#But that might be an emphasis on his younger side so I will let it go.. FOR NOW 😤😤

[duncanor]

Unpopular opinion but Legato should not have been introduced in season 1 of Stampede.

#dunkar rant #trigun #Trigun stampede #legato bluesummers #Listen he's one of my specialest blorbo #HOWEVER #His introduction is botched and his screentime minimal #His behavior in episode 6 to 7 is incomprehensible to me #Like I know Legato isn't above petty vengeance #That's part of his thing sure #But with Zazie on board? And Livio??? #Plus why making Legato focus on Wolfwood #Hmmm #They probably will develop this further in season 2 #However as it stand now it's weird 👀 #I'm not really liking the religious zealot vibe either so far #But that might be an emphasis on his younger side so I will let it go.. FOR NOW 😤😤

[netegf]

violet chemistry (ii)

pairing: aged up!ao'nung x f!metkayina reader

plot: you and ao'nung attempt to regain control in your lives by fake-dating. the irony is… this is fated.

word count: 2.7k

a/n: the next instalment in my fake-dating!, friends to lovers!, best friend’s brother!au - once again, this takes place roughly 10 years after atwow - some pining + flirting, made-up rituals, attempts at comedy, & angst (WILL be resolved)! i really hope you enjoy part 2 🥹💖

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In all honesty, Ao’nung has been trying his hardest to avoid you. Only, that impulse is very quickly thwarted when he considers how many clan gatherings and rituals courting Na’vi couples attend together. Sitting before you and the azure clay bowl of paint you hold in your hand, for the first time in a long time, Ao’nung has a single thought. He really hadn’t thought this through.

“Stop moving.” You hum, brows pinched together in concentration as you swirl the coal-coloured paint with a brush much like the baleen of a whale’s mouth. Sitting with the feelings he’s been having, a part of him wonders what it might be like to be suspended in water and consumed entirely into the jaws of a sea beast. He listens almost immediately, then realizes that’s slightly out of character for him, resorting to a slight narrow of the eye that makes him look younger than he is.  

“You’re strangely quiet.” Your eyes bore holes into him, but he has a gift for escaping confrontation – staring somewhere off in the distance until his vision blurs.

Ao’nung hopes he looks nonchalant when he shrugs, but knows you. Knows that your keen. He doesn’t know how many times he’s come to communal dinner with a face he thought he’d fixed, but you'd been able to tell there was something off. A mediator of energy; you might as well have been able to smell it off him. But this wasn’t something he could let go of. He might’ve saved his favourite kills for you during the hunt in childhood, but this was profound. Pandora spins on a different axis. Everything looks like it’s in a different colour. How long had he loved his friend?

“Yeah.” He admits, chewing on his bottom lip. “Just worried you’re gonna, y’know… ruin my face for life?”

You roll your eyes with emphasis.

The ritual he refers to is one in which courting Metkayina couples draw facial tattoos for each other in paint, emulating what might one day be permanent. Unfortunately, Ao’nung has known you long enough to know that artistry has not been one of your most obvious gifts, and you pinch your eyes at him as the smug words leave his mouth.

“Shut up.” You hiss. “Or I’ll draw Lo’ak on your cheek.”

“Ambitious goal for an amateur.” He punches back, then nearly recoils.

Ao’nung can feel himself being mean – meaner than usual – and it casts a cloud of shame over him. He really thought he’d passed that point in his life where he masqueraded around his feelings and hacked them up alone until his throat bled. Childish, it felt. Something that gave him grief and gratitude – annoyed at his immaturity, but a strange sense of happiness at the fact that he could afford it. Still, you deserved better, and that pained him.

You grant him a small scoff then continue your ministrations.

Naturally, his eyes come to focus on your eyebrows knitted together, your tongue darting out of your mouth ever so slightly as the artistic vision you have in your mind comes to fruition, the subtle tremor of your careful hands. Instinctively, one of his hands comes up to stabilize yours, gripping the joint of your wrist.

Breath hitching just slightly, you quirk a brow. “You know… if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you’re enjoying this.”

“Gotta get you to my mom.” He mumbles, hand dropping to his side like a dead fly. “Get your eyes checked.”

After a few more strokes of the brush, and a couple dozen eyerolls, the design is finished.

“Done.” You say happily, fingers holding Ao’nung’s chin as you admire your handy work.

The pattern isn’t particularly complex or striking, but it decorates the high points of his face, each dark shape a representation of his achievement and growth as a hunter, as future Olo'eyktan, and your favourite – boy that loves the water.

Ao’nung’s eyes widen when he takes in his reflection.

“It’s, uh… more subtle than I thought it would be.” He says finally, clearing his throat, heat colouring his cheeks a new kind of colour.

He had to admit, it was pretty. He must have imagined what this would feel like a thousand times in his life. That one day, he’d rise to his rank, wear his adornments, and feel completely different. Feel like he was worthy of his position in the clan. To his surprise, time moved fast, but he very rarely did. All Ao’nung felt over the years was a lot of sameness – but today, wearing your tattoos on his face, he felt a sense of pride pang in his chest. He looked the part, and maybe that meant something.

“Well, we can’t have the clan forgetting you’re handsome. However would they stand your prickly temperament?”

Ao’nung feels prepared to roll his eyes at the diss, but then he catches himself. Better yet, he catches you, saying something you hadn’t exactly meant to reveal, but knew to be true nonetheless. He looks at you cautiously.

“You think I’m handsome?”

Chewing your bottom lip, you contemplate for a moment. Was there really anything wrong with admitting it? Just about everyone on the reef thought so, he had to have known that.

“Everyone thinks you’re handsome, Ao.” You try to soothe over the slip-up. “People line up to see you when you come back from the hunt, I think someone fainted when you tamed tsurak, this information can’t be surpris-,”

“But you.” He says quickly, eyes excruciatingly earnest. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Yes…I do.”

Ao’nung supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, and yet he is. He wasn’t a stranger to be being praised for his looks, but this was uncharted territory – a line that had never been crossed, and maybe intentionally so. Since when did you think so? Since when did a compliment for him fall so easily off your pretty lips and tongue like you were the only one he was meant to receive such words from?

You must have noticed his slow blinks and slightly gaping mouth as he thinks through it all, because then you’re saying something that has him absolutely reeling.

“Eywa, if that blows your mind, how are you going to react to the fact that I had a crush on you half my life?”

There’s a hint of humour in your tone, but Ao’nung is having a hard time understanding why it’s so funny – eyes nearly bulging out and erratic breaths practically choking him.

“Had?” He stammers, past-tense poking a hole in his heart. “When?”

“When?” You snort. “Like, forever. Well, until I grew out of it.”

He must look insane, brain jumping from thought to thought, zoning in on words that illuminate a fire in his gut, and others that just as quickly put the fire out in a wade of water that he, for once, does not welcome. A revelation, and the revocation of it. A sparkling jewel in his palm mere seconds before it disintegrates, leaving no trace of what once was, as if it were merely a tantalizing mirage and nothing more.  

“When the Sully’s arrived?”

“Yup.” You say too casually for his liking, popping the ‘p’. “And before… and after.”

“But I was so mean.”

He bites his tongue almost bitterly, almost incredulous. He had admirers over the years, sure – but those were souls that knew him from great distance, and there was comfort in that. But you… you knew him. Not just the great triumphs, but the pitfalls which were equal in magnitude and not for the faint hearted. He had to admit, his concept of love was more superficial. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel it, at least not in the way his parents did – in his eyes, they got lucky, and his future partnership was bound to be more political than it was anything else. And maybe that was his crutch, the lack of feeling. Maybe that was the reason he’d never crossed this line, never entertained having you as his.

Because that would be all-consuming. That would be the truest thing he’d ever felt – really a fish out of water like everyone pegged him to be. Painfully new, and painfully beautiful, and completely unrecoverable if it ended up not working out.

Though at this moment, he hates himself for that careful distance between you – the way this is a wound you’ve presumably healed from, while he bleeds out right before your eyes.  

“What can I say?” You smile, teasing him in the way you do, the way he loves. “I like a challenge.”

“Right.” He manages, breath still shaky, but the corners of his mouth slowly lifting.

The tide was changing and he needed to find a way to make it stop.

Apparently, his father was right. All those years spent build levees would finally coming to good use.

The night’s festivities are an especially generous feast and a series of dance rituals that you, while hesitant to admit it, know like the back of your hand.

Ao’nung sits with his father and other seasoned hunters in the clan, nodding absentmindedly to their spirited conversation about tracking game, which he admittedly knew very little about.

Really, he smiled when they smiled, stroked his chin when they seemed to debate something, and when he really hadn’t a clue what Tonowari was saying, gave a pretend laugh followed by a silent prayer to the great mother that he wasn’t being informed about someone’s death.

He had more important matters to mull over. Like you, sitting across the fire pit, engrossed in a conversation with his sister.

Entirely too receptive to his gaze, you momentarily stall from your speech to meet his eyes, lips curving into a small smile and hands giving a tentative wave. Ao’nung opts out of waving back but holds his piercing stare, convinced that the rounds of your eyes are more illuminating than the fire – and unlike its embers, your luminosity will stay.

“My son,” Tonowari’s voice booms over the overlapping chatter. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”  

Ao’nung nearly chokes, the tips of his ears turning an endearing shade of purple as he realizes he’s been gawking for far too long, and the last topic he recalls listening to was three conversations ago.

“I think, uh… everyone has made some important points.” He mumbles, while you and Tsireya snicker at him from across the fire.

Tonowari quirks an eyebrow at him, but luckily, chooses not to harp on it. He slaps a hand over Ao’nung’s back as if to excuse him from the conversation – not that he was contributing much anyways.

Ao’nung smiles gratefully and quickly makes his way over to you, scratching the back of his neck.

“Was that as embarrassing as I think it was?”

“Even more.” You laugh, scrunching your nose in a teasing kind of sympathy. “But it’s okay, we still love you.”

The ease to which the word ‘love’ falls out of your mouth makes him wince a little – this wasn’t the kind of love he’d found himself craving from you as of late, tossing and turning in his marui when he’s meant to be sleeping, very much aware that he’s awake behind those closed eyelids. He turns to Tsireya.

“Can I borrow her?” He asks as his sister’s eyes swell with intrigue. He feels the need to explain. “For a dance.”

Tsireya nods, a small smirk on her face before she dismisses herself.

“Duty calls?” You ask, shivering as his hands find their place on your hips, the pair of you slowly swaying back and forth to the beat of ceremonial drums. This is a practice for all courting Na’vi couples – they surround you at all sides, clumsily moving their bodies and giggling together, their love almost something physical in the air.

“Something like that.” He mumbles, eyes sheepishly raking over you. “You look nice.”

“I don’t have any extra food, Ao.”

“What? I don’t want your food.” He erupts. “I’m being serious.”

“Oh, okay. In that case, thanks. You look nice, too.”

Ao’nung’s ears perk up, toothy canines peeking out from under his lips in a sideways smile. He hopes the budding violet colour on your cheeks means what he thinks it does.

“So, what have you been up to?”

“Since I saw you this morning?” You repeat, eyebrow slightly raised.

“Yes. I mean, no.” He breathes shakily, rubbing his face in dismay. “Or, you know, in general.”

“Nothing too crazy.” You say softly, a certain lamenting in your voice. “I kind of live in a box, remember?”

Ao’nung nods. He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking for a moment, the heels of his feet burning as he tries to think up a way to make that sad look in your eye disappear.

“But I’m here.” He offers.

“Yeah. You’re here.”

The way your eyes soften as you say words has his heart soaring. He leans in a little closer, the rhythmic buzzing of the percussion reaching a peak. Your mouth parts slightly. It feels like it means something.

But you’re soon interrupted when the music stops and all the couples come to a halt, just the painful empty air of what could’ve been filling the space between you.

Ronal appears from just across the fire-pit as she pulls her son in for a conversation he’s sure he won’t listen to. He mouths a gentle ‘sorry’ before disappearing, leaving you with your thoughts and Tsireya, who takes a seat on the log next to you.

“You two look friendly. Or should I say, more than friendly?” Her grin looks like it could reach her ears it’s so wide.

“It’s pretend.” You remind her dejectedly. “Just because you and Lo’ak are going strong, doesn’t mean you can bring your loved-up vibes over here.”

Tsireya scrunches her nose in displeasure at the English word. It didn’t mean much when Lo’ak used it in conversation, and it didn’t mean much now.  

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but my brother pretends very poorly.”

Your gaze shifts to where Ao’nung is standing, eyes trained on his mother with a far-away look in his eyes – you have to force yourself to bite back a laugh.

“He doesn’t see me that way, Reya. He never has.” You sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. “And besides, even if he did… I can’t be the mate he needs.”

“You love him, do you not?” She asks, clearly puzzled.

You look at Ao’nung again, now speaking in a small circle of Na’vi.

One member in particular makes your tender heart ache. A young Metkayina woman. She’s a skilled weaver and even better huntress. Beautiful, reliable, eager for leadership and responsibility. Not weighed down by strangeness. Not heavy with unbridled emotion. Strong and loving, in the way he needs – more palatable.

“Maybe love just isn’t enough sometimes.”

“Maybe,” Tsireya’s voice breaks through your spiral. “You are scared.”

Perhaps Tsireya has a point, or perhaps she doesn’t. Regardless, the constricting in your chest is hard to shake off. Even when she softly cups your cheek before walking away. Even when Ao’nung finds a way to escape whatever boring topic of discussion that has it’s claws digging into his sides, and his lips, yearning for yours, again. Small smile teasing at his mouth, he tugs at your hand.

“Hey, maybe we can get them to play a little more? Have another dance?”

“Ao… I think we need to stop. I-I don’t want to do this anymore.”

More than the words, it’s the pain in your eyes that punches him hard in the gut, leaving his lungs gasping for mouthfuls of air that don’t seem to dull the stinging. Your breaths do something similar, chest heaving, fighting every instinct in your body that tells you this is wrong because protecting him feels more important. It’s in that moment that Ao’nung realizes he doesn’t like comparing you to fire. It’s born to die. Warm and hungry, but it’s not for touching and it’s not forever.

His hand leaps forward to catch your shoulder, but you’re bolting before he can follow-through – fingers flinching back from the heat on your skin.

a/n: reblogs + tags are always appreciated 🪐🩷🫶🏼 i hope you enjoyed! how do we feel about part 3? 🤭

#ao'nung x reader #aonung x reader #atwow #aonung #ao'nung #avatar 2 #atwow x reader #sorry for the delay bbs <3 ive been feeling so weird and i wanted to wait until i felt more normal but #i'm not feeling any better so might as well post lmao

[violet-shadows]

Retribution (Part Three)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist

Summary: When Azriel’s best friend is kidnapped, he fears he may never get the chance to reveal his true feelings for her.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: angst, graphic depiction of canon typical violence, torture, kidnapping

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

“I’m… your… mate?” I whispered, blood draining from my face. He swallowed thickly and nodded, taking a few clumsy steps forward to sink into the chair at my bedside. He looked utterly stunned, and it was clear the admission had slipped out involuntarily. 

“That’s not… I didn’t mean to say that…”, he said softly and my breath caught in my throat. 

“You didn’t want me to know,” I surmised. A jolt of hurt radiated through my chest, and it wasn’t from the wound in my side. 

“No!” he said quickly, grabbing my hand again. “No… I just… I don’t want you to feel pressured. Especially not right now. I do want you to know. I’m sorry.” 

“How long have you known?” I asked, avoiding his eyes.

“A while,” he replied softly. I bit my lip, trying to decipher why he hadn’t told me right away. “I was going to tell you… I was just… afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Of how it might change things between us,” he clarified. “I didn’t want to lose my friend.” 

I couldn’t bring my self to look up as I asked my next question, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. “Then you’re not… disappointed?” 

“Disappointed?” he echoed, shifting closer to me. He raised the hand not holding mine and cupped my cheek, gently turning my head so he could look me in the eye. “I’m the luckiest male alive, to have you as a mate,” he whispered. The intensity of his gaze and weight of his words had the tears in my eyes beginning to fall. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to accept it, but I could never be disappointed. Not with you.”

“You say that like there’s a possibility I won’t accept it,” I replied.

“Is there?” he asked, his voice wavering. 

I shook my head and gave a watery smile, “No. There’s not.” He returned my smile, tears springing to his eyes, and leaned forward to place a featherlight kiss on my forehead. “Which is all the more reason I can’t let you run off and get yourself hurt.” 

That seemed to sober him, and his jaw twitched, but I was now more determined than ever to keep him from doing anything rash. “Sleep,” I commanded, “and eat, and make a plan. Then I’ll sic you on him.” 

He sighed heavily but seemed to accept that I wouldn’t budge on the matter. “I’ll sleep if you do too,” he replied, “your eyes are drooping. And you’re in pain, I can tell.” He reached for the glass of water and a potion, removing the lid to hand them to me. I paused before accepting them. 

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” I asked, cringing at how small I sounded. He nodded, a fond look on his face, and I downed the potion. He pulled the blanket up around me, touching it under my shoulders, then grabbed one of the unused pillows and settled back into the chair, placing it behind his head. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I thought I was supposed to sleep?” he said innocently. “Unless… do you want to be alone?” There was something heartbreakingly vulnerable about the way he asked.

“No,” I replied, patting the empty spot next to me in bed, “I want you to get proper sleep. In a proper bed.” 

He hesitated, and I patted the spot again for emphasis. “It’s your bed anyway, and… and I don’t want to be alone.” I thought about keeping the last part to myself, but I figured the days of holding back with Azriel were long over. 

He nodded, knowingly, and circled the bed, climbing in next to me. I grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly, and the potion’s effects began to take hold, pulling me into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Azriel kept his promise, remaining at my side until I woke the next morning. He was still asleep when I opened my eyes, and I was quiet for a few long minutes, content to observe him. He looked younger when he slept, his face relaxed and peaceful, and I resisted the urge to stroke his cheek. His shadows stirred before he did, rising like smoke from where they pooled at his side, sleeping along with their master. A few seconds later, his eyes shot open and he jolted into a seated position. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” I teased, watching him blink blurrily as he oriented himself. Sleepy Azriel was far more adorable than I had ever imagined. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, turning to look me over. His voice was low and husky with sleep, and I nearly shivered at the sound of it. 

“Better. Rested. What about you?” 

“I’m not the one that almost died,” he replied, throwing the covers off of him. “But I feel better, now that you’re awake.” 

“Where are you going?” I asked as he walked to the door. 

“You need to eat something,” he replied. “And I think me eating something was part of our deal as well.” I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Azriel to get right back to business. I couldn’t entirely blame him, though, if the roles were reversed, mate or no, I wouldn’t let anything stop me from punishing the perpetrators. 

While Azriel fetched us both breakfast, Nuala and Cerridwen came in to help me use the bathroom and change. I desperately wanted a bath, but Madja didn’t want my wound getting wet for at least another day, so I was stuck with warm washcloths and slightly greasy hair. I was thankful to find that someone had the good sense to comb and braid it while I was asleep, though, and most of the blood had been rinsed away. 

Azriel returned after they settled me back in bed, and I tried to hide how much the endeavor had exhausted me. He brought an assortment of pastries and fruit, far more than I could possibly hope to eat in one sitting, and poured me another glass of water. “So, I’ve slept. I’m eating. I need names,” he said seriously, taking a bite of a croissant. 

“Have you talked to Rhys and Cassian?” I asked. 

“They’re coming with me. They want blood just as much as I do,” he said honestly. “Now, tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.” I complied, starting from the moment I opened the cabin door. Azriel’s listened silently, his eyes burning with rage as I described how they subdued me. When I finally gave Tiberiuses name, he moved to stand, his siphons blazing with pent-up power. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” I chastised, smirking when he gave a childish huff. “Finish your breakfast. Or I won’t finish mine.”

“You’re infuriating, you know,” he said, relenting nonetheless. He ate the rest of his meal quickly, asking me questions in between bites and memorizing every detail I could provide. When we were both done, he took my hand between both of his and looked me in the eye.

“I’m going to make them pay, Y/N,” he swore. “Every last one of them.” 

“I know,” I said, knowing he meant each word, “just make sure you come back in one piece.” 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

At first, Azriel saw it every time a he closed his eyes: the bone chilling image of Y/N’s body, pale and lifeless in the snow. It was a scene that would be burned into his mind for all eternity, haunting him as punishment for his failure to protect her. He didn’t sleep for three days when they first made it back to Velaris, and when he finally nodded off, his dreams tormented him. The first night, he dreamt it almost exactly as it happened, but this time, when Rhys checked her pulse, he was silent for a long moment. The look on his face when he told him, confirming his worst nightmares, felt so real he woke up screaming. His brothers had burst in, stricken looks on their faces, and they’d sat with him through the rest of the night as he watched her chest rise and fall. He’d been trapped in some variation of that dream every night since. Sometimes, she was torn apart, her eyes stuck open and glazed over and her face twisted in a permanent look of horror. Other times, she was awake when he got to her, choking on her own blood as she begged him to save her, only to die in his arms moments after.

The night before she finally woke was the worst. It started much the same as the others, with her limp and dying body heavy in his arms. She was awake this time, drawing rattling breaths as blood poured from her mouth. Instead of begging him to help her, though, she just kept repeating a single word as tears streamed down her cheeks. 

“Why?” 

He looked over her body, the raw panic and crushing guilt just as visceral as the night it happened, and found the source of her pain. In his hand was Truth Teller, it’s handle red and sticky with blood. The blade was driven into her abdomen, slicing through arteries and vital organs, all the way to the spinal cord. It had struck true, as it always did, dealing a fatal blow at his hand. He pulled away, but it was far too late to take back the act. The look of betrayal in her eyes was a mind bending agony he would wish on very few, he woke up sobbing, his face slick with tears. He had vomited after that, then scrubbed his hands raw, as if they were still stained red with her blood. Instinctivly, he knew they would feel dirty until he cleansed them with the blood of the males responsible.

As he flew toward Windhaven with his brothers, he pictured what it would feel like to tear into their flesh, to draw blood until it ran in rivers through the camp. He would bathe in it before the night was done, and only then would he be clean again, worthy of the purity of the mating bond. His brothers would draw their fair share of blood as well, but both of them had been warned to leave Tiberius for Azriel, and they knew better than to stand in his way.

Usually, he let Rhysand and Cassian do the talking at the camps, preferring to interact with the Illyrians as little as possible. But when they touched down in the training ring, it was Azriel who took the lead. The camp fell eerily silent as he stalked forward, his wings flared and shadows flickering around his hands like pitch-black flames. The warriors made no snide remarks as he passed, stepping out of the way to make a path toward the keep. Even Devlon had the good sense to look nervous as the shadowsinger approached.

“You know who I’m here for,” he ground out, staring down the Camp Lord. 

“They’re already dealt with,” he replied. Azriel took a threatening step forward, his siphons burning bright beneath a shroud of hissing shadows. 

“I’ll decide when they’re dealt with,” he growled.

“They’re dead,” Devlon clarified. Cassian and Rhys approached as well, both skeptical.

“You executed them?” Cassian asked, surprised. It wasn’t in Devlon’s nature to defend outsiders, especially those belonging to the High Lord’s Inner Circle.

“They sold information about our camp to an enemy. I have no tolerance for traitors,” said Devlon. It was a matter of pride, rather than empathy, that had him angry. He eyed the seething shadowsinger wearily, “And all things considered, it was the most merciful course of action.”

“You had no right,” Azriel hissed, stalking towards him. Several of the observing warriors stepped forward, hands going to their swords, but Devlon held out a hand to stop them. 

“I left Tiberius for you to deal with, Shadowsinger,” he said, “you’re welcome for that.” 

Azriel scowled, his first clenching, but Rhys interrupted him before he could snap. ‘Don’t, Azriel,’ he said, mind-to-mind, ‘we need his warriors to take down the camp.’ He was right, of course, but it did little to quell his temper. 

“So you agree that Tiberius and his followers are an enemy of the Night Court,” Rhysand spoke aloud, “and Windhaven.” Devlon nodded, begrudgingly. 

“Then rally your troops,” Azriel spat. 

They made it to the distant camp in good time, and, in the end, their enemies were no match for the band of warriors that descended upon them. The battle, if you could call it that, was over quickly, with the treacherous Illyrians quickly cut down or captured. Tiberius himself had retreated to the keep with his officers, cowering inside while his troops were slaughtered. Azriel considered cleaving his head from his shoulder right then and there, but such an end seemed too kind for the vile creature before him. 

Tiberius sneered as Azriel approached, his sword raised as if he might still stand a chance. “This is about that little bitch—” he began to snarl, but his words were cut off by a blow to the ribs as Azriel surged forward in a blink, Truth Teller in hand. The blade was lodged in his side, expertly placed to collapse his lung, just like he had done to Y/N. 

“You’re going to regret that,” Azriel said in a low growl.

“Killing me won’t bring her back,” he taunted, his smug grin faltering as the knife was twisted, pressing deeper into his chest cavity. The news of your survival had not yet spread. 

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish I had just killed you,” Azriel told him, a cruel smile on his lips. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Rhysand and Cassian returned the following day, looking tired but completely unharmed. They assured me that Azriel was fine, but not to expect him for another day or two. I knew better than to ask what he was doing. In the meantime, I was slowly regaining my strength, taking walks around the House and even sitting at the table for dinner after the second night. Although I was physically feeling better, I couldn’t help but worry about Azriel. Even if he never said as much, I knew the darkness of his work ate at him. 

Three days after Cassian and Rhysand returned, I finally saw him again. I woke in the early morning hours and sprang from bed, something within me signaling his return. I met him in the foyer of the House and launched forward, pulling him into a tight hug. He returned the embrace just as fiercely, burying his head in the crook of my neck and listing me off the ground. 

“You should be in bed,” he mumbled, not pulling away. 

“I’m feeling better,” I said, face pressed against his chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he replied, stepping back to look me over. He guided me towards the living room, insisting I sit down even though he looked far more tired than I did. “I killed him,” he said quietly.

“I know,” I replied. “Thank you.” 

“It wasn’t quick,” he added, his eyes distant.

“I know,” I repeated. I had been around long enough to know what the darker parts of Azriel’s work entailed, and I knew how he dealt with the worst of his enemies. 

“I’m not… good, Y/N,” he whispered. “I’ve done terrible things.” There was a brokenness about the way he said it that tugged at my heart. 

“Azriel,” I said, “Do you think I’m stupid? Or naive?” 

He startled, turning to look at me finally, “What?” 

“I know what you do,” I told him. “I know what you did. I see you, all of you, and it doesn’t scare me.” He didn’t react, his expression stunned. “And I don’t begrudge you for it, because if the roles had been reversed, I would have done the same.” 

He pulled me into a hug then, his hand came up to stroke my hair. We sat in comfortable silence for quite some time, before he spoke again, “You really don’t mind? Being my mate?”

“Don’t mind?” I laughed, pulling away slightly to look at him, but keeping my arms around his middle. “Azriel, you fool, why would I mind being mated to someone I’ve been in love with for so long?” 

He gasped, his eyes going wide, “you’re in love with me?” 

“I’m in love with you,” I confirmed. He bent down then, capturing my lips with his in a passion-filled kiss. I leaned into him, pressing my chest to his, our hearts hammering as one. When we finally pulled away for air, he was grinning, his eyes shining with tears. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve always loved you.” My heart sang at the words and he stroked my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. I kissed him again, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he pulled me into his lap. 

When we broke apart a second time, I kept my forehead pressed to his. “In that case,” I said with a smile, “we have a mating ceremony to plan.” 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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[shenrickyz]

well actually!

post-daesang win, seojun and jisung talk in the bathroom

"all good now?"

jisung looks at the older through the mirror, who seems to sense his eyes, as he immediately looks up and catches jisung's gaze. the maknae of nct dream shrugs, wiping some of the dried tears from his cheeks. "i'm okay".

"you sure?" ah seojun, always so concerned no matter what the situation might be. of course, jisung's tears were happy ones, but seojun just always needs extra reassurance, it's cute, he'll give him that.

"do you constantly have to ask?"

"i'm looking after you, that's my job".

jisung isn't sure when seojun decided that was his title, if his mom heard that, she'd be pretty pissed (that's a lie, jisung's mom adores seojun, just as much as the park himself does). he constantly insists that seojun doesn't have to look after him like some sort of caretaker, they are only a month apart after all.

but seojun doesn't care, always dismissing his words and carrying on with his usual antics. "really? it's your job? jaemin hyung will be pretty pissed".

"as your boyfriend, it's my job to take care of you" seojun puts an emphasis on the obvious word, rummaging through his pockets and pulling out a tissue for jisung. "is that what you wanted to hear?"

jisung pretends to think about it, a small smile playing on his lips. "not exactly, but i like the way it sounds".

"you're such a baby".

"you're only a month older".

"and? you still act like a baby".

jisung wants to protest when seojun lets go of his hand, leaning against the nearby stall, but he keeps quiet, instead leaning against the sink. now the two are exactly parallel to each other, it's cute, jisung days in his head again.

everything about seojun is cute.

jisung smiles at the thought, and the two slip into a comfortable silence, a lot on their minds.

"did you have to follow me?"

seojun snickers, as if the words baffle him. "you were literally sobbing out there, jisung, i was being of help".

"but you were so quick to not let jeno take me to the bathroom".

"is it bad that i want alone time with you?" the older raises an eyebrow, and jisung just cocks his head to the side, pretending to think about it again.

"yes, you need to learn how to be professional, we are coworkers".

the clear sarcasm in jisung's voice makes seojun raise his eyebrow again, and he hums. "okay, i'll make sure to remind you of that next time you want a last minute kiss backstage".

jisung gasps, placing a hand on his chest. "that's not fair".

"yes it is".

"it's not!" seojun can't resist the urge to laugh, he lightly slaps jisung's arm and walks up to the sink to wash his hands. "you can't resist me anyway".

"uh huh" seojun agrees, flicking water at jisung with his hands, eliciting a temp from the younger. "i just don't like seeing you cry, even if it's happy tears".

"ri was crying too" jisung says, suddenly thinking about the older. "why didn't you accompany him to the bathroom?"

"you know why.." seojun mutters, trying off his hands. jisung does know, but he's not sure if it's because the answer is obvious, or because seojun is predictable.

"you just wanted to get him and jeno hyung alone".

seojun makes a sound corresponding to a correct buzzer on a game show, and jisung just chuckles, pushing him.

"i don't think the two of them are ever going to get there".

seojun hums. "hikari just needs time and jeno just needs to tell him when the times right".

"they seem to be letting that time extend, though".

"that's what we did".

at the words, jisung pauses, he's right, obviously, but he just said it so abruptly. seojun doesn't say anything more, just reaches over for jisung's hand and laces their fingers together. "we just have to be patient".

"tell that to mini hyung, every time he looks at them it's like he wants to scream".

seojun snickers at the mention of his fellow nct sei member, rolling his eyes playfully. "you're acting like we weren't the exact same, chenle was literally so tired of us".

"he still is tired of us".

"well that's different now" seojun muses, a pretty smile tugging on his lips as he also tugs on jisung's hand. "okay we need to go, mark is gonna start getting worried".

"mark already knows we're here, why would he be worried?"

"he's always worried, and i don't want to get scolded".

jisung doesn't respond more, instead letting the older tug his hand once again and drag him out of the bathroom. yeah he'll have to get through a bunch of teasing from the dreamies, but he doesn't care.

seoji content for the seoji connoisseur @junjiie

#𓏲࣪ 神 .˚ NCT SEi #fake kpop oc #fake kpop group #fake kpop idol #fake kpop addition #fake kpop bg #nct oc #nct addition #nct added member #fictional kpop group #fictional idol group #fictional idol oc #fictional idol community #male oc #idolverse #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv

[savelockwoodandco]

Hi! Do you think the show has a good chance of being saved? It's been a month and 11 days since the cancellation and everytime I rhink about that it drives me crazy

Hi Anon, thanks for the question!

We've said a few times our feelings about the timeline, so I won't go super into-depth here, but we do want to reiterate that a month and change is not at all a long time for a show not to be picked up. Short of B99, shows just aren't picked up in their first month of cancellation, nor announced to be picked up.

This is going to be a months-long -- emphasis on the plural -- fight, but we are still fully confident that we're going to come out the victors. We haven't even hit a month and a half yet; these are early days. Let me state clearly again: we think the show has a great chance of being picked up, "even" at this stage.

However, we get that it can be discouraging, especially since in current culture there's a sense of "if it doesn't happen immediately it won't happen at all" that's rather pervasive, only getting more intense the younger the person in question is. That can make it hard to work towards a goal that doesn't have an end date and that'll take months.

So here's a fun little tidbit to keep our engines revved and moving: CF has been very, very quiet this last week.

Why is that a fun fact? Well, because CF has been relatively aware after the first week or so of the campaign with us fans.

On their Twitter -- which we know some people (Tumblr Mod included!) aren't really involved with -- CF tweeted the phrase "Nice Things" (their capitalization, not ours) with a piece of fanart. Afterwards, a tweet went around praising CF for their use of coded messages in Tweets -- which CF liked. Previous to this, CF had tweeted that they wouldn't try to trick us or falsely build us up, so this like had a number of heads scratching.

And since then, CF has been quiet.

There are so many reasons for a business to be loud on twitter -- it helps build their brand, they enjoy engaging with fans, they're having time between projects, etc etc. For a company as small as CF, it's likely that, unlike Netflix and other Giants, Someone from CF actually is in charge of the twitter, rather than a faceless intern. Many fans have theories on who it might be, but it's not the purpose of this post to speculate on that.

The important thing to note is that while there are many reasons to be loud, there's really only one reason to be quiet: they're busy.

Which is something very much in our favor.

We know that media business isn't something that everyone's interested in, so here's the facts: signing contracts for a show takes a long, long time. Signing contracts for renewing a show takes a long time as well. Meetings are scheduled, meetings to discuss those meetings are scheduled, both sides have to have separate meetings within their teams, then between teams, then company-wide, and then schedule follow-ups with the other party. It's a process and even if both parties (CF and whoever picks it up) agree immediately on terms, which never happens, contracts still have to be drafted, considered, debated, re-drafted...

It's a process, and we don't get to see any of it. Lucky for us, honestly, because it'd probably drive us crazy. The only thing we get to see is the end result -- the show being saved -- popping up like a bolt from the blue.

But we have to remember it's not from the blue, it's from weeks and weeks of hard work and negotiation. If CF is smart -- and CF is very, very smart -- talks of saving the show will include the ability to tell the whole story, whether that's negotiating for 2 more seasons, or for 1 season of ~16 or so episodes.

We have no say in contracts or anything like that for S2. What our presence does have a say in is helping out CF with negotiations. The louder, more passionate, more demonstrative, and yes, more consistent we are, the more negotiating power CF has. They have great numbers to present for the show itself, growing every day, but because of LockNation, they can demonstrate the ongoing market appeal of Lockwood & Co. That translates to the opportunity to earn more money and clout for whoever it is picks us up, and that puts CF is a very good position.

We're of the firm belief that the best mindset going forward is not "it's already been X amount of time", it's instead "it's only been X amount of time".

It's only been a month and 11 days.

The things we do help. The things we do matter. They will continue to matter as long as we do them.

So let's help our show out as best we can, and be cheerful about it. Take breaks -- please, please take breaks, or you'll go crazy -- and take care of yourself.

Good things are coming. Or, to use CF's words, Nice Things are coming.

#save lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #l&co #locknation fic writers day #answer post #encouragement post

[nancywheelersgirlfriend]

I need to see Nancy grabs a bat and so ready to hit a person when she sees someone tells Robin she talks too much and it's annoying

i loved this prompt!! apologizes for getting it out so late. i hope you enjoy!

summer breeze (2,351 words) tw // use of a homophobic slur

Sure, Nance could understand that maybe Robin’s frantic motormouth qualities could be a little off-putting. But only when you first met her - if you couldn’t fall in love with her within five minutes of excited, obsessive conversation, Nancy couldn’t believe you had a heart. How could you not?

But some people in Hawkins did, indeed, have no heart. And that, judging by everything that’d gone down the past few years, wasn’t a total surprise. Nancy knew there were assholes in this town. She’d had her fair share of sexist interactions - Hawkins Post comes to mind, as well as beat-down intimidation from powerhungry teenage boys - rest in pieces, Jason. And logically she knew Robin must’ve as well.

Robin wasn’t younger than her and she certainly wasn’t naive. She’d been in the Hawkins workforce as long as Nancy, longer even - she’d gotten a job her sophomore year whereas Nancy’s first had been the summer of her junior year. But still Nancy desperately wanted to protect her from any and all outside threat. She wanted to wrap her up in her arms and keep her tucked apprehensively against her chest, like one might a small bird or something equally as precious.

Unfortunately that wasn’t possible because Robin a. wouldn’t let her and b. Robin was about half a foot taller. So no chest-holding for Nancy. That didn’t stop her from trying, though. 

“I think what they say about short people is true,” Steve said through the side of his mouth, absentmindedly stirring his half-eaten pudding cup. Nancy, who had set up shop studying for the Emerson placement tests off to the corner of the Family Video counter, glanced up in confusion. They’d hardly spoken the whole hour and a half she’d been there - not from any tension but because she and Steve were at the point where friendship didn’t have to be fueled by words. He’d pass her a pudding cup. She’d rewind a few tapes for him when customers got too clogged and his busy work stacked up.

“What?” Nancy asked, halfway through a scoop of pudding and still residually focused on the question about Dickens’ social meaning in Tale of Two Cities.

“That you guys don’t have enough room to store your anger,” Steve explained, waving around his spoon. A wicked grin came onto his face, no doubt an expression he picked up from Eddie. “So it all comes out the top. Like you’re a tea kettle or something.”

“I’m not an angry person!” Nancy exclaimed, feeling slightly offended.

“Did I say your name?” Steve quirked an eyebrow in reply, but something in his toothy smile told her he’d definitely been talking about her. After a moment he slid down the counter, arms scratching against the purple plastic, and leaned over her textbooks. “But, just you so know, you’re a fairly angry person.”

“I absolutely am not,” Nancy retorted. Embarassingly this conversation was making her a little angry. But it was a justified anger. Always a justified anger. “Robin, am I an angry person?”

“I think it’s hot you get so worked up over things you’re passionate about,” Robin’s head appeared from where she’d been busy setting up a new window display about the recent Indiana Jones movie. She walked over, hands nearly overflowing with tapes, to come stand beside Nancy and smile at her. Somehow that was all it took - just a pink, flushed grin from Robin and Nancy fell apart.

“Yeah?” Nancy asked, realizing all too late her voice came out breathy and embarassing. On the other side of the counter, Steve fake-gagged. Neither girl paid him any attention.

“It’s cute how red the tips of your ears get,” Robin said, flicking Nancy’s (totally red) ear for emphasis. Her fingertips drifted from the skin to Nancy’s hair, tucking a stray curl behind and running a loving pointer finger against her neck. Nancy took a sharp breath in. 

The familiar jingle of the door’s bell harshly interupted then. The two girls pulled away relunctantly. It was difficult to get a reminder that no, Family Video wasn’t some gay heavenly paradise. It was just a shitty little store in a shitty little backwater town. Robin ducked down to eat Nancy’s hovering handful of pudding quickly, shooting her a wink before she rushed away to meet with the customer.

“Shit,” Steve was back, voice low and teeth clenched. Nancy furrowed her brow.

“What?”

“That’s Dash Winkleman,” Steve spoke in a low, warning tone. Nancy followed his eyes to where he was staring, unwaveringly and angrily, at the kid who’d just walked in. Robin was speaking to him, customer service smile plastered on but hands wringing themselves out by her waist. “He and Robin used to be friends. He’s a real asshole.”

“I’m starting to see a pattern,” Nancy murmured, glancing back at Steve with a tentative smile. He didn’t even smile back - a clear sign that this guy was bad news. If he was pissing Steve off this much, who knew how upset it made Robin.

“I’m a reformed asshole,” Steve corrected. “Dash is a permanent dickwad. Always has been, always will be.” Even from a ways away, Nancy could see Robin’s face getting red. Her stomach churned at just the mere concept of Robin getting upset. That somebody was making her this upset - this Dash. Dash, who Nancy had never seen nor particularly cared about. She squared her shoulders and made a move to walk over, but Robin and Dash were making their way to the counter already.

“-jesus, I get it,” Dash’s voice cut in through the thick sound of the droning fan from the backroom. “You’re just as annoying as you’ve always been, Robin.”

“Excuse me?” Nancy hissed. As she went to move, Steve’s hand reached out to grab her arm.

“Robin wants to fight her own battles,” Steve told her. At Nancy’s furious expression, he relented his grip slightly. “Just saying from experience. She got super pissed the last time I tried to cut in on her conversation when this asshole came in bothering her at Scoops. And Dash doesn’t take anybody serious - at least, nobody on the social pyramid.”

“Lucky I’m not a jock then, yeah?” Nancy retorted shortly, shaking her arm free. 

“-can’t talk to me like this anymore,” Robin finished, folding her arms across her chest. Dash didn’t look convinced.

“Listen, Robin, I’m just trying to help you,” Dash said, lifting his hands up placatingly. It did nothing of the sort. “If you keep the motormouth, nobody’s gonna want to talk to you. Or your, uh. Other quality.” Ugh. Nancy was getting increasingly sick of this particular type of dickhead. Especially if he was gonna keep accusing his girlfriend of being ‘annoying’.

“Hey, asshole,” Nancy snapped, coming to stand beside Robin. Dash’s eyes flicked to her with an ounce of surprise. “I’m not sure about which wire got clipped in that little brain of yours, but it’s clear something’s missing a connection up there - because if everything were normal, you’d be out the door by now.”

“Nancy Wheeler?” Dash asked, laughter in his tone. And okay, maybe Steve was right, because she could feel her ears starting to steam. “Since when were you and Nancy friends, Robin?”

“Since I decided to cut out all the assholes,” Robin snapped. “One in particular, actually.”

“Last time I checked, Nancy Wheeler hardly spoke,” Dash said, pointedly ignoring what Robin had said and instead turning on Nancy. He was sure acting like a real tough guy for only being about two inches taller than her. “I guess your motormouth rubbed off on her.” He raised an eyebrow. So the double meaning in that sentence was purposeful.

“Watch your mouth,” Nancy practically growled. Robin’s hand flailed out in the space between them, attempting to communicate something like calm the fuck down. Dash, with his beady little eyes, caught the movement and squinted.

“Watch your girlfriend’s,” He retorted. A shocked silence followed. “What, did I hit the nail on the head with that? Two dykes who don’t know when to shut their mouths-”

“Alright, get the hell out of my store,” Steve barked, swinging over the counter with a grace that usually escaped him. He stormed over, all five feet eleven inches looming menacingly. “Before I make you.” Nancy held out a hand to stop him. Dash raised his hands again, as if to say ‘I’m innocent’, but the smarmy grin on his face clearly said he thought he’d won. And Nancy couldn’t let that happen. He walked backwards through the double doors, starting to cackle as he reached the sidewalk. Nancy spun on her heels to face a seething Steve and a very shaken Robin.

“Your car’s unlocked, yeah?” Nancy asked. Steve nodded hestitantly and opened his mouth to verbally reply but she was already out the door.

She was out the door and crossing the parking lot in large, double-footed strides. Dash was a ways in front of her but he clearly heard her coming and turned, no doubt expecting another verbal reply. Instead Nancy shouldered past him, continuing her one-sight mission to Steve’s BMW - conveniently parked beside what she assumed to be Dash’s car. She popped the hood with one purposeful tug and found the holy grail.

“Jesus, you two are seriously the most annoying chicks in Hawkins,” Dash laughed as he came to stand behind her, much too close for Nancy’s liking. “If you ever get tired of getting your ear fuckin’ chewed off-”

She whirled around in a mad fury, nail bat gripped tightly in her hands and held out as a barrier between her and Dash. He jumped about five feet in the air, all smirk and smarm gone from his face. Now it was just terror. Delicious, delicious fear. That’s what he got for scaring Robin. 

She swung it experimentally and Dash backed up so fast his legs smacked against the side of his car. It rocked at the sudden bump. He cowered. Nancy couldn’t help but laugh at how fast he’d dropped the cocky persona.

“Who’s talking now?” She asked. Nancy swung the bat again and Dash let out an honest-to-God whimper. “Bother Robin again and you won’t come away with anything left on your stupid rat face, much less a mouth.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Dash whispered, hands covering his head. “Oh my god, oh my god-”

“Nance!” Robin called out across the parking lot. She and Steve were bounding over. She had this amazed, almost reverent look on her face.

“Apologize to her,” Nancy commanded, gesturing to Robin with the bat. Dash looked up through wet eyelashes.

“I’m sorry,” Dash whimpered to Robin, who’d come to stand beside Nancy.

“Whatever, Dash,” Robin replied with an eyeroll.

“I don’t wanna hear anything from you,” Nancy ordered, swiping the bat just inches away from where his arms had come up to cover his head. “Got that, mouthbreather?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dash whimpered. “Please, just let me go-”

“Get the hell out of here!” Nancy shouted, lifting up the bat enough to let him scurry and open the driver’s seat door. Dash was practically tripping over himself trying to move fast enough, hands shaking and fumbling with the keys. The car sputtered to life. “You know, I’ve never seen anything so fucking pathetic in my life.”

Dash put his car in reverse so fast it physically lurched, churning out of the parking lot with a screeching from the tires and an eruption of smoke. Nancy watched the back of his car go and then Robin’s arms were around her neck, pulling her close. Their heads knocked together when Robin yanked her in, Robin’s breathy laugh pressed up against her ear.

“Nancy, you’re, like, the coolest person ever,” Robin gushed. “Seriously, that was legendary.” Nancy shrugged, suddenly bashful with all the attention from her girlfriend.

“He was making fun of you,” Nancy said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “And I don’t want you to let him make you think you’re annoying. ‘Cause you’re not. You’re the opposite of annoying.” The bat clattered to the pavement as Nancy wrapped her arms around Robin’s waist, swaying her absently.

“Jesus, Nancy, you made me nearly shit my pants and you weren’t even looking at me,” Steve laughed. Nancy only just remembered he was there. He scooped to pick up the bat, handling it fondly as he placed back in his trunk and slammed it shut. “Glad the bat could be of service.”

“I gotta get my own,” Nancy announced. “Call it my Robin Defense Stick.”

“Maybe we could come up with a better name,” Robin suggested with a wince, though the dopey smile on her face suggested otherwise. “You really don’t think I’m annoying?”

Nancy’s grip on her waist tightened nearly a hundred percent. She pulled her closer and tucked her nose to Robin’s light brown hair with a fervent shake of her head.

“No fucking way,” Nancy promised. “Dash is an asshole and honestly, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to bash his nuts in.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll call you next time and you’ll get the first strike,” Robin promised, reaching up a hand to tangle in Nancy’s curls and hold her head to her shoulder.

“There better not be a next time,” Nancy grumbled.

“Not to interupt, but we do have another hour until our thirty,” Steve spoke up again, considerably awkward. Robin looked up and rolled her eyes jokingly at him, untangling herself from Nancy in a very disappointing manner.

“Alright, alright,” Robin waved him off. She and Steve started off back towards the doors and Nancy followed, catching up to make the group of two a group of three.

“If I’m gonna defend you from any potential name-calling assholes, I gotta keep a close eye on you,” Nancy said as explanation. Robin shook her head fondly and held the door open for her.

“Whatever you say, Nance.”

“Seriously! I’ll ask Jon how to make my own nail bat, don’t worry.”

“Ooh! Here’s a name idea: Dick Beater.”

“That’s a terrible name, Steve.”

“...Nancy’s Dick Beater?”

“Even worse. Somehow even worse.”

#ronance #ronance fic requests #robin buckley #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #fruity four #steve and robin #platonic stobin #nancy x robin #robin x nancy #robin and nancy #nancy and robin

[tieflingteatime]

just for fun (part 2)

5.3K

Eddie and F!Reader lose their virginity to each other. But it doesn't mean anything, they're only fuck buddies.... right?

C/W: swearing, P in V sex, semi-public sex. Reader is 18. Very much NSFW. Minors DNI

Part 1 // AO3

You wave over to the rest of them as you make your way to your accustomed seat at Eddie’s side, a tray filled with something that might’ve passed for lunch in a Victorian workhouse. Or that’s what Eddie thinks, at least.

“Dunno how you can eat that muck,” he grumbles as you sit down, shovelling two biscuits in his mouth.

“Hey, it’s not that bad!” you chuckle, looking over to the others for backup. “Right, guys? I can’t be the only one that enjoys it… right?”

“Yeah!” Dustin pipes up as the rest stare on in silence. One of Eddie’s little “sheep,” those younger boys that he recruited into his Dungeons & Dragons club with the promise of adventures, fame and glory — albeit strictly in the tabletop realm. And a necessary fall in social status, of course, but since all of them were more or less outcasts to begin with, not much changed there. “They actually had really nice tacos on Tuesday, and the lunch lady told me next week they’re gonna try doing enchiladas.” His face lights up at the thought.

“Yeah, emphasis on try,” Eddie groans. “Find me one of them that can actually cook and I’ll eat my hat.”

“Eddie, you don’t have a hat.” You can’t help the playful jab at his expense, nor what follows: “Might as well eat your bandana.”

He rolls his eyes but grins at you anyway. “Sure. I’ll eat my fucking bandana, smartass.”

“You love it, really.”

“What? The smartness or the ass?”

“That’s smart ass to you.”

The younger boys follow your little exchange with unrestrained glee, although their expressions turn muted when their Dungeon Master fixes them with a terrifying stare. “And what are you giggling at, huh? Something funny?”

“Nope,” they murmur, eyes downcast. 

“That’s more like it.”

You can’t help but laugh, disguising it as a cough into your sleeve. As fierce as he can be — as mean as he likes to pretend to be — he’s a real softie deep down. It’s in the way he gives, and gives, and gives without expectation of anything in return. It’s in the hugs that burst at the seams with all the warmth he can fit in them. And it’s absolutely in the way that, for a bunch of young nobodies figuring out how to become somebodies in the dog-eat-dog world that is Hawkins High, and even beyond, he has become their shepherd.

You could see him like that, kind of. Lazing on a hill, guitar across his knees, shirt blissfully abandoned, just soaking up the sun as he hums a song for only the wind to know, letting it tousle through his long mane.

“And what are you smiling at, Y/N?” 

Shit. He just had to be born with hawk eyes.

“Nothing,” you squeak out. “Just thinking.”

“Bullshit it’s nothing. You’re an awful liar. Remind me to never play poker with you,” Eddie chuckles. “Too many tells. Way too many tells.”

“Yeah? Well it’s nothing.” You grin at him. “Can’t a lady have some secrets, anyway?” 

“Oh, a lady, are you, Y/N?” He drops into a fake-British accent that narrowly survives his bout of laughter. He reaches longingly for another biscuit before deciding against it; the sugary, crumbling goodness does not, apparently, outweigh the risk of choking to death in a giggling fit. “My sweet — my sweet, fair lady with her hair full of secrets?”

“Fuck off, Munson.”

His chair moves with an audible crrrrurrrk across the floor as he half staggers, half shuffles backwards. “Help!” he yells out, clutching his chest, face drawn in utter agony. “My fair lady is using unladylike language! Her mind has been corrupted into the gutter! She is tainted, forever doomed to spinsterhood with thirty cats! A wicked, wicked mind in a wicked body! Oh, how will I ever recover from the shock?”

His theatrics are always hilarious for you all. There’s just something so endearing about someone so utterly unafraid to make a fool out of themselves just to make their loved ones laugh.

Usually, that is. But today, it hits a little close to home for your liking. It reminds you too much of the afternoon you shared a couple of days ago, and all the thoughts you’ve had since then. 

While the others laugh and Jeff helps push his chair back in position, you remain resolutely silent and stone-faced in the face of Eddie’s clowning, even when he adds a pained, drawn-out, “Tainted” for your benefit.

You pretend to drop something under the table, using it as an excuse to grab the notebook and pen hanging precariously out of your pocket and tear off a scrap, scrawling a note for the shocked shepherd to read at his leisure. 

“Gotta go,” you say quickly in lieu of a goodbye. “Don’t want to be late for class.”

“But you’ve got another ten minutes left, Y/N.” Eddie looks puzzled as you stand up, scooping up your tray. The muck remains half-eaten. “Where are you going? Tired of me already, huh?” He flashes you a winsome grin and a wink to accompany it.

It takes all your willpower to school your face into a neutral expression. You’re not sure if you currently want to fight Eddie, or -

“I need to study. I have a test coming up in the next few days. Really need to be on my A-game.” 

You drop your note into his lap as you walk away from the table, hoping he’ll notice it before he gets up later —  and that the others won’t notice. You had tried to be subtle, but…

“Surely you can afford to live a little, Y/N.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. “Fail a test for once. You know you’re only going to get the highest in the class even if you add in a few mistakes. You know — be a wild, crazy teenager.” He punctuates his final words with a finger tapping the table.

You can’t help but smile. In all the years you’ve known each other, Eddie would never be able to even remotely describe you as “wild and crazy”, even if his life depended on it.

“Maybe. Maybe I’ll flub it, just for you.”

“That’s my girl. Now, go on. Shoo. Study! Get the A you deserve!”

You feel a little guilty as you walk away. You’re not going to study, even if you’re currently headed for the study hall with a bag full of notes. 

You’re going to fill your head with all the fantasies this burgeoning situation with Eddie has opened up for you. The taste of something only hinted at while you were together in his bedroom. You’re going to let all the frustration flood through your veins like a drug as you remember the fact that not once since that fateful afternoon has your best friend even hinted at the thought of fucking you.

You don’t just want to laugh at his jokes, not after you know how his mouth tastes. How his tongue has an almost electric intensity to it. How his chest felt under your wandering fingertips and the way he was so wonderfully, achingly hard for you the entire time… and how wet just the thought of it all makes you.

You set out your notes with a sigh, absently rubbing your thighs together as you struggle to focus. Only a few more hours until you were free to meet him at the spot and talk it out. 

Hell, maybe fuck it out. You didn’t think you’d lose your virginity against a tree or slumped over the bench he deals at, the one nobody goes to unless they don’t want to be seen, but it doesn’t hurt, right? Well, it might hurt at the beginning, sort of, but only a little bit, because — 

God damn it.

The words have all blurred together in front of you, meaningless shapes and squiggles. You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry.

Eddie arrives at the bench, just like you asked… thirty minutes after school finished. What he was taking his sweet time over, you can only guess, but it doesn’t matter. He’s here now, and if he’s here then that means he’s read the note in its entirety.

He knows you want to talk.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grins, giving you a little wave as he drops his bag and sits on top of the bench. “I know I don’t charge you for this shit, but you’ll be robbing me out of house and home if you want it this soon after the last one.”

It’s an olive branch, you realise belatedly. A way to smooth over the tension you’ve been quietly simmering in all day. 

He always did have hawk eyes. Never missing a beat.

“Yeah,” you say. Even to your ears, that’s something slightly off in your tone. “It helps me relax and stuff. Especially when there’s a bunch of tests this early in the year.”

“They’re just trying to make it clear from the start that the others have nothing on you.” He nudges you, touching your arm briefly. “Valedictorian material. I can see it, even if you can’t.”

You’re not in the mood for his jokes, so you just sigh. And then you regret it, instantly, because his face falls and he’s looking at you like he just kicked a puppy. Your puppy. A mile-long line of your kicked puppies.

“Did I say something wrong? Tell me what’s going on, Y/N, you’ve been down all day.” He clutches at your shoulders, lips opening and closing as he tries to find appropriately beseeching words.

“I just don’t know if this means anything to you, or if it was just a one and done thing,” you blurt out. “I wanna continue but you — you haven’t said anything about it since then.” You look away, unable to face him when you’re on the verge of crying. You don’t even know why you want to cry; you’re friends, you’re best friends, and this is all stupid. Just another teenage girl mood swing, you think bitterly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I thought maybe you lost interest in the whole thing.”

“Y/N.” 

“No, Eddie, it’s dumb, I’m sorry, I —” 

“Y/N.” He moves your head gently until you’re forced to meet his eyes.

My God. Those eyes. What Helen accomplished with her face, Eddie could do with his eyes alone.

“I didn’t lose interest. Far from it. It’s been nearly all I’ve thought about.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly. “I mean, fuck. You were grinding on my cock, touching me all over, and you made the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard. I nearly came when you took your fucking shirt off.”

You feel so utterly, relentlessly, stupid. For a different reason, this time. A bonus round of stupidity; a conga line of cognitive impotence. 

“So no, I haven’t lost interest. I kinda thought maybe you had.”

“Me?” Your eyes grow wide. “What gave you that impression?”

“Well…” He fidgets. “You didn’t mention anything either.”

“Only because I was waiting for you to mention it first!”

“And I was waiting for you to say something! I didn’t want to act like a pervert and scare you off. Didn’t want to be a freak.”

Your heart shatters around your ankles, and there’s only one thing you can do.

“Oh, Eddie.” You squeeze him into a tight hug, not caring about whether you might be currently crushing his ribcage. “You are not a freak, and you never could be. I know you better than any of those assholes ever would. Believe me when I say it, but you’re a fucking Care Bear.”

He laughs in a way that sounds suspiciously close to crying. “A fucking Care Bear, huh?”

“Yup,” you say, resolutely. “The grumpy one.”

“And there I thought you were gonna get all mushy on me, Y/N.” His eyes twinkle at you.

“Not in your life, Munson.”

You untangle yourselves as the need to breathe properly becomes evident, but your arms still remain wrapped around each other’s waists.

“You’re… sure you want this?” you ask him, searching his face for any hint of doubt.

“Yes,” Eddie says back, utterly doubtless. “You?”

“Yes.” 

He pauses for a moment. "You know, I didn't think it would be so hot."

"You trying to say I'm not hot, Eds?"

He neither confirms or denies, settling to just grin at you when you sigh at his lack of response. "You're not bad, I guess. 've seen worse."

"Not bad? Seen worse?" You screech, faking offence at his words. "Wait, what do you mean you've seen worse? Like in a magazine or real life or -"

"Real life." He shifts on the bench, hands curling and uncurling around each other. "Sometimes when girls want to buy stuff, they, uhh…" Eddie coughs. "They show me their tits because they want a discount." 

"And does it work?" You suspect it probably does.

"Aww, you can hardly complain, sweetheart," he grins, shaking his head. "You get it for free. They get it for 50% off." 

"What, because they're only half naked?" You quirk an eyebrow at him, struggling not to smile as he blushes. 

"No! Well… maybe? Oh, shut up, you absolute ass," he adds as you can't hold your laughter back any longer. 

"Sorry, Eds, it's just -" You pause, attempting to stop, but the laughter refuses to be held back by human means. "It's just so predictable."

He smirks a little at that before joining you in laughing. "Yeah, well, what can I say? They get the weed they want, I get to stare at their boobs. Everybody wins."

"So you're saying if I had just, I dunno, flashed you a year ago or something, then I'd get the tit discount? The titscount?" 

"Fucking asshole." Eddie's chuckling as he shakes his head at your unflagging mirth. "Okay, you know what? I'm gonna take back the best friend privileges. I'm gonna reverse it, even. Everytime you show me your tits, you pay full price." 

"Now who's the asshole?" 

"Uhh, you? For mooching off my stash?" He gives you a playful nudge. "Only kidding, sweetheart." 

"I woulda just showed them to you even without a discount, anyway."

"Aww, you flatter me, Y/N." 

You both settle into an easy silence for a little while. For all the unsavoury dealings that go on at the bench, it's a really peaceful place. Tucked away from anything and anyone. It would be easy to forget you're still technically on school property.

"What did you mean when you said you didn't think it would be hot, anyway?" You can't help but ask. 

He rolls his eyes at you, as though you're missing something obvious. When you just stare back at him, Eddie sighs. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it was still hot with them, kinda, but it was all, like… a business transaction. "Show me this, I'll give you that" type deal. They never never would've kissed me, for one thing. I never had anyone actually want to do that kind of thing. Not sober, anyway." 

A dim memory flickers in your mind for a moment. There was a college party he'd been invited to, because he tended to get entrance to those fairly frequently. Strictly as a dealer, though; they weren't pretending to be friends with him.

You'd been there as his plus one. Another best friend privilege. You'd been nursing a bottle of something stronger than your usual poison for the whole evening, slightly nervous of passing out in a house full of strangers. Eddie, of course, had been in business mode, not partaking in the various drinks and drugs on offer… but he had found the time to make out with a girl in the stairway while you were searching for the bathroom. 

You didn't begrudge him that; you'd only been slightly annoyed after more fruitless wandering to find out that the door he'd been blocking was the bathroom after all. By the time you'd come back out, the girl had already left and Eddie drove you home not long after, business concluded for the night.

"Well, I'm not like that, Eds. I don't need all that to just be with you. Even with my clothes on." 

"Yeah." His face crinkles into a warm smile. "I know. Plus your parents would kill me if I got you properly drunk." 

"What they don't know can't hurt them." You are a picture of perfect innocence before his eyes, the illusion only slightly ruined by the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Well, ain't that a good life motto." He fiddles with the strap of his bag, humming the opening notes of a song you vaguely recognise. It came out fairly recently, but it’s not something you’ve properly listened to yourself. Knowing Eddie, you’ll probably be given more than a few chances as the week goes on. “Don’t really fancy my odds against your dad and a pitchfork.”

“You mean a flaming pitchfork, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

You shuffle, hands writhing in your lap as you move closer. Your leg bumps against his, bouncing slightly as you try to think of something - anything - other than the unbearable absence of his tongue in your mouth.

“Something on your mind?” Eddie chuckles at you. 

You want to indulge his teasing… but you can’t. You’ve been too wound up, too frustrated over the past few days, and now the proximity of your bodies with nothing else happening is horrific. The worst kind of torture. A crime they only whisper in the Hague.

“Shut up and kiss me, Eds.” 

Not allowing him the chance to quip back, you seize his head in your hands and pull his lips to yours, drinking in his moan as your fingers tangle at the back of his neck. Eddie’s mouth is as soft and warm as you remembered, tasting faintly of nicotine; he must have smoked before coming to you. 

His hands snake over your torso, coming to rest at your hips as he pulls you into his lap. When you start to rock your hips against his growing arousal, he almost howls, nails digging into you so hard you wonder if he’s trying to pierce your skin. 

“Need you,” you chant against his neck, tongue fluttering against his earlobe. “Need you, need you, need you.”

Whatever restraint he might have been aiming for snaps when you run your hands up underneath his shirt, tracing shapes and words around his nipples. “Please.”

His hands are trembling against your thighs now. “Baby…” 

“Tell me,” you coo for him, giving him light little kisses and teasing his lips with the tip of your tongue, pulling away just before he can try to deepen it. “Tell me what you need.”

Eddie’s hardly speaking anymore, his words strung out into one long, breathy groan. “Need to be inside you, baby -”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, p-please.” He sighs, unbuckling his belt and letting it hang loose over his hips, desperately trying to relieve the growing pressure. “‘M not gonna last much longer if you keep - if you -”

“Okay, honey, okay.” You press a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’ve got you, Eds.” 

You get up off his lap briefly, one leg on the top of the table and one knee resting on the seat underneath. Eddie hisses as you unzip his jeans, taking a few seconds to gently stroke the bulge twitching angrily before you. 

“Should we go to your van or… here?” 

“Here,” he says so quickly you almost don’t catch it. The words stumble out of him. “Please, baby, nobody’s here, no one’ll see, need it so badly -”

You almost can’t believe that your little fantasy is coming true, but you don’t care. You need it just as badly as he does, if the growing ache between your thighs is anything to go by. 

He pulls his own jeans down to his ankles as you do the same, taking a moment to rifle through his bag urgently before finding his wallet. Eddie pulls out a condom seconds later, but nearly drops it when he sees your lacy underwear as you stand upright again. 

“God, Y/N,” he whispers. “All that for me? C’mere, baby.”

You straddle his thighs once more as he pulls you in for another kiss. His fingers pull at the hem of your underwear, pulling it to the side, and you both moan as he ghosts over your folds. 

“Fuck, so wet for me already?” 

You can’t speak, only nod, and press your lips to his more urgently. He takes the hint, deepening the kiss as his tongue swipes across yours, hungrily exploring every inch of your mouth as his hand moves lower between your thighs. 

He grazes your entrance with his fingertip, giving you a wary glance before slipping inside, moving slowly and carefully for fear of hurting you. It’s the opposite, actually, because each little inch moving deeper is setting your blood aflame. 

“More,” you whimper into his mouth, and he nods, pulling almost entirely out before sliding back inside again. Eddie adds a second finger as he begins to fuck you in earnest, crowing as your thighs start to tremble. The squelch of his movements echoes around the both of you, almost deafening against the silence among the trees, but you don’t care. You really don’t care, because he’s pushing against something that starts to send a white-hot pressure across your stomach, unfurling through you like a flag in the breeze.

“I’m gonna cum -” You squeeze your eyes tight, arms trying to smother him with a vice-like grip, sharing the intensity with him.

“Fuck. Cum for me, baby.” He pulls back slightly, forehead still pressed against you but wanting to watch as you fall apart. He doesn’t want to forget this moment, not as long as he lives.

Your orgasm hits you like a bullet, ripping through you with such intensity that he has to hold you down to stop you falling off the bench while you writhe on top of him, releasing his name to the heavens. 

Tears fall down your cheeks as you wail, screaming out something incomprehensible as he gently removes his fingers. You’re still clinging onto him for dear life. Eddie sucks the juices from them as you clench down on the emptiness, groaning as he swirls his tongue and licks them clean.

“You taste incredible, Y/N,” he murmurs, looking at you in almost reverence. “Holy fuck. That was… That was hot. Jesus Christ.” 

“Do you want to do it… for real, now?” You gesture to the condom wrapper that he’s been clenching in a tight fist; luckily, it seems to have escaped unscathed, not even slightly torn through his movements.

“Yeah,” he grins. His face is red and glistening with sweat, and you’re probably not looking much better. “Do you?”

“Fucking hell, yes.”

Eddie chuckles a little at that, raising himself briefly as he pulls his boxers down to rest mid-thigh. His erection springs out against his stomach, and you can’t help but stare. It’s… larger than you expected, certainly - but you’re not exactly an expert on penises.

He sees your hesitance and strokes your cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says softly, smiling down at you. “It’ll fit, I promise. And if not, we can always try again another time, yeah?”

You nod. He's being gentle, so sweet you could almost choke on it, and if you weren't feeling so frantically desperate it would probably have moved you to tears. But you're impatient and he damn well knows it, so you just say: “Yeah. Now put it inside me or so help me God.”

"Yes, Y/N," he fake-sighs, as though it's some laborious chore, but his lips twitch upwards all the same.

Eddie pulls the condom out of the wrapper and is about to slide it on when he pauses, looking up at you sheepishly. "Do you want to, or should I…?"

You want to try. Gingerly, you take it from his grasp; it's thin and rubbery, almost like one of those disposable gloves they wear in kitchens, and the absurd feeling makes a bubble of anxious laughter burst out of you. 

"What's up, buttercup?" He quirks a brow at you.

"It just feels weird." You can't help but giggle. "It's like a glove, Eds!" 

"Sure is, sweetheart." He sounds deeply amused now. The whole thing is starting to feel more and more like a farce, and it eases the nerves for both of you.

You check it's the right way up before wrapping your hand around his cock and slowly sliding it on, marvelling at how he throbs under your touch and how warm he feels. Eddie's eyes are rolling into the back of his head as you move lower and lower until your fingers are resting against his abdomen. You give his cock an experimental squeeze, then a rub, and he clings onto you with a vengeance, all but burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“Gotta be quick, sweetheart. Anyone might find us -”

“Oh?” 

It’s unlikely at this point. There’s no clubs tonight, nothing going on, no reason for anyone to still be skulking about the school grounds… but there’s still a slim chance for someone to sneak up on you, and it adds to the delicious urgency flowing through you. 

“Come on, come on, you’ve got to -”

You position him with one hand, holding his waist with the other as you steady yourself. Your legs have started to shake a second time, but now from mounting nerves.

“Hey,” Eddie says quietly, removing your hand from his cock and sliding his fingers between yours. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to.” It comes out more biting than you intend. You exhale slowly. “I do. I’m just…”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He grins, and you can’t help but smile back. “I mean, I am too. Deathly scared. Lucky I came wearing brown pants today, huh?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, playfully shoving his chest. “Just, uh…. Just let me hold it still, so I can, uh -”

“Yes, ma’am!” He gives you a mock salute, forcing you to drop your gaze to avoid corpsing then and there.

There’s a sharp stab as he slowly pushes into you, making you wince. “I know, baby, I know,” Eddie murmurs softly, peppering your forehead with kisses as you try to ease down over him. “There you go, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart, just a few more inches. There you go… there you go, fuck.”

You take a moment to adjust as he bottoms out in you. It’s still stinging slightly, but each passing second makes the pain ease.

“I’m gonna try moving.” You don’t let go of his hand, squeezing a white-knuckle grasp as you slowly move up an inch, then down again. 

Eddie gasps. “Yes, Y/N, do that again. God.”

Encouraged now, you try a series of quick bounces, still feeling slightly out of your depth but no longer uncomfortable at least. His vocal responses let you know you’re heading in the right direction, so you move your hands behind you to grip the side of the table and switch off the last part of your brain still analysing your movements.

You rock your hips into him with abandon, groaning loudly. He kisses you, drinking your lips like a man starved, hands tangling in your hair. Your legs are clutching him as tightly as you possibly can, chasing the angle that makes a second orgasm creep up on you, willing it to come, any second - 

Eddie lets out a guttural moan as you feel a warm, pulsating sensation deep inside you, murmuring your name as he slumps against you. At first, you don’t realise what’s happened. Then he pulls back from you, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids eye contact, and you understand immediately.

“Eddie -”

“I’m sorry,” he splutters out. “I - I know it wasn’t very long, it wasn’t good, I -”

“Eddie, it’s fine. Honestly.” You chuckle, trying to ease the awkwardness before it can loom over you both any further. “It was your first time. My - our first time. It’s not supposed to be good.” You gently ease yourself off his thighs and slide your legs over the side, gasping slightly as his cock slides out of you. “That’s why people have a second time. And a third time. And, you know, keep… practising?” You busy yourself with sliding your underwear back in place, then picking up your jeans from where they’ve fallen onto the ground. No mud, luckily.

You’re shimmying them back over your hips as you turn to look at him, and realise he’s been staring at you the whole time. “Was it any good for you?”

“Yes.” Eddie nods his head vigorously, then clears his throat, laughing nervously. “Yes, it was. It really was, Y/N. Felt better than anything I could’ve dreamed up.”

“I liked it too. You made me cum, you know.”

There’s the cocky smile again. He looks naked without it. It’s like his jacket, or his Hellfire t-shirt; it’s practically a part of him. It belongs there. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You laugh, shaking your head. He’s like any other man now, revelling in the fact that he gave you the pleasure you’re still slightly reeling from. You wonder how long it will take for him to crow about it, the next time you’re on your own together. “And don’t forget I made you cum, so thanks would be nice.”

He chuckles at that, rolling his eyes as he fights with his own jeans. “Won’t forget in a hurry, sweetheart. You can count on that.”

“Definitely need more practising though. You know, so all the girls at Hawkins have something to actually look forward to.” You stick your tongue out as he staggers back from an imaginary shot.

“Ouch, Y/N! Is this what losing your virginity does, huh? Turns you into a mean vixen?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “Maybe I was one already.”

“Those boys aren’t gonna know what hit them. You’re gonna break so many hearts with that little hip thing you did.” He thrusts his hips up into the air, mimicking a porn-like expression. 

You snort. “As if.”

“Well, you’re still saddled with me for now.” Eddie waggles his eyebrows at you, slinging a bag strap clumsily over one arm. “We both need to practice if we’re gonna be on our A-game by prom season.”

“You’re not going to prom.” It’s not even a question, it’s a statement. Still, you can’t help raising one eyebrow in disbelief.

“No, I’m not,” Eddie agrees, shivering in mock horror. “Really couldn’t give less of a fuck about that whole charade. Crappy music, no alcohol, a whole gym full of shitheads in dumb suits? And not even one Metallica song?” He shrugs. “Still a prime chance to get laid, though.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You haven’t really thought that far ahead yourself, already resigned to the fact that even if you did turn up, you’d be going without a date. And what kind of loser would do that? “Well, we have a good few months until then. Plenty of time, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He offers his hand to you with a grin. “Fuck buddies?”

You shake it, grinning back. “Fuck buddies. You’re still gonna drive me home, right?”

He rolls his eyes. “Such a harsh taskmaster, Y/N. I pity any guy who tries to date you.” Eddie only laughs loudly when you whack him.

Tags:  @nana90azevedo @cutiecusp (if you want a tag for part 3+, just let me know!)

#bee writes #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie my beloved #fem!reader #f!reader

[keeperofthebox]

@bittersweetresilience made the unfortunate mistake of inviting me to rant about something so HERE WE GO

a lot of this is extrapolated but (puffs my chest out) i think i know the characters pretty darn well so im confident that im on the right track with thinking this way

this is gonna be all over the place. but when am i not. so anyway:

obviously emilie and amelie's birth order matters because one of them was the curious and whimsical heiress and the other was the well-behaved and studious not-heiress.

however adrien and félix's birth order isn't outright stated, just implied. emilie used the peacock miraculous first (obviously). she also died from complications with the peacock brooch before colt fathom did ("you remember our shooting contests....sorry i didn't go to your dad's funeral" anyone?). so adrien must be a few days/weeks/months older than félix is

now the reason that this even slightly matters to me whatsoever is that watching s3-4 of miraculous, i wouldn't have guessed that at all. félix has the complete upper hand over adrien when it comes to knowledge of their situation. he manipulates adrien and leads him to do certain things to further his plan. he confronts gabriel without letting adrien in on anything whatsoever.

but. BUT.

emilie was the curious and whimsical older twin who couldn't help but want to help her sister when she was in trouble (everyone being mad at her for her fertility issues).

pair this with the fact that FÉLIX LOVES ADRIEN. FÉLIX LOVES ADRIEN SOOOO MUCH (as we learned in the s5 episode emotion). and suddenly the entire situation makes perfect sense to me

adrien, the impulsive airheaded curious whimsical OLDER twin, who's just. genuinely nice. félix's home life is TERRIBLE so of course he would latch onto someone like that. someone who goes out of his way to be kind to félix, and have shooting contests with him, and switch places with him just to prank their families and laugh about it afterwards. adrien was probably one of the only shining beacons of light, compassion and love that félix had other than his mother -

(which, side rant, that relationship is complicated by the fact that they both have the same abuser. canon doesn't outright say anything about amelie and colt i don't think but the way that amelie relies on félix and goes along with his plans reminds me a lot of the type of enmeshment that happens in mother-child relationships where both parties are victims. no offense amelie. plus just literally every single piece of information we have about colt fathom leads me to think he just sucks, so bad, generally. leaving adrien as one of the only... for lack of a better word, "pure" positive influences that félix might have had growing up) -

and thus of COURSE félix would deem it fit to become this conniving, cunning, mysterious person just to save adrien. félix went through hell because he's a senti so he doesnt want the same thing for his twin cousin. they're both constructs of the peacock miraculous. adrien is just like him, except too good for this world with how much he's willing to reach out and help lift others up. he's probably like, untainted in félix-vision. or like... félix's view is a bit warped even if his heart is in the right place.

so i guess what i mean is that adrien is like that trope of "he's so kind it makes him an idiot" and usually in narratives that type of character is "saved" by someone morally gray who idolizes and looks up to them... félix being the one in question. emphasis on looking up. because he's younger.

and. and. okay. also. okay. KAGAMI. RIGHT? here's the thing. emilie was the "heir", she's supposed to be the one who takes up the family mantle. but she didn't WANT IT. just like ADRIEN is supposed to be with kagami to uphold the family brand, but he doesn't WANT IT. HE WANTS TO GO LIVE THE BOHEMIAN LIFE WITH A TAILOR. it's félix who's actually suited to that role of being kagami's perfect trophy husband and who actually wants to be with her. JUST LIKE. AMELIE. IS. THE ONE WHO. (SCREAMS)

anyway considering all this no wonder félix thinks its okay to shield adrien from the truth. that's his perfect airhead older twin who was probably one of the only people who ever outstretched a hand to lift félix up. and félix probably decided that it's his turn to step up and be the shining beacon of light, compassion and love for adrien... he's just misguided about it because of his background. and so. (gestures vaguely). seasons 3-5 happened

SORRY IF THIS IS REPETITIVE i really dont know how to articulate it all that well

EDIT EDIT EDIT: I FORGOT TO SAY this also makes félix's reaction to adrien's friends video make sense in his self-titled episode. at first it seems like he just fucking hates adrien but actually what's happening is félix thinks that regular humans dont deserve to be given time with a senti, let alone one as kind as adrien

#keeperofthebox talks

[destinyc1020]

Its funny that anon mentioned daniel day lewis b/c this man barely promoted his projects, didnt really do the hollywood thing and he really let his work/acting do all the talking and arguably considered one of greatest actors of all time and was on top of hollywood with directors desperate to work with him, the same could be said of denzel washington not really into the hollywood thing obviously he was invited to parties but his talent did almost all the talking or jaoquin phoenix or emma stone or angela bassett etc the list goes on.. Being aggressive is one thing for some actors and may be the best route for them. but also like sometimes just working and you'll get them opportunities. Like going to events and whatnot is not the only way to thrive. Austin literally his route to fame was working with other actors and networking through them to get elvis and then through tom hanks got masters of the air just working alone is gpod enough. Again yoi dont need to got timmy or JE etc nothing wrong with that but you got acknowledge there are other ways of succeeding than just chasing every role.

Also why does anyone want one person to dominate the industry thats boring, I rather see multiple people succeeding at the same time and allowing newcomers to come and allowing them a platform to succeed. Stop obsessing over comparing tom to other actors everyones path is different. If he wants to place emphasis on breaks so be itz if hes in only for big paydays so be it, if he chooses to leave acting so be it, if he wants do theatre so be it, its his career the only perosn you need impress is yourself.

YESSSS!!!!

Its funny that anon mentioned daniel day lewis b/c this man barely promoted his projects, didnt really do the hollywood thing and he really let his work/acting do all the talking and arguably considered one of greatest actors of all time and was on top of hollywood with directors desperate to work with him, the same could be said of denzel washington not really into the hollywood thing obviously he was invited to parties but his talent did almost all the talking or jaoquin phoenix or emma stone or angela bassett etc the list goes on..

Exactly! Your WORK will eventually speak for itself. You don't need to be at every Hollywood party, or function in order to get recognized or get film roles.

I will say this though, a lot of the actors you mentioned (i.e. Denzel, Daniel Day, etc) WERE at Hollywood functions earlier in their careers. Just look online and do some Google search and photos. They attended the Oscars, the Golden Globes, etc.... Like, many of them (especially Denzel) were pretty regular at these functions, especially when they were in their prime.

They're older now, and they can AFFORD to not have to go to every single function or awards show. Some of these men are in their 60s and beyond. Of course they're not gonna be doing what some of the younger folks are doing lol. Some just wanna be in their bed ROTFL. 😅🤣

Either way, IF you are a GOOD actor, your WORK WILL speak for itself, and you WILL be getting people wanting to work with you. PERIOD. End of story. Now, whether you choose to accept these roles that come your way are another story. Not every actor wants to do everything. Not every actor wants to be another Leo DiCaprio or Daniel Day Lewis.

To me, Tom seems like he just wants to LIVE a normal life first and foremost, and then act on the side lol. 😅 And yes, maybe his whole focus and purpose changed when he met and fell in love w/the love of his life... 🥰 He's not a single man. He's found the LOVE of his life....so he might want to slow down some and focus on other things.

Also why does anyone want one person to dominate the industry thats boring, I rather see multiple people succeeding at the same time and allowing newcomers to come and allowing them a platform to succeed. Stop obsessing over comparing tom to other actors everyones path is different. If he wants to place emphasis on breaks so be itz if hes in only for big paydays so be it, if he chooses to leave acting so be it, if he wants do theatre so be it, its his career the only perosn you need impress is yourself.

YES Anon! All of this! I wish I could laminate and frame this whole entire last paragraph of yours lol. 😅

[thekingofwinterblog]

Any next gen Soul Eater ideas, like CroMa kids or something? Maybe they could finally start really healing the human-witch divide, unlike the copout super convenient manga truce🤷🏿‍♀️

Well to cover it in full, i'll start with how i would have handled their role in the plot, then gone over the individual characters and how one might handle them.

Now i would very much have the younger generation be directly involved/responsible for the two sides making peace, but one thing i would put a lot of emphasis on, is that this is NOT the case that the young was able to make peace with the witches because they had lost nothing.

This is one of the cheapest aspects of the way Kid made peace with the witches. Rather than forcing him to have to accept that people he cared about would go unavenged, kid never had to deal with having witches as a faction kill people he cared about, and so he never developed real hatred for them the way his father did.

This is very cheap, and it's the opposite of how i would have handled it with the next gen.

I would have had most if not all of them suffer real, genuine, personal losses in the war against witches which has ramped up during their early years.

Thus them eventually growing to tire of the war, and realizing that the conflict has to end at some point, even if it means giving up on revenge and payback would have had real, genuine bite.

And with that said, lets get into the real fun part. Dissecting the various aspects you could use to craft the next generation.

In regards to our favorite triangle, there is a lot of potential here.

To confront the most obvious thing out of the way, there is of course the question of wheter any biological child of Kid would also be a shinigami, and if so would the child be like Asura, who's senzu lines was already finished, but not full, or would they be like Kid's own.

If the latter, that completely changes the dynamic, because it means that the child in question has the potential to succeed him as the next great old one of order.

Kid was created with the goal of his father making a true successor that would ideally surpass him.

If kid has a child that has that same potential, it means that the kid in question is both someone Kid loves, but also the reality that to achieve that same potential that Kid unlocked, Kid in turn would have to die.

Even if any kid of Liz and Patty are not shinigami, their nature would still be very big parts of their dynamics with the world and their dad.

Because if fully Human, there is the very real fact that Kid will outlive them. Even in the best case scenario, where they die of old age, peacefully in their bed, their dad would still be eternally young and at their side to see it happen.

Needless to say, this is a great springboard to build character drama off, as the kids in question could easily have a very complicated question with their dad, who might be overprotective of them, and struggle to balance being a father, being the effective monarch of Death city, and their boss if they are Meisters or weapons.

And thats not even taking into account that as any story with half siblings born from a triangle, there is no guarantee that the kids would get well along. Liz and patty worked great because they had a very clear, uncomplicated and mutual love for one another.

As any look into histotical harem politics can tell you, this sort of dynamic very, very rarely appears amongst half siblings.

I imagine both liz and patty would both try to make their kids essentially the next generation's version of them, and that kind of thoughtless but well meaning parenting could easily lead to a very volitile couple of half siblings

And thats great, because theres a lot of ways you could write them with that background and dynamics in mind. And subsequentally, lots of character development you can get by putting this kind of complicated relationship of love mixed with rivalry through the wringer.

As for the kids personalities, the fact is that Kid, liz and Patty all have so many different traits and quirks that they could easily pass on to their kids that it's sorta all up to the author how each would turn out.

Moving on from the triangle, to the ninja duo, we have a parent and child dynamic that would either be great, or absolutely terrible.

Given how black star is, i have no doubt any child of him and tsubaki would probably embrace the fact they are the child of the strongest meister alive, essentially being very similar to him, or they would grow up to absolutely resent it.

Its not hard to see a kid who grows up trying to be black star, growing to absolutely reject the very concept of attaining power just because they want it.

And there are actually several ways to write that.

Obviously the kid could absolutely fail, and the story is about the fact they never had any shot at becoming as strong as he did, and so had to fidn their own way. But you could also write the opposite. Someone who DID attain the absolute peak... Then came to feel that it was all a waste of time, that by trying to be as great as dad, they wasted their entire life so far. That power was not all that important in the end.

Or they could be a happy go lucky kid who takes everything in stride for the most part like Black Star himself.

There are a lot of ways to write this relationship and the kind of person the kid would be.

Im not sure whas aort of relationship the kid would have with their mom though. I imagine Tsubaki would be a good caretaker, but other than being a good mom, i don't really see her as nearly as large a defining presscence in her childs teenage development as Black star is.

As for personality, wheter cynical or joyful, i would probably have them share a lot of traits with black star, like a love for the dramatics, a natural inclination to act over the top(if not mayhaps in the same attentionwhore manner as their dad), and maybe not being the brightest tool in the shed.

As for a child of Maka and Chrona, i would have said kid be the main protagonist of this story, just like her mother was the protagonist of the original.

And the reason for that, and for giving her a very distinct gender, is that i would explore this big conflict between Death's side, and the witches as a whole, by someone who is both.

Namely i would make full use of the fact that said child would be the granchild of Medusa, and in turn, be a witch just like her. Heck you could even have her take more from Medusa than either of her parents when it comes to look, which people have no problem pointing out.

One of the big problems with the witches as a faction is that we never really had a character to explore their inborn desire from destruction, and what that actually means... Well here's a great character to do that with. Someone who has chosen the side of order and law and is generally a good person... While also having all the same inborn urges that the opposition, the ones her own side deems as pure evil, has.

Its a great idea for a character journey, and thats withouth taking into acxount that if she has black blood, she would probably be prone to madness, just like Crona was.

That could manifest itself in bouts of utter bloodlust against evil enemies, just like how stein was when defeating medusa.

As for relationship with her parents, i like the idea of her growing up in a loving home, in stark contrast to her parent Chrona, she was the pride and joy of both her parents lives, and unlike her mother, she didnt groe up in the shadow of a broken relationship where everything just disitegrated.

Heck, even her relationship with spirit(as it would not be tainted by the man's infidelity), would probably be great.

No, her journey and character voes comes from the fact that while she has a great relationship with her family, unlike the rest of the cast, she has a far, far more tumoltous relationship with her homeland, the city state of death city.

There is an old african saying that "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth". That would be her personal conflict in a nutshell.

She has loved ones in Death city... But she does not love her home the way the rest of the cast does.

As a witch who kills her own, she suffers not only from racism from both sides of this conflict, but would probably also feel like nobody loves her, with all the self loathing that entails. Every single relationship she has is either family, or someone her parents introduced her to.

In other words, she is a very lonely individual, with a lot of issues regarding wanting to make friends, but having huge problems doing that.

In fact, i would use Maka and Crona's best moment, their connecting in the basement so long ago, as something she holds up as an ideal. She WANTS something like that... And the reality is she probably is not going to get it. If she wants to find her own soul mate, she'll have to do it her own way, just like her parents did.

And if she cant... She will one day find herself completely alone in the world, as the only one who'll live as long as she will, is her boss Kid, who she isnt all that close with.

So a bit of a mix between her parents. She has maka's bravery, but just like crona, she has terrible absolutely capacity for friendmaking, and because that attempts at making new relationships leads to constant failure, at some point she became afraid to even try, to risk rejection.

Needless tos say her coming to terms with her issues would very much tie in to the two sides who she like it or not, are connected to both of, begin making peace.

As for personality, probably a mix of her parents with Maka's overall attitude and fluctuating confidence levels, but with Crona's inclination of selfimposed withdrawal and isolation.

As for Soul, if this story has maka and Crona hook up, that probably means he hooks up with... Blair.

Now there is a lot of irony here, that the relationship that was set up as the obvious "false lead" ended up becoming the actual one that happened, and by the time it did, Maka was actually okay eith it, but there is one idea i kinda did want to explore with this relationship.

Namely their kid.

Blair is unfortunately one of soul eaters most wasted characters. Other than fanservice, and one later arc where they got to be cool, she was never really used to good effect.

Essentially what i would do with her and Soul's kid is a do-over. Explore the ideas of having a very distinctly non human main cast member, who has a very nonchelant attitude to everything, life, love, death and so on.

They are the observer that doesnt really fit in, who has very different priorities than the rest of the crew, who yes, is fighting against witches, but isn't actually ideologically invested in the conflict the way the rest are.

Wheras all the rest have very distinct ideological and personal reasons for wanting to comtinue this fight until they "win", they dont care.

This is just a job, not in the sense they get paid to do so, but rather it's a lifestyle choice, that just happens to also include a lot of cash that can be traded for fish and other goodies.

As such, this cat boy/girl could also act as a voice of reason as the ultimate point of this story is the painful march to peace.

As for relationship with their parents, I would have this also be distinctly non human like. Soul WANTS a traditional, father child dynamic. But the reality is that while his kid is both fond of, and loves him, at the tender age of early puberty, they feel like they have grown up and it's time to leave the nest forever and be independent.

Something that weirds out the rest of the cast, but which blair finds perfectly normal and is proud of.

As for personality, very similar to Blair, just with way more focus on their friendship with the rest of the cast.

As for the main other pairing who would probably be really important here, stein and Marie, i... Have no idea honestly.

The fact is both of them are wacky, and insane, just in very different ways, and you could combine both... Or you could have their kid end up being completely normal.

It depends on what role you need them to fill honestly. If you need the older, cooler upper classman who is a few years older than the rest that could work, or if you wanna have them be the next stein with all the screws loose, that works too.

Honestly if you just wanna have them be the love interest who is more science oriented than fighting, that could work too as well.

Any of these combinations could emphasise different aspects of both Marie and Stein and still work just fine for their role.

#soul eater anime #soul eater #soul eater evans #maka albarn #crona #cromaka #croma #soul x blair... I dont know what this is called #liz x kid x patty #marie x stein #meta #next gen #black star x tsubaki #black star #tsubaki nakatsukasa #death the kid #liz thompson #patty thompson #franken stein #marie mjolnir #witch #questions and answers

[riiwriting]

After The Party's Over | Satan (Obey Me)

summary : Parties in the Devildom always seemed to end in you caring for one of your drunken housemates. While you would never object to helping your friends, it sometimes got exhausting having to sacrifice your enjoyment for theirs. More often than not, Satan offered to lend you a hand in babysitting his brothers. After a particularly eventful party at the Demon Lord's castle, the two of you finally find a much needed moment alone.

no pronouns / second-person pov

warnings : teen rating for slightly (emphasis on slightly) suggestive content. depictions of alcohol and drinking

this one got away from me and is a bit long. apologies if long ficlets aren't your thing.

You had long since grown accustomed to the aftermath of parties at the castle. More often than not, you were stuck trying to control Mammon and Asmo as they drunkenly begged for the festivities to continue. Or worse, you were on Beel duty, tasked with keeping him out of the kitchen while the staff cleaned up. You weren’t sure when Lucifer had decided that you were in charge of babysitting his overzealous brothers every time they drank, but it became increasingly difficult once you found yourself comfortable enough to drink along with them.

The close of Diavolo’s birthday was no different than any other event, with you just a little tipsy from a few shots you had let Solomon talk you into, and Asmo running amuck trying to scrounge together as many phone numbers as possible. The fifth brother was noticeably missing from your group as you loitered near the front door, waiting for Lucifer to join you.

As you typically did in group situations, you had gravitated to Satan’s side, and were welcomed invitingly. He slung an arm around your shoulder the second he realized that he was your destination, smiling to himself when you leaned into his side. You had just wrapped your arms around his torso when Lucifer appeared in the hallway, apparently having finally finished his farewells with Diavolo. He took inventory of the six of you before realizing who was missing.

He immediately sent you a decisive look, causing you to deflate under Satan’s arm. You knew what his look meant without him needing to say it, but because he was Lucifer, he said it anyways, “MC, go find Asmodeus.”

With a sigh, you stepped away from Satan, who was not shy in his disdain at you leaving his side. His eyebrows creased as he glared across the hall at his older brother. “Why don’t you go find him, if you’re so eager to leave. Do something yourself for a change,” he sneered. He almost went as far as to stop you from moving at all, but he thought better of it.

Lucifer’s gaze sharpened, his mouth falling just slightly agape at his young brother’s dissent. The two of them might have started bickering, but they quickly realized it was pointless, as you were already halfway out of the room. Before Lucifer even had a chance to reprimand his younger brother, both of their attention was caught by you waving a dismissive hand over your head. “Don’t bother. I’m a professional at this point,” you grumbled pridefully, your words only slightly slurred.

Perhaps it was how badly your feet were hurting, or maybe you were feeling the liquor more than you previously thought, but either way, you didn’t have the patience to listen to them squabble. They thought well enough to save any words they might’ve had for after you were out of earshot.

You followed the curving corridors of the castle back to the ballroom, where you were unsurprised to find Asmo still attempting to cuddle up to Solomon as he helped clean. On one hand, you were happy to find Asmo so quickly. On the other, you were tired of looking at Solomon.

The latter was apparently more evident, as the sorcerer chuckled as you approached. “I know we’ve been together all evening, but you could look a little happy to see me,” he jeered playfully.

You rolled your eyes before tiredly setting them on Asmo. “We’re going,” you said simply.

He let out a whine of defiance, stepping further behind Solomon. Defeatedly, your eyes traveled back to your fellow human in a silent plea for assistance. His lips fell into a lazy smile that had become quite familiar to you before he gathered a handful of dirty plates and turned, offering them out to Asmo. “If you’re going to stay, you’re obligated to help,” he advised, his smile unmoving.

Asmo took one look at the disastrous dishes and shook his head, stepping away from your friend in disgust. His eyes found yours, and he extended a hand in your direction. “Let’s not keep the others waiting. Goodnight, Solomon,” he quickly excused, wasting no time in tugging you away. You made sure to shoot Solomon a grateful smile over your shoulder as the fifth brother tugged you out into the hall.

When the two of you stepped into the entryway, it was oddly quiet. The silence disappeared as soon as you stepped into the light, as Mammon was suddenly shouting, “Fuckin’ finally!” He pushed himself up from the floor, drunkenly staggering to his feet. He boldly stated, “Le’s go home,” in a futile attempt to lead the march back to the House. He took two steps before his unsteady legs sent him careening into Lucifer, who heaved a deep sigh, but accepted his fate in supporting his younger brother on the walk home.

Satan fell into step alongside you and Asmo, who took his brother’s appearance as a sign of his desire to spend time with him. “Two of my favorite people, right here, just for me!” he drunkenly cheered as he all but collapsed between the two of you.

As you both darted to hold Asmo upright, you shared a look with the blonde haired demon over his brother’s head. His lips fell into an annoyed scowl, but there was amusement dancing in his eyes. You shook your head at him before turning away to keep your own laughter contained. Clumsily, the two of you hurried to follow behind Lucifer, dragging Asmo along as you went.

Unlike Mammon, who regained control of his footing about halfway through your walk back, Asmo remained dependent on you and Satan for the rest of the evening. When the eight of you reached the House of Lamentation, everyone sort of went their own ways. Mammon, Belphie, and Beel peeled off into the kitchen, while Lucifer and Levi both heaved exhausted sighs before excusing themselves for the night.

The idea that some of you actually wanted to go to bed seemed to disgust Asmo, as he flipped an impolite gesture at Lucifer’s retreating form. “Can you believe them? Going to bed so soon?” he scoffed. “I mean really, it’s hardly–“ as he tried to continue his rant, a yawn interrupted his words.

Taking a moment to peer into your friend’s eyes, you found them to be more bloodshot than you initially thought. You cast a gaze over to Satan, who caught it knowingly, seemingly already having made the same observation that you had. He gave you an affirming nod as a silent offer to take responsibility from here. When you stepped back, his lips quirked into a gentle smile, as it always pleased him to see you giving yourself a break.

“Come on, you should get to bed yourself,” Satan insisted, tightening his grip around his brother’s shoulders as he steered him towards the stairs.

Asmo gasped in offense, attempting pathetically to wiggle out of the stronger demon’s grip. “I don’t want to! Although, I suppose if you and MC come, I might be convinced,” he teased flirtatiously, causing Satan to send you a concerned glance over his shoulder.

When you simply giggled at their behavior, Satan rolled his eyes, silently vowing to get an apology out of you later. “You’re going to sleep, Asmo,” Satan pointedly replied. His newfound annoyance had driven him to practically shoving his brother up the stairs, rather than guiding him the way he had been before. The two of them certainly were a sight as they clumsily disappeared up the stairs, Satan’s patience wearing thinner and thinner with every step.

On your way to your own room, you decided to take the long way around in the house in an attempt to avoid any other drunken nuisances. You managed to get there safely, and after heaving a tired sigh, you collected your pajamas and retreated into your bathroom to get ready for bed. You enjoyed your peace and quiet for the majority of your nighttime routine, until you heard the door in the other room swing open while you were brushing your teeth.

“Oi!” Mammon’s voice slurred from your bedroom.

Beel’s voice followed shortly after – much softer, yet carrying a similar inebriation. “MC, we brought you a snack,” he called politely.

You squeezed your eyes shut in annoyance, silently cursing yourself for actually believing you’d be able to escape them. You finished brushing your teeth and spit, shouting that you would be right there, before rinsing your mouth. Trying to scrape together as much alone time as possible, you moved leisurely about your bathroom, wiping down the counter and reorganizing your products.

After doing everything you possibly could to kill time, you finally joined the two demons in the other room, where you were greeted with an amusing sight. Mammon was sprawled sideways across your bed, already snoring softly against your sheets. Beel was sitting on the floor with an empty plate in front of him. You suspected that your “snack” had previously been on said plate, and Beel’s guilty expression validated your assumption.

“Sorry,” he apologized, his cheeks red. “You just took so long.”

With an affectionate sigh, you reassured him, “It’s fine. I already brushed my teeth, anyway.”

Beel’s goofy smiled returned immediately at your spoken forgiveness, though it was quickly wiped away by a yawn. He glanced around the room to find Mammon, and when he did, he frowned. He doled out his best puppy dog eyes as he turned to you. “Is it okay if I sleep here, too?” he asked sweetly.

You both knew that you weren’t going to say no, so by the time you nodded in response, he was already making himself comfortable on the floor. Within the next three minutes that it took for you to finish putting your things away, he was fast asleep.

You had to take a step back to study the scene that had unfolded in front of you. Mammon was crowding the majority of your bed, and Beel was taking up quite a bit of the floor. You quickly acknowledged that there would not be a way for you to sleep comfortably in your own room. Huffing a short sigh, you snagged a blanket and pillow from under Mammon’s legs and stepped out into the corridor.

Yawning gently, you made your way down the hall, deciding that if you couldn’t sleep in your bed, the couch in the library was your second best bet. After how long your evening had been, you certainly didn’t think you had to worry about anyone else being there at that time of night. But the moment you stepped into the doorway, you realized that your assumption was incorrect.

One of the lamps in the corner was flicked on, illuminating a familiar mop of blonde hair curled up in a nearby armchair. Your arrival must have caused a floorboard to creak, as his green eyes quickly discarded the novel in his lap, instead focusing on your silhouette in the doorway. His hands closed the book in front of him, as there was suddenly something much more interesting standing in front of him.

“Sorry,” you quickly gushed after seeing how badly your arrival distracted him. “I didn’t think you were still awake. I didn’t think ANYONE was still awake.” Though you had to admit, if you had to run into anyone, you were glad it was him.

He chuckled, his cheeks dusting with a wash of embarrassment. “Well, after fighting to get Asmo to his room, my temper flared,” he admitted bashfully, “I came here to calm down before bed.” Your head bobbed in an understanding nod. Satan had undeniably come a long way in controlling his wrath since you first met, but the shortness of his temper was something that would never go away.

You had still been hesitating near the doorway, but his comforting demeanor convinced you that you weren’t intruding after all. You crossed the room, seating yourself in the chair across from him. “What are you still doing up?” Satan asked as soon as you settled, an affectionate smile pulling at his lips.

You stifled the urge to roll your eyes as you explained your situation. “Mammon and Beel let themselves into my room while I was brushing my teeth. By the time I was ready to go to sleep, Mammon was taking up my entire bed, and Beel was asleep on the ground,” you told him, unable to help the bit of laughter that breezed through you.

Satan scrunched his nose up at the idea of his brothers making themselves at home in your room. His stomach churned with jealousy for a moment, until he remembered that their presence had driven you to where he was. And whereas you were seemingly uninterested in spending any more time this evening with his brothers, you clearly didn’t mind sitting with him.

After breaking with a small yawn, you returned to explaining your thought process to Satan. “I figured, since I couldn’t sleep in my own bed, this would be my best bet.” You felt your cheeks redden at your own words. Spoken out loud, it did seem a little pathetic for you to be resigning yourself to the couch in the library, rather than forcing the demons out of your room.

“You were going to sleep in here?” Satan repeated inquisitively the first time. His tone wasn’t belittling, instead he sounded genuinely surprised, as though he thought he hadn’t heard you correctly the first time.

When you bashfully nodded, his lips straightened into a frown. His gaze was hot on your face, turning you to the same sheepish mess that his intimate attention always did. Without needing to give it much thought, Satan decided, “Nonsense. You can sleep in my room.”

You were enthused by the idea – so much so, that you wondered if your subconscious had been hoping for the offer all night. Or perhaps even longer. For a moment, you were lost in your own head, trying to recall exactly when your friendly opinion of Satan had changed. Maybe it had never been just friendly to begin with.

Your rampant thoughts caused a silence to unfold in the library, forcing an embarrassed tint to Satan’s cheeks. “You can have my bed, of course. I’ll sleep elsewhere,” he refined.

“No!” you interjected quickly, silently cursing yourself for causing his confidence to waver. It was evident that your objection caught him by surprise. You quickly launched into a gentle explanation, “I just don’t want to burden you, that’s all.”

The affectionate smile that you desperately desired returned as he listened to you speak. “MC, I wouldn’t offer my bed to someone I viewed as a burden,” he reasoned, his tone light.

Immediately, his words had you curious about how many other bodies had been welcomed to his bed, and if your invitation was anything more than a kind gesture. As if sensing your internal conflict, Satan stood from his seat, holding his hands out for you to take. When you hesitated, opting instead to stare admiringly up at him, he chuckled, “Come on, you need some rest.”

Whether it was the look in his eyes or the sweetness in his tone, you weren’t sure, but something about him tugged your strings. Without needing to think about it, you slipped your hands into his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Now that you were standing, the two of you were a lot closer to one another, a fact that got clearer and clearer the longer you looked at him.

For a moment, he considered saying something. You had a look in your eyes that he saw frequently, yet had never been able to understand. It was timid and vulnerable – two traits that you very rarely encompassed. It only appeared in moments like these, when the two of you were tiptoeing the line of something more. Almost always, your expression lasted mere seconds before you caught yourself, stepping away from the moment before he had time to react.

Satan assumed this time would be no different, and he was proven to be incorrect. You had become restless under the idea of someone other than you in his bed, and now you could feel his breath dancing across your lips. The thought of running hadn’t even crossed your mind. As soon as he realized that you weren’t going anywhere, his gaze softened. That was all it took.

You closed the little space between the two of you, your lips brushing against his in an uncertain show of confidence. It was a quick gesture, hardly classifiable as a kiss at all, but it turned the Avatar of Wrath into a blushing disaster. Your nerves had never been so on edge, yet upon seeing his wide eyes and red cheeks, you couldn’t help but laugh.

One he registered your laughter, Satan’s expression immediately changed. All of his surprise had drained into a sharp gaze, his eyes staring into yours with an undefinable intensity. Your laughter died on your lips and you worried that you had actually overstepped.

Your nerves were hardly allowed time to settle as Satan released your hands from his grip, instead moving to pull your hips closer to his. In mere seconds his lips were on yours again, properly this time, as he kissed you hungrily. Desperate to be as close to him as possible, you wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your toes, allowing his hands on your waist to angle your body into his.

His hands slid across your body to the small of your back, forcing a soft sigh from your lips. He took the opportunity to draw your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling at your skin with a gentleness entirely uncharacteristic of the Avatar of Wrath. When your grip around him tightened, you felt his smile against your mouth, clearly pleased with himself.

He held your lips heatedly for a few seconds more before pulling away. Once your head stopped spinning, you recognized the smile that was on his lips. The look in his eyes, however, was different. His expression was just as playful as ever, though there was something in the way he looked at you now that wasn’t there before.

“MC, please come burden me by sleeping in my bed,” he teased.

His words made you smile, and you murmured a quiet, “Okay,” before leaning up to brush another brief kiss against his lips. “But only if you don’t sleep elsewhere.”

His fingers tightened on your back, pulling you back into him with little protest on your behalf. By that point, his smile had long since turned into a smirk. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. You should know I won’t be going anywhere now,” he said earnestly. He kissed you again, as though to prove a point that neither of you needed proven.

You melted in his arms as he held you close, and then followed blindly as he led you down the hall to his room. You may have had power over him through your pact, but when it came down to it, you were putty in his hands. You were lucky enough that he didn’t seem to know how much power he held over you, but you didn’t think it would you’d be able to hide it much longer.

It wasn’t long until you were beneath Satan’s sheets, wrapped tightly in his arms. He held you close to his chest, his fingers rubbing circles on your hips and thighs, your bodies fitting together as though they were made for another. Sleep crept into the back of your mind, but you fought against it just a little longer. You wanted to enjoy this moment with him.

When you felt the heaving of his chest lull, you wondered if he had already fallen asleep. “Satan?” you whispered against the dark room.

Your question was met with a quiet, “Hmm?” from the half-asleep demon. Hearing your voice prompted him to absentmindedly tighten his hold on you.

You paused for a moment, listening to his soft breathing. All of a sudden, every feeling you had for him was bubbling to the surface. You wanted him to know how deeply you cared for him, how desperately you had been waiting to hold him like this. He deserved so much love that nobody has ever shown him, and you needed him to know that you wanted to change that.

“There are so many things I want to tell you,” you whispered, more for your own benefit than for his ears. By that point, you figured he had fully succumbed to sleep, anyway.

To your surprise, he shifted, turning to bury his face against the curve of your neck. “I want to hear them all,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His mouth brushed the skin at the base of your neck, the first contact in a trail of kisses leading up to your jaw. As he pressed a kissed underneath your ear, he whispered, “I want to hear anything you want to say.”

You couldn’t help but arch beneath his kisses, your chin inadvertently tilting towards his. Your noses bumped, and he seized the opportunity to drag a lazy kiss against your lips. You kissed him back, mumbling, “I want to do this forever,” against his mouth.

Moving one of his hands up your body to cup your face, Satan pulled your lips back to his, kissing you with an intensity similar to his attitude in the library. “However long you want me, darling,” he whispered once he finally deigned to pull back from your lips. “You already know that I’m yours.”

#obey me! shall we date? #shall we date? obey me #obey me otome #obey me #shall we date? obey me satan #obey me satan #obey me / reader #satan obey me #obey me oneshot #obey me ficlet

[nataliedrawz]

Lupical?

WARNING: This is a tickle fic, this is also a non-platonic story that has happened so please continue if you do not mind. Enjoy my rat army <3

"Lupical?" The ember eyed male had questioned, arm's stretching over his own head as a long awaited yawn slipped out, the oni, Arataki Itto, had turned his attention to the younger, Razor, immediately. The two had just met not that long ago, the week filled with silly and new learning experiences for the wild boy, Itto couldn't help but call him a little brother as in his eye's, he was just as lost as he once was. But right now, he needed him to rest.

"Yeah, little bro?" Itto made a grin, smiling all the more when Razor had nuzzled his head under his hand to earn his 'one and oni greatest pats' that his ever received, despite the long nails and abnormally large hande, he had a very gentle and caring touch, almost as gentle as Bennett's, a friend Razor had in Mondstadt. "Razor no sleep now." The smaller said. Itto fanned shock in his expression, but what he didn't expect was for Razor to adjust himself away from nuzzling underneath his jaw and curl against his chest, this, hurt the oni a bit.

"Little bro, you need to sleep, c'mon, we'll have alot of fun tomorrow! This oni promises that, aight?" He smiled, giving his tummy a poke to emphasis on the fun part. He couldn't help but choke out a gasp as he heard Razor giggle from the small poke.

"Y'know what? I think we got enough time for one more activity before beddy by time." And thus, claws rained down on the other, dancing over his side's, holding his awe as Razor tilted side to side and giggled happily from the playful activity, "Why Rahahazor laugh? Rahahazor can't stohop!"

Itto could swear his heart clenched so hard from such pure giggles, they weren't too loud or too silent, they were just airy and bubbly, mixed in with a few gasps and squeals whenever the oni changed his ticklish tactics, "Oh, is my little bro ticklish here? Or over here maybe? Ooo! Maybe right here too!" He laughed along, unable to hold back his excitement while he kneaded his thumbs into the side's of his ribs, earning a louder squeal and arm's to flap around as they tried to get used to the newer sensation's.

"R-Rah-AGH! KYAHAH!" His back lifted off the ground in an attempt to flail out, "Bingo." Was all he heard Arataki say before his thumbs latched on and buzzed right against the side's of his stomach, just midway from his hips and sides, making him retract his arm's and suddenly have his legs spasm underneath him, "Oh? I guess you're little buddy wasn't wrong when he said you really were raised by wolves, huh? You got a little kicking habit! Let me help you!" He smirked, grabbing his ankle and scribbling gently at his sole, making the younger shriek and curl up.

"RAHAHAZOR SLEHEHEP NOHOHOW, RAHAHAZOR SLEHEHEHE-EEP!" He threw his head back, Itto planting a large raspberry onto his tummy, "Take the wrath of the one and omi's special meal, raspberries!" He cooed, planting even more as he listened to the night echo with howls of now tired laughter. Perhaps Razor might want to listen to his big brother next time.

#ratty writes #lee!razor #ler!itto #ticklish!razor #ticklish!itto #genshin tickle #genshin impact tickle #genshin impact tickling #tickle fic #tkl fic #tk fic #tickle trope #tickle blog #tickle #tickling #genshin impact

[pavo-ocxllus]

« rewind. / pause. / fast forward. »

you exited the interrogation room to find yanfei in the room directly in front of the, who was currently sitting in front of a little cubicle with a telephone against her ear. for a second, you forgot she was with you in the first place. was this what she was up to...?

"yanfei-?"

"shh! i'm on a call right now?" she put a strange amount of emphasis into that one word. "sorry about that, please continue?"

she paused, nodding and jotting down notes, eagerly listening to what the other person had to say. 

curiously, you went behind her to see the other person on the line.

...a child?!

of course, the occasional juvenile delinquent isn't out of the ordinary, but this kid couldn't be any older than eight or seven! what the hell was he doing in the criminal side of the visitation center??

the boy seemed to pique everybody else's attention in the station as well, the guards and other convicts giving him a funny look as the boy continued to chat with yanfei.

upon closer inspection and squinting your eyes a bit, you started to realize that he looked strangely like CHILDE... was he the little kid that KAEYA was referring to?

"alright, thank you! now, i would like for you to uphold your end of the pinky promise and let the nice officers over there escort you out. ajax must be so worried! uh-huh... will do. bye bye!"

hanging up the call and watching as the little boy enthusiastically went along with one of officers the salmon-haired attorney was quick to slump in her chair, going under the desk. letting out small groan, she added, "...that was a lot."

"you seemed to be a natural at talking to him, though!" you tried to cheer her up a bit. 

"it's whatever..." yanfei straightened her posture, looking to you. "how'd interrogating him go? i'd hate for kaeya to interfere."

at her grumble, you couldn't help but laugh. "well, he did, but i suppose it wasn't too bad. anything you've learned."

"oh! right, the boy i was talking to earlier is tartaglia's younger brother. he decided to take a visit to the police station because a certain someone decided to break out the day of diluc's sentence—archons', it's as if he's asking for a longer sentence... anyways, tartaglia's birth name is ajax. though it doesn't link him to most of his crimes—"

"—it could link him to other things."

"exactly! so, whatever he said in his testimony, we might be able to prove!" she clasped her hands together. doing that, she glanced at her wristwatch for a few seconds before comically bugging her eyes out. "crap! we've got to get moving!!"

swiftly she took your wrist and practically started soaring down and out of the police station. next thing you knew she was starting up her car.

↳ it's time for lunch!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫? 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞! <𝟑

#𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞.! #𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠: [𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲! 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭...!].! #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[101flavoursofweird]

73 and Layton for the angst/fluff promp?

((Thanks for the prompt! I took this prompt and made a new entry in the Put Yourself Back In The Narrative series… Sorry. There are references made to Flora’s OC girlfriend, Kuri, and her family.))

Spoilers: For most of the series

Set: The day before Layton and Luke set off on their journey 

Warnings: Mentions of a character (an OC) who might have cancer… Flora being critical of Layton’s choice to leave his family behind, because even though LMJ might be retconned, I still want Flora to call Layton out.

Summary: Flora confronts Layton before he leaves with Luke on their mystery journey.

Flora hadn’t confronted the Professor at ho— at his house, where Alfendi and Kat could overhear. Instead, she had caught him just as he was leaving his university office.

Several items were missing from his office, Flora noted apprehensively; the tea set, a collection of maps, a few books off the shelf, his ‘secret’ folder of relics stones research, his spare hat…

The professor had even dusted off his old trunk. He placed the trunk on the table as Flora berated him:

“You didn’t tell me you and Luke were leaving tomorrow!” (Thankfully, Al had the decency to let Flora know in person.)

“Apologies,” the Professor said distractedly, adding a family photo to the trunk, “I thought you had received my message—“

“Well, I might’ve missed it!” Flora exclaimed. “Kuri’s been worried sick about her younger brother— Hisato. We’ve been waiting to hear from her family…”

Kazue— Kuri’s other brother— was distraught. Apart from making frantic phone calls to Kuri, he refused to leave Hisato’s side. 

Kuri was almost climbing the walls at home, wishing she could be with them.

“You mentioned her brother was in hospital?” the Professor murmured, much to Flora’s surprise. (He and Luke had been so busy lately that she didn’t think he would remember…)

Flora nodded. “H-Hisato’s has been having tests. They think…” Her breath shook.

Did she really want to bother the professor with this, right before his trip? There wasn’t much the Professor could do with this knowledge— unless he had access to an ancient, magical cure— but he could… comfort Flora, at the very least, and by extension, Kuri.

He could be there for Flora.

“They think it… it might be… thyroid cancer.”

Flora put an emphasis on ‘might’— as if that would improve Hisato’s chances. At twenty-one, he was young— too young— but they had found a lump in his neck that wasn’t getting any smaller.

Kazue kept asking if there was something he could do— some part of himself he could give— some price he could pay…

The price seemed too steep, despite all those hours Kuri’s parents had spent working away from home.

Kuri blamed herself for ‘abandoning’ her brothers when she left for university— even though they had both been safely in the care of their ojiisan— as if Kuri’s mere presence could have prevented Hisato’s illness.

At that moment, Flora hated knowing Kuri was home alone, but she’d wanted… needed to speak to the Professor.

Papa had been there, after Mama died. Bruno had been there, after Papa died. Now, the Professor was here…

Painfully, Flora swallowed.

“Oh.” The Professor sighed softly. His attention immediately shifted from his trunk (from his impending adventure) to Flora.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled her into a hug. Flora buried her face in his shirtfront.

“It’s not fair,” Flora sniffled. Her birth parents had both been taken by illness, but at least they had lived a few decades into adulthood; they had gotten married, settled down, and had Flora. 

Hisato was only a few years older than Al… 

Kuri was the same age as Flora. She would be shattered if she lost her little brother.

“There, there,” the Professor whispered, patting her on the back. “You and Kuri are welcome to stay at ours, if you like. I’ll have to get up early tomorrow to meet Luke, but—“

“Do you have to go?” Flora choked out. She pulled back from the Professor. “Right now?”

He nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid I must—“

“Why?” It wasn’t the first time Flora had asked that, and it wasn’t the first time he had tried to justify the need for him to undertake this journey with Luke.

“For Kat,” the Professor reminded her. “I need to be certain—“

“—That her father is dead, I know,” Flora snorted, wiping her nose. “You don’t want another ‘disastrous family reunion’ ten years down the line…” (Luke’s words, not Flora’s.)

The Professor had managed to reconcile with Uncle Desmond, eventually, but their biological father remained in prison.

“It’s better that we.., take these precautions,” the Professor reasoned. “I couldn’t live with myself if someone hurt Kat.”

“Me neither…” Flora pointed at him. “But what if you get hurt? Or Luke?” 

Kat would be heartbroken, then! Surely she would prefer her birth father remained a mystery over losing her adopted father.

“We’ll be fine,” the Professor assured her. He turned back to his trunk. “Far safer than we were during some previous cases, anyway—“

“I can tell you’re lying,” Flora huffed. 

At best, Don Paolo might interfere again. At worst, the Professor and Luke might encounter a more malicious foe.

The Professor looked at her. He wasn’t fast enough to hide the hurt in his face. “Now, Flora—“

“Can’t this trip wait?” Flora knew it was pointless— like a dog chasing after its tail— but she kept pleading with him nonetheless. “Can’t you wait until Kat’s older, o-or you’ve done more research, or more of us can help you?” 

Grinding her teeth together, she demanded, “Why won’t you let anyone else help you? Like Emmy and Desmond and Randall…!”

“I don’t want to involve them in… in this,” the Professor dismissed. “Not again—“

“No— it’s just about you and Luke, isn’t it?” Flora shook her head fiercely. “It’s always about you two…!”

How could she had been so foolish— to think the Professor had put his old ways behind him these past ten years? To think he wouldn’t abandon his children in favour of an investigation? To think he’d actually become an attentive father? 

And Luke… Luke was turning out to be no better than him; hiding things from his family, shutting Marina out…

Luke and the Professor were so obsessed with solving the mystery that they couldn’t see the ten-year-old girl right in front of them.

Flora was done with them both. 

The Professor reached for her. “Flora, please—“

She shoved past him. “Have fun relieving your adventures! I’ll be here for Kat and Al, even if you’re not. Good luck solving your s-stupid puzzle!”

Flora surged out of the office door. The Professor called after once more, but she didn’t turn back.

That was the last time she would hear his voice for the next eleven years.

#Answers #flora reinhold #professor layton #Flora/OC #Hershel Layton #my fics #thanks! #my writing #request #put yourself back in the narrative #Hisato means longevity and long life because I like bitter irony

[leggerefiore]

hi ! i like the way you write the submas twins !! the way emmet texts in your recent work was super cute ehe ^^

could i request the twins (separate) with an s/o who picks up their vocal quirks, or sometimes repeats them ? ex. s/o picks up emmets habit of saying "verrrrry"

cursed because i've almost started doing that (i am using very more and i hate it)

▲Ingo▼

● You're less likely to pick up his speaking quirks, but rather start being as loud as him. He's good at listening, but all the noise from the Battle Subway and station in general have made him slightly deaf. He also lacks volume control unless he's actively considering his tone. As such, when you speak in a mumble or whisper, he goes “huh?” at least once.

● Eventually it gets to the point where you're as loud as him. It's a public nuisance and people know when you and the Subway Boss are out together. “This a beautiful garden, isn't it, dear?” Ingo says, like he didn't just scare off a flock of Pidoves. “It really is! I love the tulips' colour variety.” You'll respond at his volume level, and another nearby couple is glaring at you both. Neither of you realize it.

● Though, his train-isms have definitely crept into your vernacular. Phrases like, 'That's the ticket', 'That train has left the station', 'Wrong station' and 'Staying on the tracks'. You hate it, but he stares at you so lovingly when they spill out.

● He's quite verbose, so you'll find your vocabulary growing when you speak with him and your overall conversation abilities increase. If you were struggling with that, he's accidentally helping you. Ingo will comment on it and say he's proud of you after realizing it. Your growth as a person is important to him.

● He'll pick up on your mannerisms, too. If you're extremely vulgar, the older twin might find more curses slipping out of him than usual. Ingo is always flustered when he does and profusely apologises whenever it happens.

● If you have your own -isms you use, say for example ship-isms, he will have you unintentionally join in on his train-isms. After scaring some delinquents who were about to graffiti a station wall, they all split up but left the weakest looking member behind. “Like rats abandoning a sink ship…” he comments mostly to himself. The meek delinquent tilts his head and scratches as hand through his shaved hair, “Uhhhh, aren't you that train guy?”

▽Emmet△

○ As soon as an elongated 'very' leaves your mouth, you curse him. Emmet's speaking habit has crept into your language. How long until you start introducing yourself with just 'I am' before your name. Emmet doesn't just hold out the sound in very, he does with other words when he wants to imply emphasis (and distinguish himself from Ingo).

○ Also spreads train-isms to you. You ended up in a shifty part of Nimbasa and the first thing you mumbled to your friend was, “I think we're on the wrong side of the tracks.” Suddenly, your tension was broke, you stomped your foot in frustration. How long did you have before you found yourself announcing 'All Aboard!' when gathering people or pokemon?

○ Contrary to Ingo, he shortens your sentences. If you're a verbose person who speaks in long sentences, you find your sentences curt and to the point. Emmet doesn't even notice and just assumes it's because you're more comfortable with him. He is truly a curse upon your vernacular.

○ Also picks up on your own mannerism, but a bit more noticeably. If you're vulgar, people are uncomfortable with the sudden crudeness that's morphed its way into the younger twin's words. He apologises and genuinely has no idea why it keeps happened. (If he realizes it's you, he'll probably talk to you about it. That, or, work on it himself because Ingo is glaring at him.)

○ It's funnier when Emmet uses your -isms. Let's say you use air related -isms, for example. The Subway Boss goes to meet with Elesa for a musical, and she's brought Skyla along with her. The three are having a wonderful night together when a punk attempts to steal a younger girl's pokemon. Emmet rushes over with Galvantula already out. The guy notices the angry twin, drops the ball and runs away. “Wooooow! That guy took flight,” he comments while rubbing the crying child's back. Skyla snickers at his words, “I'm the pilot here, thank you.”

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader

[mull3ts]

[ 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐲 ]

⚠︎ WARNiNGS | Smut (18+), Dilf! Husband! Aged Up! Johnny, Trophy Wife! Reader, Daddy Kink, Size Kink, Slight Bimbofication Kink, Hair Pulling, Creampie, Cunnilingus

Mr. Seo and Mr. Jung's eyes bore into your figure as you left the room, leaving them alone, only in the company of each other.

Mr. Jung cleared his throat. “So, Johnny, I can clearly see what you've been up to” he said, shooting his friend a knowing, sly, look.

Mr. Seo waved his hand dismissively to his friend. “I haven't been up to anything. I just happened to find a wife, t-that's all.” Mr. Seo didn't sound entirely convincing to Mr. Jung, he didn't even sound convincing to himself.

The younger man reached for the glass of water on the coffee table before crossing his legs. He set the glass down. “Oh, come on Johnny! You're what? 46? You've had a wife who's my age, you've got a kid that's her age, and now you're married to her!” Mr. Jung exclaimed, then recalling that Mr. Seo's son was now in college. He might ask about that later like most middle aged adults do.

Mr. Seo thought for a second while Mr. Jung continued. "You've won the lottery! You've won it haven't you, Johnny?" Mr. Jung said chuckling a little bit, making a mental note that maybe he should marry his mistress. Having a trophy wife was heaven in Mr. Jung's head if he was being honest.

Mr. Seo chuckled bashfully at Mr. Jung's words. “Guess you're right.”

“I know I am” Mr. Jung mumbled under his breath.

Minutes of talking and talking passed before both men stood up.

“Well. I'll see you soon, Jaehyun. Tell your wife I said hello” Mr. Seo said as he bid his friend goodbye, there was a clear emphasis on the word wife. Mr. Jung could easily tell as he looked down bashfully before making eye contact with you who stood next to your husband.

Husband? Husband! Husband.

The title was something you had to warm up to someday.

“Buh-bye, Y/N. Be good for your Mr. Suh here, m'kay?” Mr. Jung said smiling, looking down at you. You nodded, Mr Jung’s smile grew. He finally opened the door to his car and sped off, deep in thought. “I should marry my mistress” he thought to himself as he drove home.

Mr. Seo glanced at the clock from the couch, then glanced at you.

You were cooking, flipping through the recipe in a cookbook. Your hand was placed on your hip in confusion, what was the difference between a tablespoon and a teaspoon?

Mr. Seo put his book down and walks over to you, replacing the hand on your hip with his own. “M-Mr. Seo go back t-to reading unless you want me to burn the house down” You said absentmindedly. “Thought I told you to start calling me Johnny, hm?” he teased.

You scratched the back of your head, still in confusion because of a recipe “J-Johnny just feels unnatural” He only hummed in response. You sighed, “Get out of here, Mr. Suh. Can't concentrate.” adding a small breathy giggle at your husband's behavior at the end.

He hummed again. “M'not going anywhere, honey” he said, moving your face to look at him with his finger. He knew you hated eye contact, especially with him. But in contrast, he loved it. Watching you get flustered, trying to look everywhere, everywhere that didn't include his eyes.

You looked at him for a brief second. His hair was the same as earlier, his glasses were pushed to the edge of his nose, and his eyes were filled with amusement. He towered over you. Then you glanced away.

“Cute.”

When he let your head go, you placed your focus back into what you were cooking. Mr. Seo placed his hands back atop your hips, pulling you closer to his body. “Been wanting this body all day y'know.”

And suddenly, you found that you could no longer concentrate on cooking.

His hands start to caress your sides, “I've been waiting until we're all alone” His hands traveled up your shirt, groping your chest making you gasp, “Just so I could fuck this little girl dumb”

Mr. Seo set his glasses down on the counter top. “Hm?” His hands traveled to unclasp your bra and to lift your shirt. “You want Daddy to fuck you dumb until you're nothing but a cute little mess under me?”

You nodded frantically. Your pussy ached for nothing but him.

He smiled, his hands now venturing to cunt as he pushed past the waistband of your trousers followed by the waistband of your pantie.

Mr. Seo's arms were wrapped tightly against your body, ensuring you wouldn't squirm as he had his way with you.

You teeth sank into your bottom lip, "P-Please, Daddy, m'gonna burn the food, and if I b-burn i-it you'll have nothing t-to eat" you reasoned with desperation in your voice. His finger now ghosted your clit, "Now how could that matter if I already have my meal right here?" his voice was laced with a confidence that made you turn into putty.

You hips jolted when he applied more pressure to your clit earning a chuckle from Mr. Seo who pulled your face closer to his to kiss you.

While you were too engrossed in the rough kiss, Mr. Seo turned off the stove. As much as he needed to fuck you, he didn't want his house to burn down.

Your hands made their way to the nape of your husband's neck, deepening the kiss earning a grin from Mr. Seo. His grin grew wider as he felt your wedding ring against his skin.

Within the kiss, he moved you to the dining table that resembled the counter tops and lifted you up. Soon, he broke away. "Lift your arms, baby"

You did as he said, lifting your arms to let him remove your shirt and expose your chest to him. He reached down to your panties, dragging them down slowly until he pulled them off completely. Mr. Seo took in your figure for a moment. "What a pretty little angel I have, huh?"

He set his hand on your knee, pushing your legs apart. His hands roamed and rubbed your hips and inner thighs making your face heat up. His digits got closer and closer where you wanted them. You whined his name. "Shh, patience baby. Daddy'll get there". When he did get there, you felt like you were going to explode. Mr. Seo's fingers were magic to you. They were able to always stretch you out farther than your own fingers could.

Your eyes were screwed shut, "F-fuck! Daddy, r-right there..."

It was as if Mr. Seo's ears perked up.

He went deeper and faster than he ever had before, you even felt his cold wedding ring inside you. "What did Daddy tell you about cursing, baby?" He glared at you as your head was thrown back, "D-Daddy s-said no...n-no cursing! A-Ah! Please Daddy I really t-think I need t-to... t-to cum!" you stammered out. Mr. Seo hummed in reply.

"Damn, need to stretch out this little fuckin' pussy out for my cock," Mr. Seo said hoarsely "we wouldn't want this tiny little hole of yours to split into two, now would we sweetheart?" You shook your head, "No".

Mr. Seo felt you tighten around his fingers, as you felt your high get closer. Until it didn't. The pleasure stopped and he pulled out his fingers from your drenched core.

You let out a noise of disappointment as you looked at your husband with such pleading eyes that it almost made him feel a little bad as he sucked his arousal coated fingers. He held his fingers that were still slightly covered in your arousal up to your lips making you suck on them. He pulled out his fingers, making sure you had licked them clean before instructing you to get his dick out.

Unzipping his pants and reaching for his dick, you felt it against your skin.

Mr. Seo was lifting his shirt above his head when he saw your expression. Priceless.

Your eyes were wide with worry, but your pupils were filled with nothing but desire for him and only him. On top of everything Mr. Seo felt at that moment, he was proud of himself above all things for snatching a wife like you.

He watched you with hooded eyes as you pulled his clothing down, his dick rested on his abdomen. It was long, girthy, and veiny. The red tip was leaking so much precum to the point that it was dripping onto his abs. You rubbed your thighs together and whined a little feeling wetness drip slowly down your thighs. It was as if this was the first time you had seen his dick. You were honestly scared it might split you in half.

"Scared, baby?" Mr. Seo asked, stroking your cheek with his hand. You inhaled before shaking your head, still afraid to look into his eyes. He chuckled, "C'mere, baby" he said breathily, pulling you closer to his hips. You whimpered feeling his tip rub up and down your folds. "Do you wanna cum, angel?" he whispered.

"Y-yes" you replied weakly as he set your back down on the table "I-I do." He smirked, "Yeah?" he said as he grabbed your wrists with one hand, placing them above your head "You do?" You could never reply to him, too engrossed in the pleasure.

You bit your lip, immediately wincing when you had come in contact with a bruise. Mr. Seo noticed but chose not to acknowledge how it made him feel. He grabbed his dick, lining it up with your sopping hole. Mr. Seo moved shoved his dick in slowly, slightly holding his breath, trying not to hurt you. While you on the other hand found that you couldn't breathe properly with tears forming in your eyes, finding Mr. Seo too much for you to bear. You feel your walls painfully, slowly, and harshly stretch to accommodate his dick. He grunts a little, the feeling of your cunt throb around him only added fuel to the fire. "F-fuck yeah. That's it baby, take Daddy's cock. Take all of his fucking dick." he mumbled, observing as he shoved his dick deeper into your pussy. Mr. Seo's grip on your wrists tightened as you squealed out, "Oh, D-Daddy! You...You're too b-big!"

The sweet tone of such a girl like you made blood rush to his already painfully hard cock. His focus went back to the present, he was only halfway in but you felt like you couldn't take it. In an attempt to get some friction, Mr. Seo pulled his dick out entirely only to shove it back inside you causing tears to fall from your pretty face.

You swore you were going to split in half.

He now thrusted in and out of you, his large veins rubbed against your soaked walls. Your nails dug into your skin as your eyes were sealed shut.

"Good girl, taking Daddy's dick like an angel. You can see it in your tummy," He took one good look at you face and tsked "Look at you, a-are you sure you can take me?"

You nodded, "Ah, m-mhm!"

Mr. Seo's dick throbs, listening to your whimpers as he shoved in and out of you. He was one hundred percent sure he was hitting your cervix. He grabbed a hold of your waist, pounding you deeper, faster. It wasn't long before you felt your high. Your mouth formed an 'o' shape while you let out a long drawn out whine that was music to Mr. Seo's ears, boosting his already elated mood. Your pussy fluttered around him as you cried though your orgasm. Moans and sobs for him left your lips as you came harder than you ever have. With your back arching painfully, Mr. Seo found that he wanted more. He needed more. As you were trying to catch your breath, he made you straddle his hips to carry you to your shared room where he set you down with your ass in the air.

Your mind clouded in lust for your husband while he doesn't stop fucking your brains out, you honestly didn't even know or care where you were at this point. "Shit" he chuckles, "Look at this poor little girl" he caressed your ass before landing a loud spank, letting your ass grow red before landing several more making you smile. Mr. Seo pulled your hair from behind, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were clouded with lust, drool was slipping from your mouth, tear stains were so obvious on your face. "Perfect" Mr. Seo mumbled to himself.

You only smiled, not knowing what on earth he said, but knowing what he was going to do with you. "A-Ahh...oh" you whine as he let go of your hair, resting your head on the covers.

Mr. Seo had lost all mercy towards his little wife, using you as his own personal fucktoy. Only his for his amusement only. He used your cunt as if it was only specifically made for his enlarged cock, you swore you were seeing stars. You probably forgot what your name was as all you yelled was "Daddy"

Your walls flutter again around Mr. Seo's dick, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" you moan over and over again, sensing your second orgasm arrive. It arrived as you expected, grabbing onto the bedsheets as he reached for your neck. Your legs begin to quiver as you whine loudly from overstimulation. Mr. Seo bites down on his lower lip, savoring the feeling of how tightly your warm, wet cunt clenched around him. That's when he realized, he needed to cum. Badly.

"Shit" he cursed, grabbing onto your ass to shove his dick farther into you "Daddy's gonna cum so fucking hard for you, baby. He's gonna stuff you so fuckin' well" He hissed followed by a groan as he released strings of his cum inside you making your toes curl. He pulled out, stroking his cock to make sure none of his seed was wasted as the warm liquid landed on your used cunt.

"Fuck" Mr. Seo said under his breath as he bent down to lick up his cum mixed with yours. Sucking down on your oh-so-sensitive bud, you moaned for him to slow down before you came again.

You obviously had a distaste for cumming three times, while Mr. Seo rather preferred you cum as many times as your body omitted you to. "P-please Daddy...don' wanna'...d-don't wanna- Awe, Daddy!!" You had easily cum for a third time making Mr. Seo beam against your cunt.

He pulled you sit up against his chest as he sat against the headboard of the bed, he played with your hair before peppering your shoulders with kisses as he entwined his hand with yours. "Daddy's so proud of you, angel." He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on your finger where you wore your wedding ring.

Smiling at the gesture, you were tracing his veins before falling asleep. Mr. Seo soon noticed and tuned off the light.

You really were his trophy wife.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @fruityutas​ @sunshinedhyuck ​ @minhoney-baby​ @count-your-shadows​ @nctlovesme​ @silverthessalonians

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