#everything is later she refuses to accept that this is Right Fucking Now

[nexus-nebulae]

how to explain to 60 year old white woman that constantly "putting it off until later" means that eventually you cannot put it off any longer and it gets significantly worse the longer you don't do it

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

options for if vaggie and alastor found out about each other's dancing skills

Alastor better at dancing than Vaggie and everyone can see it - Boring. - Changes and challenges nothing. - A crime against Alastor simps and Vaggie simps alike.

Vaggie and Alastor both better than each other at dancing their specific preferred dance styles but no one else can tell - Better. - Both get a chance to show off and get shown up. - Unwillingly bonding over being the only ones at the hotel who can fully see the other's skill and being a little nauseous over it.

They're equally matched in everything and both know it. - Getting juicy. - Dance off of increasing frustration. - Everyone can tell they're hating every minute of it and are only trying to beat the other but also no one can get them to stop until Charlie literally steals her gf away.

Vaggie is slightly better but only Alastor notices - Yessss. - Vaggie can tell he's getting even more high strung and dramatic than usual but they're literally just dancing so what the fuck. - Alastor casually announcing that was the most unpleasant dance of his life and one he will NEVER be repeating again while Charlie steps in for the next dance with Vaggie very confused bc her gf is a great dancer??? What?

Vaggie is clearly better than him and everyone sees it - ITS A M-M-MENTAL BREAKDOWN!!! - He refuses to accept this outcome and keeps asking (challenging) her to another dance. - Great B-plot gag potential, Vaggie's exasperated, Alastor's cheering himself up by annoying her about it, by the end of the night Vaggie stalks out of the ballroom firmly telling the radio demon No! You stay! STAY! Don't follow me! while he trails after waving her forged dance card with his name rewritten all over it.

Vaggie is WAY better than him, sees how much that unsettles him, and is SMUG about it - A quiet Alastor is a Alastor who's going through it. - Husk is not quiet, Husk is CHEERING. - "viscerally disgusted at the thought of anyone actually being his superior in anything" Alastor meets "always the follower who rarely gets shown any damn respect even by herself" Vaggie - Vaggie switching between using Alastor like an inanimate prop and uno reverse guiding him into steps he has to stumble through, smirking the whole time. - Alastor says nothing until the very end, where he bows politely and askes who or what VAGGIE uses dancing to try to forgetting about. - Charlie doesn't hear that part but does see her gf hurry outside right afterwards and goes worriedly after her, which Alastor watches before going to sit quietly at the bar and get drunk while a now terrified Husk pretends not to exist. - Heading upstairs later with an extra few bottles Alastor passes by a partly open door and catches a glimpse of chaggie slow dancing inside in the dark, with Vaggie's exorcist wings out. - he leaves them one of the liquor bottles before moving on - Up in his radio tower Alastor puts on a record labeled mother's favorites and has it on repeat for the rest of the night. - Vaggie handles complaints the next day from demons banging on the hotel door screaming about being driven half out of their minds by the looping broadcast that affected every audio device for several several city blocks around the hotel last night. - She tells them all it was a hard night for some people and to get fucking lost. - Vaggie dropping an empty bottle off at Alastor's door with some black coffee and a note reading "thanks for the hangover asshole" - he puts the note in the bottle and keeps it. probably in the mouth a decapitated deer head. - Alastor and Vaggie and the horrifying idea they might have more than a love of dancing and multiple murders in common. - Charlie changes their official hotel status on the official hotel enemies / frienimes / alliances chart board to "FRIENDS!!!" afterwards and they both physically cringe back at seeing it.

[smoochkooks]

—chapter twenty: this hope is treacherous

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, smut

word count: 2.4k words summary: it is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. but for a while, you did.

previous || next

Jungkook [Thursday, May 3rd, 05:32 pm]

How did it go? Soojin says everything’s fine between you

Want to grab bulgogi on Saturday? Same place as usual

Jungkook [Saturday, May 5th, 01:05 am]

Is everything alright? You haven’t been answering my texts

Jungkook [Saturday, may 5th, 03:45 pm]

Can I call you?

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th, 9:33 am]

Are you sick? Do you need something? I can drop by later today after work

I’m worried

Why are you not responding????

YN?

You [Wednesday, May 9th 06:15 pm]

Jungkook, sorry I have been MIA this past few days. I needed some time to think and I decided I want to keep some distance between us from now on.

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:23 pm]

What are you talking about? I thought we were good.

Did Soojin say something to you?

You  [Wednesday, May 9th  06:25 pm]

No, nothing happened. Soojin accepted my apology and she decided to move on, as I think we all should.

It was solely my decision and I need you to respect it

One missed call from: Jungkook

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:26 pm]

You won’t even answer my calls?

Come on YN, this is ridiculous

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  08:15 pm]

Fine. I’ll respect your decision. Can I at least talk to you in person about it?

Please

“You’ve been staring at your phone for the past ten minutes, babe. Jungkook’s not going jump out of it, you can calm down for a sec.” Dahyun says from her place on your couch.

It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays for Dahyun are reserved for self-care, which often means trying out new face mask recipes she saw on TikTok. And since, as she stated a long time ago, “You’re my bestest friend, ever, ___” you are obligated to take part in it as well. If you refuse to participate, you should gear up for the Cheong Dahyun’s wrath.

That’s why you’re currently soaking your feet in a mixture of soap, bathing oils and a secret ingredient Dahyun doesn’t want to disclose, with a hydrating sheet mask on your face.

You lock your phone and throw it to the other side of the couch. “I should probably just ignore him completely.”

Dahyun rips off her sheet mask in a way too dramatic manner and turns to look at you. “And let that she-devil win? Fuck, no!” she blurts out.

You snort. “She-devil?”

“I would call her the b-word but I’m trying to cut down on derogatory terms when referring to women, even those who deserve to be called that,” she explains, massaging her neck with the sheet mask’s oily residue. “Anyway, I think you should tell Jungkook the truth. She’s manipulating both you and him!”

“If a say a word to Jungkook, she’s going to write a post on her social media and not only expose me, but also accuse of having an affair with him.” you reason.

“Just tell Jungkook she’s threatening you. He’s going to see right-through her bullshit, leave her alone and be with you,” Dahyun shrugs like your predicament isn’t complex at all, and motions for you to take your feet out of the water. She tosses you a white towel and hands an opaque container. “Now put that onto your feet. Girls on TikTok are saying they will feel like heaven. And smell like lavender too!”

You scoop the cream onto your nail and sigh. “It’s not that easy. She is his wife and he loves her, of course he will take her side. He might not even believe me,” you say. Your eyebrows involuntarily rise, inhaling the cream’s scent. “It does smell like lavender.”

Dahyun makes ‘I told you so’ face before replying, “You’ve got twenty years of friendship on her.”

 “And unrequited crush, and a whole book about it.” you point out.

“I forgot how complicated your life has become these days,” Dahyun says, shaking her head. “So what? You’re just going to give up? Ignore his messages, calls, don’t answer the door when he’s on the other side, hide in the bush when you’ll  randomly see him on the street and only contact him once a year for his birthday?” she asks.

Initially, your plan was to wait a few weeks after your confrontation with Soojin and eventually things would get back to normal, slowly and steadily. You’re used to being on stand-by, after all. But that was before you actually met up with her to talk. Before she’s threatened to reveal your biggest secret to the whole world. Variété would never grant you another book deal after such scandal. You would be ruined for good and blacklisted by every single publishing company in this country. You can’t risk your career like that. Not now, not when you’re already working on your new book and this time you decided to release it under your real name.

You think about your parents. What would they think about their daughter? Surely they would feel disappointed. Lastly, you think about Jungkook. If you let Soojin get away with her threats, you might lose Jungkook for good. And that would slowly kill you.

“Okay, fine. I will try to talk to him about it.” you finally decide.

Dahyun claps her hands. “I knew it! Gosh, You’re down bad for this man, aren’t you?” she asks, grinning.

“Stop teasing me or I’m going to cancel our next self-care Wednesday.”

She gasps. “You wouldn’t. I have gua-sha massages planned for that day.”

“Try me!”

You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:08 pm]

Okay. We can talk in person

Jungkook  [Wednesday, May 9th 11:09 pm]

I’m visiting Busan this weekend. Soojin has a business trip so I’ll be alone

Would you like to go with me?

You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:12 pm]

Busan is fine by me. I missed my parents

I will take the train though.

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th 11:13 pm]

See you there

“There she is! My lovely daughter!”

It’s the first thing you hear after getting off the train at the railway station in Busan. Your mum hugs you tight and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Your dad couldn’t leave work earlier today so I’m picking you up instead,” She puts her hands on your shoulders and eyes you carefully. The smile she was wearing just seconds ago leaves her face. “I can tell you haven’t been eating well! What have I told you? You need to eat or you won’t have any energy!”

There it is. The world could be on fire and your mom would still worry about you not eating enough. Twenty-something years have gone by, and she’s still relentlessly reminding you to do so.

You roll your eyes, as you always do. “What did you make for dinner, then?” you ask, opening the car’s trunk and putting your bag there.

Your mom’s mood instantly lights up. “Chicken soup and jajangmyeon, your favorite,” she answers and starts the engine. “By the way, Jungkookie is also at his parents’, he arrived yesterday. Why haven’t you come with him?”

“I had a meeting at the publishing company that I couldn’t postpone,” you lie. “I’m meeting him later today, though.”

“I can’t believe my daughter is going to be a published author so-hey, you idiot! Who gave you a driving license?!�� she yells. The young driver raises his hand in apology and your mom huffs. “It’s always the young ones! Anyway, do you know that Jungkook never visits his parents with that wife of his? I’ve only seen her once, during their engagement party for the whole family. You know which one, they did a big barbecue in the backyard. She seemed nice then, but a bit too standoffish, don’t you think? She comes from money, right?”

“Yeah, her parents own a company in Seoul that distributes vegetables and fruits all over the country. They also export, I think.” you reply, staring at the busy streets of Busan. You would probably rather talk about sex with your mom than discuss Jungkook’s marriage life, but your mom is a busy-body and loves gossip too much to let that slide.

To say the last, Soojin’s father is a big name in the industry. Jungkook told you once that he had to attend a dinner with Soojin and her parents, hosted by the minister of agriculture. You remember how much Jungkook worried he might not fit in the family. Soojin grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth, attending private schools and going on vacations overseas. The summer after they officially had started dating, Jungkook worked two jobs so he could afford to go to Thailand with her. What was a standard for Soojin, was a hard-earned commodity for Jungkook.

Your mom whistles. “No wonder she doesn’t like coming here to Busan. Too posh for that, ha! And especially now, with two extra people in the house. Oh, ___, they are such cute babies! Everyone is head over heels for them.” she says, beaming.

You smile to yourself. Junghyun, Jungkook’s older brother, got married four years before him to his high school sweetheart and few months ago she got birth to twins. Knowing Jungkook, he’s probably spoiling them with presents every time he visits.

And speaking of the devil, you notice his car immediately as your mom pulls up to your driveway. With a heavy sigh, you brace yourself for what’s to come.

Four years ago, Junghyun’s wedding party

“So, my dear brother, when am I going to dance at your wedding?”

Junghyun was clearly drunk, his speech slurred as he wrapped his hands around Jungkook’s shoulders and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. You giggled, positively buzzed yourself.

“I’m twenty-one and I just got back from the military. Let me live a little.” Jungkook grumbled and shoved his older brother away.

Really, it had been a little over two months now. His hair had grown into a nice length, the buzzcut long gone. He had gotten more buff, his dress shirt holding for dear life in some places. He’s matured, no longer a nineteen-year-old who had just finished high school but a grown adult.

Truth to be told, you missed him terribly.

Junghyun sat next to Jungkook, opened yet another soju bottle and poured a shot for each one of you. “To my beautiful wife Mina. I love you, honey!” he shouted and downed the alcohol. You could see Mina from across the room shaking her head with a soft smile playing on her lips. You grew up watching them fall for each other more and more with every passing day. If soulmates existed, Mina and Junghyun were definitely destined to be together.

“What about that birdie you’re dating now, huh? Sodam or something? Huh?” Junghyun asked, poking Jungkook in the ribs teasingly.

Jungkook’s already flushed cheeks, reddened ever more. “Her name’s Soojin and we are not dating. We went on one date,” he said sternly. “Besides, she’s out of my league. Her parents are super rich. Do you know she’s been to Paris this summer? She probably doesn’t know how cup noodles taste like!”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing, then.” Junghyun shrugged his shoulders. He poured himself another shot of soju and looked at you, then at his younger brother, his face weirdly serious all of a sudden. “You know what I think?” he asked.

“I haven’t gained the ability to read your thoughts yet, hyung.”

Junghyun smacked Jungkook’s head. “Aish, who taught you to speak like that to your hyung?” You knew that, from the way Jungkook was biting his lips to refrain from laughing, that he wanted so badly to answer: “You did!”, but he decided to let Junghyun continue his drunken monologue. “I think that you and ___ will end up together one day.”

You tried to conceal your surprised expression with a chuckle. “Me and Jungkook? Please, I wouldn’t stand his ass.”

“Hey!”

Junghyun shook his head. “I’m serious. Best relationships, the ones that last years and years, are made out of friendship. Your partner should be your best friend! Look at our parents! Look at me and Mina! We’ve been friends throughout the whole middle school, tiptoeing around each other before one us decided to finally make a move. And now we’re married.” he said, his gaze longingly fixated on his wife. You dared to glance at Jungkook, thinking you’d find him amused by his brother’s drunken speech, but he was looking at Junghyun, not a hint of smile on his lips. “I think that it might take you a while to get there but eventually, I’ll dance at your wedding. And I’ll be really, really happy to do so.”

It is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. But for a while, you did. You replayed that moment over and over again in your head. You thought about Jungkook, his stoic expression while listening to his older brother. How he did not protest. How maybe, he could too imagine that happening. But then he went on another date with Soojin, and another. Started working extra hours to afford her lifestyle. Years gone by, and for some unknown reason, you still hold that memory close to your broken heart. 

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Confessions (Azriel x Reader) - Part Two

wc: 3.7k

warnings: smut! minors dni!

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on part 1!! hope yall enjoy!

Read Part One

Once you are alone again, you immediately go in search of Azriel. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear your lips are still tingling from where he kissed you. You don’t even know what you would say to him after royally fucking up that entire conversation, but you have to try. His usual spots were no luck, as were his room and basically the rest of the House of Wind.

He’s gone. Fuck.

The next best option to to go find Mor and hopefully sort through some of the thoughts racing inside your head. You find her in her room, lounging on her bed reading. She gives you that same worried and apologetic look from earlier, but you stop her before she can apologize again.

“Don’t say anything. It's fine, I’m fine. But we need to talk, like right now.” You say anxiously and sit on her bed with her. After you repeat to her everything that Azriel had said, Mor is beaming from ear to ear.

“He really said that? Holy gods, y/n! What did he say when you told him you felt the same way?” Her eyes are wide with excitement.

“Well…. I didn’t. Feyre interrupted to check on me, and then he left before I could tell him anything. And now he’s nowhere to be found.” You sigh and try to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh y/n. I’m sorry.” She says softly and wraps an arm around you. “He just left? He didn’t even give you a chance to say how you feel?” She questions.

“Not exactly…” you draw back, embarrassed. “He was basically begging me to tell him I felt the same, but I completely froze and didn’t say anything.” I murmur and look at my hands, ashamed.

“Y/n!” Mor yells.

“I know, I know! I’m a gods damn idiot! This is what I have wanted for literally centuries, but once I finally get a chance… I completely fuck it up!” You flop back onto her bed in defeat, running your hands over your face. “I don’t know what happened! He kissed me, and I just froze! What is wrong with me?” You groan. Mor rubs a soothing hand on your arm.

“It will be okay. You said he wasn’t anywhere in the House of Wind, so he probably found some mission that sent him away for a few days, just like he always does when he is avoiding his problems.” She reassures. You nod in agreement. “In the meantime, you need to figure out what the hell you are even gonna say to him, because you really can’t fuck it up again." She chuckles, and you throw a pillow at her.

“Not helpful, Mor!” You laugh.

———

Days pass, and there is no word from Azriel. Rhys said he should be back by the end of the week and even used his daemati powers to request that he return earlier, but Azriel refused.

You try not to let his absence and your lingering anxiety about the situation bother you too much. On the outside, you go about your day as normal, but internally, you feel like a complete gods damn mess.

———

The weekend arrives, and you anxiously await any news that Azriel is back. You don’t even bother trying to be subtle, checking the hallway between your rooms every time you hear the slightest noise.

Soon it is well after midnight, and you begin to accept that he isn’t coming home any time soon. You wander down to the kitchens in search of something overly sweet to ease your sorrows. Several chocolate chunk cookies later, courtesy of Elain, you still don’t feel much better. You stare out the kitchen window while you eat, lost in thought of what to do now.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something move. You turn around to look, but no one is there. You were about to call it a night and go back to your room when you see the shadows in the corner moving ever so slightly. Your breath catches in your throat and you stare at the wisps of darkness. Could it be?

Two small shadows dart out of the corner toward you. Having been caught, they move closer and swirl around your legs eagerly.

The cool sensation makes you giggle, and you look down at them, ignoring the ache in your chest that it wasn’t him. But he must be here somewhere if his shadows are back. You rush up to your room, shadows trailing behind you. Just as you turn onto your hallway, you see Azriel standing outside his door. He stops and stares at you for a moment, a pained look in his eyes. Before you can say anything, he quickly slips into his room and shuts the door.

Okay, ouch. You get that he might not want to talk, but he could at least be civil. The two shadows at your side linger for a moment before slipping under his door as well. Once again, you are alone.

———

Morning comes after a very poor night’s sleep. You wait until the sun peaks above the horizon before stepping into the hall and sitting on the floor against the wall, waiting for Azriel. Half an hour passes, and he still hasn’t emerged from his room. That’s unusual, he’s usually up to train by now. You knock on his door, but the other side is silent. He must already be gone.

You make your way to the training ring, and thankfully you found him there. Azriel and Cassian were sparring hand-to-hand in the ring, and it was apparently a very intense match since they were both glistening with sweat. Azriel faces away from you, so you can only see his shirtless back, but holy gods his back. You can’t help but stare as his broad shoulders move and his muscles ripple. Cassian finally notices you after several minutes and smirks at you, stopping the match. Azriel looks behind himself in confusion, but his expression immediately changes to panic when he sees you.

Well, it’s now or never. He will just keep evading you if you don’t talk to him now. You walk over to the training ring.

“Good morning, boys. Cass, do you mind if I step in and practice my sparring with Azriel? I’m a bit rusty and could use his help.” You ask sweetly, giving him a very obvious glare that says to leave. You’re not sure what all Azriel has told him, but he catches the hint immediately.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I have to, uh… go find Nesta.” He hurries off, leaving you alone with Azriel.

Azriel takes a step, like he wants to leave too, but you step in front of him.

“What do you want, y/n?” His prominent dark circles and sad eyes make your chest ache.

“I told you, I want to practice sparring. Just like we used to.” You give a hopeful smile and pull your hair up. He sighs in defeat and steps back into the ring with you. His shadows inch forward like they want to approach you, but ultimately stay by his side.

“Fine. But I don’t want to talk.” He mumbles. You nod and get into your fighting stance. He seems very apprehensive to attack first, so you make the first move. After a few minutes, the two of you get into the groove of it, moving so naturally with one another.

“You. Don’t have. To talk.” You say breathlessly between attempted punches. “But I’m gonna.” He obviously doesn’t like that, so he starts fighting back harder in an attempt to keep you from talking. You smirk at his increase in effort, dodging his punches. “Nice try. You forget who trained me.” The side of his mouth upticks ever so slightly.

“You’re right. That means I know all your moves.” He says smugly and avoids your attack. You try not to let his voice distract you, but damn, it’s so nice to finally hear him talk somewhat normally to you after so long.

“Last week, I didn’t-“ He swings at you, causing your words to cut off. You step aside and try again. "As I was saying-“ Another swing. You give him an annoyed glare and he just shrugs. “Azriel, will you please just let me ta-“ You dodge another attack. This is ridiculous, and it ends now. Quicker than he can react, you move behind him and knock his feet out from under him with one swift kick, immediately moving to pin his arms down and straddle his waist. Azriel half-heartedly fights back for a moment before giving up.

“Fine. You win. Can you let me go?” He avoids your gaze. You tighten your grip on his wrists. Azriel’s shadows wrap themselves around your legs, and you savor the familiar feeling of their chill.

“No. You’re gonna let me talk.” You and Azriel both know he could get out of your hold in a matter of seconds, but the fact that he doesn’t means he must be willing to hear you out. You take a deep breath and focus your spiraling thoughts. Azriel gives a silent nod, still looking anywhere but your eyes.

“Look, I messed up last week. I was still kinda freaked out about what happened with Mikael.” Azriel flinches at the name, his expression turning murderous.

“Fucking piece of shit got what he deserved.” Azriel mutters under his breath. You try not to think too hard about what that means, but the blood on his clothes last week makes it pretty clear what happened.

“Anyway, I was still freaked out, and then you were asking me to tell you if I meant what I said that night, and I just got embarrassed and panicked.” You take a deep breath. This is it. “I’ve spent centuries trying to hide my feelings from you. I even tried dating other males, but ultimately each relationship ended because I put you before them. And when you started spending more time with Elain, I got jealous and decided that I had to try and move on for real. So when you asked me to tell you how I felt, I just couldn’t handle the heartache. And then you kissed me, and every single thought left my brain. I heard you tell me how you felt, I heard you ask me to tell you I felt the same, but I couldn’t form the words Az.” He finally looks up at you, his eyes wide and hopeful. “And you left before I could get my shit together and tell you. So let me say it now. I have loved you, as more than my best friend, for longer than I can remember Az. I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out how to say that last week.” He looks surprised. "It's always been you.” You repeat the words he told you last week.

A moment passes. Then two. And then his hands are free from your grip, pulling you close to him and kissing you deeply. You don’t hesitate this time, kissing him back with just as much passion. Azriel’s hips lift slightly, making you suddenly very aware of your current position. You hesitantly move yourself to go from straddling his waist to straddling his hips, unsure of what exactly he wants to happen. He freezes for a moment, causing you to overthink and pull away slightly, but before you can pull back completely, Azriel’s hands grip your hips and pull them closer to his. He groans softly into your mouth, letting one hand move from your hip to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer.

One second, you are on top of him kissing, and the next he is flipping you onto your back, holding himself up with one hand next to your head while the other caresses your waist. His mouth begins to trail down your neck and onto the column of your throat, giving you rough kisses along the way. A small whimper leaves you, which only seems to encourage him more.

From across the training ring, you hear voices approaching. Shit, you both completely forgot where you are and how public this is. Azriel pulls away and quickly stands, reaching out a hand towards you to help you up. You wonder if the interruption will be the end of this heated moment between the two of you, but Azriel pulls you by the waist close to him.

“Your room or mine?” He asks with a strained voice. The voices get closer, and before you can answer, Azriel lifts you up with your legs around his waist and winnows you to his room.

———

Once you arrive inside Azriel’s room, he gently sets you on his bed and takes a step back, staring at you. You can’t tell what his expression says, but you suddenly feel very shy under his intense stare.

“Uh, you okay?” You ask hesitantly. He gives you a grin and nods.

“I’m great. More than great. I’m just taking a second to admire this moment because I’ve spent the pst week feeling like Prythian’s biggest idiot for confessing my feelings to you when you didn’t feel the same way.” He stalks closer to you, his grin transforming into a lustful smirk. “But now that I know you feel the same way…” he towers over you, gently pushing you back onto the bed as he moves above you. “I am going to savor this. Every. Single. Second.” He kisses up your neck between his last few words.

“Oh… uh, okay.” You blush hard as the words come out in a whisper and every thought leaves your brain. Well, every thought except for Azriel. His hands tangle into your hair as he kisses you, but unlike before, this kiss isn’t overly eager and desperate. It’s purposeful and passionate, but the hunger from before still lingers between the two of you. Azriel’s hands slowly slide up your waist, under your shirt. His fingers play with the hem for a moment.

“Is this okay?” He whispers in your ear and softly bites your earlobe. You nod in response, but he pulls back and puts a hand on your cheek. “I need to hear you say it. You need to tell me exactly how far you want to go. I don’t want to do something you aren’t comfortable with.”

“Az. Please, I need you. All of you.” You plead.

“Thank the gods.” He wastes no time slipping his hands under your shirt and bra. His fingers graze over your nipples softly, causing you to whimper quietly. Azriel pulls your shirt off and quickly unclasps your bra, throwing it across his room. His eyes darken as he stares at you. You instinctively try to cover yourself, but he immediately pins both of your wrists above your head with one of his hands. “Don’t you dare hide from me, sweetheart. You are fucking gorgeous.” His words come out low and gravelly, causing you to blush a deep shade of pink.

Azriel lowers his mouth to one nipple and sucks, biting gently, while he rolls the other one between his fingers. The sensation makes you let out a low moan. He switches, making sure to give both equal attention before moving lower.

“Can I trust you to keep your hands up there?” He asks gruffly.

“And if I don’t?” You challenge with a smirk. Azriel gives a low chuckle. You feel the familiar chill of his shadows moving up your arms and around your wrists, restraining you. Two more shadows start playing with your nipples and the cold feeling makes you arch your back.

“I always wondered how you would be in bed.” He lowers himself toward your stomach. “But it seems like you like to be a brat.” His eyes gleam with excitement. “And if this wasn’t the first time that I get to worship your body, believe me, I would fuck the brattiness right out of you.” His fingers play with the hem of your pants as he kisses down your navel. “But I’m gonna let that attitude slide just this once.” His filthy words send a rush of heat to your core.

His hot breath dances over your skin and he slowly drags down your pants and panties all at once. Azriel stares at your pussy with complete adoration in his eyes.

“You are so fucking stunning, sweetheart.” He groans and teases a finger around your entrance. “And so fucking wet. Gods y/n, you might have the prettiest pussy I have ever seen.” His fingers trail up to your clit and he circles it softly. Moans spill from your lips freely now as you buck your hips towards him. “Patience. I’m just getting started.” He smirks and spreads your legs wide, before lowering his mouth to your core.

Azriel switches between kitten licks to your clit and teasing your hole with his tongue. Your moans get louder as you become more desperate.

“More. Fuck, Az, more please.” You beg. He pushes one of his long fingers into your pussy and curls it, making you cry out.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He asks with a smug smirk, as if he doesn’t know the damn answer. His shadows continue to tease your nipples, while one trails down to circle your clit while Azriel fucks you with his fingers. You had never felt pleasure this good, this intense. Azriel returns to sucking your clit, occasionally grazing his teeth across it, causing you to throw your head back and moan loudly. The familiar feeling of pleasure builds in your core. As if he can tell you are close, he speeds up his fingers. “That’s it, y/n. Come for me.”

“Fuck Azriel!” You yell and clench around his fingers while grinding on his face. Your orgasm rips through you like an explosion. Azriel draws the feeling out longer with his fingers continuously moving inside you—slower now. “Az, please. I want you inside me. Now.” You whine. He looks up at you with a shit-eating grin, his chin wet with your arousal.

“I have waited a long fucking time to finally taste you, so I will stop once I get my fill.” He puts his tongues back on your clit and gives it a soft lick, causing your hips to buck at the intensified feeling. “Give me one more like this, sweetheart. I need you to cum on my face one more time before I’ll be satisfied.” He buries his face between your legs, eating you out like a male starved. This might be the hottest thing you have ever experienced. No male has ever been so eager to eat you out, especially not this well, and definitely never twice in a row.

It doesn’t take long for Azriel to bring you to the edge again. His fingers thrust inside your soaked cunt as he sucks your clit.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Right as your release bursts inside you, Azriel moves his face back up to your mouth, keeping his fingers in your pussy and on your clit to coax you through the orgasm. His shadows release your hands, and you grab onto his shoulders as he swallows your moans with his kiss. You eventually come down from your high and take a steadying breath.

Azriel grins down at you like a kid on Winter Solstice who got every present he wanted. “You are breathtaking, y/n.” He kisses you again and moves his hips above yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” His gentle tone fills you with warmth.

“Please, Azriel. Please fuck me.” He groans at your words and lines his tip up with your entrance.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?” You nod. He slowly pushes himself into you, one inch at a time. Fuck, you knew he was big, but this is something else. “Are you okay?” He asks. You nod and lift your hips to meet his, encouraging him to keep going. Azriel pushes himself entirely into you and gives a low moan.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” He starts to slowly move in and out, gradually picking up his pace until he is pounding into you, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “This pussy was fucking made for me.” He moans and drops his forehead onto yours. You feel your pleasure building again as his hand reaches down to rub your clit.

“I’m close, Az.” You moan into his shoulder. This causes him to slow down slightly, opting for agonizingly slow and deep thrusts.

“Not yet, y/n. I need to feel you more.”

Thrust

“I have wanted this for so long.”

Thrust

“So fucking long.”

Thrust

“And now you’re mine.”

Thrust

His eyes pour into yours intensely.

“I have loved you since I first met you, y/n.” He says in an intimately hushed tone.

“I love you too, Az. I have for so long.” Your words pull a moan from him, and he picks his pace back up, pounding his cock into you. His fingers return to your clit and he rubs circles, drawing out high-pitched moans from you.

“Cum for me, y/n. Fuck, please. Come on my cock, sweetheart.” It comes out more like a beg than a command. Your third orgasm causes you to clench around him and drag your nails down his back, probably leaving marks. A few more thrusts, and Azriel is spilling inside you, your name falling from his lips over and over.

You both lay there for a while, savoring the moment. After a minute, Azriel slowly pulls out of you, making you hiss from how sensitive your walls are. He heads to the bathroom and returns quickly with a wet cloth to clean you up. Once clean, he gets back into the bed and pulls you close to him. The two of you cuddle in silence for a while before he speaks up.

“I’m still convinced this is a dream.” He whispers in amazement while running his fingers through your hair.

“I’ll admit I’ve had similar dreams before.” You giggle. He turns you around to face him and raises an eyebrow.

“You’ve had wet dreams about me?” You blush hard and nod. “Fuck, that’s hot.” You giggle and bury your face in his chest as he pulls you closer.

“This isn’t a dream, Az. It’s real, and I really do love you.” You reassure him. You will tell him that a million times if that’s what it takes.

“I love you, y/n. So fucking much.” He hugs you tighter. The two of you doze off into a blissfully content sleep.

omg okay i hope yall liked this!! also btw i have never published smut ever before so i apologize if it sucked lol.

i’m having a lot of fun getting back into writing fics so please send me requests if you have any bc i suck at coming up with ideas.

[lsd-astronaut]

Hello!! I hope you don’t mind me asking but could you do a fluffy Crowley x Demon!reader x Aziraphale fic (or headcanons)??

Maybe something like what it’s like all being in a relationship together?

(Also if it’s not too much to ask can the reader use a cane to walk around? Maybe because of something relating to when they fell and became a demon? If not that’s okay!!!)

First of all, I love you and I could kiss you in the mouth right now. I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR AGES THAT CROWLEY WOULD HAVE CHRONIC PAIN BC OF THE FUCKING FALL. I refuse to believe for one moment that you can fall all the way from Heaven, land on the ground and be all “hey guys i’m fine!”

Aziraphale x Demon!Reader x Crowley

Please like and reblog<3

Warnings: chronic pain, but nothing else, this is just good old fluff

• You were an archangel along with Crowley, with the same obligations in making the cosmos✨ so you both met Aziraphale at the same time

• When Azi told you both that the project was destined to close in a few thousand years, you were the one that proposed to fill a complain to God (and crowley seconded you)

• Cue a war and a Fall later, Crowley and you are in Hell, but in different departments so you don’t see each other much

• In fact, you didn’t see Azi and Crowley for the first time since the Fall until the crucifixion of Jesus

• You stood beside them in silent reverence to this poor soul lost for all of humanity

• “What sort of mother would wish this fate upon her own kin?” Crowley and Azi turned to you with confused expressions (although Crowley gained a lot of respect for that comment hehe)

• After some idle conversation, and Crowley convincing Aziraphale not to just smite you right there and then, you three decide to traverse the world

• Centuries pass, and Crowley and you stay around humans (you love their way of living, and he likes children so everyone wins)

• You like to read everything you can get your hands on, to Crowley’s chagrin

• “Now I have two bookworms. What have I done to deserve this?”

• It’s circa the year 1000, in the new continent that these curious people called Vikings have discovered, when Crowley and you decide to experiment a human thing that you had wanted to try for a long time

• Your first kiss is messy, and there are more teeth than anything else; besides Crowley insists it feels slimey

• However, she can’t help but to accept he got a bit aroused by it

• Practice makes better, as they say, and so you do

• Although you spend the most time with Crowley, your relationship with Aziraphale also evolves throughout the years

• The “we have a mutual but I still don’t like you” to “maybe I do care about you” pipeline, if you want

• You take him to all kind of food places and bookstores, and he warms up to you a lot

• Introducing him to classical music was your proudest moment, and also the pettiest as Crowley had crossed you a bit beforehand

• The first time you kiss Aziraphale (or rather, he does), is one time you both were a bit tipsy during a masquerade ball in Paris in the 18th century

• He is a bit unexperienced but he gets the hang out of it really quick

• The three of you “confess” to each other in 1941, after the magic show fiasco

• Crowley looks nonchalant but you can see behind his eyes, he was worried sick he would be separated from both of you

• You make sure to give him extra cuddles that night

• Fast forward to 2008 and you work in Warlock’s house along with Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis, you being Warlock’s governess (like this is the fucking 1800s or smth lmao)

• It is at this time that the two of them notice you limping a bit every day after all chores have been done

• You insist that it is nothing and that you are perfectly capable of walking

• However, Ashtoreth happens to see you during one of your bad flares

• She immediately helps you to sit down on the bed, and looks at you expecting an explanation

• Her no-nonsense glare deters you from making up an excuse so you tell her the whole truth

• When you had fallen, you hadn’t landed correctly and had broken your legs on impact

• Miracles hadn’t done the full job and so you had been forced to endure the pain of the bones repairing themselves not quite right

• You had learned to mask the pain after centuries of practice but some days were just worse than others

• The next day, Ashtoreth gifts you a cane adorned with a snake head with little wings

• You proudly use it every day forward

• After the Second Coming, the three of you go to live in South Downs, finally able to be yourselves together

• There is still so much stuff to learn about everything, but you’re immortal and you are not alone, so why the hurry?

• As the sun sets on the horizon, you lean your head on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he reads one of Jane Austen’s books, and Crowley’s head is on your lap, already snoring softly

• You will be okay

I just wanted to say, I’m sorry if this is not what you asked for exactly as it is my first time writing for these two and I haven’t written either in two years so I feel I’m very rusty. I forgot ab the chronic pain until almost at the end, and I talk more about the history of you relationship than the actual relationship in itself lmao

Still, I hope you like it!

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 13 - I can't tell one from another

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Just a lil aggro and intimidation

Bonjour lovelies! Here we go...heating up now. Reader is living her best life (or trying to). As always, your reblogs and comments mean the world! Thank you!

Bucky was working on an old Camaro down at the auto shop when Steve called.

He hit the accept call button and put it on speaker as he set the phone down and began to wipe the grease off hands with a rag. Before he could even get a greeting out, Steve was talking.

“Don’t get mad,” Steve warned sternly.

Bucky frowned, “Hello to you too…”

“Don’t get mad,” he repeated.

Bucky’s frown deepened, “Don’t open a call like that, you know that’s only going to rile me up. What’s going on? Did Parker fuck up the delivery?”

“No”, replied Steve. “Work is fine. I’m in town picking up those parts from Pym…”

“And? Spit it out, Steve,” Bucky huffed.

Steve let out a deep sigh, “I just saw…you know who. She’s here. She’s out on a date, with that guy from the plant who asked her out at the bar”.

Bucky froze and Steve momentarily thought the line had dropped. “Buck? Look I’m not telling you this to be a dick. I just thought you should know. In case you see them around town”.

“Alright…thanks for telling me”, Bucky uttered quietly. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Did she look…happy?”

The long pause from Steve already told Bucky everything he needed to know.

“Uh…yeah, Buck. Yeah she did”.

Bucky hung up, taking a moment as he stood perfectly still in the middle of the garage.

He picked up a wrench and flung it full force into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. Gritting his teeth, he then smashed a toolbox with his metal arm - sending it flying off the workbench and crashing into to the floor as its contents scattered across the room.

Bucky took a deep breath.

*

It was a few weeks later when Peter checked his phone as he walked out of the plant. Another tiring shift, but a message from you made him smirk and his fingers got to work responding as he headed to his car.

He hummed along to his earphones and waved to a few of his colleagues as he walked across the parking lot.

Looking down at his phone screen, he didn’t initially notice the broad figure leaning against his car.

He flinched as he peered up, car keys in hand. The man who had taken up residence across his driver’s door was burly and tall, sleek brown hair to his ears and a toothpick between his teeth, framed by a sneer. Peter didn’t miss the leather kutte, and the very recognisable patch attached to it. Parked up just a few feet away was a very large motorcycle.

Peter swallowed as two very intense blue eyes studied him. He knew who this was. Everybody did.

“Can I help you…bro?” He asked tentatively, keeping his tone light.

“I’m sure you can bro”, the man jeered.

Peter waited for him to elaborate, but the man continued to stare him down for a little longer.

“I’m just here to tell you that I’ve got my eye on you”, the man warned sinisterly.

Peter squared his shoulders, refusing to look intimidated, “Okay…and why would that be?” he asked.

But he already knew. He remembered the bar. He remembered that same look then, too.

“Just be good to her”, the man hissed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Be good to her. Treat her right. I’ll find out if you don’t,” the man threatened.

Peter tilted his head, unable to stay quiet, “what? Treat her right? Like you did?” he spat.

Bucky surged forward, squaring up to Peter. They were practically nose-to-nose as they stared at each other. Bucky’s breathing was heavy and restrained.

He pressed his finger hard into Peter’s shoulder, pushing him back a couple of steps as Peter scrambled to keep his footing. Bucky reached over and yanked on the earphone wire, pulling them out of Peter’s ears and sending them to the ground. He threateningly raised a gloved finger in front of Peter’s eyes.

“Just remember what I told you”, His voice was quiet, but menacing.

Bucky moved to his bike, shooting Peter one final glare as he mounted the seat and began to rev the engine. Seconds later he shot out of the parking lot, as Peter bent over to pick up the dropped earphones.

He exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time.

What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

*

“So, I know this a nice place but you didn’t have to embarrass me by looking that good, yknow”, Peter hummed as he peered over the menu at you and took a sip of his wine.

You giggled, feeling the heat at your cheeks as you shook your head, “Oh, shut up”, you said shyly as you looked at your own menu.

This was the nicest restaurant in town, so you’d made an effort. You’d worn your favourite dress and a pair of heels, taken time with your hair and make-up. You felt good. Pretty. And Peter’s compliments made you feel like a teenager again.

You’d actually been out a few times since that coffee date. A few dinners, a trip to the movies, drinks (at a bar outside of town, you weren’t stupid). It was nice being with him. It was easy…uncomplicated. You’d settled into a routine together, texting and hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. You didn’t really think about what happened when you left town. You were just taking it day by day. You knew Peter probably wasn’t the love of your life, but he didn’t need to be.

Still radio silence from Bucky, although you’d seen him once.

You and Peter were buying groceries for a movie night, he’d gone to fetch the popcorn and you were getting a bottle of wine from the liquor section. Bucky had turned into the aisle just as you were leaving it, and the two of you both froze and stared at one another for a few seconds. It had been weeks, almost months. It felt weird to see him there of all places, after all the drama and the heightened emotions of how things were left between you both, seeing him in for the first time somewhere so mundane and normal was…strangely anticlimactic. Although your heart beating at the speed it was suggested otherwise.

He grabbed a six pack of beer from the shelf and gave you a nod, and you nodded back. Your feet were suddenly glued to the ground. He ran his hand through his hair and you had a brief flashback to yourself tugging on those strands as he pushed you deep into the mattress…

The tension lay thick, stifling. It was strange to feel a pang of longing for him, yet still angry at the same time. The hurt he’d caused you was still there, simmering under the surface.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m okay. How are you?” You replied awkwardly, your voice quiet.

“Okay. Yeah”, he nodded.

“And uh…How’s the bar? And the MC?”

“Alright. We had to get a new pool table after Thor got drunk and fell through the last one…”

You smirked at that, instantly chastising yourself for allowing him to make you smile. You could just picture it so clearly…

His eyes seemed to sparkle as you smiled, and you ignored whatever seemed to be stirring in the depths of your heart.

“How’s the house? Nearly ready?” He asked.

“Nearly,” you nodded.

“Did you do the fence yet?”

You scowled, “No…I will I just…I’ll probably pay somebody or something”, you muttered, annoyed at being called out, “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just functional”, you shrugged unconvincingly.

He smiled as if seeing through your nonchalance, “Well…don’t just pay some shitty handyman to butcher it or whatever”, he said plainly, “That place means a lot to you, I know. Anyone could see that home was built on love. Give it the care it deserves”.

“Right”, you nodded dumbly, a little taken aback by his almost poetic insight as you just stared back at him.

“Well…I’d better…”, he flicked his head to show he had to get going.

“Right, yeah. See you”, you replied hastily, your trance broken.

He smiled at you and then disappeared down one of the other aisles as you stood in his wake. It was odd…that awkwardness between you. You’d never really had that with him. He felt like a stranger now. Someone from another life. Although that was probably for the best. It was what you had wanted.

Right?

Peter had appeared a few moments later, brandishing ice cream and popcorn and slipping them into your shopping basket as he chatted away about some jerky he’d seen. You’d nodded in the right places and followed him as you lugged the basket alongside him, trying to silently exorcise the ghosts that haunted you.

*

And now you were having dinner. Nice restaurant, a few glasses of wine, dating for some weeks now…You were acutely aware of what Peter might be expecting tonight…

You’d had a few heavy make-out sessions, but you hadn’t…gone all the way yet.

You weren’t sure why. You weren’t particularly prudish or shy about sex. You knew it was normal and healthy. Your general view was that if it was between consensual adults, people could do whatever they wanted in the bedroom - and that included you. You had no time for people who branded women sluts for enjoying sex or had strange rules about how long you should wait with someone.

You were fully aware Peter was keen from the way he touched you and how his breathing deepened when you kissed him, although he’d never pushed or pressurised you into anything further. You just seemed to have this strange mental barrier you couldn’t get beyond, every time things got heated with him, you’d find yourself anxious and suddenly unable to continue - a mental block you couldn’t explain or shift. You found him attractive, you liked being with him – so, what gives? Was it a hangover from Bucky hurting you? Stress from sorting out the house? You couldn’t find the answer, you just knew that moving forward with Peter hadn’t felt ‘right’, yet.

Usually if things looked like they might be heading that way, you’d find yourself panicking. You’d apologise and say you had to get home. You’d insist on driving yourself to your dates so you could leave if you had one of these mini freak-outs. At no point did Peter make any comments or seem disparaging, he seemed happy enough to go at your pace.

But maybe enough was enough. Maybe it was time.

As you toyed with the idea of finally going further with him, Peter finished his glass of wine and poured himself another, topping up yours as well.

“So what’s the latest with the house?”, he asked, “You gotta be nearly there right?”

You nodded as you took a sip. “Almost. I’ve got the realtors coming next week to take pictures for the listing, and we’re going to start putting together a schedule for viewings. I just need to fix the fence first”.

Peter rolled his eyes, “You’re always going on about that fence. Just get it done already”, he said dismissively.

You scowled, slightly taken aback by his brusqueness.

He must’ve seen the change on your face as he held up a wary hand, “Sorry, I just meant...isn’t it better just to get it done?”, he asked softly as he took your hand from across the table, “Then you can finally get that weight off your shoulders and move on”.

“It’s not a weight…”

“I know, sorry, bad choice of words - I just mean so you don’t have to worry about it anymore. Look…I have a buddy at the plant who can fix it for you. He’s not a professional or anything but he’s cheap and he’s fast, he’ll probably do it in an hour or two for a six pack of beer and a bag of Doritos. It won’t be perfect or anything but it’ll look okay in the photographs. Then you can sell up fast and do your thing,” he explained matter-of-factly as he drank his wine. “Then your buyers can figure it out…”

You nodded. Getting it done quickly was appealing. But you couldn’t help but remember Bucky’s words, give it the care it deserves. It was weird thinking about strangers traipsing around Granny’s house, changing things, knocking down walls and making it theirs…

You shook off the thought and turned your attention back to Peter. You smiled, doing your best to lighten the mood, “Sell up fast, huh? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He laughed, and you forced a smile behind your wine glass.

[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from anon and @slaveforloki​. You might wanna take a shower after this one. If you noticed the font in the image being different… I forgot I don’t have Photoshop on my computer in Austria anymore I didn’t take my laptop with me so I had to do it with an online editor, ugh! Try to ignore it! :D RC is not a virgin in this Imagine as originally requested, at least it’s not mentioned but I have another Christmassy one planned with that, so I hope this one will be fun regardless, I didn’t wanna post two so similar ones back to back! Could I resist adding this new gif? No, absolutely not. I’m so hyped for Season 2.

Words: 2826 Warnings: forced marriage, smut

Additonal NSFW warnings: CMNF, orgasm denial, orgasm control, arguably a little bit of dub-con, definitely angry sex

-

You’d do it, officially. You would hate Christmas for the rest of your life. Loki had made sure of that. With a deep sigh, you straightened your green dress—one of the maids had chosen it for you because it was Loki’s colour—and lifted your chin. You refused to let him see how much he had hurt you. How he had ruined your life, shattered it to pieces by claiming you as a bride, forcing you to become his wife all because he was now king of Asgard.

You weren’t even royalty—not wholly, anyways. Your father was the second-born prince of the king of Alfheim but your mother had been a commoner. Human. You had no royal duties, no obligation to rule a kingdom one day. You had lived a life in freedom—up until Loki had claimed you like a prized possession.

You remembered the dark prince of Asgard. The second-born mischievous God of Chaos had been mysterious and charming the first time you had met him at a ball a few years back. But that was before the rumours about him attempting to subjugate Midgard had the branches of Yggdrasil sway with the quick footsteps of Ratatöskr.

The wedding had been yesterday—on Christmas Eve. Now officially, Alfheim did not celebrate the Christian holiday, regardless of its stolen aspects from ancient paganism. But you had visited Midgard often enough yourself to grow to love the holiday, not to mention how much your mother had adored it before she passed. You’d been looking forward to decorating and buying Christmas gifts for your loved ones and now here you were: stuck in King Loki’s chambers after a forced but oddly passionate kiss after the ceremony. A few weeks had passed since then and needless to say you had not consummated the marriage just yet.

You had been fuming already, you would have torn him to pieces if he had dared put a hand on you… and… you were pretty sure he was very well aware of that. And while he was the most dominant man that had ever stepped into your life, he respected that. For now. You hated the part of yourself that longed for him to rip your clothes off your body, throw you on the bed and fuck you until you forgot everything but his name.

If Loki was one thing beside an arrogant and power-hungry king, he was handsome. You had noticed it at the ball already. Back then, you would have wished for him to sweep you off your feet. Now, however, your anger suffocated every other feeling you could have possibly harboured for him. Desiring him physically made that wrath even stronger. You would never admit that to him though.

As if your thinking about him had summoned him, Loki barged into his chambers only mere moments later. His quick and confident steps had you tense up, even more so when his stunning blue gaze met yours.

“So you haven’t forgotten about your waiting wife then.” Loki rolled his eyes at you.

“You are not a prisoner in my chambers. You are free to roam the palace and the realm—as long as a guard accompanies you.”

“I had no need for a guard before I was married to you.”

“Consider it an additional perk.”

“Right,” you spat. “And what exactly are the other perks of you asking me for my hand in marriage and not accepting a no?”

For just the fraction of a second, Loki was surrounded by a green shimmering light. The next time you blinked, he had swapped his regal attire for some more comfortable clothes.

“It will reinforce the alliance between Alfheim and Asgard. The kingdom of Alfheim is already very suspicious of me,” he explained as if it was the most logical thing in the nine realms.

“For good reason, Loki.”

“Don’t you dare lecture me. You don’t know anything about what happened. So watch your tongue.”

Fuming, you clenched your fists. “Why me then? Why not any of my half-sisters?”

“Most of them have been promised to others already. One of them to a king in Niflheim, the other to the current princess of Svartalfheim, now that Malekith is dead. Besides, you are part-human. That makes you a valuable pawn to assure my peaceful intentions.”

“Peaceful? Your intentions are anything but peaceful.”

“Are they not?” He tilted his head, making your lower regions clench. Then, he gave you a just the tiniest hint of a smirk. “I do not recall you being present at your council meeting earlier, dear. I very much doubt you get to have a say about any of my intentions.”

“You forced me to marry you!”

“Your father was thrilled and all too eager to send you to Asgard, to me.” Loki looked you dead in the eye, a mocking tone playing in his smooth voice. “Do you truly believe I wish to be married to a bastard daughter of a king? A woman who is half human? You should consider yourself lucky to be by my side rather than resent me for it.”

“Lucky? Lucky?” you screeched. “You ruined my life! You came to Alfheim and drowned everything in chaos! I was free before you claimed me like an object!”

“Please… freedom is life’s great lie,” Loki responded sharply.

“And on Christmas of all days! You decided to wed on Christmas! You have no idea how much this holiday meant to my mother and now you’ve spoiled it, you selfish and arrogant prick!”

“Watch your tone with me!”

“I will not! You made me marry you, now you’re going to deal with what you claimed!”

Loki’s blue eyes widened. It was barely noticeable but it didn’t escape you regardless.

“Where does that new-found passion for hostility come from? You have been awfully quiet over the last few weeks, pet.”

Pet. “I’m not your fucking pet. Heavens, you are so irritating!”

“Well, so are you! A spoiled child who knows nothing of love and life!”

“Me? I’m the spoiled child? My mother was human and I lived a very humble life before you tossed me into his palace. You were the one born with a silver spoon in your mouth!”

“Do not speak of things you do not understand.”

“Stop patronising me!” You were both screaming at this point. You couldn’t really care less about what the servants outside of Loki’s chambers must have been thinking. They could know you were not here voluntarily.

Loki strutted towards you, a menacing and threatening expression on his handsome face. You pressed your thighs together, standing your ground on your “shared” bed. You did not move away an inch. Not until he came to a halt right before you, so much so you had to look up to meet his stare.

“You need to stop talking,” he breathed quietly. Too quiet. “Ungrateful brat…” He muttered under his breath. But he was just loud enough for you to hear him. It almost seemed like he was trying to hold back. From what, you were unsure. Lashing out? Throwing you out? Getting physical? You swallowed thickly, your mind jumping to an image where Loki threw you over his knees, grabbed a fistful of your dress to reveal your bare bottom and spanked you for your mouth. It infuriated you even more.

“I fucking hate you!” you screamed at him, sitting up so you came to kneel on the bed. One second passed in which Loki narrowed his eyes at you… in the next… his lips were on yours.

Fire rippled through you, hot flushes blackening your vision. Your eyes fell shut, the sensation of his mouth moving against yours stealing away your ability to think straight. As if your body turned against you, your arms came up to wrap around his neck, allowing him to take a hold of your hips. Possessively, he pulled you flush against his body, his muscles rubbing against your chest hardening your nipples.

“I wish I could hate you, Earth girl” he muttered when he pulled away, stroking your hot cheek with his thumb. Your lips parted. And then you finally realised. He desired you. He’d always desired you and the fact that he did… it made him furious. You drove each other mad—and yet together you could be unstoppable.

Breathing heavily, you refused to respond to his confession and instead buried your fingers in his hair to kiss him again. Fuck it all for now. Fuck him. Right now, preferably. Even angrier at him now for making you so flustered for him, you growled, feral like a kitten when he pushed you away with a start. You landed on the mattress, bouncing up and down once before he was on top of you, his blue eyes filled with hunger.

Loki grabbed two fistfuls of your dress. You shrieked when he tore it straight off, exposing your naked body to his greedy gaze. Asgardians didn’t bother with underwear much and the maid had refused to let your wear your bra because it “didn’t go well with the dress”. Now, all you could think about was easy access.

A moan escaped your lips when he cupped your breasts in his hands, kneading them firmly and playing with your nipples until you arched your back for him. You threw your head back then, and he attacked your neck, suckling, biting, licking… Unable to form any functioning sentences, you breathed his name.

“Fucking arsehole…” His chuckle went right through you, tightening that delicious knot forming in your lower stomach and… you could practically feel yourself getting wet for him.

“I will make you beg for my cock, pet. You can try and hate me all you want but that delicious body of yours doesn’t lie. I can see it in your eyes. And I shall make it worth your while.”

Before you could muster both the courage and the smugness to counter his irritating arrogance, he kissed you again, soft hands travelling down to your hips to hook his fingers into the seam of your knickers. He ripped them clean off, making you curse.

“That was the last fucking pair I heard from Midgard!”

“You are my wife. This sad excuse of underwear is nothing compared to the lingerie I will have you wear from now on. Be glad it’s gone.”

“You don’t get to decide what I w—“ Another kiss, even more passionate than the last. His tongue slipped into your mouth, battling yours for dominance.

“Oh yes, I do. You are mine now. And you will feel like a goddess with what I will pick for you.” Attempting to shake your head failed miserably when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed lightly. Your pussy clenched around nothing. Great. He’d discovered a new kink too, now. Arsehole.

The grunt that left your lips made him chuckle once more. Oh, he knew fully well what he was doing to you and how it made you fight your own body. But it was no use. Loki used his free hand to roll his trousers down his thighs, just enough to free his erect member. It sprung free with its tip leaking precum. Loki pushed his hips against you, cock sliding between your nether lips and brushing against your clit.

“Oh, fuck…” you whined, digging your fingernails into his clothed back until he snatched your wrists and pinned them down next to your head. He thrust forward again, teasing your clit and making you buck your hips.

“Oh, just fuck me already!”

Loki tilted his head, smirking down at you. “Now that is hardly how you speak to your husband who happens to rule the realm you reside in, now is it?”

“You’re an arsehole, Loki! I’m not begging!”

“You are not going to beg your husband?”

“No! Fuck off!”

“Fine. Then you are not coming.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You are not coming until I give you permission.”

“As if you could stop me.”

Loki raised an eyebrow and you swallowed. Challenge accepted, his expression appeared to say. And then, without any further forewarning, he plunged himself inside of you, making you moan loudly enough for his servants outside to hear. You could only imagine them blushing, except if he had charmed the room to contain any indecent noises.

He gave you no time to adjust to his length but instead began railing you as if he was going to starve to death if he didn’t. His grip around your wrists tightened, even more so when you wriggled beneath him, unable to decide between meeting his thrusts by bucking your hips and moving away because the stimulation was almost too much to bear.

It was then you felt it. The invisible force on your clit, teasing, kneading, massaging, playing you like an instrument. Loki was using his seidr to work you up, fast. And while you desperately wanted to stop your arousal from growing to not give him the satisfaction of being able to drive you straight to orgasm, to not have him control your pleasure, your body longed for more, longed for him.

It took him another minute, his rhythmic thrusts deliciously controlled, almost hitting your cervix, and you were on the verge of falling off that relaxing cliff your cunt was craving so bad.

And just like that… the stimulation stopped and Loki angled himself in a way that would keep you on the edge but not quite get you there.

“Are you fucking serious, you arrogant… ahh…” His own grunts only fuelled your arousal, his heavy breathing sounding like music in your ears.

“Beg me,” he demanded hoarsely.

“Fuck… you!”

Loki chuckled. He let go of your wrists for a moment only to grab your thighs and haul your legs over his shoulders so your bottom was slightly elevated. His next thrust was so deep you screamed with pleasure.

And then that delicious treatment on your clit continued, working you up once more. Higher and higher, closer and closer… and then it disappeared again, just before you could jump. Loki continued this sweet torture all the while he kept fucking you senseless.

“You have no idea how long I have been craving to claim that sweet quim of yours, to have you beneath me, screaming my name.”

“I hate you!” The exclamation was half-hearted. Both he and you heard it. Because you didn’t. You were crazy for this man ever since you had met him at that damned ball all those years back.

Loki chuckled in response. “Oh no, you don’t…”

You were unsure for long he kept playing with your body as if it were an instrument. Was it minutes? Hours? All you knew was that Loki kept his promise. He didn’t let you cum all the while he kept filling you up until his seed was leaking out of you, staining both the bed and your inner thighs. His stamina was incredible, your whole body had turned into jelly at this point. Weak and almost in trance, you fought for your release until you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“P-please… Loki… p-please let me cum. I… I can’t… it’s getting too much… please…” Swallowing your pride, you looked him deep in the eye, your anger almost doubling the more his mischievous grin grew.

Loki had lost his clothes by now. His naked chest was glistening with sweat, his raven hair sticking to his skin. He tilted his head, stilling inside of you for just a heartbeat.

“That is all I wished to hear, pet.”

You growled in response, moments before his seidr went back to work and he sped up his rhythm. Only this time… this time Loki didn’t stop until finally, you fell. Never before had you experienced such a strong climax. The build-up, the edging and the constant denial had turned you into a feisty animal. Screaming your heart out, you let the pleasure consume you, your orgasm electrifying you from the inside out. Again and again, you pulsed around him, demanding yet another release from Loki.

He came inside of you one last time, face buried in your neck and feasting on your sensitive skin. You whimpered when he bit your neck as if he wished to mark you and then, once your high had finally subsided, he collapsed on top of you and let go of your wrists. You kept them on the mattress none the less, too weakened to bring yourself to slap him for teasing you like that. If you did… he’d probably spank you there and then. Your poor pussy clenched yet again. Oh, fuck…

“So tell me… do you truly hate me?” he murmured smugly, his hot breath brushing against your ear.

“I’m still contemplating,” you shot back, closing your eyes. You guessed you could learn to tolerate him and give in to your feelings. But only if he fucked you like that again.

-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story! If you did, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me and my writing on Kofi!

I finally, OMG, released my first novel! You can find all info about it in the Linktree in my bio! <3

Now, time for some mulled wine!

[daydreamingnightshade]

Trainwreck of a Night

"What the fuck happened here?"

The Six Eared Macaque could only blurt out as he steps out of the shadows, eyes wide and immediately transfixed on the scene happening right before him as he stands beside The Monkey King, otherwise known as Sun Wukong, who had his arms crossed and his face set in the most deadpan expression he's seen from him in years.

Wukong replies, "What do you think?" His voice and tone laced in exasperation.

Macaque could not get himself to speak as he watched MK and Mei engage in the middle of a destructive screaming battle, utilizing anything and everything they find that could be considered as a weapon, and just throwing it right at the other as they shout profanities and insults without a care in the world.

Which, normally, would not cause so much concern considering all the stuff they've pulled before, were they not standing inside of Pigsy's kitchen, and that most of the so-called 'weapons' they were throwing were just a bunch of kitchen utilities ranging from forks to plates to a goddamned blender.

Fucking hell, kid, Macaque thought to himself, cringing as another plate crashes to the floor, his ears twitching as the sound pangs in his head.

Now, normally, Macaque would just use his powers and shadow travel the hell out of this place, but he was invited by the brat to come and 'spend time with the others', now that he was fully 'redeemed'. (Their words, not his.) He couldn't just take a rain check considering that Wukong would also be there along with the others, and he just knows that the monkey would be able to find him no matter where he hides, and pester him into hanging out with them for his successor's sake, and he would eventually accept just to shut up the other's whining.

But arriving just to witness MK and Mei resort from yelling at each other to just outright fistfighting each other on the floor was either hilariously ridiculous or incredibly regretting to see.

"Explain. Now," Macaque demands to Wukong, who turns to him with one eyebrow raised, his face still stuck in that deadpan expression that Macaque, in the back of his mind, finds it strangely funny to see, with all that's happened to them.

"Look, I don't know either, okay?" Wukong sighs as he closes his eyes and brings a hand up to pinch the space between them. "The kids and I were just talking in the living room when MK suddenly said something I couldn't catch that made Mei screech," Wukong says with a wince, "loudly, and she then proceeded to tackle him to the floor. A few broken floorboards and a smashed table later, they somehow arrived at the kitchen where things just got even worse, somehow." He sighs again and moves both his hands to his hips, his expression replaced with a more contemplating one as he looks down at the floor. "I can't even make out what they're saying right now! It sounds like a whole lot of gibberish and all."

Macaque takes in all this new information, refusing to let himself laugh out loud at the absurdity of the two kids fighting like newborn cubs, and instead grabs a few snacks that were in his range, signaling to Wukong to follow him as he just plops down on the floor, opens a bag of chips, and eats some.

"Are you seriously snacking right now? In the middle of all... this?" Wukong asks in disbelief, his eyes widening, even when he sits right next to Macaque and takes some chips for himself to eat, his eyes focused on the other monkey as Macaque just continues watching the chaos, glee hidden by a bored expression.

"I don't see you stopping them," Macaque pointed out.

"... You've got a point there," Wukong grumbles a few moments later as he relaxes his body on the wall, making himself comfortable as they watch on this disastrous spectacle, tail flicking as he does. Macaque chuckles with a half-assed sneer pointed towards him, which Wukong only ignores.

Macaque says idly, "Besides, I don't think we can stop them ourselves, even if we tried. They look like they're really going at it."

Wukong looks over and subtly winces at a particularly brutal blow thrown from Mei. "Yeah," he says after a moment, "I can kinda see your point. They really are going at it, huh?"

Macaque snorts, amused. "They're like a pair of hyper-active cubs," he laughed quietly, as Wukong chuckled with him, grabbing more chips from the bag as the two quietly converse with each other.

Meanwhile, MK and Mei were currently engaging in a battle of a lifetime as they made barbs and insults at each other. MK currently had Mei pinned down, her face to the floor, but Mei was putting up a hell of a fight against him, and MK knew he wouldn't be able to keep her down for long.

"Let go of me, ya monkey!" Mei screamed loudly, her legs swinging wildly in the air, occasionally hitting MK, making him grit his teeth at the sheer might behind some of those hits before deciding that he must do something about it.

So, without thinking, he used his strength to flip both of them over and, using his momentum, threw Mei towards a wall with enough strength to create a huge crack on impact.

Macaque and Wukong stop in the middle of their own conversation and just. Stare as Mei collapses onto the floor with a groan, hands twitching, and her body shuddering before going limp, having signaled her white flag.

Macaque knew the kid was still alive due to his six ears being able to hear her heartbeat, but he didn't realize that Mk was slowly looking at Mei with horror, until—

"HOLY FUCK! DID I JUST KILL HER?!" Mk shouts out loud as he gets up from his position on the floor, which causes Macaque to silently grit his teeth due to the loud volume grating on his sensitive ears, only half tuning in to Wukong's "Language, young man!" MK's rambles of how he's sorry, or Mei's groans of pain.

However, his ears did pick up on the sounds of running footsteps that were coming closer and closer, so, without wasting another moment, he uses his shadows and hides in them, just in time for Pigsy and the rest of the crew to burst through the door, hearing all of the commotion happening on the inside.

"Are you SERIOUS! I JUST GOT THIS ENTIRE ROOM CLEANED!" Pigsy squeals loudly as MK, Mei, and Wukong get off the floor in a hurry, all three of them frazzled and tense at the thought of Pigsy coming and scold all of them, so they each took a separate way out— MK through the doorway, Mei through the window, and Wukong shapeshifting into a small beetle and flying straight past the door Pigsy had come out of, without anyone noticing.

Macaque stayed in his pool of shadows as he watched Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy file into the room, all of them radiating a combined aura of disappointment. He tries not to snicker as his reliable six ears pick up on the sounds of running footsteps, the cracking of electricity, and the buzz of a bug's wing, all getting farther and farther away as three out of the four people who were part of this mess all flee from Pigsy's wrath.

As he slips away into the night, finding this to be the perfect opportunity to bail, Macaque finds himself smiling wildly to himself at everything that has transpired so far.

Tonight had been such an absolute trainwreck to watch. It was a shame he had no popcorn to enjoy it while it had lasted.

Based on this prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting

[bookshelf-dust]

Hi ;) I'm sorry it's me again 😅😭I've been having an overabundance of fic ideas lately... So... What about reader doing something super nice and cute for Billy's birthday ? He isn't used to it, his family has never remembered his birth date, let alone celebrated his birthday, so when he sees that reader actually remembers his birthday and does something very meaningful to celebrate it, he just ends up crying because of how beautiful the present it : I don't know what the present could be though, like maybe she sings him a song that she wrote for him ? Which is surprising since she has social anxiety which shows how much effort she put into making this day memorable for him. Really choose whatever you think it's best. Thank you !!!

billy vs. the grinch

billy hargrove x fem!byers!reader

word count: 1,084

warnings: swearing, fluff

a/n: hi, my love! please don’t be sorry! i appreciate you trusting me with your ideas. this is really sweet. i hope that you enjoy what i came up with and that it’s what you wanted. <333

————

Billy’s fingers are gripping your belt loops so hard you’re afraid the denim might rip. You push open the front door, the wood cold on your fingertips.

Billy’s been on the verge of tears since seven forty-five this morning, when you hopped down your front step and launched yourself into his arms. “Happy birthday, gorgeous,” you’d said.

He’d only told you his birthday once, right after you met. That you remembered it was making his heart grow, what was it, three sizes? Isn’t that what the Grinch said?

Fuck, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that you were taking him home where he’d get to spend time with the only people he’d felt loved by.

Billy stays behind you after you’re inside like he’s never been here before.

“Is that my birthday boy?” Joyce’s voice carries to the both of you from the kitchen. You keep moving, pulling him along since he refuses to let you go.

Your mother has flour in her hair, and she’s wearing an apron with ladybugs on it. You’re pretty sure Will picked it out for her at some point.

When she sees him, she claps her hands excitedly, smiling brilliantly. She looks so young.

“Hi, Billy! Happy birthday, sweetie.”

She pulls him in for a hug, which he accepts. Joyce Byers has this thing with her hugs. They make everything feel like it’s going to be okay.

“Thank you,” Billy mumbles. You run a hand up the curve of his spine as if to say, It’s okay. You’re not bothering anyone. This is happening because we love you.

When she lets Billy go, Joyce kisses the crown of your head. “Hey, baby. Jonathan picked up pizza. I figured that would be okay?”

You assure her that it is.

Will and Max enter the kitchen from where they’d been in Will’s room. They’d biked home today so that you could spend some time with Billy.

“Happy birthday,” Will says. “You know you can buy lottery tickets now?”

Max snorts. “He wouldn’t have the money for them. He spends it all on cigarettes.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me today or something?” He asks her.

“I was going to give you a hug,” she tells him. “Unless you’re immune to that sort of thing.”

You take Will’s hand, walking over to look at what your mother has been up to, just long enough to give them a minute. Their relationship has improved exponentially in recent months. It’s nice to see them finally have each other to rely on.

On the counter sits a cake in a glass pan. It’s strawberry flavored, which you can see from the pink tinge it has, and there’s chocolate frosting smeared over the top of it.

Happy Birthday, Billy is written in a sloppy scrawl across the top, two big number candles sitting above his name. 18.

Later, after the six of you have demolished it, Billy tells Joyce that it’s the best damn cake he’s ever had, and that she’s not allowed to fight him on it. She obliges.

Billy told Will and Max to pick out a movie because it would stress him out too much. They did, and you all sit around the living room, devouring that too.

Billy thinks about how he’s never felt safer. He enjoys just sitting in this room with these people who he knows care about him, even if it isn’t exactly the group anyone expected him to end up hanging around.

When the movie’s over, you lead Billy down the hall and into your bedroom. “Sit, pretty please. I have a present for you.”

“I told you not to get me anything,” he says.

You tap his knee. “Since when have I ever listened to what you tell me to do?”

Billy chuckles and it makes you smile. You place a manila envelope in his lap.

“Sorry. Didn’t really have anything to put it in.”

“I don’t give a shit about how you wrapped it, baby.” You feel yourself go warm. It doesn’t matter how many times he calls you that—it always has the same effect.

“Open it.”

You sit down on the floor in front of him, the carpet squishing under your legs. You prop your head up, settling your arms on his knees and under your chin.

You watch as he pulls a sheet of thick paper out of the envelope.

Billy’s eyes widen just slightly and his breath hitches.

“Baby.”

It’s a drawing of the Camaro.

You sit up a little more so you can point the specifics out to him.

“I borrowed Jonathan’s camera to take a picture of it one day a couple weeks ago. And I dug out my best paper too.”

You run a finger along the lingering pencil marks. “I tried my best with the blue. I don’t exactly have the most extensive colored pencil collection in the world, and I’d already gone through mine and Will’s, so it’s not perfect, but. It’s still pretty blue.”

First you sketched the drawing, as best as you could, and then you colored it just the same. You used a thin pen to outline it when you finished. It’s simple, but you’re happy with it.

Billy runs his thumb over where you left your signature by the back tire. When he looks up at you his eyes are glossy.

“You drew this whole thing just for me?”

“‘Course I did, Billy.” You wipe away the tear that’s just managed to slip out. “I love you and stuff.”

He tosses his head back, laughing. You kiss his cheek, over a patch of freckles, and he blushes.

“You like it?” You ask.

He sets it down beside him. “Are you kidding? I fuckin’ love it. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Billy is even more touched when he thinks about how it’s not often that you draw. You love to do it, but it’s not something you think you’re that great at. He disagrees by a long shot. So the fact that you took the time to do this means the world.

When he hugs you, he tries to put all of this feeling into it, and you make sure to rub up and down his back as a reminder that it’s okay for him to be emotional about this. You’re sure he wants to fight it.

“I love you too, by the way,” he says into your hair.

You pull back and kiss him. He tastes like chocolate.

“Happy birthday, pretty boy.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[cupids-scream-queen]

The Ball Gag

-> Billy Loomis x female reader <-

Warnings: handcuffs, blindfold, ball gagged, tortured, blood kink, knife kink, biting once, idk. Kinky sex. Y'all know what I write.

summary: You fuck Billy idk what else you want. It has no plot.

The screaming of victims was something that Billy relished to his very core. He could list a million reasons why the screams of terror made him happy--why they comforted him beyond anything else. And yet, there were one set of screams that Billy loved more than the others.

Her screams of pleasure.

Billy was on top of her, teasing her with the tip of his tongue against her neck. He cradled her, his arms wrapped around her body, pressing her closer to him. He needed her closer, he needed every bit of her.

She was aware of who he was—he was aware she knew, yet the both of them never talked about it. It was easier for them to pretend it didn't exist.

He held his face against her neck, breathing heavily as she whined for him to continue. She was needy for him, and Billy knew; it took everything in him not to ram his dick into her aching pussy right then and there.

And that was because he wanted to play with her.

The materials he wanted were gathered--a blindfold, handcuffs, ball gag, and a knife--his knife. The knife he used to kill so many, and now the knife he was going to use to fuck her.

"Billy, please," she whimpered, trying to grind herself on his buldge. She knew he'd never let her take control--that was the one rule he'd always had, but she couldn't take the teasing. She needed him, and she needed him now.

"That's not my name, dollface," Billy's voice was low, a warning. He lifted her delicate hands over her head, locking them in place with the handcuffs. The cold metal was burning against her firey skin, her eyes staring at her lover as innocently as she could muster.

"I'm sorry, Master," She said, and Billy clicked his tongue, accepting her apology. He was going to go easy on her for that, for her punishment was to be dished out later, when he was fully in control of her. The first order of business was the gag. Her moans were delicious, her bratty comebacks and one-liners were not. Billy picked the gag carefully for her, making sure it was pink enough for her. She shook her head, refusing the gag.

"C'mon baby, you know the rules," Billy chided softly, and she opened her mouth obediently for him. He could've came on the spot, the way her mouth was so beautifully wrapped around the gag. She was his--all his--and he would kill anyone that got in the way of his relationship with her.

Now that she wasn't going to talk, Billy went about the games. Some nights, he enjoyed having her squeal and move and shift around him, but tonight, he wanted complete control. He had to have it. And she was more than willing to give it up to him, her heart was beating out of her chest for it.

"You're such a good pet," Billy groaned, his hands flying around her body, touching her. It wasn't a soft touch, Billy was in the mood for rough tonight. And she would oblige. 

He started with the blindfold, then, pressing it against her face as she looked at him through long lashes. He removed her vision, her ability to speak, and now she was nothing but a blind doll for him to fuck. And he was to enjoy every second of it.

He brandished his knife, enjoying the way the handle felt against his hand. He brought the tip of the blade to her forearm, pressing it lightly. A few drops of blood and a small scream of pleasure allowed him to get more comfortable. Picking the blade up, Billy licked the droplets of blood, enjoying the way iron taste exploded in his mouth.

He moved the knife down lower, her moaning encouraging him to keep going. He pressed the knife against her stomach, carefully pressing down and drawing more blood. He kept the game up for a while, allowing little cuts to dot her body as he licked them for all they were worth, her body warm against him. He kept the knife with him, carefully touching the blade against her neck, warning her against any movement. She was to stay still for her master.

He began to grind his erection into her, his dick buldge growing more and more as she moaned softly against the gag. He took his jeans off, keeping the tip of the knife against her left breast, the cool metal burning into her hot skin.

"Stay still, princess," Billy whispered. The sounds of his pants unzipping filled the room, and the shuffling noises of him undressing kept her aware of what was going on. She wanted to whimper for him, to let him know she wanted him, but she knew if she did he'd torture her even more.

She let out a whimper, and froze when Billy let out a dark, devious chuckle.

"Well, princess, someone's eager for me tonight," He tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, drawing the blade closer to her neck. Threatening her.

"I don't want you to make a goddamn noise. No moans, no whimpers, nothing. If I do," he pressed the knife deeper, drawing three tiny spots of blood. "You know the punishment."

She nodded, and Billy went about doing to her what he wanted. She was his naughty girl, wasn't she? His hands went up her naked thighs, a soft pink thong was all she was wearing. He'd touch it with a finger softly, tantalizingly, and remove it suddenly, leaving her wanting more. He kept this game up for a while, until he got tired of it and gave it up for a new game.

He spanked her, hard. On her thighs, leaving an imprint of his hand. She made no noise other than a sharp intake of air, and Billy wondered how hard he could slap her before she broke. He would fuck her senseless if she was a good girl and listened to him. Fully.

She could feel the tears dropping from her eyes and being absorbed into the blindfold. She could feel Billy press himself against her, then slap her, and draw himself away. She could feel him lick up her thighs, teasing her, taunting her with what she could've had if she behaved like he wanted her to.

She inhaled as the knife pressed against her thigh, this time harder than what Billy previously would've dared. She made no movement, no noise or any indication of malcontent. She was as still as ever as Billy dragged it upwards, slicing her thigh as he lapped the blood up. He chuckled against her.

"Seeing you covered in your own blood...really gets my dick hard," He breathed. "Now I'm gonna take that out on you, dollface."

He put the knife down. The noise echoed against the stillness as she waited for Billy to start. To her surprise, and horror, Billy bit her on the thigh, right where her cut was. It took everything in her not to scream, but she made no noise besides a gasp of air that was quickly gone as fast as it had came.

Billy shifted the thong aside, exposing her cunt. He licked it once, relishing the taste on his tongue. He kept lapping at it, his tongue hitting her clit, before he slide his muscle inside of her, fucking her with his tongue. He could feel her breathing hitch, he knew how desperate she was for his cock. He could feel her muscles relax around him, how his tongue was pleasuring her.

"God, you're amazing," his nose pressed against her pubic hair, he took one last thrust of his tongue before licking her clit, teasing her once more. He slapped her on the clit, the sudden burst of pain nothing more than a sharp breath and a small, but audible, moan.

"Oh, does the princess think she can moan yet?" Billy's tone was dark, and she was still, aware of what she had just done. She wanted to plead with him to go gentle, but she couldn't, not while she was gagged. She was at his mercy.

He thrust into her, no warning, no lube, nothing. Silence ensued as the lewd noises of his balls slapped against her ass, his thrusts powerful and deep as he took himself out nearly all the way and dove back in. It hurt, but the pain mixed with pleasure in a way that she couldn't tell if she was aroused or abused, and she knew that either way, she didn't care. This was her Billy. This was her punishment.

He continued rutting into her, his groans and moans showing how much he truly was aroused. He was slapping her still; her face, her thighs, her tits--nothing was off limits. She kept every moan hushed, her breathing the only indication of her feelings. She didn't want to risk another moan.

And for his part, Billy was grateful she was listening to him. He continued to fuck her, taking care to make sure he left his handprints on her face and thighs, marking her as his in every manor of conceivable thought. He was hard and rough, his cock filling her up all the way, stretching her to her limits. She knew how good of a fuck Billy was, and Billy was aware of how good of a body she had.

His thrusts became more sloppy as he approached climax, his vision going darker as he continued to go farther and farther into her, not caring if she felt the need to orgasm or not. This was his night, after all.

He came, his dick burrowing inside of her, his cum leaking out of him in thick, warm ropes. He continued to thrust, bringing her to orgasm, her breathing heavy to avoid any kind of noise. Her pussy clenched deliciously on his dick, milking him for everything he had and more. He chuckled when she whimpered, his dick leaving her empty and cold.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it, princess?" She shook her head, and Billy removed the blindfold. Her eyes had tears peaking in them, and her nose was red. She was as pretty as a picture, her mouth gagged and her naked form on display for him.

Maybe...that was what he'd do next time, he pondered.

Thank you for reading! If you could like, reblog or comment that's super encouraging and helps me have the motivation to keep doing this! Thank you loves 💕💕

[bestworstcase]

i would personally love to see you go on the "rwby is a polytheistic narrative" tangent

i have already made the post(s) but fuck if i can find them now. BASICALLY,

where the rwby fandom tends to go awry vis-a-vis the brothers (and the blacksmith, since v9) is interpreting them through a monotheistic and specifically christian lens: i do not mean in the sense of the moral framework of christianity (although there are shades of that to) but rather in the basic conception of what God is and what the role of the God is cosmologically speaking.

in short, people keep looking for a Supreme Creator who decides how the world is and by extension defines what is right and what is wrong. acting in violation of God’s Design is necessarily wrong, for the same reason that saying 2+2=5 is necessarily wrong; it’s incorrect. the God made everything a certain way and it can never be anything but that certain way, because that’s how it is, just as two and two make four.

the first problem here of course is that rwby does not have a God. even from the start of the religious narrative coming out into the open with qrow’s tale of the two brothers, it’s made crystal clear that there were two gods who made the world together and were co-equal creators of mankind. this in spite of the biased framing that qrow, and later ozpin-via-jinn, use to cast light as the benevolent one and darkness as the evil one.

the existence of lesser deities is not in and itself non-monotheistic necessarily; for example, christianity has the devil and acknowledges the existence of numerous non-divine supernatural entities some of whom are worshipped (by non-christians) and are thus gods. the monotheistic conception of these kind of beings is often that they are subordinate agents of the God or else adversarial “false gods” who might do harm or otherwise lead people astray.

there are a lot of fantasy stories that feature pantheons whilst also being fundamentally monotheistic in their treatment of those gods, and this is how monotheists who lack familiarity with polytheistic traditions reflexively tend to look at pantheons: there’s a Ruler God and then gods who follow the ruler god and then any gods who have a more antagonistic relationship with the ruler god are devil-figures. this is a tendency that i believe rwby is deliberately exploring in the same sort of way it developing characters by setting up stock archetypes and then deconstructing and elaborating on them.

but you can see it very clearly in the fandom responses to the brothers before and after the end of volume nine: before, the lost fable was almost always read from an underlying presupposition that light was the Supreme Creator and darkness a Subordinate Devil—even when light was understood to be cruel and unfair—such that light’s judgment of salem’s character and exhortation that she needs to learn “the importance of life and death” was taken to be objective fact. it doesn’t matter if God’s Design is unfair; it’s inviolate and you must accept reality. similarly, the conception of salem and ozma’s stint as god-rulers was (and continues to be) parsed as sinful—they are “false gods” and ozma is lead astray from the right path laid out by the Supreme Creator.

after? the very first thing that happened after 9.10 dropped—immediately, the reaction to the new revelations was “oh, so the brothers were false pretenders playing god and transgressing against God’s will.” immediately, the fandom slotted the blacksmith in as the Supreme Creator who makes the rules. insofar as this refiguring led to a general reassessment of salem, it was that she’d either be furious when she found out the brothers weren’t even real gods or (SIGH) refuse to believe it out of hand because she thinks humans are pathetic ants. the notion that she needs to learn her lesson because she is arrogant and selfish and does not understand the true importance of life and death did not budge whatsoever; the blacksmith was presumed to be the true supreme authority whose lesson salem needed to understand.

(WHICH WILL BE FUNNY IN A FEW YEARS IF I’M RIGHT ABOUT SALEM KNOWING THE BLACKSMITH)

but. polytheistic religions do not work like that. and before getting into how they do work i think it is helpful to explain why they’re different. it sort of all comes down to:

what is a god?

broadly defined, a god is some form of entity with some form of power or influence over some phenomenon, which interacts in some emotionally or spiritually meaningful way with people who worship it and regard it as divine. and you can’t really narrow it down from there without drawing a line that excludes some entities that were or are inarguably gods. in the polytheistic sense, if it’s regarded as a divine and/or worshipped as a god, ipso facto it is a god.

which can get sticky and complicated fast, because within a polytheistic system the delineation between “god” and “non-divine supernatural being” and “powerful human authority” and “culture hero” and “ancestors watching over me” is often not at all clean or impermeable; if you are a farmer living in, say, the roman empire, there is not particularly meaningful distinction between mars and the emperor in terms of their power to alter your circumstances for better or worse, nor in your relative personal importance to them. they are both abstracted and distant to you but also very real and imminent in their ability to benefit or harm you from afar.

this is how the boundary between mortals and gods becomes porous. some gods are very big (mars), some are quite small (the lares), and some mortals are very small (you) while others are quite big (the emperor). your household lar may be the closer presence in your life, but the roman emperor indisputably has greater power. what then is the difference between a god and man?

it’s not a measurement of power—which is the basic yardstick monotheistic systems use, with the God being a supreme, omnipotent force or entity and everything else, by virtue of having limits, Not God. it’s not about a particular type of being, as if “god” were functionally a species. godhood is a role. divinity is socially defined.

how is it defined in rwby? depends on who you ask. (this in itself is one of the clear tells that the narrative is thinking about gods polytheistically, that it eschews an unambiguous answer.) maybe it’s something that uses magic and comes back from the dead. maybe it’s an unseen force all guiding our choices for some higher purpose. or maybe it’s a vast but finite being that gives of itself to bring new things into existence. or perhaps an adjudicator, or a wise trickster who shares magic with their chosen people and leaves the rest of the world alone.

the brothers are gods, by several of these definitions. salem is a god by at least one, maybe three, and ozma is a god by the first two. the maidens and silver-eyed warriors have magic and complex relationships with death, as well as mythologies that lend themselves to deification—personification of the four seasons on the one hand, culture heroes on the other. the only reason for the spirits in the relics to not be considered gods is that nobody but ozma knew them until very recently, so they’ve never been worshipped. but once they’re free? gods.

if you brought the cat or the jabberwalker or the herbalist or whomever to remnant, they’d probably end up gods.

the tree is a god. the blacksmith is one of its aspects. (she is also plato’s demiurge—the maker and shaper of primordial matter into tangible forms in accordance with their forms, who is not the God in the monotheistic sense but a philosophical construct for modeling a point of transition from formless raw material into the well-ordered and differentiated world that is now. this is a subtle but very important distinction; the platonic demiurge is not an authority, merely the benevolent force which fashions and shapes.)

in a few centuries it is not inconceivable that team rwby will end up being gods, via posthumous deification of culture heroes.

the notion of a “false god” in a polytheistic context is inherently a little silly, and the kind of accusation you don’t make unless you intend to wind up ripped to shreds by maenads, PENTHEUS. which is not to say that there are no gods who misrepresent themselves—vucub-caquix comes to mind—by boasting of greater power or influence than they truly have, but generally the framing is that this is uncouth and self-aggrandizing and something that pisses off other gods whom they’re disrespecting, not so much that these figures are false pretenders to divinity.

in large part because of this way of thinking about gods, polytheistic traditions tend to be a lot less about belief than they are about practice. monotheistic faiths have orthodoxy—correct beliefs. the equivalent in polytheistic worship is orthopraxy—correct praxis.

this is why, whenever i discuss salem’s religiosity, i talk about how she does things correctly or the right way, and why i describe the brothers’ retaliation as a punishment for worshipping them. because what salem does in the lost fable’s first act is the essential interaction at the heart of polytheistic worship. if you’re christian or culturally christian, you’ve probably heard the saying that “faith without deeds is dead;” the polytheistic equivalent is that ritual offering or sacrifice without prayer is useless.

there is NO POINT, within a polytheistic context, to venerating or propitiating a god UNLESS you can ask for something in return and expect that god to either grant your request or offer you a courteous refusal. asking the gods for things in exchange for what you give to them is the foundation of polytheistic worship.

from a monotheistic perspective this can seem bizarre, because monotheism is not so grounded in mutual reciprocity; you worship God because He is the Creator and therefore deserves your veneration. (yet there is reciprocity, even at the furthest extremes of christianity; christians expect to be saved from hell because that is what their God promises in return for their faith.)

but the polytheistic view tends to be that the gods… exist. they’re there. they live in this world just as you do, however powerful or strange they may be. they’re part of your community. whatever you personally might think of them, they’re there, and you’re obliged to take their presence into consideration in the same way you’re obliged to consider your neighbors as you go about your life.

the god of the woods lives in the woods. do you like him? maybe not. maybe you’d really be happier if he wasn’t there. but he is there, and he lives in the woods, so if you have to go into the woods to hunt, you should observe the proper etiquette and make an appropriate offerings to entreat him for safe passage, because you are entering his home. it’s the same basic politeness as bringing a bottle of wine to a dinner party.

the idea behind correct practice is that gods are much vaster than you and much more powerful, so it pays to be very precise and deliberate and clear about what you want so as to avoid any misunderstandings or accidental insults. the reverse side of course is that you expect them to uphold their end of the social contract; if you’re going to all this effort to show them due respect and consideration, you are entitled to fair treatment in return. the gods are not always fair and may not understand ‘fairness’ the way you do, but that’s why you need to tell them why you’ve come to them.

and this is quite plainly the way salem conceives of religion: she expects this reciprocal give-and-take, do ut des, which is why she brings flowers to light and leaves them upon his shrine after he turns her away. yes, she was upset that he said no—she’s grieving. her tiny hope was crushed. it’s not fair! but when he repeats his refusal and removes her from his domain, she departs without bothering him further. her emotions overwhelmed her momentarily, and then she calmed down and accepted that he wouldn’t grant her request.

she doesn’t decide that the brothers are monsters until they behave monstrously toward her—reviving and incinerating her lover in her arms twice over because they’re having an argument. (they’re brothers. it took years after this happened before it dawned on her how fallible they were, how she’d accidentally turned them against each other. salem took it as a given that they would act in harmony with each other.) and once they reveal themselves to be unjust and unworthy, she cuts them out of her heart and dedicates herself to overturning their rule.

ozma in contrast seems to hold a more monotheistic or at least monolatrous view of the brothers, as Supreme Creators whose word is law, with the god of light being Good and the god of darkness Evil. this is the root cause of the conflict between salem and ozma and why it’s so intractable; they have fundamentally different ideas about godhood and whether the brothers are gods or Gods.

and salem’s perspective is completely right, as a simple matter of narrative fact. not only are the brothers not Supreme Creators, there is no Supreme Creator at all. rwby is a Godless story. there are gods, there is the demiurge, there is the cosmic tree. light believes that he’s supposed to be the Supreme Creator; he is, literally, in the wrong story. he’s a god with a God complex. and that’s what makes him the final obstacle the characters must overcome before remnant can be free.

and that’s what makes rwby a polytheistic narrative thank you for coming to my tedtalk

[nekoooooo-p]

Hello! May i can ask 4 frei or charles (hello charlotte) like ur partner?, sorry my english is bad t_t

A/N: My English is not perfect either, haha, and of course you can! If your native language is Russian, I can translate, but only if Russian is the only other language I know... Also sorry for disappearing, I'm a little burned out.

Okay, let's go!

Warn: I cover up the holes in my ignorance of the canon with slight romance and OOC. I played Charlotte not so long ago, but I almost forgot some of the characters, and unfortunately Charlie n Frei is one of those characters...Please forgive me for this...

Hello Charlotte! Headcanons: Charles and Frei - your partners.

~Charles Eyler~

× Charles worries about you when you do something sloppy.

× He loves spending time with you.

× You communicate mainly on the Internet, but in reality you also know each other.

× He tries to protect you as much as possible if something happens, and if it doesn’t work out, he helps you psychologically and physically after the incident and apologizes very long and sadly.

× Perhaps he will write about you in his fanfic.

× Charles is a good listener.

× If he falls in love with you, he will try to do everything to make you feel good... even if he doesn’t succeed, know that he tried very hard.

× He will also torment himself for a long time about his failure, turning it over in his head and thinking about where he's fucked up. Please support him.

× In the same case of falling in love, he will be the first to suggest you run away. Anri will also receive an offer, but after you. But accepting his offer or refusing, like Anri, is your choice.

× He will reveal himself to you completely sooner or later.

× The tulpa treats you with aggression. Charles is incredibly irritated by this. Scarlett thinks that you are preventing Charles from concentrating on his studies and Mother.

× And frankly, she's right.

× Charlie is very shy to kiss you. Therefore, you will have to take the first step.

× He trusts you.

× He appreciates you.

× Please trust and appreciate him in return.

× You (don’t) want everything to be fine =), do you?

Dark lace dividers: prayr on Tumblr

pic from Tumblr: albedoxkeo

~Frei~

× If you mean Frei, then keep in mind that your subconscious itself gives the appearance of the Parasite.

× Who knows what he might look like in your head?

× Frei - a reflection of you from the inside. He is the truth. Horrible and rude in places.

× Parasites are basically sarcastic companions, aren't they? But if you were in harmony with yourself, it would be easier for you to bear it.

× Well.

× Frei.

× Your partner.

× Partner or partner?

.

.

.

× "I cleaned up your Library. Isn't your head clearer?"

× He doesn't care if the library suddenly looks creepy. This is your mind. It was important to him to clean up the mess, and if he exposed old wounds in your head... it's just you. You. The host of the parasite.

× "I came up with a new melody. Will you listen?"

× He started playing without your decision. As you can see, he doesn't care a bit.

× He often gives wise advice. It's worth listening to him. Now he is your subconscious.

× However, you don't have to listen to him. His job is to voice advice.

× He loves to play with your hair. If they are long. If it's short, he just combs your hair sometimes with a small comb. If they are very short, then he obviously doesn't do it. But he can pat you on the head.

× The more you communicate, the more you grow together and become one. Rotting.

× Speaking of how you could work as partners....

× He gives you advice and puts order in your head, dispelling fog and anxiety. And you follow his advice.

× By the way, having someone like Frei in your head is also very convenient because if you have an exam ahead, he will have time to sort out the memories you need. Convenient, isn't it?

× ...as ...partner.

× He's very tactile.

× Honestly, this is self-cest. Don't you think? Especially if he didn’t love you right away, having gotten into your head.

× However, he cares and appreciates you from the very beginning. Albeit from one’s own needs and benefits.

× He's cruel, but he does it for you. Revealing the rotten truth is better than always getting dust in your eyes, right?

× Despite his tactility, he only kissed you once or twice at best.

× You may have started to feel sleepy. How strange.

× He doesn't like being ignored. He will force you to pay attention to him.

× For example, he will scatter your thoughts so that your head is a mess, he will slip in incorrect memories and do all sorts of mischief, until you attack him in your sleep shouting “stop it!”

× He's not a Yandere. He simply hates being ignored. Therefore he will do it.

.

.

× ...Yandere Frei is a topic for a separate, albeit not large, post. (almost not a hint:D)

[corrodedseraphine]

perfectly wrong | #4 I am afraid to trust you

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

chapter summary: When once again Steve saves your life he sets his goal, to help and protect you, the way he wants to do it is quite…surprising.

TW: mentions of: pregnancy, domestic violence, bruises, near death experience, misscarige, blood, bleeding out, strong medicine use, suicide

The story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

Your opinion, feedback, questions or ideas are always welcome! If there is something what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about it in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

"Where the hell have you been?!" Travis shouted as soon as you entered the house.

"At work." You said without even looking at him, as quickly as possible you wanted to go to the bathroom and then just to bed.

Unfortunately, he had other plans. As you passed by he grabbed you firmly by the arm and pushed you so that you bounced against the wall.

"Bulllshit! I called your work and Buckley said she hadn't seen you there today and didn't even know you were supposed to be there!" he came closer.

You were in complete shock, the lie came out and you had absolutely no idea how to get out of it. Travis, seeing your reaction, did not hesitate and slapped you. "Are you cheating on me?! This is what you need now?! A rich fucker who would take you and that brat in, huh?!"

"N-no!" you screeched. "You know damn well that I hate him, how could I cheat on you with him?!"

He clenched his hand into a fist and swung, this time fortunately his hand landed in the wall right next to your head. "Pretty boys like him don't like sluts like you, do you understand? You are worthless, he wouldn't touch you with a fucking stick! You are mine and no one else will be able to handle you." saying this he looked straight into your eyes. He looked with contempt and disgust. For the first time in your life it occurred to you that Steve's hate-filled gaze, which pierced you to the core, didn't make you feel as awful as Travis' did now. You felt like you were beginning to believe his words, which seemed to burn into your brain. "I'm leaving, I don't know when I'll be back, when I look at you I want to puke." He said and left the house slamming the door leaving you alone.

Your eyes were burning as was the cheek he had just slapped you on. All the nerve endings in your body were crying out for help and at least the slightest relief. You wanted to cry, but the tears would not fly, everything around you seemed to be an obstacle, one bigger than the other.

Without even changing into your pajamas, you lay down on your bed and moments later fell asleep, hoping that at least in your dreams something good would happen to you.

That night when Steve came home he was accompanied by a great feeling of anxiety. On the one hand, somewhere he had always been aware that you hated him as much as he hated you, but lately he had spent more and more time wondering where this hatred really came from, going back in his mind to the very distant beginnings of high school. To some extent he told himself that he didn't care what you thought or how you felt but deep down he knew that wasn't true. Despite the fact that you weren't able to look at each other he always, even in the slightest, looked to you for approval, just like the rest of the people.

Whatever had changed between the two of you over the past weeks also made it so that in addition to your increasing need for acceptance, the thought that he was the villain in your life became heavier and heavier, quite as if it had suddenly become a heavy stone tied to his leg that was slowly dragging him down. The fact that you were refusing to let him help you was like tentacles that were just waiting to grab him and finish him off.

What could he do to help you? How could he convince you to accept it from him at all? Should he give up and leave you alone or keep trying to help you in any possible way?

These questions and his persistent search for answers made him fall asleep full of worry, just as if he sensed that something bad was happening. Something told him that this night would definitely not be one of the peaceful ones.

An uncomfortable pain pierced your body and roused you from sleep. It was getting stronger and stronger, unbearable by the second. Not really knowing what was happening, you sat up on the bed and turned on the lamp that stood on the bedside table. You looked around the room, Travis was nowhere to be found, you closed your eyes listening for other sounds indicating his presence, but you were in the house completely alone. Maybe that's better. You thought. Then you felt another stab of pain, much stronger that before. Your gaze went to the big stain of blood on the blanket between your legs.

Terrified, you wanted to get up right away and run to the phone, but the pain was so strong that you could not move from the bed. Panic began to overwhelm your common sense, fear filled your system, but as a last flash you remembered the walkie-talkie you kept in the drawer of your bedside table.

Steve's weak sleep was interrupted by someone's cry. A cry for help? Is this another nightmare?

Code red, code red, code red.

It took him only a moment to realize that it wasn't a dream, but a quiet cry and a plea for help coming from the other end of the room where his walkie-talkie lay. From the very beginning of his Upside Down adventure, he had always kept it in the same place at night and made sure there were always charged batteries in case something bad happened.

"Robin? Nancy?" Your voice was barely audible, breaking with each successive sound. "Help- p-please, Jonathan? Please, code red, please." He broke off and immediately ran to the device.

"Y/n? It's Steve, what's wrong?" he asked.

"It hurts, it hurts so bad, so much blood." you cried. "Help me, please."

"Be there in ten." he said and putting on only his shoes he ran out of the house. Disregarding traffic signs and speed limits he actually found himself in front of your house in less than ten minutes. Fortunately, the door of the house was unlocked. Without closing it behind him, he moved deeper into the house, calling your name. The smell of alcohol was all over the room, with empty bottles and shards of glass scattered in places, but that wasn't the most important thing now.

"Steve!" you said loudly with your remaining strength to direct him to the bedroom. The sight he found there terrified him, but he had no time for paralysis now, he knew that every next second could decide about your and the baby's life.

"Can you move?" he asked, running up to you.

"N-no, it hurts too much-" you replied, holding your stomach tightly, the pain was intolerable.

"It's okay, I've got you. Both of you." he replied quickly. "We'll go to the hospital, okay? I'll carry you to the car." Feeling his lungs slowly running out of air, he picked you up and carried you out of the house straight to the car all the while calming down in his mind.

Focus, Harrington. This is not the time to panic. Calm down.

The road to the hospital passed a little more cautiously than the one to your house, but still lightning fast.

"I'll go quickly to get the wheelchair and come back with it to pick you up, hold on okay? Just a little while longer." He said hurriedly and ran straight toward the hospital entrance. Hardly anything reached you at that moment, pain and fear occupied one hundred percent of your concentration, the whole outside world became one big blur and background noise. A moment later, the door on the grazing side opened with a jolt and there, in addition to Steve, appeared other nurses and a doctor who transferred you to a wheelchair. Curling up in a ball the whole time you cried every now and then whining in pain, you were unable to stop it, completely giving in to the emotions that were tearing at you.

Steve all the way to the door of the operating room walked step by step beside you, keeping his hand on your shoulder repeating that you are not alone and that everything will be fine, unfortunately the doctor did not want to let him in further explaining that because of your personal relationship he could do more harm there than help. When you and the rescue team disappeared behind the heavy white doors he was left alone in the large and quiet hallway.

For almost an hour he sat against the wall nervously combing his hand through his hair for the millionth time when nurse Judy approached him. She had a plastic cup of water in one hand and clothes in the other, which she tossed into his lap.

"I think you should change." She said, pointing to the blood stains on his pajamas. It was your blood. Blood that looked quite unreal. Tonight was like a nightmare, a vile product of his imagination from which he had no escape.

"Thanks." he replied quietly. The woman sighed and sat down next to him.

"You saved her life, Steve." she said firmly. "If you had shown up here a few minutes too late, neither she nor the baby would have survived."

"Jesus…" At the thought, his throat tightened and his vision blurred.

"Steve I know it's hard for you, but it's not over. Someone has to help her. If she doesn't free herself from her current situation the next time if she gets here it may be too late."

"Do you think it's because of him?"

"We honestly have no idea what caused the bleeding, there are so many causes, and she doesn't want to tell anyone anything."

He suddenly felt anger at you. How could you even at a time like this be so stubborn and not allow help? His clenched fist and tightened jaw did not escape Judy's attention.

"Steve." she said calmly but firmly. "Anger won't help here, the girl is going through hell, and she's clearly lost. She needs someone who will get her back on track and not drive her down a dead end street with no way out."

"How can I force her to let me help her?" helplessness could be seen in his tone.

"Forcing her to accept help can have the opposite effect, my boy."

"Then what should I do?"

"Convince her. Show that she can count on you, prove that you are capable of helping her."

"She's so damn stubborn." he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She is scared, Steve. She's scared and hurt, which is why a huge amount of patience is needed here."

"I really want to help her," he said.

"I know." The woman sighed and put her hand on his shoulder. "Start by changing your clothes and then go to her, show that she's not alone, just be careful, she's been given some pretty strong medication, so she might be a little… unsteady."

The darkness in the room was distracted only by a small lamp near the bed you were lying on. The quiet and rhythmic beeping of the device mimicked your heartbeat, and the IV drip flowed into your veins at a slow pace. Should he be here? He had no idea. He knew he wanted to be here, it was unknown why he felt the need to be with you, but whether you wanted him to be here was another matter entirely.

"Why?" you asked without turning to face him. You were lying on your side with your head facing the window, in which his silhouette was reflected. Under the influence of the drugs you felt heavy but also numb, even if you wanted to at that moment you didn't feel a bit of strength to turn around.

"Why what?" he asked and approached you so that you were face to face.

"Why do you keep saving me?" a sob came out of your mouth, which released a whole waterfall of tears with it. "You hate me. Why do you save my life every time? I don't understand." Even your hand seemed too heavy for you to wipe your wet eyes and cheeks.

"I don't hate you." he said quietly slowly reaching his hand toward your face. "For years I thought I hated you, but the more I think about it I'm less and less sure it was hate. I don't understand either." The tone of his voice was as warm as the touch of his hand on your face. He pushed the wet strands of hair aside, took a napkin and began to clean your face.

"Why are you taking care of me?" his behavior made you even more emotional, and that didn't help stem the tears.

"Stop asking why, y/n." he whispered. This was another question he didn't know the answer to. He had always felt the need to take care of others, especially those he loved, but for the past few years he hadn't expected that you would someday be among those people as well. "Just let me, please."

You didn't know if it was a dream or if the drugs were strong enough to make you hallucinate, but now before your eyes was painted the image of a boy who almost always looked at you with hatred and loathing. This boy now had a worried expression on his face, his pale face and blackened eyes indicated fatigue, but in addition to this time you could see concern.

Is it possible that Steve Harrington cared about you? Was this concern sincere?

"I'm afraid." you said quietly. "I'm afraid to trust you."

He couldn't hide that these words hurt. He lowered his head down wanting to hide the painful grimace on his face. He knew you had the right to do so, if the two of you were in the opposite situation you would probably be the last person he would trust, both of you had caused each other so much pain that it would be hard to forget it just like that. Taking a deep breath he was getting ready to reply that you had the right to do so and try to convince again, but you began to speak further changing the subject.

"I wanted to die, Steve. Every morning I woke up with the thought that it would be better if it was all over, but today I was so scared. When it actually could have been the end-" you started crying again.

"Hey, everything is fine now, you're safe." He knelt as close to the bed as possible. He rubbed your cheeks with one hand and grabbed your hand with the other.

"I wanted to kill myself Steve. I wanted to kill myself and the baby, I'm a monster." you started to get hysterical.

"You are not a monster y/n, we both know very well what monsters look like. We fought them, together, and won. We will win now too. Look at me." He directed your face so that you were looking straight into his eyes. You noticed with a shock that they too were full of tears. "Just let me help you, we overcame the damn end of the world together, we can handle this too." he sniffed. Fatigue and nerves were winning out over self-control, more and more question marks were appearing in his head, he didn't understand anything, he didn't understand why he so suddenly wanted to protect you from all the suffering of the world despite the fact that for the past years he himself had intentionally caused you pain. Looking at you now, he could hardly restrain himself from taking you in his arms to once again become a shield for you. No matter how much something inside him lashed out to be as close to you as possible, he knew that this would be crossing your comfort zone, which was already violated enough by everything else.

He spent the entire night at your bedside thinking of various plans on how he could help you. Each one seemed better than the last however there were too many and he had too little time to do it. One thing was certain - you couldn't go back there. Holding on to that thought when you got into his car after being discharged from the hospital, he took a completely different route.

"Steve what are we doing here?" you asked when you stopped in front of a big house with a pool in the richest neighborhood of Hawkins. You weren't stupid, you knew perfectly well that this was the Harringtons' property, but you didn't know why you were here now.

"You're not going back there." he said as if he was proud of himself for coming up with the greatest idea in the whole world.

"What do you mean I'm not going back there?!" you nervously almost jerked out of the car. What the hell was he thinking?

"Welcome to your new home." his tone was nonchalant, completely as if the most ordinary thing in the world was now happening.

"Are you kidding me? I can't live with you!" "Oh excuse me! Do you have any better idea?!" he shouted slamming the car door.

"Going back to my house?!" you exclaimed, increasingly annoyed.

"I don't even want to hear it!" your annoyance transmitted to him, thus you started arguing in his driveway.

"What is wrong with you?! You can't just make me stay here!"

"Are you sure?! Because you have two choices! Two!" he rested his hands heavily on the hood of the car and looked straight into your eyes. He was angry. "You stay here with me, where this psycho won't even think to look for you, or you go back to your place and the first thing I do is going to Hopper and reporting domestic violence on a pregnant woman!"

That's how two people who couldn't stand in the same room without arguing for more than an hour came to live together. And this was not the end of the surprises that fate prepared in your way.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @sheisjoeschateau @hollandweather @lma1986 @scarletwitchwhore @freezaz123 @ihatepeanutss

[chloe-caulfield94]

Max is a hero, because she cares about people no one else cares about

Max refuses to give up on people everyone else has given up on, and I think that's the most heroic thing one can do. This becomes evident with her rescues of Chloe and Tristan.

By the time Max returned to Arcadia Bay, Chloe had no one standing in her corner, believing in her. "Broken girl from a broken home", "loser dropout", "whore", "faux punk slut". That's how people saw her. Almost everyone treated her with disdain. Rachel was gone, having left a letter how she had met someone new and exciting. I don't doubt that Joyce loved her daughter. But the way she spoke about her, how Chloe supposedly "chose to stay angry", betrays that she had written Chloe off. If it's Chloe's choice to be miserable, then no one has to bother helping her, right? Because she could just choose to be her old, happy self again. Joyce decided to move on. Just like she had hidden away all of William's photographs, she relegated her daughter to the role of an irreformable troublemaker that nothing could be done about.

And the worst thing was that Chloe gave up on herself. "He acts like I'm some kind of problem to solve. Sometimes I am a problem, though", "I screwed it up somehow. Like I screw everything up. 'Cause I'm a fucking screw-up", "I don't deserve it. I'm so selfish", "I know I've been selfish, but for once I think I should accept my fate". After years of being told she's broken, worthless, unworthy, a lost cause, she finally accepted it as the gospel truth.

When Max tore up the butterfly photograph, she was the only person in the world still choosing to believe in Chloe. Believing that she could have a new beginning. That it wasn't too late for Chloe to experience a first day of the rest of her life. Standing by someone who would otherwise be alone, wanting someone no one else wants - that's the most heroic thing I can think of.

Tristan's story is eerily similar to Chloe's. He was a lonely, desperate kid who got himself into very bad company. His destiny was to be gunned down. But Max saved him. Because she couldn't let a stranger die. No more than she could let a different stranger die in the bathroom of her school.

It was later revealed that the reason Tristan was able to move between universes so easily was that he had died in EVERY SINGLE UNIVERSE, apart from the "Amberprice" universe Max visited. That means Max, more specifically our version of Max, was the only person in all of existence to care about him. A boy who was destined to have his life extinguished across all of creation, and Max saved him. Once again, Max stood by someone no one else wanted to stand by. No one would cry for Tristan. A dead gutter rat carted off for communal burial. But Max gave him a new chance at life.

Both Tristan and Chloe grasped at their second chances and utilized them fully. A year after the Storm Chloe is living together with the girl of her dreams, she's making friends, she's found a job she's good at. She's moving forward in time. And Tristan has found love and friendship. He's no longer adrift. He has a safe haven now. All that love, friendship and happiness is of Max's making.

To me, Max Caulfield personifies the hope that everyone, no matter how broken, lost or derided by others they may be, will find at least one person willing to stand by them. Willing to believe in them, even if they no longer believe in themselves. And giving hope is what heroes do.

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Sweet Tyranny

Pt. 2

"I can't stop now that I have started playing his game, Y/n." He stands up from the ground too. "That's why, I'll be his dog and kill him."

You stared at him in shock, complete disbelief. Kill? He's going to commit murder? This was too much to process. "...Minami, murder isn't solution." You reminded him, hoping that he would understand. But his blank face was telling you otherwise. "You shouldn't kill. That's wrong!"

"Then what am I supposed to do?" He blankly asked, no emotion visible on his expression whatsoever.

"Tell the police! That man is wanted criminal, Minami!" You almost pleaded him but he shook his head in refusal.

Looking at your reaction, he regretted telling you this but there was no turning back now. "You can't understand the situation I'm in,Y/n. I can't tell police about it. Because if they arrest him then I won't be able to buy medications for my mother!" He raised his voice, his eyes begging you to understand.

"Do you think your mother would like the medications that you got by murder?!"

His eyebrows furrowed. "You don't understand..." Minami gritted his teeth in frustration. "You're not the one with a sick mother and so poor that barely can afford food to eat everyday! You don't understand, Y/n. You can't understand." The boy spoke in slightly higher voice. If you would look at Minami, anyone would think that he's angry. But, in truth, he's desperate. The boy is hoping that his one and only friend will understand his situation, no matter how fucked up it is, that she won't leave him. It's true that Minami respects Dino, that he might even be closest to the father figure the young boy could ever have, but he also understood the wrong of murder. However, did people like him ever had a choice in life?

Rich could do whatever they pleased. They could buy a house only to burn it down for fun without worrying. They never had to eat crumbs of old bread and be happy with it. They probably would be able to cure someone with the same illness as him mother in no time but Minami wasn't rich. He was only a child living in poverty.

"Lack of money is the root of all evil." said George Bernard Shaw and he couldn't have been more right. Money controls people, money controls society, money controls everything. Money controls every single one of us. People who are in desperate need for money, whether for selfish or selfless reasons, will abandon their morals in order to have it.

Money can't buy happiness they said. But lack of it surely causes misery.

But how were you, a child, going to understand that? Anyone would be terrified if their best friend just confessed to have the connections with the most wanted criminal in Brazil. "Minami...I-I'm sorry but that's just messed up. Police will help you, you know." You tried to explain but the boy just refused to understand. Or maybe it's you who refused to accept his point of view.

Minami stared at you silently for a moment before glueing his eyes on the ground instead. "Forget what I said. I-I just joked, sorry." He quietly mumbled but loud enough for you to hear him.

You knew. You knew he wasn't joking but the way he immediately changed the topic, you weren't able to question him further.

After that, you left as soon as you could. Were you scared? Of Minami? No. You wanted to help him, stay by his side and you would have gladly, if your mother wouldn't have called.

The uneasy feeling spreaded in your heart, consuming it and filling your brain up with immense fear. "Say goodbye to Minami and come back to home, we've to talk." that's what your mom said and maybe you were just overthinking but the way she said goodbye instead of see you later won't leave your mind, not even for a second.

You hurriedly opened the door of your house. Your mother was in the living room, talking someone on the phone but when she heard that you were back, she hang up on them.

"What's wrong, mom?"

She hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth. "We're going back to Japan."

@kikaicore this one is incredibly short, I know, but I promise next part will be longer. Plus I have such angst in my mind lol.

[good-beanswrites]

Can I request a director's commentary for the drabble that started it all? (Mahiru visits Amane)

Though since it's over 500 words (so much for "drabble=100 words"), I'd put more weight at the beginning.

LISTEN I didn't realize, I got it confused with Sudden Fiction (to be fair, that doesn't have as nice of a ring to it as "drabble") 😂 I guess I'll need to update my tag name hmm... But yes! The very beginning of OoA! I won't include it here because I know I've talked about it before, but there was definitely a lot of pre-planning for this scene just trying to get the au to work in general. I pretty much had to go with a injury swap because any other situation in which Kotoko was left alone with Amane would have resulted in her or Mahiru dying 😭

TW for Amane's cult beliefs and indirect talk of suicide

Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.

I know it's cheap to try and jump start an emotional scene by just saying "they were crying" but I didn't necessarily want the reader to be upset yet, but I wanted the crying to be a warning sign for the reader. We haven't seen Amane allow herself weakness, so it's a big deal that she was pushed to the point of doing so. Mahiru, too, has constantly looked on the bright side and stayed positive in canon, so I wanted to make audiences aware that something That Bad happened to make her heart break too.

Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.

The reality hits Amane in this moment -- the adults aren't going to let her refuse the medical aid. She fell asleep with everything torn off, so the fact that someone came in the middle of the night to put it all back on forced her to realize no matter how many times she takes it off, it won't be enough. As well as the pain and exhaustion, it's her defeat that makes her cry.

“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.

“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane. 

I knew the reader would be thinking of it already, but I tried to highlight the miscommunication as best I could -- Mahiru thinks she's crying over pain, then the fear of Kotoko "punishing" her again, and only later realizes it's something else altogether.

The girl just shook her head. 

She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”

Also. Um. How fucked up is that. Imagine being in a supernatural prison cut off from all reality and nearly killed by someone and your first fear is "my parents might be able to get in and hurt me more for accepting help from someone else." Ah.

“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.” 

“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...” 

She assumes it's Shidou, but honestly it could have been anyone who came to check on her. I played around with Mahiru confessing to doing it herself, but that made things messier than I wanted for this (though we did get a taste of that later on!)

With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her. 

I know people paint Mahiru as oblivious, but I think can read people extremely well (she just chooses to overstep or ignore things she doesn't like). Amane also doesn't really keep her beliefs and past a secret, so Mahiru would have always known what her home life was like. She's realizing right now just how dire the situation was, though.

“I can’t let you do that.”

Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.”  

Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”

“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”

Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…”

"... kills themself when I could have stopped them." This is a really tough moment for Mahiru, because her theme with "letting others follow their beliefs" (Kotoko, Es, her bf) clashes with the feeling of getting a second chance at her crime. She's in the same position, and can save someone who's hurting themself, but she needs to be "cruel" to them to save them, a concept she still can't fathom.

She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”

“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”

I really wanted some line of Mahiru's thoughts here, some kind of emphasis of "NO! That's NOT love!!!!" but nothing felt natural, nor would it go over well with Amane (and Mahiru knows that). I went with the safe bet of her confessing her own love.

“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“You just pity me because I’m young.”

“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend.

I don't know if that's true in canon asdfsdf. She seems the type to keep things professional with the others -- she's here for judgement, this is no place for friendships. At the same time, she's the type with a big hear would definitely be kind enough to call everyone her friend... So at least for this fic, I liked the idea of her being very isolated in order to contrast how close she'd grown to Mahiru.

At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.

“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”

Amane immediately sees through the trick. She knows that Mahiru's just trying to tempt her into agreeing by framing it as Amane being a hero and saving Mahiru, instead of the other way around. At the same time, no other adult has done something like that -- when adults want her to do something, they just demand it. By offering her a gentle excuse in the first place, Mahiru sways her a bit more.

And I mean, Amane also knows how honest Mahiru is. Even though Mahiru's framing things this way for the sake of the situation, she is actually trying to make up for her murder, and Amane does want to help.

A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.

“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”

It's the most reluctant "yes" imaginable -- I suppose I can consider it for your sake -- but the important thing is it's not a "no." I couldnt picture Amane agreeing explicitly for a looong time -- maybe ever. By speaking it out loud it becomes real, but if she creeps around it with non-denials its okay...

"Of course."