#when someone is like ‘yeah being alive is the worst thing ever but you just have to suck it up’

[yourheartinyourmouth]

seriously can we talk about how fucked up it is that someone told my husband to divorce me just bc i am disabled and can’t power through incredible misery like NTs apparently can

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

You don’t get to tell me about sad

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a/n part two! Thank you for everyone who read the first one. So glad some of you liked it so much. 🫧🤍

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars

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“No threats, nothing," Azriel dropped the report down on the table. Rhys had been the one to go meet with Autumn’s high lord. Bringing back the reports of everything that had been happening the past three days. “Eris said that everyone still thinks she’s there," Rhys stated. They planned on spinning a lie about you visiting an old relative, but it was better if the people who had inflicted the first attack would be misled about your true location.

“This could have been a one-time thing," Cassian hums, flipping through the report himself. “Or someone is waiting for the right moment," Rhys links his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “Why her?”, Cassian frowns. Yeah, Azriel asked that too at first. You didn’t seem to be magically gifted. There was nothing special about you, as far as he was aware. “Eris said she’s a weak link," the spymaster muttered.

“They’re close? That would explain things," and Cassian was right there. Love might be the worst weapon to have. Once, it slipped into the wrong hands. Azriel let out a sigh.

“Considering how he delivered the news, he loves her a lot. I believe, besides Lucien, she’s the closest to him." If he was being truthful, he hadn’t given it much thought. Here in Velaris, he could leave you on your own devices for the most part, at least. He didn’t need to trail after you. There was no need. Azriel had eyes almost everywhere.

“We’ll figure something out. I will ask around to see if something is stirring." Rhys leans back, his eyes now fixed on Azriel, “How are you?”. Azriel tries to hold back to not roll his eyes. “I’ve been fine for two weeks ago." And he was. Yes, his left side still hurt. The scar was deep and rather long. Rapping around his ribcage. Not to mention that he had pulled the stitches out way too many times. “Don’t start this," Rhys says bluntly.

“I could be up at the camps doing what I do best," Azriel points out. Itching to pick this topic back up. “Dying in the snow?"—that was a straight blow from his brother. Rhys hadn’t been able to say it out loud for the first couple of weeks. The thought of Azriel dying had messed with his head. “I said no, so it’s a no. Plus, you have a new responsibility," Rhys states firmly, and Azriel knows that there is no use in nagging him any further. “Counting days till she’s out of my sight," he mutters beneath his breath, standing up to leave. He just forgot to mean the words he spoke.

Velaris was different from what you had imagined it to be. In a good way, but it still wasn’t home. The ever-green trees almost bugged you. It was all too alive. Too bright. You missed the deep oranges. The crunching of the leaves beneath your feet. Rhys tried to be a caring host by giving you an autumn-themed room, but that only left a bitter taste in your mouth. So even if you had been advised by their healer to keep all weight off your swollen ankle for a while, you still found yourself, pulling away the decorations and shoving away the autumn theme blankets, the little trinkets.

You tried to keep out of everyone’s hair. Choosing to take your food into your room. But the four walls were starting to drive you mad. You had tasted freedom, and you didn’t want to be back there. Locked up. Hidden. Forgotten. So when your eyes landed on the two males sparing in the front yard, you, of course, first observed them from your window. Watching through the curtains and then pushing back.

“You should be resting your leg," Azriel hadn’t even turned to face you when his voice found you. A slight smirk tugging at your lips. He had been avoiding you. Or maybe you were too full of yourself. Maybe he was just busy. There was no requirement for him to be at your side twenty-four-seven.

“You’re a shit bodyguard if you didn’t know that I've been doing just that for the past three days," you muse, stepping closer to the racks of weapons that line their training ground. Fingers l brushing over a set of onyx black daggers. “Madja said at least a couple of weeks," Azriel points out, reaching to rewrap his knuckles. “And I said that I'm bored, and now we are here," you purr, lifting one of the daggers, feeling out the weight as you twist your wrist. You could feel Azriel’s eyes. Watching you. Following your every move.

“Or you just wanted a closer look at this“, the male next to him, who you had come to learn was Cassian, smirks, gesturing to his bare chest. Abs glistening with sweat. Yeah, the view wasn’t bad. Autumn males, at least the ones you know, didn’t compare. “And I thought this one was full of himself." You hooked your thumb at Azriel, rolling your eyes.

He shakes his head, “Would it hurt you to say my name?”, "Yes, Mr. Tree, trunk up my ass." You give him the most obnoxious smile you could master. Earning a deep growl from the spymaster in return. Until your eyes landed on the wooden bow, neatly placed on the ground by the buckets of water. “I want to shoot arrows," you mutter, pointing to the weapon, making Azriel’s gaze follow suit.

He let out a small snort, “Have you ever held a bow in your delicate hands?”. That prick. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh, news flash, he is also a sexist,” you hiss. Rounding his side to reach for the arrows. “I just don’t want you falling and tripping once again, princess," he teases in an almost mocking tone. You step closer to him. You doubt that he finds you intimidating, considering that you need to look up to even meet his gaze. But your face stays ice cold as you point to the bow, “Give it to me." He doesn’t move at first. As if on purpose. Giving you extra time to look at him. His face. There is a light scar over his right eyebrow. It’s not all that visible. Unless you take your time to… but, your little daydream is cut short by a bow being shoved at your chest. You nearly lose your footing. And just like that, you are snapped out of your daze.

“Don’t start crying when you miss," Azriel says, too full of himself as always. Leaning on the side beam like a smug, fucking cat. Too bad you grew up among five arrogant males. Six if you include that sadist of a father. That’s enough for the amber to catch fire deep within your chest. You line the arrow up. Taking a deep breath. Eyes falling to the target at the edge of the field ahead. And then it’s muscle memory as you let it loose. The first one hit the bull's eye. A satisfied smile speeds on your face as you reach for the second and third. You’re petty like that. Not in the mood to give Azriel a chance to call it fool’s luck.

A loud chuckle fills your ears, and then someone is nudging your shoulder. “She handed you your ass on a silver plate, brother." Cassian’s laughter booms, and you can’t help but match his grin. “Choke on the dust," you muse, flipping him off as you twist away from him. But Azriel is quick as always, grasping your elbow as he spin you back. “Know your place," he says through gritted teeth. Nostrils flaring.

“Maybe you should show me my place," you mutter, crossing an x on his chest. You yank your hand from his grip, glancing at Cassian, “Put the dog on the leash." Azriel curses, making Cassian snort, before the general starts barking, moving to the side to tackle his brother. You shake your head, continuing to walk away. Only catching a faint warning from Azriel, “Don’t fucking encourage it.”

Azriel chose to leave you alone for the rest of the day. Yet he could deny it all he wanted, but the shots were clean. Not to mention that he was almost relieved that you had left your room. A burden or not, he didn’t want you just rotting between the four walls. So he’s not all that surprised when your figure steps out onto the balcony. A lantern in your hand. One that you carefully place on the ledge before placing your hand on the stones. Stepping on your tiptoes, leaning to look over the edge.

"Snooping", the sudden sound of his voice makes you jump, your elbow hitting the lantern and pushing it over the edge. “You’re insane. Absolute sociopath," you gasp, hand on your chest as you try to wipe the threat from your face.

“You’re pathetic if that made you scared," Azriel shrugs, stepping out for the shadows. It wasn’t pathetic. He knew that. If he didn’t want to be seen, no one would see him. So blaming this on you was lame, but he could excuse it. For now. “You’re a creep," you hiss, leaning over the edge to look for the broken glass, now scattered on the ground. “Who sits in the dark like that?”, you ask, shaking your head and pulling your ginger hair over to one side. Fidgeting with the ends. That’s a new habit, Azriel thinks to himself, one he hadn’t yet observed.

You just shake your head once you don’t receive an answer from him. Eyes darting up the sky. It’s almost pitch black. The last traces of orange and deep purple are coloring the very edges of the horizon. “The sky is beautiful here as well," you breathe out. Not sure why. It felt stupid to get sentimental with that crazy man behind you. “It is," Azriel admits, forcing his eyes from your frame to lift to the sky. But the stars only manage to hold his attention for so long. Before they glance right back down at you, Azriel can’t tell from your face, but he feels the wave of sadness crashing into his chest.

And not even a heartbeat later you speak up again. “I usually take walks with the dogs in the evening, so... old habits die hard. I feel the itch." It’s an almost bitter chuckle that slips past your lips as you speak. Azriel walks close to the railing. “I feel the same if I don’t get to work late at night," he’s not sure why he’s even saying that. Admitting something that you don’t need to know. Or probably care to know. Your nose screeches up. “That’s a weird thing to like," you mutter. Azriel rolls his eyes, “Stomping through the woods isn’t any better.”

The breeze picks up. Chasing the last bits of warmth away. Making you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, but you don’t step back. Don’t move to head inside. “So, you’re a working late and sleep-in type of guy," you mutter. Azriel realizes it then. You’re here because you don’t want to be alone. Force-pushing the conversation to keep someone else in your company. Flashes of the basement flicker through his mind.

“No, I wake up early," he answers, a heartbeat too late, and yet you’re still nodding along. “So, no sleep type of guy," you mutter beneath your breath. The darkness is now fully draping over you two. Hiding you both from the world. “And you’re a talk just to listen to yourself speak type of girl," Azriel points out, making you huff. “And here, I thought we were having a moment." He watches as you turn around, shaking your head. “Jumping to conclusions kind of girl too," he says firmly, and this time it’s enough to drag a little chuckle from your lips as your head falls back ever so slightly.

But the distant pain doesn’t leave your eyes when you glance back at him. “Did Eris say anything by any chance?”, you mutter. A part of Azriel considers lying. Twisting the truth. A white lie. But he can’t bring himself to. Too many people were already keeping you in the dark, so he mutters a quiet, "No." Watching as you nod way too eagerly at his answer, “Of course, delighted to get rid of the troublemaker," there was that pained smile at the end as you finally chose to spread the distance between you two. “Lucien is coming tomorrow, though," Azriel points out, your tense shoulders easing ever so slightly. You don’t say anything as you reach for the glass door.

“Are you going to sleep?”, Azriel asks, almost cringing himself out. What was this sound of desperation? He didn’t fucking care what you did. “Not yet. I will walk in the garden for a bit." You gesture to the fields wrapping around the house. Azriel nods firmly, “Keep to the upper parts; don’t go past the rose garden if you get by the white... ”, “Okay, okay, mother... Tie me to your chair and watch me wilt away while you’re at it," you huff, your lips thinning into a tight line. “I’ll finish some work and come to do a room sweep," the spymaster says in an almost demanding manner. You simply raise your hand to your forehead, saluting him with a quiet “Yes, sir," before disappearing into the house.

It took Azriel way longer to get through his usual routine. He liked his office tidy for his morning working session. So at night, even if he was tired to his bones, he made the effort to sort through every pile of documents. Arrange them neatly. When he finally made it up to the top floor, where your room was located, it was well past midnight. Azriel knew that he could just drop it. He didn’t have to show up and check the room. Yet he still stood there right by your door.

"Princess," he knocked gently, not really in the mood to startle you once again tonight. You might be small and fierce, but everyone has a limit. When no response follows, he tries again: "Yn, it’s Azriel, can I come in?”, but still nothing. He could just walk in, but you weren’t a prisoner per se. “This is your last warning," he says, waiting for a heartbeat before pushing onto the handle.

It was dead quiet in the room. He would have concluded that you might not have returned yet if not for the mess that your bed was. He frowns slightly. Following the line of blankets that lead to the fireplace. And here you are. Curled by the fire, all the blankets dragged from the bed. Piles of books scattered all around you. He didn’t know that you had gone to the library. Or maybe this was Nesta’s doing. In that case, he didn’t wish to find out what was written in them. Azriel scannes the room. His eyes fell on the pens and pencils on the table. A sketchbook. A strange feeling kindled in Azriel’s chest. He has a pad just like that. Kept it in his leathers. So if he feels the urge or if something captures his attention begging to be sketched, he could easily do so.

Azriel steps closer, trying not to leave evidence of looking through your stuff. It makes him uneasy just how close you are to the fireplace, but then. Flame calls to flame. He knows that he should turn away. Just leave you be. There’s no danger here. He knows it. But he finds himself stepping forward, kneeling by your body. He hasn’t seen you so peacefully innocent before. He only knew the frowning, tantrum-throwing princess.

Tilting his head to the side, he tries to drink your features in. You were a Vanserra. The resemblance to Eris and Lucien was there. But a much softer version. With freckles all over your face. Long eyelashes. Your hair was more ginger than fire-red. But then his gaze halted. Your left shoulder was bare. The very top of your breast... a scar. It was a scare that made him halt. On your collarbone. And then two lines going beneath your shirt. Azriel’s scowl only deepened at the sight of one more white line at the side of your throat. “What did they do to you?", he mutters quietly. But it’s enough to make your eyes snap open as you jolt up. And once again, there’s a dagger aimed at Azriel’s throat, this time from the side. The very tip pressing into his flesh.

“What the fuck?", you huff, lowering your hand. “That’s a much better aim. You’re learning fast, princess." Azriel tries to keep his face cool as he steps back. Standing tall. “Why are you here standing over me like that?”, you scowl, pulling the blanket tighter over your shoulders.

“I just came to check the room," Azriel says, moving his gaze to the window. Anything was better now than looking into your burning eyes. “And decided that you can just let yourself in," you say, pushing to stand up. “You were on the floor by the fire; who knows, maybe you were lying there dead?", Azriel bits back, gesturing at the mess you had created. It was embarrassing that he had seen it. No one was supposed to see it. A bitter laugh slips past your lips, “You wish that would be...", and in a blink of an eye, he is there. Inches away from you. Hand reaching for your hair. No doubt he had thought about just yanking it back but decided against it at the last minute.

“Don’t finish that," he says, opting for a warning finger once more. As if he’s scolding a child. “Or what?", you flash your teeth at him. Pretending to bite the very tip of his finger. “You love picking fights, huh?", he straightens, smothering his hair back. The slight curls falling over his forehead. “You love changing the subject, huh?”, you mock back in the same tone. “You might just be one of the most frustrating things that came out of autumn," and you can see that he probably didn’t even mean to say it out loud. But he did. And now you two were standing in the aftermath of it. Your hands curling into fists. “Thing...", you smile at him, “How sweet of you; ladies probably drop their pants for that," and here it was that cold, cold look on your face. "Out," you hiss, now pointing Azriel to the door. Dismissing him.

The next morning is rather awkward. Azriel finds you in the sunroom of the house. Your legs tugged beneath you. You don’t lift your head, and he says nothing. Taking his usual spot by the window to drink his coffee. It unsettles him. The silence. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s some creepy stalker. Maybe you both should settle the ground rules. Talk about the situation. But once he finally finds the courage to open his mouth, the door opens. A gasp slips past your lips as you jump up, rushing to the male standing in the doorway.

"Luci," you breathe, wrapping your arms around your brother’s neck. The warmth he carried seeping into your body. “My little flicker," he mutters against your hair, leaving a couple of kisses on the side of your head. "Azriel," Lucien nods in acknowledgment. Azriel follows his movement. “I’ve got it from here”, Luci smiles at the spymaster, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“What’s going on?”, you mutter against his chest, refusing to let go. “What did Eris say?”, your brother asks, and it’s enough to make you pull back. “I don’t give a fuck about what he said," you grunt. “I want to know what you know," you demand. You have a full right to. Lucien holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a tired sigh, “We will be heading back for a bit." You shake your head, turning away from him.

“I will tell you as soon as I can, I promise," he says as he steps forward, holding you by your shoulder as he lowers his forehead to lean against you.“Why are we going back?” It’s a whisper, but blood runs thicker than water. And you need to stick together, as you always did. Even if you still don’t understand anything, “There is a public outing. He needs us by his side." That makes you chuckle, “I also needed him by my side in case anyone was wondering.”.

"Yn," Lucien sighs, but you shake your head. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for him." It’s selfish, you know that. But they had sworn to protect you, and this feels like the opposite of it. “He’s figuring this out too; be kind," Lucien mumbles, pulling your hands into his and squeezing them. “Come on, you’ll get to watch the joy on Azriel’s face when I tell him that he’ll have to spend a couple of nights in autumn," he nudges you, making you smile ever so slightly, “Now that I can get behind”.

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Taglist: @emryb

[mintaikk]

Why Morpherine should be canon

Remember: all of these are just MY opinion. In all honesty, I just want Morph's feelings for Lpgan to addressed instead of just burying it immediately. That's all I'm asking, I'm not even asking them to get into a relationship. Morph's VA even agrees that Morpherine doesn't even need to be canon, and that their friendship should be explored more. But, these are just my reasonings on why it would be good for morpherine to be canon.

It would put an end to the not love triangle between Jean, Scott, and Logan

Love triangle has been going on for a while now, and I think we're all sick of it. I like that it let's us see a softer side of Logan, but Jean isn'tinterested! She's been with Scott since high school, and there's no way in Hell that she is going to leave him.

What sucks to me is that the fact that nothing has really been where he develops abd is able to get over his crush. I get it. Feelings are hard, and they don't go away. But, nothing is going to be done with this except useless pining and have Jean kiss him for some fucking reason. I literally just want Logan to get over Jean. That's it. He gets over Jean, and find someone thar actually likes him in that way.

And that's Morph bcuz the entire post is about :).

It already has good buildup

Half of this section was just stolen from a post made by @waywardsou2 bcuz I haven't watched the original series in a while and they put it perfectly lol.

Morph and Logan were best friends, with Logan famously saying that, "He [Morph] is the only one that could ever make me laugh." But (in literally the first episode lol), Morph dies protecting Logan from a sentinel. And Logan was fucking PISSED. He didn't like Scott before, but I think Morph dying contributed to his dislike for him even more, since he believes that Scott's decision is the reason that his best friend was killed. He then goes to grieve and then later avenge Morph ("This one's for you, Morph!" Slayed so hard with that line tbh). Later, when they find out that Morph is alive, but under Sinister's control, Logan is the first one to offer and go out to rescue them, even though they all think that Morph betrayed them. He says that "He's the only one that could ever make me laugh", quote and also mentions that he's "not giving up on him again." When Logan goes to talk to Morph, the purple around Moeph'a eyes dissappear, and only return when Logan isn't around, so they're already shown to be pretty close.

Another thing is that when Morph and Logan are fighting, Morph turns into Sabretooth and Jean to get under Logan's skin. It's already and open secret among the X-men thst Logan has feelings for Jean, but he hadn't told anyone about Sabretooth. Morph turning into Sabretooh implies that Logan gold Morph about him. I find it sweet that Logan trusted Morph enough to tell them about Sabretooth.

Morph wanted to get revenge on the rest of the team, but with Logan, they just explained what they were going through. And Logan understands them because he wants them to feel better.

And then, in X-men 97, they're just attached by the hip and are literally always seen together. Morph cheers Logan up when he's upset, Morph is always the first one to save him, etc. They're even like this in the comic, being the first one to notice that Wolvie is upset during Scott and Jean's baby shower.

Oh yeah, the thing that made me go "HOLD UP" and got me into this ship: Morph's (confirmed) love confession to Wolverine.

And that fuckass shower scene.

We could just leave it at that, but I'm a fanfic reader and writer, meaning that I latch onto ANY angst I can find. So, here's the stuff this scene implies.

-The illusion of Logan was made by Mr. Sinister when he was bringing out the worst fears of the X-men. And Morph’s worst fear? Logan finding out their feelings for him, and Logan finding them repulsive

-Mr. Sinister is aware of Morph's feelings for Logan, which implies they've had feelings for him for a while now

Those two things are very important for me, and just adds to their relationship more. Imagine a scene where Morph tells Logan expecting him to be grossed out by him, but instead, Logan accepts them and hugs them or smthn. I'd honestly cry if I saw that.

Happy ending for the gays :D

So, so many stories of unrequited gay love or "burying your gays." I don't think they're gonna kill Morph as a lot of their time was spent being dead, but I can see them being rejected by Wolvie. Which is completely fine! Again, I'm not saying that they need to be together! Having a scene like this or this would be great!

But also, I think a lot of people are just tired of having gays get unhappy endings in media, be that rejection for a straight relationship or just straight up dying. Morph's VA believes that it's important to have a gay character be rejected by a straight guy since it's happened to so many people in real life, and I do agree with it! But also, this is fiction, and escapism, and goddamnit, people just want their favorite characters to be happy!

Good queer rep

Imma br so fr: Marvel shows and movies are shit when it comes to queer representation. It's getting better, but it's still shit. It's either a one-off comment or queerbaiting. Apparently, Loki is genderfluid? That's great! Would've been nice to actually see! Bucky Barnes is implied to be bisexual (he mentioned a lot of tiger photos on Tinder, tiger photos are mostly posted by men, it implies he was looking at men's profiles on tinder) but again, that's only implied, and you gotta dig deep to realize it, so really, only people who are actively looking or are in those communities know. America Chavez is gay, (haven't read her comics, but I think she's also gay in the comics :D), but I didn't even know that until I saw it on the wiki. I don't feel like going through all of it, so here are some links to posts that talk about it. Link 1, Link 2, Link 3

Honestly, it'll boils down to wanting to appease the cishet male audience.

X-men is a bit different though, as the series was literally MADE to be woke. Like, here's a post I made that talks about it bcuz I don't feel like repeating myself. Except Marvel shows are cowards, so they'll probably tone-down the wokeness. Smthn about "Wolverine can't be queer bcuz he's mainstream" and they gotta appease that cishet audience! Except that's exactly WHY it would be great for Wolvie to be in a queer relationship! Because he's mainstream! He's already a super popular character, and having him be queer would be great, because a lot of queer people will look up to a character that they already liked before! Straight men have a shit ton of characters that represent them. What's wrong with queer men having a character thar can represent them? Same with lesbians, bisexuals, trans people, literally anyone under the queer umbrella.

I latched onto Morph so heavily because they're nonbinary and gender-nonconforming, which matches my gender expression so heavily. And if I can be so extremely happy with a character that gets a couple minutes of screen time being queer, imagine how happy people will be when a main character whose in a queer relationship gets even more screen time?

Also, Wolvie dated the literal actually Hercules in one comic. Don't come at me yall, it can happen.

And if Marvel wants to add queer rep but is still shy about it, Morph would be a great start. It's like putting little kids into the shallow end of the water because the deep end is scary.

Morph only exists in the X-men cartoon and Exiles comics. Unless you're this tiny community on tumblr, no one gives a shit about Morph. When people think about their nostalgia for X-men 92, no one thinks of Morph. Their ass literally DIED in the first episode, wasn't even in the goddamn intro, and only appeared for like, 6 episodes, and they didn't even exist in the comics. So, paring up with Wolverine would be the "safe" option. It wouldn't be like pairing up Bucky with Sam or Cap (no matter how many people would love that), because no one knows who Morph even is. People would say, "Oh, Wolverine got with Morph!" and most people would reply with, "Who?" Safer option so less people get mad. Just dipping a foot into the pool of queerness, lol.

Yeah, it sucks that there has to be a "safe" option, but I'm also very attached ti this ship and Marvel needs to learn that queerness isn't some evil thing that drives away customers.

Tldr; Morpherine should be canon bcuz It would put an end go the Jogan love triangle, it already has good buildup, it leads to a happy ending for the gays,

[myuminji]

Just a comic about two people catching up again [Angel AU]

[ID: A Trigun comic of Wolfwood after his death in Trigun Maximum.

Abbreviated ID: Wolfwood is now an angel with wings and a halo tied to his grave. He cannot be seen or heard by others, but Livio visited his grave and mostly filled him in on the finale, and Wolfwood waits for Vash to show up. When he does, Wolfwood is stunned and worried by his black hair, though he deems Vash fine when he pulls out drinks for them both.

Vash pours the drinks and talks. He confesses that he killed someone and calls himself a coward and the worst, apologizing for being selfish and not saving Wolfwood. Wolfwood angrily shouts that everything was his decision, and Vash is an idiot for blaming himself.

He says that Vash has done so much for Wolfwood and for others, and he calls Vash brave. Vash falls asleep with tears in his eyes, but he seems lighter when he wakes up. Vash leaves, promising to return, and Wolfwood says that he'll "watch him from afar... again." The title is "#1 'What happened to your hair?'". Full ID below readmore in 21 paragraphs.

The comic starts with a dark, noise-filter panel of the Punisher being used as Wolfwood's gravestone, with the quote "Nicholas D. Wolfwood has died" written over it.

Below that is Wolfwood, who has wings and a halo. He sits pensively and narrates, "At least, that's what everyone has come to believe, including me. Yet here I am, still roaming on this damn barren planet... But I wouldn't say I'm quite alive anymore. Since I couldn't feel hunger or thirst like I used to." He thinks, "'Ghost,' like those horror stories was it?"

He narrates over sketchy panels of himself frowning while floating next to his grave and yelling at Livio. "There, are other things I found that fits the term, like how I can't bring myself to far too far from my grave, or how others can't see me at all." We see Livio tearing up and saying "Nico-nii..." while Wolfwood furiously waves his arms and shouts, "I am!! Here!!!!"

Livio is shown speaking with a teary smile while Wolfwood leans against Punisher and listens. Wolfwood says, "Livio is the first and only person I've met so far. And luckily, he was quite a storyteller. I was able to get a grasp of the situation, and its aftermath. And what happened to him in the end."

Livio smiles and says, "It's been three months ever since... But even if we couldn't get ahold of him now, I'm sure he'll come back to you someday." Wolfwood narrates, "—And knowing that idiot, he probably would."

A close-up of Vash's coat in the wind as Wolfwood narrates, "So it didn't come as a surprise to me when he visited my grave. I'd even thought up of things to say when we meet again. Everything was thrown out of the window when he appears, of course. I could vividly remember the one question that burns in my head..."

Wolfwood looks shocked as Vash, hair fully black, waves cheerfully, "Yo! It's been a while, hasn't it? Wolfwood." Below the two floats the question: "#1 'What happened to your hair?'"

Wolfwood sweats, "Spikey, your hair. Doesn't it mean... Are you okay???" Vash smiles sheepishly, "Ah, I hope you're not mad I didn't come sooner, don't haunt me please..." Wolfwood shouts, "That's not the problem right now!!" Vash pulls something out and exclaims, "But look what I got for you!! Alcohol!!!" Wolfwood shouts, "What sort of person do you see me as!?"

Vash excitedly pulls out a bottle and two shot glasses. "It's not the only reason why I'm late, but it did took me a month to hunt this down... I recall you said you wanted to try them, right?" Wolfwood buries his face in his hands and says, "Where the hell are your priorities... You know what, yeah. I'm not gonna ask anymore since you look fine."

Vash smiles a bit tiredly and says, "Hmm,, I'm glad this place hasn't turn to ruins yet~ I've still got lots I need to tell you that's happened out there! And I thought it's better to talk about it with drinks on the side…" He clinks two glasses together. "So, cheers! ..."

He and Wolfwood are both awkwardly silent, and Vash sweats and frowns nervously. Then he pours a glass onto the ground, and Wolfwood furiously shouts, "D'ya really expect me to drink off the ground!? Stupid needle noggin!!!!!"

Vash laughs sheepishly, and he speaks via empty speech bubbles while Wolfwood listens, drinking with a small smile. Vash says, "... And when that happened I..." He drops his gaze and says between long pauses, "I..... When that happened......" Wolfwood watches him seriously as he says, "... Say. Wolfwood, is this how you've felt all the time?"

Vash looks down sadly. "You I see, I... killed someone in the end." He laughs, eyebrows drawn in. "I guess you're right. I am bound to choose someday." He takes another sip, then downs it and falls backwards. "Isn't it funny? That I've called you a coward once for killing... But guess who's the coward now~? It's always been me, isn't it?"

Vash lies on his back and laughs. "... Haha. I wonder if you're laughing too. I really am the worst, aren't I?" Wolfwood looks down as Vash continues, "You've done so much for me, but all I've caused you are troubles. I was selfish, always chasing after my own goals... That you couldn't ask for my help. That I couldn't save you. Just what kind of friend am I?"

Vash scrubs his eyes with an arm and says shakily, "Sorry... Wolfwood... I'm so sorry..." A close-up panel of his mouth shows Wolfwood saying, "... Just so you know--" Expression unimpressed, he exclaims, "There's no way in hell I'm accepting that lousy apology! You drunkard!"

He stands up and seems to kick Vash, who's still on the ground and mostly out of sight. Wolfwood demands, "Why are you even sorry for something like that, huh?? I chose my own path. It was all my decision! How many times do I say it to get it stick in that thick head of yours? Stop. Blaming. Yourself. For the things. You've not done. Idiot! Stupid spikey hair!!"

Vash's face is cut off, but a tear in his eye can be seen as he weakly says, "... oof.. wood..." Wolfwood looks tired and sighs, "... Ha... Don't feel bad about me. Until when will you realise just how much you've done for us? You've done more than enough for me, Needle Noggin."

The perspective zooms out to focus on the sky and two moons, including the fifth moon. Wolfwood's wings and the Punisher can just be seen at the bottom. Wolfwood says, "And you're brave, to go against what you've been taught your whole life. You're not a coward. You faced them until the end. So don't sell yourself short like that next time, okay?" We see Vash's face, smiling with tears in his closed eyes. Wolfwood concludes: "I'll get mad."

Wolfwood narrates, "—He passed out right after for the whole night on the cold ground. I realised how little I could help in the situation." He tries to drape his coat over Vash, sweating, and wonders, "Wouldn't it just pass through ...?"

Time passes, and Vash gets up with a sneeze and rubs his eyes. Wolfwood watches him with his eyebrows raised, and Vash laughs quietly and a bit nervously. Wolfwood narrates, "As if he'd heard my voice, a burden seems to be lifted off his shoulder when he woke up. That, or maybe he'd forgotten what happened last night. He was quick to take his leave right after.

"And so, Vash the Stampede went on a journey with a promise." Vash waves goodbye, turning to leave with his bag in hand. "I'll be sure to bring back more stuff next time!! See you later!" Wolfwood concludes, "While I watch him from afar... again." Wolfwood sits below the Punisher and waves back, saying with bemusement, "Has he never heard the phrase 'do not disturb the death?' He really throws me off..." The title is named, and it says "/ END." End ID]

[link to Image ID reblog post!]

[libraryraccoon]

Kk so I am too lazy to write on my own but I have come up with a pretty good day dream scenario that you can write for ( I might also do it but maybe not).

But a police officer with a strong sense of justice goes to hell and starts trying to organize after spawning in one of the worst areas in hell, even the overlords are hesitant to go in there. But as they gain more and more power the area to clean up expands.

Their really not a bad person , one of the only reasons their there is because they had premarital sex . ( They banged someone's wife when drunk).

Was killed by the husband by a shot in the chest. Now resemble a fox because of their wit and inganuty.

( in sry if it's too specific but you can cut out anything u don't want)

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Message from Raccoon : I try to write a police officer!reader, but i'm pretty sure it's bad.

TW : Reader is in Hell 2 years before the series, 🟣 (one time mentionned), violence.

General Headcanon

In your lifetime you were a police officer, and a good one at that.

But unfortunately, one day you died and arrived in hell.

The person you loved was cheating on their partner with you. They didn't like it and killed you.

You are now in Hell.

Hell sorely lacked justice, but it's okay, you will rectify it.. :)

Vox didn't like you. Like, really.

He heard about you after you nearly beat Valentino to death.

Why did you beat Valentino ? Because he was a 🟣, forcing people to prostitute themselves, and more.

You also beat Velvette a bit because she created the love potions.

So yes, he didn't like you.

He start to hate you when you broke his head/tv when you saw him manipulating people..

It's hell ! What did you expect ?! Everyone manipulates !

A violent police officer. This is what you were.

You killed everyone who did things against your morals... in one month you killed more than the exterminators ever did.

Adam sees you as a sort of rival/person on his level.

Alastor find you entertained.

You were the only one in Hell with a moral, so you were interesting.

He also finds it very interesting that you manage to beat 3 Overlords and that 2 Overlords (Carmilla and Zestial) consider you their equal.

He wanted to come talk to you, but he decided not to after seeing you kill a demon with an angelic weapon because they were cannibals.

Compared to what you might think, he have a sense of self-preservation.

When you arrived at the hotel, as part of security, Alastor was a little scared..

Especially when you pointed your gun at his forehead, where the hunter had shot, killing him when he was alived.

Bonus point if you are a dog demon, he is really scared and wonders if you want to reproduce his death.

Husk love you and love the fact that you can scared Alastor, he live for seeing that man being your victim.

Niffty love you, she think you are a real bad boy ! RIP

You and Vaggie get along well, you both know that not everyone can be redeemed (looking at Alastor from a distance) and you know how fucked up Hell is.

But you help Charlie because some still have a chance to redeem themselves (looking discreetly at Sir Pentious).

Sir Pentious was afraid of you at first, but in the end he start to like you.

You always get him out of the worst situations, I can imagine that you saw Vox try to use his power on Sir Pentious when he was a 'spy', and you directly destroyed the watch by throwing a knife at it.

Sir Pentious didn't even notice you were here-

After that, a long conversation followed about why we should not harm the Hotel and its residents and avoid the Vees.

Sir Pentious thanked you very much for that by the way.

After that Vox received a little visit from you..

If it wasn't for Charlie stopping you from killing him, he would have died instead of just being injured/broken.

Vox spent a week in repair/hospital.

Angel Dust adores you.

Every time you accompany him to work, strangely Valentino gives him the day off..

Yeah, he takes you with him whenever you can.

Even if you hate the Overlords, you are one of them.

Overlord D/N (demon name), the Police Officer of Hell.

Carmilla loves it when you are at meetings, the other Overlords (*cough* Vees *coughs*) are always calm when you are here.

You 🤝 break into Lucifer's house.

Yeah, because well before the hotel, 3 days after your arrival, you break into Lucifer's house.

Why ? Because you found unacceptable that he didn't manage Hell and let the demons do all they want.

You didn't expect to find yourself faced with a depressed father whose wife left 5 years ago and who he no longer really has contact with his daughter.

You had to play therapist and friend.

Literally you were giving him therapy sessions in exchange of him letting you stay at his house.

You don't even have a degree in therapy.

Lucifer considers you as his lifeline. He clings to you for dear life, metaphorically and literally.

Hurt this man and the next day you will find his corpse-

Is this a healthy friendship ? No, but are you going to ignore this fact and pretend everything is normal ? Yes.

You have changed his point of view on demons, in the sense that some, not all but some, can be redeemed.

I headcanon that you repaired Charlie and Lucifer's relationship, and that before the series.

Greatest dad didn't happen, sorry everyone.

[signedkoko]

SPOILERS?? MAYBE

Wife!reader waiting for Alastor in his Radio tower after the final big battle, knowing he'd go there and waiting for him there, Scolding him and angry at him, Talking about how worried they were and how they saw everything. But then it turns fluffy at the end :3

Alastor X Reader [Romantic]

In which you lost track of him during the battle, so you wait in his tower hoping he made it. Reader is female.

The battle had been planned over the series of a day, everyone practicing and learning how to defend themselves

Being an overlord and promised watcher over the hotel, Alastor was of course given a tall order; he was to take care of Adam

While he acted as if it were nothing and swept it by as if it'd be another easy task, you weren't so confident in his abilities against such a powerful angel

Not that you didn't trust him, just that it's scary to think he'd be doing it all alone

Though you offered support, he outright refused it

" Can't have you in the way! You are just so distracting! "

Yeah right

As much as you wanted to protest, you knew he wouldn't budge on it

But as Adam parted the battle and Alastor was nowhere to be seen, you assumed the worst along with everyone else

He'd been killed so easily? Certainly not, would he really give up his life like that? Your anger boiled up in you as you fought, and it carried you past your limit until everything was rubble

While you had the chance, you quickly whisked away to his tower, which now lay broken in the soil, though still partially intact

You had to kick the door a few times before it finally broke open, having been blocked by some debris

You hoped to all gods that you'd see him in there, but it was as silent and empty as you dreaded

You figure Husk would have said something if he felt his chains come loose, though, so you crawled up into the chair which he normally sat to broadcast and waited

And waited

Until finally, your looped prayer was answered when he came limping through the hatch

You could tell he was panicking or overwhelmed; you weren't entirely sure what, but you scrambled towards him

" Alastor! You're okay- "

" Get away from me. "

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him with bewilderment

He'd never sounded like that, especially not towards you, it frustrated you beyond belief that he refused you at a time like this

" No, no! I thought you died out there! All because you thought you could handle things on your own when you clearly cannot! "

Hot tears welled in the corner of your eyes, the silence only intruded by creaking, and the sound of your hissing breaths

It took him a moment, but the overlord straightened himself out, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he soaked in your reply

It wasn't fair of him to say that to you, and you were right, but something in him felt so shaky; his smile felt more forced than ever; he felt as if his wings had been clipped

" Dearest, you know me better than anyone, but unfortunately, there are things I cannot tell you—even if I want to. "

You knew he was bound by someone and chained, and as he spoke with such a lost desperation, you couldn't help but cry harder as the guilt consumed you

" I'm just glad you're alive. "

While you stood with what felt like an infinite space between you, the crackle in the air started to come back to him, which followed with his arms reaching out to you

You found yourself burying yourself in them, clinging to his shirt until your knuckles strained, and you cried

With no one else around to witness it, he wrapped his arms around you, ensuring you were secure

He'd do whatever it took to find a way out, so he could promise you an eternity by his side

Author's Note - Finally got to your req 🖤 Its so lovely to see you in my inbox, Lilith!! Thank you for requesting 🥂

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Ghost!Jackie Headcanons

pairing: Jackie Taylor x r note: I'm not sure what this is either 🤷

Jackie being a pain in your ass beyond the grave. maybe not getting on with her super well while she was alive, so while her death was sad, it wasn’t nearly as emotionally devastating as it was for Shauna or someone else. so when you suddenly start seeing Jackie standing behind Shauna and trying to get her attention as she sobs over Jackie’s corpse, you wonder why you of all people would “hallucinate” her.

she finally notices you can see her when you can’t quite muffle your laugh at some petty comment she makes as the girls start carrying her body off to the meatshed. her eyes immediately narrow in on you while you’re just standing like a deer in the headlights.

just thinking about Shauna out there sobbing and crying in the meatshed with Jackie's corpse while Jackie's screaming in your ear because you won’t respond to her and she knows your ass can see her. at the top of her fucking lungs like a damn toddler. keeps switching into songs that give Crystal and Misty a run for their money on being annoying. holding a pillow over your head and groaning to drown her out, and Lottie’s trying to put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, thinking it's hunger pain or something.

she doesn’t talk as much as she did before—not that she ever really talked to you all that much to begin with. Jackie stares after Shauna a lot, following her around and trying fruitlessly to get her to hear her. she’s quiet a lot now, but if she’s not at Shauna’s side, she’s at yours. 

you finally give up and start answering her whenever you’re mostly alone, claiming it’s just because you’ve accepted that you’re crazy now—though it’s mostly because she just looks so damn sad all the time. she brightens up a lot after this, following you like a lost puppy as you find the emptiest corners of the room to sit in. the other girls sometimes catch you talking to yourself, but with how everyone else is doing, they don’t bother to be concerned about it.

makes it her mission to annoy you as much as humanly possible, commenting on every little thing you’re doing like she’s a game show host. if you have to listen to Jackie narrate the way you eat one more time, you might just join her. always finds the worst time to jump out at you, giggling as she makes you look insane for screaming in shock in the middle of the cabin.

Jackie knocks stuff over whenever the other girls start talking shit about Shauna’s behavior in the meatshed. she doesn’t talk a lot about what Shauna does there, but she always looks strangely flattered when she comes back.

keeps you up to date on all the little drama’s going on in the cabin that you don’t witness. there’s literally no stopping her from eavesdropping on conversations and giving you a play-by-play as they happen. sometimes you just hear a dramatic gasp as her ghostly ass is skipping over to you to tell you about it.

bullies you into giving some of your food to Shauna. Shauna looks at you like you’re crazy but eagerly accepts it all the same. Jackie is standing there looking so proud of herself, like she’s the one that’s going to be starving and not you.

you have weird dreams almost every night. they aren’t unpleasant, just a little strange. they’re always about Jackie, always in places you think she would’ve enjoyed. walking around the mall, passing the ball around on the field, that sort of thing. you don’t think much of it until Jackie mentions something in passing one day about it.

guilt trips you into doing things for her all the time. “Do you remember that time you let me go outside and die in the snow?” and then “yeah, that’s what I thought.” when you roll your eyes and go do it.

thinking about Jackie’s emotions bleeding over onto you. Jackie’s always felt everything so strongly, and this only seems to get worse after she’s died. you can literally feel her longing so strongly that it’ll wake you up in the middle of the night, just to find Jackie staring at you with the softest little look. you aren’t sure how to feel about it at first, but it’s better than feeling her grief.

who’s going to tell the dead girl she can’t have a little crush after all? besides, it’s not like you’re uninterested: Jackie’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. it’s a strange dynamic, but it’s not like either of you have a lot of options out here.

just as possessive, even in death. starts getting incredibly jealous whenever you talk to someone who’s alive. Nat’s asking if you’ve seen her headband and the fucking door slams open against the wall. you weren’t even aware she could do something like that. you can feel her eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as the whole room starts to get cold if anyone goes near you besides Shauna.

she always tries to touch you, but most of the time you can’t feel it. the only time you can is when she gets particularly emotional. a hand closing around your wrist and almost pulling you away when she gets particularly jealous about something, a finger brushing away your tears when you can’t help but cry, etc.

Jackie can’t really do much else, so she resorts to a lot of compliments. she compliments your three layers of random shirts like it was an actual fashion choice, and you finally have to draw the line. just thinking about Jackie complimenting you and then sitting cross-legged in front of you like “and now me,” all expectant.

[lgbtlunaverse]

It seems the dash has been talking about the Lan Xichen - Nie Huaisang post-canon dynamics and it's gotten me thinking about how discussion around post-canon Lan Xichen's absolutely horrendous mental state often center around the question of "who is Lan Xichen angry at and who does he feel guilty about" which, at its worst, seperates into 2 camps where according to one side he feels guilty about not protecting jgy and hates the Nies and, on the other side he has completely flipped on jgy and despises him now while being filled with regret towards both nmj and nhs.

And I dislike both of these takes not just because it often feels like people projecting their own Blorbo opinions onto Lan Xichen which is never a fun time but also because that central question is flawed to begin with. It treats anger and guilt like opposing emotions that can't coexist or, if they do, have to compete until one wins and cancels the other out.

And that's not how that... works.

To be clear, the reason why Lan Xichen is so supremely fucked up at the end of the story is that he believes on some level he fucked over everyone in this situation. And, even more importantly, that even with hindsight he can't actually think of what he should have done instead. Every attempt to do better by one seems to involve fucking over the others even more because these people were in conflict with each other and choosing one would mean standing against another

And none of this would actually stop him from feeling angry at any of them. It's not "who is he angry at and who does he feel guilty about" it's: "he is angry at everyone and feels an immediate and bone deep guilt for daring to think badly of them."

Speaking from personal experience here, but feeling like you're not allowed to be angry at someone because you wronged them really doesn't stop the feeling, it just maks you feel like shit for feeling it. And this is all worsened by the fact that what he's in seclusion for is, at the end of the day, a moral question of what he, Lan Xichen, did wrong and every single emotion serves as further proof of the ways he's failed them.

Is he angry at Jin Guangyao, for killing his oldest friend, using Lan xichen's trust in him to do it, and then lying to him about it and countless other things for a decade when Lan Xichen thought of him as the person he trusted the most in the entire world? Yeah. That's a thing people get angry about! Except Jin Guangyao also saved his life and protected and helped him more times than he can count and never ever hurt him and can Lan Xichen say the same? No. He had to clean A-Yao's blood off Shouyue, he has to be haunted by the fact that if he just hadn't listened to Huaisang- hadn't been just like everyone else, in the end, and believed a lie about Jin Guangyao just to think the worst of him- then Jin Guangyao might still be alive.

Is he angry at Huaisang? For orchestrating the death of his best friend? For making him do it? For knowing what the real cause behind Nie Mingjue's death was and never telling him until he found out in the absolute worst way? Absolutely. But didn't Huaisang hide it from him for a reason? Wasn't it his clan's techniques and his personal faith in Jin Guangyao that cost Huaisang his brother? How dare he demand that Huaisang let him in on the secret of his brother's murderer when Lan Xichen is here wondering about how he should have protected that murderer better!

And I do even think he's angry at Nie Mingjue, sometimes I think it's pretty normal to be angry at your friend for kicking your other friend down the stairs and threatening to kill him, even when you know his mind is being poisoned. And years later the last thing he ever saw of Nie Mingjue was Nie Mingjue's thoughtless corpse coming to kill him before Jin Guangyao pushed him away and then proceeded to graphocally snap Jin Guangyao's neck in front of him. And if what he wants to do is protect Jin Guangyao, shouldn't he be mad at Mingjue? Didn't this whole mess start because Jin Guangyao was afraid Nie Mingjue was going to kill him?

Except holy shit, can you imagine? Lan Xichen feels like he personally has Nie Mingjue's blood on his hands. Your oldest friend is killed in front of you and you happily believe it's an accident for 11 years and now you think you have the right to be mad at him? You watched him get worse as he was being poisoned and attributed it to his illness and not to the techniques stolen from your library with the token you give his murderer. Does he think Nie Mingjue knew who he was in that moment and wanted to kill him? That he blamed Lan Xichen for his death? (For the record, I don't. I don't agree with most of what Lan Xichen thinks about himself, but I've been in a self-blame spiral and I know how it feels)

But what was he supposed to do then? Choose Mingjue's side and let A-Yao die? That's also unacceptable. But so is letting Jin Guangyao get away with it. Every single outcome is unacceptable. And really, if Jin Guangyao felt like he had to kill Nie Mingjue to save himself, when it was Lan Xichen who was supposed to keep the peace between them, isn't that another mark of his failure? That he couldn't protect Jin Guangyao well enough that he felt he had to do something so horrible?

But that's not an answer! He's supposed to know what he should have done different, and all he can come up with is "what you were already doing, but without failing this time" He can't pick a side because that means betrayal, but he's already tried not picking a side and it ended like this! There is no right answer, which can only leave him with the idea that he was simply doomed to hurt the people he loved from the start. No wonder the guy looks like shit when we see him post-canon. They put him in a real life trolley problem and gave him the lever as a souvenir.

[cannebady]

The worst thing by far about all the fuckin' fur was how hot it was when he'd get properly nervous. It was mostly annoying, Husk thought, because he never used to get this fuckin' nervous, but these days he feels like he sweats through his fur at least every other day.

It's a byproduct of exposure to Angel Dust, he thinks (and fuck is the spider aptly named). Initially, it was anger that got him heated, being subjected to the spider trampling on his painstakingly constructed boundaries, then it was the realization that under the performance, Anthony was a spitfire with a vulnerable streak a mile wide and legs even longer. In other words, Husk's fuckin type, both topside and in Hell.

Which brings him to now; sweating through his fuckin bowtie as he paces outside Angel's room, hands so damp that the fuckin' paper wrapped around the stupid bouquet that he couldn't not buy for a certain leggy demon was getting damp and who the fuck wanted to open their door to see a sweaty, anxious, drunk failure of an overlord handing them damp shitty flowers?

Probably not the prettiest guy Husk has ever laid eyes on. His best guy, even if only in his own head.

But he'd heard Angel and Vaggie talking about her plans for her anniversary with Charlie and how much Charlie loves getting flowers. Angel's eyes had sparked up a bit, mentioning that he used to bring those home for his mother and sister, back when he'd been alive, but hadn't ever received any.

Husk knew how to spot a weak spot, and Angel was projecting to anyone paying attention, "I'm a hopeless romantic that would burst into heart shaped confetti if someone gave me flowers" and the thought hadn't left Husk's mind since.

So on his way back to the hotel, when he'd spotted a white and blush bouquet that reminded him of fur he wanted to dig his claws into and-

Well.

So he bought the stupid fuckin' flowers and now he's being a big fuckin' coward again as he's still pacing and sweating and definitely not knocking on the door and saying, "You deserve only the best, baby", and handing the (sweaty, damp, probably embarrassing) bouquet to the guy he spends every waking moment thinking about.

It's not that he even expects anything to come of it. He has nothing to offer besides a well mixed drink and an ear to bend, so he hasn't got any expectations, he just thinks that maybe someone should make Angel feel a bit less like he exists only in service to others. And sure, maybe in his drunkest flights of fancy lately he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be the kind of guy to get a gift like Angel and care for it. Care for him.

Stupid.

He should just leave the flowers against the door.

Yeah.

But as he drops them against the door, cringing at the sweaty paw stain against the soft pink paper, the door moves inward and there he is.

Nine feet of the most gorgeous man Husk's ever been so close to, ever been lucky enough to be close to, staring at him with wide eyes and fuck, he's gotta get out of here.

"I-" he starts, but his coward voices fucks off to parts unknown, leaving only his rapid breathing and the distant sounds of the Pride ring to fill the space.

"Heya Husky," Angel says, sounded a little breathless himself.

Don't think about that.

"What's all this?" he finishes and is staring right at Husk as he tries to figure out an explanation that doesn't turn him into a pathetic creep with a hopeless crush. Fuck he's too old for this.

"Saw 'em, thought you might like' em," he settles on. True, but vague.

Coward.

"Ya got me flowers, Whiskers?" Angel says, voice a bit high, tight. His eyes are blown wide, and his mouth is open a little, like he can't get enough air in and Husk understands because he stopped breathing himself the moment the door opened.

He doesn't respond right away. Husk's been a gambling man since before Hell. Maybe this is worth gambling in, because Angel looks about a second from collapsing in his own doorway and there are only so many things that could mean.

He stands, pressing the bouquet into Angel's second set of hands, damn the fuckin' sweat and anxiety. The only way forward is though and it's the only honest way to go.

"You deserve beautiful things, sweetheart." he says, channeling a man he once was, that had the right words and tone to make someone look his way, to make them feel seen.

Those mismatched eyes go huge and glassy, and Husk is about a quarter of the way to a panic attack before he's pulled into the tightest hug he's ever experienced.

"Ya can't say things like that and expect me not ta squeeze ya, Husky," Angel murmurs into his neck, sets of arms wrapping Husk up entirely, fingers dug into his fur (he hopes he isn't too sweaty, hopes he's nice to touch).

"You deserve to hear nice things too," he whispers, and his voice is low and strained, fuckin' obviously besotted.

He feels all those lanky limbs tremble a bit (oh fuckin', Christ his knees are weak, I did that, fuck), before he decides to give into his impulse to drag his claws through that fluffy hair that's always falling into Angel's (gorgeous, incomparable, hypnotizing) eyes.

"Husk," Angel nearly whines, breathing going a bit funny at that and Husk decides to roll the dice one last time.

"Fuck it. Can I kiss you, Legs?" he says, aiming for sexy and ending up closer to desperate.

There's a shit starting grin creeping across that beautiful face when he pulls back to wait for Angel's response.

"I dunno Husky, can you?" Angel snarks and oh fuck him (literally, figuratively, any fuckin' way).

"Brat," he breathes before he pulls down to align their mouths and oh fuckin' fuck that's good.

Angel's lips are syrupy soft and sweet, tasting of vanilla and peaches and all of the good things pieces of shit like Husk shouldn't get to taste. He makes a perfect huffing whine right into Husk's mouth and he has to pull back before he loses his composure entirely.

He wants Angel, wants to show him what it's like to have someone only aim to please him, and he will, he thinks. Just not yet.

He cups the side of Angel's face, giving him one last kiss before pulling back.

Angel's eyes are half lidded and he looks like every wet dream Husk's ever had. This isn't Angel Dust, the porn star. This is Anthony, and he's fuckin' perfect.

He reaches down and tangles his claws with one of Angel's hands, rubbing a thumb along a soft cheek bone.

"Have dinner with me," he says.

"Ya wanna have dinner," Angel says, "after a kiss like that?"

"I want to do a whole lot more," he replies because he knows Angel wants to hear it and, fuck it, he wants Angel to know it. "But I want to do this right. So, dinner tomorrow?"

Angel is looking at him like he's trying to solve a very difficult riddle. It goes on long enough that he wonders if he should apologize for overstepping. Fuck knows he's not in his right mind (how could he be, standing so close to Angel like this).

But then it's like the sun breaks through and he gets one of those rare, fuckin' stunning, smiles.

"Yeah, I'll have dinner with ya, kitten," he says, breathless and playful.

"Alright then, it's a date," he says, just so that Angel knows what he's offering (so he knows it's being accepted), "Wear something nice. I ain't takin' you to any kinda dive." Because he wants that to be clear too.

He can be a gentleman, when he's fucked to be.

"Oh," Angel says and he's blushing high up on his cheeks and Husk can fucking feel the heat of it.

He raises up onto his toes to kiss one of those honeyed blushes, before bestowing another kiss to the back of the hand he's still holding.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he says before forcing himself to walk away (lest he never leave at all).

He only looks back once he's ready to turn the corner down the hallway, and sees Angel brushing his cheek where Husk's lips had been and cradling the flowers to his chest as gently as he does with Fat Nuggets.

Maybe Husk's onto something here. Maybe caring for (loving, because that's what it is whether he's ready to name it or not) Angel is something he'll be good at. Fuck knows the spider makes it easy.

If he weren't a very jaded, former overlord he'd be skipping back to his room on a fuckin' cloud.

As it is, there's just a little pep in his step, like some of the weight of the world's been lifted from his shoulders.

[moghedien]

HONESTLY THO can we talk about the angst of Aylin and Isobel’s separation from Isobel’s side of things

Because the angst from Aylin’s side is there and obvious and very very clearly a huge motivation for her actions and yeah it’s great. But Aylin is the immortal. Aylin was always going to be the one that watched Isobel die. They both always knew this, it just happened way before they expected and caused a whole lot of turmoil. And even with all her angst, Aylin is certain that Isobel is dead and not coming back. She saw her body. She probably saw her buried. She probably say many of Ketheric’s vile attempts to bring her back before she was imprisoned. Isobel is dead and not coming back. Losing Isobel and then spending a century being tortured and bound as a means of helping Ketheric maintain profane power and immortality is like…so much and it’s driving her passion and anger when you meet her, but it’s also very obvious that’s what’s going on when you have the context. And when you have the context, it’s clear and it’s obvious to see.

But Isobel’s angst is just so subtle and steeped in uncertainty.

Isobel woke up and it seems like she didn’t even realize she had died. She describes it as nothing and then waking up. She doesn’t know how she died. She doesn’t remember dying at all. She just knows she woke up and it was a 100 years later and everything was very, very different.

Her father had been a Selunite when she died, and now he was gone from Selune to Shar to Myrkul. He went from being a seemingly good man and leader to a mass murdering undead necromancer who seemingly began committing atrocity after atrocity as soon as her tomb was shut. He destroyed her home, her community and everyone in it, and defiled everything she has ever held dear. Apparently for her, even.

She has basically no answers for how any of this happened or what is going on, she just flees and hides until she can create a sanctuary for people who seem more or less to stumble in the dark too.

Like all of that has to be terribly confusing and consuming her mind, but that would only be made worse by her learning about Aylin.

Because Aylin isn’t supposed to die.

Isobel is supposed to be the one that would die one day. Aylin is immortal. They both knew this. Everyone that knew about them knew this. But then suddenly she’s waking up 100 years later in a very different world to her very changed father telling her that Aylin is dead.

It’s impossible, but looking at everything else that seemed to happen while she was “sleeping,” maybe it isn’t. Maybe Aylin is dead. Maybe somehow her immortal demigod mate died.

But maybe not

The only thing telling her that Aylin died is Ketheric who is now very clearly an unreliable source. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he isn’t. She literally has no way to know.

So if Ketheric is lying, then where’s Aylin? Did she somehow become corrupted like everything else she used to love? Is she being held prisoner? Did she just leave and move on once Isobel died? Again, she has little to indicate what could have happened. For all she knows, Aylin is off somewhere being the love of some other cleric’s life. It’s been 100 years after all.

And the worst part is that she has two pieces of evidence on Aylin’s fate that seem to contradict each other. She has her father telling her that Aylin is long dead. Then she has Marcus. Someone that she knew and interacted with before you arrive at Last Light, arriving with a newly acquired set of wings. She doesn’t know where those wings came from, of course. But her father sends a goon to kidnap her with a set of wings they didn’t have even days ago? She would suspect the source. She would know that he was being intentional about that. So where would he have gotten a fresh set of wings if the only angel around was long dead?

While Aylin is no doubt like tragic in this situation, she never ever had reason to hope Isobel was alive. She never suspects it. All of her angst around Isobel is mourning and vengeance.

Isobel on the other hand has no idea what happened to Aylin. Aylin isn’t supposed to be able to die, and yet she’s dead. She’s supposed to be dead, yet Ketheric seems to be getting fresh body parts from her. He seems to be doing that, but it could be lies to trick her. Aylin might be alive and well. Aylin might be dead. Aylin might be evil and corrupted. Aylin might be helping Ketheric for all she knows. Isobel has no way of knowing anything and the worst part is, she can’t go try to figure it out.

If she leaves, everyone in the inn will die. Even if she somehow can leave without innocents dying, she can’t put herself anywhere near Ketheric since he clearly seems willing to hurt her emotionally now. He’ll probably do more the next time he has a chance. Who knows what he would do to make her stay if she went looking for answers there. Who knows what damage he could do if she gets the one thing he wanted.

Literally all Isobel can do is sit at the inn and pray to Selune for answers, or better yet for Aylin.

But Selune doesn’t seem to be providing the answers she wants, and if you play as a Selunite, Isobel hints at how much that is angering her.

[suzukiblu]

New WIP start behind the cut, based off a request from @itty-bitty-fun: “I'd definitely love to see your take on micro/macro”.  . . . you know that thing when a kink is not really your kink and you’re like neutral on its existence, but then, like . . . someone asks you to actually consider it, and then you get way too invested in the process? no reason. asking for a friend.

“This is mortifying,” Kon mutters into his hands, trying not to die of said mortification. 

“Kinda reminds me of my Barbie phase, honestly,” Cassie says with a smirk, offering him the set of doll clothes she just got back from digging up. He glowers disgruntledly up at her, but it’s technically an improvement on the spare ace bandages from Tim’s utility belt that he’s currently wrapped up in. Kon is not actually a self-conscious guy and wouldn’t normally care about anyone seeing him naked, but normally he is two hundred and fifty pounds of half-Kryptonian muscle and not the size of a goddamn Barbie doll, as Cassie has so helpfully and mercilessly seen fit to point out. 

Actually, probably a Barbie doll would be bigger. Like, Kon did not have a “playing with dolls” phase for several very obvious reasons, but he’s pretty sure they’re bigger than he is right now. He’s more, like, action figure-sized. Which, obviously he’d rather be an action figure than a fucking Barbie, given the option, but also Barbies are bigger than action figures, and–and–

Stupid magic.

“You’re really small, wow,” Bart observes as Kon snatches the doll clothes and eyes them sourly. “I bet we could fit you in Tim’s coffee cup. Or maybe even his utility belt. Or maybe–” 

“Shut up, Bart!” Kon snaps, because he really doesn’t like how this feels, actually, and it’s actually kind of freaking him out, and he probably is small enough to fit in Tim’s stupid coffee cup and that’s just not something he really wants to be a thing right now! At all! Or ever! 

Also, the doll clothes are big and shapeless and awkward and came off a stupid cheesy “legally distinct” knockoff Troia doll, which means they’re also sparkly and kind of itch, it turns out, while also being stupidly flimsy and so paper-thin they're practically see-through. He feels like an idiot in them, and doesn’t even wanna think about how stupid he must look. 

Fuck his stupid fucking life. 

Look, Kon’s a big guy, okay? He’s used to being a big guy. Used to being the meat shield and the tank and the one who gets between everybody and the problem. Like this . . . 

What the fuck use is he, like this? 

The spell’s temporary. It’s not permanent or dangerous or anything like that. It’ll be gone by this time tomorrow, if not sooner. 

But it’s not gone yet, and Kon’s no use to anybody like this. 

“Could put you in a dollhouse for the night,” Cassie hums, giving him an amused smile. “Tuck you into bed like a baby doll.” 

“I actually hate you,” he informs her, and she laughs, because she’s the worst. 

“Actually I really like that idea,” Bart says musingly, tapping his mouth. “You grifin’ never let us take care of you.” 

“I still have TTK,” Kon reminds him threateningly, and Bart just cocks his head, looking him over speculatively. 

“So you’re not as strong, but you're still pretty invulnerable?” he asks. 

“Who fucking cares?!” Kon snaps in frustration. He’s still no use right now either way. 

“I just wanna know if we could fuck you like this and not have to worry about hurting you,” Bart replies reasonably, reaching out to stroke a fingertip down his chest. Kon–sputters, kind of, and reflexively recoils from it. 

And also, like. Burns alive, kind of. 

“I–like this?” he sputters. “I'm like, fucking doll-sized, Bart!” 

“Yeah, I know,” Bart agrees. “Like the perfect size to pick up and play with.” 

“Burning alive” is actually not a strong enough phrase for what Kon is doing right now. 

“You already let us dress you up,” Bart points out, poking at the strap of his borrowed clothes. Kon metaphorically vaporizes into atoms and literally dodges away from the poking. 

“I dressed myself,” he says defensively, mortified by the idea of–what exactly does Bart even have in mind? He's not big enough to do anything for any of them. His dick is definitely not big enough to do anything for any of them. Like–how would that even–how would they even–? 

“Hmmm,” Cassie says, and then just puts both her hands around him and picks him up, because she is again the worst, and–well, and then she flips him around, unzips the front of her shirt, and sits him down to recline right on top of her bare cleavage, his head resting back against her breastbone, which is . . . fine, alright. Like–he’ll live with that. Getting snuggled up to a pair of tits big enough to sleep on is not the worst imposition of his life, especially when said tits belong to the most Wonder-ful member of their whole weird nebulously-defined team situationship thing. 

But also, it’s embarrassing, because what the fuck is he supposed to do for her like this? 

[misty--nights]

So I'm watching the show yet again (usually I struggle watching shows, I don't know how I've managed to watch it twice already and still want to watch it a third time), and here are some things that I've noticed in episode 1, after the read more because it got longer than expected.

Charles calls himself the brawn and the protector of the two, but it's Edwin who goes all serious and says "I would not let that happen" when Charles asks what they'd do if Death came for them. I'm sure/concerned that he'd try to fight her if she ever came to take them...

Edwin knits!! When they are wearing their disgusses to get the demon out of Crystal he knitts while Charles reads the newspaper. Granted, you can only see him doing for a short moment, so I don't know if he's doing it properly, but I like to think he is. I have many thoughts about this, but it would take over the whole post. I'm still willing to make a whole post for it if anyone is interested but yeah. Bottom line is, Edwin can knitt!

The tone of voice that Crystal uses when she first wakes up in the Agency and in her walk with Charles is really different to the tone she uses the rest of the season. In hindsight, it's pretty obvious that is her mean girl tone, but still, I just think it's a nice detail.

Edwin takes Crystal's coffee cup when she takes the mail? We've just stablished he's not going to drink it, so is he just being petty? Is he going to throw it away or hide it just to be a nuisance? Is he investigating what she got? This boy, I swear...

I know people have pointed out all the Clue boards in the closet, but there's also a ouija board there? Hilarious. Maybe some ghosts prefer communicating with that instead of speaking? Or Charles got it because he thought it was funny and then never got rid of it?

I like that the thing that convinces Edwin to take the Becky Aspen case is Charles asking if he's going to let a little girl die. But more importantly, the title card right after that says "three flights". I've had this question for a bit, but what do they do during those flights? Do the boys spend those just standing in the hallway next to Crystal's seat? Do they sit in the cockpit? Do they hide in the bathroom until someone comes to use it? Do they hope for empty seats they can use? I don't know, every possible version of their trip is so funny to me. I know ghosts don't get tired like alive people, but the idea of them just standing awkwardly off to the side for more than 10 hours is hilarious.

No big detail here, I just love Crystal's purple coat thing she wears in this episode. Never really noticed that it has like flowers embroidered at the bottom, and the color of the whole thing is so nice.

"Maybe he's our fucking demon now." Crystal I love you, that is one of the funniest lines in the episode. I also really like that she gets to be angry and scared. Even if later Jenny talks her down from the worst it, it's not her anger that she points out, it's the fact that people are just like that and how the boys act is nothing personal. Her anger is not directly attacked (except by Edwin, but that's just him being petty), because she gets to be angry about all that's happening to her.

The flashback to Edwin's life at St. Hilarion's changes the video aspect (is that the proper term for that? It makes the screen square like in older films is what I mean.) Also he card for that flasback specifies "Edwardian England" even while having the date at the bottom. I don't know, it made me chuckle that they felt the need to clarify the era even while having the date there. They don't put "modern day England" for Crystal's flashback.

With the way the cat reacted to the sardine, I'm willing to bet he would have told Edwin everything without the binding spell if Edwin had a few more fish for him.

When they're talking behind the shop and Crystal says she gets angry, Charles looks down and takes a bit to respond. I think this is the first time he relates to her. The first time he can call that pull twards her something more than mere attraction. He has this very vulnerable look when she says it and then immediately shows her his parents and tells her something he's never told anyone before? This boy saw his anger in someone else and thought maybe it's fine for him to be angry too.

Is it a trick of the light in the scene where she meets Niko, or does Crystal have a septum piercing?

"If you're sticking around, you gotta let us in." Charles, I love you, but you are the last person who should be saying this. Specially after that sad look he gets when Crystal says it must be hard not being able to talk or hug his parents. You just agreed to what she said, as if that were the truth of why you check on them, what do you mean "you gotta let us in"? (I do get that they haven't known each other for long so he's not going to open up about all his trauma, but precisely because of that, it's wild for him to expect her to do it.)

I never noticed Charles quickly returning the mirror to normal when Edwin comes. I'd noticed the audio cue for the mirror changing back, but I never noticed Charles moving to do it and he looks so panicked about it.

Considering how Edwin is about touch, the fact that he lets Crystal take his hand when she tells the that the case matters is huge.

Why are they planning down at the shop when they have Crystal's room all to themselves? Besides the ambiance, of course. I think Jenny's reaction is completely justified.

Esther leaves her turntable on when she goes to the post office. Is it for Monty? The atmosphere? Did she just forget?

Not a new discovery, just a reminder of something I really like. There's this very specific editing thing (like the quick cuts between the instruments and then the opened lock, I don't know what to call it) that they do pretty much every time Charles picks a lock / opens a door, and it makes me very happy each time. The sound they use for it is perfection.

Edwin's attention to detail is insane. The fact that he can recall one cupboard is further forward than it was in the plans is really impressive.

Charles sounds so done when he throws the magic backpack. "Put her in the bag-of-tricks backpack." Man, I can hear the eye roll in that sentence. Good to know Edwin isn't the only bitchy one in this relationship.

And that's it for episode 1. I think I might do this for the others as well as I watch them. It was really fun to do, and it forces me to pay attention to the details, so I think it's worthwhile.

[irkimatsu]

Filling a request for @christinaatyourservice92! She requested a Husk x Reader where Reader "cleans up nicely", so to speak.

Husk/Reader, featuring Angel as an enthusiastic wingman. Some other characters kind of exist I guess. Reader is wearing a dress but otherwise their gender isn't specified; we're friendly to mascs in dresses here. Nothing further than dancing and kissing, anything with Husk is going to be a slowburn. But I love a good slowburn.

I'm still new to this fandom and haven't written most of these characters at all before, so please be patient with me! And feel free to send requests; I can't promise to have something for all of them, but who knows what could happen if you strike my fancy! (Probably only answering Husk related ones for now, though. Fuck I love Husk. Give me some Husk time for a bit. Husk... ahem.)

A ball wasn’t the worst bonding idea that Charlie ever had.

Granted, calling whatever was going on in the lobby of the hotel a “ball” was a bit of an overstatement. There weren’t that many guests, for one thing; the hotel didn’t have enough people for that, even including the employees. The decorations were set up quickly and cheaply, making the whole thing look more like a child’s birthday party. Entertainment was provided by Alastor, who stood off to the side and played instrumental ragtime music through his staff, presumably wondering what kind of nonsense this whole affair would lead to.

It had already led to Niffty dancing through the lobby with a “partner” made of bug carcasses, dust bunnies, and assorted other unmentionables, so that was a start.

Husk didn’t have to put in any sort of effort for this mess, but something had inspired him to clean himself up for once. He’d changed into a full suit and forgone the top hat, and he stood by the tables gently sipping a glass of red wine instead of chugging whiskey like it was a water bottle.

Angel, of course, noticed the discrepancy.

“Ooh, lookit you, all fancy,” he remarked as he took a spot beside Husk. Angel wasn’t too keen on the whole event, but he’d taken the opportunity to dress up in a nice skirt and wig, not one to waste a chance to play with his appearance. He certainly wasn’t giving up the chance to show off his legs, given how short his skirt was. “What’s the occasion?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Husk asked. “Not like I’m the only one dressed up.”

“Yeah, but I was born to look good. I ain’t showing up to even the shittiest party without showing off what I got! You, on the other hand, look uncomfortable.”

“It’s these wings,” Husk said. “It’s so damn hard to find a shirt that fits ‘em.”

“So why not take the shirt off?” Angel suggested, sing-songy tone confirming that he knew exactly how that sounded. Husk merely smiled and rolled his eyes at his friend’s sense of humor.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Husk asked.

“Ohhhhh.” Angel chuckled. “Ohhhh, I see what this is about…”

“Have you seen them?” Husk responded, his expression not changing.

“Someone like them at a ball? Uh-uh, ain’t no way they’re comin’ down here. You know they’re too much of a recluse for this fancy dress-up business.”

“You really think so…?”

“Aw, what’s got you lookin’ so down, Whiskers?”

Husk ignored Angel for another sip of wine, his desire to maintain some semblance of class preventing him from downing it as quickly as he’d like.

“Right. Be right back.”

“You better not be thinking about what I think you are!” Husk called after Angel as he walked away, but Angel didn’t respond.

—

You’re not going down there. You are not going down there. Not in this.

It’s not like it’s a revealing outfit or anything. It’s just a frilly, floor-length red dress. You’d picked it up when Charlie first announced the ball, fully intending to wear it that evening.

This is the first time you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror while wearing it, and the mirror is doing nothing to convince you to leave the room in this thing.

Even when you were alive, you were never particularly feminine; being feminine required being cute, and that just wasn’t something you were ever comfortable considering yourself as. Your appearance became even less of a concern after you died, with clothing being more of a suggestion than anything else. But a formal occasion sounded like the perfect chance to change that status quo.

What a stupid idea that was.

“Hey, Toots!” That voice along with three simultaneous knocks could only be one person. “You comin’ downstairs?”

“I’m fine! Thanks!” you call back without another thought. Why couldn’t you have gotten a nice outfit that was more gender neutral? Maybe you could change to your plain clothes and join the party that way…

But you know his tastes, and he might be disappointed to see you showing up for what’s supposed to be a major event in casual streetwear…

Better off not risking it.

“Aw, but it’s borin’!” Angel called from the other side of the door. “We could use some company down there!”

“Go ahead without me!” you assured Angel, preparing to change out of the dress and spend the evening to yourself in your room.

“But Husk wants to see you!”

The sound of his name makes you freeze.

It’s not a surprise that he wants to see you, really. You two have been getting along well, talking about your shared appreciation for music and the performing arts. Even the other members of the hotel have commented that Husk never softens quite as much as when you show an interest in his stories of his days as a performer in Vegas. He really does seem to like spending time with you.

But to hear it spoken out loud…

“You okay in there?”

You slowly open the door to see Angel standing there. At least you don’t need to worry about being overdressed; Angel’s got you beat in that department. He’s always impressed you with how he can take an outfit that should be so, so tacky on paper and yet make it work.

His eyes widen at the sight of you, and he lets out a whistle. “Well, damn. You in a dress. Never thought it’d happen.”

“I look stupid,” you mutter, holding your upper arm as you turn your head away. “I have no idea how to wear this thing…”

Angel scoffs. “You kiddin’? Look at me, honey. You know the types of people I hang out with, and let me tell ya, there is no one who can’t pull off a dress if they wanna.”

“Do you think Husk will like it?”

Angel laughs, and you immediately regret letting those words escape your mouth.

“Um, not that I… it’s just, he went to parties like this all the time, right? When he was alive, and when he was an Overlord, so he knows what people are supposed to wear… we’ve been getting along, but it might look bad if I’m underdressed…”

“You could go down there in a brown paper bag, and ol’ kitty cat down there would still be staring at you,” Angel assures you.

“Are you sure…?”

“Jesus Christ, you two are clueless.” He takes your hand in two of his and starts tugging you toward the stairs. “C’mon. You’re gonna go give Husk something to do besides finish off the wine all by himself.”

—

The reaction you get when you reach the lobby is less than you expected. Charlie’s happy to greet you, which you appreciate, but hers wasn’t the reaction you were looking for.

The only reaction you get from Husk is a briefly surprised glance before he turns away to refill his wine.

Is that really it…?

Angel must be equally unimpressed with the response. He storms over to Husk, and while you can’t really hear the conversation, you can see that it involves a lot of arm flailing from Angel and tail lashing from Husk.

The only phrase you can pick out is Angel saying, “Well, forgive me for trying to get you some-”

Should you go back upstairs? Husk doesn’t seem as happy to see you as Angel implied he would, and all you’re doing down here is standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. While you try to decide whether to run off and never think of this again, you notice Angel approach Alastor. He’s talking to Alastor with the same animated arm motions, while Alastor listens on in mild amusement. As Angel walks away, Alastor rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then gently taps his staff against the floor.

The bouncy ragtime music abruptly shifts to a downtempo jazz number.

Husk’s ears perk up at the sound, and as he looks up to figure out what’s going on, he locks eyes with you. You’re looking back at him, maintaining eye contact for far longer than he had when you first entered. He can’t just ignore you after that, can he?

Indeed, he can’t. Slowly, he walks toward you, uncertain at first but progressively gaining confidence. Angel flashes thumbs up signs that he can’t see behind him.

“Good evening,” he greets you, his deep voice so much more smooth than anything he’d shown as recently as thirty seconds ago. “You look nice tonight.”

“Thank you,” you respond, flashing your best smile. “You, too.”

Husk in a suit… you could get used to this.

His smile is surprisingly gentle when he does it without teeth. He holds out his paw. “Shall we dance?”

You take his paw in one hand, and he takes your other hand in his other paw. The two of you gently sway together, not making much contact, but even this proximity is making your chest pound. His confidence has grown considerably; he’s clearly used to things like this. He’s perfectly on rhythm, not holding your hands too loosely or tightly.

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he places a paw on your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You’re at a loss at what to do with your now free hand. It finds its way to his hip, and instantly your face starts heating. No, that’s way too much, way too quickly-

He doesn’t say anything about it. He only smiles.

Maybe it’s okay.

You stop focusing so much on where his hands are, or how he’s moving his feet. Your only concern is the gentle look he’s giving you as he dances with you, leading you in a perfect rhythm.

His arms have found their way around your waist at some point. You’re too lost in the moment to question it.

He whispers your name, and is it just you or is his face getting incredibly close? You raise a hand to stroke the fur on his cheek.

His lips are on yours, so chastely but they’re there, and you’re so floored by the action that you barely even register Angel whooping in the background. The kiss only lasts an instant, but you’re both a little more breathless now than when you started.

It’s the only time you kiss for now, but you spend much more time swaying together. You don’t know where one song ends and another begins; it’s only the underscore for one long dance, where the sliver of space between your bodies feels like a chasm.

No… not tonight. Not here. Not while they’re watching.

—

If it were up to you, that dance would have never ended… which is why it’s probably for the best that the sultry saxophone music abruptly changed to a loud swing number.

Alastor looks rather pleased with himself for the interruption.

You’d spend more time with Husk in the lobby, but not only is the music giving you a headache, but Angel keeps on staring at you with a raised eyebrow and a grin, and you don’t want any more time to think about what he’s theorizing in regards to your personal life.

“I wanna go back upstairs,” you tell Husk. Before he can look too disappointed, you then add, “You can come with me if you want.”

After you shout a good night at Charlie and Vaggie and Husk flicks a good-natured middle finger to the smirking Angel, the two of you head upstairs, and after some brief discussion, you agree to spend your time in Husk’s room. The two of you sit on the edge of his bed for a while as he shows you his collection of vinyls, and you discuss the possibility of the two of you possibly performing some of his favorite songs as a duet, with him on his saxophone and you singing.

“It’d be nice if we could sing together, too,” you say. “You have a really nice voice.”

The compliment flusters him enough that it takes him a moment to respond. “Maybe… but most of the duets I can sing are love songs.”

Now it’s your turn to blush, and it’s a lot more obvious on you than it is on him. You can’t hide the truth; you might as well say it out loud.

“I’d like singing a love song with you.”

Husk looks at the ceiling and smiles to himself, his thoughts elsewhere. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done a duet. Singing a love song with someone, and meaning every word of it… there’s nothing like it. I wouldn’t want to sing a duet like that with someone who doesn’t mean it.”

You snap him out of his daydream by placing your hand over his paw. “What about me? If I did mean it?”

He chuckles to himself. “You’d mean it? This soon? You just got here. We barely know each other.” Despite his words, he turns his paw around so he can hold your hand in return.

“You’re the one who kissed me down there,” you remind him.

“A single kiss isn’t love. Love takes time.” His body language doesn’t seem to be matching his words as he squeezes your hand. “It takes patience. Compromise. It’s not gonna fall into place easily. It’s easy to screw up… I’ve done it before.”

He’s looking at your face again, a once-unseen vulnerability in his eyes.

“...I don’t want to screw it up again. Not with you.”

“We can at least try.” You stroke his cheek again, now more focused than ever on the white hairs in his dark fur and the bags beneath his eyes. He’s been around for so long… he’s been hurt so many times.

If you could be the one to help him with that hurt…

You press your lips to his, and he accepts the kiss, holding it much longer than he did while you danced. He wraps his arms around you, not pulling you as closely as he could, but still letting you share in each others’ body heat.

It will take time, but you hope that someday, the two of you can sing that love song.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Havin a think about how Ed tries to get the crew to mutiny on him in s2e2.

At this point, he has made the decision to commit suicide. He is committed to ending his life but is unwilling to kill himself directly, so he needs to find a way to convince the crew to kill him.

So Ed traps his crew in a desperate situation. He sails them into a storm, rips off the wheel, and threatens to shoot a cannonball into the mast, which would kill everyone on board. Would he actually have gone through with shooting the cannon? I dunno, really, and I doubt he does, either - he wasn't really in a good mental state at the time, and when he goes to light the cannon, he does it so very slowly, giving them plenty of time to stop him. He's grasping at straws to give the crew any reason to kill him (he fucking goes "yeah, maybe!" when Archie accuses him of being misogynistic by telling her to fight Jim, like he thinks that's a death penalty-level offence). When the ship is getting tossed around in the storm he's clearly not holding onto anything. He doesn't try to defend himself at all when the crew finally do start beating the shit out of him. Point is, this is a guy who is 100% committed to not leaving this situation alive.

He is pulling out all the stops to make the crew mad enough and scared enough for their own safety to mutiny on him. But it keeps sticking with me that the very first thing Ed tries is telling Jim to fight Archie to the death.

I think it's very telling that the first thing that pops into Ed's mind when he considers "what will make Jim kill me" is "tell them to hurt someone they love." He's grasping for anything, yes, but that's one of the worst things he could think of. He clearly thinks it'll get the job done - he doesn't seem surprised at all when they stop fighting each other, just kinda annoyed that he has to keep stretching this out.

Also thinking about how Ed always shields Stede with his body when he's in danger, how his instinct is always to protect. How he couldn't lift a finger against Stede in s1e6, even with Izzy pressuring him to kill Stede - how he felt so much guilt about even planning to kill him. For Ed, it's so clear that hurting someone you love is among the worst things anyone could ever do.

[danikamariewrites]

Azriel x adhd!Reader

A/n: As someone with ADHD I struggle with a lot of stuff like my emotions and daily tasks. I like talking about it bc I don’t think it should be taboo and I hate the stigmatism around it that it’s just people being lazy. If your struggling with ADHD or any other mental health problems know you’re not alone ❤️

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, some angst

At first Azriel didn’t understand why your mood could be so up and down all the time. Or why you struggled with getting out of bed some days and others you had so much energy you didn’t know what to do with it.

You didn’t like loud noises, being touched unless you wanted too, and some textures overwhelmed your senses causing you to lash out.

You have a hard time communicating your feelings and he does too, which makes you both frustrated when one of you just brushes the other off or is passive aggressive.

Azriel notices you space out sometimes or that when he’s talking to you, you ask him to repeat things because you didn’t hear him. He thinks it’s odd but brushes it off as you just being preoccupied. He also picks up on your fidgeting but never thought anything of it

One day you both snap at each other resulting in the worst fight you’ve ever had

Azriel ends up going to Rhys for advice because he doesn’t want some stupid fight on a random Monday to be the reason you break up

Azriel tells his brother about the issues that have been building up over the last few months and Rhys, who’s been one of your best friends since childhood, tells him you’ve always been that way

He doesn’t go into detail, it’s your story to tell, but he does tell Az about when you were younger and your parents had Madja come give you a few tests. He remembered being a little nervous for you but you were fine. You just needed a little extra help and attention with things because your brain works differently

Azriel instantly feels bad that he didn’t know

“It’s ok Az, she didn’t even tell me until we were teenagers.” Rhys says sympathetically. “Yeah but I’m the one that’s supposed to be there for her, not get angry with her.” Rhys hugs his brother, insisting he stay the night and that time apart will do you both good

The next morning Az comes home to you baking in the kitchen

You had to move around or the thoughts of Azriel not coming home because you were too much of a burden were going to eat you alive

When you see him you try to apologize but he cuts you off asking if you could sit down and talk

“I don’t want to push, but Rhys told me about when you were younger and the testing with Madja.” He says gently

You take a deep breath, trying to blink your tears away

Sometimes it’s hard for you to talk about your ADHD because you hate to seem weak or different

But you’ve held back long enough and if you didn’t tell Azriel soon you knew you would get worse trying to mask it

You tell him everything. how your energy goes up and down, your depression and that it’s worse because you can’t find the energy to do things

You feel useless sometimes because you forget things or because you don’t listen

He hugs you as you cry into his chest, “I just feel so guilty being this way. I’m sorry Az.”

He brushes away your tears, “It’s ok my love. I know I don’t communicate well either. And I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt this way. It must’ve been killing you to keep it in.”

From that point forward Azriel was always there to make things better

Your communication improved and fights or the silent treatment became very rare

You weren’t afraid to tell him if something was bothering you or if you needed extra help or attention from him

Azriel and his shadows could pick up if you were being overstimulated or stressed out, so there were times you didn’t even need to ask

If you were out with the group and became uncomfortable Azriel would take you somewhere quite to help calm your anxiety

He’d wrap his wings around you so it would be dark and quite, helping slow your panicked breathing

“It’s ok baby, take a deep breath.” “That’s it, in and out, don’t rush.” “Here feel my heartbeat, can we try and match it?”

If you didn’t like how your sweater or dress was feeling that day he would be there with a back up or give you his own

“Are you sure Az, I don’t want to take it from you then you’ll be cold.” “Don’t worry about me baby, I just want you to be comfortable. Plus I’m built for the cold, Illyrian remember?”

Whenever you start fidgeting it’s usually if you’re bored or nervous. Azriel always keeps a little fidget toy or a pen on him so you can hold it and focus your energy on that. He knows you hate being thought of as a distraction and you think it’s better to focus on a small thing in your hands rather than swinging your feet or pushing your chair around

You thought him knowing about your ADHD would change how he feels about you or treat you differently. You bring this up to him one night in bed, “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you at all. You’re still perfect to me, my love. You just need extra help sometimes and it’s ok to ask for help.”

[justmeinadaze]

I Miss The Misery (Steve X You)

"Just know that I'll make you hurt

(I miss the lies and the pain what you did to me)

When you tell me you'll make it worse

(I'd rather fight all night than watch the TV)

I hate that feeling inside

You tell me how hard you'll try

But when we're at our worst

I miss the misery."

A/N: From my previous post, I mentioned I've been feeling some type of way and every time I hear this song I think of mean Steve every time.

Warnings: Mean, Toxic Steve X Fem Slightly Toxic Y/N, SMUT of the rougher variety, public sex (bathroom, office), daddy kink (cause im me), smacking, choking, degrading (brat, whore), ANGST, some gas lighting from Stevie, he's definitely not a good guy, cheating (mentions of him cheating on her; reader cheats on bf), she talks about how his behavior excites her sexually but she's aware of how toxic that kind of thinking is. I think that's all.

Kind of inspired by an ex I had and the way he treated me. He bounced off of each other negatively and I remember telling my therapist that I thought the reason I kept going back to him was because "at least I feel something." I haven't seen him in 4 years so Yay for healthy relationships! :)

Doesn't mean we cant enjoy some toxic smut with Steve Harrington.

Word Count: 6317

“Hey, honey. Rough day?”, you coo at your boyfriend as he comes through the front door with a heavy elongated sigh. 

“Yeah. These assholes that bought our company are changing everything and it’s starting to piss me off.”, he grumbles while taking a seat at the dinner table as you crawl into his lap and kiss his temple. 

“You should say something. Tell your boss you’re sick of the changes and the disrespect. They need you and your team, baby.”

“Naw.”, he gently smiles as he hugs you tighter. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

Smothering your own frustrated sigh, you grin as you kiss his lips before heading back to the kitchen to finish the meal you were making. You never understood your boyfriend’s passive aggression when it came to most things. Any time anything bothered him, he’d vent and stomp his feet but in the end, he did nothing. 

You had never dated a man like him before. Most of your past boyfriends were toxic to say the least but what they didn’t know was you were always trying to recreate a feeling someone from your past gave you. The feeling of being desperately needed to the point that they would break down a door to be with you. That passion that followed jealously or a fight that they most likely started but you definitely instigated. That feeling of being…alive. When you couldn’t find it in anyone else, you decided it was best to move on to something healthier. 

Jacob was a good person who doted on you hand and foot. If you had a bad day, he would hold you and if you just needed someone to talk to he was more than accommodating. When you two fought, if you could call it that, you could scream and be mean and all he would do is sigh and say things like “I understand why you would feel that way. I’ll try and be better.” When you two were intimate, he was incredibly vanilla, only ever being sexual in bed and usually missionary. The few times you tried to explain what you wanted, he never seemed to understand. 

“You want me to hurt you??”

“No…not exactly. I just want you to be…rougher. SHOW me how much you love me. MAKE me feel it.”

“You don’t think I show you enough how much I care about you?”

“No! I mean yes…I mean…Gah! Never mind.”

 “What’s, uh, what’s the name of the company that bought yours again?”, you ask as you grab a beer bottle from the fridge and pop it open. 

“Actually, babe, I was going to tell you. I did some research on them and it seems they originated in your hometown Hawkins. It’s a company called Harrington & Co.” The sound of glass shattering causes Jacob to jump up and immediately run to the kitchen where he finds you wide eyed with beer now swimming around your feet. “Oh my god. Are you okay?! Don’t move, you don’t have shoes. Let me clean this for you.”

“Harrington? Like Bill Harrington?”

“Yeah! I was going to ask if you knew them.”, he continues as he kneels down and begins to clean broken glass before wiping at the liquid. “Supposedly, from what I read, Bill Harrington retired and left it to his son Steven. Did you know him? He’s about your age.”

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

“What do you care, sire?! I’m not your fucking girlfriend remember?”

“That doesn’t stop you from coming to my house at fucking 2 am begging to ride my dick!”

Your hand flew across his face, his angry eyes glaring into yours when his head reels back. As you swing your arm to hit him again, his large palm catches your wrist and roughly pulls you to his chest.

“Let me go.”, you growl.

Leaning forward, his lips hover just above your own, feeling the slight wind of your heavy exhales that come from your nose.

“Make me.”

“No, I didn’t know him.”

#############

Sighing, you take shaky, anxious steps towards your boyfriend’s office building. When Jacob called saying he forgot his lunch, you debated on telling him you were busy with work stuff of your own before finally deciding to bring him his food. 

He owns the building. It’s not like he’s going to actually be in it 24/7. Plus, if he was he would definitely be on a different floor.

“Hey sweetie. Oh! Thank you so much.”, he grins as he kisses your cheek. “Do you want to sit with me while I eat? We can share or I can buy you something.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m not hungry but I can sit with you.”

Holding your hand, he walked with you to the building cafeteria and like any good girlfriend, you sat next to him listening to him tell you about the long trials and tribulations of his day. You smiled, nodding where you were supposed to and frowning at things he seemed annoyed with. After thirty minutes of his hour lunch, you desperately needed a break. 

“I’m going to go get a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Jacob smiled as you tilted down to kiss him before turning to head towards the area with drinks and food. As you stood there staring into the void of soda options, a strong cologne smell hit your nose that had you dizzy as your eyes fluttered closed. You’d know that smell anywhere, inhaling it so many times in the past. 

Steve smiles as he watches you walk around his room in one of his polos that hangs down your body like a nightgown, just barely covering the love bites and bruises from his fingers that were starting to form on your thighs. Lifting an expensive looking glass bottle to your nose, you grin to yourself as you inhale and put it back down. 

“I love the way that stuff smells.”

“Yeah. My dad says it’s a good smell for ‘classy men’.”, he chuckles.

“Hm. I guess he doesn’t know you very well.”

“Fuck you. I’m classy.”, Steve teases as his grin grows, yanking your arm so you fall on top of him as he folds his hands together behind your lower back. “Classy enough to land a pretty girl like you.”

“Y/N?” 

As you turn your head, your eyes lock with his slightly stunned honey-colored irises as they scan you up and down. You begin to feel slightly self-conscious in your leggings and regular t-shirt compared to his slick black suit and well styled hair.

“Holy shit. What…What are you doing here? Do you work here?”, Steve asks.

“Uh, no. My, uh, my boyfriend actually does.” You turn and point to where he was nonchalantly eating, not even looking in your direction. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad followed through and gave me his company. We finally expanded out of Hawkins so I bought this place.”

“Yeah, I heard. Congratulations.” His eyes continue to rake over you making you more and more anxious the longer you stood there. “Well, I better get back before his hour ends.”

A shiver ran up your spine as his hand reached out to grab your arm. 

“Wait. I’d like to talk to you some more and catch up. Do you want to meet me for dinner? I’m free tonight if you are.”

“Steve… I’m with someone. I can’t have dinner or anything else with an ex or whatever the fuck we were. I’m happy now.”

The smirk that painted his beautiful lips startled you as you stood up straighter.

“Oh your happy, huh? You should tell that to your face. That guy’s your boyfriend? Guy barely seems like he can get it up let alone satisfy a woman like you.”

“Define woman like me?”, you inquire sarcastically. 

“A strong, gorgeous woman who liked to be fucked hard and put in her place.” Steve’s eyes remain on you as your own widen as you look around hoping now one was close enough to hear his not-so-subtle tone. “Tell me, honey, does he know you called me Daddy? I imagine not because if you were my girl and I found out you ever called someone else that you wouldn’t be able to sit down for weeks.”

“Thank God, I’m not your fucking girl.”, you snarled. “You were never man enough to make that commitment.”

As you both stared daggers into each other’s eyes a sudden hand on your shoulder brings you back. 

“Baby, everything ok?”, your boyfriend asks way too calmly. 

“Yeah, Jacob, I’m fine. I was just introducing myself to the owner of your company.”

Steve’s eyes immediately softened as you watched him play the role he always played extremely well; charming and popular.

“Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you, Jacob. Y/N and I go way back.”

“Oh. I thought you said you didn’t know him, sweetie.”

Your ex’s eyes narrow in your direction in faux shock making you sigh in annoyance. 

“I didn’t know him. I knew OF him. Everyone knew who Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was. Unfortunately, I wasn’t popular enough to penetrate his circle.”

“Hm, but I was to penetrate yours.”, he sassed with an arrogant confidence that just made you angry. 

“Nice seeing you again, Harrington. Come on, baby.”

Steve watches you both walk away with a determined gaze that you can feel burning into your back as you headed towards your table.

“He seems nice. What was he like in school? Do you remember?”

“You didn’t call me like you said you would.”

“I was busy, Y/N.”, he answers nonchalantly, not even meeting your eyes as he continues putting things in his locker. “I figured when you didn’t hear from me, you’d just fuck the next guy.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, seriously?! Steve, for some fucking reason I like you. I only want to be with you but it kills me when you don’t follow through with your promises. You say you’ll call and you don’t. You say we’ll go on an official date finally and then last minute you change plans but still call me to come over late at night so you can fuck me. It’s push and pull with you. You act like you want me but then you don’t. I can’t… I can’t keep waiting for you.”

Slamming his locker closed, he finally turns to face you with a look that said he really didn’t care. 

“Then don’t.”

“Yeah…I remember him. Steve Harrington was a complete asshole.”

##############

You managed to steer clear of Steve and anything having to do with him for a few months after your encounter with him until you couldn’t anymore.

“Baby, it’s an office party. Come on, we have to go.”

“Then go, Jacob, but I’d rather just stay here.”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend and this is important to me. Everyone I know will be there including clients. I want them to meet the woman I love.”

You can’t help but sigh at his statement from your place in the closet. You cared about your boyfriend, you genuinely did but love? That was big word with a big meaning. 

“FUCK YOU!”, you shout as you run out into the hallway and yank your arm away from Steve as he tries to stop you while buckling up his pants. “I’m so stupid. DON’T fucking touch me.”

Growling, he pushed you into another empty room and closed the door behind him as he continued to put his clothes back on. 

“Lower your fucking voice—”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want the entire party to know what an asshole you really are!” His hand tries to block your mouth but you angrily swat him away causing him to back up and hold his hands up defensively. “You TOLD ME that we could make this serious. That we would finally have a REAL relationship and then I find you here fucking Lori! Are you kidding me?”

“Y/N, I—”

“I told you I loved you, Steve. I’ve never said that to anyone!” Tears started to fall down your face as you hugged your arms around your body. “You’re never going to claim me, are you? You’re never going to call me your girlfriend. I was just another fuck buddy, wasn’t I?”

When he doesn’t respond, you shove his chest hard. 

“ANSWER ME!”

“YES! YES, OKAY?! Excuse me for not wanting to fucking hurt you. You knew what this was, honey. Its…It’s not my fault…you caught feelings.”

That night you ran. You told your parents you loved them, packed a small bag, and left Hawkins to Indianapolis swearing to yourself that this would never happen again. Ever since that night, you had been so numb to most emotions but especially ones that included romance. 

“Ok. Let me get ready and I’ll meet you downstairs. 

***

If you ran into Steve Harrington again, this time you would be ready. Wearing your shortest black dress and highest black heels, you strutted into Jacob’s office party with a demeanor that had everyone turning their heads. 

With a gigantic grin on his face, your boyfriend introduced you to people and showed you off the way you deserved. 

I should be enjoying this. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be normal!?

“Hey, baby, I’m going to run to the restroom.” 

After giving him a sweet kiss, you powerwalk to the girl’s bathroom and lean over the sink as you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

What’s wrong with me?

The door abruptly opens making you jump as you quickly pretend to be washing hands until a familiar aroma grabs your attention. 

“Steve! What the fuck are you doing?! This is the girl’s bathroom!”

“Pfft like that ever stopped me before.” His eyes hungrily drank you in as you did the same. In high school he always dressed well but it was rare you saw him in suits. Now you imagined he wore them all the time and they accentuated his body in a way that had your mouth watering. 

“I was watching you around the party with your boyfriend. You seem…sad.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Hm. Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

“Fuck off, Harrington. Alright? I left you and Hawkins for a reason. Just give me some peace.”

“Yeah, you did leave. You didn’t even say goodbye.”, he replied with an undertone of anger you couldn’t quite fathom. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. When should I have done that? While you were fucking the school slut or after you told me you didn’t love me.”

“I didn’t say that. I never said I didn’t love you.”

“PLEASE! You said I should have known what our relationship was and it wasn’t your fault I caught feelings for you! What was I supposed to take from that?!”

“Do you think my dad would have let us be together?! A rich Harrington with a poor Y/L/N? This isn’t a fairy tale, Y/N!”

“Of course! Steve Harrington, always looking out for himself!”

“What did you want me to do?!”

“I WANTED YOU TO FIGHT FOR ME!”

The bathroom door swings open again and you quickly grab his arm, shoving him into an empty stall as a group of girls gather at the sinks. As you listen to them talk, your head hangs as your brain swims in memories of the past. 

You never cared that he was a Harrington or that he had a ton of money attached to his name. Even though you two had a lot of bad moments, to you, the good always outweighed them. Steve always knew how to make you laugh and smile (when he showed up). He would come over on Friday nights with a movie and some food (because he didn’t want to risk you both being seen). At night when he would sneak through your window (at 1am), you would lay on his chest and talk about everything you both could think of (after he fucked you like a whore). 

Fingers gently lifted your chin, tilting your head so your eyes could meet his. As a tear fell down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away with his thumb before cupping your face with his hands. You closed your eyes as his lips kissed your forehead, slowly trailing them down to your nose, and hovering just above your own.

Closing the distance, you pulled his mouth to yours as your palms slid down his back, trying to bring him closer to your body. 

You never forgot the taste of his kisses but you were grateful for the reminder. 

After forcing open your legs with his knee, your dress hiked up a bit allowing him easier access to your panty covered core as his hand effortlessly pressed the silky materiel against your clit. Biting your lip to stifle the moan, you felt him smile as his mouth latched on to your neck. Your eyes rolled as his tongue licked your skin and his fingers moved your underwear out of the way so he could guide two of them into your entrance.

Steve’s elbow locked in place as your knees started to buckle, holding you against the tile wall as you clung to his shoulders. It took every ounce of energy you had to remain quiet as his digits curled inside of you. The girls outside of the stall continued to gossip, completely unaware that the owner of their company was about to make their coworker’s girlfriend come undone.

Leaning back to look at you, the tip of his nose lightly grazed yours as your mouth fell open in a silent moan. Nodding his head, his beautiful eyes were begging you for something he needed you to say. Something he hadn’t heard since you left and you hadn’t said to anyone but him. 

“Please…Daddy.”, you mouthed and without hesitation he gripped the back of your neck, pulling your head to his shoulder as he pumped his fingers faster into your cunt.

The bathroom door banged shut as the women left and a loud moan you had been holding on to echoed through the room as you reached down to grip his wrist, trembling against him as you came. Yanking you back, he crashed his lips to yours as your tongues mingled together. 

“Please…please…”, you whimper as you push at his hand.

“It’s been a while, huh? Since you’ve had something big inside of you.”, he teased, grinning when your breathily laughed. “God, I missed you so much. I thought about you every day for the past five years. I love you, honey.” 

Something in your look gave him pause as he scanned your face. 

“What?” Pushing him backwards, you threw open the door to the stall while adjusting your dress and quickly checking yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked at least how you did when you came in here. “Hey, talk to me. What’s—”

As he reached for your arm, you turned around and smacked his cheek.

“How dare you. You think after everything you put me through you can just walk back into my life and expect things to be how they were?! I’m in a healthy relationship for once. He doesn’t bail on dates or disappear when I need him. Jacob actually shows me off and tells people I’m his girlfriend that he loves! I don’t cry every night because of something he said or did! I don’t—”

“Have sex the way you want?”, Steve interrupted snidely. “You don’t actually have any fucking fun because he’s so fucking boring you just want to walk into traffic. He doesn’t challenge you or make feel needed. He doesn’t know how fucking numb you really are. Jesus…”, he snickers. “You’re definitely not the same girl that left me.”

“That’s right because you broke her fucking heart!”

“Does he know that you don’t love him?” You freeze by the door at his question. “Does he know that you, honey, are exactly like me whether you like it or not. There’s a reason you’ve thought of me every day to. That’s the same reason you’re afraid to leave him.”

“Our relationship…was toxic…”

Tilting his head to the side, he reached into his suit pocket, grabbing a pack of cigarettes, and lighting one between his teeth. 

“That may be but that also doesn’t change the fact that you and I, baby girl, thrive on that shit.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head before addressing him and turning to leave.

“Stay away from me, Steven.”

#############

“Oof.”, Jacob groans as he slinks out of his suit jacket and throws himself down on the sofa. “It was a long day. We have a big account that landed in our lap and even your friend has been staying late to help.”

“He’s not my friend.”, you mumble as you continue focusing on the sink in front of you. 

You hadn’t been able to shake Steve from your brain since the party. Hell, you hadn’t been able to shake him for the last 5 years. You thought about him constantly but knew he was bad for you. Part of what got you through the heartache was telling yourself that he wasn’t missing you; that he didn’t care at all where you were or if you were even happy. 

But here he was telling you the opposite. Was he lying or did he genuinely care? From the few interactions you had with him he still seemed exactly the same. God, why couldn’t you get the warm fuzzy feelings he gave you with someone healthy?! Why did you have to fall in love with him? Why did he rile you up and get you going but by doing the worst things. 

“Honey? Are you alright? You seem kind of—”

“I’m fine, Jacob. I’m just exhausted.”

His hand gently caressed your back as his chin rested on your shoulder. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

Angrily, you slammed the plate in your hand back into sink, lightly pushing him aside as you entered the living room and began to pace. 

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“STOP BEING SO FUCKING NICE TO ME!”, you shout as frustrated tears began to fall. “Why do you alwayshave to be so nice?”

“How else should I be, Y/N?”

“I don’t know! Fucking…tell me to stop being a bitch or raise your voice a little bit. Throw me against a wall and fuck me into submission.” 

“Y/N, I still don’t get it. You’re telling me you want me to hurt you?”

“NO! I just want you to stop being so fucking passive! Show a bit more passion! How can you live life like this!? If you’re angry just be fucking angry and then do something about it!”

Placing his hands on his hips, his eyes glance over you as if confused on how to proceed. 

“You know what? Um, fuck it. I’m sorry, honey. I just…I had a weird day and I’m taking it out on you.” Wiping your eyes, you hastily grab your jacket from the nearby closet, and sling it over your shoulders. “I’m just going to go for a drive.”

“Y/N, wait! It’s pouring!”

Shutting the door, you cut him off as you stand in the yard and let the rainwater hit your face. It had been so long since you felt amped up like this. Backing out of your driveway, you head to the one person you know will understand.

***

“Yeah? What? I’m busy.”

“Uh Mr. Harrington, there’s a young lady here that says she knows you and was wondering if she could come up to talk to you.”

“I see. Carl? Does the young lady have a name or are we just letting any random women into the building?”,Steve asked the security guard sarcastically through intercom that connected to the top two floors. 

“Um, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Ok, send her up.”, he sighs almost as if he’s annoyed by your presence. 

You bounce anxiously in the elevator as you take the ride up to the top floor and as soon as the doors ding open, you power walk towards the lighted up office at the end of hall.

“Y/N.”, Steve exhales without looking in your direction. “I’m extremely busy so if this isn’t important then make it quick.” When his eyes finally land on your soaked, agitated frame, his whole demeanor shifted as he came around his desk and cupped your face in his hands. “Jesus Christ, honey. What the fuck is going on? Are you alright?”

Tilting up on your toes, you hungerly press your lips against his.

“Baby…Baby…hang on…Stop!”, he shouts sternly as he pulls you back. “Tell me what happened right now.”

“You said you missed me and that you loved me.”, you pant as you try to tug out of his grip. “I didn’t. I didn’t miss you at all. The only thing I ever loved about you was your dick, Harrington.”

His eyes narrowed as his head tilted trying to get a read on you. 

“Why are you lying, little girl? You’re not supposed to lie to me remember?”

“Said the liar. I bet you didn’t miss me either with all that pussy you were getting back at Hawkins.”

“I can get pussy and still miss yours. The only difference is I actually enjoyed fucking those gorgeous women. When’s the last time you were fucked properly?”

“Jacob can get the job done. Trust me.”, you sass. 

“Then tell me, baby, why are you here with me?”

“Because I’m an idiot! Maybe, I should go home.”

As you turned to leave, he roughly grabbed your arm, spun you around, and kissed you again. It was a rough kiss loaded with need as you both clung to each other, you a bit more desperately than him. 

“Where’s my girl? I want my Y/N.”, he snarled angrily as he pulled your hair back, tilting your face up to meet his. 

“I told you. She’s gone.”

“I don’t believe you.” Pushing you down onto your knees, he continues to hold you firmly as he unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants with one hand. “I think she’s still there. She’s just hidden behind this false facade of someone ‘normal’.” As his slacks fall to his ankles, his cock springs free, and you salivate at the sight as he pumps it slowly in front of your face. “But we aren’t normal, are we, baby?”

As you try to lean forward to take him into your mouth, Steve pulls on your hair harder forcing you back while leaning down till his face was just inches above your own. 

“Ah, see? There she is. Hidden right under there.” His tone is full of snark but his beautiful features remain stoic as he continues to glare down at you. “Come on, honey. Give me what you got.”

Rearing back, a glob of spit leaves your mouth and lands just above his nose.

“Fuck you, Steve Harrington. I hate you.”

Wiping his hand over his face, he collects your saliva and strokes it along his cock.

“Jesus, baby, your anger and attitude just really fucking get me off.” Lifting you off your knees, he pushes you onto his desk, tearing off your jacket and shirt before slamming your back against the wood as your head hangs over the other side. 

You try to get up but he’s faster, holding his palm against your chest as he comes around his desk. 

“You remember our word right, Y/N? I wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot it. I imagine you haven’t needed it with the extremely mundane almost tedious style sex you’ve been having over the years.”, he chuckles, laughing at his own snark as you pout angrily beneath him. “DO you remember?”

“Yes I fucking remember!”

The palm on your chest slides easily up your skin and takes hold of your throat.

“Yes, you remember what?”

“I remember our safe word.”

Rolling his eyes, he lets you go just long enough to slap your cheek hard before holding you down again. 

“Yes, WHAT?!”

“YES, DADDY, I REMEMBER OUR FUCKING WORD!”

Steve’s hand moves behind your head, holding you up slightly as his leaking tip touches your lips, exhaling heavily when your tongue darts out to lick his slit and you moan at the taste of him. Opening your mouth wider, you allow him to push his cock in till he promptly hits the back of your throat making you gag. 

“That’s it, baby, take it like a good girl.”

Thrusting his hips, you flatten your tongue allowing him to use you as he pleases. Abruptly, the phone blares on his desk startling you but annoying him as he angrily grunts at the device. 

“God fucking damn it. Can’t have one fucking moment. Don’t move.”, he growls as he leans over to pick up the receiver. “Yeah, this is Harrington.” His long fingers grip your hair tighter as his cock subtly slides between your lips unable to remain still as your wet, slobber filled mouth warms him. 

“Seriously? This is why you called at 10pm? We have it covered. I have faith in the employees here.”

Even though his voice remained relatively calm despite what was happening, you knew him well enough to know he was using all his energy to do so. Deciding to rile him further, your hand reached up above you and gently massaged his balls the way you knew drove him crazy back in school. 

“Look, stop panicking. I-I-I…” You smiled in triumph as Steve stuttered over his words. “Fuck. No not you. Clark, just…just tell my dad to calm the fuck down. I haven’t run his company into the ground yet and I don’t…don’t plan on doing it any time soon.”

Slamming the phone back on the hook, he grips the side of your head with both hands as he thrusts his hips at a faster pace. 

“Did you think that was funny, little girl?! Did you think it was funny watching me squirm?” Holding you still, he stops moving when he feels your nose against his sack, grunting as your throat constricts around him. “That’s it, you fucking brat. Choke on it.”

Pulling himself all the way out, he allows you to collect air and watches with pride as the tears streak down your face. Once he feels like you’ve had enough of a break, he shoves his cock back down your throat, holding you still as you gag and drool around him. 

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he tugs you off him and walks around to the other side of the desk while shuffling off his pants as he unbuttons his shirt. 

“Come here, baby.”

As you fully sit up, you raise your hips so he can aggressively yank down your pants with your panties. Bringing you towards the edge of his desk, he falls to his knees, and puts your cunt on display for himself as he uses his fingers to hold open your puffy lips. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. I missed this pussy so much. You always smelled so fucking good.” You moan as Steve’s nose grazes your clit and his tongue licks between your folds. “Shit. And you tasted so fucking delicious to.”

His head falls between your legs and your fingers tangle in hair as he devours you like you were his last meal. The obscene sounds of slurps and his tongue flicking in and out of your core has you clenching tightly around him as your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Please, don’t stop, Steve. Oh my god.”, you whine. 

As your hips start to buck against him, his strong hands hold you down forcing you to stay still. You continue petting his head, occasionally tugging on his fluffy, soft strands making his groan reverberate through you. 

The phone beside you blares loudly again and he grunts in agitation as he gets to his feet, grabbing the cord to yank it from the wall. 

Taking his place between your legs, you both moan as he runs his mushroom tip along you slit and rests his forehead on yours.

“Beg me, Y/N. Tell me how bad you want my cock that you love oh so much and not me.”

“Please, Steve, I need—”

His palm around your throat cuts you off.

“No, little girl. Remember? You don’t care about me anymore. You don’t give a fuck about Steve Harrington. All you want is my dick right? Well, honey, this dick belongs to Daddy so beg him.”, he growled causing your breath to hitch. 

“Please, Daddy. I’m sorry. I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you fill me up.”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“No.”, you whisper, your answer intriguing him as his head shifts to the side. “But I need it.”

Your hands run up his chest till you reach his neck, clinging to him as he slowly guides himself inside of you. You mouth dropped open in the shape of an O as he gradually pumps his hips, pushing himself deeper into your heat. 

“God damnit, Y/N, how long has it been? Your pussy isn’t used to a big cock anymore is she? You’re so fucking tight.”

“Still s-so cocky.”

Steve chuckles lightly, his head hanging as he bottoms out. 

“Still a fucking brat.”

Gripping both your thighs, he pulls back before thrusting his length hard inside of you, practically punching the air from your lungs. Falling flat onto his desk, he finds a steady pace that leaves the two of you panting and moaning.

Leaning his upper body over yours, his lips kiss yours sloppily as your tongues dance together.

“Fuck, baby girl, no one has ever taken my cock as well as you.” His face falls into the nook between your neck and shoulder as he bites at the flesh. “This pussy was made for me, Y/N.”

“Harder, Daddy.”

Taking hold of you, he lifts you off his desk and places you on the floor, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder as he pounds into you.

“Like that, honey? Yeah. Daddy knows. Daddy can take care of you.” With one hand clinging to your leg for leverage, he utilizes his other to bring his thumb to your clit making you whimper as his cock abuses your g-spot. “Cum, pretty girl. Cum all over my dick.”

Perching yourself up on your elbows, your eyes lock with his giving him more determination to push you over that ledge. When you do finally fall, he grunts at the feeling, fucking you through it as his thumb moves faster against you. 

“Atta girl. Fuck me. Your pussy won’t stop pulling me in. You really needed Daddy, huh, baby?”

Shakily your hand grabbed his wrist, silently begging him to stop and to your surprise he did, bringing his palm up to caress your cheek. Focusing on his own pleasure, he slammed into you so hard that you knew you would be sore tomorrow. 

Falling flat against your body, he rolled his hips a few more times before warming your insides with his release. 

The two of you laid together quietly for a few moments until he finally rolled on to his back. Sneaking a glance your way, Steve noticed you were trembling and sat up to grab his jacket off the floor where he had tossed it to place it over your body like a blanket. 

“Thank you.”, you murmur as you bring it up closer to your neck. 

“For the jacket or the sex?” As you turn your head to look at him, he does the same. “That’s what you came here for right? Because I know it wasn’t for me. I guaran-God damn-tee if your boyfriend or any other guy fucked you the way I did, you’d be with them right now.”

“You’re right.” Steve huffed as he fully sat up and leaned against the sofa he had in his office. “What do you want me say, Harrington? I tried for two years to get you to claim me and every time you pushed me away.”

“And every time you still came back.”

“So that gave you license to treat me like garbage?!”

“No! I’m just… I’m just saying there’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah and not a good one. Steve…what we have…had… yeah the sex is amazing but everything else is unhealthy. The missed dates, angry calls, the fighting, the fucking cheating… we are toxic.”

He sighs heavily before giving you his full attention.

“Yeah, well, if we’re toxic then I’d rather go down with you than anyone else.” Shaking your head, you get to your feet as you quickly grab your clothes and start to put them on. “I know you feel the same, Y/N, or else you wouldn’t be here. You like all that bullshit because at least you’re feeling something other than fucking boredom. Trust me, I tried to. I tried doing the healthy ‘normal’ thing. I wanted to fucking gouge my eyes out by the end of the day. It took me awhile to realize that all the women I was with including her… I just kept wishing they were you.”

“This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, no, no, honey. Please, trust me. I feel like we can make this work.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Backing away from you, he folded his arms as he leaned against his desk. You knew this look very well, always referring to it as “the shutdown”. His wall was going up which means he was going to make this situation as complicated as possible.

The butterflies in your tummy fluttered in anticipation at the notion.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I be normal?

“Ok, Y/N. We can play this game but just remember, little girl, I’m way better at it than you.”

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@daysinthephoenix @sophiejayne-illustrations713