same trust towards Alicent because he feels that he will not be used again as he has been used by Rhaenyra. Therefore, their relationship dignifies both of them.

Going back to your comment about manipulation, the fact that Criston is free to affirm or deny what Alicent commands once again shows that his role as her sworn protector dignifies rather than restrains him. He knows who he is and where his duties lie, and he knows that he can refuse Alicent’s command to take Luke’s eye, exactly because his worth is not measured by how much and how well his actions will please her, which would be the case if he was constantly manipulated into doing something either out of fear, either out of personal gain, either out of loss of self-respect. As you very well point out, Criston can refuse Alicent because he knows very well that he can. That his life doesn't depend on whether he complies to her wishes or not. Because he knows that if he doesn't want to do something, she will not enforce it nor will she degrade him because of his choice. That's why Criston can have that much self-confidence in his position as Alicent’s sworn protector and member of the King’s Guard. At the same time, he further displays how he can act of his own free will, no matter how horrible it is (and don't get me wrong-Lord Beesbury’s killing was horrible!). But in the context of whether he is being manipulated or not, it once again shows that nope, Criston “is a man in his own right” to use the words of Emma D’Arcy, and he can make his own decisions. (Further commentary on his unlawful killings fuelled by bloodlust that explain his character you can find here.)

In my opinion, Criston can be himself in his service to Alicent just as much as Alicent can be herself and can trust him with everything (one of many examples is when she talks to him about Viserys’ prejudice towards Rhaenyra’s sons even though it is forbidden to do so because she trusts that he will keep her confidence). In short, Alicent and Criston’s relationship is built upon mutual trust and respect, and it doesn't quiver when Criston fails to meet Alicent’s demands. If Alicent really did manipulate Criston and the incident at Driftmark was the only time he failed to comply, then wouldn't she have been extremely angry? Wouldn't she have felt betrayed? But she didn't feel that, because she too KNEW that what she had asked him was way out of line, way beyond his agreed-upon duties and therefore violated their agreement.

And you can compare their relationship with a very clear cut example of manipulation as we see it in the show: think about how Criston behaves with Alicent versus how Alicent behaves with Larys. Is Criston petrified of her? Does he feel that his life might depend upon keeping her happy and satisfied? Does he think that she might twist his words and actions to harm him if she doesn't get what she wants? No.

[mitsies]

FAKING IT ! ; karasu tabito > being in love with your best friend is not for the faint of heart.

you were getting really, really sick of everyone thinking you were dating your best friend.

it was an all-too-common misconception, at this point– a mistake that most people in your life were guilty of making at least once or twice. your best friend, your parents, even your teachers have accidentally made that false connection.

at first, you didn’t mind it. in fact, it made you feel a little fuzzy inside, and it had brought the both of you a few laughs. after all, it was kind of a compliment to be deemed as karasu tabito’s partner, especially since you’ve been in love with him for god knows how long. after the first twenty or so times it just began to feel like salt in the wound.

yes, yes, you get it– you’re pathetically, stupidly, horribly down bad for the boy you’ve known since you were 6 years old. and yeah, you understand– it’s really fucking obvious. you don’t need even more people to point it out. that’s just kind of rude.

karasu, your childhood best friend, didn’t really seem to care for the comments. he’d raise a brow and deny them before returning to the conversation at hand as if you weren’t looking at him with heart eyes and the visceral need to kiss him stupid.

after the first dozen asks of ‘oh, are you guys together?’ or comments about how ‘you guys are such a cute couple!’ it almost became a reflex to shut them down with an awkward laugh and a polite refutal of their statement. it happened far too often for you to not be used to it. so when a pretty girl with a high ponytail and choppy bangs came up to the both of you as you were sitting on a bench after school, you’d basically expected her to ask if the both of you were dating.

you were not, however, able to predict this.

with teeth gritted, you listened as the girl chatted up your best friend with a sweet smile and pink cheeks. you wanted to hurl as she let her hand fall to his shoulder as she laughed a honeyed little giggle. and karasu, that stupid bonehead, looked like he was eating up every second of it. you knew he had a big ego but this was a little humiliating for the both of them. god, men are so easy, and he is not an exception.

“you’re so funny,” the girl, whom you recognised from your history class as a new transfer from tokyo named asami. you bet her bangs were a cover-up for her receding hairline and you wish for a gust of wind to flutter past and expose her, and hopefully give karasu an ick because she’d be bald by 20. “and this ring necklace? so cute. where’s it from? we should match.”

asami was practically draped over him and you’re sure you looked about ready to burst a blood vessel. karasu, at this point, was also looking a bit uncomfortable with the sheer amount of physicality being shared between the two. “we should totally go out sometime.”

you scoot away a little on the bench. as much as you adore karasu, and as much as you wanted to punch this chick, you had no idea what to say. your movements, though, garners her attention. “oh! you’re in one of my classes yeah?”

“uh, yeah. history.”

and then, she sees it– a ring identical to the one she’d just been complimenting karasu on, which he wore on a necklace. they were a token of the both of your friendships a gift he’d gotten the both of you years ago on your birthday. neither of you had taken them off since.

“oh,” asami starts, “are you two together?”

there it was. the age old question. you look towards karasu, expecting him to shoot this notion down as per usual. only this time, he doesn’t.

“we are,” he asserted, shifting an arm around your shoulders causing you to freeze up, “so you should probably leave us alone, yeah?”

the girl looks despondent and she purses her lips and takes her leave, and you can’t help but grin a little as the soon-to-be-bald blonde struts away with a broken pride. you bask in the feeling of self-satisfaction for a few more heartbeats when you remember– oh. karasu’s arm is around your shoulder. oh. he’d just said you were dating. oh. 

you look at him. he looks at you. and then he has the audacity to ask: “so, what were we talkin’ about?”

you don’t reply because you’re too busy fighting your demons. they’re willing you to smack him in the face and you almost want to comply just because you want to touch his face. “you’re such a manwhore.”

“‘scuse me?”

“i so want to beat the shit out of you right now.”

karasu scoffs playfully and his arm tightens around your shoulder. “don’t say that.”

a bubble of rage is building up into a storm inside your chest. it’s blending with the love, and the confusion, and the whatever else you were feeling because what was going on?

you slide out of his grasp and he has the nerve to look confused. you’re sure you look upset because his expression changes just a little, shifting to one that was unreadable. “what is it?”

you open your mouth before snapping it shut again. cogs were whirring behind your head and alarm bells were ringing at full volume as you try, and fail, to conjure up a response.

“we’re not dating,” you eventually manage. your words are stiff and almost sound robotic but at least they’re out there.

karasu raises a brow at you. “yeah. we aren’t. i just said that to get her to go away. and it worked wonders, didn’t it?”

you want to punch him again but you think you’re frozen to the spot, a rush of embarrassment flooding your cheeks. “we’re not dating,” you say again, like you’re awaiting a final confirmation. it’s more of a question than a statement.

karasu has always been one of the smartest people you’ve known. he was the top of his classes, a brilliant sports player for the school’s team, and never received marks below perfect. his intelligence, unfortunately for you, was not only limited to the realm of textbooks and fill-in-the-blank tests. he could read anyone like an open book– you were not exempt.

“but you want us to be.”

as always, karasu tabito is right on the money. there was no use in lying at this point. he sits back and exhales, no longer looking at you as you cross your arms over your chest. attempting to get up, you begin to shift and gather your schoolbag– a hand stops you.

karasu is smiling. you want to kick him in the teeth– how could he be smiling when he was just about to reject you? but as you look at him with an expression that would be a glare if it held any real malice, his hand comes up to your jaw.

and he kisses you.

naturally, the only correct thing to do is to shove him away. but your hands come up to his chest and instead of that you pull him closer, bunching up the button-down of his uniform until you’re sure it’s wrinkled beyond repair. you need him closer, even more so, you need him to kiss you ‘til you can’t speak any longer, and you’re so fucking confused but you’re breathing him like oxygen, like he’s all you’ll ever need.

when you break away for a breath, neither of you say anything. his schoolbag has spilled all over the ground and his hair is no longer sticking up because your hands were in it (and you note that he should wear his hair like this more often), and he’s breathing hard as he looks at you. “fuckin’ finally.”

you give in to your demons and slap him right across the face.

“what the fuck?”

“you are the worst ever, tabito,” you spit, “what the fuck?”

“you just slapped me.”

“and you just kissed me!”

karasu blinks at your outburst, as if he’d been unaware of his previous actions. “oh. i kissed you.”

“yeah, yeah you fucking did.”

“but you kissed me back.”

and it’s your turn to stop. “i did.”

“because you like me.”

and you’ve never been able to lie to him for long, so you respond with: “i do.”

“and i like you too.”

you blink at him. he stares at you, before asking: “can i kiss you again?”

and you laugh. tension snaps, ice shatters, everything is okay. in fact, it’s better than okay because you aren’t the silly teenager in love with their best friend anymore– you’re someone with another someone, you’ve got your love story in the bag now.

“take me out to dinner first, tabito.”

“you’re so difficult, fine. tonight? i can pick you up at 6.”

“and bring me flowers.”

“don’t push it.”

you slide into him and let him melt around you, uncaring for the bystanders  because you’ve already waited too long for this. “flowers or no deal.”

“okay, fine, flowers.”

“and then you can kiss me again.”

“not now?”

you purse your lips and pretend to be in deep, careful consideration. “depends. is asami still here? i want her to see this.”

✄ this was written for the mitsies 3k follower event with the prompts "fucking finally." + everyone thinks you guys are dating— one day you both decide to play along

[⇥ 3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥ 3K EVENT INFO]

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey, y'all. I've finally moved! So, I'm working on writing right now. I'm so sorry for the long wait; I've been juggling a lot. I hope you like this chapter; we'll get into more drama and romance in the next chapters! Pls remember that reblogs and comments are appreciated! Also feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

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Chapter 8

Bug's POV

It had been two weeks since you and Eddie kissed. Though you both had talked about liking one another, neither of you breached the topic of your relationship. And to be honest, it hadn’t bothered you. You got to enjoy the typical activities with Eddie, plus the bonus of kissing or cuddling. You weren’t worried about labels or anything. Plus it meant you didn’t have to feel so guilty about not going on dates or dressing up. Only something more had developed…

You had begun to have a dilemma of jealousy and embarrassment. 

It began that fateful on the November night that was fading into December, finals approaching viciously. You had overheard from a few classmates that Eddie denied their advances, all of them bitter about the situation. You knew why, but couldn’t help but feel worried. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you also weren’t nearly as experienced as Eddie. And maybe that sparked something in you. 

You were somehow both relieved and frustrated that Eddie hadn’t tried anything with you yet, curious as to how he would be with you. Some stories…made you sit at the edge of your seat, a gasp in your throat. 

He couldn’t help his reputation, really. 

You knew Eddie would make dirty jokes about enjoying choking with Gareth and even fake moans around Steve to make him disgusted. But he never did that with you. He was always sincere and kind. Tamed? In a way. But some tiny little piece of you, something depraved and lonely, wondered why. 

So you decided to test the waters. 

It started out small, of course. Something like a stupid ‘that’s what she said’ joke.

A few days later it snowballed to a joke revolving around your taste in jewelry and saying “Truthfully, I prefer my necklaces to be more...tight. Like a hand.” 

It was laughable, really. Embarrassing. 

But the straw that officially broke the camel's back?

A joke about Eddie's drawer. 

Eddie and you had been messing around, kissing sometimes and giggling, discussing past embarrassing moments. And that’s when you heard the story of how some guy ran out of Steve and Eddie’s shared apartment when he saw the ‘drawer’. You had rolled your eyes, laughing a bit and teasing Eddie gently. 

“I mean it is a bit slutty of you,” You giggled, curled into Eddie’s side. 

Eddie tickled your side gently, grinning softly, “Hey! We do not slut shame in this house. It’s rude,” He teased, nose scrunched up in the cutest way possible. Your heart skipped a beat. 

You smiled a devious grin and shrugged, standing up. “I wasn’t slut shaming…just…word gets around.” Your stomach was twisting and turning with nerves, your heart pumping. You were pushing it a bit, but wanted to test the waters. 

Eddie raised a brow at you, fighting a smile on his lips, eyes dark and twinkling with mischief. “Oh, does it, now? And what exactly…went around…?” 

You walked around, avoiding his gaze as you stared at the Warhammer minis on his shelf, a delicate finger careful to not touch them. “Oh…ya know…things like…how you’re really good at eating out. Or how you like ropes…and maybe…how you love power dynamics…how you…seem to really love getting people off.” With every phrase falling from your lips you felt more and more giddy and nervous, your heart thumping out of your chest. Your thighs squeezed together to rid the ache between your legs as you pretended to be more interested in his decor. You came to his band posters, some local, some big names. You stared at the art work and tried to avoid the intense feeling of Eddie’s gaze on you. 

“Oh…I see. And how much did you believe of it?,” His voice seemed low and almost like a whisper, but the guttural tones and bass of his vocals made a shiver run down your spine. You tried to hold your ground, walking towards his desk, playing with a fidget cube he kept on his desk for concentration. Your back was still to him. 

“Mmm…not much. I heard a lot of what seemed like exaggeration about how many times you made people…finish.” You breathed out, trying to ignore the trembling in your hands and the feeling of breathlessness consuming you. 

Eddie chuckled darkly and seemed to shuffle about, finally stepping closer to you and tracing delicate fingers up your side. “Do you want to find out if it’s true?” His breath was in your ear, making your skin feel hot and your stomach twist in knots. 

You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and looking off towards a Metallica poster, chewing on your lip. “I mean, if you want to prove yourself…fine. But there's no way you can make anyone cum that much, no matter how slutty you-”

You found yourself spun around quickly as a pair of strong and calloused hands intertwined into your hair and pulled you in at your waist, his mouth immediately upon yours as he shut you up with the most passionate and panty dropping kiss you had ever experienced. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips encased yours, fireworks going off in your belly. He rubbed his hand at your side, slipping under your shirt to have his cool hand touch your warming skin. He continued to tug at your hair, eliciting little moans from you and making wetness pool in your underwear, your body alight with desire. 

You felt desperate and pathetic, but in the best way. So often you were the caring and overbearing friend, the one who was always the designated driver, the one who worked a thankless job and tried to push others along to succeed. But here, with Eddie, you often felt free to let loose. Free to think less about others and more about yourself. And it seemed that translated into the bedroom too. 

Eddie was leaving your mouth to kiss down your neck, nipping and biting softly, causing you to whimper and claw at his back. He steered you toward what felt like the bed, dropping you onto your back before looming over you. His eyes were dark and his lips pink and swollen from the kissing. His arms were braced on either side of your head as his hair made a curtain around you, your heart beating at the sight of his expression. It was like he was hungry and desperate. 

“You’re so gorgeous…I’m gonna make you see fucking stars,” He growled out, making your body shiver in delight. 

He lifted your shirt off your frame, throwing it to the side as he cupped your breasts, eyes looking at you for reassurance. You nodded, biting your lip. He grinned devilishly, coming in to leaving bruising kisses and bites at your neck, his nimble fingers pinching and playing with your nipples, the desire pooling between your thighs as you squirmed under him. 

“Such a pretty girl…so responsive…,” He groaned out, grinding his hardness into you for a minute while you moaned, before moving down and taking a nipple in his mouth, first giving it teasing licks before he latched on and began sucking and nipping at the bud, making you whine and grip the bedding underneath you, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. You felt like you were on cloud 9. Your thoughts consumed by the goofy metalheads mouth and tongue, pleasure ever growing. You practically lost it when one of his hands traveled south while the other continued playing with your nipple that wasn’t between his teeth, hovering above your mound. 

“Can I touch you, baby? Can I play with your clit?,” He growled out around your nipple, your back arching at his words as you felt your cunt throb. You were mindless. You were putty in his hands. 

“Yes, god please…yes…” 

At that his hands went under your panties, finger quickly finding your sensitive spot and circling it gently. You were squirming, back arching, as his lip popped off your breast obscenely and moved to the other, and his fingers moved to tug at your nipple and keep it hard. At this point you swore you were going to combust. Eddie just kept whispering praise and growling around you, calling you his ‘plaything’ and his ‘girl’. Your back arching as you felt the familiar build, your cunt clenching around nothing as you whimpered, eyes screwed shut. 

“Fu-fuck…’M gonna cum…gonna cum…please please please, Eds,” You clawed at his back, releasing a moan from him as he moved to kiss you, still rubbing at your clit, this time with a bit more ferocity. You felt the pleasure between your legs build and build as you moaned into his mouth, finally snapping as he lightly smacked your clit, growling into your mouth. You saw white, your eyes rolling back as your body shook, gasps and moans escaping your mouth. You laid there, boneless for a moment, eyes shut as you caught your breath. 

Eddie collapsed beside you, sighing out. Your eyes fluttered open to look at him, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I guess…rumors hold…a bit of truth,” You panted, smiling weakly as Eddie chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“That was just a preview…catch your breath because I’m not letting you leave this bed until I’ve had my fill with you,” He whispered, smiling devilishly as he kissed your forehead and your eyes went wide. 

Eddie Munson would be the death of you. 

Once you’d had Eddie’s touch, his kiss…You were insatiable. 

Any moment you had free, you were in his grip. You experienced the ropes, the toys, everything. You now knew exactly what had all the people at Hawkins so hooked onto Eddie, his mere touch making you see stars. You had yet to actually have full penetrative sex, but it was satisfying exploring the space between. 

You hadn’t questioned your relationship, okay with not labeling it for the time. Though it seemed to really bother Steve. 

‘So, you guys finally a thing?’ 

‘He finally popped the lil question?’ 

‘Finally… or am I just hopeful again?’  

The last time he had asked, you were wearing Eddie’s shirt and boxers, cooking breakfast. You shook your head with a smile, laughing at Steve’s groan of frustration after Eddie walked out with a messy bedhead, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Everything was simple and fun. 

And sure, a small part of you hoped soon Eddie would call you his. You knew you were exclusive, and that was great. But some days you had dreamed of hearing the words ‘my girl’ fall from his lips.

But you would settle with the little piece of heaven you were gifted. 

You could always sense a storm before it came. Not a literal storm, but an unfortunate event. Of course it could be argued that your anxiety led you to always sensing a storm, even if one wasn’t oncoming. But you knew the familiar feeling, your belly churning, your heart squeezed, and your head pained by pressure and nerves alike. 

It all started after the afternoon you and Eddie had been cuddling and watching trashy TV, giggling over stupid circumstances. Eddie turned over and looked at you. 

“This may sound weird but…would you be okay if I used you for a song?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh, sure…That’s okay,” you replied meekly, heart leaping at the thought of your closest friend and romantic interest with benefits writing something about you. For you. 

He smiled at you, those ice melting dimples causing your mind to turn to goo. You smiled back shyly, snuggling back into the crook of his arm. 

Then your phone buzzed, causing your brow to furrow. 

You looked down at the screen in your hand, seeing a notification from Instagram.

@ChrissytheCutie has followed you!

You felt a sense of confusion and sourness build. You didn’t know the account, but decided to brush it off. You didn’t post much anyways and you knew a bunch of people would just follow you after seeing you went to Hawkins. 

And boy…

Was that a mistake. 

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90 @animechick555

[joyswonderland1108]

This is so fucking tiring.

Notice how my posts keep on being rants despite me trying to see the bright side of things? But the way this goddamn fandom treats both Jimin and Jungkook is absolutely disgusting (Again i’m not talking about the good ones out there, y’all know yourselves, kudos to you).

No wonder solos hate “OT7″ asses, i don’t condone any “solo’ness” but this fucking fandom gives them every right to hate their guts. Imagine loving a person so very dearly and a group of people who are supposed to treat that person with respect actually treats them like shit, how the fuck can you like these people or respect them. How do these oh so-called OT7s enjoy calling out solos when they can’t even call out themselves on some bullshit they pull out, learn to admit your own flaws before seeing other people’s flaws. 

Not only did people completely fail to see Jimin’s pov through his album, completely denied the symbolism in it, pulled lots of homophobic comments from their asses because they just can’t fucking accept that his album was queer-coded, wanted so bad to make “Like Crazy” a break up song when Jimin himself explained that it wasn’t inspired 100% by the damn movie’s story, ignoring completely that the boy made a whole album about his struggles and frustrations, something deep something that needed an open-mind and lots of understanding.

But now they’re completely ignoring the fact that “Seven” is a fucking single not just some images. Remember my post about Tiktok Army? Well they’re still at it. I keep on clicking on “not interested” but the way these videos are just so endless that they still pop up on my fyp.. Again i’m not linking any Tiktok i’ll post screenshots feel free if you want to consult the page but honestly i don’t want to give them clout

It’s all about the MV, explicit version, JK was topless in the ONE picture that dropped, y’all thirsty motherfuckers can’t even bother be excited for the actual single, and this is not even the worse Tiktoks out there, everybody is more concerned about it being explicit and having a woman in the MV, they’re all like “Oh well he was topless in the schedule picture that dropped which means the MV will be sexy, JK will be naked, JK will be grinding on Sohee” MOTHER.FUCKERS! Do y’all even care about JK? 

For all i know y’all smartasses, Jimin’s concept photos had him topless too, or specifically naked under a blazer but he was NOT in “Like Crazy” and in “Set me free pt2″ he was because he had a whole ass poem written on his chest, now what? Are we going to pretend this never happened? I swear it’s sickening they’re not even allowing us to enjoy the build up until July 14th, i try to distract myself but it ends up being there on my face no matter what. 

And to answer @milan1013 on your reblog about the live

There’s nothing wrong with the tiktok but the caption got me, because tell me why tf are people now shipping JK with Mingyu from a damn less than 2min Live knowing damn well these two are very dear friends. Again, i will say it again and again and FUCKING AGAIN!!!! JK is shipped with every living being, everything and everyone that breathes his way is shippable with JK that at some point do people even see him as a human being or.. ?

Sure it’s fun when it’s innocent all jokes ha ha but God fucking dammit the fact that out of an MV of a song that neither one of them even dropped, he’s already shipped with an actress and from a damn mini live he’s shipped with his friend now seriously where the fuck are we going, it’s becoming less and less fun each day to be in this fandom..

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 17: Afternoon Delight

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader

Words: 749

Warnings: more sweet than smutty, implied sex, discussions of filming sex scenes for movies, just pedro being v reassuring and lovey dovey.

A/N: highkey inspired by a scene in a book i read recently (the seven husbands of evelyn hugo) lmao

It had been a quiet weekend, one of the rare occasions neither you nor Pedro had anything scheduled. You’d allowed yourselves to sleep in, had a nice brunch with your coffees, and then settled in for a relaxing day of doing very little. By the mid-afternoon Pedro way sitting on one end of the couch reading and you were laying across the rest, your head in his lap, your attention on your phone. Every so often you let out a soft hum as Pedro absentmindedly played with your hair, and sometimes one of you would interrupt the quiet to share something funny you’d seen or just comment on how nice it was to do nothing. After some time in the peaceful bliss, Pedro’s page turning happened less frequently. You didn’t click to it right away but it became increasingly clear that something other than the plot of the novel had his attention. Finally, he cracked.   “Hey, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” You dragged your attention from your phone, “What is it?” “It’s about work next week.” “Mmm, what about it?” you asked, pushing yourself to sit up and face him better, a suspicion of what he was trying to get at already in your head.   “Well, next week we’ll be filming the sex scene.” “Right, I remember you mentioning that you’d be doing that soon.” “I thought I should warn you that it’s coming up, I think it’s going to be quite an...intense scene.” Your forehead creased as you pondered what that meant, “How so? What do you mean intense?” “Well, like I said before it’s got some actual nudity in it. Not full frontal but definitely my ass and I think her uhhh chest...maybe other parts too.” he blushed a little as he skirted around the words, “It’s not going to be a fade to black type scene, we aren’t shying away from showing the sex.” You’d let out a giggle as he’d cutely stumbled over his phrasing but fell quiet again with the rest, “Okay....do you feel like it’s overly gratuitous?” "No. I don’t think so. Our director explained his vision and the three of us talked through the scene. We came to the conclusion that it’s important for the characters. Seeing their desire for each other and seeing that each of them receives pleasure from the other will help the audience understand decisions they make later on. It’s not like it’ll be pornographic anyway, but it might not be that taseful either.” “Okay.” “Okay?” You shrugged, “Well, what do you want me to say? I mean I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea of seeing you fuck someone else or even pretend to. But I know it’s your job and it sounds like it’s in there for a reason and that you were included in decisions about it, so if you feel comfortable doing the scenes then... okay.” “I’d still like to know if you have any misgivings,” he grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze, “I’m not the only one this scene could effect.” You squeezed his hand back in a silent acknowledgement of his thoughtfulness, “I don’t know that I’d feel entirely comfortable watching it.” “If you want to skip the premiere screening you can.” He smiled, only a little bit teasing.   You laughed, “No, just give me a heads up when it’s coming up so I can close my eyes or pop out to the bathroom or something.” He chuckled, “Alright, deal.’ You swallowed thickly, “You don’t feel anything for her, do you? Your co-star I mean.” “No, definitely not. She’s beautiful, can’t deny that, and she’d really great to work with, but no.” You nodded again but before you could say anything more he’d pulled your hand to his chest, “You’re my heart. I want to do the scene because I think it’s important for the story we’re telling and the character I’m playing, but you are the only person I actually want to be with.” You smiled, “I know, but it’s very nice to hear you say it.” “I can do more than say it, if you like, I can prove it?” “How would you do tha-” Pedro cut you off, leaning in to kiss your neck and you melted into him with a nod and an, “mmhmm, yes please.” He laughed softly against your ear, making a shiver run down your spine, his hands already moving to remove your clothes, “It’ll be my absolute pleasure.”

[hazbincalifornia]

Fatherhood

Chapter 64: Blitzo and Stolas take a moment to talk before the ceremony begins.

Ao3 link

“You know, I’m pretty sure you could have just snapped me clean out there,” Blitzo commented as Stolas summoned a towel once they pulled apart. He watched it fly in from the bathroom and drop down on the couch before he was set on top of it.

“I could have, but then I couldn’t have had a moment of peace with you without everyone watching,” Stolas said, his tone shifted just enough that Blitzo knew it was leaning on the ‘concerned parent’ side of the spectrum as the owl brushed a hand over his still-slightly-darkened cheeks to try and wipe the color away. “Blitz-”

“Look, I know, but you had that spell around my guts! She was fine, she probably liked the exercise anyway, it’s been so fucking boring at work without being able to go out in the field, okay?”

“Babies are delicate!” Stolas waved a hand over his royal clothes, vanishing the mud with one clean sweep as Blitzo felt the splatters on himself starting to harden. “I know that you can handle yourself, but she cannot. She’ll likely barely be able to keep her head up when she’s born, and that’s hardly any condition to go rolling around in mud puddles with handsome cowboys.” He paused. “Not until she’s much older, anyway.”

“She’s gonna be a sturdy bitch, she’s mine,” Blitzo grumbled as he felt her nudge what might have been a hand against the inside of his skin and poked at it back. “See, she’s agreeing with me.”

“Be that as it may, if she inherits your stubborn streak, it’s going to be a very interesting few years,” Stolas said, folding himself down on the couch next to Blitzo. Even through the words, Blitzo could hear a pinch of fondness mixed with the frustration. “As dashingly rugged as you look, her safety needs to come first. Babies require a lot of work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Blitzo pulled his legs up with a groan, although his belly got too in the way for said legs to get up very far. “I know.”

“Do you?” Stolas tilted his head. “Loona wasn’t a baby.”

“I know that too, you had that heart-to-heart with her, remember?” (The one where she’d said he sucked. His stomach gurgled, and he brushed it aside.) “Babies are useless the first bit, sure, but I’ll manage. She’ll be worth it.”

“How would you feel if something happened to her and you could have stopped it?”

“Well, I’d-” The sentence died in Blitzo's mouth and tasted like hot ash.

Stolas sighed. He vanished the mud from Blitzo’s clothes with another wave of his fingers as he leaned closer, and his other hand rested on Blitzo’s knee. “I don’t mean to push, but neither of us want that. Please be careful… for both of your sakes. I can’t stand to think of either of you hurt, not when we’re so close. Your safety matters to me, dear, and you’re not at your usual strength anymore with her practically ready to burst out and say hello.” Blitzo’s chin sunk into his knees, and Stolas pulled the blanket up around him. “I know you’ll do your best.”

“Mhm.” The high of managing to pin Striker was quickly churning into anxiety, mixing with those fucking hormones and the ache in his gut he’d had all afternoon. The unspoken ‘but what if that’s not good enough?’ hung in the air like a thousand poisoned daggers as his claws dug into the leather of his pants and his stomach cramped, twisting in a vise on itself.

“Fatherhood is… difficult,” Stolas said slowly, and Blitzo snorted.

“Understatement of the fucking millennium.”

Stolas gave a little chuckle. “I won’t deny that. It’s been both the most difficult and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. If I know one thing, though, it’s that you have to try. Stella never did. She had Via and figured that was all she needed to do, and it was up to me to keep Via from realizing how little her mother ever cared.” He paused, eyes softening a little. “No matter what, I know that you’ll love them, the way you care for your Loona.” He ran his fingers over Blitzo’s shirt, straightening out a crease.“You’ll be a good father.”

You ruin everything you touch, why would this be any different?

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. I kick ass.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself at least half as much as he was thinking it. Stolas’s expression had too many emotions to root out and shifted up to squeeze Blitzo’s shoulder, settling to something that might have been determination with a slight curled hook to the beak.

“Just don’t throw her in the middle of any more wrestling matches,” Stolas said. “I’ll help you as much as possible until you start to feel more comfortable and we can ask Aamon if he can offer assistance as well. You’ll learn as you go. I had to do it all on my own the first time, and you’ll have me.” He gave a soft, lopsided smile. “I want this to go well as much as you do, darling… and maybe, someday, we might…” He trailed off, and Blitzo cleared his throat.

“Could you… fuck, this is dumb.”

“What?”

“If she- if she gets hurt, once she’s crawling around. Could you fix her?”

“Blitz!” Stolas’s feathers fluffed up as he stared down at Blitzo, who waved a twitchy hand, leg bouncing.

“Look, I don’t want her hurt either, okay? She’s still attached to me right now, and I just- fuck, what if-”

“If you keep your head properly on your shoulders and be the clever imp that you are, she’ll be fine." Stolas gripped both sides of Blitzo’s face, squishing in the cheeks slightly and turning it upwards to meet his eyes.”I was half your age when I had Via and she’s survived this long, you’ll manage with her until she can start crawling around on her own if you just take a breath and try to not drop her off the edge of a building. We can go through the apartment and add padding to make things safer, but she won’t really be moving for a while anyway.” Stolas’s palms eased off the skin. “I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I didn’t think you could handle it, you just need to think and allow me to help.”

“There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about me.” Still, Blitzo chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, the flash of pain grounding. “Fine. We’ll just hope she doesn’t stick a fork in the wall socket and go from there. I’m going to be careful and not run over her or some shit. We’ll be fine.”

“That’s the spirit!” Stolas kissed his forehead. “And you won’t do it again?”

“I’m not going to have the chance, if she’ll be rolling out of my pussy in a couple of days. Once she’s out, she’s getting treated with extra care like the glass ponies on the high shelf.” He sucked in a breath and let it out, the coil in his chest loosening a little. Quiet hung in the air for a few moments, and he could hear the echo of chatter from outside. “...Thanks.”

“Wonderful.” Stolas nodded, seemingly mostly to himself as he straightened up, but Blitzo could see the way his fingers drummed against his leg, the edge of nerves jittering through him. “Now then, I do have to prepare for the ceremony in a few minutes. Is there anything you need before then?”

Blitzo pulled up a smirk. “Think you could snap me up some snazzy new duds?” He waved at himself. “I kinda got the fancy shirt torn up, and I don’t know how well Mill’s folks would take to seeing flashes of my tits without asking first.”

“Hmm.” Stolas thought for a moment before snapping his fingers. Blitzo’s shirt changed with a flash of glitter, pale flowers blooming on the pattern as the fabric changed from white to red with buttons down the center. At that, Blitzo raised an eyebrow, but it came with a fond smile as he plucked a bit of the fabric up with a pinch.

“I’m not sure this exactly fits the honky-tonk vibe down here.”

“What? It’s a good look on you! Very fatherly energy.” Stolas’s cheek puffed out as he half-pouted, snapping his fingers again as the red bled away to a warm brown, the sparkle trailing down to his pants, which-

Blitzo couldn’t help a little grin as the leather of his pants shifted, the soft flesh of his ass spilling out on the couch. “Oh, you bitch.”

Stolas grinned back. “At least show it off before I change you back, love.”

The word still made his spines twitch as his stomach hummed with warmth, and with honey-thick affection boiling in his guts, he obliged. He slid off the couch and spun around on his boots to show off the cowboy ensemble that was complete with assless chaps, emphasis on the ass. The leg material cut off partway up, leaving his magic-and-baby plumped cheeks free. He gave himself a slap, hearing the noise echo. “I think I remember wearing something like this during body shots at a party once.”

“Oh?” Stolas tilted his head. “We’ll certainly have to recreate that sometime.”

“Oh fuck yeah, you’ve got the best tongue this side of the Hive,” Blitzo muttered half-under his breath, but Stolas’s feathers puffed up anyway. Score one for bird hearing. “C’mon, feathers, you know full well what you do to Daddy.”

“I need to work, dear-"

“Don’t you dare ‘dear’ me, you started it!” He prodded a finger at Stolas’s chest, and the sparkles shimmered over him one last time before returning him to his original outfit, albeit with the tears patched up. Stolas stood and stretched, smiling wider as he cupped Blitzo’s cheek before his voice dipped low.

“As soon as the ceremony is over, I’ll show you exactly what I’m dying to do to Daddy, darling.”

Blitzo opened his mouth to make a smart comment, but Stolas had swept out the door with the summoned Grimoire, the book floating in the air with a few stray sparkles trailing behind them by the time his brain re-activated.

Showtime.

[chvoswxtch]

remember that I love you. (7/?)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson desperately needs to graduate this year, and you're the only tutor that hasn't turned him down. (this is part 7 of this series!)

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 4.8k

a/n: I am once again apologizing for breaking your hearts. you guys know i'm a slut for some good angst. feel free to yell at me in the comments. this series will have a happy ending bc I am a huge sap, I swear. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated! please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

tags: @uraveragequeer @rosaline-black @willowss055 @lovsersclub @bellegirl16 @boeutiful @starryeyedkoko @korkisobsessions @fckyeahlames

The past month with Eddie had been nothing short of absolute bliss. I still had no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons, but neither he nor any of the boys held it against me. They still let me come to their meetings and join in on the fun that I could comprehend. I sat with them everyday at lunch as long as I didn’t have another student that needed help, or a deadline to help Nancy with. I had even finally introduced Eddie to my mother, who was instantly won over by his charm and promises of no grandchildren until way after graduation.

For once I believed that things were finally starting to look up. I was perfectly content with where my life was at. I had started preparing my valedictorian speech with Nancy’s help and feedback. I wasn’t being bothered by someone who thought they knew what was best for me. Eddie was so close to finally graduating, and was patiently teaching me how to play guitar. And I was slowly convincing him that going to prom wouldn’t be conformist on his part, but actually an act of rebellion. Everything was perfect.

I suppose, that was the problem. Everything was perfect, and I was too content. I got complacent. And the universe, being the vindictive bitch it was, had a recipe for chaos concocted just for me. I never thought one little piece of paper would decide my future, or flip my world upside down. I thought what Eddie and I had built together was strong and could withstand anything. But one little piece of paper had it crashing down around us like a house of cards. 

It was a Friday night, like any other. Eddie had promised to come by after band practice, and we were going to the local diner for burgers and milkshakes to celebrate his latest above average essay grade. Although, we had gotten a bit carried away before we could even step foot outside. Eddie’s high energy was still coursing through his veins when he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to my bedroom. We quickly became a tangled mess of limbs and lips, neither of us feeling like we could get close enough to one another. I loved Eddie like this. He had made a new personal rule that he wasn’t satisfied if I didn’t come at least three times. And who am I to deny him what he wants? 

There was a hunger in his eyes as he stared up at me from his position between my thighs. He was insatiable when it came to devouring me. I was often the one who had to push him away because I was too sensitive, but he didn’t want to stop until he had every last drop of what I had to offer. Eddie was definitely a giver. I often had to fight back for my turn. I loved pleasing him. I loved the way he sounded. I love the faces he made, the filthy words he spoke, I loved him. 

I wanted to tell him, but I never got to say it the way I had planned. Because a little piece of paper that I had once dreamed of, suddenly became a nightmare I never wanted.

“What’s this?”

I turned my head in the direction of Eddie’s voice as I pulled my shirt over my head. I furrowed my brows slightly as I tried to make out what was in his hand. He held up a folded piece of paper that was in an envelope stashed beneath my pillow. My eyes widened once I realized what he had found.

“Oh, nothing. That’s nothing.”

“I dunno, looks important.”

“It’s um..nothing really. You ready to go? Cause I’m starving, and I could really go for-”

“Dear Miss Y/N Y/L/N, on behalf of the admissions committee, it is my honor and privilege to share with you that you have been admitted to New York University for the fall of 1986.”

Eddie’s voice trailed off as he read the rest of the letter, staring blankly down at the piece of paper in his hand. I hadn’t told him that I applied last fall. I hadn’t mentioned that I received the acceptance letter about two weeks after I had started tutoring him. I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not my mom, not even Nancy. NYU was a school I had dreamed of attending since I was little. My entire life, all I wanted was to go to school there. But now, I wasn’t so sure. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time.

“I..I was going to tell you.”

“When, graduation?”

There was an edge to Eddie’s voice that made me feel small. His hand was slightly shaking as he gripped onto the piece of paper, still refusing to meet my gaze. I nibbled anxiously at my bottom lip, slowly approaching him as he sat on my bed.

“No. I wasn’t going to wait that long, I just..”

“How long have you known? When did you get this?”

“March.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Eddie quickly stood up and tossed the paper onto my bed. A dry, humorless laugh came from his mouth as he began to pace back and forth across the expanse of my bedroom.

“Eddie..please don’t be upset.”

“Upset? You’ve known about this for three fucking months now, and I’m just finding this out? That in what..a month when we graduate you’re just gonna, what? Take off? Runaway to New York City and send me a fucking postcard?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what, Y/N?”

“Look, I applied way before you and I even met, okay? And I got that letter right after I started tutoring you. I didn’t exactly think it was the best option to brag about getting into college when you were struggling just to graduate.”

Eddie dragged his palms down his face in aggravation, brushing his messy curls away from his face as he let out a deep sigh. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared at me from across the room. I could see the hurt swimming in his eyes, and the look of betrayal casting over his features.

“And what about when we started dating, huh? You didn’t think to mention it then?”

I had been dreading this conversation ever since I realized I had feelings for Eddie Munson. Even more so when he finally confessed his feelings for me. I knew I should’ve just ripped it off like a bandaid, dealt with the pain and given it time to heal. But for a goddamn moment I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to live in my little bubble with Eddie and not worry about the future. I sat down on the edge of my bed, fiddling with my fingers and hanging my head in shame.

“No.”

I heard him scoff and slap his hands against his thighs, resuming his pacing across my floor.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because I didn’t accept it.”

Eddie’s movements instantly halted at my admission. I could feel his unwavering gaze from where I sat. I couldn’t look at him. I had a gut feeling about where this conversation was going, and I wasn’t ready for it.

“Why?”

Eddie’s tone wasn’t curious, but demanding. He knew there was something else I was holding back. I hated how easily he could read me sometimes. It gave me absolutely no chance at an upper hand. I could see his beat up sneakers coming into view as he moved to stand in front of me, slowly lowering down onto his knees so that I had no choice but to be eye level with him.

“Why.”

There was no emotion in his voice. No warmth. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. There was no more hiding and running from this.

“Because..I’m not sure if it’s what I want anymore.”

After a moment of silence, I mustered every ounce of bravery I could find within myself to open my eyes and look at Eddie. There was a deep, somber expression etched onto his features and it made my chest feel tight. Neither one of us spoke for a solid two minutes. Eddie stared at me, like he was memorizing every detail of my face and it made me nervous. I waited, with bated breath for him to say something. Anything. All I wanted was for him to kiss me and tell me everything would be fine, and that we would work it out together. I waited in agony for any kind of response, just some inkling that we were okay. 

Eddie swallowed thickly, rising up from his spot in front of me and over towards my dresser to retrieve his keys.

“I need to go.”

I panicked as he walked through my doorway. I was on my feet in a flash, my heart pounding in my chest as I gripped onto his wrist to hold him in place.

“Eddie..please. Don’t go. Look I..I-I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner. I was just..Eddie please stay. Come on, we still have to celebrate don’t we?”

“Not tonight, Y/N.”

I was beginning to hate my own name the more Eddie said it. He hardly ever called me by my name, and hadn’t since we first met. It was always a sweet pet name. Eddie using my name only shot my anxiety further through the roof, and kept chipping away at my strength. Every step he took towards the door, every dull, monotonous repetition of my name was another crack in my heart. 

I surged in front of him, placing my palms against his chest and used all the strength I had to keep him in place. For a second I was a scared little four year old girl again, begging my dad to stay. I was on the verge of tears and I didn’t care how desperate I looked in front of him. I couldn’t let him go without knowing we were okay.

“Eddie..please. Please just..just tell me it’s okay. Please? We’re okay, right? I can’t let you walk out like this..Eddie please.”

Eddie closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself, setting his jaw in a hard line. I could feel the shuddering breaths he was taking with my hands still fixated on his chest. When he opened his eyes again, they were pleading with mine. He gently wrapped his hands around my wrists to pry my hands away, slowly moving them to hang by my sides.

“I..I need time to think.”

Eddie closed the front door quietly, but it roared in my ears. There was a finality to it that was the final crack in my chest. He didn’t say it. He didn’t say we were okay. I didn’t feel the sting of the cold tile biting at my knees as I fell to the floor. I didn’t register the sound of my mom's keys jangling in the lock twenty minutes later. I could hardly hear her voice as she held me in her arms and I clutched at my chest, trying desperately but failing to explain what was happening through tears. That was the second time Eddie Munson had left me in a crumpled mess on the floor.

I called relentlessly over the next two days. The only person I ever got on the phone was Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, who kept apologetically informing me Eddie wasn’t available. I drove by his trailer several times, hoping to just get a glimpse of him, but his van wasn’t there and neither was he. Sleep evaded me as I constantly pondered where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. I was turning myself into a pathetic mess over it. I tried to stay positive, not assume the worst for once. He’s just upset. He was caught off guard, that’s all. He just needs time.

I barely slept a wink Sunday night, even getting to the library at 6:30 instead of my usual 7:15. I chewed at my nails as I watched the clock hands ticking by, my head shooting over towards the front doors at the slightest sound. 

7:30 7:40 7:50 8:00.

The first warning bell sounded at 8:30 and I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. He didn’t show. I sat there, frozen in the reality of the situation. I didn’t move until the late bell sounded. I barely made it through my first class, rushing immediately towards Mrs. O’Donnell’s classroom before second period started.

“Mrs. O’Donnell! Have you seen Eddie? I didn’t see him this morning so I wasn’t sure if he was sick or-”

“Oh dear, didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Silly boy, must have forgot. He is a forgetful one, you know. You don’t have to tutor Mr. Munson anymore, Y/N. There’s only a handful of assignments left this semester, and even if he fails those, he’s still out of my classroom come June.”

“Oh..he um..yeah. Must have slipped his mind to tell me the..good news.”

The severity of the situation was finally starting to sink in. Eddie wasn’t answering my calls. Eddie wasn’t home when I went to see him. Eddie didn’t show up to tutoring this morning. Eddie doesn’t need me to tutor him anymore. He had finally gotten out of the one thing that brought us together. He doesn’t want to see you. 

I decided to hear the message loud and clear instead of embarrassing myself even further. The last thing I needed was for Eddie to add “clingy” to the list of growing reasons to avoid me right now. I didn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch. I didn’t wait by Eddie’s locker for him after class. I didn’t wait by his van in the back parking lot so he could take me home from school. For the first time in weeks I walked home. Alone.

I thought Monday had been brutal, but Tuesday and Wednesday weren’t any more forgiving. I tried to distract myself as much as possible, but it was no use. Eddie had become the center of my universe, my sun. And without him, everything felt dull and cold. I was mindlessly swapping out my textbooks when a familiar pair of brown eyes met mine once I shut my locker door. I jumped in surprise, clutching my books to my chest. 

Eddie.

He was staring at me, that goddamn unreadable look on his face again. I hated that look. I hated not being able to see through him like he could me. I stared at him wordlessly, afraid to be the first one to speak. His lips parted slightly as he sighed, gesturing his head towards the door that led outside.

“Can you meet me at my spot in the woods after school?”

My spot.

My stomach was in knots. I didn’t trust myself to speak, afraid that my voice would betray me, so I settled for nodding my head slowly. Eddie continued to stare at me for a moment, eventually dropping his gaze and nodding back. As quick as he had been there, he was gone. I felt like I was going to throw up. That queasy feeling lingered in my stomach the rest of the afternoon, and the final bell sent me into a panic. 

My hands were shaking as I walked across the football field, through the clearing to a path in the woods. There was a spot that had a picnic table no one knew about, except Eddie. Well..Eddie and all his “clientele”. He had brought me here a few times when we were supposed to be studying, but ended up making out instead. Eddie had declared it our hiding place. 

He was waiting for me already. His hands were folded in front of him on the picnic table. There was a far away look in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. He almost looked..remorseful. The panic began to bubble inside me once again. I wanted to turn around and run. I considered it actually, but a broken branch had alerted Eddie of my presence and now his gaze was fixated slowly on me. I froze. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest I was sure Eddie could hear it in the silence.

“Hey.”

I don’t remember a time I ever felt nervous around Eddie, at least not in a bad way. I had never felt this tense around him, or this scared. Eddie’s eyes shifted up and down my form, eventually settling back on mine. I couldn’t move. If I sat down, I had to face reality. If I ran, I could avoid it. But for how long? Eddie sighed as he leaned back slightly, rubbing his palms over his jeans.

“Are you gonna sit? Or..do I need to come to you?”

I lightly clenched my fists at my sides to get them to stop shaking. Keeping my head down, I took slow strides over towards the picnic table, sitting on the opposite side of Eddie. I folded my hands in my lap and stared down at the faded wood in front of me. There was a rusted nail coming out of placement.

“Y/N.”

Fuck. This was it. My face felt hot and my throat was dry. I could feel that familiar lump blocking off my airway. Wet tears rimmed my eyes and threatened to spill at any moment. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t look at him. All I could do was close my eyes and hope this would be over quickly. I heard him let out a deep sigh across from me, and the sound of his metal rings dragging over the wood as he extended his hand.

“Sweetheart.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. That one little use of a pet name had me reeling, feeling the slightest twinge of hope that maybe this wouldn’t end badly. The dam had broken, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Tears were falling over each other in waves, but there was something off about the way he said it. It wasn’t warm. It was..detached. I pulled away from his grasp as he sat down next to me to wrap his arm around my shoulder. Even his touch was cold. 

“Baby..I need you to listen to me, please. Can you do that for me?”

His voice was tender as he spoke, like the way you might speak to an upset child. I had a gut feeling I knew what he was about to say. I could feel it. I just needed to get the words out to change his mind..but I couldn’t find them. I finally opened my eyes to look up at Eddie, finding that his eyes were shining with regret. I held back a choked sob as I suddenly reached out to grip onto his hand tightly.

“Please..”

Eddie shook his head slowly, wiping at his own cheeks before bringing his large hands up to cup my face. He brushed his thumbs lightly over my cheekbones, leaning in to brush his nose along mine softly.

“I need you to hear me out, alright?”

I let out a shaky breath as I nodded quickly, gently grabbing onto Eddie’s wrists to keep him close. I was afraid if I let go, he would disappear. He pulled back slightly so that he could look into my eyes.

“I care about you, more than anything. More than I ever thought I could possibly care about someone. I want you to know that.”

“I do, Eddie. I swear.”

“I am so fucking glad I met you, I am. Not just because you helped me when no one else would, but because you’ve been the biggest source of light in my life. The one good thing I could always count on. No matter what kind of shit day I was having, or what was going on, all I had to do was see that pretty face, and all the other shit just slipped away. You make me so fucking happy, Y/N.”

“You make me so happy too, Eddie. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world with you.”

“And I want you to know how fucking proud of you I am. Because I’m so fucking proud. You are so damn smart, and kind, and talented..and you deserve the world, angel. Nothing fucking less. But..I can’t give that to you.”

“Eddie-”

“Y/N, I’m not going to let you throw your future away because of me. You gave me a chance, to get the hell out of here and make something of myself. Now I have to do that for you. Because you are meant for so much more than this. You are so much bigger than this stupid fucking town. You have to get out, you have to go to New York, and you have to become someone..someone great. You have to live that life you always dreamed of, and I can’t stand in your way.”

“You’re not in my way, Eddie. You could never be in my way. I just..please I need you to understand-”

“Sweetheart, I can’t make it into college with my grades. I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m going to do once I graduate, but I am not dragging you down with me. I won’t.”

“You’re not..Eddie please, just listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Eddie please..please. I love you. Please..don’t do this. Just let me explain..please.”

Eddie gave me a sad smile that broke my heart. There was a pained look on his face as tears rolled down his own cheeks, leaning in to gently press his lips against mine. I could taste the salt from his tears, and it only made me cry harder. This was going to be our last kiss. Eddie was saying goodbye.

“I know..I know, angel. I love you, so fucking much. Which is why I have to let you go. I can’t be the one to ruin your dreams, I would never forgive myself. I love you too much to do that, and as much as I want to be selfish, I can’t. I always knew deep down..that you were..you were too good for me. I tried to ignore it as much as I could, I really did. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you..and as much as I wanted that to be me, and God did I fucking want it to be..it just isn’t.”

I wanted to scream at him, grab him by the collar of his shirt and scream until my lungs gave out that he was wrong..that he just didn’t understand. I just needed to make him understand. That unforgiving lump in my throat wouldn’t budge. Words teetering on the tip of my tongue escaped me. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t breathe. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. 

I felt his lips ghost over my forehead, and then felt the emptiness of his touch. I felt like I was drowning. Everytime I gasped for air, another tide crashed over me and held me captive under the surface. I could feel water filling my lungs, taking over the space my oxygen once resided. Everything around me was spinning and I felt like I might pass out.

“You’re gonna do big things, angel. Big fucking things. Please..remember that I love you. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m..I’m so fucking sorry.”

I didn’t move for five hours. I just sat there..frozen. Everytime I thought I couldn’t possibly shed any more tears, a fresh batch fell from my eyes. I went through alternating intervals of pain and numbness. Every now and then, I would feel nothing. A shallow, abandoned house..one gust of wind away from falling apart. Then the pain would start back up, spreading like a virus, until it was everywhere. I felt it ache in my bones. I didn’t know which was worse. The absence of him, or the incessant reminder that he was real. That he had been here. And that he wasn’t coming back.

I didn’t even flinch when I felt a hand grab onto my shoulder, shining a flashlight in my direction. I barely heard Nancy yelling to the other members of my search party that she had found me. I stared blankly at her as she shook me by the shoulders, shouting words my brain couldn’t bother to process. I didn’t look up when Robin and Steve emerged from behind her, flashlights in hand and genuine expressions of concern. I had completely shut down. 

Nancy’s fury slowly melted into apprehension. She carefully sat down in front of me, unease written all over her face as she took my hand into hers, gently calling my name to get my attention. All at once, the agony collided so hard into my chest it knocked the breath out of me. I clutched at my chest as I hunched over, sobs wracking violently throughout my entire body. Nancy didn’t hesitate to pull me in, coddling my head against her chest as she rocked me slowly, brushing my hair out of my face that had been glued by my tears. She shared a knowing look between Robin and Steve, silently delegating to the two of them. 

“I’ll..go bring the car around. Steve..keys?”

Steve fished into his pocket for his keys, tossing them into Robin’s direction. Nancy sighed softly as she looked up at him, gesturing her head down towards me.

“Can you carry her, please?”

Steve handed off his flashlight to Nancy, tucking his arm under my knees and wrapping the other around my back. I didn’t hardly know Steve at all, and if I were in any other state of mind, I would probably be embarrassed he was having to carry me like this. But I didn’t care. Not one fucking bit. I couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the tormented weight in my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hid my face into his chest, crying shamelessly as if he was an old friend I had known my whole life.

“Shh, it’s alright Y/N. I got you. We’re gonna take you home, alright?”

I didn’t wanna let go. I didn’t want to feel that ache of emptiness again. I couldn’t bear it. I needed something to grip onto to tether me to the surface before I went under again. I didn’t let go of Steve the entire ride to my house, or when he carried me through the door to face my incandescent mother, or even when he laid me down in my bed. I couldn’t let go. My grip on his jacket only tightened when he went to move, a broken whimper coming from my chest.

“Alright..alright. I won’t go, I promise. I’ll stay right here. Nancy’s here too, and Robin. We’ll all just have a little slumber party. You know what, Y/N, you’re actually making one of my wildest dreams come true. I get to have a sleepover with three chicks. Can cross that off my bucket list.”

“Steve, shut the hell up.”

“Relax, Nance. I’m just trying to get her to laugh.”

If I hadn’t been reduced to a fragile shell of the girl I was several hours ago, I would’ve laughed, much to Nancy’s dismay. I would have laughed and apologized to Steve for being so high maintenance. I would have told him how much I appreciated him being there for me, even though he didn’t know me. I would have apologized to Nancy and my mom for making them worry sick about where I was. I would have apologized to Robin for getting her dragged into my mess. I would have been able to function and use my words and explain to everyone what was going on.

But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even cry anymore. I felt hollow, like everything good inside me had been carved out. I didn’t fight sleep this time. I surrendered and let it take over, coaxing me under into a brief semblance of peace. It seemed even my brain and subconscious knew better than to twist the knife because for the first time in months, I didn’t dream of Eddie Munson.

[ohabigailhowcouldyou]

Written in The Stars(igns)... ~pt 3

He was tipsy, not drunk. Honestly. The fact that the entire world seemed to be in soft focus was purely because he'd just had his first real shower in a week and was looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed, instead of wedged uncomfortably in the back of a van. That was it. He hadn't had that much to drink. Just some bourbon, that's all. And a few sips of whatever Ryan had been drinking, that had burned like acid down his throat. Not that much at all. Just enough to be tipsy, not drunk.

He walked (he did not stumble) out of the hotel's bathroom, weaving his way toward the nearest bed, wearing only boxers, rubbing a towel through his dripping hair. He sat down on the lumpy mattress that protested his slight weight with a squeak.

A second too late, he realized the lump and squeak were not the mattress after all, as a startled Chris jerked upright, eyes huge in his make-up-less face, blanket falling away from his bare chest.

"Oh shit!" Ricky instinctively scooted away, and would have toppled off the bed entirely if Chris hadn't grabbed his forearm and tugged. Instead, he fell forward against the taller man, his momentum carrying them both down onto the bed.

For a moment, there was only warmth and skin and the feeling of Chris' heart beating against his own chest, like it belonged right there next to his. Then one of them giggled, followed by the other, followed by Chris' teasing voice rumbling against his ear where it was pressed against the side of his tattooed neck.

"You're the clumsiest drunk I've ever met."

"Not drunk," Ricky protested, a weak punch landing against Chris' shoulder. He didn't even try to deny the clumsy allegations. He'd fallen off the stage more times than anyone else in the band, and would probably continue to hold that record for as long as they played shows.

"Right..." Chris drew out the word, and Ricky couldn't see his face, but he knew there would be a raised eyebrow accompanying the comment.

"I'm not!" He tried to push up into a sitting position, wanting to prove his sobriety, and only managed to get his hand tangled in the damp towel and faceplant against Chris' chest. Again.

More laughter, like the tremors preceding an earthquake, and Ricky decided he didn't mind Chris laughing at him all that much.

Nor did he mind the long fingers combing damp, black locks of hair away from his face.

"Y'know," Chris began, but Ricky interrupted him.

"If you're gonna give me the straightedge speech, I will stab you."

"I'm terrified," Chris said drily, one large hand fitting over Ricky's mouth to stifle his retort. "But what I was going to say, is that this kind of reminds me of that first winter after you moved to PA. When the heating went out."

Ricky felt his cheeks heat up against Chris' fingertips. How could he forget Chris crawling into his bed, shivering, at two in the morning? They cuddled for warmth every night for over a week, until they'd gotten the heating sorted out. Neither of them talked about it afterwards, even though it lived in Ricky's memory like a technicolor fantasy made real.

"Do you even remember that?" The question was asked in a tone of voice he hadn't heard from Chris before, and he craned his neck back to look at the other man, Chris' hand dropping from over his mouth to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Chris was biting down on his pierced lip, eyes not quite meeting Ricky's.

"Of course I remember," he answered, then to bring some levity back, "my memory isn't that shitty. Yet."

For a second, they looked at each other, and all the time that had passed since that winter seemed to collapse into a black hole between them, its gravity irresistibly drawing them together.

The kiss was hesitant at first, the metal of lip rings like spots of ice quickly heated by their shared breaths.

Chris' fingers knotted in Ricky's still-damp hair, using it for leverage to adjust their positions and deepen the kiss until he could savor the faint aftertaste of whatever liquor Ricky had been drinking earlier.

Drunk by proxy, Chris thought, his head spinning and heart racing and skin on fire where Ricky was pressed against him.

They both knew this was a mistake, but unfortunately for both of them, it was one neither of them was willing to resist making.

[dailyreverie]

Could I pretty please get a "I really want to kiss you right now" with my love Santi❤️. Thank you so much!!

A/N: Hii! Here's a cute little sneaky Santi being completely in love. Hope you like it!!

****************

It’s hard to keep up appearances, especially when it comes to Santiago Garcia and his deep stare. It was hard a few months back when it was nothing but a big crush, but knowing he feels the same way, sharing nights and days since then, and falling more and more into each other every passing minute, makes denying your mutual feelings almost an impossible mission.

But it’s worth it, you think, that’s why all that ignoring and sneaking around keeps happening. If someone ever found out about you and Santi, you both would end up losing so many bets you would end up broke; after so many times where you claimed you were totally not into each other, giving everybody the pleasure of knowing they were right is not something either you or Santi need. So, when the rest of the boys are around, smiles and quick glances are all you get.

When everyone gathers for a nice little party you get there in different cars, and you greet each other as if you hadn’t been seeing each other almost every day for the past two months, but when it comes to his eyes… damn those eyes, looking you up and down and taking you in when you sit in front of him, knowing damn well that you are trying to keep your mind in the conversation happening next to you and avoiding his gaze at all costs, you can’t stop yourself from skipping a breath or two.

You wonder if he does it on purpose, because when you remember to take a breath and look away from him he chuckles, and when you excuse yourself to grab a drink he follows close. “You look beautiful,” Santi speaks close to you, grabbing a beer for himself from the cooler as you pour a drink into your glass.

“This is not very discreet at all, Santi.” You can’t even look at him. “Why did you follow me here? You know how they get when they see us together.”

“Because I needed to tell you how beautiful you look.” You roll your eyes to look at him. He’s smiling, utterly and completely stunned by your blushing face. “Hermosa.” 

“Santi, don’t-” You warn him. He knows how weak you get when he starts speaking Spanish and he uses that against you every time he can, but before you can finish he’s speaking again.

“I really want to kiss you right now, I needed you to know that too.” Your brain can’t form a coherent sentence when you look up at him again. He takes away your words again, with his eyes this time as he captures yours. It’s sneaky and it’s silent, and he manages to take your hand just to reassure you he means it. “I kind of want to pay them and shut them up if I get to kiss you as much as I want to.”

You laugh, your hand on his chest when he takes a step closer. “How much do you think we owe them? Was it like 100 dollars for Fish?”

“150, actually. And like 75 for Benny.”

It’s inevitable to laugh at how stupid you were. Alll those “I’ll give you 25 dollars if we ever sleep together”, those “If we end up dating you get $100”, sound like the most unrealistic promises ever made.

“We can go halves, what d’you say?” Santi’s already smiling against your lips when he agrees to that deal, pulling you by the waist to kiss you properly, neither one of you able to hide the smiles from your lips when you kiss. And Santi loves it, he loves knowing just the feeling of being close to each other makes you both smile like that, and loves being wrong about those bets if it means he gets to have you to himself. His kiss shows that and more and he can’t stop himself from kissing you, over and over again, even with the distant screams about the money he just lost.

************************

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[mortumslab]

Remembering to be Human - Chapter 10

Hello everyone!

Here's chapter 10!

Chapter 10 tw: violence, gore, suicidal thoughts

Chapter 9 Link:

Trapped. Can’t get out. Not alone.

Not alone. Not alone. Feed. Must feed. Hungry.

Become. Become. Hungry. Feed.

“AH.”

Your scream wakes you. Julia’s hands are on you before you can fall out of bed. She pulls you back towards her. Breathing ragged. Heart hammering. The rush of blood is the only sound. Your head throbs. Eyes tight until the pain subsides.

“Arya, what happened?” Her voice is soft yet firm. Trying to ground you. It’s not working. You’re going to be sick.

Breaking from her grip, you bolt to the toilet. The bastard weaving your fate grants you a small mercy as you make it in time. Last night’s meal hits the toilet. Vomiting is normal for you. But the degree to which it has happened this week is concerning. You know the nightmare is related to your identity crisis. The thing inside is breaking through. It’s taking control. 

Julia is behind you. She’s held your hair out of the line of fire. Whatever is happening needs to be fixed soon. Or you may be yourself much longer. Do you tell Julia this? Worrying her may make her more emboldened. But it could get her killed, too. You don’t want her to die for you. Though you know she’s stubborn and would do it anyway. 

You would die for her.

“I think…” you swallow back the nausea. The headache is diminished now. A familiar pulsing. “I think something Heartbreak did. Or the Farm did. It’s inside my head. My telepathy. It’s like another conscience is in there.”

“How is that possible?” 

“I’m not sure. The experiments they did on me were nothing short of torture. Who knows what the damage is.” She helps you to your feet. Turning you to face her. She wraps you in a tight hug. Neither of you has an answer. But you both know who does.

“Just another reason to take the fight to them.” Your voice is muffled against her shirt. You realize a second late that the shirt is a Heartbreak fan shirt. “No way.” And your laughter echoes in the bare bathroom.

“Hey, just supporting my girl.” She smiles. “I have no idea why you have more merch than I do at this point, but I doubt you’re getting royalties.”

“I am not, but seeing that the public doesn’t fully condemn me is nice.” Your goal is to bring awareness to the corruption. Apparently, it’s working. You hadn’t paid much attention to your ranking in the officially unofficial Los Diabolos, but a cursory glance at breakfast tells you you’re in the top 10 of villains. Though commenters under your profile are in a heated keyboard debate about whether you’re a villain.

“We need to get you armor. And a name.” You look to Julia. She is ecstatic. Oh no.

“I have been thinking about this from the moment I started to suspect you were Heartbreak.” 

“Were you fangirling over me before you knew me?” You can’t stop the astonishment from covering your face.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that.” She says with a wink. Confirmation, indeed. “But I have some ideas.”

“Go on, then, enlighten me.” You say with a hint of teasing. She’s truly serious about this. You weren’t sure if it was an empty promise but a clear head doesn’t seem to have dissuaded her.

“Well, I still need to use my mods. So I need to find something to distract from the similarities.” She’s getting excited. You can’t help but smile. “So I was thinking of a few names. And I was thinking about getting a sword.”

“A sword?” You almost laugh. But Charge has never used a weapon. Why should anyone suspect she’s anything more than another villain?

“Yeah! Something I can maybe make electrically charged.”

She’s onto something. “So a name?”

“I had a few ideas.” Then she lists them off. “Diode, Electropath, and then to keep in theme with you, Pacemaker or Defibrillator.”

“I like Pacemaker. It makes it sound like you’re keeping me sane. Which, I guess, is why we’re doing this.” She’s truly giving everything up for you and your crusade. “What did I do to deserve you?” That slipped out. Shit.

“Being you was enough.” She says it so simply it has to be true. Right?

“Sap.” You grumble, finishing your coffee. “I need to coordinate Rosie dropping off money to the Children’s Hospital and then into our funds. Then I need to get Mortum to work on something for you.” 

“What do we do in the meantime?” 

“Investigate, I suppose.” You groan, getting to your feet. “I should suit up and deliver the Koch files to the D.A. and then whatever Blaze recovered.”

“Want some help?” 

“Like before, let me make a show. Drama. Then I’ll escape in a cloud of smoke. Hopefully, no one puts up a fight.” Sighing. “I think I feel better after last night. I’ll eventually need to figure out how to be the brutal fighter and the, well, me. But that’s for after.” After you take down the Farm. Figure out whatever they put in your head. Because you know it’s not making you this way. You are this way. You were broken. Now you’re trying to heal. But it won’t happen until you’re alone in your own head.

“Okay, I’ll keep the Rangers on patrol. I’m sure we also have some work to catch up on.” 

“Hey, how do you keep getting in here? I have several security measures.” You had been wondering this since she’d been in here after your escape from the Ranger HQ. 

“Oh, you have a… security flaw.” A small electrical charge rolls down her arm. 

“Ah, you fried my systems. Twice?” You can’t help but laugh.

“You never gave me a key.” 

“It’s a passcode. It’s the date of our Psychopathor mission.” You feel your cheeks burn up.

“Now who’s the sap.”

“Fuck off, I need to get going.”

Suiting up, you hear Julia leave via the private elevator. You don’t know what will happen if someone catches you together out of gear. But Arya isn’t yet a criminal, and your romance wasn’t exactly a secret in the Sidestep days. Hopefully Heartbreak and Pacemaker draw even less attention.

Julia is officially in your life in a capacity you couldn’t have expected last week. Deep down, you might have hoped for it, but your current career choice felt incompatible. Now, however, you’re letting yourself hope. Hope is dangerous. Hope leads to heartbreak. And there’s been far too much of that lately.

You open Mortum’s contact information on your phone. How do you phrase this? How do you just ask for something? As Arya? Not as Eden? Eden. Eden who’s currently being kept alive in one of Mortum’s research facilities. You had Mortum take her when you decided to go public with the Rangers. 

Your fingers hesitate over the keyboard. Just be honest. Open. Like friends. Because you are.

Hey, I was wondering if I could commission a project from you.

Need to call? 

Yeah.

Then you dial.

“Mon cherie, what can I do for you?”

Deep breath. “Hey, I think I’m going to need another suit. Nothing as high tech but safe and anonymous.”

A moment. “Oh? For yourself?”

Another deep breath. “No, actually, for an associate. Getting myself a sidekick.”

“Do I want to know who it is?”

“I’ll tell you, but it might be better not to know.”

“Ah, I wondered when this would happen.” She sounds amused.

“Are you laughing at me?” 

“I would never.” Definitely a laugh. That one even came across the speaker.

“Well, would that be possible?” Your meekness outside of the suit is your truthful self. Which helps when Heartbreak is nearly overbearing at times.

“Yes, in fact, I might have something available. Would you happen to have her measurements?”

“Uh, shit. Probably not. I can ask?” Her. She knows. You’re becoming swiftly incapable of keeping secrets. Thankfully, Mortum and Julia seem to be the only two who take you apart like this.

“Or I could come to your base. Avoid having to show a Ranger my lab.”

“That works. I have some gear here, but you may need more.”

“What you have will suffice. Tonight?”

“If you’re free, yes.” Relief. Good to have allies. Friends. Being human.

“See you tonight then, Mon cherie.” 

That’s one issue solved. You send a text to Julia.

Need you back here tonight. Mortum has a suit.

One problem solved.

Confronting the mayor wasn’t on your agenda for many months. However, with what Blaze discovered - more communications between GeniTech and Los Diabolos’ ruling class - and your discoveries from Koch, you feel ready to make some waves.

Heartbreak needs an entrance. You always do. And, once again, you find yourself perched on a building overlooking the city hall. You’re surprised they don’t have guards stationed here. You’ve done this enough times you wonder if they’re just asking for you to make a fool of them.

You know Alvarez is in her office. You can see her through her office window. Dampeners are active, but you won’t be here long enough to warrant taking them out.

Deep breath and—

BEEP

Your brows furrow for a moment. A notification? Why? Who?

Julia.

Special Directive is here. They’re being ordered to bring in Steel. They’re not telling us why. Stay away. Love you.

Rage.

Rage rolls through you. 

The Rat King alerts you to nearby guards. You don’t care. You’ve already dropped to your bike stashed below. It’s nearing the end of the day, so you can hide amongst the shadows.

The Rat King is doing its best to calm you, but you’re not about to let go of this. The Directive may be made of ReGenes like yourself, but they do not get to go after your friends. If someone dies. If. It will be on you. And you alone. If they touch Julia. If. 

The soft whirring of your bike is the only sound as you speed through afternoon traffic. You’re not far from the HQ. You wouldn’t have stayed away even if you were. You’ll pretend like you accidentally happened across this. Decided to take advantage of the commotion and rob the place. Something. Not really important right now. What’s important are the two military transports parked outside the Ranger HQ. They’re parked in a position to secure and exfiltrate. You recognize it well. You were usually with the target.

Leaping off your bike, the two ReGenes covering the front entrance are mowed down. The shrapnel of your cycle goes in several directions. One ReGene stops moving. He took the brunt of the force. The other moves on you with inhuman speed.

When you fight, it’s a dance. A graceful mantra you’ve shown the world. Heartbreak is a gentleman as much as a brutal weapon. Now, however, you’re just a weapon. A weapon the Directive created. Mental and physical trauma awaits your enemies.

Your fist catches the remaining ReGene. He goes down, but inhuman joints allow him to catch himself and spin, coming in for another attack. No. One word. One word and the ReGene falls limply at your feet. He’s alive. Barely. You shut him down without even a twinge of a headache.

Stepping over the guards, you stride inside. The receptionist appears to be alive. Terrified but alive.

“Are they upstairs?” Your voice is clipped. Harsh. No joviality. Not normal for Heartbreak.

This level of fear is usually expected. But right now you need information. Data.

“Anna. Are they upstairs?” Your voice softening. You use her name. She blinks. Then nods vigorously.

“Get yourself out of here. I took out the two out front.”

She doesn’t ask why you know her name. Or why you’re helping.

The stairs. You use your grapple to skip the flights. You expect a standoff is going on in the break room. You were correct. Landing at the stair door, you can sense the Ranger team and at least 6 armed ReGene thought-voids. The classic absence of thought never tricked you. Though, you pretended like it did. The Farm was far too willing to believe they’d tamed you. 

Now you’re unleashed.

The door stands no chance. You go through it like a hot knife through butter. The first ReGene nearest you reacts with enhanced speed. But you don’t care. You break his mind. Rage. Pure rage. He drops before even reaching you. The Rat King tells you the others have recovered from your entrance. Steel is ordering them to get into position. 

The next two ReGenes, the first armed with cannons and the second armed with a sword start towards you. While they both launch attacks, you distract the mind of the cannoneer. His shot goes wild, and using the swordsman’s momentum, you grab his wrist and bring the sword down across the cannoneer’s arm. The arm is bisected, and wires and sparks emit from the stub. You use the weight of the swordsman and, while flipping him over your shoulder, drive the sword through his abdomen. Both are still alive. Pain gates on. You hear Julia yelling. Six more Special Directive ReGene have entered the room. Did they spend fourteen Re-Gene on you? Really? Julia is being surrounded. None of the Rangers expected a battle. None of them are armed or suited up. 

Herald has one around the neck and is lifting them into the air. He’s wailing on the faceplate, but the ReGene doesn’t seem to care. Three from the original party have surrounded Argent. She’s having fun. The invulnerable woman is in her element. She’s using her morphogenic sword and is easily matching all three who also wield melee weapons. Steel and Julia are surrounded by the remaining five. 

You’re not even sure what the ReGenes in front of Julia and Steel are outfitted with. It hardly matters. You’re running on pure hate. You strip the first ReGene of its arm. It screams in pain. The arm is entirely metal. It makes a decent club to cave in the skulls of the next two. The fourth ReGene you hit so hard, your fist goes entirely through him. You pull out wires instead of guts. Disappointing. The remaining two have decided you’re a threat. Peripherally, you see Steel cradling a missing limb. One of his cybernetic arms is missing. 

Two ReGenes are standing over Julia. She has a gash across her chest. Blood. A lot. Julia. Hurt.

There are too many. Overwhelmed. You can’t get to them all in time. Herald is down. Argent is down. Steel is down.

All for nothing. Hope is lost. All for nothing.

Julia. She’s dying. No. No. No.

No. No no no no no no no no.

No.

begin.process.void

void.step.activated

Bisected. Halved. Decapitated.

Two. Three. One.

Unrestricted. Unchained. Overkill.

Unconscious.

[honeybeewhereartthee]

PINK KKOMAS 169

SPOILER FOR MY STORIES

"his being dramatic." Kuma commented now in his human form. He held kitty in his arms while looking at the pinky around him. Especially at Doll who's glaring at him while eating mochi given by purple for the bday celebration of every pinky. 75% discount (he cannot give free things this month, his boss going to grill Him)

"I'm not!" Doll denies. "Calm down doll. What happened anyway. Also why are you sulking wet cat right now?" Reaper says as he continues to dry doll wet locks but it seems to still be drench still. His going to mistake doll as the merman in the group instead of sea now.

"dollmaker x phantom isn't real now." He mumbles as still surprised by this. "Huh." Reaper raise a brow at the statement. "Honest it's fine if so. Hmmp." He added.

"his shocked cause he realize it's dollmaker x Kanata all this time. AHAHA." Kuma suddenly said the real fuss about and in short time his in a choke hold of doll who's screaming again. "SO YOU REALLY FUCKING KNOW ABOUT IT!!"

"I guess--ackkkk....."- Kuma.

"doll stop it!" reaper pulled doll away from the poor cat. Doll was given sweets again to calm him down.

"what's wrong with that through...?" Purple thought about his world Mayoi and think that there's nothing wrong with those couple. Neither would a Kanata one would be a bad one. If they are soul mate, it's a blessing and who to change that fact?' the demon who come from the world of soul mate cannot understand the problem at all.

"cause his not originally Kanata of our au." Kuma smiles as he drop the bomb. Everyone look at him in a BOOMBOZIL and bombastic eyes. "The Kanata Shinkai of MDD long have disappear from existence in favor of the stronger existence of the current one. " He explains. He remembers very well the words of that amongus fish boy from before.

That Kanata always says everything if his dear dollmaker ask for it, the problem is the stupid dollmaker doesn't ask that kind of information in daily basis.

"oh, that still doesn't explain why doll is drench still." Reaper is worried dolls going to end up sick after a while being a drench wet kitty for hours now.

"cause it keep raining when I calm back to my world. It was rainin pretty bad and it been like that for a long while." Doll explain finally calm down after being comforted by his friends.

"Some of da dolls were gone odd like mentally they weren't there." He remembers the dark sky and how it keep raining when he wakes up back to his own au, thinking everything in kkoma as a dream.

He heard from Rinne that the fish doll ( Kanata ) have taken the doll body that everyone work for and it was follow by Himeru, natsumi and the all first batch doll disappearance. The storm began when the last person -- Ritsu ( Kuma) disappear after that chat with Kanata.

When doll think about it. He realize his world seems to be frozen inside of a water, and endless rain.

Preserve for something. For someone in that moment. He wonder at times if his seeing colors around him as it seems to fade on black and white world.

He wonder what's really going on, he thought everything would come back to normal but it seems some stuff went different.

It was scary.... His world seems to be effected by something. He only understand a bit of it when an aira from another au come by and told him what happened since he was send to the au to fix some problem in the present of the time space.

' cause you accept help from some nutjob crazy lunatic that call himself a doctor. Now your au is in safe mode and it's only because of delulu hopeless furball from another world.

Your lucky that in our multiverse, love can make people do such weird shit and some of them are good.' he then proceed to hit doll in the head and the last sentence he heard is. ' go back to the world of kkomas for now. Even as a favor world, hateful one at that. I'm ask to help you by my flower.' then doll found himself in kkomas.

More confuse than ever. But more than that he was having a breakdown about it's his fault this happened. Kuma was around that time to comfort doll who doll realize knows what's up with the world and hence the current event.

[rimouskis]

I don’t even mean to get emo in a way but it’s crazy to think about just how he started so young. From the age of 7 and adults making him to cry to them being 15 and Don cherry of all people always making fun of him and alluding to horrible things about him and his sexuality all because he didn’t like the way he looked. Then him getting to the pros and once again all his opponents immediately going for him violently. I mean I remember when he got his teeth knocked out for the first time I think in 2007 or maybe 2006 commentators were laughing about it saying how finally he’d “keep his mouth shut”. All of that done before he even 20 years old, the abuse he took and he’s still a good person. I just think about that sometimes

I'm going to answer this question and a few others down below, just because they're pretty long!

absolutely. a big part of my interest in ~the rimouski years~ is because that really felt like a pressure cooker to me with the lockout, and how sid was the focal point of hockey media in north america due to it. that interest carried over into the big leagues, and I love, LOVE, sid's reputation as a whiner and a baby because it's such clear growing pains! even for a kid who was used to taking punishment on the ice, the transition to NHL-caliber roughness was hard for him, as was swallowing his protests when shit didn't get called.

for sure. I don't want to make it out like the crosbys were on the verge of poverty because of hockey, but they weren't well off, and I also find it interesting how that fact itself has contributed a lot to the "blue collar hero" characterization sid's gotten. part of that, I think, is due to the "pittsburghification" of him—pgh's history as a working class steel town is something that a lot of people, older yinzers especially, tend to cling to with a double-sided pride/shame. pride in the hard work and the distinction is offers them from yuppies, and also some shame about being the rust belt, about being a town that fell from grace when the industry collapsed, about being distinctly working class in a way that feels "lesser than" in comparison to common vacation spots along the east coast.

I think the nhl and the penguins very much wanted to blend sid's history into pgh's history seamlessly. if they could make him out to be a blue collar hero, well, then it would be fitting for him to wind up in a blue collar place. it's funny, considering he was a millionaire by the time he was 17. again: I don't want to deny his family's financial status growing up (from what I know, neither of his parents were college graduates and did not have "skilled" [extreme air quotes there] labor to sell), but sid hasn't been working class since he was in his teens. he's a multimillionaire now. more than that, he has now earned the most career earnings EVER in the NHL. he is very, very rich, and the fact that he's REMAINED a ~working class guy~ in terms of public perception and yinzers' protectiveness about him speaks VERY highly to both his + the pens' PR teams and his own humble nature.

it makes me laugh to think about the whole "he hasn't had media lessons!" argument troy put up only to have someone else in hockey say "yeah brisson totally coached him," haha. I think culturally hockey does place a lot of emphasis on "saying the right thing" in those sort of interviews, and sid's lifelong obsession with hockey probably meant he was already incredibly used to the language and speaking patterns.

about him chilling out though — part of that is absolutely age, but you know what I miss about rookieish sid? the fully-bellied laugh! the infamous "giggle-honk!" he doesn't do it as often (when he's recorded) anymore!

[khepiari]

Something is off with Crowley's Memories!

Originally written as re-blog post on a post by fuckyeahisawthat.

I will address Crowley here as, she/he/they, okay? It is by choice, not accident or errors. And I have elaborated my initial ideas here.

First of all, I know there are many theories going around, about memory erasure/memory editing thanks to the 16000 words doc. The doc surely is an eye-opener, I like what the author wrote there, it is interesting. Then we have the coffee theory vs religious trauma and finally the soul swap theory. I won't say I agree totally with any, but I like them all, but I do think memory erasure is part of heaven's crimes and thanks to Gabriel's arc, we know it has happened before. Hence, I think Crowley's memories are not in order.

Something is off with Crowley’s memories. It really is.

We just don’t realize it because he is flippant. And since he has spent 6000 years with Aziraphale, he has enough experiences and stories with them to keep us distracted from his pre-fall era. The Crowley we know is a post-fall creature; with new name, new skin and new job.

After reading the theories, I think the Minisode set in Scotland and later World War 2 are, in Aziraphale’s language— big clues.

Crowley doesn’t remember the details of the great war against god!

In season one she says she hung out with the wrong crowd, asked questions and canteen food was bad and next thing she knew she was being thrown down; again she said "she sauntered down and not fall."

Remember, when Furfur came to collect evidence he said to Crowley, “we fought side-by-side in the same war”, and Crowley clearly doesn’t recall fighting besides him. This can be them being a bitch, but it can also be them not recalling the things that happened in details.

As in, they remember the war like a casual a film-goer, who remembers the key events of the story but not the details of who did what and what actions lead to whose fall, like let's say a cinephile.

I read PTSD can often harm your memories in a way to protect your sanity. Is it Crowley's PTSD or Heaven's doing, we don't know, yet.

Initially I thought Crowley doesn't remember names and faces was because he is well Crowley, so he doesn't care about anything — and we know not caring for his side is part of a character trait. He doesn't give two flying fucks about his people.

But! But, but she remembers Wee Morag, with whom they barely spent an evening with! Crowley remembers having lunch in Paris in 1793 and that she owed it to Azirpahale! She remembers Aziraphale has been twittering in broken French for 250 years, or for how many years Aziraphale has been denying her holy water—105 years!

Yes, we can say it’s selective memory backed by love for Crowley.

But he actually doesn’t remember enough, or at least didn’t remember huge information for a while, I think. And he may have gained them back in patches, hence he could access the confidential files so easily and casually comment that he was not always a demon, implying he was an angel of higher rank!

She remembers that heaven doesn’t change passwords and how they function, but when Saraqael finds her and Muriel reading Gabriel’s files, they remember working the Angel Crowley on Horsehead Nebula, but she doesn’t remember, citing the excuse that she met many people. Yet, she remembers a password that's older than earth, but not people? Strange.

And when the Metatron arrived to the bookshop, neither Aziraphale, Michael, Uriel nor Saraqael recognized him, but he asked Crowley if he remembered him? And Crowley did, he remembered him from his floating head projection! How come he knows him and remembered? Hence, I am inclined to believe his memories are patchy, but strong enough to make him wary of Heaven’s follies.

Because during the Eden Garden Meeting, it did seem like Crowley was meeting Aziraphale for the first time. But now we know they met before the beginning, but he always refers to the angel he was as an identity he no longer accepts or has fond thoughts off.

The 2 season establishes a few things about Crowley; weather manipulation, time control, he resurrected Mr Brown without a struggle, who was in high rank pre-fall, creator/architect of the sky and someone who recognized Metatron with a single glance and when his miniscule powers are combined with Aziraphale they are damn too strong. That means she is older than the current lot of angels holding top office in heaven, and someone who was really powerful!

Now, if you are stripped of your core memories, and left to start from the scratch, would you like it if people kept reminding of your glorious past? I don’t think so. Just because it's Aziraphale, Crowley doesn’t mind them bringing it up.

And Crowley is the only one Demon who has changed their name, from Crawley to Crowley. We can infer the first name post-fall was given without their input, and we know this person doesn’t like being forced or boxed or typecast, so they changed it. They like being in control of the situation— question is why? They can never follow orders or plan, their base nature is to double-check, ask questions and improvise.

In the end, Crowley is a curious creator who thought everything thoroughly, and he is a person who enjoyed his creations. But post-fall, with a fractured mind he doesn’t invent or create or when he did his colleagues didn’t appreciate it like the M25 low-curse demonic circle! They only cared for it's genius way later, by that time it Crowley had stopped caring.

Rather, she channelled whatever energy she had as fear of Crowley into her plants, did the bare minimum for her job and slept for years when inconvenienced and rescued Aziraphale and had brunches.

Crowley no longer actively participates in their own life— they are third wheeling their own existence.

In season 2 his only objective was for him and Aziraphale to be left unbothered and avoid attention from both sides. To live in peace.

The talk with Gabriel not only brought out her hidden pain and fear of losing Aziraphale, because she experienced it once, but she can’t forget what it did it to her! She thought she lost Aziraphale to hell-fire! She stopped time when Aziraphale said they won’t talk to him ever again! Her entire existence as Crowley is tied to Aziraphale being there with her.

Crowley has filled the bookshop with fire extinguishers, electric candles, most probably thrown the match sticks as well — I know she did it.

It is fear and love, but also Crowley is angry at the thought of losing the only person who gives him a sense of permanence, especially the idea of losing them because of someone as useless and uncaring person as Gabriel; who has encroached into their fragile life— who Crowley clearly remembers tried to kill his best friend.

She knows it better than anyone, that Aziraphale is genuinely good, and heaven has done nothing to protect them or appreciate them. And it's further established when she says to Nina, Aziraphale is “far too pure”. Hence, she wants to punish Gabriel, after the talk with Nina made him realize what he feels for Aziraphale is love. He was doubly angry! 😭 Hence, she wants to punish Gabriel, she wants Gabriel to understand what and who they tried to take away from Crowley.

When Gabriel said he feels like an empty house— Crowley, sadly, knows that feeling, which makes him less hostile. He understands the helplessness of not being yourself; that means he has experienced being an empty house a long time. He also knew that if you forced someone hard enough, the memories would come back in bit's and pieces, which why he forces Gabriel twice to reveal his memories.

So how does he know? Because her memories have been stolen or erased or hidden. And she must have experienced this torturous process of recalling memories of the forsaken past. I think she has endured enough pain to get the summary of the past, but not the details, like Gabriel said, Crowley remembers where the furniture stood but not the material it was built with. And in this empty house-like existence only few people and things matter—Aziraphale, Bentley and Plants

Crowley is a demon who doesn’t want to lose the person who walked into his post-fall empty house and made it liveable again— which is Aziraphale.