#there's probably a million things i've forgotten but

[lostmykeysie]

so i disappeared for three months because i was going through a divorce!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! my muse up and left me!!!!! i was left with our two kids, the missing link and two knights defence, not to mention our eldest, the horcrux hunt, who despite being complete still needs some help. it was overwhelming and it came out of nowhere and i've now sworn off women, but if you know any hot sexy singles in the area to help me take my mind off it, please send them in my direction and i will make an exception, or possibly many many exceptions, because i love women

in other news, i just posted the final chapter of the missing link

[m00nlight-ramblings]

I Wanna Be Yours

(I've had this idea since I've seen like, a million 80's movies in succession). You're close to valedictorian, a known smarty-pants. So imagine your surprise when you become friends with Eddie Munson...and then fall in love with him.

Pairing: Eddie x female reader, friends x lovers, dual pov

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), swearing

*MINORS DNI*

Word Count: 4.16k

REMINDER: My inbox is open so please request some stuff because I'm dying to write!

"Oh, fuck where is it?" You loudly murmured, shuffling the books in your locker. They clanged around, sending soft bonk! noises and reverberations through your locker, which only made you more annoyed. You huffed, dropping your arms by your side. You only had a few minutes before you had to be in class, and you couldn't find your fucking book.

You groaned and started the process again, knowing you'd probably be fruitless - you've only checked like, 100 times, so at this point you'd just have to accept the fact that you'd somehow forgotten it at home. It also didn't help that your locker was stacked to the brim with books, folders, papers, and miscellaneous things you've collected in just a month since school started

"Um...you okay?" A voice asked behind you, startling you out of your frustrated trance. You turned to see Eddie Munson standing there, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear and tilting his head. Slightly embarrassed, you shrugged and huffed (again).

"Yeah I just...can't find my chemistry book. And I have class in-" You checked your watch, "Seven minutes." (And it also just so happened that chemistry was your worst class so you like, really needed this damn book).

"Want me to check?" He offered, gesturing to the locker. You paused a moment, and furrowed your brow. Then, you stepped aside, giving him access to your locker. He stepped forward, leaning into the locker and started gently exploring.

"Yeah, you can try but I don't think you'll find it. I've checked, like, a hundred times and I think I just left it at home and-"

"Here it is! Chemistry you said, right? You're looking for..." Eddie took a moment to examine the cover of the book. With a boisterous (and very silly) voice, he spoke, "Chemistry 301: Principles of Organic Chemistry?"

You gasped and smiled at him, snatching the book from him and staring at it. How did he find it? "Oh my god, are you kidding? I've been looking for this thing for like, 10 minutes. Where was it?!"

Eddie chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly, "Right in the front."

You looked at him, "I could hug you right now, oh my god! Chemistry is my worst subject and I can't even focus in that class if I don't have the book with me and...ugh. You're a life saver. Thank you." You beamed, hopping on your toes a little.

You and Eddie never really spoke, but of course knew each other - everyone in Hawkins did. Having a few classes with him over the years, any conversation you ever had with him was in passing. But after him your book for you, and seeing his smile..."The Freak" didn't actually seem all that freaky at all.

"Yeah, well, no worries. I'm just a good ole knight in shining armor, I guess." He bashfully made a face, causing you to giggle. "Actually...I just wanted to come over and thank you for something."

Confused, you cocked my head to the side, "Thank me?"

Eddie nodded, stepping aside so you could close your locker, "Yeah. I heard from Wheeler the other day that he dropped all his books and shit in the hallway and you helped him grab everything," His smile was soft...if you weren't looking so hard at his face (why were you staring?), you'd have missed it, "That was nice. So...thanks."

You nodded, mirroring the small smile. "Wheeler as in...Mike Wheeler? The freshman?" You thought back to a few days ago, "Yeah...he said he tripped, but Craig from the football team was lurking around so I have a feeling Mike didn't trip all by himself," I rolled my eyes, "People can be dicks sometimes so...anyway. I know what it's like to be a freshman." You slowly started to walk to class, Eddie following in line next to you.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Eddie cleared his throat and spoke again, "So...chemistry's not your best subject, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, "Definitely not. I hate it...it's so hard. My favorite class is English."

"English? Hey, mine too. What's your favorite book?"

You pause, furrowing your brows again, "...don't laugh."

He throws his hands up in an "I'm innocent" movement, "Cross my heart."

You take a moment before you speak, "I like 'The Hobbit'. I've read it, like, a million times. I re-read it like, once a year-"

"'The Hobbit'? I like that one too!" Eddie smiled widely, "...do you listen to Led Zeppelin by any chance?"

You laugh, "Are you about to tell me that 'Ramble On' was inspired by 'The Hobbit?" You watch his eyes widen slightly.

"You know that already?"

You nod, "My dad loves them. Has all their records. He can't help but spit out random fun facts about that stuff. I like them, too," You find yourself in front of your chemistry class, "Well...this is me. Thanks for finding my book again, Eddie."

He leans his shoulder against the wall and smiles. You notice his eyes flicker quickly to your lips and back to your eyes again before he speaks, "No problem. Thanks for helping Wheeler. I'll...see you around, I guess?"

You nod, looking back at him while you head into class, "Definitely."

And that was the start of you and Eddie.

Eddie didn't know what had come over him that day, helping you out at your locker. Wheeler had mentioned once that you seemed cool (Henderson enthusiastically agreed), and ever since then, he was convinced he had to thank you. Not just because you had helped his friend (which was cool), but also...had you always been that pretty?

Sure, you two didn't seem to have anything in common - you were known for being one of the smartest kids in school, with like 1,000 extracurriculars, bound for some Ivy League on the East Coast, and Eddie was...well, Eddie. Now in his third try at being a senior, school wasn't necessarily his strongest subject. But, you hadn't ever played in him being a freak, and always seemed kind so...he figured it would be safe to thank you for being so nice to his friend.

Because that's all he wanted to do...was thank you. That was all. Definitely not flirt with you or anything.

After that moment at your locker, Eddie seemed to run into you everywhere - lunch period, the hallway, even the mall that one time he actually went because he needed to pick up some D&D books from the bookstore. And slowly but surely, "running into each other" turned into:

"What do you mean she's just watching?" Dustin asked one day, setting up the drama room for Hellfire Club, "You never let people just watch. They always have to play. Is she going to play?"

"No, Dustin, for the hundredth time explaining, she is not playing. She is watching. Do you have a problem with her? Mortal enemies or something?"

Dustin eyed Eddie and shrugged, eventually going back to setting the table up, "No I just...you never let people watch..." He starts to grumble, "I guess in order to watch you need to have boobs, or something..."

That night at the game, Eddie wasn't his best DM self. He was distracted - probably had to do with the hours of homework he "needed to do", and definitely wasn't because you were there, sitting next to him, intently watching the game and reacting. It definitely didn't have anything to do with your cute gasps, or little squeals, or laughter whenever something happened.

Definitely not, at all.

At one point in the game, you tapped him on the shoulder. He leaned into you, not taking his eyes off of the rest of Hellfire Club, who were currently engrossed in trying to figure out their next strategy.

"Yes, m'lady?" Eddie asks in a British accent.

"Wouldn't Henderson's character be able to go through that door? Like...isn't he really charismatic? So like...can't he convince the guard to let them pass? I know he's not like, the main dude in the game or whatever but..." Your voice trails off as you realize that maybe you were too off base. You didn't really know the game at all, but that seemed right...right?

Eddie nodded slowly and his eyes darted over to you quickly...you were right. Holy shit...you were right, and Eddie totally didn't see this lapse in judgement. He smiled at you and took note of how his heart seemed to flip into his stomach, sending a quick shiver down his spine.

Shit. He was in trouble.

"Eddie, can you turn it down a little bit? I'm trying to concentrate." You groaned slightly, shifting your head in your hand as your eyes scan the textbook in front of you. Not that it's really doing anything since you can't seem to retain any information at the moment.

Eddie, who was currently practicing his air guitar solo to Metallica's "Ride the Lightning", gave three quick headbangs before turning down the music, but immediately went back to air guitar.

"Aren't I supposed to be helping you with your science homework?" You asked, a little annoyance rising, "If you're gonna be distracted, I'm gonna go home. I have like, a million college brochures to go through and-"

"No! No!" He immediately stops and stands at attention like a soldier, salute and everything, "Okay. I'll stop." He jumps on the bed next to you, sending a pencil fly in the air. He caught it and stuck it behind his ear, "Okay. Science!" He clapped his hand and rubs them together like a mad scientist.

You chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, gently shoving his shoulder beside you. "Okay, so, when dealing with organism structure, you have to remember that everything is made up of cells, right? So when thinking of specialized parts of the body-" You look up to see him staring at you, definitely not paying attention to what you're saying. "Eddie..."

He snaps to attention and smiles bashfully, "Sorry. I'm...distracted?" His eyes dart to your lips again and your heart does that annoying "pounding in your chest" thing it does basically every time Eddie looks at you.

"Do you want to be a senior for a fourth time?"

He playfully shakes his head, "Nope. Definitely not."

"What's got you so distracted, anyway? Thinking about your date with Mindi tomorrow?" You probed him a bit, trying to get more information out of him. When you had become friends with Eddie, he definitely had his fair share of..."girlfriends". Which at first, you didn't mind.

Not that you minded now, but...five months after initially becoming friends with him, you would just prefer if you were his girlfriend.

Eddie's face flushed and he looked away, throwing the pencil behind his ear on to his dresser across the room, "Oh, Mindi? No, I...cancelled that. Like, a week ago." He suddenly got off of the bed and started to pace around his bedroom a little. I watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Why? Weren't you like, so excited to take her to the movies? You said she was soooOoo hot and blah blah blah-"

"I'm just not interested in her anymore." He interrupted you, stopping his pacing. He turned to face you and didn't break eye contact, his eyes seemingly staring into your brain.

Did he know? Did he know how you had fallen for him?

It started slowly, in a way you didn't even recognize - he made you laugh more than other people, you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, and he was so kind...not only to you, but to his friends, and even your parents when he'd come to pick you up on a Friday night with the group. He'd always come to the door, always make small talk with your mom. Not only that, but he was a gentleman, which surprised you - opened doors, pulling out your chair...

Not to mention, when it was late at night and you couldn't sleep, you couldn't help your thoughts turn to his hands in your hair, his dick inside of you, whispering your name over and over again.

The sudden realization that you were falling in love with him slapped you hard in the face - one day after school, you two were walking to his van for a ride home and someone's car blew past you in the parking lot, seemingly out of nowhere. You were about to step out but Eddie pulled you back, your body immediately pressing against his, your face mere inches from each other.

The air was electric, and you couldn't look away from his eyes. Finally, he spoke, "...you okay?" His voice was husky, low. It sent goosebumps down your arms, which were currently being held by Eddie's. You could only nod, words escaping you. Finally, Eddie broke the spell by screaming at the car, "JESUS CHRIST YOU PIECE OF SHIT WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING BEFORE YOU FUCKING KILL SOMEONE!"

Back in his room, you eyed him. "Why aren't you interested in her anymore?" You asked quietly, sensing the air shift. It felt more tense, more heavy.

What the fuck was going on?

Eddie, seemed to zone out for a second, taking a piece of his hair and chewing on it lightly. His eyes were focused on the floor, "Maybe...I think because...I'm interested in someone else?" It came out as a question, not a statement.

You swallowed hard. He was acting strange. Your heart started to beat strong enough that you heard it in your head. "...who are you interested in, then?" You asked. You took the textbook you were reading and closed it, putting it on his bedside table. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Please be me, please be me, please be me! Your brain was shouting so loud you were surprised he couldn't hear it.

Eddie looked up at you quickly and then back down again, his face unreadable. Which was concerning, because Eddie's face was always an animated as a Muppet.

Was it hot in here?

Taking a step forward, he was standing at the foot of the bed now. It seemed like he was thinking...hard. "I..."

Before he could even start, he finished. The single word hung in the air, causing your heart to race even faster and your head to swim. You WHAT, Eddie? You felt like you were about to lose your mind. Was he going to say it or not? Were you going to find out, or not?

"I'MINLOVEWITHYOU." You said loudly, the words spilling out of your mouth before you could even stop them. You gasped and clapped your hand over your mouth, hoping that somehow that action would suck the words back in, as if it never happened. Eddie's head snapped up and he stared at you. The air had been sucked out of the room in one fell swoop, and you could feel embarrassed tears prickle at your eyes. "Oh, god, Eddie...I-I-"

Oh no...what had you done? You had just ruined something between you and one of your closest friends. No more movie nights, no more homework sessions, no more late night phone conversations-

In a single motion, Eddie was on top of you, his lips crashing into yours. You didn't have time to even think, but your hands immediately found their way into his hair, cradling his scalp as he pressed his body into yours. You gasped at his initial contact but quickly found yourself melting into the kiss. Eddie moaned into your mouth, his tongue gently asking permission to open. Once granted, he hungrily kissed you, pressing your back into the bed.

"Eddie..." You breathed as you pulled back a bit, looking at him. He smirked and started to pepper your chin with gentle kisses, a far cry from the kiss that had started the whole thing.

"Mmmmyes?" His eyes were twinkling as he looked at you. Suddenly he pulled back, his mouth agape, "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No-" You almost shouted, "No, I-"

"I love you too." He said quickly, a flush coming to his face, "I...love you too. I have. For a while."

You smile, heart feeling like it's about to explode. You pulled him back into a kiss, using your tongue to explore his immediately. He moaned, pressing his groin into yours. You felt an instant rush of wetness to your panties as your hands found their way to the nape of his neck. Eddie pulled away from the kiss, his hand gently finding it's way to the top of your pants. He looked at you and you nodded, and he quickly undid the button, pulling them down, exposing your pink cotton underwear, which you felt was already starting to soak through.

Eddie hissed as he slid down your body, pressing his mouth to the wet spot on your underwear. You gasped lightly, watching him. He was quite beautiful - his hair starting to dampen with sweat at the hairline, his eyes shimmery, hungry for you. He pressed his tongue down flat on your wet spot once - teasingly - and leaned up again, removing his shirt.

Your head was still swimming as he fully pulled your pants off at your ankles, gently spreading your legs, and pushing your underwear aside. He laid on his stomach, getting comfortable, and wrapped your legs on his shoulders. He quickly glanced up at you, his eyes dark.

"Your pussy is so fucking beautiful." He said, his voice a low growl. His voice caused you to whimper slightly, and before you could even think, his tongue was moving in action, teasing your clit in small, wet motions.

"Oh, fuck, Eddie-" You couldn't think as the pleasure started to rise.

"You're already so wet for me, princess," He said, going back to your clit again. He paused to pull your underwear off but was quickly back in your pussy, moaning as if he was eating a delectable meal. He switched between quick, teasing moments, and flattening his tongue against the entirety of your pussy. You weren't sure if it was because he was just that good, or if it was because you had quite literally been dreaming of this moment for a while, but after a few minutes, you felt the coil in your lower belly start to tighten.

"Fuck Eddie...you feel so fucking good. I-I-I'm close, I think-"

"Come for me." He spoke into your pussy, suddenly slipping a finger in. Slowly at first, he started to finger you, curving his finger in an upwards motion while inside. You shrieked, immediately grabbing his hair with both hands. He responded by growling into your mound, concentrated on sending you over the edge.

Suddenly, the coil snapped and you moaned his name, no longer in control of what came out of your mouth. Your head was swimming with hot pleasure, beads of sweat gathering on your temple as your hips bucked into his mouth. Eddie slipped his finger out and gave your clit a final, gentle kiss before he slid out from under your legs and sat on his knees. He stared at you and started to shake his head, smiling.

"So fucking sexy..." He murmured, unbuckling his pants. Quickly, you reached up to help him and he looked at you.

"Just trying to get your pants off faster," You said, a blush rising to you.

"And why's that?"

"I need you. To fuck me. Right now." You said, dragging his pants down. He chuckled and stood up, shaking his pants down to his ankles. The length of his cock sprung up in his boxers, creating a tent that your eyes immediately fell on. He paused a moment and took his boxers off, his cock already glistening with precum. He slowly made his way back to you, laying on top of you. His cock laid in between the lips of your pussy, causing you to moan slightly. He sucked on your neck, a hand finding it's way to your hair and tugging slightly.

"You're awfully greedy." He purred into your ear teasingly. You heard him open his bedside table drawer, grabbing a condom and snapping the draw shut. Kneeling up again while discarding the condom wrapper, he rolled the condom on his dick achingly slow, never taking his eyes off of you. You felt a new rush of wetness slide through your pussy, and you opened your legs up more.

Eddie stroked his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance, which was already aching with pleasure. He leaned forward, his forehead touching yours. Your breath hitched in your stomach as he looked into your eyes and you nodded, giving him the go ahead. His dick slid in without resistance, causing you to moan loudly and his eyes to roll back.

"Shit, baby, you're so fucking wet," He hissed, starting to thrust slowly into you, "So fucking tight. Fuck s'good."

Eddie's cock filled you, every thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through you. You couldn't help your moaning - thank god Eddie's uncle wasn't home - and you felt like you were almost having an out of body experience. As Eddie started to speed his thrusts up, your hands find their way to the back of his hips, and your nails started to dig in deeper and deeper.

"Yes. Right there. Right there, Eddie. Fuck, you fuck me so good!" You stammered as he hit your walls. He grunted, panting, his hair tickling your face.

"Right there, baby? You like it right there?" He spoke, his voice a guttural growl, "You gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Be a good girl for me and show me."

His words shot through your pussy in combination with his thrusts, the sound of his dick slipping in and out of your wet pussy driving you over the edge. Sloppy kisses were exchanged as one of Eddie's hand found it's way underneath your shirt and bra, fingering a nipple.

"Fuck...I should've taken this shit off before we started." Eddie mumbled, still thrusting. You replied by whipping the shirt above your head, unhooking your bra and throwing it to the ground. Eddie's eyebrows raised and he smirked, leaning down to immediately take your nipple in his mouth. Your back arched and you gasped, one hand pushing Eddie's head down on your tits, and the other pushing his ass down to fuck you harder.

"Harder and you're gonna make me come again." You whimpered. Eddie responded by taking your nipple in his teeth, sucking harder and harder.

You started to see stars. You had never felt this type of pleasure before, and you never wanted it to stop. The combination of Eddie's cock, his mouth, and his words were about to send you careening over the edge.

"Oh, god-"

"Oh fuck, baby. I'm gonna come." Eddie said, his face finding your neck again. The hand on his head found its way to his chin, cradling it. His hair swung back and forth, and his eyelids were half shut, a deep crimson rising in his face.

"Come for me. Come with me-" Was all you were able to get out before one final thrust from Eddie sent you over the edge, causing you to scream his name, your hands finding his sheets and gripping for dear life. Hearing your screams caused Eddie to moan loudly, his whole body tensing as he spilled into the condom. He said your name, not quite as loud as your screams, but with matching intensity.

The only noises that could be heard were panting from the both of you. After a moment, Eddie slid out from inside of you, falling to the side of you and immediately taking you into his arms, kissing the top of your shoulder.

"So..." He finally said, a small chuckle playing on his words. You giggled and turned to face him, looking into his eyes.

"So."

"Now that we've established we're absolutely head over heels for each other", Eddie started, placing a kiss on your forehead, "And we're both incredibly sexually compatible..." Another kiss, "Is it like, totally corny to ask you to be my girlfriend or...no?"

You giggled again, running a hand through his hair, "I don't think so. I'd say yes, i think."

"You think?!"

"I'm kidding!" You laughed, sitting up on your elbow. You started to trace circles on his chest, the air falling back into place again. "So what now?"

"What now?!" Eddie asked. Boasting his best DM voice, he sat up and waved his arms in the air, "There's a whole big beautiful world we get to discover now together!"

You smirked, running a hand down his bare thigh, "But what if...I just want to stay in bed?"

A blush rose on Eddie's face and he smiled, looking at your lips, "Oh, well in that case, there's a lot to discover in here, too."

He reached over to his bedside table and opened the drawer again.

------

Whew, a doozy! What did you guys think?! My first time writing smut but it was just a little idea I had on my mind for a bit so I had to get it out. I love me some cute Eddie ideas.

REMINDER: My inbox is open so please request some stuff because I'm dying to write!

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

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[goofygecko]

Through The Window

(2)

Part 1

Masterlist

Summary—

Maybe you should've thought about wearing that skirt before you left for work.

Warnings

PinV, desk sex, slut-shamimg, breeding kink, daycryphilia, possibly small suit kink, spanking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, boss/employee, older man/younger woman, hair-pulling, face pulling (not a ton though), commando, no prep

William couldn't get that image of you out of his mind, or the sound of his name on your tongue. He would have you today, and he'd make sure of it.

______________

You joyfully walk into the pizzeria, inhaling the smell of cheap pizza and dust. (Which your senses have tricked you into thinking the smell was pleasant due to having to smell it everyday.) The family friendly restaurant had been your closest thing to an escape from reality for a long while.

"Someone seems excited today." William teases as you walk by him, his voice making you spin around completely.

"Oh, yeah, just have a feeling it's gonna be a good day!" You smile at him before looking at him again, "Y'know?" You add awkwardly.

"Mmmhm.." The man hums before looking you up and down, observing your short skirt.

"That skirt isn't very appropriate for a children's establishment, y'know." He mocks your poor vocabulary.

"Oh! Sorry, I can go back and change into something else, if that's fine with you." You chuckle nervously as you point to the door, speaking with your hands.

"That won't be necessary." William grunts, shifting his position to hide the growing tent in his pants, "Come to my office in 10." He commands before walking away from you.

As soon as William walks away you feel like you've been shattered into a million pieces. Usually, being called to his office meant being demoted or even fired. You must have fucked up somehow.

Solemnly, you make your way to Afton's office. Only stopping to look up occasionally until you got to his door, not even needing to knock as the door swung open infront of you.

"Oh. Hello, dear, I was just about to start looking for you, come in."

"Hi, Mr.Afton.."

"Awh, dear, what happened to your cheerful mood?" William asks with fake sympathy.

You shrug.

"Well, darling, that isn't much of an answer. Now is it?" William teases.

"No..." Replying quietly, you look up at him. Fuck, is he hot.

He chuckles at your scared expression. Honestly, you probably would do anything he tells you to do.

You hear a click.

"Now, dear, I want you to take off that slutty little skirt for me."

"Excuse me...?"

"You heard me, dear. Take. It. Off." He demands.

Fuck, this is embarrassing.

"Yessir.." You reply sheepishly, slipping the skirt off before realizing you'd forgotten a key piece of fabric.

"No panties? How dirty of you, dear." Afton chuckles at your bare hips before biting his lip, feeling the tent in his pants practically suffocating his dick.

You gulp, "I-I'm sorry, Mr.Afton.. I forgot I—"

"Lies won't get you anywhere, slut."

You laugh awkwardly.

"It's not a lie, Mr.Af-"

"Oh, please. I'm no fool, dear. If anything, I'd say you were planning on this happening, that's why you wore such a small skirt."

You gulp as you stand fully, skirt around your ankles as cold air bites at your ass. William walks behind you, groping and palming at you exposed skin.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this? You little cock-tease.." He groans as he nudges you forward until you are within contact of the cold, hard, wooden desk in the middle of the room.

You can feel his cock poking at you through his slacks as you lean forward slightly.

"Mmh, what a pathetic girl.." He mumbles as he places a hand on your back, bending you over the desk fully.

"'m not patheti—"

Slap.

"Don't argue with me, slut." He talks down to you as he lands another slap on your ass causing you to gasp and grip onto the desk.

"Ok! O-Ok! 'm sorry, Mr.Afton! 'm sorry!" You sobbed, the sting left from his hand vibrating through your entire body in waves of pain. Surely, you'd be struggling to sit down by tomorrow with how hard he was striking your bottom.

After a few more slaps, his spanking finally ceased. Leaving your ass a bright red and your cheeks soaked with clear lines of tears.

A faint zipper sound came from behind you along with cloth rustling.

"Now, do you think that you'll need my fingers to help you take me?" He teased. You shook your head hesitantly, not wanting to anger the man who currently had his cock on your sopping cunt.

"Mmh.. good." He mumbled as he slowly slid into you, grunting at how tight you were.

You yelped in pain, not expecting the stretch of his entrance to hurt as much as it had. Tears pricked at your eyes as you struggled to stay still.

"M-Mr.Afton..! It hurts! Please one secon—"

"No. You are going to fucking take it, you cock-tease. Do you know what you do to me? I can't keep my fucking eyes off you." He growled in your ear as he bottomed out causing you to let out a loud moan as his tip kissed your cervix. He stayed still for a moment to compose himself before roughly fucking into you from behind, the loud slapping emitted from between the two of you filled the room with the slick sounds of your cunt.

"Your moans sound so pathetic, dear. Ah- Mr.Afton-!" He mocked you before sticking two of his fingers into your mouth, pulling the corner of you mouth to stop you from stifling any of your pathetic moans.

"Mphftr Aphton!" You moaned incoherently, unable to properly form words with him holding your mouth open.

"Awh, what's wrong? Poor baby can't talk?" He teased before speeding up his pace, constantly assaulting your tight hole.

You nod before her pulls his fingers out of your mouth to tangle them in your hair, pulling your head back.

"Mr.Afton! 'm gonna cum-!" He stopped his pace suddenly.

"You're funny, dear. No, you aren't going to cum until I fucking say you can." William chuckles maniacally above you before resuming his violent pace.

He yanked your hair back as he pulled out a polaroid camera, taking a photo of your defenseless, pathetic form before chuckling loudly and fucking into you harder.

"Fuck, this is going on my wall, doll. You like the sound of that? Hm? You're clenching around me." You whined loudly as your eyes rolled back into your skull in pleasure.

"Please, Mr.Afton! P-Please let me cum, I've been a g-good girl! Please, please, please!" You beg desperately as you moved your hips in time with his.

"Fuck, fine" He groaned, "Cum for me, slut."

You're body convulsed as your liquids oozed around him, coating his cock in your slick liquid.

Noticing that he didn't stop his pace after you came you quickly went into overstimulation, "M-Mr.Afton-! Wait 's too much! It hurts!"

"Aw, does it? Well that's too fucking bad. I'm going to keep fucking you until you are properly bred and bulging with my seed."

Tears fell from your eyes as his pace grew sloppy and and began to falter.

"Shit, I'm going to cu—" Afton interrupts himself with a loud groan as you feel his cum filling your pussy, painting your walls white.

He slowly pulls out before lightly slapping your ass.

"Get your skirt on and go back to work, dear."

-

-

-

A/N: I got really lazy at the end so the ending isn't too good. 😭

[lowkeyrobin]

Fine I'll give you fluff 🙄....Carl and reader find this huge museum and decided to check it out for supplies to find out the museum has been untouched there's no signs of walker or human and since Carl and reader are still children they decided to fuck around and even give themselves a tour of the museum and it ends with sweet first kisses 😚

- ♣️

heyyyyy ♣️ of course and thank you. the Luke castellan req u sent me is already hurting and I've barely written any of it yet LMFAO ; also didn't know how to do the kissing bit so I'm sorry :( I've never been to a museum so ifk djsndmsm ; I should've scrapped this it's so bad wth

CARL GRIMES ; museum

summary ; you and carl go on a run and take a tour of a museum

warnings ; language, mentions of knives

genre ; fluff

word count ; 1k

masterlist

You and Carl approach the large building, gazing upon the well-founded structure. It was a curvature shape, large glass windows covering it, pulling in gallons of sunlight each day. You couldn't imagine the amount of sunbleach on the floor inside if it was that familiar thin carpeting like in arcades or inside al Chuck E Cheese's across the globe.

As you walk closer, killing any stray walkers with your knives, you notice there's a whole layer below the upper, circular part of the building. It's held up by pillars, protected by shade, and only covered in a few tall windows here and there. Below that, it sinks into the ground a bit with the help of some staircases on each side behind the sign and little wall to prevent casualties. It was more boxy, however, still covered in windows. The whole structure looked freakishly modern, like the world didn't end back in 2010 here, like the world just kept spinning up til now, apparently. It was a little freaky seeing it, but you brushed it off. Whatever this place was, they probably pulled in millions of dollars a month to look like this.

You approach the front, seeing Virginia Museum of History & Culture in bold lettering above the main doors.

Now, you and your long-time friend Carl never got to learn all that much about history or culture, seeing as the world ended in the middle of your fifth grade year. All through elementary school, it wasn't something anyone was teaching a bunch of little kids who'd forget within an hour over recess.

The two of you share a shrug and nod, deciding to go in to look for any food or resources. You keep your weapons ready and in hand, prepared to take down as many walkers as need be.

The first challenge was getting inside, however. The door was locked. Luckily, Carl was able to pick the lock with a spare safety pin he kept in his pocket for this exact reason, and he slowly pushed the door open with his foot. His boot leaves a print on the door from the dirt and dust on the ground, leaving the stainless steel door a little messy as you both enter.

You clear out each large room, finding no signs of life, or death for that matter. You closely examine all of the WW2 replica artifacts and read the little signs, teaching you about the nearly hundred-year-old war. It was pretty interesting to you, considering the only war education you'd gained was being part of one yourself with the whole Negan and the Saviors thing.

Carl notices you reading as he breaks open some protective glass, opening a stash of rifles that'd been found post-war on the battlegrounds in Virginia.

"Think they still work?" He asks you, holding one up in his hand.

You shrug, "How would I know?"

He nods and shrugs, agreeing with your statement. However, you'd take anything you could get your hands on at the moment, food, guns, ammo, anything.

You two unlock a long forgotten childlike curiosity, exploring the museum for all its knowledge. You learn a lot about cultures and wars walking around the building, about ancient Aztec civilizations and the Civil War.

You ended up finding a little bit of food and some guns and ammo. I mean, a museum would never be a go-to for apocalypse rations anyway.

The two of you sit down in front of the windows near the front of the building, giggling and gasping for air after playing tag for a solid twenty minutes. Your cheeks are flushed and you run a hand through your hair, trying to cool yourself down a bit.

"I didn't know you could run so fast" Carl chuckles, lightly nudging your shoulder.

You shrug with a light smile and reply with a sarcastic and snarky tone, "My urgency to get away from you is showing"

"Hey!"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You stick close to Carl, heading into a locked portion of the building, staff only. You wield your knives, cautiously turning the lights on.

Nothing, once again.

Another lunch room, weird enough. But it had plenty of non-perishables you could take. Including spaghetti-o's, which you hadn't had in years. The warm, metal taste could already be tasted on your tongue as you imagined the beautiful taste of the noodles and sauce again.

Carl turns to you, "Ready to go? It's nearly dark"

You nod, "Go on without me, I wanna go in that section we didn't really explore yet"

He shrugs, "I'll come with you"

"It's fine-"

"You wanna learn more, don't you?"

You shrug and nod.

"Nerd" He teasingly chuckles, "C'mon, let's make it quick"

You quickly run out to the section you didn't get to explore much, learning all about JFK's assassination. God, if the internet got to progress any further, you'd be all over Reddit sharing conspiracies and theories about this right now.

"Holy shit, dude took two bullets, what the fuck?"

"Damn"

You begin to rant as you read the little book on the podium, silencing Carl as he sits on the floor. His feet hurt, and his shoulders were beginning to ache, so he decided to sit down like this was kindergarten storytime.

You stand and speak, using your hands to communicate through body language as he attentively listens to you. He looks up at you with admiration, like he was genuinely focused on you and only you. You stop to breathe, your throat dry as you shut the book.

Carl fixes his hat, handing you some water.

"Ready to go home and eat these spaghetti-o's that I know you're dying to eat?"

"Yes please!"

[a-big-apple]

Gideon, Harrow, and "Wedding Vows"

i frequently see the interpretation that this:

"The land that shall receive thee dying, in the same will I die: and there will I be buried. The Lord do so and so to me, and add more also, if aught but death part me and thee," said Gideon. (GtN 438)

plus this:

"If I forget you, let my right hand be forgotten," her mouth was saying. "Add more also, if aught but death part me and thee." And, unsteadily: "Griddle." (HtN 360)

plus this:

It didn't even matter when Kiriona said, "Sure, Cam. Marry a moron, then die. I get the urge." (NtN 372)

equals Gideon and Harrow are married! crying face emoji!

i'm not disparaging that interpretation, i think it's valid and has some basis in the text, and even if it wasn't/didn't, i think fans should have all the fun they want. but for me, it doesn't fully capture the complexity of what Gideon and Harrow are to each other, and i want to explore a slightly less straightforward reading.

Catholic weddings, vows, and Ruth under the cut ;)

Gideon and Ninth House traditions

let's start with Gideon quoting Ruth. i've seen folks repeating the idea that this is a wedding vow. it's more accurate to say that this is a verse often used as a wedding vow, in other denominations of Christianity, and secularly as well. but in a (traditional) Catholic wedding, the couple can't write or choose their own vows--the Celebration of Matrimony has specific text, with one or two variations, that is always used.

now, we haven't seen a Ninth House marriage ceremony. if we do see such a thing in AtN and discover that Ruth 1:17 is part of that tradition, i will cry a million happy queer tears about it. but i think it's somewhat likely that Gideon has never even seen a Ninth House wedding, given how small and trending elderly the population is, and that we know no couples in her lifetime have had kids other than the Reverend Parents.

what i'm getting at here is that this quotation from Ruth doesn't seem, to me, to represent something that's religiously or traditionally binding in Ninth House culture. it uses some similar language to Catholic marriage vows, "until death do us part" etc, but i don't think these are words that make them married in the eyes of the Ninth or the Houses at large, i think these are words Gideon has chosen as a specific expression of her devotion. and where does she get them from, if not some Ninth House ceremony or scripture?

well, this is a slightly longer stretch, but at the point in the story when Gideon says this, she's already dead. Harrow has begun to absorb her--and thanks to "The Unwanted Guest," we know that souls are porous, permeable, and rub off on each other when they're in contact. Gideon's soul is at this moment being integrated into Harrow's; Harrow has certainly read all kinds of books on the Ninth ranging from usual to totally heretical, some of them probably extremely old, and it's not unreasonable to think writings from before the Resurrection might have been copied and recopied into something Harrow could access. And speaking of soul permeability, Harrow's had Alecto's soul clinging onto hers for seven years, and Alecto's soul is in intimate contact with John's soul--there are so many ways for this bit of scripture to make its way into Gideon's non-corporeal mouth. the STI (Soulfully Transmitted Infection) of biblical knowledge.

Ruth in context

now let's talk a little about Ruth, the book of the Bible and also the character of the Bible, and Naomi, who she is swearing her devotion to. tl;dr, Naomi and her husband and two grown sons are Israelites who immigrate to Moab, a "pagan" nation, to escape famine. Naomi's two sons marry Moabite women; then the sons both die, as does Naomi's husband. Naomi, having lost everything, decides to return home where she'll be penniless and have a bad life but at least she'll be among her people; she tells her two daughters-in-law to go back to their families. One of them goes.

The other, Ruth, refuses, and swears beautiful devotion to Naomi, as we've heard Gideon quote: "She answered: Be not against me, to desire that I should leave thee and depart: for whithersoever thou shalt go, I will go: and where thou shalt dwell, I also will dwell. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. The land that shall receive thee dying, in the same will I die: and there will I be buried. The Lord do so and so to me, and add more also, if aught but death part me and thee."

in a biblical context, this has nothing to do with a wedding vow. Ruth is promising to leave the comfort of her own people, religion, and homeland to stay with her mother-in-law Naomi, even though the connection they had (Naomi's son, Ruth's husband) is gone, and all they have to look forward to is a terrible life of grief and bitterness. this is frequently interpreted as a parallel to Jesus, who (in the religious perspective) made the sacrifice of leaving his place with God and becoming human out of devotion to humanity, in order to live and suffer and redeem us. woof, this is giving me flashbacks to CCD.

of course, many Christians resist interpreting what passes between Ruth and Naomi as resembling a wedding vow for homophobic reasons too--making it about Jesus is a way to make it less queer--but i think the point still stands that this is a more complicated, and less marriage-related, expression of love than it seems taken on its own.

Harrow's lamentation

when Harrow later echoes it back, she conflates it with a different biblical quotation: "On the willows in the midst thereof we hung up our instruments. For there they that led us into captivity required of us the words of songs. And they that carried us away, said: Sing ye to us a hymn of the songs of Sion. How shall we sing the song of the Lord in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgotten. Let my tongue cleave to my jaws, if I do not remember thee: If I make not Jerusalem the beginning of my joy."

it's a lament, an expression of mourning, a longing for home from someone who has been forcibly removed from it. when combined with the Ruth quotation, in which Ruth is giving up her home in her devotion, this really reads to me as both Harrow's grief, immediate and overpowering, and a realization that Gideon is her home, and failing to acknowledge that is as disabling as the loss of a hand or of the power of speech. Gideon is the beginning of her joy, and Harrow is, in this moment, putting Gideon above the Ninth House in her devotion. above Alecto. above everything.

and again, i'm not saying all of that can't be about marriage, but it's about a relationship much more complicated than marriage can encompass in the context House cultural norms.

Kiriona Gaia, saddest girl

this brings me to Kiriona, and "marry a moron, then die." consider the context of this, and the tone. Kiriona's deeply, deeply hurt. the saddest girl in the universe. she died for Harrow, avowed her devotion to Harrow, and then (from her perspective) was rejected; buried; excised from Harrow's brain and then from her body. Kiriona, as she did when she was Gideon, covers her emotions with humor and sarcasm. i suspect she's even less able to handle being vulnerable as Kiriona than she ever was before. she's making light of Canaan House and what happened there, and it's only in sarcastically downplaying what she's been through that she recounts her relationship to Harrow as a marriage--something she has almost no positive examples of, something that is in her experience frequently political and joyless. also notably, she frames it as a marriage that occurred before she died.

Their actual vow

what Gideon (and Kiriona) really wants--she tells us over and over again--is to be a true cavalier.

and what does Gideon's ghost repeat right before she devastates us with Ruth 1:17?

"One flesh, one end," said Gideon, and it was a murmur now, on the very edge of hearing. Harrow said, "Don't leave me." (GtN 438)

it's taken me a dozen paragraphs just to propose that this is their vow. "One flesh, one end" are the actual words that need to be spoken, in Gideon and Harrow's cultural context, to bring them into an official union with each other; a union that is arguably more fundamental in the Houses, and certainly more complicated, than a marriage. a union Gideon specifically wants, and has seen in action.

in the pool, they vow to each other as cavalier and necromancer. in the moments before Gideon's death, she forgives Harrow again, and exposes her heart: "'You know I only care about you,' she said in a brokenhearted rush" (GtN 430). then she repeats their oath again, acknowledges the pain she's about to cause for Harrow, and rededicates herself to the Ninth--a place she never really belonged, Harrow's home and people more than her own, as Ruth dedicated herself to Naomi's home and people. Gideon "married" her moron in the pool, and now she dies to fulfill that vow.

and as we saw above, after Gideon's death, she reminds Harrow again of their union--of its importance, of how she's fulfilling what she has interpreted to be her whole purpose as a cavalier--and it's in response to Harrow's "don't leave me" that Gideon offers a final reassurance of her devotion. in her mind, this sacrifice is its ultimate expression, the most inextricable and undeniable union two people can achieve.

Gideon believes she'll be part of Harrow forever.

[mikagecorp]

lmao whats their response to the age old question: Would you love me if I was a worm?

love, me :)

if you were a worm, i'd put you in a plastic oil drum and make you compost all of my table scraps until you eventually became one with the soil 💕

@ratspoison

characters ━ itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyouma, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, yukimiya kenyu

warnings ━ none

consider yourself single if you ask rin this question

with blue lock's schedule, bro barely has time to text his parents on a regular basis. if you hit bro with 'would you love me if i was a worm' he'd block you and never speak to you again

but really, he'd think that's so foolish of you

is it not enough that he likes you as a human?

(what a lukewarm question)

rin's trustworthy, but now he has to wonder if there's another reason to ask such a question

what's the true meaning behind this worm???

you'd have to catch him awake to do any of that

and if he's awake, he's probably doing a million things, like training or conditioning or gaming

for someone who finds working hard 'troublesome', nagi seems to be the one working the hardest out of everyone

if he does call you, though, expect him to regret it almost as soon as you pop the question

'would you love me if i was a worm?'

'you exhaust me'

though, even if you'd been joking and had forgotten about it, you'd be getting a text in the middle of the night, days later

'if you were a worm, i'd build you a little worm house, and feed you only the finest worm meals'

'would you love me if i was a worm?'

'well. . .i guess i've made worse decisions in my life'

super chill about it, has definitely heard similar things from his older sister

honestly, he's kind of a natural at the whole dating thing

don't tell him that though, it'll go to his head

it helps that he's such a genuine guy, he doesn't have to lie when he says things in order to comfort someone else

it's the way he says it; most people who are 'brutally honest' tend to be crude with everything they say

chigiri only talks like that when he's talking to kunigami's mean ass

my guy is speechless

dude knows nothing about relationships and it's very obvious, so he'll search for the right answer rather than the honest answer

'i...i think so?'

in reality, you couldn't pay isagi a hundred bucks to pick up a worm

he's not afraid, he just thinks they're nasty

he. . .might be a little scared

he just doesn't want to touch a worm, okay?

but he will, if his s/o becomes a worm. he will face his fear for the greater good

it's not a matter of what his answer is: it's a matter of who asks first

bachira would 100% call you up in the middle of the night in a panic, like he just got hit by a car and needed a ride to the emergency room

'bachira, what's wrong?'

'babe! would you love me if i was a worm?!'

you don't deserve a hello when bachira's demanding an answer to such an important question

''i might love you if you were a bee, not a worm. what about me? would you love me if i was a worm?'

he'd spend the rest of the night trying to decide what kind of insect you would be, because he wouldn't let his s/o be a worm of all thing

yuki is my friend's favourite, and lucky for her, i think he'd be very princely about it

'i'd never stop loving you, even until the ends of the earth. even if you were a worm.'

it's okay to gag at him, he deserves it

but if he knows you think it's cringey he'll just keep doing it

for a few weeks, everything he does around you ends up being a callback to the worm question

even if it was a joke, yukimiya will make you regret ever asking it

and he'll be so sweet about it to

changes your name in his phone to 'my worm❤️' and expects you to appreciate the new nickname

he's not changing it until you appreciate it

appreciate the nickname!

[onlydrawnbad]

Do you ever read 570,000+ word, 130+ chapter fanfics that were started nearly 8 years ago and have current year updates, and as you get to the end of certain chapters along the way, you keep going "wow, I would have hated to be here in 201x and have to wait for THAT cliffhanger, those poor readers, those sad, desperate historical souls" and you're just so glad for yourself because you know you don't have to stop until chapter 139, and you arrogantly assume that's probably just extended epilogues or something (because you were previously conditioned by another fic to believe that), so everything will be fine?

Only to get to chapter 139 and SCREAM OUT LOUD because you jinxed yourself right into THE NEWEST WAVE OF CLIMATIC PLOT CHAPTERS WHERE ALL THE SHIT IS GOING DOWN and now you, too, have become the reader you felt such pity for?

Wait, you don't?

THEN GO OVER THERE AND DO WHAT I DID SO I DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE IN MY HUBRIS. It comes with art. So. Much. Wonderful. Comic. Art.

I would like to stress (as I have done before) that I have never played this game. Not once. I had never even heard of it originally. Yet this is now the second absolutely massive Sans x reader/OC fic I have read in this fandom. Everything I know about Undertale, I learned because one day on a whim I decided to read a 480,000+ word, 170+ chapter fanfic because I liked the way @tricktster used words on some tumblr post (don't ask me which one, I've forgotten). I have re-read that fic at least once a year, if not more, for multiple years in a row because it's like a favorite book to me now.

If anyone needs me, I'll be comfort-reading it, again.

And then probably going back and re-reading JoAT, because oh my god that fic. I'm just so in love with it for a million reasons.

(Yes, it took me this long to see there was another glorious treasure in plain sight under @capnhanbers despite following @mod2amaryllis and it's just really embarrassing to be confronted by that kind of obliviousness, okay? Can I blame it on how, multiple times now over the years, I've gone months and months without looking at this app unless it notified me of something specific?)

I swear, I have never read fic in any other fandom where it was this easy to immerse myself in it with nothing more than some light googling along the way (the first time with CoBC), and the googling was just because I'm me and I like to know all the things. In both cases, you don't have to come to the table with anything other than an interest in supernatural-elements stories (monsters, magic, etc) and a love for snappy dialogue and funny (dad) jokes and HEART-WRENCHING FEELS and watching the author having a life journey in the notes.

(And yes, sure, an open mind about a skeleton monster and a human having magical sex, but if you know you're in a rated fic about monsters and humans, you must know that's going to be a thing.)

[stqrbxy]

[ 中也 ] chuuya nakahara x m! reader .

genre : smut but not in-depth.

t.w : suggestive themes.

sypnosis : you and chuuya missed each other deeply, so what's better than buying an absurdly expensive bottle of wine to soften him up??

author's note : this is hella confusing and bad.

"c'mere; there's plenty of space in my lap." + ready for another round?"

chuuya and you were both head executives of the most mafia, as well as the most important ones, so it was no wonder that you both were busy, that two could barely see each other throughout the day even though you both worked in the same penthouse.

so, you were coming back home from work, and you were thinking about chuuya, he was probably on another mission or stuffed with paperwork. but, you managed to finish all of your work for the week, so now you have the weekend all to yourself. you sighed slightly and continued to walk forwards, tugging on your coat to refrain it from getting breezed away by the end.

while you were on your way back home, you saw a wine shop on the way. and, they were known to sell good wine. so, you decided, why not buy some good wine for your husband after a long day of work?

you paid for the expensive bottle of wine, specifically chosen for his tastes, and headed out to your original destination once again. you looked at the time on your watch and saw a lot of time had passed by, by the time you carefully picked out his preferred taste. realizing, you walked faster and soon arrived at your shared penthouse.

you twisted open the doorknob and were greeted by lapis-coloured eyes, which quickly made their way onto yours

"i'm home." you smiled sweetly at him, then locked the door and proceeded to put the wine in the fridge and sit beside him on the couch, taking off your boot's laces elegantly and slowly.

"welcome home, sweetheart. i've missed you," he murmured gently and wrapped his hand around your waist and the other on your thigh. needy and desperate for you, but decided to be polite and not touch you inappropriately.

"i've missed you a lot too. how has work been going? you came home earlier than me." you chuckled and attempted to move away from his touch, attempting to put away your shoes, oh, but, how could chuuya let you go just when he's got your hands on you and after so long as well?

"stop being so cruel, I haven't even held you for a moment, yet you already want to leave." he scoffed like a child and let go of you, trying to prove as if he wasn't needy for your touch a moment ago.

"don't worry, let me freshen up then you can have me for as long as you want, happy?" you smirked at him mischievously after you washed your face and put away your shoes, but your thigh-high socks were still on, unbeknownst to him as your oversized pants were covering them.

"fine. c'mere, there's plenty of space in my lap for you to sit." he grinned back, in the same mischievous manner and patted his thigh for you to sit on. you gladly moved onto his lap, teasingly rubbing your crotch on his thigh as you felt him getting harder.

"god, angel, I've missed you so fucking much. i missed your voice, your touch, your words and you." he needy groaned and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

"missed too, chuu. ah, i've forgotten to tell you, I got you a bottle of 1964 Romanée-Conti. And, don't worry about where I got it from, let's say I have my sources." you smirked at him as he removed his head from your neck and looked at you with slightly widened eyes and a slight blush plastered over his face. 'How cute.' you thought to yourself.

"the hell? oh my god — thank you so much? what the fuck? how can I repay you?" he swooned over you. he was so grateful for someone like you, who'd buy him a wine worth three million fucking yen. that's half of your salary and two-thirds of his. but, it didn't matter to you, what the price may be. because, to you, he was worth more than ten bottles of expensive wine. the funny thing is, you always knew that gift-giving, was sure to touch his heart.

"you don't have to, but~ if you wish to, perhaps there's something that you can do." you ended it suggestively and shifted on his lap every moment or so, merely to rile him up.

"please, tell me." god, chuuya begging, just for you? you really should've seen his hands on your waist, desperate to touch you further.

you smirked at him merely, dragged him softly into the bedroom and threw him on the bed, making sure not to hurt him. he gasped softly and blushed even more, waiting for you to do or say something; you pushed him down on the bed with your hand on his chest.

"well then, do I have your consent to do anything i'd like to do to you tonight?~" you shot him another smirk before and looked deep into his lapis blue eye, waiting for a response.

"yes, yes — please, use me, anything you want, ruin me, god, I fuckin' need you so badly."

oh dear, you both were definitely in for a hell of a night.

so, you were coming back home from work, and you were thinking about chuuya. chuuya was probably on another mission or stuffed with paperwork. but, you managed to finish all of your work for the week, so now you have the weekend all to yourself. you sighed slightly and continued to walk forwards, tugging on your coat to refrain it from getting breezed away by the end.

while you were on your way back home, you saw a wine shop on the way. and, they were known to sell good wine. so, you decided, why not buy some good wine for your husband after a long day of work?

you paid for the expensive bottle of wine, specifically chosen for his tastes, and headed out to your original destination once again. you looked at the time on your watch and saw a lot of time passed by already. therefore, you walked faster and soon arrived.

you twisted open the door knob and were greeted by lapis-coloured eyes, which quickly made their way onto yours and then to the bag you were holding.

"i'm home." you smiled sweetly at him, then locked the door and proceeded to put the wine in the fridge and sit beside him on the couch, taking off your boot's laces elegantly and slowly.

"welcome home, sweetheart. i've missed you," he murmured gently and wrapped his hand around your waist and the other on your thigh. needy and desperate for you, but decided to be polite.

"i've missed you a lot too, how's work been going? you came home earlier than me." you chuckled and attempted to move away from his touch, attempting to put away your shoes, oh, but, how could chuuya let you go just when he's got your hands on you, after so long as well?

"stop being so cruel, I haven't even held you for a moment and you already want to leave." he scoffed, like a child and let go of you, trying to prove as if he wasn't needy for your touch a moment ago.

"don't worry, let me freshen up and you can have me for as long as you want, happy?" you smirked at him mischievously after you washed your face and put away your shoes, but your thigh-high socks were still on, unbeknownst to him as your oversized pants were covering them.

"fine. c'mere, there's plenty of space in my lap for you to sit." he grinned back, in the same mischievous manner and patted his thigh for you to sit on. you gladly moved onto his lap, teasingly rubbing your crotch on his thigh as you felt him getting harder.

"god, angel, I've missed you so fucking much. i missed your voice, your touch, your words and you." he needy groaned and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

"missed too, chuu. ah, i've forgotten to tell you, I got you a bottle of 1964 Romanée-Conti. And, don't worry about where I got it from, let's say I have my sources." you smirked at him as he removed his head from your neck and looked at you with slightly widened eyes and a slight blush plastered over his face. 'How cute.' you thought to yourself.

"the hell? oh my god — thank you so much? what the fuck? how can I repay you?" he absolutely swooned over you. he was so grateful for someone like you, who'd buy him a wine worth three million fucking yen. that's literally half of your salary and two-thirds of his. but, it didn't matter to you, what the price may be. because, to you, he was worth more than ten bottles of expensive wine.

"you don't have to, but~ if you wish to, perhaps there's something that can be done." you ended it suggestively and shifted on his lap every moment or so, just to rile him up.

"please, tell me." god, chuuya begging, just for you? you should've seen his hands on your waist, desperate to touch you further.

you smirked at him merely and dragged him softly into the bedroom and threw him on the bed, making sure not to hurt him. he gasped softly and blushed even more, waiting for you to do or say something.

you pushed him down on the bed with your hand on his chest.

"well then, do I have your consent to do anything i'd like to do to you tonight?~" you shot him another smirk before and looked deep into his lapis blue eye, waiting for a response.

"yes, yes — please, use me, whatever, you want, ruin me, god, I fuckin' need you so badly."

oh boy, you both were definitely in for a kinky night.

[createserenity]

Ficlet - A Time of Wanting

I've had some writer's block recently and have been making super slow progress with my wips. Then I saw these lovely kiss drawings by @mrghostrat and ended up being very inspired and writing not one but two new stories. The other is below if you're interested:

Thank you so much Bilvy for making such lovely artwork! (Also their Good Omens AUs are incredible, if you haven't read them I highly recommend them!) This is a ficlet inspired by the fifth kiss in the collage (this one). It's basically Crowley being silly and soft. (Set post an imaginary season 3 where they've saved the world and are talking again.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here on AO3 - or below

A Time of Wanting

Crowley wants.

He wants so badly and he's wanted for so long that it's a physical ache in his chest now.

He wonders how he's not broken in half with the sheer force of his wanting. He wonders how Aziraphale doesn't notice how much he wants. Surely it should be a tangible thing now, this longing that pulses through him every moment of his existence. This urge to reach out, to touch, to take.

But it seems it isn't, because Aziraphale is busy reshelving books, apparently oblivious to the demon sprawled out over the couch. He hasn't even noticed that Crowley has woken from the nap he was taking, hasn't noticed that Crowley feels as if he could shake apart with the sheer force of his emotions.

How has he survived this long without taking this silly fussy angel for his own? How has he survived without knowing his touch, his taste, the way the angel might look at him if he finally dared to do what he longed to do?

His sleep addled brain tries to imagine what those things would be like, it's nothing he hasn't imagined a million times before, again and again over thousands of years. This time though the images his mind conjures are so affecting, so very real, that they draw a whimper from Crowley's throat before he can stifle it, before he can push it down where it belongs so that he can get through another day of wanting.

Aziraphale obviously hears the noise because he turns, despite being atop the small chair ladder he uses to reach the high shelves, balancing precariously with one hand on the shelf as he looks over at Crowley and gives him a soft smile.

It's that smile that does it.

All at once Crowley's entire brain comes back online and suddenly what he thought were his own wild imaginings coalesce into memories. Actual memories. And he realises that he doesn't need to lie here and want without taking anymore. And that ache in his chest isn't his heart about to break apart, but merely where he's fallen asleep with his mobile phone jammed against his ribs.

Fuck he's an idiot.

He flails madly for a moment whilst his brain remembers how to control overly long limbs, and barely hears the clatter as the phone falls to the floor unheeded, but then he's on his feet, bounding across the bookshop.

“Angel.” The word falls from his lips almost reverently as he crosses the space and Aziraphale seems to recognise that there's something amiss, even if he probably doesn't realise just how stupid Crowley can be sometimes.

How could he have forgotten? Six thousand years of longing, and now he can have whenever he wants and his stupid brain can't seem to hold onto that fact.

By the time Crowley has closed the distance between them Aziraphale is on the lowest step of the chair ladder. Crowley slips his arms around his angel's waist, fully intending to bury his head in the softness of Aziraphale's shoulder but instead the movement is arrested by Aziraphale's hands. They come up to rest either side of his jaw, holding him gently, yet firmly in place.

“Crowley. Darling,” says Aziraphale, his tone impossibly fond and yet with that underlying hint of strength, as he searches Crowley’s face with eyes that don't even bother trying to hide their adoration.

And now there is an ache inside Crowley’s chest that's nothing to do with sleeping awkwardly smushed against his phone. This ache is his heart trying to contain too many feelings, too much love. It feels like it's bursting with it.

“Angel.” He breathes out the word softly, as if saying it again might somehow help.

Aziraphale smiles and pulls him closer, one hand slipping from his jaw to wrap around his head, whilst the fingers of the other hand press lightly, tilting his face upwards with a gentle insistence that thrills Crowley to his core. 

“You silly thing,” Aziraphale says, as if he knows exactly how daft Crowley was being a minute ago. Crowley thinks he should probably object to that. Snap back a sarcastic comment to the patronising bastard of an angel that knows him far too well, that sees the vulnerability under his carefully crafted exterior.

But then Aziraphale’s lips are on his and all protests fizzle away before they've even made it to his throat.

This is what he has wanted for so long. This is his now. He can ask for this whenever he wants. 

He shuffles forward, tightening his arms to mould their bodies closer together, mindful not to pull Aziraphale from his precarious perch. The kiss deepens just slightly and he feels Aziraphale's fingers dancing over his cheek as the angel tightens his hold on Crowley’s head.

There's a soft whimper and then an equally soft moan and Crowley is surprised to realise he isn't responsible for either noise. For a second he flutters his eyes open and focuses on the expression that’s crept across Aziraphale's features. It's open and vulnerable, filled with adoration and love and contentment, as if this is the one thing Aziraphale has always longed for and wants to keep forever.

The realisation, that this means as much to Aziraphale as it does to him, makes Crowley’s heart swell with emotion, even as the ache in his chest is dispelled, dissolving away into a warm fuzziness that seems to wrap around them both. 

He lets his eyes drop closed again and leans a little more into the kiss. There’s a hum of contentment and this time he knows it's come from him.

He wanted for so long and now finally he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[mafiasliege]

I dare you to let me go

(this is part 3 of my javery fanfic. Enjoy reading!)

Part 2↓

AVERY

If there's one thing Avery had learned as a 21 year old philanthropist, it's that it doesn't matter how rich you are or how many people you have working for you, if you want something done correctly, you have to do it yourself. 

She was beyond frustrated as she walked into the foyer of the Hawthorne House. It still gave her the same homely comfort. She couldn't wait to go to bed and fall asleep with Jameson wrapped around her. She missed seeing him awake. She sometimes hoped that he couldn't fall asleep so that they could talk and spend some time together. 

Where was he? She stopped walking when she saw Lyra in the solarium with a cigarette in one hand and a glass in the other. 

I should ask her. 

"Hey" 

"Oh look who decided to show up" Lyra seemed annoyed to Avery, but she couldn't make out why. 

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"What's wrong? You didn't even show up to your own birthday party!" 

"Wha-" realisation dawned on Avery mid-sentence. Her blood turned to ice as Lyra grew even more pissed than before.

"You're seriously not telling me you forgot your own birthday. I bet you don't even remember about last night's dinner plan with your beau." 

Dinner pla- the card. Oh no. 

She had it with her, but she'd forgotten to solve the riddle on it. But Lyra seemed agitated enough already, so she stayed quiet. 

"I'm so sorry, Ly. I'm so, so sorry. Where is everyone?"

Where is Jameson? 

"All about the house. I haven't seen Jamie, either. Maybe he's still waiting in the miserable little party room" she sassed, Avery couldn't blame her.

Her thoughts came to a screeching hault as she went to the ballroom. It was covered in platinum and violet decorations and a banner that said 'Happy Birthday to the Prettiest Girl on Earth!' It was gorgeous. Guilt hit her like a brick.

How many occasions like this had she missed and didn't know? 

"Avery?" 

"Xander."

"Where were you?" He said with a frown. Xander Hawthorne almost never frowned. She didn't answer Xander's question and instead asked her own.

"Where's Jameson?" 

"I don't know. He's probably tryna catch a breath in the solarium or the passageways." 

"Catching a breath?"

Yep. I've screwed up.

"Yeah. He seemed upset. We waited for you for two hours in a crouch. We're going to have a funeral for our toes," he told her. He didn't put his usual xander-esque sarcastic flair to it. 

Correction: I've screwed up, bad. 

Avery called Oren over and told him to find Jameson. 

In the time that Avery, Grayson and Xander got to Jameson's wing, everyone else had also started searching for him and tried to call him. She slipped inside his room. It always smelled so… him. He still wore the same perfume she got for him on his birthday. She pushed aside the nostalgia and started looking for anything that was out of order. So far, everything was normal - messy room, chair piled full of clothes. Pictures of her on his nightstand. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the bathroom door slightly ajar.

"We found nothing. Did you?" 

She could not did not answer Grayson and Xander as she pushed the bathroom door. It gave out a long squeak, as if to make a grand entrance to the horror it was. She heard Xander gasp and Grayson suck in a breath.

The mirror was shattered into a million pieces. The cracks were concentric, meaning he'd probably punched it. He had punched it, considering the crimson in the sink. Avery saw a thousand reflections of herself in the gleaming pieces. She recognised none. How could I have been so blind? She could feel the dread and panic brewing in her gut.

A box lay on the ground. She gingerly picked it up. 

"I'll go see if Oren found out anything" said Grayson, and took Xander away with him.

-------------------------------------------

"He did what?" Avery said in disbelief.

"He was last seen at the airport." 

"And that's all you found out?" Asked Grayson.

"Yes. They said they were legally restrained from sharing the whereabouts of a person's private jets or their destinations." 

"He got a plane? When?" How would've been the better question, but she chose the indirect path of questioning. She knew he frequently visited the devil's mercy. He'd won The Annual Game twice now. She didn't know what he traded the winner's seal for the second time, but it was clearly enough to buy a plane. Another blow of guilt hit her at how different things were the first time he'd won versus now.

"An year ago. Probably to avoid getting found in situations such as this one."

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Did she miss more dates and break more promises than she would have liked? Yes. But he couldn't just up and go whenever and wherever. He couldn't fly off with zero explanations leaving her worried and confused.

He couldn't just leave like that.

Avery decided to ask Grayson to use his… resources, but he was already on the phone with his PI.

"It's getting late, kid. We should all get some sleep" said Nash, who'd spoken for the first time since the discussion started. Everyone started going back to their rooms. But Grayson followed Avery.

"Avery, wait." She turned around, knowing why he'd stopped her.

"I'm alright, Grayson, really. And he'll come back, I'm sure. This isn't him."

"And this didn't used to be you, either. But here we are."

"What does that mean?"

"It means Jamie isn't just 'coming back.' You're family, Avery. You've been one of us ever since you came here. But we've all seen you two for the last few years" he stopped talking, as if struggling to say what came after.

"You were there without really being there. And I understand, it's not easy, being so young and changing the world. Jamie waited for you and accepted bits and pieces because he loves you too much. But you did break his heart, and you weren't even there to witness it. You didn't even notice until he disappeared."

-------------------------------------------------

Avery got to her room and shut the door.

She pulled out the card- the one that Jameson gave her. It was a fairly easy riddle, easy because he might've been thinking she wouldn't waste spend too much time solving it.

Rrain oon oour rooffs imittates the soound of clapps blaaring in a ttheatre. <3

You just had to pluck out the unnecessary letters. And when the less-than symbol was inverted and attached to the 3, the kiss symbol looked like an 8.

Rooftop at 8. It said rooftop at 8pm, for a dinner plan. Probably followed by stargazing, as she loved to do. She'd rant about starts and constellations; how she felt slightly humbled staring at them, and Jameson would just listen fondly. She'd taken him for granted, hadn't she? And she could bet she hasn't been much humble at times, either.

But she'd always loved him.

She just hadn't shown it. That was probably one of her biggest regrets.

And then, only in the privacy of her room could she manage to open the box. She could not open it in that bathroom and risk crying in front of everyone. The tears started falling only after she flipped open the lid.

Nestled inside was an emerald-studded ring.

[tobiasdrake]

Well, as long as we're rafting the temporal streams, might as well head back to Dormont. Got some errands to run in the past.

I'm like 98% sure you're trying to flirt with me but you're too nervous to actually go through with it. Would you please just finally ask me out so I can rock your evening?

Look, be glad I was tasteful enough not to go for the other pun.

My guy, what could possibly compel you to think I'm not comfortable with basic human conta--

...you know what, that's fair. I guess I do go out of my way to minimize any and all possible exposure of physical features, don't I?

Anyways, go on and get out of here while I chat with my Lemonfriend.

Oh, I've always liked you. I'm just also creeped out by you. Two things can be true.

...huh. If I can die here in Dormont, then... that does make things easier. I was planning on throwing myself on a Tear once we got into the House since you said I can loop forward as well as back, but dying here in town would save me some time.

Oh shit yes. I'd love the ability to call you and chat about what I'm seeing while the rest of the crew looks at me like I've lost my goddamn mind.

Especially since the ultra-secret fourth sign is making a phone shape out of your fingers and then talking on it. That's hilarious.

This.

This is it.

This is the key to killing myself in Dormont.

...

I should probably wait until I've finished up here.

OH

ISA

I didn't realize you come up here after we're done. I don't have anything else to talk about but it's great seeing you up here.

Didn't accomplish as much here as I expected to. But at least we can take another crack at that desk drawer.

Okay between this and the rock switch, I no longer have any confidence in my own ability to do my job. It's distressing that each setback thus far has been the fault of a bad d20 roll on the primary reason that I'm with this party.

Ha! Rock trap for the Rock key. I get it.

Really? They're frozen in time right now but I am looking for a book. You think they might have set it out for me in advance? That would be awfully nice of them.

Oh shit. There was a person in town who sometimes thinks they have a sister but can't recall where they moved to. That shit got super weird. This has to be related.

No idea how it's related to our current mission. But. It's gotta be related.

Always trust in the puns. The puns are life. The puns are the secret of the universe. Those who do not heed their wisdom face the ultimate punishment.

So the Rock Key was in a room guarded by a huge rock and the Paper Key is in the library. I am. Kind of. Terrified. Of where the inevitable Scissors Key will be found.

And one Star Crest. Well. *heavy sigh* Shit.

Gonna have to temporally save-scum this one.

Can't argue with that. Isa's my brofriend-maybe-more so his vote automatically weighs more than anyone else in this--

................

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Okay. It's okay. We can work this out mathematically.

Isa, as previously noted, is worth a million points because he's a precious slab of adorableness who flirts with me in the cutest ways imaginable and I'm super feeling it.

Mira, meanwhile, is worth half a million points because she's also awesome and cool and she's our wonderful team leader and I adore her.

Bonnie is worth infinity points because they are a child whose hopes and dreams we are responsible for and I don't want to let them down.

However, Odile is worth zero points because she's mean to me and sometimes makes me want to cry. I still haven't forgotten that crack, Odile. Even though you have because it was in another time loop.

If we add them together, then Team Beauty is worth a million and a half points, but Team Age is worth infinity points.

However my sign is Scissors, and the shape of Scissors forms a multiplication symbol, not a plus symbol. Which means that Team Beauty is actually worth 500,000,000,000 points while Team Age is worth 0 points.

Thus, the objective and entirely unbiased answer is that Team Beauty wins.

I'm sorry, Bonnie! But math never lies. We must go south. It is our destiny to go south.

I know you will. It is my destiny to have a future filled with spuds. I accept my fate, but I do not apologize.

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

When Jason woke up to the familiar ceiling of the batcave, feeling… whole. 

He remembered everything. 

He remembered dying, crawling out of his grave, and jumping out of the Lazarus Pit. He remembered the moment Talia showed him pictures of Tim as Robin, he remembered planting the bomb under the Batmobile. He remembered every single thing that happened in the past five years. 

And he remembered things from before. Things he had forgotten due to the blunt force head trauma. He had forgotten about the nights they would spend in the library after Jason had a nightmare. He had forgotten about the moments he had with Dick where they would team up against Bruce, like real brothers. He had forgotten about most of the good moments he had while living at the manor. At his home. And they were really good memories. 

He didn’t know whether to cry in relief or guilt or mourning, because that was just another thing to add to the list of things that the Joker took away from him. The memories of all the good things. 

He covered his face with his arm and he could tell by the size and weight of it that he was back to normal. 

Back to being the Red Hood. The real lone-wolf vigilante in Gotham because he had burned bridges with anyone who had cared about him. What a fucking asshole. 

“Jay, Lad, you’re awake.” He heard the squeak of the chair that they kept in the medbay, “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t lift his arm up to look at Bruce. Fuck, Jason had collapsed in front of his grave. He probably given Bruce an aneurysm. A week ago, he would’ve laughed, but now… he just felt guilty. “I'm sorry.” He meant that for a million different things. He’s sorry for trying to kill half of the family. He’s sorry for digging up Bruce’s trauma. He’s sorry for believing that Bruce didn’t love him. 

“Jason, I’m sorry—“

“Bruce. I know we have a lot to talk about, but can you give me, like… a couple minutes to sort out my brain?”

The chair squeaked again, but Bruce didn’t say anything. 

Jason sat up to look at Bruce, who was sitting in the chair, stunned. “Sorry, I just thought you would be… more upset.”

“I am upset.” Because even though he was lost in a tornado of emotions he could tell that upset was one of the major fronts. 

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like I cared about the younger version of you more than—“

“That’s not why I’m upset.” Maybe a week ago, but not really right now. “I’m more upset that all of you made the collective decision to keep my death from me.” He paused looking for the right words, “I— younger me really thought I made it. I thought I got to perform in the school musical, open acceptance letters, I thought I got to walk across the stage and move into a dorm.” He felt his eyes burn in shame as he looked down at his hands. The hands that were once stained in Tim’s blood. The hands that once held a gun aimed at Damian, “I thought I would’ve been a good older brother, and you all just let me believe that. And I get it,” he looked back up at the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, “telling 15 year old me that, despite everything, I still didn’t make it, it would’ve been hard, but it was worse to realize that I never really got those things.” He took a deep breath, “I’m not angry at you. Not anymore. And there’s more we need to talk about, but I think I’m going to need to sleep on some things before we do.”

Jason looked back at Bruce, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bruce this… vulnerable. “Yes. Ok. Yeah, take as much time as you need.” But Bruce took Jason’s hands in his, “Just- know that I’m proud of you. For all that you’ve been through, and all that you’ve overcome, you still have a good heart. You have always had a good heart.”

“I love you, Dad. And I see now how much you love me too.”

Jason found Dick in his room. He doesn’t know what possessed him to come to Dick first— he was planning on sitting in the library, bawling his eyes out, and then talk with Bruce about whatever he wanted to talk about. Yet here he was, standing in Dicks doorway, feeling like he was 13 again, wondering if Dicks “I’m always here to talk if you need to,” was real. 

Turns out, everyone in the manor, besides Bruce and Alfred, were already there. 

They were all curled up in some way against Dick. Damian under his right arm, Tim under his left. Cass was curled around Tim, but had her head resting on Dicks shoulder, and Duke was laying perpendicularly across Dicks legs, though he was clutching Zitka tightly in his arms. 

There was also part of him that felt kind of left out. Realizing how close everyone was except for him. And he knew that was his fault. He had burned the bridges before he could even try to cross them. Now all he could do was gaze at the city from across the river. 

No. 

He’s been building a new bridge. Getting closer and closer to the city. To this family. He wouldn’t mess it up again. Because the 12 year old kid who jacked the Batmobiles tires deserved a home. The 13 year old kid who had been in the middle of a custody tug of war deserved a family. The 15 year old who ran away from home desperate to find a mother deserves love. 

“Jason!” Dick shot up, effectively ruining the cuddle pile, and drawing attention to him lurking at the doorway. Though, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cass already knew he was there. 

There was a collective look of relief throughout the group, even from Damian. Of all people. 

He shoved the knot that was in his stomach down and opted for a laugh, “I have fought valiantly, and I have reclaimed puberty from the wicked witch of the west.”

He was almost knocked over by everyone coming in for a group hug. 

“You little lying bastard.” He felt Duke's hand swat the back of his head, “man, it took us a whole hour to figure out that none of us knew where you were. Dick was about to kick down your door when Bruce came up with the key.”

Of all the old memories that Jason had gotten back, Bruce had never intruded on Jason’s space without him wanting to. He didn’t even think he had a key. So why…

“And then, Bruce brought you back unconscious. We thought you were gonna die again, but then you magically poofed back into your giant ass self, and—“

“Breathe!” Because he knew Tim would keep rambling, “and I just woke up, give me a minute.” Because he was expecting just Dick to be in his room. Not everyone. And as much as he cares for the whole entourage, he doesn’t think he has the energy to.. stay strong for them. He just wanted his big brother. Dick was his big brother first. 

And thank god for Cass’s people reading skills, because she cupped Jason’s cheek and offered him a small smile, “Might be big again, but you’re our little brother.” She glanced to Dick, and then guided Tim, Duke and Damian out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

Jason suddenly felt like he was still 15. Like he hadn’t been changed back. Like he was transported back in time to before everything had become so messy. 

Dick studied his face,  “What’s wrong?” He patted the space next to him on his bed. Just like that time Jason had gone to Titans Tower after Bruce had said he wasn’t Jason’s father. 

He sat down next to Dick, and then scooted down, so that he could comfortably rest his head on his chest. He could feel his face twitch, holding back the knot in his stomach that had risen into his throat. 

How could he have forgotten how much Dick cared? Maybe he wasn’t around that much, but he cared . He cared so much . 

He felt his expression crumple and fall. How could he have forgotten how much Dick tried?

Dick rubbed little circles into his back, as Jason muffled his sons into his shirt. Just like he had done when Jason wasn’t able to help Gloria Stanson. A couple nights before he left for space. He didn’t ask, or push, just waited. 

“I- I remember everything . I used to only be able to remember the bad. Now I remember…all the good too.” He stared at the tree outside of the window they used to climb together, “I remember now that even though you weren’t here often, you were a good brother. You were a really good brother. And I feel like shit for thinking you’ve always hated me, because—“

“Jason, can I be honest with you?” Dick dabbed at the tears that had fallen from Jason’s face. “I kind of assumed. When you wouldn’t get an inside joke, or when I would bring up something, and you would just stare blankly. I never felt offended when you didn't know, just upset with myself that I didn’t make more time, because maybe then certain memories would stick.” He traced the scar on Jason’s temple, “and I think a lot about how you were the one who reminded me how to love freely.” 

Jason looked up to make eye contact with Dick, “I was wondering how you went from angry at Bruce and the world to adopting the kids Bruce adopted.”

Dick chuckled, “I passed the angry child mantle down to you too. It comes with the post-Robin era.” He continued to trace the scar, “but seriously. Bruce having the emotional competency of a turnip while I was growing up really affected the way I connected with people. Then you came along, this kid, who despite having nothing but the clothes on his back, still loved with his whole heart. You were a lot like my parents in that sense. You turned Robin into a legacy, and I couldn’t think of a better person to have done that.” 

Jason turned away, “Fuck you. You’re making me cry.” They stayed like that in silence for a bit. “I, uh, found my old phone. And I listened to a bunch of the voicemails.”

He felt Dick tense up for a moment, “Oh?”

“You were Batman? Like I knew you were Batman with Damian, but I didn’t realize you were also Batman with Tim.”

He felt Dick relax under him, “That was not the direction I expected you to take.”

“I’m prioritizing.”

“Yeah, I was. It was only for a couple months, but I hated every moment of it then. Alfred was in England, and Bruce was training to get his strength up. I guess the good part was Tim. That was when we really got close. I think that was when I actually started to see him as my little brother.” Dick paused, “Though, if you’re bringing this up as a Segway to why make Damian Robin if you and Tim already had the Batman/Robin thing in the past, I did it because I saw Tim as an equal when it came to vigilantism. The Batman and Robin dynamic wouldn’t work with us.”

“Yeah… that makes sense.” Jason paused, “you killed the Joker?”

“Yeah.” Dick rested his head on top of Jason’s, “and just so you know, Bruce also came close right after he killed you. Close to the point where Clark had to stop him.”

“I never really wanted Bruce to kill the Joker. I just wanted him to prove he cared. If he had given me a hug, I probably would’ve stopped everything. I gotta tell him that.” He sat up, “Bro, Bruce said he was proud of me. I think he’s still following that mission to keep me happy.”

Dick snorted, “How do you know about that?”

“I snooped.” He shrugged and put his head back on Dicks chest, “I think we should make one for how Bruce should take care of all of us. And then make one for Tim to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep per day.” 

“But, seriously, we probably do.” He felt Dick start to fiddle with one of the bat charms in his hair as they fell back into silence. “Talia?”

Jason didn’t say anything. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Dick let out a breath, “You… listened to the voicemails, you know I… I won’t judge.”

Jason nodded and reached out to stroke Zitkas trunk, “I know I’m your… little brother, but you can talk to me too if you want to. It won’t change how I see you.”

Dick moved Zitka so she was closer to both of them, “yeah I know.”

Jason sighed, “I… I didn’t know how old I was until your birthday back in March. I simultaneously felt too old but too young. For everything.” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I get that.”

There was a long stretch of silence. It was the first time in a while that both of them had a heart to heart. It was the first time in a long time since they had an understanding between each other. 

“Is it bad? That I still see her as a mother?”

“Sheila?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” because even after the betrayal, he still knew she did it because she didn’t really have any other choice, “but I was talking about Talia.”

“Oh.” He heard Dicks jaw click. 

“So yeah?”

“No, it's not that.” Dick gave it some thought. Choosing his words carefully, “I mean, she took care of you when no one else did, so it makes sense, but…every adult figure in your life has let you down in some way, and you deserve so much better than that.”

Jason thought about it for a minute. His papi had turned to a life of crime, his mami fell victim to heroin. Sheila had chosen her own life and reputation over Jason, and Talia kinda just… took Jason in to score points with Bruce.

Bruce… Bruce could never fully be his dad. Not anymore. Not with all the bad blood. Not when Batman would always be more important. “It’s, uh, I guess it’s too late now, but I’ll never regret the three years I spent calling this manor my home. They were probably the best years of my life.” He pressed at a vein on Dicks hand. “Alfred and Bruce were good for me, though. They just… didn’t expect me to come back, which is understandable, but that was when I needed them the most.” He pulled Zitka in close, “Sometimes, I wonder what things would’ve been like if Bruce had found me instead of Talia.”

“I wonder that all the time too.” Dick continued to rub circles into Jason’s back, “You know, you’ll always be my little brother. My first little sibling. No matter how far apart we grow from each other, or if you annoy the shit out of me, You’ll always have a home in my heart. I promise.”

Jason stayed quiet while he basked in the comfort of his older brother for a while. Soaking in the feeling, making up for the years lost without it. “I love you too.”

After Jason was done talking to Dick he went straight to the kitchen. For one, he was hungry, because magic sucks, and he also felt the need to do something. Specifically, bake a strawberry cake. Because of course he had forgotten about his tradition with Alfred. Even during his past Birthday he had spent in Gotham, he didn’t— he didn’t even celebrate at all. He remembered it was his birthday, he just didn’t know how many candles to put on the cake. 

Jason just wanted to do this with Alfred. Like old times. Of course, Alfred was still out getting the groceries, and it felt like he’d been out for years, but nonetheless, he was a grown man allowed in the kitchen. So he started getting out the ingredients for the cake. 

Except they did not have any strawberries. Which put a real stickler in Jason’s plan because the fresh strawberries were the best part. They added a burst of tartness with each bit and balanced out the sweetness of the buttercream. 

Just then Alfred came through the kitchen with a brown paper bag. He looked from Jason to the countertop that had a neat array of ingredients and then back to Jason with a smile. Alfred set down the bag and reached into it. “I suppose we had the same idea, my boy.” He pulled out two boxes of the fancy strawberries he always got. “You’re going to have to double the recipe.” Alfred pulled out two more boxes. 

“Alright, Alfred.” Jason smiled back, and exchanged the bowl he’d originally taken out for a bigger one. Even though Alfred was working on dinner and Jason was working on the cake, they fell back into their old rhythm. 

One by one his siblings started filing in. First Cass, who nabbed a strawberry. Then Damian, who Jason may or may not have discretely gotten flour on his face, making him look absolutely adorable. And while Jason was pouring the batter into the pan Duke, Tim, walked in, so he had given them the bowl and spoon to clean off. 

He got started on the buttercream, slowly adding the strawberry compote that he’d made before he’d made the batter, when a finger made its way into the bowl, and then swiped his nose. 

He swatted at Dick when he tried to get another dollop to taste, “Nope. Nuh uh. Getchur fingers away from my buttercream.”

“Come on! Duke and Tim got to lick the batter!”

“And I was going to give this spatula to you, but if you're being impatient, it’s going to Cass.” 

Dick huffed and rounded the counter, sitting on the chair next to Cass. 

Tim and Damian were bickering, and Duke was adding comments that seemed to be egging on both sides. The subtle agent of chaos. 

Jason took the cake out of the oven and put it on a rack to cool. He made his way back to Alfred, who had just put the stove on simmer, and held his hand, “Thank you, Alfred.” 

“Whatever for, my boy?”

Jason observed everyone in the room. Cass ruffling Tim’s hair, and Duke finally cracking. Dick wiping the flour off of Damian’s face while he huffed about not tolerating this childish behavior. Bruce leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen with a fond smile on his face. “Wishing for this. For Bruce to have people to live for. For wishing for me back.”

Alfred smiled and looked at Jason, “I always assumed it was you who made it happen. Using your magic to put everyone in a place to meet eventually before coming back to us yourself. And I am so so grateful that you did.”

And Jason knew Alfred meant it. Because it was Alfred. It was Alfred who loved them all so much that they were all just as much his kids as they were Bruce’s. Bruce might’ve built this family, but Alfred held it steady. 

Jason rested his head on Alfred’s shoulder. “You mean so much to me, Alfred.”

Alfred brought a hand up to cup Jason’s cheek, “However much I mean to you, I can assure you, you mean infinitely more to me.”

And Jason knew that. He picked his head up to look at Alfred, and gave him a smirk, “Does this mean I’m your favorite?”

Alfred raised his eyebrows, “I care for you all equally.”

Jason could feel himself grin from ear to ear, because yup. He was definitely Alfred’s favorite, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” 

He went back over to the cake and started frosting it, casting another look at everyone in the room. He made eye contact with Bruce and offered him a smile, and he returned it. 

If someone had asked Jason a week ago if he considered these people his family he probably would have shot them in the face. He’d been so afraid his entire life that the home he’d founded would never be permanent. He had thought in the past five years he had lost the love he had gained. He thought it had all died along with him. Except it hadn’t. It had grown so much bigger and was waiting to engulf him back into the fold. Jason was finally ready to walk back into it.

The door opened, and Stephanie Brown slid across the wood and used Bruce to stop her momentum, “Guess who’s ready to collect blackmail consisting of Sunshine–” She paused and caught sight of him, “Jason! You’re a giant again.” She huffed, “I was going to convince little you that I was your favorite.”

“Blondie, you scared little me.” He held up the piping bag with the strawberry compote, “Quick, what should I write on the cake.”

Steph walked over and punched his shoulder, “ I lived, Bitches! All caps. ‘X’s to dot the ‘I’s.”

“You do know your don’t dot capital ‘I’s right?” Jason looked over to Alfred for permission.

“Well, Master Jason, You did live. Let the bitches know.”

The whole room erupted into howls of laughter, as Jason grinned and piped the words onto the cake, “Hell yeah, I lived Bitches.”

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part One Summary: After her parents death, Lori is back at the club she grew up in and finds herself being sent away with an attractive but completely unknown biker.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.3k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part One Warnings:

Mention of death, drug use, violence, body fluids, slight angst, blink and you'll miss it implication of smut.

Authors Note: I've been working on this story for about nine months, maybe more? I keep thinking I'm going to forget about it, but it keeps worming its way back into my brain and the only way to purge it is to write it and post it, so I woke up this morning and decided fuck it, post it.

I have a heap of people to thank for discussing the story with me and for beta reading. Because it's been such a long process, if I have forgotten you, I sincerely apologise. So thanks a million to @amberangel112 @henryobsessed @littlefreya @nashibirne

I hope you enjoy it!

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Two

Lori

When I noticed the gathering started winding down and some of the out of state clubs began to leave, I was able to breathe a little easier for the first time in two weeks.

Although I thought it unlikely that the uneasy truce of a wake would be disturbed by anything more than a punch up, I still worried about it and the subsequent attention of the media and the cops. I had hopes that my face wouldn't be plastered all over the news, but it seemed a little unlikely given the scrutiny that the funeral had been under. I was under no illusions that my brother would escape unscathed.

Thinking of my brother made me glance at Nate. 

I sighed; It was a good thing the media weren’t here now, and the cops were too chicken shit to try and breach the walls of the compound.

With a rolled-up $50 note up his nose and two women hanging off him, Nate was the epitome of the biker stereotype. His dirty blonde hair hung to his shoulders, his face was hardened and scarred, making him seem older than his thirty years, as did the tattooed cursive on his forehead just beneath his hairline. 

Nate took his hit, throwing his head back and wiping at his nose. He grinned as he sniffed and handed the note to one of the girls. I could hear his snort across the room and above the thrumming beat of the dance music; his nostrils must be fucked. 

From what I knew, he’d been like this for days, and although normally he tried to hide the extent of his drug habit from me, the fact he was openly high and allowing one of the girls to rub his crotch showed how far gone he was.

I’d like to think his behaviour was a one off, that it was his way of dealing with Mum and Dad's death. But I doubted it.

So much had changed since I last spent any time at the clubhouse to the point where it was almost unrecognisable. The common room used to be homey despite being in an industrial building; carpeted with soft sofas, plush rugs and sturdy wooden coffee tables. Now it was like a nightclub, complete with stripper poles, black and red leather sofas, smoky glass topped tables, and neon lights.

I hated it.

Crossing my legs, I started to get angry. I used to love coming here when Dad was President, seeing all my uncles and their families. Even memories of the sweets and sodas the guys used to sneak me behind my mother’s back wasn’t enough to calm my mood. Thoughts of the last few times I was here were too vivid. Seeing what my father and brother had become and the way my uncles had stopped seeing me as a little girl made me stop coming here about five years ago. It was also about the time Mum had finally decided to divorce Dad.

I’d had enough, seen enough. Nate didn’t even appear to be on planet earth anymore; he won’t notice if I slip out. I’ll just go home, have a long bath, maybe call Jake and invite him over.

As stealthily as I could, I got my bag and nearly made it to the small cut out of the closed roller door when a Prospect laid a hand roughly on my wrist. His fingers dug into my skin painfully and he pulled my arm with a short jerk, bringing me closer, until my body bumped into his.

“Hooks wants a word,” he said, all smug and grinning as if this idiot knew what Nate would want with me. 

I didn’t know him, but I knew a million like him, and he thinks he knows me. He thinks I’m just another girl, one of the desperate groupies who hang around hoping to tame a wild biker or use them for drugs or clout. He obviously didn’t know Nate was my brother, or he’d never lay a hand on me.

Looking down at my wrist, I smirked before raising my eyes, letting as much of my anger seep through as I dared. I may have been out of the life for years, but I still knew how to play the game.

“I suggest you remove your hand, Prospect before…”

I didn’t get to finish my warning as a fist smashed into the boy’s face. His nose made a sickening crunch followed by a crimson spray of blood which splattered on the floor barely missing my heels.

The fist belonged to Hustle who was grinning like a Cheshire cat at the chance to expel some pent up aggression. He was Nate’s Sergeant at Arms, his enforcer, and my father’s before that. He loved a bit of a fight, but he wasn’t crazy, his violence was usually held on a tight leash.

“Fuck off, pup,” he growled. His eyes danced, obviously not 100% sober, but it was alcohol rather than drugs that Hustle preferred.

The Prospect held his nose and his tongue, but the fiery hatred that burned in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.

“Hooks wants her,” he managed to say, spitting blood onto the concrete floor.

“I’ll take her to her brother,” Hustle said, amused at the way the Prospect's face went white and his eyes widened. Hustle chuckled as the Prospect mumbled apologies to me and scampered away.

“Think he’ll make it?” I asked Hustle when he turned back to me. 

Hustle shrugged, it wasn’t really his decision to make but being a senior member of the club, his opinion had weight. 

“Takes a punch like a champ, that’s a good sign.” Then he smiled at me, “You alright, Babycakes?”

I mirrored his smile, I couldn’t help it; until two weeks ago no one had called me Babycakes in years. I had almost forgotten the nickname until I was suddenly and violently thrust back into this world. 

The name had been bestowed on me when I was a kid. I had complained bitterly that everyone else I knew had a cool nickname and I wanted one too. I can’t remember who first called me that, it was probably Hustle himself. He was one of the few guys in the club I still trusted, he never made a pass at me as I grew into a woman, and that had meant a lot to me at the time. It still did.

“Yeah, I’m good. What does Nate want?”

“Dunno,” Hustle lied smoothly.

I rolled my eyes at him, and he shrugged again. He’d defend me against anyone, but his loyalty was to the club before anything and anyone else, including me. 

“C’mon,” he said, putting a soft hand on my upper back and guiding me gently but firmly to my father’s old office.

The room was one thing that Nate hadn’t changed in the years since he’d slowly taken over Dad’s empire. The office was still clad in rich wood panelling, painted blood red, with black accents. Various memorabilia filled the room including a large fresco of the club’s Colours which drew the eye to the wall behind my father’s dark timbre desk. I remember when Dad commissioned it, he had been so proud to show it off.

Nate was standing near the desk, talking to another biker I’d never met before. I didn’t remember seeing him at the funeral, but there were a lot of out of towners there. 

He was good looking enough, with close cropped hair, a scruffy dark brown beard and bright blue eyes that seemed intelligent but still had that familiar aura of danger that I used to think all men possessed. Physically broad and well built, he didn’t strike me as a guy who indulged in vices the way Nate and most of his club did. He seemed fit, if a little soft around the edges; he had the body of a strong man rather than a bodybuilder. His thick arms were visible below the sleeves of his black t-shirt, revealing black and grey tattoos of engines, flames, smoke and skulls. Memento Mori was written in cursive across his throat, though it was partially hidden by his beard. My Brother’s Keeper was etched along one forearm and Never Alone across the other, both in the same elaborate script and gaudy silver and gold rings encircled nearly all his fingers. He would make an imposing figure to anyone who hadn’t grown up with men like him.

His jacket was hanging on the back of one of the chairs in front of my father’s desk. I couldn’t place the colours, except of course for the 1% patch. He had to be from out of state, I knew all the clubs in Nevada, but I had never heard of The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood and the large wolf’s head howling at the moon was too recognisable for me to have forgotten a patch like that.

Out of Town nodded towards me as I entered the room. I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes; maybe he had been at the funeral after all. He seemed polite and business-like on the surface, but his eyes studied me intently, lingering briefly on my breasts. 

To be fair though, his gaze was practically that of a gentleman’s in this world so I let it slide and nodded back to him before lazily flopping on one of the leather sofas, hoping my casualness would hide my apprehension.

“What do you want, Nate?” I asked, hoping I sounded terse rather than worried.

“I need to talk to you about some things,” he said, sounding surprisingly level-headed considering the copious amounts of drugs he’s been taking. The words ‘functional addict’ crossed my mind. 

“I’ve been here all day, hell, I’ve been around for nearly two weeks. You’ve had all that time to talk to me, now I’m tired and I want to go home. Can’t we talk about it tomorrow?”

“The contact only just got finalised,” he explained.

“A contract?” I shook my head. “No. You know I don’t want to know anything about—”

“This contract is about you,” Nate interrupted.

I blinked and looked from Nate to Out of Town to Hustle and back to Nate. “Excuse me?”

“For your protection,” Nate added.

“I’m not in the life, I don’t—”

“Neither was your mum, Babycakes,” Hustle said softly.

I felt a sudden chill at Hustle’s words. I could believe that in my brother’s drug-addled state he was being overprotective, or plain paranoid, but Hustle wasn’t prone to exaggeration. 

Hustle had loved Mum and not in a way that was disrespectful. He seemed to admire her, respecting her fidelity and steadfastness. There weren’t a lot of women like Mum in the circle’s Hustle ran in. Most women wanted to play the bad boy game, they liked the danger of a biker, the excitement of an untameable man. Love was rarely long term, and Hustle knew that as well as anyone after three failed marriages. 

It wasn’t just the women who didn’t stick around, most of the men couldn’t keep their cocks in their pants. Even Dad had been known to screw around on occasion while he was still married to Mum. It was the life and it was another reason I avoided it.

“You said she was collateral damage, you said she wasn’t a target,” I said to Hustle, unable to keep the accusation of dishonesty from my tone.

“New information has come to light,” Nate responded and I turned my ire towards him with a glower. He raised a finger at me and continued, “Specific threats against all our families. Most of the guys have already moved their women and kids out of state, and since I don’t have a woman or kids, the threat is on the last of my family. You.”

I knew where this was going now. The past two weeks had been intense and not just because of my parents death. Everywhere I went I needed permission from Nate and if he did let me leave, it was with Hustle or one of the other senior club members. I thought it was because of the cops or media attention. 

“Fuck.” I dropped my head into my hands. 

It’s not the first time I’ve had to leave the state. Hell, once a few years ago, Mum and I had to go to Canada and stay with a friendly club up there for three months. Anger boiled in me, I thought I was out, free from this shit. I should have known better, no one ever truly leaves the life. 

“How long?” I asked.

“Until the threat is eliminated,” Nate said matter of factly. I could have smacked him.

“Fucking hell!”

“I’m sorry, Lori.” 

I looked up at Nate. He never apologised and although it seemed genuine, it didn’t diminish my anger. He obviously felt guilty about something and I wondered how much to blame he was for what was going on; how badly he had fucked up? However, the appearance of regret in Nate’s eyes was fleeting, and he became cold and business-like again. 

“This is Syverson,” Nate pointed to Out of Towner, “His club specialises in protection. You’ll be going with him to their clubhouse just outside of Dallas and waiting it out with them.”

“Texas? Across half the fucking country? Come on, Nate, really? I thought you meant New Mexico or California.”

“It’s where I live,” Syverson finally spoke up. 

His voice surprised me. He was a southerner and his drawl was subtle but it was there, and his tone was soothingly deep. 

“We take long term protection cases back to the clubhouse. It’s secure and well fortified and more guys to share the load,” Syverson smiled at me. I suppose he meant for it to be reassuring, but it came across as patronising.

“You’ll leave tonight,” Nate said. “All the clubs leaving is good cover; no one will notice another biker and his old lady heading out.”

“Wait, we’re going on his bike? To Dallas? That’ll take a week!” My thighs and hips groaned at the prospect. That’s a long time on a bike and I haven’t ridden that far in years.

“Three days, if we make some headway tonight,” Syverson said and like a mind reader he added, “We’ll stop plenty to stretch your legs, sugar.” 

I raised my eyebrows at ‘sugar’, but Nate didn’t blink. Hustle gave him some side-eye that Syverson caught but ignored. That was interesting. Despite never hearing of him before, for Hustle to let it go meant this guy, or his club, or both, had some serious clout.

Looking at the three men I could see no way out of this; my shoulders slumped and I gave up. My parents were dead, my brother was a criminal and a drug addict, and I was being pulled back into a world I thought I had left behind. I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn’t show any sign of weakness, so I stayed angry instead. I figured it would be better to give in and go with Syverson and try to worm my way home later. I knew Nate well enough that if I tried to fight him he wouldn’t be above handcuffing me to Syverson and basically allowing him to kidnap me.

I looked again at Syverson. He stared back at me, not trying to stare me down like a lot of bikers do, but as if he were trying to show me he had nothing to hide. His eyes didn’t waver as they held mine, no sign of shifty glances, no sign that he wasn’t who he appeared to be. He was either trustworthy or an extremely good actor. Not even my brother could look at me like that.

“I’ll have to go home, pack and change,” I said, waving a hand over my black dress. There was no way I could get on a bike in my tight pencil skirt and maintain any dignity. “You’ll let me do that, right?”

Nate grinned and nodded. “Hustle will drive you home in the van, Syverson will follow, get you packed and then you’ll leave tonight.”

Gritting my teeth I dipped my head to Nate. He returned the gesture and I saw again the brief look of guilt in his eyes. I glanced at Hustle, but he was already walking out the door.

I followed Hustle and Syverson through the clubhouse and got into the van, barely registering what was going on. I had too many thoughts in my mind and I was already mentally making a list of what to pack. I knew I’d have to pack light, bikes weren’t exactly ideal for hauling luggage.

I clenched my fists in frustration as Hustle drove out of the compound. Three days on a bike, plus God only knows how long I was supposed to be at the clubhouse. There was no way I’d have enough space for all the clothes and other things I would normally take like books, my laptop and my hair straightener.

I sighed heavily and looked out the window. It was already dark and I was a little hungry, but my anger and nervousness masked most of the pangs I felt in my belly.

“It's going to be okay, Babycakes,” Hustle said, confidently “The Club’s been through shit like this before and we’ve come good.”

“Back when you had Dad,” I pointed out, “He always had a cool head for situations like this.”

“Hook’s is up to it.”

“Yeah? Think he’ll lay off the coke long enough to think rationally? It was probably something dumb he did to get the Club in the shit in the first place.”

“Babycakes,” Hustle said with a warning tone in his voice.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he didn’t fuck with the wrong guy or get too greedy. Tell me exactly why I’m being shipped off?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Of course not. I’m just a fucking mushroom y’all keep in the dark and feed me shit.”

Hustle chuckled and I stared daggers at him, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows.

“You’re cute when you get angry, Babycakes.”

“Fuck you,” I growled, but my lips twitched and I had to suppress a grin, Hustle was just too damn likeable.

I stared out the window again and saw in the side mirror that a single headlight was following us. It must be my ride.

“What do you know about him?” I tilted my head towards Syverson riding behind us. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Supposedly ex-military, but that's just a rumour. They're all supposedly ex-something, but…” Hustle shrugged.

“No one knows?”

Hustle shook his head.

“Do you know anything about the club, The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Not much, except that they’re small, selective and secretive. They’ve got a good reputation, powerful despite their size, specialising in protection and a few other things.”

I nodded slowly. It didn’t make sense to me that a small nonaffiliated club from halfway across the country would take me in. Always before when I was sent away, it had been to a branch of my fathers club, or one they were heavily associated with. It must be costing Nate a fortune for the club to work with him.

“It’s bad isn’t it, Hustle?” I asked softly, feeling a small spike of fear working its way into my gut.

“Just do what they tell you to and you'll be fine, Babycakes.” Hustle laid a gentle hand on my knee and gave me a fatherly pat before putting his hand back on the wheel. “They’ll take good care of you. They’re to be trusted.”

[morganrat]

The Resurrection of John Ward

A Faith: The Unholy Trinity alternate universe, created by me :3

(probably contains some game spoilers)

How it is...

!!IMPORTANT DISCLAIMERS!!

✦ THIS ISN'T SUPER IN DEPTH, it is SIMPLE!! My Father Ward wasn't created with anything deep in mind, the headcanons just diverged too much and I ended up making a mini story hdjdjshdshj

✦ I BARELY KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!! I've never actually played FTUT, I'm just going off of fandom wikis and youtube videos

✦ IM PROJECTING A LOT!! This is MY little thing IM working on that I created. This isn't for any of you, it's a way for me to cope and look into myself and my religious trauma and yall are just here for the ride

✦ I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT PLOTHOLES!! It really ain't that serious 😭 (it gets less serious and more casual as i keep writing LMAO)

now that that's outta the way,

How he came to be...

✦ After submitting to the evil he was destined to defeat, allowing the initiation of the Profane Sabbath, Father Ward is no more. Everyone's memories, the Martin house, Amy, Michael, his entire existence wiped clean from the face of the universe.

Well, in HIS universe...

✦ Meanwhile someone not that far away was observing very intently. Being plastered onto millions of screens, he would come to be FAR from forgotten.

✦ Fueled by surges of passion, obsession, and the usage of way too much ink, Father Ward would come to be yet again.

✦ His soul being handed to the one holding the pen that brings him life, Father Ward is rebirthed as an angel in the new world. The honoring of him despite his faith being destroyed, gives him another chance.

How he is doing...

✦ After a little while of confusion surrounding the sudden change in his environment and physique, he quickly became adjusted to his new home.

✦ He slowly starts to loosen up, wandering the new universe appreciating its unusual beauties.

✦ He has nearly nothing to dread now, for his vengeful god and twisted devil have no reign over him here. You can say his faith is dwindling especially after what happened, realizing his god is not in fact infinite.

✦ He DOES still suffer from horrible nightnares, about Amy and the Profane Sabbath...

✦ He also still smokes, his asthma is still very much present, and he has been to the emergency room on several occasions (and counting 😭)

✦ Though it seems like every day he starts to look younger and healthier, with no bible to read he picks up gardening, now carrying with him a flower instead of a cross. His cassock is also now a comfy onesie :3

More about him... (silly)

✦ Before picking up gardening, he attempted to cook and bake! That didn't last long though, he set the ovenstove on fire four times now... When he isn't causing a grease fire though, he can make MEAN scrambled eggs 🗣❗ im talkin GORDON RAMSAY typa shit

✦ Severely allergic to dandelions, he finds ONE in his garden and he freaks the fuck out, Father Ward is vehemently against using any kind of pesticides though

✦ Holding hands with him is nice, his paws are calloused yet gentle from manual labor, he clips his claws regularly so he doesnt accidently hurt the flowers <3

✦ He has paw beans

✦ He secretly sings silly little songs when nobody's around (and when there are people, he hums), it helps him calm down from waves of anxiety, kinda like @littledoof's panic singing LMAO

✦ Father Ward is also growing accustomed to the other residents, the millions of people he reaches in the online space. He's a bit closed off (for now) but still kind to everyone he meets

✦ YES Father Ward IS interactive!! You can talk to him through my ask box, and he will frequently mingle with other posts he finds to be interesting!

✦ Settling down from all the fighting demons and counting the days, slowly but surely he is beginning to find peace, and you all are with him for the journey if youd like to be :)

@400-gallons-of-catholic-guilt

taggin you bc u said u were excited :>

[hoes4hoseok]

enhypen as folklore

i enjoyed writing this so so so much and i had forgotten how much i liked writing these! the last few i churned out from a sense of obligation but i had a lot of fun with this one :) i hope you like it!

ni-ki as my tears ricochet

"cursing my name, wishing i stayed, look at how my tears ricochet"

i'm so sorry for this...we sure are starting with a bang because the lyric "i can go anywhere i want, just not home" physically makes me ache when i'm thinking about ni-ki 😭

1. he's literally far from home irl & 2. if you were with ni-ki...he'd feel like home & any end to the relationship would make you feel lost

overall, i just associate that type of hurt with ni-ki (yikes🤧💔)

jay as mirrorball

"i'm still on that tightrope, i'm still tryin' everything to get you laughing at me"

oh my goodness jay is such a mirrorball.

i'm not saying that he's desperate for attention or that he doesn't get any, (that's not what the song describes, anyways) but rather that he's trying. his best.

i get it if you don't understand the vision at first glance but after i gave it some thought i can see it so clearly

jungwon as seven

"we can be pirates, then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet"

this song is so sweet & innocent in how it describes a childhood perspective of things & how simple we thought problems were then

i think that jungwon maintains a little bit of that innocent optimism even though he's older now :)

what really seals the deal for me is that he's the leader & literally solves problems for the group all the time (presumably)

i don't mean that he solves them like a child would, but the nostalgic comfort that the song brings is similar to the comfort i feel you'd get talking to jungwon 🤧

jake as august

"august slipped away into a moment in time 'cause it was never mine"

jake is wouldn't hurt you on purpose, & i think that goes without saying because he seems like such a sweetheart

but man, if you catch him at a vulnerable moment when his heart resides with someone else...he will break. your. heart.

the whole idea of not being able to call the end of a relationship what it is in your heart because you were never really together & he never really cared the way you did...CHILLS. terrifying. (my heart goes out to those who have experienced that irl, i'm so sorry).

jake fits the idea because i think he's trustworthy. like,, he could smile & you'd probably be sold (no offense)

again, at the end of the day, he didn't mean to hurt you. maybe that's what hurts most 👊

heeseung as illicit affairs

"you know damn well, for you, i would ruin myself a million little times"

i've always heard this song in two ways: a very literal sense of having a physical affair in secret && a more emotional version of it

personally, i can picture myself getting my heart broken by heeseung in both senses! might just be me though 😀

the thing is, he seems so charming & falling fast for him would be so easy that if you did, it's very possible that he wouldn't fall in the same way you did (i'm crying the song has been playing on loop for ten minutes now)

i was originally gonna give this one to jay & mirrorball to heeseung!! lmk what you think

sunoo as betty

"the only thing i wanna do is make it up to you"

sunoo would 100% be willing to serenade his apology...that being said, i do not think he's a cheater!

i feel like if he hurt you he'd want to make it up to you & apologize at the same time instead of hoping you just take the apology alone...like this man will make you feel WORTH IT

AGAIN he'd never cheat though ✋ (i think) but if he made you feel bad he's gonna fix it,, he isn't leaving you feeling like an old cardigan under someone's bed

for the record, i'm a 'betty takes james back' truther though.

sunghoon as the lakes

"i'm setting off, but not without my muse, no, not without you"

i am so passionate about preaching how this song & sunghoon are perfect for each other EEK

i love assigning songs about heartbreak to sunghoon because i just see him as a heartbreaker (whoops) but whoever he DOES end up with (if anyone) is one lucky mf

the idea of "all you need is each other" makes me melt because it's so so so romantic

it's not realistic for all couples & that's okay but i can see sunghoon wanting that kind of relationship someday :)

but beyond that he's also private & not very social (by his own description) so he just generally seems like he'd resonate with it 🥰

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