#oh man thank you so much for enabling me

[mydaroga]

Follow up on the Tune In ask, Thank you for your response!! And please, never apologize for the length, it was greatly insightful. I actually haven't started on the book yet but it came highly recommended to me as The definitive Beatles biography so I was looking around to see what others think of it. Most of the critical opinions I found on this site seem consistent with your criticisms especially about Lewisohn's tendency to cherry pick quotes or imposing a new context on them...

Well, that formatted weird. Sorry. Anyway, I will definitely try to give as thorough an answer as I have time for, so that may mean just a few examples. If you want a deeper dive I can recommend the Another Kind of Mind Series, Fine Tuning. I don't agree entirely with their approach, but I agree for the most part with their findings and concerns, if that makes sense. And then there's Serene's blog entry which does a more thorough examination of the way Lewisohn ... hrm, shall we say, stretches citations to mean... whatever he wants.

I don't know that I am going to be able to go into quite as much detail here as I didn't keep these good notes while reading. But I can think of a few things that stuck out to me before I listened/read these other takes. And I'm happy to keep talking about this or expand, I'm not saying I don't like doing this, just that I am not gonna ... okay I'm going to write an essay? But I won't be as meticulous as I should be.

The first thing that made me stop reading and just go track down what was actually going on was a passage in which Lewisohn is talking about teen Paul's resistance to getting a job, going against Jim. From Tune In:

Paul still hated anyone telling him what to do -- 'It just never occurred to me to listen to other people' -- but when Jim insisted, sometimes Paul did as bid... as John scathingly noted. He went down to the Labour Exchange and Renshaw Hall and landed a £10-a-week Christmas-period job with SPD Ltd, Speedy Prompt Deliveries.

Now, all on its own without context this is a great Paul McCartney quote because you go, "yeah that checks out." I plan on using it as a sort of Macca meme, you know? But it was soooo Paul I thought, "wait, in what context did he say that? Like, he doesn't listen ever? He's admitting he just doesn't listen to anyone?"

So weirdly, it's not actually footnoted, but I found the source. It's a 1980 interview with Tim Rice, which is entertaining in its own right because he tells the guy who co-wrote Jesus Christ Superstar and Evita and later The Lion King that, you know, musicals are boring. Anyway, not the point.

It took me awhile to find the actual quote, because it's really a throwaway, almost self-deprecating aside, in the context of how he's listening to people more now because he's realized too many smart people just talk and it might be good to listen some.

So okay. Paul did say that, and he's admitting there was a time he didn't take the time to listen, but he's doing it in a sort of jokey way. I guess it's fair to say, generally, sure, Paul has a tendency to be headstrong and go his own way and that certainly would have been a factor in his psychological battle with Jim Mac over going to get his teaching license or whatever. It's not like Lewisohn is bending the facts of anything. It's not really a big deal. But it was the moment that clued me in that he's not necessarily using like for like. There's plenty of quotes about how Paul felt about this time in his life without using a joke from 1980 to shore up your point about his resistance to dad, in a paragraph that implies he's saying it about his resistance to dad. And when you've decide that "it just never occurred to me to listen to other people" can mean "and that's why he didn't listen to Jim about work, except this time he did," I don't know. It leaves a funny taste in my mouth because then you could use it for anything Paul decides to do differently. If that makes sense. If it applies there, it applies to anything Paul does. And Paul obviously didn't mean that in 1980.

Also maybe this is more nuanced, but while "Paul still hated anyone telling him what to do" is a true statement in any time in his life, that quote itself? Is neither necessarily relevant to being told what to do or very revealing. It actually is entirely unnecessary. The passage would be completely benign and throw me no red flags without it.

Like any of the points I make or, frankly, I've heard others make, it's less that he's saying untrue things and more that by using these citations in ways that remove them from context and add them to a different context, he is painting a picture but passing it off as fact. In addition, he often will use a quote from John's angry, Lennon Remembers period to interpret Paul's motives in the early 60s, rather than using, oh I dunno, a quote from.... Paul? Or a nicer quote from John when he's contradicted himself again? Again it's all legit sourcing and citing! But the contextualizing creates something he's selling as free of interpretation which is anything but.

The other one I've been thinking about is laid out quite well in I think episode 3 of the AKOM pod, and it's about Paul's creative development. While John's is described as original and a free spirit and rebellious in his artistic ambitions--which he was--Paul's artistic endeavors almost always come with a weasel word or caveat. What I mean is, John is always described as inventive; Paul is a gifted mimic. This despite a lot of attention paid to how John was basically copying his favorite cartoonists and artists--he even says at some point everything he does is Just William and Lewis Carroll. But somehow when he does it, it's extraordinary. He's got his own voice, while Paul is a talented parrot. Lewisohn gives props to all of Paul's many accomplishments but there's always either some kind of adjective like that to take away from it or this thing that creeps in where everything Paul does is for show. There are numerous places in Tune In where Paul is ostentatiously reading difficult books so he can be seen reading them. Anytime he's trying something new or going to explore a new art form or theater experience, Lewisohn has to point out that he wants to be seen to be doing something clever. When he writes songs, Lewisohn points out that he's not just writing songs, he's thinking about the image of being a writer or something like that. It's never because he's artistic, or likes the thing. He needs to be seen as someone liking the thing.

Now, we do have a quote from Paul about this. He does mention thinking about the image of a poet with the pipe and the leather patches, and he does at one point get a pipe and you know, famously pretend to be French to try to pull birds. (He does this again on that little week off he takes in France, years later, reminiscing about imagining he's a novelist in a cafe.) It's not that I'm saying Paul isn't capable of being pretentious! (I still have the beret I insisted on getting for my birthday when I was 16. I'm not immune. I still look great in it.) But Paul's, again, self-deprecating description of himself as a goofy teen appears to be the only 'proof' Lewisohn has that his reading, his art, his going to shows alone no one else cares about, is a pretense.

Again. It's not a huge deal and it's not like Paul didn't factually do all of this. It's that in a text that he's insisted in the front matter is free of speculation, Lewisohn's included numerous interpretations of Paul's (and others') motives without any direct proof/citation for those interpretations. That, I'm afraid, is speculative. And that's fine for an author to engage in--but he needs to be clear about it.

For the record he does this with John, too. He interprets numerous, sometimes almost contradictory actions of John's as "evidence" of his ability to lead. Sometimes he's like, in front and sometimes he's doing nothing and Lewisohn will conclude this was John also leading.

The point of all this isn't, like I said in my original post, that I think any one of these things is that bad. Paul's kinda pretentious? Maybe sometimes he did like to be seen reading War and Peace or whatever? Maybe John sitting back and watching what his mates are going to do is leadership? The problem, for me, is that it's not presented in a way that meets the premise of Lewisohn's introduction, which promises a work free of the prejudices and unsubstantiated speculation of his forebears. And I really do think that Lewisohn has convinced himself that he's done enough research and been a keen enough "Paul watcher" that it no longer counts as interpretation. I fear he may actually believe that he's done the math.

Again, I think you should read it. I loved the attention to detail and you'll get a lot out of it. But just be aware of this tendency, which I no longer think I'm imagining. And these are just the first two things I thought of and wanted to rant about.

[springcatalyst]

🖊 for any milo and/or reiji details they fascinate me ^-^

YES thank u they live in my brain

Let me go on a tangent before I even get to what this ask actually is cause why wouldn’t I- Milo and Reiji are interesting characters to compare to each other, because despite their entwined storylines, I don’t draw a lot of connections between them as they were designed.  Characters that never interact are fun to draw conclusions with because it’s more obscure out-of-universe things:  Julian and Milo are so different but they follow very similar paths and come from very similar places.  Milo and Brooke (actually they do interact but only like, once) both deal with the results of a corrupted worldview that once questioned, can’t be ignored once again.  Reiji and Diana share an inherently wary, bleak outlook on how the world functions as a result of their own experiences.  And characters that do interact but were designed that way are... designed that way.  Julian and Liliana are the same stuff poured into different molds, impossibly similar and impossibly different, and that drives everything about their relationship- they’re foils.  Diana and Julian start at the same place in the same situation, (for different reasons), and end up wildly different people in opposite directions- they are diverging paths evidenced by truth or lies. 

But Milo and Reiji aren’t connected by anything inherent or anything unchangeable.  Their meeting in the first place is mostly chance and a little bit of give and take of compassion.  They stick together because the alternative is being alone in a world that’s so much bigger than both of them, so much older, and just a little bit more broken.  Their relationship is a choice in a way that really isn’t the case for a lot of other characters. 

And I mean, they do have parallels, but they seem different somehow, because they actually apply in-universe.  They reflect off each other.  They both leave something behind that they wish they could get back: but while Reiji’s was taken from him by circumstance and chance, Milo’s was a culmination of something grown that eventually he had to choose to abandon, though if there was any other way, he would have taken it.  (He tried, before.  It didn’t work.) 

But now they’re both missing something, and with it, their place.  Reiji doesn’t know where he belongs and the truth is that he doesn’t belong anywhere.  He can’t return to the one place he did- (it wasn’t a place, but a people.  They’re long gone, even as they live) -and now he searches aimlessly for someplace he can return to.  He doesn’t find one.  Milo loses everything he’s ever known when he walks away, and even as he makes the decision to, it feels like the admission of some crime (it looks that way to them, and he knows it).  He longs for the community he lost, but even if he gets something close to it, it’s wrong, because it isn’t them, and because the reason he left still follows him. 

They’re both ghosts wandering a vast expanse of unknown.  There is exploration in it- Milo especially does genuinely love the places he passes through, the people he meets briefly, the idiosyncrasies of each town, city, village.  Reiji less so- he’s only ever known the wandering, so it isn’t as special to him.  He’s always looking for something that will change, but even so, traveling with Milo forces him to see things he wouldn’t otherwise. 

The difference between them is that Milo stops being a ghost.  As time goes on, less and less is searching and more and more is exploring.  More is fixed than is broken.  But the opposite is true for Reiji.  As he finds nothing it feels more and more like he is one of very, very few.  That he has found no place to exist because there is no place for him, for those like him.  Reiji is looking for answers in an environment that buried most of them, in a world that hunts the rest.  And it becomes this obsession- a thousand whys. 

Why didn’t his flock look for him?  Why did he even survive?  Why is he hunted?  Why did it start and why won’t it change?  Why is the world sitting on the ashes of an older one?  Why are people broken by something they don’t remember?  Why does every place he goes scream that there used to be more?  Why are his people a part of it?  Why are they here?  Why do they occupy a world that is so clearly not made for them?  Why does he not know where they are made for? 

Reiji asks a thousand whys and they can all be summarized by one what: What happened?

Milo and Reiji cross incomprehensible distances and in the time that takes, a lot changes.  Milo goes from being a ghost of who he was and who he should be to being alive in a way he wasn’t before, genuine in a way he didn’t allow.  Milo looks for an answer in a different way than Reiji, because he is looking for certainty.  He wants someone to tell him, with no room for error, what is true and what is corrupt.  He wants surety and permanence in a way that just doesn’t exist, and so instead must choose which side he’s on- he must decide what to believe, because nobody can tell him black and white.  With that choice becomes an acknowledgement that the world isn’t as simple as good and evil, and the two can very much coexist, that perfect and unredeemable don’t really exist, not here, anyway.  He’s allowed to just be.  Reiji, though, doesn’t get the opportunity to make that choice, to take that answer.  He isn’t looking for the answer to a moral question or a cosmic should.  He is looking for a reason, which is an order of magnitude more impossible to find.  He looks to the past for why and the nature of time is that he keeps getting further and further from it.  He finds very little, which only makes him look harder, which makes it worse when he finds even less.  He starts down an impossible spiral that he can’t get out of until he finds what he wants, but what he wants just doesn’t exist in the way he needs. 

[catcze]

Hiii catte, just wanted to appreciate your work towards the whoreslay nation I EAT UP everything you put out.

Hmmmm as for wrio thoughts, maybe him making pink coloured tea after finding out it’s your favourite colour 😏 better yet, a pink themed tea party.

(yes I am encouraging you to write something self-indulgent because the yoinking accessories off your person fic has been rotting in my brain despite my irl aesthetic being like wrio. I just think it’s cute :])

Take care and have a lovely day/evening/night✨

anon i literally love youuu thank you for enabling me to be self indulgent tee hee ♡ take care too baby !!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

It's something so offhanded— you hadn't expected him to give it much importance.

"Something wrong with the tea?" Wriothesley asks one afternoon, brows furrowing when he notices that you had yet to take a sip of your teacup. Instead, you had been staring at your drink for quite some time, lost in thought.

His question startles you out of whatever thoughts you were having, though. "What? Oh— no no, nothing like that. It's just... the color's really pretty," you tell him bashfully, a small smile on your face.

Wriothesley looks down at his own cup in thought. To him it's just... pink? It tasted good, don't get him wrong. Sweeter than some of the other teas he had served before, thanks to the dries strawberries and raspberries that had been infused into the tea. But he didn't realize that it was something you found particularly entrancing.

That one instance with the tea makes him notice something afterwards: you always had something pink on your person. Whether that be a charm, an accessory, a piece of clothing, or if your whole outfit was just the color pink. Even the color of some of the foods you eat— cakes with pink berry cream, milk colored pink with strawberries, you name it. If there's food with anything pink on it, chances are you're going to try it. Wriothesley honestly wonders how he doesn't realize it sooner.

When you walk up the stairs to Wriothesley's office, you're expecting it to be just any other afternoon tea session with him. Maybe, if he wants to spice things, he got his hands on a foreign blend that he wants you to taste. Maybe he brought some cakes and crepes from a new bakery in the city.

What you are not expecting, however, is for his dark and relatively industrial-looking office to be covered head to toe in pink.

All you can do is gape, mouth open as you try to take in the barrage of pastel pinks, creams, and whites that decorate the whole space. Even Wriothesley himself, who meets you at the landing of the staircase, has donned a little bit of pink against his otherwise black outfit— one of your pink neck ties replaces his usual red, and a heart shaped earring dangles from his ear, both obviously pilfered from your collection.

"What—" you can't help but giggle, giddy and overcome with wonder. "What is this?"

"Nothing special," your boyfriend says humbly, even though what he did means the world to you. "Just wanted to do something nice for you, is all. You really seem to like the color pink, so I thought to myself... giving you a pink tea party is definitely something I can do."

You can feel your heart swell, choking up because damn you love this man so much, and he loves you even more. You can't bring yourself to say anything, can't even will away the tears gathering in your eyes because you're so touched by this sweet, sweet man and all the love he's handed to you on a silver platter. You sniff, and you can already feel the waterworks coming.

Wriothesley panics when he sees the way your lip wobbles and the way your eyes shine with tears. He grimaces, hands immediately going to your arms to hold you and pull you close. And if anything, that just makes you cry even more.

"What's wrong, baby?" he murmurs into your hair, hand petting your back in an attempt to soothe you. You just hiccup, burying into his warm chest even further, neither of you caring about how you're getting tears on his shirt.

You cry for a bit more and Wriothesley lets you, cooing into your ear. He hugs you close, kisses your forehead, and runs his hands through the ends of your hair, carefully undoing any tangles. And when the tears die down, you pull away from his chest with a small sniff, just enough to be able to look at his face.

"All done?" He asks, and you nod, rubbing the tears from your eyes. No doubt you look like a mess— bitten lips, tear stains, swollen eyes and messy hair, but Wriothesley still looks at you like you're the only thing in this world worth looking at.

"Sorry," you begin, voice hoarse, "I- I just really love this—" you cast a glance around the room, eyes tearing up again, but you try your best not to cry this time. "And I just really love you. So, so, so much. You make me so happy," you tell him, leaning close and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Wriothesley's heart races. His face flushes and his hands shake and gods he can feel an itch in his eyes that he does his best to tamp down, because no doubt if he started crying, so would you, and the tea he worked so hard to prepare would go cold, and he can't have that. So he inhales deeply, wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb, and leads you by the hand to the pink table where your pink tea party awaits.

"I love you too, sweetheart," He murmurs, sitting across from you, still holding your hand over the table. "Forever and always."

[grimm-writings]

on my hands and knees begging you to write that legally blonde idea… obsessed with the idea of reader thinking chil wants to get back w his ex vs chil just wanting to be friends and crushing hard on reader

take it like a man!

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is into fashion

…wc! 2294

…notes! chilchuck tims and emmett forrest are the same to me (my type). this is so incredibly self indulgent thank you for enabling me anon.  a lot of dialogue is paraphrased from the song/show, such is the way of songfics. enjoy!

Oh, how Chilchuck wished he could say no to you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from you and Marcille’s ‘sweep your wife off her feet operation’, otherwise shortened to SYWOHF which Chilchuck pointed out was an awful name for a campaign.  You elected to ignore him.

In actuality, he really wanted to just do this his own way.  What he had in mind was just to pay a visit and talk things through.  As those with a little womanly touch, you and Marcille knew that wouldn’t be enough.  Chilchuck had to prove he was serious about this – that he really wanted his wife back in his life!

Seeing how excited you were showing off your step by step plan… he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he really just wanted to remain friends with her.

So, here he is.  Having his eyes covered by your hands as you guide him through the busy streets of… who knows where.

“Almost there,” your breathless though excited voice reaches his ears, “I promise!”

You finally slow to a stop, and Chilchuck also gets the chance to speak about his thoughts on this.  Simply being, “this is pointless.  We don’t need to be doing all this.”

Scoffing, you fold your arms.  “Don’t be like that!  A conversation isn’t the only way to win her over.”

“No,” Chilchuck starts, “but it would sure make me look desperate!”  He swats your hands off and away from his face.  His back is turned away from the building you’re arguing outside of, not even bothering to see what you’re doing.

You frown.  Chilchuck doesn’t easily get so frustrated with you.  That’s what people usually say – if anyone can convince him to do anything, it’d be you.  “Chil,” you try to appeal.  You even try physically reaching out, hand hovering over his shoulder.  “Work with me here.  We can do this in a way that will prove yourself, and let her know you’ve changed.  For the better.”

Chilchuck listens to you, sparing you a sidelong glance as you go on with your speech.  “You make it sound like we’re in some romance novel.  This isn’t ‘for the better’ I just want to talk to her.”

“No you don’t, you want her back in your life!”

“Well…!”  Chilchuck stutters at how blunt your words are.  You are way too observant for your own good.  He never knows how to talk to you cooly when you do this.  “Well, of course I do!  And I can do that by slowly building up trust between us again, without rushing anyone.”

Where Chilchuck expects begging to follow through with your scheme, you simply look at him with a cold expression– colder than he’s ever seen you wear.  “So you have the chance to run away again if things get too much?  Sacrificing your integrity?”

You’re both lucky this little nook in the streets was away from most crowds.  Save for the passersby' conversations, the silence would have been strife with weight.  Chilchuck opens his mouth, then closes it again.  He repeats the action, and tries to use his hands to communicate his thoughts to no avail.

He settles for turning away from you in angered shame, fists balled at his sides and tips of his ears growing red.  “...I guess.”

You smile, knowing you have swayed the half-foot to your side.  Even in the dungeon, your debates went this way.  Chilchuck would present a cynical, logical approach whilst you were more realistic – something your appearance doesn’t really match with.  Chilchuck thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not like he’d say that to your face.

Hearing your confident hum, Chilchuck sighs and turns back to you.  “Why do you always have to be right?”  He complains about this constantly.  You always seem to one-up him in ways he can never prepare for.

“I don’t have to be,” your attitude and voice returns to its usual, jovial form, “when I’m with you, I just am!”

You reach over to Chilchuck once more right as he’s about to make a scathing comment back at you.  His face is a bit too close for comfort with a wooden door, an entrance somewhere.

“You trust me to help you impress your wife, don’t you?”  You ask, with a clear sense of finality.

Chilchuck doesn’t think he has much of a choice in the matter.  “...Of course,” he responds honestly but you can hear his voice waver.

He can practically sense your smile from behind.  “Then don’t stop now.”

You wish you could say without a spot of bias that you were 100% supporting the operation at hand.  In actuality, it came with a heavy sacrifice of your own feelings remaining unsaid.  Of course you just had to fall for the semi-married man.  You have already tried to move on, from distracting yourself with an operation like this, to asking Izutsumi to pummel your head with a rock (which she was very close to doing).

This will have to do.

It was like magic, how the environment of the building interior rushes through you.  Chilchuck even feels it, his large eyes blinking as he drinks in the sight.

“...Where are we?” he asks, almost dreamily.  A beautiful ceiling lamp shines onto coloured wallpaper.  The scent reminds him of the kind of perfume Marcille would use.  It’s strangely… alluring.

You lean your face over Chilchuck’s shoulder.  “Oh, nothing much.  Just the most trendy half-foot exclusive clothing store in Kahka Brud.”  You can easily sense Chilchuck’s shock from this position – amusing you greatly.  “Here.”

You stand up behind Chilchuck again, massaging his shoulders.  “Just take a deep breath, and let it sink in.  We’ll be here for a bit so get used to the smells and lights.  Feel how it draws you in.”

“I’m feelin’ it alright,” Chilchuck responds, moreso about how he has no idea what convinces people to remain in these environments for so long without feeling overstimulated.

He already feels hot with how you’re handling him.

You move around so you’re in front of Chilchuck.  “Listen, I know this can be… overwhelming,” you start, giving the understatement of the century, “but think about who you’re doing this for.  Swallow your pride and… pick out anything you think is nice.  I’ll do the same.”

Chilchuck nods, about to set off, but not before you take his face, squishing his cheeks a comedic amount so he’s forced to pout and look you in the eye.

“Promise me you won’t run.  Take it like a man, alright?”

You let him go, and Chilchuck swears the heat on his body is from the stuffy maze of clothes stalls.  As he navigates the first selection of half-foot men’s clothes he sees, he tries to ignore the thoughts that seem to non-stop course through his brain.

He’s largely unsuccessful.

What are you getting out of this?  Some sort of second-hand pride at bringing together two estranged lovers?  Wait ‘til you find out the truth – that those aren’t where his true feelings lie.  Why can’t you leave well enough alone?

Why does he let you string him along with every plan you come up with?

You arrive back with a couple of blazer–pants combos, calling out Chilchuck’s name as you do so.  Damn, you sure are speeding through the process.

“So, I took the liberty of picking some of the more fancy kinds of suits.”  You hold them up in your arms.  “Whaddya think?”

“Suits,” Chilchuck repeats dryly, in disbelief of how far you’re taking the idea of impressing a woman.  He looks through each of the three upon seeing your determined expression.

He points at the pale pink option.  “Absolutely not.”

He gestures to the navy one with a thinner fabric.  “I like this one.”

Finally, he only spares at a glance at the creatively patterned suit.  “I think I’d sooner be fed to wargs than be seen in that.”

You assemble each of the selections in order of preference.  You muse, “I see, I see…  Something refined but masculine.  Much better than your ‘tattered chic’ look.  Like an old book forever trapped in a library.”

Chilchuck furrows his brow as you run off again.  “Wh– What’s that supposed to mean, jerk?!”

He sighs.  He watches you as you make a few more choices again, before Chilchuck tries to distract himself looking at ties.  He’s come this far.  He should trust in your instinct.  It hasn’t failed him– or anyone yet.

So what the Hell?

Before Chilchuck knows it, he’s handed the acutely sized down, perfect combination of blazer and pants, and he’s stuffed inside a changing room.  He’s instructed to change into the whole thing.

As he does so, you can’t help but pace.  This is it.  This is the winning goal to help him impress his old flame.  It’ll be like an academy romance – falling in love all over again like you’re teenagers.  You sigh longingly.  If only you can be there, in her place.

“You’re gonna look great!”  You converse with Chilchuck through the curtain.  “You’ll become a whole new man, promise!  You’ll bloom like a rose!”

“It’s just clothes,” Chilchuck, in his usual cynicism, calls back.

You return with a raspberry.  “Don’t be such a Debbie-downer.”

“Wow.  No one’s called me that since grade school.”

“Maybe not to your face.”

Even without looking at him, you can imagine the scoff and eye roll he must be giving you, interrupted by a small choke on his own spit.  “Is this the price?”

“Ignore that!” You quickly respond.  “It’s my treat!  Come out, come out, I wanna see you!”

Better to gloss over the fact you worked hard to do this for Chilchuck with a high budget.  No doubt he’d tease you or outright refuse it.  You open the curtain and pull Chilchuck out by his arm.  He quickly adjusts himself and you both stand in front of the wall length mirror.

“...Woah.”

It’s said naturally in sync.  Both of you hardly recognise the brunette half-foot in the form fitting suit and tie.  With a bit of hair maintenance and more time to actually make himself look presentable… 

“I look like Laios on a good day,” Chilchuck jokes.

Your breath caught in your throat, you can only let out, “y-yeah.”

You pray he doesn’t notice how enthralled you are in his appearance, if slightly ungroomed.

Once the moment passes, Chilchuck makes himself comfortable by loosening his tie and undoing a button or two, then putting his arms where they usually are behind his neck.  “But it’s just me.”

Without hesitation, you find yourself speaking without meaning to.  “Is that not the best part?”

Chilchuck looks at you in confusion.  “What?”

“I-I mean…” you trail off.  You look nervous.  That’s rare for you.  Usually you always had something to say.  Now you look like you’re trying to figure out how to word something in a specific way.  Why?

You move behind Chilchuck to smooth down some of his hair.  “You may look more charming but… this is all you.  Your choices, your style…  It reflects who you are on the inside.  That’s the magic of fashion.”

Chilchuck laughs a little, mostly at his own cluelessness.  He can’t believe he’s underestimated a simple shopping trip.  “Thank you,” he says, with complete sincerity.

“No.”  You shake your head.  “This is not a gift.  I’m just… This is me thanking you for how you let me get away with so much.”

Your hands land on his shoulders, and Chilchuck’s fingers find their way to interlace with yours.  For just a few more moments, you look at yourselves in the mirror.

Catching yourself, you step away from the situation – from him.  “Well?  Come on, you need to buy this.  I’d want to marry you if you took me out looking like this!”

The half-foot flushes red.  You got to know what you’re doing to him.  “That’s not really—”

“Chilchuck.  Please.”  You place your hands on your hips, looking dead serious.  “You look hot.”

…Well, he can’t argue with you.  If you really think that, then who is he to deny it?

“Fine.  I’ll get it.”

You smile that cocky grin Chilchuck has grown to love.  “That’s our man.”

Leaving the shop was like a breath of fresh, unperfumed air.  Chilchuck would nearly fall to his knees and start kissing the ground if he paid too much attention to how his legs ached.  The post shopping trip fatigue is really hitting him.

“I enjoyed this,” he however admits.  “Maybe women are onto something when it comes to clothes.”

“That’s why you should always listen to whenever a woman is speaking,” you wisely advise, making Chilchuck nod with a slight snort.

He stops at a crossroads, where you go back to his place, and he goes back to his.  “You can trust that I will now.”

“Good.”  You sigh in relief knowing your venture was successful.  Maybe too successful, because now you may lose him.

Chilchuck keeps looking at you with affection.  You can’t say you haven’t noticed how he keeps sparing you glances, mostly throughout the shopping trip.  Maybe he has warmed up to you?

Still, neither of you can stop yourselves at this point.

You approach, and for a hopeful second, Chilchuck tilts his head a bit to the left, eyelids lowering and leaning into you.  Your arms wrap around his middle.

Your face nuzzles into his neck as you hug the man tight.  Chilchuck is still for a few seconds.  A hug.  Right.  Of course you’d want a hug…  He responds in kind.

“See you soon, Chil. I wish you luck.”

“Y-Yeah.  Luck with the lady.”

Your happiness comes with a heavy sacrifice of Chilchuck’s feelings remaining unsaid.

He’ll take it like a man.

[highonmarvel]

Hi there! May i please request a mob!steve x reader where the reader used to be with him but when she found about his mob life she left him so like the HR he decided to ruin her life and one day he just shows up in her now downgraded apartment and manipulates and gaslights her into coming back to him, and she just goes back because she’s just in a vulnerable place

Feel free to add your own spin to it btw love your work soo much! Especially the biker!bucky 🤗

oh, i like this! and thank you so much for the love! i hope you enjoy. and i apologise for taking over a month to get back to you, shit’s been wild for me. okay, here we go:

Easy Luxury

Steve Rogers: You find out how your suspiciously wealthy boyfriend makes his money, and have to start over without it.

content warnings here!

It was never manipulation, it was a deep understanding that enabled him to know what you needed before you even opened your mouth, a symptom of being the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy next door type. Naturally, he knows what’s best for you, you’d never have to question him. And you didn’t.

Steve was suspiciously wealthy for such a humble and down-to-Earth guy, but you didn’t question it; his expensive car, his shiny watch, his high rise penthouse, his seemingly endless cash, you didn’t read too much into it, you just enjoyed his presence, and his luxury didn’t hurt either; anything you wanted, and things you didn’t, Steve gave to you, and you accepted gratefully. He even insisted you live closer to him until he didn’t have so many people coming in and out of his apartment for something he never quite explained, and then you could move in with him. You live in a nice ass building a block down from him, making for easy visits, curtesy Steve.

You sigh as you place your bag down in the lift on the way up to the top floor, excited to surprise Steve. You had head to see your parents for what was supposed to be two weeks, but after just one you’d had enough, and you missed Steve.

You excitedly bounce on your toes as you pick your bag up again, the elevator numbers just a few ticks from the top. With a wide grin, you stare straight ahead as the the doors open, and that smile immediately drops.

Right in the middle of your living room, Steve is ripping the teeth out of a guy tied to a chair. Even the back of his shirt is bloodied, and there’s so much blood on the floor you have to assume there have been many other people in this man’s position in the time you’ve been away.

“You fucking rat,” he grunts as he pries the man’s mouth open again and sticks an adjustable wrench into the back of his cheek. It clasps onto one of his wisdom teeth and Steve pries it out, and you can tell he’s satisfied despite his back facing you. The man lets out a bloodcurdling scream and Steve tosses the tooth onto a pile of at least five others.

“Workin’ for the Starks, huh?”

The Starks are a well known mob family in New York, and if they’re Steve’s rivals then…

You gasp out loud.

Steve whips around, and his face, though covered almost entirely in crimson, goes pale.

“Baby! You’re back early.”

You finger flies to the close button for the doors, pressing furiously as if that’s gonna make it happen faster. Steve races towards you, calling your name as you anxiously push the button at lightning speed. At the very last split second, just before Steve can stick his hand between the doors, they shut, and the lift begins to descend. You hear Steve’s frustrated “Fuck!” and banging above you as your stomach sinks with the elevator.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what can you do? Steve had convinced you to quit your job, you pretty much lived exclusively off of him, but you can’t possibly stay with him, yet you’re rendering yourself homeless if you leave.

Once you get to the ground floor, you race out the door, leaving your bag behind and ignoring a concerned look from the doorman as you dart out. You phone buzzes in your pocket, and you know it’s Steve. You ignore the vibrating phone call and run towards your apartment. You’re sure you have some money cobbled together from Christmas cards over the years. No way in hell you can pack your things, and you know you’ll have to get rid of your phone, but you need at least a little bit of cash.

You’re sure you’re on the verge of dying from a lack of oxygen as you make it to your apartment and slam the door behind you, locking it, too, though you doubt that’ll keep him out.

You’re furiously rummaging through drawers when a gentle rap at the door makes your soul damn near leap out of your body.

“Honey?” Steve calls, voice calm as ever, as if he didn’t just commit such unspeakable violence, and who knows what fucking else he’s done that you’ve never seen? And how did he get here so quick? Is he still covered in blood and spit and flesh and evidence from his torture?

You try to tune him out as you look for the last of the envelopes to add to your small pile, but you can’t ignore his gentle voice trying to coax you into a state of relaxation he would soothe you into when your anxiety became too much to bare.

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.”

“Go away!” you manage to shriek through hyperventilation.

“Don’t do something stupid,” he warns, voice low in a way you’ve never heard him use before, and if you were terrified before, you were on the verge of a heart attack now.

With a few envelopes and no way to escape, you run to the window and peer down; you’re three floors up with some soft patches of grass beneath you. You don’t have time to even calculate it, surely adrenaline will get you through the pain if you’re severely hurt. You’re working up the nerve, and just as Steve busts the door in, yelling your name, you jump, luckily landing on your feet, but falling soon after, and briefly wondering if you’ve dislocated your knee as you scramble to stand and start running.

Steve shouts your name from the window but you don’t even look back, just running to God knows where. You’re sure you’ve run full speed for more than half an hour when, by such luck, you stumble across a really cheap looking motel. Just as you throw some cash to the guy to give you a key, you feel around in your pockets for your phone, panicked, and for the first time in your life, you’re glad to have lost it. He can’t find you now, at least not by tracking, you hope. Though you might have expected to be plagued by insomnia due to your stress, you pass right the fuck out as soon as your head touches the crusty pillow on the room’s stained mattress.

***

The sun isn’t out when you snap your eyes open, it couldn’t have been more than six hours since you ran away, then, but there’s no sign of Steve, and you let out the biggest breath of relief there ever could be. You head to the bathroom to shower and think of your next move, but it’s so filthy you wonder if you’re only making yourself dirtier by stepping in. You’re sweaty, and your body is physically tired from the sprinting. You flop onto the floor as you try to consider your next move. You’ve got an old friend living in Queens! You haven’t spoken to her in years, literally since high school, but since then she had practically been living on her own and raising herself and her sister, you can’t imagine she’s moved since then.

You have to walk a ways before you manage to get to an area you can hail a cab, and that takes a little more effort than you would have liked to exert. By some grace you manage to remember the address, and as you pull up, the house looks pretty much the same as all those years ago, giving you a glimmer of hope.

You drag yourself to the front door and manage to knock despite your weak body.

The door opens after a few moments to reveal the red hair you haven’t seen in forever, yet still, she looks virtually the same.

“Natasha!” you say as you collapse into her arms.

“Oh my God!” she cries, but she catches you with ease, “What are you doing here? What happened?”

You can barely speak, but she seems to somewhat understand as she leads to you to her living room and gently sets you down on the couch. Her blonde sister comes running into the room, eyes wide and panicked.

“Yelena!” Natasha calls, and hurriedly says words in Russian you could never understand. Yelena leaves and returns with a cup of water, which you gratefully accept, not realising just how thirsty you actually were. You gulp down the water like a dying fish and Yelena immediately leaves to get you another.

Sitting down and not on the verge of dehydration, you can speak, but your voice is still hoarse.

“I’m sorry for dropping in like this—”

“Don���t ever apologise for coming to me,” she cuts you off sternly, nearly angrily, like she’s irritated you thought you could ever bother her. She was this way in high school, but still, you haven’t spoken in years and years, and you feel bad for that. You know she can help you, or she’ll try to do everything in her power to do so, but you can’t let her get involved in mob business… like you were, unknowingly.

“I’m just in a rough spot,” you say, nodding thanks to Yelena as you take the second cup of water and down it even quicker than you did the first one. She sits down next to you, concerned, as Natasha is seated across from you on the opposite couch, leaning forward, forearms on her thighs as she listens attentively, “Don’t have a job or a place, or anyone else I can go to. I’ve got a bit of money, can you help me find a cheap place?”

“Just stay with us,” Yelena says, sitting up straight.

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, “It’s clear there’s a lot going on, please, don’t be alone right now. You can stay here, I can help you get a job.”

Even after all this time, she treats you so beautifully, but you can’t let her get wrapped up in this; if Steve finds you, he might hurt Nat and Yelena, and you’d never be able to live with that (and maybe you won’t have to if he kills you too).

“No!” you say, a little louder than needed, causing the pair to give you strange looks, “Please,” you say, speaking softer now, “If you want to help me, can I just use your shower and you help me get a place? I know you know a lot of people.”

You can tell she wants to protest, but Nat only presses her lips into a thin line and exhales through her nostrils, nodding before standing up.

“Okay,” she concedes, “Yelena will get you some fresh clothes and I’ll make some calls.”

“Thank you,” you say, with more sincerity than you ever have in your life. Yelena helps you up, and you want to protest, but realise you’re a lot weaker than you thought, and you can’t tell if it’s mental or physical exhaustion.

You have to sit down in the shower, rinsing the stickiness off of you and watching it float in the few centimetres of water before being whisked down the drain.

You’re steadier on your feet once you’re clean and dressed, and you pop into the kitchen just as Nat hangs up her phone.

“Okay, I’ve got somewhere $95 a month, but it’s not great.”

You shake your head, “It’s perfect, thank you.” You counted around $650 in your cash, but if you get a job you can make it work.

“But you’re not leaving before you eat.”

Eating breakfast with Nat and Yelena takes the weight of the world off your shoulders, the three of you laughing about events from a decade ago with the same vigour you did when they first happened. But you can’t shake the feeling you have to leave, quick.

You’re nearly done helping the pair clean up when Nat comes up to you.

“Hey, what’s your number? We should stay in touch, even if just for a few months, just so I know you’re okay.”

“I lost my phone,” you sigh.

“I’m drop in every once in a while then, okay? And you can’t fight me on this. I’m honestly really worried about you,” she throws her dish rag over a chair and walks up to you, holding your shoulders as she looks into your eyes, “But I’m so glad you came. I’m always here for you. So is Yelena.”

You look to the doorway Yelena’s leaning against and she gives you a smile, but it’s a little sad.

“Thank you, Nat. I love you, so much. And I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“These things happen, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re in one piece. Looks like you had a hell of a night.”

You laugh shakily and nod, “I did. I’m surprised I didn’t dislocate a knee.”

“Oh my God… okay, conversation for another time, let’s just get you into your place. Do you have anything we need to take?”

You literally have no earthly possession with you at this point besides the envelopes, which you tuck into the inner pockets of Nat’s biker jacket she’s lending you. You refused to take any clothes other than one other pair of pants and a t-shirt, but Yelena promised she’d wash your others and bring them back, though you’re not even sure you want them anymore.

“I’ll be back with them tomorrow,” she says as she closes the door, leaving you alone in a flat you’re sure has mould.

There’s only a couch, a mattress, and a clock you’re not sure if displays the correct time, which is more than you were expecting. You flop down onto the slightly dirty couch and run your hands over your face. Now fed, hydrated, and somewhat rested, you can’t think of anything else to distract you from thoughts of Steve…

Okay, you’ll try to find a job tomorrow, for today, there’s nothing more you can do but try to sleep, even though it’s not even midday yet.

***

As promised, Yelena drops off your clothes the next morning, with the tears poorly sewn up, but you thank her for the effort and encourage her to leave the building before you do, in case Steve is watching, but you don’t cite that reason.

Half an hour later, you stride out, taking a walk down the dodgy streets, and luckily, you come across a bakery with an “URGENTLY HIRING” sign in the window. Your little streaks of luck would mean much more if it wasn’t overshadowed by everything else, and your luck ends when you’re half way into the interview.

“What?!” you gasp, trying to lean over to get a better look at the computer screen the interviewer (who’s just some teenager, probably a temp) is trying to shield from you.

“Ma’am, you have a charge for robbery, we can’t hire you.”

You exit in a daze, nearly numb at the realisation Steve would go this far. Why not just kill you? If he was worried you’d go to the police (the thought had never even crossed your mind until this moment), he’d just fucking kill you, or kidnap and torture you, he wouldn’t just leave you to rot out in the real world, that’s too risky.

You sadly make your way back to your flat, and who’s there when you open the door?

Steve stands with a crisp blue shirt in the centre of the room, and what can you do about it.

You fall to your knees and sob, face in your hands as you try to take in your fate. What did he want with you? You want to say you swear you’ll never tell anyone, that you haven’t told anyone, but you can’t speak through your gasping sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, slowly making his way over to you, like he’s worried he’ll scare you off, “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’d never hurt you, baby, you weren’t supposed to see that, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I didn’t want to hurt you, ever, but I have.”

He sighs, and you manage to look back up at him, a somber coat over his blue eyes.

“And look at you,” he gently raises your arm to trace a finger over scrapes and scratches you guess are from darting through narrow alleyways and through thick bushes, “Baby, and look at his,” he gestures around him to the damp flat, and you sniffle, “You can’t stay here, come back, I’ll take care of you, like I always have.”

“Th- the arrest—”

“I had to do that, baby, I’m sorry. I just had to. If you were with me that never would have happened, see? And it can all go away. Honey, I’m offering you the world, all you have to do is come with me.”

With teary eyes you look around. You can’t live here too long or you’ll get some kind of mould poisoning, you can’t get a job, you can’t endanger Nat and Yelena…

“Okay,” you sigh, defeated, and just as Steve starts to smile, there’s a knock at the door. Natasha calls your name and you tense up, Steve looks down at you with his head cocked to the side.

“I think you better answer that, sweetheart. Tell her you’re not gonna be here anymore.”

He pulls you to your feet and you gulp as you lean your head against the door.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Let me in.”

If Steve sees Nat, he’ll know who to look for if you try anything like this again. But he’s sitting patiently on the couch, and he nods towards the door, beckoning you to open it. You take a deep breath and crack it open a bit.

“Hey, what’s up?” you think you say, but you can barely hear your words over the pounding of your heart.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and you shoot a glance behind you, which you immediately regret when Nat bounces on her toes to get a look.

“Yeah,” you block her vision and bring her attention back to you, still trying to keep the door as close to closed as possible, “I… I have to go…”

“What?” she asks, “You just got here, what’s changed?”

“Things have worked out, it’s all good now, don’t worry—”

You freeze as you feel Steve behind you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you and Nat. You shut your eyes, willing this to be a trick of light or a hallucination due to stress, it can be anything but real.

“Hi. Steve Rogers,” he extends his hand, and Nat tentatively takes it, in only a way you know — to everyone else, she wouldn’t seem cautious, but you saw the clench in her right knee that gives away her switch to defence.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

Fuck, Nat, why did you say your name!?

“Nice to meet you. Don’t worry about her, she’s in good hands with me.”

She nods.

“Steve, could you go get my clothes for me? I think they’re in the bathroom or the bedroom, they’re the only two other rooms.”

He nods and turns away. Once he’s out of sight, Nat’s expression turns panicked as she scans your face, noticing tears welling. She doesn’t say it, but you can tell she’s pleading “Come with me.” You shake your head and quickly wipe away the tears before they fall, just as you hear Steve’s approaching footsteps again.

You shut the door just as he exits the bedroom with your neatly folded clothes from your recent run.

“Natasha washed these, I assume? Or was it Yelena?”

⍟

[taglist; @cjand10]

[bluespiritshonour]

First of all I’m such a big fan of your art and writing. If you would be down (and I know your super busy xD) I’d love to see your take on Maiko wedding art (pic for reference)!

Thank you so much😊

Hi! I saw your ask and my brain went BRRRRRRR!

Because, well, FASHION!!! So, before we get to the real deal—I just fucked around and here's some self-indulgent Mai sketches! Hehe.

She looks more like canon Mai without the makeup. (I coloured her eyes in the same layer, please ignore ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙)

So, Fire Nation wedding dresses are white. What Ta Min is wearing here and what Ursa wore in the comics. I imagine Mai would sooner slit her throat with her own dagger. LOL. So, red it was. FN has heavy emphasis on the colour red. It's considered an auspicious colour in Chinese culture and I've seen traditional Chinese wedding dresses are predominantly red. (Please free to correct me if I'm wrong!)

Also, Mai has worn red without any hesitation in canon.

Sorry, I didn't do the Roku/Ta Min one that you asked for—for some reason I couldn't.

Pose inspiration for this one are Gomez and Morticia. I know Maiko is like the Addamses only aesthetically—but they were both traumatised kids; I don't see why they can't be like the Addamses when they're both grown up and adults and healed somewhat.

Plus, all that PDA? Definitely Addams family vibes.

And oh! I drew such glorious eyebrows for Mai but alas, her bangs came in the way 🥹

But I absolutely have to share it!

Aren't those eyebrows glorious? [sigh]

Anyways! Thanks for enabling me.

P.S: my full-updo Zuko propaganda is raging full force. That man has to have long hair and he has to put it all up!!!!

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 19, Unfriended - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, heartache, bag of dicks.

Word Count: 848

Previously On...: That fucking fuck fucking fucked the fucking fuck.

A/N: I maintain my "previously on" makes perfect sense and is completely understandable. And that's why 'fuck' is the most versatile word of all time.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You felt your resolve crumbling the closer you got to the conference room. With each step you took, your righteous anger morphed a little closer to soul-destroying sorrow.

"I just can't believe Bucky would do this to you," Wanda said as she walked alongside you. "He loves you so much. Everyone can see it."

"Apparently not enough to keep his cock out of places it doesn't belong," Nat growled.

"Natasha!" Wanda scolded. "Not helping."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not just going to sit here and pretend that this dipshit didn't just betray our best friend in the absolute worst way possible," she argued. "I will fucking kill him."

"How do you want to go forward with this, Pocket?" Wanda asked. "We'll follow whatever lead you take, right Natasha?" She cast a pointed look in Nat's direction.

You shook your head, not knowing how you were going to go forward, how you were going to keep living knowing what Bucky had done. "I don't know how to live without him," you whispered.

"You're not seriously thinking of forgiving that scumbag?" Natasha asked you, incredulous.

"No, I'm not saying that at all. It's just..." You let out a shuddering breath. "Why is this happening? What did I do?"

"Oh, honey," Wanda said, wrapping her arms around you. "You didn't do anything. He's a man and men are idiots."

“Viz an idiot, too?” you asked, managing to find the strength to give her a small smile. “Ah, but see,” Wanda said, grinning at you, “Viz isn’t a man. He’s a sentient android with anatomical male… attributes.”

That earned a chuckle from you, and Wanda beamed, pleased she’d been able to cheer you up, no matter how briefly it lasted.

Your phone buzzed in Nat's hands; you’d asked her to hold onto, afraid that you’d answer one of Bucky’s calls in a moment of weakness. "He's calling again," she said, holding the device out as though it would catch on fire. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just decline the call," you begged. "I... I can't talk to him right this second."

"No, of course not," Wanda soothed. "But sweetie, you are going to have to confront him at some point. You can't just hide from him forever. The Tower's not that big, and he’s going to be at this meeting."

You closed your eyes and tried to take a centering breath. It didn't help. "I know, trust me, I know. I just... I just don't know how to do this. I've never had my heart broken like this before. I thought he was it. I thought this was forever."

"Hey," Nat stopped in front of you, taking both your hands in her own, "you can do this. You are amazing, the smartest woman and one of the best people I know, and if Barnes can't see that, that's his fucking loss. You deserve better than someone who can't see what he had right in front of him. And if he can have his head so easily turned by Jade Fucking Carthage?" She spat the name out. "He's an idiot and they deserve each other."

You found yourself nodding along with what she was saying.

"And if you find yourself feeling down, and wanting him back," she continued, "remember that this son of a bitch fucked her TWICE on a mission while you were stuck home, puking your guts out."

As she spoke, you felt your agony seep out of you, replaced once again with white hot rage. Nat was right. Bucky Barnes was a fucking asshole. You'd already wasted the last year and a half on him and you'd be damned if you were going to waste a second more. You took the pain you felt and buried it, deep down with all the other pain life had dealt you, far below the surface where it could no longer reach you. Not the best coping mechanism, but it had gotten you through life so far. You took a deep breath.

"You're right," you said to Nat. "Fuck him. I gave him everything I had, and this is what I get in return? No. He can choke on a bag of dicks for all I care. He's dead to me."

"That's my girl!" grinned Nat.

"Pocket, are you sure that's the best way to go about this?" Wanda asked gently. "Maybe you should sit down and talk to him."

"No," you said, perhaps a little too forcefully, "he lost his chance at a conversation when he failed to tell me the truth and tried to get his skank to cover for him. I told him that I could take anything except for lies, and he did it anyway. I don't owe him shit."

The three of you finally approached the doors to the conference room. "You going to be able to do this?" Nat asked you.

"Yes. I can do this. Just..." you sighed, "just don't let him near me, okay?"

Nat and Wanda shared a look. "I think that, between the two of us, we can manage that," Nat said.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[justmeinadaze]

My Little Man (Steddie X You) (Part of HFOD and SS Universe)

A/N: I guess you guys would call this season 3? Lol. My angst hella took over as well as some feelings I've been dealing with lately.

Enjoy please <3.

Part of this Universe

Warnings: Demon Steddie & Human Fem Reader, No SMUT in this one, FLUFF, they love each other and their son. Demon Steddie is navigating how to be human while taking care of a pregnant Y/N.

ANGST: More or less the normal level of angst that comes with this series. The theme is grief and PTSD (from a soldiers perspective). Y/N is still struggling with the notion of her parents not being there to see Ellis grow up and the guys (especially Steve) is struggling with being raised how they were and taught to fight. Eddie struggles with feelings of enabling because of everything they went through.

The dreams probably have the most feels. They talk to their loved ones and Ellis says goodbye. Steve has nightmares that involve his dad being a dick (of course) and something that happens within one angers Eddie (blood briefly mentioned).

Word Count: 6398

"Don't you know I love you more than life itself Don't you know that you're my pride And I would not have you walking through this world Without me by your side

Go to sleep my little man Don't you weep my little man"

3 Months Pregnant

Steve sits on the bench outside of the library he had just exited from, sighing heavily as he closed his eyes and threw his head back.

Ever since the three of you got home, he and Eddie had been doing research on which human job they would best be suited for in your realm but were struggling to find much of anything. For him, it was even more difficult since he was raised to be a solider. He genuinely didn’t know how to do anything else and it didn’t help that even though you explained a lot of human behavior, he still felt slightly ignorant with many things. 

“May I sit?” The demon jumped at the sound of a gravelly voice beside him. “Oh, shit. Sorry, son. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s alright. Um, please.”, he gestures towards the area beside him causing the man to flash him a thankful grin as he takes a seat. 

“How long?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked how long. I know the look of a fellow veteran trying to figure out how to adapt to a civilian lifestyle. How long has it been since you saw combat?”

“Oh, uh, it’s…it’s been a few years. But I did it the bulk of my life.”

“I can imagine with you being so young. I bet one of your parents was a solider as well?”

“Wow. Yeah, that’s amazing. How did you…?”

“I told you, son. I know the look.”, the man chuckles as he extends his hand. “Truman Duvall; Ex Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army.”

“Steven Harrington. Um, Sergeant in the US Army. Well, Ex.”, Steve laughs nervously as he hopes his memory of things he’s learned about humans in the past is still up to date.

“Nice to meet you. If I may ask, what were you thinking so hard about specifically?”

“My girlfriend is pregnant and I’m trying to find a job so I can help support my family. I want my son to have a better life then I did but I have no idea where to start.”

“Congratulations on the little bundle! I have four myself, two of them grown and out of the house already. My wife pretends like she’s glad they’re out but she misses them.”, he laughs. “I don’t know if you would be willing but down the street here, we have a recreation center where veterans go to relax and let loose. They’ve been looking for a counselor to lead the group therapy. I think you’d be a good fit.”

“Yeah? Um, I guess I could…”

“Look, you don’t even have to make a decision right now. Why don’t meet me there tonight? We’re having a little party get together thing. Of course, you can bring the girlfriend and you both can meet the person in charge. See if you feel comfortable.”

“O-Ok. I, um…” Steve pauses as he debates on if he should tell the truth about Eddie. That was a fight they had when it came to going home. He had been afraid that they would have to hide their relationship and he never wanted to hide or be hidden when it came to the man he loved. But this is also where he wanted to raise his son and he didn’t want to cause a commotion before you four even had a chance to settle in. What would Eddie do?

“Can I bring my boyfriend as well? He’s a veteran to. We actually met during our tour.”

Truman’s mouth pouted out ever so slightly as his eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“Oh, um, sure! The more the merrier.”

***

“Steven, oh my God, that’s amazing!”, you exclaim as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Hang on, now. I don’t have a job yet but…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, bud.”, Eddie grins from his place on the kitchen counter. 

“I hope it’s ok that I kind of…announced…our relationship. We actually didn’t talk about what we wanted to do but I know if we had stayed in our realm I’d want to be honest.”

The long-haired demon opened his arms and Steve promptly placed himself between his legs with his back against his chest while Eddie rested his chin on his shoulder. 

“I’m glad you did. I love you and I’m not hiding that.”

“Me either.”, you smiled as they beamed right back. 

Suddenly, the happiness drains from your face before you turn and bolt towards the bathroom. You three had been home for a couple of months and within the past week some of the normal symptoms of pregnancy began springing up such as the morning sickness you were currently experiencing. 

“It’s alright, baby. Get it all out.”, Eddie tries to sooth as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail. As soon as you were finished, you fell back into his arms and thanked Steve when he handed you a bottle of water. 

“This is normal, right? Humans get nauseas like this.”, he asked. 

“Yeah, honey. It’s normal. I’m alright. I think I’m going to take a nap so I can be 100% for tonight.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to go.”

“No, Steve, I want to go. I want to see where you’ll be and the people you’ll be around.”

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

“Steve! You made it.”, Truman shouts excitedly as he reaches out to shake the boy’s hand. “You must be the girlfriend.”

“Hi. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman and this is your…boyfriend? Right, son?”

“Yes, sir. This is Edward.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Steve said you’re a veteran as well. Were you a sergeant like himself?”

“Oh, uh, no. I was more of a private I guess you’d say. But we spent a lot of time together especially on the battlefield.”

“Wow and for you two to still be so close and find a relationship through all that chaos! That’s amazing. I always tell my wife if she met me during my tour she would have hated me. A lot of civilians don’t understand the headspace you have to fall into to do what we have to do.”

Both demon’s nod in understanding and you can’t help but softly smile as you watch them interact with the other people around them. Steve was definitely in his element and you could tell in some way he felt more comfortable in this setting because he was around beings who seemed to understand what they both went through. As his new friend spoke, his eyes remained intense and focused as he absorbed everything he said. 

Eddie excused himself to grab some drinks but became distracted talking to another couple and began to laugh at something they were saying. The first time you met him he expressed a particular distain for humans but he seemed to open up more since they were freed, finding something interesting in each person he interacted with. 

“Hey, this is my girlfriend Y/N.”, he introduces when you walk over to check on him. “Y/N, this is Lisa and Shawn Bennett. Lisa did a tour in the Air Force flying jets and Shawn was a DJ overseas.”

“Oh wow. For the military or just on your own?”

“For the military. I’m kind of like that Cronauer guy they made the movie about. I read the reports and played music I thought would lift the troops spirits.”, the man explains. 

“Kind of like me.”, Eddie whispers in your ear making you smile. “What do you two do now if I may ask? Steve and I have been searching for employment but we have no idea what would fit us.”

“Well, I actually own a store of my own selling books and comics; things like that. I’m a bit of a nerd.”, Lisa laughs. 

“And I teach media and music courses at the local community college up here.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun actually. Are they looking for another music teacher because Eddie is an amazing musician.”

“Yeah? Unfortunately, they aren’t but you should consider maybe starting your own business as well. You can teach kids to play guitar or any other instruments you know and you can do it from your house or maybe the music store downtown is hiring.”

“Are you looking for a job to, Y/N? I’m trying to hire someone to help me with my shop.”, Lisa offers with a smile. 

“Oh, I’d love that. I’m, uh, I’m actually pregnant though and I wouldn’t want to leave you stranded after you just hired me.”

“That’s fantastic! Don’t even worry about it. You don’t seem very far along yet. I can teach you the ropes before you give birth and that way when you come back, you’ll already know what to do!”

As you glance at Eddie, his eyes widen with encouragement as he nods his head. 

“Ok, I’d love to work for you.”

Lisa claps and gives you a big hug as your demon beams behind you.

***

“Hello fellow veterans, spouses, and partners! Glad you could all join us tonight. I hope you are having some much needed fun! I do have just a quick announcement to make. I would like to introduce you to Steven Harrington who is new to Hawkins and after speaking with him I feel like he will be a great addition to our center here as the group counselor.” The man at the podium smiles as he gestures towards the demon and everyone around the room claps. “Steve, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

When he hesitates, you gently push him forward, urging him softly before he relents and nervously climbs up the makeshift stage. 

“Um, hi. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve been seen by so many people.” The people chuckle as you and Eddie grin knowingly. “Like Thomas said, I’m, uh, new to Hawkins but my girlfriend is from here and my partner and I thought it would be better for her to be back home where she felt safe with her family so we can start raising our own. I-I-I…shit I used to better at this.”, he chuckles before glancing your way, your gentle smile comforting him. 

“I was raised in a military household. My dad was a solider so that’s what I was expected to be. As soon as I was able, he handed me a weapon and commanded I train to be the best. There was no wiggle room there. It was all or nothing. When I saw war…I shut down and did what I had to. I took no pleasure in killing, contrary to popular belief.”

“The worst part about shutting down that way was how it flowed into my every day. I was as an asshole to everyone including women I dated and people I trained… except for some of the people closest to me…Robin, Chrissy, and Eddie. When Edward and I got out…I felt so out of control…so lost. I lost my identity and everything I knew. If I didn’t have him by my side… Then we met Y/N and without her we literally wouldn’t be here today.”

Steve paused, looking out into the crowd, and realizing he may be talking too much. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you so much for this opportunity and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

The people in the room clap as he steps off the stage and you immediately wrap your arms around his waist as Eddie lightly caresses his cheek. 

***

4 Months Pregnant

You beam at Eddie as he softly strums his instrument. That day after Shawn suggested it, he went down to the music store in town and applied for the job as a guitar instructor. After playing and showing off for them he got the job. He loved hearing the kids try and play reminding him of the children he watched over with Steve during their war. 

Today was everyone’s day off so they were being lazy in bed with you in your pajamas and both demons in nothing but their sweats. 

“Ok, this thing here says for humans you should be feeling him move around now.”, Steve announced as he gestured towards the book he was reading. 

“I haven’t felt him move yet unless the occasional nausea is him saying hello.”, you giggle. Leaning over him, you grab his hand and place it on the middle of your stomach. “Talk to him.”

“Uh, I…hey, Ellis. It’s, um, your daddy. I’m not scaring him with my voice, right?”

“No, baby.”, you grin as you pet his head. “This is how he’ll get used to it though. Hearing and seeing you both in your demon form.”

“Buddy, you have no reason to be afraid of us in any form. I’m sorry your dads aren’t as beautiful as you and your mom but—”

“Hey, speak for yourself.”, Eddie teases making you laugh. “I’m a sexy motherfucker.”

“Oh.”

“What?”, Steve’s eyes shift up excitedly. 

“You didn’t feel that?”

When he shakes his head, you place his hand closer to the side you felt movement, gesturing for the other demon to do the same.

“Say something else.”

“Hey Ellis. This is your other daddy and I assure you we are very handsome.”

“Holy shit.”, Steve exhales as he grins up towards his partner. “That’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you agree, kid.”, Eddie smiles.

***

6 Months Pregnant

Eddie growls at the crib he was trying to assemble as his glowing red eyes glare at the instructions again. Over these past couple of months, you three had made your dad’s old room your bedroom and begun shifting the room you used to sleep in into Ellis’s. 

Going off his personality from your dreams, you painted the room blue with images of guitars along the base boards and up along the ridges of the ceiling. Near where his crib would be, you put up pictures of everyone in his family that loved him including Robin, Wayne, Dustin, and everyone who had passed that he had been conversing with these past six months. 

The boys were able to get everything a baby would need from your realm but also from theirs including those books that Eddie had wrote and some toys demons normally played with at a young age. 

“Whoever invented these contraptions should be tortured for eternity.”, Eddie grunted as he tried again putting a few of the pieces together. 

“You guys don’t have cribs in your realm?” 

“Yeah but they were like boxes essentially. Or at least mine was. I’m sure Steven had gold porcelain or some shit.”

“No.”, Steve chuckled as he took the wrong part from his partner’s hand and handed him the correct one. “I had a regular little wooden thing with soft blankets.”

“I wish I could see what you two were like as kids.”

Since they left Maeve, they weren’t able to snap memories into your head like they were before. It hurt them more than you because you always seemed curious about them and they wished they could show you everything from their point of view, not Henry’s or Mirage’s. 

“How much did Mirage show you?”

“She showed me big events more than anything. Steve always looking for his parents especially your mom. She did play sword fight with you once and you looked so happy until your dad yelled at her for ‘ruining your training’.” You rolled your eyes as Steve pet your head and sighed. “Eddie, I did see what your uncle told me about with your mom singing to you.” The demon’s glow receded in his eyes as he glanced your way with a small smile. 

“Until my father told her to shut up?”

Tilting forward, you crawled over his work to kiss his lips making his smile widen as he caressed your face. 

“What about your parents, honey?”

“Both my parents were amazing. My dad always loved to make us laugh. He liked being a girl dad and my mom exploited that.”, you giggle. “She would make him wear tutus while I would do his makeup and they both would dance.”

A tear left your eyes and both demons promptly gave you their attention. 

“I’m sorry you guys don’t have your parents here. You both deserve better.”

“Baby, it’s ok—”

“Eddie it’s not okay.”

“Will you let me finish?”, he jokes. “It’s ok because I had my mom and I had Wayne. Then as I got older I got my other family. Steven, Robin, Chrissy, and even Dustin. Now, sweetheart, I have you two and Ellis. I couldn’t be happier.”

“I agree. I’m thankful for the memories I do have with my mom but the kids I trained and beings I fought with…that was my family. I’m so excited to see what’s in store for us, you know. See what Ellis is going to do with his life.”

You smiled as you kissed their lips before you wince and lean away. 

“Ow. Little butthead is kicking my side.”

“Hey, kid.”, Eddie teases as he tilts towards your tummy. “Why don’t you stop hurting your mother and come help me make your torture technic of a crib.”

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

8 months Pregnant

You, Steve, and Eddie walked into the house you three had been in so many times these last few months except now it was completely empty. All the furniture and everything was completely absent as you entered the living room full of people.

“Ellis?”

Everyone in the room moved out of the way to where Eddie’s mom was hugging her grandson to her chest as he sobbed. 

“I don wanna go!”

“You have to, baby. Your mommy and daddies need you now. They’ve been waiting so long to see you.”

“Mom?”, Eddie asked as he stepped towards her. “What’s going on?”

She softly smiled as she handed him to your father who spun him around as he chuckled but your son just buried his face further in his neck. 

“Come on, little guy. Your parents have made you an awesome bedroom and knowing my daughter she’s going to show you so many amazing things.”

The little boy shook his head as your dad kissed his temple before handing him to your mom. 

“Steven, remember, you once told me that everything would be ok and you were right. I’ve watched you both take care of my baby and I assure you, you both are going to be more than ok. You are going to be amazing parents.”

He beamed at him as he wrapped his arms around the demon and pulled him in for a hug. 

Your mother grinned as she reached out to touch your face as you started to cry. 

“I’m scared to do this without you.”, you whisper. 

Your parent’s smiles widen as she kisses her grandson and places him in your arms. 

“We’re not going anywhere. We’re always right here.”, she soothes as she points to Ellis’s forehead. “Right behind that door, honey.”

“I love you.”, you son coos as each grandparent reciprocates his affection. 

As both your demons come to your side, you look down to no longer see a toddler but a newborn baby wiggling in your arms. Steve gently pets his head as Eddie reaches for his tiny hand that immediately clings to his finger. 

All of your eyes shoot open but yours is followed by a grunt as you place your hands on your stomach. 

“Fuck! I think…”

They don’t waste any time as they collect you and your things before rushing towards the hospital. 

***

“How long are they going to keep him back there?”, Eddie growled as he held your hand.

“Calm down. Y/N said this was normal. They need to clean him, check his vitals, and all that.”

“Yeah, but Steven, what if something comes up in those vitals that frightens a human.”

The other demon’s eyes flash red in warning in his direction as a low rumble leaves his chest. 

“Maybe we should have had him in your realm.”, you respond groggily as your heavy eyes shift their way. 

“Baby, don’t let Edward scare you, ok? He’s fine. He’s got more human in him right now than anything. Dustin said he would grow into his demon parts.”

“He also said we’re the first couple ever to do this so…”

“Edward Munson, I swear—“, Steve’s anger was cut short when the door to your hospital room opened and a nurse casually sauntered in.

“Hey Munson-Harrington family.”, she smiles. “We have little Ellis here fast asleep and everything looks good. Mommy, how are you feeling?”

“Like I gave birth.” The nurse laughs at your joke as your demons roll their eyes. “I’m alright. A bit exhausted.”

“Yeah, that’s normal, sweetheart. Good news is your baby is in perfect health. Would you like to meet him?” Your eyes fully open as you sit up, smiling softly when she places him in your arms.  “I’ll come check on you three in a bit.”

Tears start to fall as you fully take him in. Right now, he seemed like a completely normal child with soft skin and just a sliver of brown hair poking out of his blue beanie. 

“Hey, honey. You’re so handsome. I’m your mommy.”, you coo in a whisper as you kiss his forehead. “Oh my god, he smells so good.”, you laugh as you look their way. 

Eddie was the first to step forward, sitting beside you on the bed as he caressed his son’s chubby little cheek with his finger. 

“Holy shit. He’s so soft.”, he breathes. “You’re perfect, kid.”

Steve finally takes a seat as well and reaches out to feel his tiny hand. 

“He’s warm to. Is that normal?” When you nod, he almost breathes a sigh of relief. “Ellis, we’re your daddies. You ARE perfect, oh my god.”

The baby squirms a bit in your hold giving them pause before pulling away. 

“I think that was his way of saying thank you.”, you smile. 

###########

3 Weeks Old

“Fascinating.”, Dustin muses as he rocks Ellis in his arms while swaying around the living room. “He really does look just like a little human with the soft skin and everything. Nothing has stood out?”

“Can you stop analyzing our baby and just enjoy him?”, Eddie snaps as he sighs. 

“No, nothing.”, you giggle, answering his question. “And so far he seems to eat but not as much as normal babies.”

“How so?”

“Babies are supposed to eat every two hours; we’ve been feeding him every six. I was worried at first but we just took him the doctor and she said he was healthy. When I tried to give him a bottle every two he would cry and push at my hands.”

“Interesting. That has to be hard, Y/N. Him not being able to verbally tell you things like that. I hated when my kids cried in general but you…you still have that whole trial and error thing going.”

Glancing towards your demons, Eddie had fallen asleep with his head nestled in Steve’s lap on the couch who was already napping when Dustin arrived. 

“It is. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us though and I know they do to. I’ve been keeping a record like you suggested should this ever happen for anyone else.”

“Good.” When he notices your gaze shift again, he takes a seat on the floor beside you and lays Ellis on the blanket between you both. “Everything ok with you three?”

“Yeah, I’m just a little worried. They were both already so protective over me and now that he’s here… Steve’s been having nightmares. He pretends he doesn’t but I hear him groaning in his sleep and feel him wake up. I asked him the other night if he still has access to my dreams and he said he can’t find the door anymore.”

A tear fell down your check as Dustin reached out to comfort you. 

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Eddie’s attitude has been a lot shorter lately. He’s exhausted and worried about the three of us. He triple checks everything to the point that I find him asleep on the floor by Ellis’s crib because he’s too tired to make it back to our bed and would just rather be closer to his son just in case.”

“What about you? Besides the worry I mean.”

“I know I’m probably being paranoid but sometimes I feel like we’re being watched. It may just be because of our dynamic. I know not everyone is excepting like the new friends we’ve made but no one has said anything… I don’t know. Just…mom brain maybe.”

“Hm, maybe. Keep an eye on that. From what you’ve told me, you’re always pretty intuitive. Wouldn’t want to miss something you know?”

#########

5 Weeks Old

“Oh my god, Y/N, look at him.”, Lisa coos at Ellis as she holds him in her arms. 

“Are you alright, Steve? You look like you haven’t slept.”, Shawn chuckles. 

“Yeah, I’m doing alright. Just…little guy keeping me up.”, he forces a smile. 

Your friends were having a get together for veterans and their families and since Steve worked at the center you suggested you three should go and be seen. Truthfully, you thought it would be good for them both to get out of the house as well as having him specifically spend some time with his new veteran friends to talk about anything that may be weighing on his mind causing his nightmares.

As the night wore on you noticed their soft grins return to their faces as he and Eddie mingled with the people around them. They radiated warmth as they talked about their son and everything he had done with his short little life so far.

“Have you guys started baby proofing yet? I swear when my daughter started crawling it was like she knew which areas were the bad ones!”

“Oh no, not yet. He did smile at Y/N the other day. Ellis has a beautiful little grin.”, Steve boasts.

“At that age usually it’s just reflexive. They see you guys smiling so…”

“Isn’t that all babies though? Like that’s how they learn?”, Eddie genuinely asks as the dads around him laugh. 

“Yeah but who knows some babies are different! You may just have an extremely happy baby who couldn’t wait to show you guys how much he loves being here.”

Time passed and a few of the guests left, leaving the main few that you had really gotten to know. You all sat in the living room while Eddie patted his son’s back as Ellis slept soundly. Steve tenderly petted the baby’s head as you beamed at them from your place in the chair across from them. 

“So how has everything else been going?”, Thomas asks as he chugs back some of the beer in his bottle. 

“Everything has been good, man. Just focusing on them, ya know?”

“Yeah, I understand. When my son was born, that first night I checked on him every hour on the hour. Then for some reason I kept checking on my wife. I knew our son needed us both and I kept thinking ‘What if something happened to either of us?’”

“I can understand that. I, uh, before Y/N and Steve, I lost a lot of people I loved and there was nothing I could do. Now that Ellis is here…it would kill me if anything ever happened to him.”

“Do you have nightmares about it? About losing them?”

“I don’t but Stevie here does.”, Eddie answers causing Steve to toss a glare his way. 

“I do but it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“I had them to. Sometimes I would dream they were on the battlefield I fought in. I would run to them but I could never quite reach them.”, Thomas sighs at the memory. “What do you dream about?”

“It’s fine really.”

You’re not sure if anyone else heard but you and Eddie did as the demon’s voice fluctuated to his real one for a split second.

“Steven…”

“It’s ok, Y/N. Like I said, I get it. If you talk about it, it gives it validity right? You’d hate to manifest something like that into existence. Someone killing Y/N and your son.”

Steve’s eyes closed as his head ticked to the side. 

“Ok, Tom, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I’m putting my foot down. You’re going to push him too far and he’s already got enough on his mind.”, Eddie defended rising to his feet and handing you the baby. 

“Ah, you’re the enabler I imagine. You allow him to shelter his feelings so he doesn’t have to deal with them.”

“You’re damn right I do. You humans have no idea what we’ve been through!”

“Interesting word choice. Is that how you separate people from your experiences?”

“Come on, guys, let’s head home.” As the long-haired demon grabbed his boyfriend’s arm, he remained frozen in place. Kneeling in front of him, he cupped his face in his hands. “Steven, it’s ok alright. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Let’s go home and get some sleep, huh?”

When the demon finally opened his eyes, Eddie’s widen in fear; he knew this look all too well. As subtly as he could, he got to his feet and towards the front door with you trailing after him. 

“Steven—”

Once the wind of the outside hit your faces, he expanded his wings, cutting you off as he vanished into the air.

***

“Edward, baby, are you ok?”

Eddie nodded from his place on the floor next Ellis who was sleeping soundly beside him. After laying down as well, he softly smiles your way as he continues caressing the baby’s open hand. 

“DO I enable him, Y/N?”

“Eddie…”

“I just…we went through so much… Every day I had to watch the man I love breakdown. Even when we were out, summoners never treated us with any kind of respect. They knew we wouldn’t be there for long. In our realm, he was hero and with one choice, he was banished and imprisoned…because of me.”

“No, Eddie. Everything you two went through was because of Henry. He killed Chrissy and framed you. Jason didn’t give Steve much of a choice. He was going to disobey orders and hurt you.”

“I always tried to make it up to him… I tried not to show my feelings, pretending I didn’t care we were trapped. Pretending I wasn’t scared and just as angry as he was. I’ve done that my whole life, Y/N. When my mom got sick, I did everything I could to make her laugh so she wouldn’t see how devastated I was. Every time my father came home upset, I acted like I was tough but I was fucking terrified, baby. I was so scared.”

A tear fell from his eye and your immediately wiped it away with your thumb.

“When he fled, I was afraid for my uncle. I didn’t even think twice when I signed up but I was positive I wouldn’t last a month out there on the battlefield. Steven and Robin helped me become a better fighter. With Chris I pretended to be more together than I was. She had enough on her plate at the time and I wanted her to feel safe.”

“It seems like that’s why you pretend, Eddie, so the people you love feel safe.”

Sitting up, he started to cry harder and you immediately crawled to him, curling up in his lap as you held him in your arms. 

The sound you recognized as a portal opening grabbed both your attention as you called Steve’s name.

“Hey, no, sorry. It’s just me. I have him here though.”, Robin answered as she came around the corner with the demon leaning half-conscious around her shoulders. “My girlfriend sent me a message saying he was there at the bar. He had been babbling about how human drinks aren’t strong enough and something about you two and Ellis.”

After leading her to the bedroom, she gently placed Steve onto the mattress. When Eddie entered the room, she smiled when she saw your son’s wide eyes looking back at her.

“He woke up.”, the demon announced as Ellis yawned to emphasis his point. 

“You need to let your parents get some rest, booger.”, Robin coos as she pokes his nose making him smile. 

“Some of our friends said for human babies around this time smiles like that are a reflex.”

“Yeah but he’s not entirely human and that beautiful, drool filled grin didn’t seem reflexive.”, she responded. “It seems like he can handle the demon skin since he’s letting us touch him.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the potion.”, you nod as you reach out to tickle the baby’s chin. “Thank you for bringing Steve back, Robin.”

Softly smiling, she leans down to kiss your forehead.

“Seriously, you and Ellis are so soft—”

“Ay yi, ma’am. This human is ours.”, Eddie playfully scolds as he swats his hand in her direction. 

***

Loud banging and clinking echoes behind the door you’re looking at as smoke occasionally slips through the seams. Taking a long exhale, you reach for the handle but someone tapping your shoulder startles you as you turn and smack the person’s face. 

“Ow! Jesus woman. How many times are you going to pop me?!”, Eddie whines as he rubs his cheek. 

“Edward, how did you—”

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for the door for months. Maybe you finally calmed me down enough to know what I’m looking for.” Nodding, you kiss his lips. “So what’s the plan?”

“I think…this is Steve’s door. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to access his dreams but I haven’t been able to.”

Holding your hand, he carefully turns the knob and you both step through. Glancing down at his attire, Eddie realizes he’s suddenly in his old battle armor and you both are on the battlefield they fought on all those centuries ago. 

“Why am I not in armor?”

“I mean, you weren’t there, baby.”

“What the fuck are you two doing here?!”, Steve’s father shrieks above you as he lands on his feet. “Leave. NOW. My son needs to learn his lesson.”

“YOU’VE been giving him his nightmares?”, you growl.

“Not exactly. He started having them on his own but I’ve been fueling them.”

Shifting your gaze behind him, you both watch as Steve slaughters enemy after enemy, panting as he slowly tires himself out.

“Steven! Do better! You think these fuckers are going to show mercy on your son?! You have to do what I taught you to get the truth!”

Eddie gripped Bill’s throat and angrily threw him to the ground. 

“You made your hell his hell, you fucking asshole. He told me all about you and everything you did to him. You ruined his life enough! Leave him be.”

“Please. He’s doing this to himself. He’s worried about you two peasants and that thing. I’m making him better. Stronger.”

Grabbing a sword from the ground, you lift the handle and point the other end towards his throat. 

“You heard him. Leave Steven alone or else I swear to God, Bill, I will find a way myself to keep you in hell.”

Growling under his breath, he tried to stand but you and Eddie forced him back down with your weapons. Huffing he suddenly disappeared as well as every other solider that had fallen around the other demon. 

“Ed-Edward?”, Steve panted heavily when you noticed you both there. “Y/N? What are you…? It doesn’t matter. We need to get to Ellis or else Henry’s going to kill him. We have to—”

“Baby, look at me.”, Eddie tried to soothe as he cupped his cheeks in his hands. “You’re dreaming ok? Henry is gone and Ellis is in his crib fast asleep.”

“N-No. No? I can hear him. I can hear him crying! Can’t you hear that?!”

“Steven—”

“NO!”, the demon growls loudly as he shoves the man he loves hard backwards. “Who are you?! You’re not Edward. Y-You’re…You’re trying to trick me. Are you Mirage? Did Henry and his dad hire you to stop me?!”

“Steven…”, Eddie cried with worry as he threw the sword he was holding to the ground and held up his hands. “Sweetheart, please, it’s me. I promise. I would never hurt you like that. I would never keep you from our son.”

As he tried to step forward, the other demon shoved him to the ground.

“I-I-I need to get to my son.”, Steve sobbed as his voice cracked. “I know you’re not Eddie. Tell me where he is.”

When he didn’t answer, he pulled back and pushed his weapon downward. 

The sound of your grunt filled their ears as your eyes met Steve’s wide glassy ones. When you both looked down, blood drenched his sword where it had pushed through your stomach and around your back. 

“Baby?”

Looking up at him again, you smiled through the pain as blood dripped from your lips. 

“Why…why does it hurt?”

The three of you opened your eyes at the same time as you sat up clutching your stomach. Lifting up your shirt, there was no wound but it felt so real. You could still feel the stinging pain lingering on your skin. 

Eddie’s head slowly turned meeting Steve’s still shocked expression as is mouth hung open in shock. 

“I—”

The long-haired demon’s growl cut him off as his eyes glowed bright red. 

“Take us to another realm that we can fucking damage NOW.” You didn’t say anything as Steve rose to his feet with his head hung preparing a portal for them to go through. “Stay here.”

Coming around the bed, he waited for the other demon to finish as you peeked into the world they’d be going to. It was completely baron with nothing but white as far as the eye can see. 

“Fitting.”, Eddie responded in anger as he and the other demon walked inside. 

As the portal began to close, you quickly got up and jumped through right as it disappeared. 

You knew Eddie may be mad but after what happened this wasn’t something you were going to let them handle alone. 

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

@tlclick73 @tiannamortis @steeldaisies @goodhappyfriday @paleidiot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@strangerthings64 @howlingco @eddiesguitarskills

@prettypeachsworld @nailbatanddungeon @notlempet

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Violence, graphic violence, blood, fighting, human trafficking, mentions of abuse, drug use, child abuse, sex trafficking, angst. So much angst.

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Whew! I'm proud of this one! Many thanks to my bestest friend, Artemis, who himself has DID and helps me understand this condition and describe them (hopefully) more accurately! His system is a big help in me learning more about this subject! (Extra note: any Spanish spoken in this fic is in italics. As I am not a fluent speaker by any means, it is mostly translated by Google. Have fun!)

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 2:

Inside Voices

(Steven, no…) Marc's voice groaned out, glaring at him through the shared reflection in the glass door.

"But Marc! I've lived here for ages and didn't know this shop was here!" Steven beamed, smiling widely. Thankfully the wireless headphones he had on made him look like he was on the phone, and not completely off his rocker…

Marc ran his hands through his curly black hair. (You have enough books!)

"But this store might have books I don't have!" He pointed out.

(Just let him look, hermano.) Jake sighed, his reflection staring up at Steven from a puddle on the ground.

"Yes, thank you, Jake. At least somebody encourages my hobby!" Steven huffed indignantly at Marc.

(Jake, stop babying him!)

(Hey, nothing wrong with having a hobby?) The man snorted.

Marc rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders, he directed a tired glare back at Steven.

(You gonna go in or just stare at the front door?) He finally asked.

Steven grinned like an excited boy going into a candy shop.

Marc really needed to have a talk with Jake about this. Steven already had too many books in their flat!

Steven pulled the headphones out of his ears and shoved them in his pocket as he opened the door, nearly jumping when the bell dinged.

He looked around, rather impressed with how much was inside a small space. Steven almost jumped again when the clerk spoke.

"Hi! Welcome to Here Today Books!" She said cheerfully.

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(I'm just saying, Steven… that's too many fucking books.) Marc said, crossing his arms at Steven through the reflection in the window across from his desk, cluttered with papers, folders, and books on various subjects of the Egyptian religious pantheon, architecture, etcetera.

"Oh, hush." Steven hummed, pushing his glasses up his nose as he examined the pages on one of the old books he held in his hand.

(Steven…) Marc sighed, exasperatedly. 

"I know, I know." He sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The stubble there was getting rather coarse. Maybe he could talk Jake out of growing that mustache or goatee he was thinking about…

Steven looked over and picked up the bookmark, sighing deeply as he looked at the gold-tipped rose sealed so lovingly in the plastic. Small vine-luke designs had been penned into the colorful sheet of paper inside the plastic as well.

(Very Beauty and The Beast, no?) Jake mused, his reflection from the mirror on the desk looking at Steven with a cocky grin.

It helped them, they found, to have as many reflective surfaces as possible in their flat; it enabled them to talk to each other simultaneously and "see" one another. Sure they could all talk in the headspace, and when they co-fronted it was almost like they could feel each other; rubbing shoulders, as it were, but sometimes you just needed to see the other person, y'know? Outside of your own head? Shared head? The terms still confused poor Steven, at times.

"I s'pose." He hummed, holding the plastic in his fingers gently, as if it were made of the thinnest glass. Absentmindedly, he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and looked at the inside of his left wrist.

A mark was there.

A rose, to be precise.

Sometimes it would look like it was wilting, other times it was blooming and vibrant… other times it was closed, not ready to bloom.

Right now, it was somewhere between wilting and blooming. He wasn't sure what it meant. He thought back to Marc's ex-wife, Layla. And how he practically fell head over heels with her when they first met.

He had hoped, with Layla, that she had a corresponding mark… but she didn't. Layla was one of the few who didn't have a mark, or in the very least it hadn't shown up yet. Which isn't entirely implausible… But… something happened. After escaping the Duat, coming back to life, fighting Ammit… finding out about Jake.

They just drifted apart. The sparks that may have been there snuffed out, any hints at romance gone from the equation. They all decided it was better to leave it at that.

Well, at least they were all still on friendly terms, Steven mused. Layla still spoke to he and Marc via phone, or even email. It took Steven forever to convince Marc to ditch that "old dinosaur piece of plastic" he called a phone, and stick with his touch-screen.

Except… Jake. Ah, Jake. Layla never fully trusted him.

(Steven.) Jake said, getting his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" He hummed, turning the bookmark over and over in his hand thoughtfully, eyes fluttering back to their mark on their wrist.

(It's my turn tonight.) Jake reminded him softly.

"Oh… right." He cringed. "Bollocks, I hate this…"

(I know, hermanito. But it has to be done, or the bad guys roam free…)

"All right, just… don't let me see any of it, yeah?" Steven sighed, placing the bookmark on the table as he put his hands in his lap.

(Of course.) Jake replied.

Marc stayed silent.

Suddenly, eyes flew closed, the jaw clenched; a bit of a sharp pain fluttered briefly through the brain at the sudden switching. They were getting better at seamless transitions, but sometimes some form of discomfort lingered. The body sat, almost like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Whether it was five minutes or five seconds, it was unsure. 

When the eyes opened again…

Jake was sitting where Steven sat. Steven's reflection wasn't in the mirror as Jake's had been, previously. He was left alone with Marc staring at him from the inky-black reflection in the window.

(I really hate that we have to do that to him.) Marc sighed, shaking his head.

"He's too gentle for our work, Marc." Jake said, clicking his tongue as he stood, walking over to the wardrobe in the corner and reaching out to grab his old leather coat. "He's too… good."

(I know.) Marc's reflection was in the fishtank now, where Gus the Second was swimming alongside… they really should think of a name for the other two.

Jake tugged the old worn garment on and pulled the gloves out of his jacket pockets with a sharp yank, flexing his fingers as they filled out the soft, well broken-in leather. Lastly, he pulled out that golf cap and slid it on his head, and looked at Marc.

(You don't have to see this, either, Marc.) He said to him.

(Somebody's gotta bear the weight with you, brother.) Marc said intently.

"Gracias por eso, hermano." Jake mumbled, twirling the flat's keys in his fingers as he walked to the front door.

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He sat, kneeling on the rooftop, his body hunched in a way that made him look like a gargoyle, unflinching and unmoving in his gaze; the cape gifted to him flared out almost like a long, tattered set of broken wings.

He wasn’t sure why he decided here of all places was a good place to talk. Why here? What drew him here? Was it the lingering joy and comfort Steven felt when he came in earlier that day?

The sign was hand-painted and in need of a new coat. Flecks of it had chipped away, the exposed wood beneath bleached by years of exposure. But… why was the bookshop important enough to stand outside now?

He looked down below, the curtains were pulled back still in the flat above, old lightbulbs casting a soft, orangish glow to everything inside. He could barely see from this vantage point across the street the boxes of books and book stacks lying on a desk in front of the window. Small knick knacks lined the sills, a hanging plant pot on the outside containing flowers of different kinds, slightly wilted from the lack of sun from the past few days, and now the night.

He stirred when he watched the young woman inside walk to the window in the living room and close the curtains; then tracked her movements as she went about her nightly rituals.

She seemed relaxed. Comfortable. Safe.

She didn't need protection tonight.

He felt the air chill around him, seeping through the wrappings of his armor.

“Jake Lockley.”

There it was. The voice he was waiting for. The voice that always knocked him away from his personal thoughts. The voice that told him of his duties during the night.

Khonshu.

“Yes, father?” Jake asked, standing up, turning to see the large imposing silhouette of a gaunt man, enshrouded in ancient, wispy linen wraps, a tattered shawl hanging from his bony shoulders, clenched in his fist; in place of a head was the dessicated and fleshless bone of a bird skull, small web-like tendrils wafting about here or there. Large, eyeless sockets fixed him in a crushing gaze, the skull tilting in an almost inquisitive manner.

(I wish you’d stop calling him that…) Marc grumbled from within. 

“Have you located the evil-doers I sent you after?” Khonshu’s ancient and ethereal voice grated out.

“Yes. I plan on taking them out tonight.” Jake replied dutifully.

Khonshu tilted his head at Jake, and stood from where he sat on the aircon unit. “Now… Why are you here? This is not where you usually prefer to speak with me.”

“I… don’t know.” Jake admitted softly. “Felt like I had to be here.” 

“Hmm.” The god hummed, stopping to stand next to Jake, looking down at the flat below. “Indeed.”

“Was there… anything else, father?” Jake asked, looking up at him.

“No. You can leave. I will issue new orders when our quarry is dead and dealt with.”

“Of course.” Jake bowed his head, pressing his fist over the moon on his chest; sparing one last glance down at the woman before walking away, leaping to another rooftop with superhuman strength.

Khonshu stayed. Observing, just for a moment longer, at the woman inside the safety of her home. 

“Interesting.” He mused to himself, stamping his staff down and vanishing in a haze of mist.

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Jake panted, pulling one of his darts out of the chest of the man who had tried to previously shoot him just now. He sheathed the weapon and approached the shipping container, hesitating for a moment before smashing the lock open with his bare fist and hauling the heavy doors open.

Inside were half a dozen women and young girls, and children. Some of them naked, others half-dressed. Many of them were dirty and half starved, injuries evident on their poor bodies.

He noticed how they all flinched, backing away from him.

“I won’t hurt you.” He said, in a tone as soft as he could possibly manage, trying to ease their worries. “I’m here to save you.” 

Jake leaned down and pulled the jacket off the dead body of the man he had just killed, stepping over the corpse to the young woman nearest to him. 

She was clad only in her underwear, bruises and track marks lining her body. He draped the jacket over her shoulders, zipping it closed for her as he guided her arms through the sleeves. 

“The police are on their way. You’ll all be safe, soon.” He said, his glowing white eyes fixed in the black abyss of his mask immediately zeroed in on three women, clinging their arms around a group of small children.

The youngest couldn’t have been older than three years old. Her eyes cold, far too ancient and haunted for one so young, clouded by the things she’d been forced to endure for the profit of her traffickers; her tiny body already bearing the scars of the abuse and trauma. Jake’s fist balled at his sides as he forced his breathing to try and calm; adrenaline surging through him again, a hot coal of rage dropping deep into the pit of his stomach.

He wished he could kill them all over again. He wished he could make them all suffer in ways they could barely process for the things they’d done. He wanted to–

His cloak was tugged on, snapping him out of his seething.

He looked down, and a small boy, all skin and bones looked up at him. He looked to be about seven. Could be older, as malnourishment can inhibit growth. His big green eyes looked up at Jake as he wrapped the edge of his cloak around his shoulders like a blanket, his dirty and grimy fingers clinging to the blood-soaked material, seeking comfort he so desperately needed. Jake felt his heart crack in two. He looked almost like...

He closed his eyes for a moment and kneeled, getting as eye level with the boy as he could.

“You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Jake said, his voice quiet, almost broken. He reached for a ratty blanket on the ground and covered the little boy with it, the sight of him covered in a bloody cape almost too much for him to bear. 

He felt his breathing hitch when the little boy smiled up at him, gap-toothed and happy. He handed the boy off to a woman who looked to only be maybe nineteen.

“Stay…” He cleared his throat, looking at everyone within the container, standing back to his full imposing height. 

“Stay here while I make sure it’s safe and I got them all. Someone will be here soon to get you all out of here.”

“Thank you.” One of the women sobbed quietly, clutching onto what looked to be her own child. They looked too similar for them to be anything but related.

Jake turned, his cape flowing out behind him like a white shadow as he stalked into the warehouse beyond, his fists already tight; the spiked knuckles on the back of his hands ready for blows he was all too eager to deliver.

He stepped over bodies, beaten, broken. Lifeless. 

All at his hand. They deserved worse.

The eerie quiet of the cavernous space was only interrupted by the tinkling of chains suspended from the rafters, wind whistling through unseen cracks. 

He could hear the sirens in the distance closing in, but he didn’t relax. He wouldn’t. Not until he was sure.

Not until he knew they were all dead.

Jake’s hands trembled with anticipation as that coal of rage ignited into an inferno, burning hot and low in his belly, sending sparks through his bloodstream. He was so far into that haze of red, he missed the man rushing him with a kabar knife. 

He must have missed that one, the coward was probably hiding the moment the carnage broke out.

The moment he turned, he felt the blade slip easily through the wrappings of his dark armor, piercing the flesh and organs beneath, the pain tearing through his body like a macabre tsunami.

He brought his fist out, slamming the spiked knuckles into the face of the man.

The coppery scent of blood, the crunch of bones and cartilage filled his nose and were deafeningly loud in his ears. He was sure he watched his eyeball dislodge, hanging over the crushed and bloody expanse of his cheek as his body was sent flying into the cargo loader nearby.

The sound of his bones turning almost to powder overpowered the haunting ambience of the dark lair.

Jake marched over to him and gripped him by the shirt, rearing his fist back for another punch, even as his body hung limp in his grasp. 

Only… he couldn’t land the blow. He just couldn’t. It was one thing to kill to protect. But it was another to beat a corpse that he’d already wrought with one blow. His ears picked up the sounds of shouting, sirens, bootfall. A helicopter whirred above, spotlight shining at the carnage below.

He stood, clutching at the knife still sticking out of his side as he dragged his feet, pulling the shell of his body outside, where he was met with armored police officers, wearing what he assumed was some kind of riot gear. The pain in his side was maddening, he almost didn’t hear them demand he kneel. But he did hear a woman cry.

He lifted his gaze to see the woman he’d handed the boy off to; the child still clutched in her arms as they looked over at him, their eyes locking with his.

“He saved us!” She cried.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” Another shouted.

“He’s a nice man!” A child sobbed, clinging to the emergency blanket around her frail body.

Jake felt like he could cry, he felt his heart swell to bursting; not able to tear his gaze away from the innocents he’d saved, that he killed for. Not even when one of the officers approached him, gripping his elbow to keep him steady.

The older man sighed, unable to cuff the man that the human trafficking victims were shouting and crying accolades for. Even if he apparently killed all these monsters bare-handed. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you looked at. We can’t leave that knife in ya.” 

“I’m fine.” Jake mumbled, looking at the ground. His shoulders slumped.

“Like hell you are.” The officer turned and shouted for a medic.

“Perdóname, mi corazón." Jake muttered to himself. To someone else.

But as the man carrying the equipment bag jogged towards him, Jake gripped the handle of the knife and wrenched it free in one tug, blood spurting from the wound.

“Good God!” The officer gasped, reaching out to press his hand over the gushing wound. “Are you insane, boy?”

“Yes.” Jake mumbled, pulling his hand away from him, with gentle care that betrayed the violence his bloody fingers had wrought mere moments ago. He felt the wound close, the magic and blessed armor already performing its duty. Just as he had, so violently.

Jake straightened his posture as the medic and the officers backed away in a strange mixture of fascination, horror, and awe.

“Who… what are you?” The medic breathed.

Jake turned away, his gaze to the sky.

“I’m Moon Knight.”

And with that final goodbye, he leapt up, disappearing into the blackness and depths of the night, his heart heavy but relieved, cloak streaking across the shadows, as if to chase them away.

Chapter 3: Link

[u3pxx]

I'm glad you liked the bad omens drawing so much!!! I've wanted to draw them ever since I saw your designs :>>>> and its also a great thing to get my mind off school for a moment. Thank you for enabling me more in my good omens hyper-fixation!!! I request nothing but more of your bad omens designs- and on the topic of angel!crowley's questionable fashion choices: I would love to see how they would react to dressing in each other's styles! :DD

oh man, i just realized i haven't replied to this one yet! orz but i do wanna thank you again for drawing them back then! it was such a highlight of my day when i got it (i love looking at it!!!!!) and it kept me motivated thru my exams long ago pftt <33

i did draw doodles for my answer to this a longgg time ago (DIES) but i wanted to color them so i held off for a while but, we're here now and as you can see , DFGHJD out of the vault they go! (this is making me miss my bomens fellas not gonna lie o(TヘTo))

(not mentioned bomens lore yet, so yknow how aziraphale sucks at french right, when i was like "which language is bomens!crowley bad at then" someone replied with "flowers" and i just love that so much DFGHJD)

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

REWATCHING GO S1, LIVE PLAY-BY-PLAY OF DOOMSDAY WAHOO

HELLO MAGGOTS REWATCHING SEASON 1 BECAUSE THE FIRST TIME WAS A KIDNAPPING CHAOTIC MESS. EPISODE ONE HERE GOES. I DON'T REMEMBER A LOT OF DETAILS BUT YES.

Opening scene and Earth's got vibe-checked by God and I've been gaslit about the dinosaurs

GARDEN OF EDEEEEEN wow his first appearance and Aziraphale's already so prissy and flustered might fuck around and fall in love with him idk

I finally understand who these mf's are hi Hastur and Ligur you're not zombies after all

FOR FUCK'S SAKE SECOND SCENE CROWLEY'S BEEN IN AND SHE WALKED IN, SERVED HIPS HAIR AND CUNT, AND THEN MANAGED TO TALK HER AWAY INTO A PROBLEM

LIKE GENUINELY SHE COMES AND SASHAYS WITH HER HAIR AND SAYS TIMES ARE CHANGING AND HEAD OFFICE LOVES ME AND JUST INSTANTLY HASTUR AND LIGUR USE HER WORDS AGAINST HER

idk sister mary loquacious is kinda doing it for me rn with that satanic nun's habit and losergirl energy

third crowley scene and he's misplaced THE LITERALLY GODDAMNED ANTICHRIST because he made small talk with a bloke outside without checking for details

mmmmhm yes sister mary wink again your bitchless decisions are sexy y'know what i mean

Gabriel feels like his brain was eviscerated and replaced with one of those youtuber's paid course promos at the end of their how to change your life in 45 days: three simple mindset shifts video

so THIS IS WHY EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING PAVLOVIAN IN THIS FANDOM IT'S BECAUSE OF DUCKS of course it's because of ducks

mmmhm yes sure crepes French revolu--Crowley stop eye-fucking Aziraphale you're making everyone at the Ritz horny

Aziraphale don't moan into your food man you can't take these two anywhere

Crowley thanking the driver for slowing down is everything to me

And they're drunk hu-fucking-zzah good thing we'll have 11 year olds saving the world coz these fuckers sure ain't doing shit

OH MY GOD HE WAS TRYING TO SAY BOUILLABAISSE I JUST REALISED. I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST MAKING KISSY FACES AT AZIRAPHALE I'M NOT OK-

What Aziraphale was doing back was definitely kissy faces though that mfer wasn't even trying to say bouillabaisse when Crowley said what sounded suspiciously like baby

kissy kissy from lil miss prissy [i would have made such a great high school bully shame i had no inclinations that way]

SORRY WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT SOBERING UP EXCUSE ME THE FANFICS MADE IT SOUND LIKE IT WAS A CLICK AND THEY'RE SUDDENLY NORMAL WHY IS THE ALCOHOL REFILLING

oop nun down nun down

i want ya see a wile ya thwart amirite on a t-shirt

"actually i encourage humans to-" just say you're a lazy bitch azi we love you

love crowley fake-manipulating azi into helping like azi wants to be manipulated y'know so it's not technically his fault he was wiled over or whatever and they're both just such ENABLERS

not azi going SOFT at being godfathers with crowley

NOT BROTHER FRANCIS PLEASE NO FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED AZI WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS PLEASE

WARLOCKKKKK I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

HNNNG MICHAEL SHEEN HAD TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS

why is nanny ashtoreth so seductive with that of course dear is it just crowley's inherent disastergirl sex appeal

HALF PONYTAIL CROWLEY I AM A FUCKING SLUT FOR HALF PONYTAIL

GASLIGHTING HEAVEN AND HELL THAT'S MY BABYGIRLS

erIC THE DISPOSABLE DEMON I DIDN'T KNOW THEY COME IN S1 well not come i hope unless being eaten by a hellho--nope

ANGEL CROWLEY SAID ANGEL ANGEL ANGEL

CROWLEY TRYING TO BE SUBTLE ABOUT KILLING BEFORE GETTING ANNOYED

waiter crOWLEY OUTFIT I CANNOT BE NORMAL AFTER THE WEDDING DRESS DESIGNING ABOUT THIS COSTUME

FOOLS WRONG BOY YOU FOOLS IM DEAD

DOG IS UNIRONICALLY SO CUTE EVEN BEFORE IT GOES SMOL

gonna give my roxie a kissy brb she's my angel and all this dog talk makes me miss her (she's a few feet away under the bed)

i asked her for a kissy and she crawled out and gave me a kiss i love her

DOGGGGG ADAMMM

...roxie's crying to be taken downstairs it's nearly 2 am this is on me for waking her up i crowley'd myself fml

EYYYYY WELCOME TO THE END TIMES don't mind me I'll have to take roxie down yes I know maggots I'm crowley-coded I KNOW THAT I'M A BLOODY DISASTER BYEEEEEEEE

[calibali22]

Smoking with NCT Dream (reaction)

a/n: ayo I highk wasn't even gonna write today😭 but conversations with @neoculturecollectives will get you typing a mile a minute ong, so thank you for enabling my impulsion fren🩷

warning: mature. mdni

Mark: Mark would be all sexy and chill which would make him even sexier. He would absolutely cuddle with you and let you sit on/straddle his lap- platonically or in a relationship, just know it's ending in you riding him. maybe another round in the shower..and he may wake you up with head in the middle of the night.

Renjun: This could actually be a solo thing where he smokes alone. He'd be so pent up from schedules and shenanigans that he relishes in being able to finally sit back on the sofa and have a little me time. Now that he's calm and relaxed, he's definitely jerking off. Mans isn't quiet about it either. If he's feeling a lil spicy he might even record himself a bit and send it to you.

Jeno: This guy would just already be head thrown back still smoking as you ride him. He would have one hand slapping and gripping your ass, telling you to go slow before he ditches the blunt to wrap both arms around you and fuck up into you. He'll probably get sleepy after a shower and will climb straight into bed cuddling flush up against you buck ass naked.

Haechan: Haechan. dear Lord, Haechan. This man would be manspreading on purpose, tilting his head back to blow out the smoke because he knows how much you like his neck. His hand placement would be oh so intentional as it rests on his crotch or just on his thigh right next to it- thumb rubbing back and forth over his semi hard on. He would either be very up front about wanting to fuck, or, he'd be so obviously faking obliviousness that you just end up begging for him and he gives in biting his lip saying "Princess if you wanted it so bad you just needed to ask."

Jaemin: One word. shotgun. It'd be an experimental thing but right as it happens, Jaemin would just stare at your face. studying you. His eyes are heavy as he gives you that growing smile where he's biting his lip and raises his eyebrows as if saying "you like that?" You will most likely end up giving him head after that.

Chenle: ngl this little shit may be full of mischief. He would spend the whole night spamming your phone with texts about how you're all scared and won't pull up. Until you do. Then he's biting his lip staring at you as you go off on him about bothering you. When you stop mid-rant to go on about him not listening, he interrupts you with a kiss and says "you make anger so hot" just to piss you off💀

Jisung: I feel like there would also be straddling with Jisung. He would kind of space out every now and then. All of a sudden his hands would glide over your ass and just grip it greedily, absentmindedly mumbling a "mine" when you let out a moan. Then as you sit back straight on him after placing the blunt and lighter on the table, one of his hands would slide up to your neck, lightly choking you- your own gripping the seam of his t-shirt. The vibes are just hella sensual not even gonna lie. He would re-adjust you to sit directly on his bulge, making you grind against it. The part that would make him snap is the whimper you release when he traces your lips with his tongue and adds a little pressure to your throat. After that he's pulling you into a deep and slow paced kiss led by him. You're not shy with the tongue and that just makes him grind back against you harder. Basically y'all cum from making out and dry humping lmao.

[shourin]

Just dropping by to check on Morax's down bad lover. How are you doing sweetie?

NSFW:

Although most of your intimate sessions with the Geo Archon were gentle and filled with nothing but raw love from the man, it seems he cannot help it if he desires to see you crying, whimpering beneath him as he penetrates your little cunt, his cum from the previous rounds slowly dripping down the bed sheets, a ring of white forming at the end of Morax's cock.

I imagine him having what the omegaverse describes as heat (I believe that's what it's called), and during that time period, his urge to breed you, to fuck you senseless until you cry, to fill you up so much that a small bulge is appears on your lower abdomen.

During those times, his arms turn black, lines of gold tracing around them like it were a type of jewelry. His grip on you is rougher than before, his eyes revealing golden irises fit for a dragon as he slips right inside you, ready to eat you up like a predator to its prey.

Hope you have a great day, Meirin <3

good morning! i'm doing great!! how are you emi? i hope you're having a good day so far and- *sees 'nsfw', 'intimate sessions', and 'geo archon'*ー

baRK BORK BARK WOOF WOOF ARF ARF GRRRR AWOOO WHIMPERS HHHHH HOLY SHIT YES PLEASE HE CAN BREED ME AS MUCH AS HE WANTS-

ahem. oh my. how unbecoming of me. sorry about that. smut to start the weekend, ay? you are a woman of culture *nods sagely*

omegaverse seems to ick a lot of people but i personally love it for how it reimagines and touches on the feral and baser urges in humans so the concept of heat hit me hard dlsnskdldjflsjf yes i approve i volunteer to be his obedient lil cumdump whenever he's in heat thank u &lt;3

ohhh what if... what if he can smell your 'heat' too?

morax smelling your scent for the very first time and he knows he has to have you as his mate. you're so pretty and pliant for him, so sweet and caring and kind, so perfect to be his.

morax who tries so hard to be gentle to you in the beginning, pressing down his inner urges, tempering his draconic instinct to give you gentle touches instead so you won't feel overwhelmed or worse, fear him.

morax who smells your pheromones on your fertile days for the first time, and he just. s n a p s. when he sees you begging for him, pleading to be filled and bred and fucked into oblivion, telling him he doesn't have to hold back anymore, that you won't break because you were made for this, made for taking all of him and serving his needs.

and who is he to disobey his sweet mate?

he's so pretty like this, clothes utterly disheveled, hair a wild mess, geo lines pulsing erratically, amber eyes dilated as low growls and grunts escape his throat in his hurry to slip back into you, fangs nipping on your bruised skin yet again. you've lost count on how many times you cummed - or how many times he's cummed for that matter - and yet, he's still not showing any signs of stopping anytime soon.

you're sobbing and whimpering, eyes fluttering into a close as you lose grip on reality from the overstimulation, but your lover seems to have a different idea. a deep snarl followed by a hand tapping your cheek peels your heavy eyelids open, and you gaze at him with dazed eyes. 

"focus on me."

it's not a question nor a statement - it's an order.

slender, calloused fingers stray down to your neck, fingertips digging slightly into skin, and you shudder - the small burst of excitement making you clench around him. the corner of morax's lips twitch, and the appendage squeezes, just slightly, with enough pressure to make you gasp and squirm but not to completely cut off your windpipe. the power trip makes him groan in approval, and although you're mewling pitifully in response, he knows that you're enjoying this just as much that he does, with the hearts in your eyes and the way your hips shift to enable him to reach even deeper.

"you were right," your lover purrs, eyes pouring with equal amounts of love and lust, molten gold shining with adoration at the lewd way of your body splayed beneath him so helplessly like this, "this body of yours - no, you, all of you were made for me, sweetheart."

you cry out from the brutal pace he sets right after the endearing nickname leaves his lips, holding on for dear life as he grinds against that sweet spot inside you relentlessly. rumbling baritone fills your auditory senses, rendering your mind to a halt as he speaks right beside your ear.

"and i intend to thoroughly enjoy your whole being until i'm satisfied. you can take it all, can't you, my dearest?"

© shourin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask or dm me!

[graveyard-stray]

Cuddling with Tommy || Thomas Shelby x Reader drabble

GN reader, no pronouns or body parts are mentioned.

Word Count: 1K

Tags: insane amounts of fluff, like a little bit of angst, mentions of Thomas’s nightmares and PTSD, jealousy, brief NSFW mention

A/N this was meant to be like super short but then it ended up being 1K words so 💀

Thomas Shelby had never been a cuddler. He wasn’t super experienced in romance anyway as he more often had strictly sexual encounters and even those weren’t common for him. But when he finally met you he really wasn’t a big fan of cuddling, at first.

You on the other hand, were a big fan of cuddling. Of course you would never make him do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, but you wished he would hold you close while you layed in bed and fell asleep.

When you first started spending the night together you would usually just have sex and then go to sleep normally. You would gravitate towards him a bit but he never made an effort to wrap an arm around you or anything, not seeing a point to.

That was until one night. You were sound asleep when you felt a quick motion beside you and heavy breathing. You opened your eyes slowly and peered over to Tommy’s side of the bed. He was sat up and rubbing his hands over his face. His breathing was heavy and he was covered in sweat.

You quickly sat up and put a hand on his shoulder, “Tommy, are you alright?” You asked, your voice dripping with concern. He didn’t speak, just shook his head and tried to calm his breathing. “Did you have a nightmare?” You asked, although you already knew the answer.

Tommy nodded. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, one hand around his back and the other on his head as he moved to rest it on your shoulder. He really hated being vulnerable infront of others but in this moment, he cried into you. His tears wetting your shoulder as he wept. Your hand gently caressed his back, enabling him to let it all out.

He hadn’t said a word this entire time, which you understood. You didn’t expect him to speak, you hadn’t said anything either. He began to melt into you as he attempted to relax and calm his breathing.

“It’s alright Tommy. You’re safe now.” You whispered softly to him as he kissed the top of his head. He mumbled a thank you into your chest as you just held each other, one of your hands now combing through his hair, and both his arms around your torso.

After a little bit you noticed that Thomas had calmed down and fallen asleep. A smile appeared on your lips as you moved a bit so you could be laying down. You snuggled closer to Thomas and fell asleep still holding him.

From that day on Thomas became much more cuddly. Every night he wanted to fall asleep holding you (or if he had a shitty day, you holding him) and he noticed it really helped make the nightmares not as bad. Just knowing you were there made him feel more safe.

He becomes the most touchy and cuddly when he is jealous. You learned this after an event the Peaky Blinders were hosting. It was this formal evening and you were dressed in your finest clothes, you were sticking with Tommy the whole night, practically attached at the hip as you went along and kept to yourselves, except when he had to talk professionally to some random rich people you didn’t recognize.

At one point he broke off from you, “I’m sorry love I’ll be right back, Arthur needs me in private for a moment.” He excused himself, kissing your temple before walking off. You didn’t mind though, you knew how business was and could handle being by yourself for a couple of minutes.

You made your way to the desert table, taking a look at all the sweets and pastries they had out. As you contemplated what you wanted to grab you heard someone clear their throat behind you, clearly in an attempt to get your attention.

Assuming it was Tommy you swung around smiling, but you were met with the face of a man you had never seen before. “Oh I’m sorry, am I in your way?” You asked him, assuming he wanted a desert that you were blocking.

But he just shook his head. “No darling. Your quite alright. I really just wanted to come talk to you.” The man said with a smirk in his face. The way he looked you up and down made you uncomfortable, he looked as if you were a piece of meat and he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Oh, is there something business related you need? Cause that’s really more of Thomas’s terrain.” You had explained as you tried to back away from him. The man kept following though and attempting conversations with you, getting in return only short and annoyed responses from you.

After about 10 minutes (which felt like an hour for you) Tommy left his meeting with Arthur and came back looking for you. It took him a moment wandering before his eyes laid on you and, some man? He could see the discomfort in your body language and wasted no time marching over to you and getting in between you and the man.

Tommy looked sternly at him, “So sorry but me and my love were actually just leaving.” He scowled at the man who looked embarrassed and frightened, not even speaking a word and just scurrying away.

You thanked Tommy and he brushed it off, as if there was any world in which he wouldn’t have defended you from some creep. The rest of the night he had his arm around your waist protectively, keeping you close at all times.

That night once the guests were all gone and you got in bed, all he wanted to do was spoon you, his arms around your waist and his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. Even if you asked to get up to get a glass of water he just grumbled something that sounded a bit like a no and held you tighter.

It was quite cute honestly, how he went from a distant loner to the most clingy man you knew, and you wouldnt have it any other way.

[soullesserror]

Not ur DMs but oh man!! Do I have a character analysis to dump upon you. I’m not gonna do a ton of editing, but I do wish to share.

Oh bro, Q!Foolish is so cool as a character. Him and BBH are literally both insane in the exact same way, but with such different views on morality. It results in wildly different ideas of themselves and the world around them!

Foolish is selfish and he knows it, but he also loves his family dearly. He will do anything to protect the people he cares about even though that circle is pretty small. Anyone outside the circle is fair game tho. (BBH is an exception because he’s trusted, but Foolish and him love endangering each other for sport). By “fair game,” I mean Foolish will actively throw anyone under the bus just because he feels like it. Honestly doesn’t even have to be for any particular gain. He will absolutely do things just to see what happens. He acts like a morally grey immortal who doesn’t quite understand how normal people think anymore.

At the same time, a lot of his actions do have motives. A big part of his character is that Foolish just wants rare/unique items and will do nearly anything (including endanger others) to get them. He sees the island as a game to win, which makes it easy to not care about consequences for himself and others. He’s not malicious and he doesn’t seek to cause others pain, but will still do things knowing full well they could harm. He also fully accepts other people seeking retribution for his actions, because he’s got a “fair is fair” type mentality. He will simply deal with whatever consequences float his way for his actions.

Because Foolish is aware of his selfishness, he will never try and take a moral high ground. He doesn’t think he’s a morally just person, and he doesn’t care to be. He cares about chaos for the sake of fun, doing things to get him stuff, and protecting those he loves.

(Also, Foolish & Jaiden as people are both the embodiment of chaotic neutral. Everything they do together is fun as Jaiden enables the hell out of any idea Foolish has. Morality be damned, they just wanna be menaces for the sake of it.)

Also also, Foolish is actually smarter than he appears and presents himself. He’s actually a strategist at heart, but will only use it for his own personal gain and often under the table lol. He’s silly, but he uses that to play all fields and knows how to keep things secret. His behavior will often trick others into underestimating him, but unfortunately also leads to people fundamentally not understanding him or his motives.

Idk,, I stay spinning these Minecraft people in my brain like a microwave lol. I could probably give similar level analysis on a handful of my other main QSMP people, but yeah. Foolish is especially cool to me because people who have zero illusion about being morally fucked by normal standards are soooo interesting! It’s a very atypical way to aproach the world not giving a shit about morality while also being zero percent malicious. His /goal/ isn’t ever to hurt people for the sake of it, he’s just a means to an end kind of guy. He’s neat because about him and his explanation for his actions tends to embody a genuine sense of neutrality in the most insane way possible.

god this is so cool

I really want to watch more of Foolish’s vods to really get a grasp of him and I can’t really add onto this much at all but oh anon I appreciate so much. Thank you for this meal of a character analysis served on a silver platter

I think the type of morally grey Foolish is, is by the far the most fun to me. It’s that loyalty to these select few people and that loyalty will not change unless extreme circumstances causes it to. So so interesting. And also like. Him being friends with others but if given the popular he will screw them over? That’s hilarious. Good for him, doing things for the bit and for his own personal gain. I wouldn’t, probably, but selfish characters are soooooo… rotating around inside my head.

[lavendertales]

Loverboy || Dieter Bravo x f!reader**

summary: when a drunken Dieter makes a move on you, you start to realize that maybe he had the right idea all along.

word count: 4.8k

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol & weed; vaginal fingering, Dieter eats pussy like his life depends on it because I say so, edging, teasing, piv, cum play.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: something funny & silly for a funny & silly man. and also kinda filthy. but that’s besides the point. thank you @pedropascalsx​ for enabling me with your kindness and sweetness 💕

gif: @pascalsky​ 

Many found Dieter eccentric and over-the-top. You found that to be true as well. Though oddly enough, you rather enjoyed his fun persona.

In limited doses, that is.

You’re no stranger to his mood swings and odd requests; after all, you had started as his assistant four years ago, and now that you’ve become such close friends, you have also become the sole recipient of his theatrics and antics.

But you must say, tonight takes the cake.

When you received the call from Dieter’s current assistant, Dianne, you expected to hear the usual “could you please bring some brownies to the set, his blood sugar is low” request, not that he was drunk in the hotel room, relentlessly saying your name and asking to see you. You immediately said you’re on your way, an odd knot in your stomach. You’ve seen him in party mode before, but you have the feeling this isn’t one of those fun times.

Once you reach the hotel and ask for his room, going through the usual clarification that you are Dieter’s friend, you rush to his room, the knot tightening with each step you take.

Three knocks later, you’re met with Dianne’s face. And it doesn’t bring you any comfort.

“How is he?” you ask.

“Well, he’s been saying your name for the past half hour, insisting that he sees you.”

“Not much clarification there, Dianne.”

“See for yourself.”

The scent of alcohol and the pungent smell of weed invade your nostrils. You see the small-sized drinks from the minibar emptied on the floor, and a seemingly frantic Dieter waltzing around the room.

“Dieter?”

He turns abruptly to see you, his face lighting up as he rushes to your side to hug you tightly.

“Hey buddy,” you pat him nervously on the back. “What’s going on?”

“You’re actually here!”

“Hard not to when you’ve been chanting my name to the whole city for the past half hour.”

With a swift motion of his hands, Dieter gestures Dianne to leave, but she looks at you for confirmation. You exhale with a little chuckle, letting go of Dieter, yet keeping one of your hands around his waist to support him.

“It’s okay, Dianne, I can take it from here,” you smile at her. “Thank you for calling me.”

“You’re welcome,” Dieter smiles.

Now you got a clue about what’s ahead of you for the rest of the evening, and it’s not the prettiest image.

“I was talking to Dianne, honey.”

“Oh,” he pouts cutely.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you playfully pinch his cheek.

Dieter seems oddly proud of himself with that statement, in spite of his lack of proper balance. You silently thank Dianne as she rushes out of the room, and you sigh out loud. One look at Dieter and you just know you’ll have a tough time putting him down for a clearly much needed sleep.

“Okay, so… what’s going on?” you ask instead. “I know you’re no stranger to parties, but even a man with your expertise in fun knows you shouldn’t mix alcohol and weed.”

“And why not?!”

“Because it’ll make you puke. And I have the feeling I will be the one stuck with the cleaning.”

Dieter giggles upon seeing your disgusted face, and sits on the edge of the bed. He sighs, dramatically staring into the distance, and you finally get a good look at him. He’s disheveled, messier than usual; his bathrobe is open, and he wears nothing but boxer shorts. You’ve definitely seen him in worse shape, but you’re not a big fan of the drained color his skin has taken.

“Come on, D, what’s going on? You’re not usually like this,” you try to coax him. “Why did you keep asking to see me?”

In the midst of harshly rubbing his eyes, Dieter stands back up again, slightly losing balance. You rush to catch him, tying back his robe in the process.

“Because you’re the only one who can help me,” he says.

“With what?”

“She dumped me!”

Out of nowhere, Dieter begins sobbing, and truthfully, you’re not equipped to handle that. He falls into your arms, and you try to console him, though it doesn’t seem to be working.

“I assume you mean Cynthia,” you say whilst patting his back.

“Yes of course I mean Cynthia, who else!”

“I don’t know, you tend to… get by a lot.”

Dieter pulls away to frown at you for a second, then falls back at your chest.

You were never a fan of any of Dieter’s conquests. He certainly gets by a lot, and you’ve seen more than what you bargained for, but none of them ever seem to stay. Sure, Dieter can be a lot, but underneath that womanizing and arrogant exterior, you know him to be a sweet, passionate and funny man. And yes, he isn’t bad on the eyes either.

Getting off topic here, pipe it down.

“So what happened?” you ask, caressing his hair now.

“She said I’m selfish in bed. Me! Can you believe that?!”

You hesitate. “Well, honey, I can’t say for sure, I haven’t gotten the chance to… test the engine, as it were.”

You laugh nervously, then Dieter raises his head much too fast and stares at you with excitement, like the best idea in the world just crossed his mind.

“Would you like to?”

Shock rushes through your body as well. “Excuse me, what?”

“Oh, this is actually perfect! This way, you can know for sure and tell me—what it is what I’m doing wrong! You can tell me if I’m selfish or not, or if that chick is just lying through her teeth.”

You frown, mouth ajar and mind filled with unwanted imagery. You clear your throat, trying to remain as calm as possible, and you move further away from him to clear your head.

“Do you hear the words that come out of your mouth?”

“I tend to be a doer rather than a thinker,” Dieter says with a coy smile on his face. “You could find that out, you know.”

“Okay, let’s—let’s take a step back. You’re drunk and high in a hotel room, recently dumped, and you’re asking your friend for pity sex. Does that sound normal to you?”

“You forgot something.”

“What?”

“Horny. I am also horny. So. With that in mind. Do you want to have sex with me?”

Your frown only deepens, and you quickly come to the conclusion that Dieter won’t budge.

“I appreciate you asking at least,” you say in the most monotone voice ever.

“Of course! See, Cynthia doesn’t know shit. I am very considerate.”

“And modest, too.”

Dieter giggles, clearly taking your sarcasm as nothing more but a sincere compliment. And given the current state he’s in, why ruin things for him?

“Look, D, I’ve been with you through it all. I was there for you when you said you were snubbed at the Oscars the first time you were nominated.”

“I was snubbed that year.”

“Of course you were. I was there for you when you thought somebody was trying to poison you because you were getting ‘too famous’ and they were jealous of you. I was there for you when you had, and I quote, ‘itchy balls’ and you insisted I take a look at your equipment.”

“I did have—“

“Anyway, I was there for you through all of that and more. But asking me to have sex with you because you’re lonely isn’t going to be one of those times.”

Dieter inches closer to you, a pout dominating his facial expression.

“But why not?” he whines.

“Because it’s weird!”

You exchange a bizarre look with him, and oh, how you wish he’d just let this go already. But if there’s anyone more determined and overly-confident than regular Dieter, is intoxicated Dieter.

“Is this about my penis?” he asks, all too seriously.

“What? No! At least I hope so.”

“Cause if it is, you don’t have to worry about it, it was just an allergic reaction. I am good to go. Ask Cynthia. Actually don’t ask her, she can go suck a lemon for all I care—“

Ah, chatty Dieter, right on time.

“This is not about your penis,” you clarify. “Although technically I guess it is, but that’s not the point. No, Dieter, I won’t have sex with you.”

Defeated, Dieter falls back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “It was worth a shot. Out of everyone I know… you’re the most perfect person I know.”

You search for his eyes, trying to find an explanation inside of them.

“What do you mean?”

He takes a deep breath, and up he stands again. “You know me the best. You’re always here…”

You take his hands into yours, hoping for the first time that night that he will remember something from tonight.

“You’re drunk and upset.”

“And horny.”

“And horny, okay. So no, I won’t have sex with you. Not like this.”

His face lights up, but you’re quick to continue, “What I meant was, why don’t you eat something to soak up the booze, have a quickie with your hand, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re not staying?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

He doesn’t offer you a verbal confirmation. Instead, he cups your cheeks and pulls you into a tender kiss. You are surprised, to be sure, yet you can’t help but melt into the kiss. You can feel your face burn crimson with flattery, and when the kiss is broken, disappointment is the next thing to surprise you.

“I do want you to stay, yes,” Dieter confirms.

You clear your throat again, as if that would somehow hide the redness of your cheeks.

“Just to be clear, in this scenario, there’s no hand quickie. And before you ask, not from me, not from yourself.”

Upset, Dieter nods in agreement, watching your every movement across the room. He feels the concoction of substances diminish their lingering effects on him, starting to sober up and see things in a whole new light.

Maybe this breakup is just what he needed after all.

Damn, he hates it when the drugs wear off.

The moment of euphoria and subsequent shoveling down of feelings has long passed, and all that Dieter has now is a hangover, a sentiment of disappointment and a throbbing headache.

He turns around and nearly gasps out loud when he sees you coming out of the bathroom. He says your name in the most confusing manner, and you smile.

“Morning, sunshine!”

Dieter makes a face, much to your amusement, and you decide, in the spur of the moment, to spare him from opening the curtains.

“That was way too loud,” he complains.

“Sorry. How are you feeling?”

He stands up halfway and stares at you with the most unimpressed glare, hair a complete mess. You refrain yourself from giggling.

“Sorry again,” you say. “There’s a sandwich for you on the nightstand, next to a cup of coffee and water to take the Advil with.”

“Oh, God bless you.”

Dieter practically jumps out of bed to eat and take the cure against the nasty headache, all under your studious eyes.

You’ve spent the night barely breathing, replaying that kiss over and over in your head. You probably shouldn’t have, but it was Dieter’s fault. If he didn’t want you thinking about it, then maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you.

Now that doesn’t make any fucking sense.

It was a momentary lack of judgment. No, scratch that. It was poor judgment on his part. And on yours, since you stupidly reciprocated the kiss.

Bottom line is, there shouldn’t have been any kissing. He wasn’t in a good mental place and he needed some attention.

Yeah, that was it. No big deal.

“So…” you clear your throat and look over at him, making sure he’s taking the Advil. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

On the edge of the bed and with the much needed coffee in his hand, Dieter ponders over last night. He remarks the fact that he’s only in his underwear, which raises some questions.

“I know I was upset about Cynthia, but… everything else is a blur,” he admits, slightly confused.

“Right. Right. Uh… oof. Okay.”

“Did something happen?”

You falter, and it only makes him more concerned. “Did it?!” he insists.

“No! No. No reason to worry.”

“Oh. That’s good then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. But uh… you did ask to see me. Repeatedly. In fact, from what Dianne told me, you’ve been saying my name on a loop, demanding I’d come here.”

It’s all starting to come back to Dieter, slowly yet surely, and what do you know, the embarrassment rises.

“Oh yeah… damn it, you can’t keep any secret from Dianne.”

“You can’t.”

Dieter frowns, albeit your chuckle. “But don’t blame her, it’s her job. She’s your assistant after all.”

“You were my assistant once. And look at you now.”

“Yeah, great development on my part. Listen.”

You sit on the bed next to him, unsure how to proceed with your confession.

“When I came here last night, you were… in pretty bad shape. Upset and drunk and… apparently horny…”

“I didn’t take my penis out and start doing the helicopter again, did I?”

“When did you ever—you know what, nevermind, I don’t wanna know. Stop talking about your penis. I’ve heard enough about it. And the one time I’ve seen it wasn’t pleasant.”

Dieter conforms, remaining silent for the time being. It’s a premiere, given how he always finds a way to make things about himself.

“What I meant to say is, after I got here, you told me about the breakup and then you kind of… kissed me.”

Still speechless, Dieter starts trying to remember the exact moment you mentioned. Suddenly, his throat feels drier than the desert, his own boxer briefs chafing against his skin like the most uncomfortable piece of clothing.

“Uh—“he contemplates, visibly disheveled still.

“It’s not a big deal,” you try to coax him. “You were not in the best shape and you were seeking comfort and—“

“Sorry about that.”

“Pshh. No need to apologize. It—it was—it was a nice kiss. Very… very nice.”

You didn’t expect to get flustered, truth be told, and it completely sneaks up on you. You feel your cheeks get flushed, looking away from Dieter as you try to not appear affected by the memory of that kiss.

And how it definitely did not haunt you in your sleep last night.

How did this happen? Were those some dormant feelings that the kiss had awakened? Did you always feel this way about this ridiculously dramatic man and you didn’t even realize it?

On some level, you suppose it makes sense. You’ve always been there for each other, through the wildest, best and worst moments in each other’s lives and at the end of the day, you stayed.

“Not to brag, but I have kissed plenty before and have been kissed. I know what I’m doing,” Dieter shrugs to your amusement.

“Clearly,” you smile.

“So… did that do anything for you or?”

Baffled, you search his face in order to determine whether he’s serious or not. But the rather smug smile on his face, paired with his wide, puppy eyes are a recipe for impending trouble.

“Are you—are you being serious right now?” you can’t help but ask.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

You get the sudden urge to stand up and walk around the room, unable to stare into his eyes for too long.

“Because! Because you’re you! You’re the most ridiculous, theatrical man I have ever met! Even your name, I mean come on, who has a name like that?!”

Dieter frowns, hands intertwined in his lap. “I do.”

“That’s my point! I mean, you’re fun and eccentric and… we’re friends. Just because you kissed me when you felt lonely and I’ve spent the whole night thinking about it doesn’t mean anything.”

The words erupt from your mouth faster than you can catch onto them. You stop abruptly, on account of Dieter’s facial expression.

“You—“he begins, but you’re quickly making a motion to dismiss the rest of his question.

“Let’s pretend like I didn’t just say that,” you smile nervously, avoiding his glare and the mention of your name. “Nope, we’re not doing this.”

“But you said—“

“I did not say anything, okay? I did not say anything about that goddamn kiss, and you did not hear it because I didn’t say it.”

“Who’s the weirdo now?”

You keep pacing around the room, like that would bring you some sort of comfort. Except it does not. It only exasperates you and makes you feel like the worst type of human being ever.

Though why should you feel that way? Sure, hearing Dieter confess—more or less—that he’s into you is surprising, but… what if it’s just a pretext to get in your pants? You don’t want this to be a one night stand. You’re—friends. You care about the man.

“What kind of game are you playing?” you ask, hands on your hips and eyes narrow in his direction.

Surprised, Dieter makes an offended face, hands frozen mid-air. “There’s no game, what are you on about?”

“I am on about the fact that you’re… a very sociable person—“

“This better not be a stab at the time I was going around asking men and women if they wanted to sleep with me.”

“Calm the hell down, this is not about you being bi.”

“I’m not—oh! Huh. I guess I am.”

“Yeah, good morning. Anyway, we’re friends, and if this is just something to get the edge off, I’m not interested.”

Dieter approaches you, and you notice the immediate shift in his facial expression. He’s not coy, nor arrogant, nothing. Matter of fact, he seems sympathetic and—normal.

“I know we’re friends or whatever, but you gotta realize we are both hot people in their prime and it would be a shame to not act upon it,” he says.

Spoke too soon.

“And I think you’re like, the greatest person I know, and… you’re perfect.”

Oh.

“I’m far from perfect,” you say, despite the crimson burn in your cheeks indicating flattery.

“You’re already there.”

You chuckle nervously, almost too flustered to even look at him; but once you do, you see his face radiating with enthusiasm and an almost child-like neediness that brings you to your knees.

“I’m not,” you almost whisper, distraught by your own thoughts and emotions, particularly the kiss’ memory haunting you yet again.

“But you are.”

He says that whilst his face dares inch closer to yours and you can’t really hold it together anymore.

Okay, so it might be possible that you’ve been nesting feelings for this man for quite some time.

“Don’t overthink this,” you warn him.

Dieter blinks several times, his smile fading once you cup his cheeks and pull him closer to you, pressing your lips against his. And then all you know is a raging fire.

This is insane. It’s just wild how insatiable you feel all of a sudden because of one silly little kiss that now turns sloppy and wet. And you know you probably shouldn’t be doing this because he might still be hungover, but it feels too good to stop.

Especially when you feel his hands going from your arms to your hips, then shifting so that he fondles your breasts. You moan into the kiss, and you moan some more as his lips leave a wet trail down your jaw and neck, stopping there to suck on a spot that makes you irrationally wet.

“Wait, wait a minute,” you barely manage to whisper.

Dieter keeps going with his ministrations over your breasts and your neck, barely hearing you. It’s only when you tap his shoulder a few times that he lifts his head from where he previously was, his messy hair all over the place, much like the man himself.

“You’re killing me here,” Dieter complains.

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Dieter frowns. “No offense, but what the hell are you on, woman?”

You snicker, huffing and trying to gather your thoughts.

“You’ve had a pretty rough night last night,” you say. “You were in a pretty vulnerable spot and if this is a way to make yourself better, then we’ll screw this up for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say for nothing—“

Upon seeing your face, Dieter sports a coy smile, staring at your lips all the while.

“I’m doing great,” he tells you. “A little confused after some stuff I did last night, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I figured.”

“Point is, we’re both here, and we’re both in need for some attention… would you please just let me fuck you?”

You nearly choke on air when you hear that. It’s the way he says it, so carelessly, so needy and yet so tender that makes you weak.

“So I can tell you if you’re being selfish in bed like Cynthia said?” you ask just as coyly.

Dieter smirks. The son of a bitch, of course he does.

“So we can start the day right and let me prove to you that I am worthy of having you.”

He doesn’t really wait for you to offer any other response and just smashes his mouth on yours, far greedier than before. You embrace it this time, giving in completely.

His tongue darts inside your mouth, boldly touching spots you weren’t even aware could turn you on, but they do. It’s already filthy by default, but you wouldn’t expect anything less from the man. His calloused hands dominate your body as he switches you both so that he’s on top. Luckily for him, he’s still in the underwear and robe from last night, so there isn’t much effort required on his part to dispose of the materials standing in the way of pure bliss.

So his attention shifts solely on you. He looks in a trance as you undress yourself, slightly self-conscious and hyper aware of what you’re about to do. But Dieter’s not a very patient or organized man; the next thing you know, he’s harshly pulling on your panties, dragging them down your legs and throwing them somewhere carelessly. You stifle a gasp, followed by holding your breath when Dieter stands before you, naked and fully erect.

Shit.

Frankly, you hadn’t expected him to be so well-endowed—since the only memory you have of his private parts is not one you’d like to recall—and your facial expression aids you in no way in trying to conceal your surprise.

“See something you like?” Dieter asks conceitedly.

“Don’t ruin the moment,” you say and pull him down to kiss him again.

You run his fingers through his messy hair, the same hair that Dieter asked you one too many times to hold while he was throwing up, and you realize just how much you’ve craved this subconsciously. It feels right—in all the bizarre ways.

And your body knows that, too: you arch your back against the sheets as his lips travel down the curves of your body, fast approaching your navel and inevitably, your most sensitive area.

Without any warning, you feel his tongue diving right in, spreading your legs in the process and grunting, taking his first sip of your growing arousal. You start to doubt everything there ever was between you and Dieter, realizing that maybe there was a little more boiling underneath the “friends” shield you put up.

“Fuck, your pussy’s good,” you hear him say from in between your legs.

Now that’s more in tone with his persona.

You can only mewl and huff in between licks, unable to move your eyes away from the sight of him buried in your most sensitive spot. You watch, lost in a magnetic trance, slowly beginning to feel that oh-so-desired burn spread throughout your body, settling in your lower belly.

“Oh, shit—shitshitshit—“

Dieter grins, boldly adding two fingers to his ministration over your cunt; he pumps them speedily in and out, curling them and smiling some more when your mouth forms the perfect O, stuck on an endless loop of auditory pleasure. The pressure he applies, paired with the occasional licks and obscene slurps, conspire against you and your sanity.

Your mouth waters, your breaths hitch and your body aches, badly needing to cum.

And just like that, the pressure and the buildup are gone.

You stare at him bewildered, demanding an explanation. But once again, Dieter proves to live up to his name and reputation: he licks his fingers under your careful supervision, and you nearly crumble on the spot.

“Not making a valid point in your ‘not being selfish’ case,” you murmur, still reeling from having your pleasure taken away from you so abruptly.

“Trust me,” Dieter grins, and wraps his hand around his cock.

He gives himself a few strokes, his eyes never leaving your overly-stimulated pussy. The sight of you lying there before him, legs spread and thighs glistening with arousal he had created has him weaker and more turned on than he would’ve ever thought.

By the time he fits the bulbous tip past your soaked lips—just the tip, nothing more yet—you moan louder, and even Dieter can’t help himself.

“You like this, hm?” he teases, and you nod frantically. “Fuck, you’re dripping onto me, babe… did I get you this worked up?”

Dieter keeps pushing the tip in, then taking it out and doing it over and over. He’s clearly toying with you, testing you to see how much you can take before you snap, and hell, it’s working.

But you don’t say it: instead, the next time he fits the tip past your lips, you clench around it, hard. The notable expression on his face makes it worth the effort, and you’re the one who smiles this time around.

“What, you think you’re the only one who can play?” you tease him in return, grinning.

“Fine. Fuck it. I’m done playing.”

And he means it.

He pushes into you, filling you up to the brim and smiling to himself when your mouth remains ajar at the pleasurable shock you feel in your body. He’s big and thick and Jesus, you could come just by sitting like that. But of course, this isn’t what an actor and man of his size and reputation does.

Dieter grabs hold of your thighs and starts railing you as fast as he can. The only sounds left now in the room are your respective breaths, grunts and moans, and the glib sounds emerging from where your bodies are joined. His balls slap against your ass and his cock pushes deeply inside you, reaching a spot even you haven’t found on your most adventurous and lonely nights.

No more teasing from either of your sides, just neediness in the form of rough and filthy sex. One of his hands boldly reaches to play with your right breast, squeezing it and then pinching the nipple till it pebbles under his touch. He could easily start slobbering over the filthy imagery the two of you are creating, but he holds it in.

Unlike his orgasm, which arrives rapidly and almost unexpectedly.

He pulls out just as you reach to play with your clit, your motions fast and eager to reach your own high. He strokes himself to completion, spilling his seed all over your tummy and breasts, and a little over your open mouth too. When he sees you cheekily removing the excess cum from your chest and taking it to your mouth after having just played with yourself too, he feels his cock twitch and hurt in agony and ecstasy alike.

“You like it dirty, don’t you?” Dieter asks with half a smile, nearly out of breath.

You shrug, blissfully reeling from your orgasm. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Dieter collapses next to you, struggling to catch his breath. Then he turns to you, curiosity getting the best of him yet again.

“So?” he asks.

“What?”

“Am I selfish in bed or not?”

You chuckle. “I can safely say you’re not.”

You hear him exhale, clearly feeling at ease, and you chuckle again.

“Although it would’ve been good to come when you were inside of me,” you add.

You know that strikes a chord with his ego. When he turns to face you, appearing insulted, you are proven correct.

“The day just started,” Dieter seems to warn.

“Think you can go again?”

“Woman, I can and will fuck you till your eyes go into the back of your head.”

You both smile, pleasantly surprised by your respective reactions.

��Whatever happened to your fear about this friendship?” Dieter checks, mentally preparing himself.

“Eh, we weren’t that close anyway. How can you ruin a friendship with sex?”

“Let’s find out.”