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qingxin-dream · 9 months

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“Righteousness”

summary | in another timeline, kunikuzushi never redeemed himself. he took interest in a different kind of heart—not the Gnosis, not a Vision—but yours. (art credits: @/Shiqaruki on twitter).

warnings | lore, kidnapping, kuni calls you ‘little songbird,’ profanity, brief mention of physical abuse, manipulation, praise & degradation, pining, obsessive/possessive, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader (wears a dress & lingerie), dominant kuni, choking, yandere jealousy, murder/arson threats, worship, slapping, finger-fucking, mirror sex, kuni receives oral, deepthroating, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, mention of breeding

genre | yandere, smut with plot, canon-divergent

word count | 4.5k

pairing | kunikuzushi/scaramouche x reader

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In a time all but forgotten, a young boy sat on his knees, caressing a hand-sewn doll in his palms and looking up with childlike compassion to his companion.

“There once was a puppet solider whose greatest wish was to be with a ballerina doll forever and ever,” he began, his eyes reflecting the scene of his storytelling imagination.

He gently squeezed the doll in his hands, as if to comfort his companion before the truth spills from his lips. “But the solider didn’t have a heart and didn’t know where his feelings came from.”

“One day, his owner didn’t want him anymore and threw him away into a fire. But even in the flames, his eyes never left the ballerina,” he continued with a more somber tone, drawing attention to the gut-wrenching ending of a tragic romance.

However, his voice shifted, offering soft words of wisdom and hope to his distraught friend. “The next day, the people found a tiny heart in the ashes left by the fire.”

Instinctively, the beautiful puppet sitting before the young boy curled his lip in disdain. “Probably ashes in the shape of a heart… but that’s not a real heart.”

He could hear the affectionate smile pulling at the corners of the young boy’s mouth. “Maybe, but what if… hearts can be born from ashes?”

“What a joke. It’s just ashes,” the lonesome puppet can barely conjure up a breath in his agony. “Nothing left but ashes.”

As his chest twisted and clenched with the wretched filth of so-called human emotion, the divine puppet came to a profound realization. His body merely served as a hollow shell, cursed by the ghost of mortal weakness—a living testament to the depths of an Archon’s visceral mourning.

In his naïveté, he had trusted the boy he thought to be his friend. He had believed that silly little fairytale, that maybe he wasn’t as empty and worthless as he felt. There was no heart to be found in the cold vessel of a failed god.

Kunikuzushi would have to claim one for himself.

Sin.

The ultimate temptress of mortals. The manifestation of human greed and desire. That which demands repentance and atonement for fear of eternal damnation. It is hinged on the human condition that death is inevitable.

Mortals are easily persuaded by morals and ideology if it means life after death in a paradise that is not guaranteed. Humans create false narratives to exercise the sick satisfaction of controlling one other. When all is said and done, the real struggle is for power—namely the power to control fate itself.

For those who are destined to roam the world with no such motives, imprisoned in an earthly purgatory, sin and salvation are laughable notions.

There is no reason to live, for you cannot die; Sin knows no bounds and comes with no price.

“The sooner you accept this, the better,” Kunikuzushi laments, his face just inches from yours. The bewitching twinkle in his lavender irises has remained all these centuries, a cruel illusion masking the abyss beneath. “Nothing you say will change my decision.”

You were really quite the picture, if he was being honest, all tied up for him. Kunikuzushi loathed that just the sight of you was enough to make the void in his chest cavity ache with longing. A reminder of his imperfection.

Anyone else would have died a violent death for such a transgression. But you presented a unique opportunity.

“Kuni, please,” you whimpered, your pleas falling on deaf ears. On the contrary, he loves hearing your voice, especially when you beg so earnestly. “I-I don’t know what I did wrong… I’m scared. Please, let me go…”

The puppet hushes you lovingly, his lips brushing against your delicate skin toward your ear. “Hey, now. There’s no need for that. You’re safe with me, little songbird.”

You flinch, gasping and recoiling in fear, turning your head away defiantly. It’s not like you could push him away, your little limbs bound to a tall column in the kitchen nice and tight. Hot tears pricked at your eyes. It burns like hell.

“Untie me, Kuni!” you shrieked, squirming and struggling against the binds to no avail.

He snatches your face firmly between his thumb and two fingers, squishing your cheeks to the point you felt pressure on your skull. “Ungrateful slut. Didn’t I explain this to you already? Your heart beats for me from this day forward.”

Frozen in shock, your body stiffens involuntarily as fear floods your veins, rendering you utterly helpless. Even as he gazed upon you with an icy, detached stare, you couldn’t find it within yourself to fault Kuni for this act of desperation. He could never make sense of himself and the pain that came with betrayal after betrayal.

Why even try to embrace humanity if it would mercilessly punish you for not having a heart?

You still remember the day you found him, it was but a coincidence you both crossed paths. Kuni was a wandering traveler, or at least that’s how he introduced himself. He seemed kind enough. You were particularly taken by his appearance, so lovely it was almost inhuman.

It just so happened that you were willing to offer him a place to stay. It took a bit of convincing on your part, actually, but you were worried about the string of murders near your village recently. Someone must have had an insatiable vendetta against the blade-smithing arts, striking them down one by one.

A small knowing smile pulled at his lips, his eyes creasing slightly with amusement as he marveled at how you opened yourself up so easily. This was the first time he had talked to a human in who knows how long. Perhaps since the young boy’s passing many dreadful seasons ago.

Kuni found the void in his chest persuading him to entertain his curiosity about you.

He had to admit, once you both got to know each other, it was quite the impeccable arrangement. During the day, you provided the kind of mundane tranquility and domesticity he had always dreamed of. Thankfully, your residence was in a rural part of the countryside, which offered much appreciated security and seclusion from the world.

Once you were safely tucked into bed and sound asleep, he would lie restlessly in the guest room. Puppets have no need for sleep. On some lonely moonlit nights, he would entertain his own fantasies of you. In the absence of such desires, he was compelled to satisfy his blood thirst.

Though Kuni had long forsaken the human emotions that afflicted his existence with disappointment and abandonment, his burgeoning relationship with you had quickly proven to be the last remaining vestige of his innocent supplication for a purpose.

In fact, he demanded it, after witnessing you day in and day out slipping from his grasp. He was growing impatient, waiting for something more. You had always stopped short of taking a little leap of faith to hold his hand or kiss his forehead, leaving him yearning for your touch and attention. Why?

Even in your presence, he was not alleviated of his turmoil. A number of possibilities plagued him. Were you dissuaded by his artificial constitution? Did he make a fatal miscalculation? God forbid, was there someone else?

No matter how many times he twisted, folded, and bent reality in his mind, trying to make sense of you, he never came to an agreeable conclusion. By the time Kuni realized just how deep you had nestled yourself into the empty husk of his heart, it was too late for the both of you.

All of this mental anguish and pining was unbearable. Unacceptable. He loved you, yes, but needed you more.

The puppet’s chest fluttered as you willingly complied, tears staining your cheeks, but that’s okay. His soft pink lips brushed against your cheek once more, kissing away your precious tears. It was his first taste of you.

Kuni cradled you in his palms like a delicate doll, his thumbs ghosting your cheeks. He leaned in closer, indigo bangs tickling your face and his mouth parted with a breathless question. “Is your heart… truly mine?”

He had broken you, and you had no choice but to nod slowly.

“Say it for me, little songbird,” he encourages you with a warm intonation. His eyes were trained on your lips.

“I-I’m yours,” you replied weakly.

No sooner than you could speak were his plush lips pressed to yours, a breathy hum of relief exhaling through his nose. In turn, you muffled a whimper, overwhelmed by the sensation. He had untied you, knowing you couldn’t hurt him but he could certainly hurt you.

Kuni was gentle at first, relishing in his first kiss with you. He carefully took your wrists to guide your hands to his body, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you against him. Still, you trembled in his grasp.

“There’s no need to fear,” he whispers between kisses, holding your face to his. “I will take care of you.”

He can’t bear to leave your lips. Guiding you towards him, he leans against the kitchen counter and tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. A small prayer barely escapes his lips. “(Y/N), hold me… touch me… please.”

“Kuni,” you choke out, tears forming in the corner of your eyes again. You are silenced with increasingly fervent kisses, one of his hands trailing down to your neck just by his fingertips, giving you goosebumps in the wake of his featherlight touch.

“You are going to give yourself to me. Your heart is my heart, and I will not have you hiding any part of yourself from me,” his voice grows a bit more insistent, closing his fingers around your throat as a threat, but not yet squeezing. “Do you understand?”

You give a feeble nod, unable to look at him directly. Every time your gaze locked with his, it sent a pang of terror jolting through your fragile body. He brings you closer by your neck, kissing you with more confidence than before. There is a little part of you that is worried you are unable to discern fear from excitement.

The puppet lets his hand slip further, fingertips finding the contour of your chest. He hesitates briefly, then allows his palm to feel your plump breast. The act was enough to elicit a little whine from you, and he knew right then and there that he had to hear it again.

“Do you… have any inclination of how long I waited for you?” he whispers hotly onto your lips, feeling down your waist at an excruciatingly slow pace. He smoothed each wrinkle of your dress with his thumb, tracing the silhouette of your figure down until he felt the hem of your underwear through the thin fabric. His breath caught.

You were still not as receptive to his advances as he would like, and suddenly he scoops you up to hook your legs around his hips, pressing your back against the nearest wall in the hallway. Kuni was beginning to reveal his desperation for you in more ways than one, breathing a little heavier. He was determined to have you submit to him and if you weren’t responsive to his soft side, then so be it.

“Answer me,” Kuni lowers his voice with a commanding edge, his lips just inches from your neck while his messy indigo bangs tickled your jaw. You whimpered, involuntarily moving your hips against him at the mere thought of his mouth on you.

At long last, you found your voice—delicate and decadent with a tinge of spine-prickling anticipation. Perhaps you had lost part of yourself, your humanity, in him too. “H-how long, Kuni?”

You shivered slightly, feeling his mouth spread into a satisfied smile against the sensitive skin of your neck. His voice deepens further, sultry and needy, “Lifetimes… I’ve been so goddamn purposeless for too many fucking lifetimes, just waiting for you.”

Without warning, the touch-starved puppet sunk his teeth into the crevice of your shoulder at the base of your throat, sucking at the weak spot to bruise the skin with his mark. A surprised yelp fell from your mouth, and you so nicely turned your head to offer him more. He clutched your curves tightly, as if he was secretly wishing your bodies would just melt into each other.

Ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum…

Your precious heartbeat echoed through his chambers of his chest. Kuni craved that little pulse of yours, chasing it up your neck in heated, sloppy kisses. All the while, you encouraged him with sweet little sounds of pleasure, softly asking for more under your breath.

“It’s mine,” he reiterated, perhaps to help immortalize the sensation against his lips. With a faint growl and yet another love bite, he added, “You’re fucking mine, you hear me?”

If only he could be bothered to pull back and catch a glimpse of how the puppet had unraveled you beyond recognition, equally as intoxicated by the heat of the moment. No matter. He will have his fill of you in due time.

“Y-yours, mhmm,” you capture his wet lips halfway, experimentally swirling your tongue with his passionately. You were clinging onto his shoulders, entangling your fingers in the soft ends of his pretty hair resting on the back of his neck.

With a faint moan against your mouth, Kuni lifted you once more by slipping his hands under your dress to feel his digits press into the soft flesh of your ass. It was light work to carry you, giving him the opportunity to squeeze and smack your ass with a smirk.

Slipping into your bedroom, he set you down and turned you around by your hips so that you were facing the tall mirror just a few feet away from the mattress. He leans over your shoulder from behind and you blush heavily at the image reflected by the mirror. Both of his beautiful hands traveled up your body simultaneously, one feeling your stomach, ribs, breast, and resting around the bottom of your throat.

The other, however, caught the frilly ends of your dress, sliding it up your skin at a painstakingly slow rate. Kuni’s violet irises shimmered with obsessive desire, admiring every inch of your body that was exposed to him. He bunches the dress in his fist as he raises it above your hips, revealing the most angelic lacy undergarments accented with cute little ballerina pink ribbons. Kuni chuckled, his breath tickling your neck.

“Do me a favor, darling,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly. He takes his time to unveil your breasts, each one perfectly shaped with lovely nipples begging to be pinched. “Open your mouth.”

You comply, watching yourself in the mirror with curious fascination, before Kuni stuffs the thin, light fabric of your dress into your mouth. He nibbles your ear playfully. “Hold that for me.”

His eyes marvel at your body. If you told him you were a goddess, he would believe you without hesitation. Divine or not, the puppet was hell-bent on worshipping you like he had been dreaming of. Kuni played with the intricate lace of your snow white lingerie, his thumb brushing your pelvis teasingly.

Instead, he takes two fingers and caresses your folds outside of the undergarment, pleased to feel your panties dampened with excitement. You quiver at the touch, moaning faintly. Kuni is enthralled by the sweet noise, taking the tiny lingerie by his thumbs and sweeping it down your pretty legs.

He immediately sits down on the edge of the bed, quickly pulling you into his lap and spreading your legs apart with his knees. There it was in the mirror. Your glistening flower framed with the loveliest soft petals.

Kuni couldn’t possibly restrain himself when you were presented so exquisitely, wasting no time to slide his fingers over your pussy. You groaned in pleasure, muffled by the dress in your mouth, relaxing against his chest as the puppet focused on rubbing circles around your clit. He kissed your neck and shoulders endlessly, admiring your reactions in the mirror and whispering lowly, “So good for me. So, so good for me, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”

Your thighs trembled. You desperately wanted to close your legs as his movements became faster on your clit, the stimulation swiftly overcoming you. Breathy moans soon evolved into incoherent pleas. Kuni held you steadfast with his legs, keeping you spread all nice, admiring how you twitched beneath him.

“What did I tell you?” his tone is one of warning, groping your right breast and littering your skin with a few more marks. “There are consequences to hiding yourself from me.”

The puppet suddenly swipes his middle finger over your leaking hole—causing you to moan lewdly—before slapping your pussy. It was a light but firm slap, sending an addicting concoction of both pain and pleasure through you.

After a brief moment, he returns to your folds to trace and admire it, then continuing his ministrations on your clit. Occasionally Kuni would let a finger slip to tease your entrance, finding that it drove you crazy.

“P-please, please, Kuni,” your words quivered like your body, bending easily to the pleasure he was so kindly bestowing you. It had to have been the hundredth small cry for relief tumbling from your throat, you were on the precipice of your climax. “I-I need it. Something, anything… fuck me.”

“You better not cum on my fingers,” the puppet orders, gathering your slick and gently inserting two fingers into your warm walls. You whined in frustrated pleasure as he stretched you slightly, pumping his digits in and out of you barely an inch but keeping you stuffed.

“I c-can’t, I’m…” you babble. Kuni knew you were on the brink already, but he wanted to at least try to prepare you for his cock. He suddenly pulls his fingers out, and with it escapes your climax. Tears were almost pricking your eyes. You could definitely feel them beneath the surface.

He slaps your pussy again as punishment for not listening to his commands. “Greedy sluts are not rewarded.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble and he grunts, pushing you off of him and to your knees in front of the bed. Kuni makes quick work of his clothes, tossing his shirt aside and pulling his pants down enough to spring his throbbing cock free. You had certainly felt his hard length while you were in his lap, but seeing it rendered you speechless.

No different from the rest of the puppet’s beautiful body, Kuni’s cock was perfect. A few veins wrapped around his hard member, bulging under the flesh. Towards the tip, it was gradually flushed pink with hot need, a pearl of precum on his slit. You took him in your hand, butterflies swarming your stomach with the realization that he had more girth than you expected.

Kuni grabbed a fistful of your hair and shoved your face toward his cock with a simple demand. “Suck.”

You experimentally drag your tongue underneath his cock, licking your lips, and working your mouth on his tip to lubricate him first. Kuni’s eyes roll in the back of his head, resting one hand behind him on the bed as he moans deeply. “Fuck, (Y/N)…”

The sensation of you smiling with his cock in your mouth sent warmth through him. You eagerly fit more of him in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue just the way he likes it when you received praise. Yet, Kuni needed more.

“You can do better than that,” he scoffed.

His grip on your hair tightened, pushing your throat completely down on his cock just to feel it once. The puppet twitched in your throat, letting out a seductive growl of pleasure. You gagged slightly, before pulling back with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You coughed a little, but he cupped your chin and wiped it from your mouth sweetly.

“That’s my girl,” Kuni coos, guiding you up on the bed next to him and pushing you down onto your back. As much as he’d love to see you taking him in your mouth all evening, he had a prize more tantalizing waiting for him. Clothes on the floor, moonlight pouring over you both, the puppet vowed to never forget how you mewled as he dragged the pulsing tip of his cock along your wet folds.

Gasping, you achingly bucked your hips in tandem, utterly drunk on the delicious sensation of his thick length parting your pussy lips. You loved to be teased, that much was for sure and Kuni ate it up—the desperate crinkle of your brow in pleasure and how your breath became short.

He presses his tip at your warm hole, but never pushes it in.

You groan dramatically, sweat already forming on your forehead and you haven’t even began. Every bit of pressure he applies has you smitten, imagining the moment he finally fills you. “K-Kuni…”

The smug puppet smirks down at you knowingly, grinding his cock against you repeatedly, rubbing your clit just right. “Yes, my little songbird? Have something to say?”

Before you can speak, he kisses you to muffle your answer. You grow even more impatient, using your legs to keep his hips locked close to yours. Kuni peppers your jawline and neck with kisses and little playful licks of his tongue. “I’m listening.”

“Please,” you beg.

Kuni’s tone is unreadable. “Please what? Use your words.”

You give him a flustered look of desperation and he pins your hands on either side of your head, interlacing your fingers with his. You reply, biting your lower lip, “Fuck m-me, Kuni.”

A smile graces his face and his eyes soften, thumbs caressing your hand comfortingly to brace you for his length. “Is this… your first time, (Y/N)?”

Though you were a shy and kindhearted person, he should’ve known from the way you deepthroated his cock earlier that it wasn’t your first. He wasn’t your first. That means someone else was. Someone else defiled you.

Kuni’s electric purple eyes darkened like an impending storm as you shook your head.

“Indulge me,” the puppet asks. “What other men have been in my position?”

You are not in the right state of mind, still insatiably yearning for your climax and grinding your wet folds on his length. However, Kuni doesn’t accept your nonsensical mumblings and half-answers. His hands tighten around yours, pushing his cock into you with a guttural moan inch by inch until he bottoms out completely.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sputter out, sighing in sweet relief and a bit of pain. Your pussy is filled to the brim with his cock, stretching you out good. You try to turn your head away and close your eyes, but Kuni refuses to let you.

“That’s right,” Kuni’s voice is nothing short of alluring in the most raw way possible. “Treat me like your god and fucking look at me while you take my cock.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t also utterly euphoric as he sinks his large member into your tight walls. Gritting his teeth, he’s taken aback by how you squeeze him unknowingly, even your subconscious is unable to deny the pleasure he’s giving you. It took you a few seconds to adjust to his girth, your eyes drifting down his muscular chest and toned abdomen in admiration.

With the first drag of his cock out of you to his tip, hushed hum of pleasures are murmured by each of you, until he buries himself all the way back into you. Kuni continues in this rhythm with a few thrusts, unable to his stifle his own moans. He was no better, his climax already building within.

Pulling back, the puppet releases your hands to push your legs against your chest by your thighs to get just the right angle and perfect view of your folds. He hovers above you, fucking just his hot bulbous tip into your needy hole. In mere seconds, you cursed to yourself at how good it felt when he brushed against your sensitive entrance.

Your clit pulsated for attention. How could he not press his palm onto your pelvis and drag his thumb across the slightly swollen bud? His half-thrusts became shakier as you unexpectedly tightened around his cock—moans freely and loudly erupting from your throat. The feeling was beyond exhilarating and convinced him to push you to your limits.

“You think I’m going to let any other man put his hands on you like this?” Kuni sneers with jealous envy reflecting in his irises. “I’ll fucking snap his neck. I’d kill him.”

Impulsively, the obsessed puppet roughly plunges his entire cock into your soft pussy. He relishes in your loud moan of shock at the pleasure and slight discomfort in splitting you wide open. His cock pushes against that wonderful spot deep inside you, incredibly sensitive after all his torturous teasing. You were seeing more than stars.

“I bet they couldn’t fuck you like I can,” he scoffs, possessively pulling your closer by your legs and holding your ankles on his shoulders as he fucks you mercilessly. “Make you scream like I can. And—nghh—breed you.”

You were finer than a work of art, truly, in all your fucked-out glory as you chase your high on his thick cock. His thumb flitting over your clit messily, primal groans of bliss echoing throughout the bedroom at every divine flutter of your pussy milking his cock so well. Your words were simply unintelligible, mumbling breathy prayers wishing for his seed.

“No one can take you away from me,” Kuni himself is beginning to tremble with pleasure, but nevertheless he keeps up his brutal pace. Every crevice of your walls and your womb will know his essence. “You’re mine, and I’ll burn the whole damn world for you if that’s what it takes.”

In a rush of jealous envy at the mere thought of losing you, the puppet abruptly pushes your legs back onto your beautiful breasts by his chest. The erotic melody of your fluids coating the base of his cock and v-line with every sloppy thrust pushes you both over the edge of an impossible free fall of euphoria.

“Cum on me, (Y/N). C’mon, cum all over my fucking cock,” Kuni demands with salacious desperation, pounding into you again and again until you’ve ridden out every second of your climax. The sensation is indescribable as he swears he could feel your rapid heartbeat through your walls—your heartbeat in his hands like he’s the supreme god of your body.

And as such, he blesses you with ropes of hot cum to drown your pussy in his everlasting love. Kuni collapses and cradles you, wiping the tears of pleasure from your sweet, angelic cheeks.

Righteousness means nothing to gods, for whom salvation is too late and sin knows no price.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist

#IDK WHERE 4.5K CAME FROM I JUST REALLY LIKE SCARA OKAY😩💜#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fatui #genshin scaramouche #genshin kunikuzushi #genshin wanderer #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut

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ego-meliorem-esse · 8 months

Text

July 13th, 1917

Be it from a sense of paternal concern or simply patriotic duty, Arthur made sure to leave his soldiers in the charge of an older Corporal and made his way to the quite pathetic excuse of a medical section where his son was left to rot.

Arthur had heard about the attack. He had been informed the day prior.

He had seen war and famine and sickness, but never like this. Arthur wasn't young, in any sense, and what wonders and strong political oppinions young men had, had left him a long time ago like a ship leaving the harbour in a hury to claim new land. This though, had left shock echoing within his tired, millenia old frame. He wasn't used to this.

Arthur made his way through the trenches with soldiers from every corner of the globe instantly stopping whatever they were doing prior and saluting him as if etiquette and rank mattered in hell. As if it was more importaint to greet the Higher ups than to survive long enough to even write a letter back to family. Arthur did understand that though. Routine and rules were the only thing keeping these poor and wretched souls from being consumed by thoughts of an imminent death.

The path to the section where Matthew was held was quite straightforward and quite familiar. He had marched to and from it hundreds of times and had a sort of automatic rithm in his step. Arthur made his way to the small and damp room with a fast pace indicative of familiarity, only to stop in his tracks in the shabbily built doorframe at the sight that awaited him in the corner.

Matthew sat in the corner of the sad makeshift medical section of the trenches, his back firm against the cold, damp wall.

His once-piercing blue-grey eyes were now clouded over with milky white cataracts, rendering him completely blind. The newly used gas had stolen his sight. His skin, once tanned and healthy, now bore the sickly pallor of a much older man who had endured unimaginable suffering.

Matthew's uniform, discarded in favour of his worn down undershirt, was now a tattered and stained relic of his time in the trenches. The not-white-anymore shirt clung to his emaciated frame as if decency still mattered in hell. The physical toll of the war was clear on his body. Not that Matthew would have to worry about seeing that any time soon. His hands, which had once held a rifle with resolve, now trembled even while resting on his thighs.

Despite his physical and emotional anguish, Matthew remained seated upright, his back pressed against the unforgiving, stained wall. A testament to his resilience if there was any left, a silent protest against the horrors that had taken his sight and left him broken in body and spirit.

As he sat there, his spirit reduced to a hollow shell, Matthew's face bore a mixed expression of utter defeat and complete indifference. His lips were drawn into a thin, lifeless line, and his cheeks were gaunt from the weight of his suffering. His blank, unseeing eyes stared into the abyss, as if waiting for answers and also hoping they'd never arrive.

In that moment, Matthew was not a representation of Canada; he was a young man who had been scarred and broken by the senseless brutality of war. The trenches around him buzzed with activity, but he remained isolated in his silent world of darkness and despair. The young medics job was done. He had patched Matthew up and left him to his own misery. Matthew was grateful.

Arthur stood there silently under the doorframe for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few seconds. A strange and unfamiliar twinge of emotion plucked and pulled on his conscience. He hadn't felt guilt in quite some time. This feeling was reserved for drunken nights spent in solitude with the doors to the room he resided in firmly locked so that his sliver of self-deprecating emotion wasn't witnessed by any but himself, while he drunk himself to unconsciousness.

He preferred the emotional solitude to this.

Arthur had believed himself to be capable of most things. Especially conversation and confrontation. He was quite good at those as centuries of existence had proved. He believed himself quite skilful with words. Most of the time he knew what to say and when to say it without it resulting in unwanted and unforeseen consequences, while still making sure his opinion was heard.

Arthur had no words forming as he stood in that doorframe. If Arthur was a good man, his reasoning would be that he felt such strong empathy and sadness that words wouldn't be enough to express the sorrow he felt at that moment. If Arthur was a good man he'd run to his son, assure him that this wouldn't happen ever again and that he was safe. If Arthur was a good man he would fall on his knees in front of his oldest son and beg for forgiveness.

Arthur wasn't a good man.

He could admit to his shortcomings, but to act on them was not in his nature.

So he stood there for another 5 or 6 minutes watching his son shallowly breathe in and out, hearing the boys lungs struggle to keep up with his muscles contraction and need for air.

He must have made a noise, as Matthew's head tilted slightly to the left, almost looking at Arthur but definitely not seeing him. Arthur looked back at him.

The room was quiet, save for the desperate plea of Matthews lungs to be put out of their misery.

Sensing nothing after a few moments, Matthew turned his head back towards the blank wall ahead.

Arthur silently turned his frame around and slowly started walking the path he had taken to get here. As he took a few steps, he released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

How he longed for that whiskey bottle and that dark room where he could lock himself in and slowly drift out of consciousness instead of facing his own mistakes.

Arthur definitely was not a good man.

#ooof i had a field day with this one #father son drama ugh sighn me the fuck up #arthur is def not a good man im sorry to the england stans but he isnt #he lives his kids but he is not a good man #he would take a bullet for his kids bur he is not a good man #hetalia #hws england #hws canada #myart #my art #historical hetalia #my writing #arthur kirkland #matthew williams #hetalia fanfiction

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pandoraslxna · 13 days

Note

📝forbidden romance Neteyam X omitikaya fem lover

Neteyam x female omatikaya reader, minors dni 🔞

It feels better when it’s wrong. When it’s with someone you’re not meant to be with.

"How long do we have?” Neteyam asks, letting you pull him behind a tree a little far off the village. Not much, though, just enough to be out of view.

He watches your face go from smug to flustered as your knees hit the forest floor, shifting to sit back on your haunches. "I’m meant to be at a clans meeting with the eldest, you know? My father is already waiting for me," he reminds you, a smirk pulling at his lips. "And your father will be there as well, wondering where the olo’eyktans second of command is and why he‘s running late. Again."

"Probably…," you start, and then bite your lip when you pull down his loincloth just enough, exposing his already hard cock to the air. "Probably five minutes," you grin up at him.

"Five minutes?" He chuckles, but then you curl your tongue out to taste the underside of Neteyams cock, making it bob before you take it in hand and stroke down his length and- yeah, yeah you can probably make him finish in just five minutes.

You dip your head and close your lips over it then, taking in as much as you can on a single stroke and pulling back, sucking in hard until you feel your cheeks hollow with the force of it. Neteyam lets out a strangled groan, and suddenly there’s wetness pooling between your thighs like a river. He’ll take care of that later, you know it. There’s just no time for it now.

Passing your tongue over the slit in the head of his cock, you taste the salty bubble of pre-cum that rises there, and your fingers work over the wetness from your own mouth, dragging them over the stretch of skin your lips can’t quite reach.

"Eywa, woman", Neteyam pants, throwing his head back in bliss.

You pull off for a moment then, thread of pre-cum still joining your lips to him.

"Maybe a minute more?" You guess with a teasing giggle, licking your lips, and when Neteyams only reply is a long, low moan of "fuck, no, I’m about to come", you quickly take him in again, head bobbing quickly, tongue swirling and pushing up on his sensitive spots.

Neteyam bucks his hips hard, gasping, looking down as you take him in deep, then pulling back out, and another droplet of pre-cum springs from his cock for you to kiss and lick away.

"Tanhì [little star]," Neteyam warns, hands finding the roots of your hair to gently tug as you part your lips over him again.

If you shift your hips just right you can feel the seam of your loincloth rub against your clit, so you do just that- moaning around him, closing your eyes and trying for one last push, sinking down, down, pressing against him with your tongue and Neteyam lets out a deep groan, jerks his hips a bit and holds your head still as he spills warm and bitter over your tongue.

You finally pull back when the tension in Neteyams thighs releases, and swallows, wiping your fingers around the outline of your swollen lips to catch any stray wetness. Looking up, you’re met with his dazed expression, pupils blown wide, with sweat beading at his forehead, and entirely spent from this race-like run of an orgasm.

"You good?", you ask in amusement as you raise to your feet, but all that comes as a response is a, "Hmh", before he pulls you flush against against him. You feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear as he kisses his way down from there to your throat.

"You’re already running late, chief‘s son," you giggle, moaning softly once his hand finds the path between your thighs. "What will your father think, hm?" You purr teasingly.

With a rumble of disapproval coming from deep within his chest, Neteyam then manages to detach his lips from your wonderfully soft skin.

"Fine," he sighs defeated, before pulling up his loincloth. It’s when you’re about to walk away from the scene, that he grabs your upper arm and spins you around, backing you up against the tree with a hand next to your head, while the other tips your chin up. "But I will return the favor tonight, paskalin [honey]."

You send him a sheepish little smile, cocking your head to the side as you inform him, "not happening. My father will be home tonight, skxawng [moron/idiot]."

Neteyam holds your gaze for a long moment, his grin spreading impossibly wide, until his fangs come into view, sharp tongue licking over pearly whites before he chuckles, "not anymore." Your brows raise at that. "The olo’eyktans second of command has just informed me that your father will be out on patrol tonight. What a coincidence, hm?"

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rosegasly · 9 months

Text

Lavender Haze.

⇢ summary: “I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?” ⇢ genre: tipsy & risqué ⇢ pairing: max verstappen x best friend reader ⇢ a/n: taylor inspires all my titles i'm a basic bitch like that

You should know by now that you are terrible with alcohol after one too many puking sessions and horrible hangovers. Still, when Max—your reigning best friend, now world champion—crossed the checkered flag in Abu Dhabi, there was no other way the night was going to end.

Feeling the burn of bile creep up your throat again, you push forward on your knees, clutching the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl with all your might as you throw up what feels like days worth of food.

The cool touch of said best friend’s hand rubbing soothing circles across your back is as much a relief against your scorching hot skin as a knife moulded with thick, unadulterated guilt that is digging into the gaps of your rib the longer you are awake and thinking. His other hand busy holding your hair back over your head. While your thoughts aren’t entirely coherent, the fact that you are ruining what is probably Max’s best night yet isn’t exactly lost on you either.

Tears sting your eyes as your stomach finally settles, only a hollow sinking feeling where there was once turbulence, and you can’t decipher if it’s the lack of food or the drunk realisation of what a shitty friend you make at the moment.

“i am sorry,” the apology comes out meek, liquid pooling into your eyes and blurring your vision.

“Schatje,” his voice is every bit the affection, love and exasperation that you don’t deserve and you tuck your face away between the protective curl of your arms over the toilet bowl. If you were a little less drunk, maybe you’d be disgusted, but all you want to do right now is hide away so you can’t see the forgiveness swimming in his gaze.

“You trying to hide the running mascara? Come on, you know you can do worse,” Max teases and the sound coming out of you is equal parts sob and snort.

Strong arms curl across your chest, resting slightly above your breasts and your heart goes into overdrive as you sit there torn between feeling grounded by his presence and your stupid crush rearing its head again to mess with you. “You gonna come out of the toilet bowl anytime soon?”

His breath tickles the shell of your ear as his chin finds home on the curve where your neck meets your shoulder and you can’t hold back the shiver that races through you at the warm sensation.

With a firm tug he pulls you back, your head lolling to the side of his chest and burying itself in his warmth and safety.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Another steady pull and he has you on your feet, guiding you to the sink nearby. The angle of your neck turns awkward as you wrap your arms around his waist, face still nuzzled against his signature white tee secured tight between the clench of your fingers.

Touch as gentle as it can be, he holds your chin, tilting your face towards the basin and you wordlessly turn the tap on. You are half tempted to drink the water but stop yourself from following through on that urge, gargling and washing the acidity from your mouth instead.

The angel of a man you blessedly call your best friend drags your ass out, giving you bottled water which you finally gulp down like the parched woman you are. Sated and no longer reeking of bile, you nuzzle back into Max’s chest, half-formed apologies spilling from you in an endless stream.

He keeps quiet, allowing you time to let things off your chest. After years of being there through the others most vulnerable, he knows you better than he does himself and as much as the sight of your pink, blotchy cheeks and drunken apologies makes his chest tight, he realises how much you need it. The weight of unsaid words always weighs heavy on your shoulders, and he has never cut you off when you open up. Instead, choosing to console and talk through those thoughts after.

What seems like hours, but is probably only minutes later you finally bring yourself to move away from his chest, the death grip you had on his shirt loosening enough to allow you to look up.

In the club’s dim lighting, out of focus, eye to eye, crystal blue spilling into the dark of your eyes, your grip on reality slips a little more.

“I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?”

Dark lashes shutter your view of the endless blue as Max blinks, a little taken aback before a smile breaks out. Rosey lips and pinker cheeks and the faint dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose and high of his cheeks. It’s him. With every breath, you breathe him. Amidst all the cigarette smoke and stale of old carpet under your foot and the sweat in the air; all you register now is him. Max. Your best friend. The one person you would give up everything for, knowing he would do the same.

“Go ahead. Touch me.” You can’t tell if his voice has gone lower, deeper, or if you have just pressed yourself too close to him. The vibrations from his chest travelling to you through yours from where they are against each other, not a hair’s breadth of space in between as you near. The lines between close and too close blurring in your inebriated state of mind.

The last thing you see before your eyes fall shut is the blue of his. Cerulean and crystal, the faintest blue in the light, edges coloured a dark green in the shadows and its endless. Their depth, his gaze, the twin pounding of both your hearts, the heavy breaths and the sweat from the humid club over your skins.

His lips are every bit as soft as you had imagined them to be. Sweet like your most beloved candy, light as a feather as they brush against you. Hesitant, then sure. Worried for what could be lost but realising what could be gained. Gentle, then a little more forceful as your back slams against the wall and you groan.

It’s relief. It’s desperation. The way you have starved to touch him, have him feel you. Breathe in his exhales; let them become one in you to make them yours. Kissing him to mark him yours, having him in your arms and knowing you could never let go.

He grinds into you and it’s dirty and messy, more the high of your hip bones and the thick of his jeans than anything else, but his fingers still dig into the curve of your waist almost painfully. His ragged breath making you shiver when his nose grazes your skin and you hear more so than feel him inhale your scent.

He bites your lip and licks it better. You tug his hair, then caress his face.

It’s sexual and innocent and when its finally too much and you can no longer hold your collective breaths, you smile instead. Your lips curled into a smile over his grin and it’s suddenly okay. Everything the night has been and every sleepless night that you two have spent tormented over unreciprocated feelings leading up to it.

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mitsvriii · 20 days

Text

self-talks

・❥・aventurine x reader

★ wc: 730+ノ★ no reader type or pronouns used or specifiedノ ★ cw: aventurine is his #1 hater, mentioned death/ways to die, set during 2.1 quest, written by a mentally-tired high schooler, lowercase intended, lazily proofreadノ★ no summary for this one, notes at the endノ★ if you get what’s happening i’ll give you a cupcake

“[name] doesn’t really love you, y’know.”

that voice. the same, agonizing tone that held itself high as if the owner knew every secret in the world. how aventurine hated how it followed him like an ant and he was a basket filled to the brim with succulent insecurities - as if they themselves were ripe, appetizing pieces of fruit.

the tinted shadow, or should he say figured, of himself wouldn’t stop drilling those words into his head. aventurine tried to prevent the words from bothering him but he couldn’t shake them. it was agonizing having to hear his ‘future self’ talk about you as if you thought he was the last pawn left in a chess game, waiting to be used for the greater good.

“that’s not true.”

because he knew you. then again so did he. future is often wiser than present but if that’s the case then why did he feel anxious at his words?

shaking his head like a parent who caught onto their child’s lie, the ‘shadow’ tsked in mock disappointment. “honestly, i thought you were self-aware of the majority of one’s actions. are you so blinded by the scorching love that [name] provides that you cannot even see that you’re burning?”

he wasn’t burning, and you weren’t so bright that he wouldn’t be able to see anything else besides you, either. it was infuriating how this version of him - more of a shell than aventurine was in the present time, hollowed out and left to rot on a tree branch of desolation - seemed to believe that he was wiser than him about the love of their? his life.

aventurine was as loyal as he could be to you without pushing past his boundaries (which were often as weak as a dam made out of twigs when it came to you). he could say the same about you, the absolute truth to anyone but him. bringing a hand up to his hair aventurine scratched it roughly in discomforting thought. all of this ‘he said, he says’ was making him go crazy.

or crazier than he already is in this deforming dreamscape of twisted memories and second-takes. if he ever gets out of this ‘living nightmare’, the first thing he’s going to do is charge up to veritas and-

“i wonder if [name’s] flocked to ratio yet. clutching onto him as soft weeps leave puffy eyes.”

okay, buddy.

“what’s your deal?” aventurine hissed at the amusement drawn on his face, covered hands digging crescent shapes into his gloves. “you seem so adamant in getting me to believe [name] doesn’t love me, yet i’ll probably never-“ cutting himself off with a quick bite down on his tongue, letting it go swiftly when metallic laced his taste.

he couldn’t think like that. that anxious feeling that sunk into his stomach as if it were made of quicksand tried to open and claw its way out of him.

if aventurine could not ever see your face or hear the voice (that he wanted to put on a record and play it repetitively), he feels as if he would rip out all of his hair that you adored combing your fingers through, floss it through his teeth, tie it up, and ha-

a shaky exhale, “there’s a high chance i’ll never see [name] again, so what’s the point of getting me to openly despise everything that pertains to…what’s the point?”

he only smirked in response, the expression on his face was akin to looking in a mirror of opposition to aventurine’s own. he hated how he looked.

oh. so that’s it, huh? could it be that his ‘future’ version seemed to be nothing more than what aventurine himself already imagine what his future would be like, was that it? whom was molded with clay laced with nothing but pure self-hatred without you being there to swat them away.

inhaling sharply, pain shot up through aventurine’s head as he doubled over. he clutched his head and gritted his teeth as if he had a severe brain-freeze, shaking it as he stomped a foot to the ground as if he were in a tantrum. in all honesty, he looked like he was.

puffs of frustration left him as he glanced up, eyes meeting his own heavy, irritated ones as he stared into them with ferocity. “oh aventurine”, he spoke to himself as he blinked away.

“you’ve got to stop talking in mirrors.”

me if writing bad characterization for my fics was hilarious 😹😹😹 seriously though i need to character study him more. take this while i go cry into my pillow over exams 🙏 this didn’t go as i originally had in mind but we ball!!! i hope this flops harder than a fish on a deck after it has just been caught i hate it sm

#—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#🍙 - honkai star rail writings #aventurine x reader #looking at it now idk if “x reader” + “x you” is rly for it buttt #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine #aventurine hsr

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mumms-the-word · 2 months

Text

Choosing to Live

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Shortly after Gale decides to defy his goddess and not self-destruct in the caverns below Moonrise Towers, you turn and see him struggling with the conflicting emotional fallout of his decision. CW: death, suicidal ideation, panic attacks, survivor's guilt (implied), coercion (implied) A/N: I was inspired by @gangstagandalf's emotional fanart of Gale and Tav just after Moonrise. It's not quite the same scene as their art but I just couldn't resist writing my own angst version. Check them out, their art is lovely! @gangstagandalf I hope you don't mind if I borrowed a few of your lines from your original post! (Pic is of my tav Dani because that’s all I got) UPDATE: Now on AO3 woooo

You watch as the husk of Ketheric Thorm collapses at your feet, a hollow shell of dessicated flesh and heavy armor. You’ve done it at last—you’ve defeated the Bone Lord’s Chosen, the first of three enemies who have enslaved an Elder Brain through the power of some sort of crown it bears.

At the thought of the crown, you turn your head, seeking out the person who had first pointed out the crown to you. It was the thing that seemed to wake him from his reluctant obedience to his goddess’s command. There had been hunger in his eyes, more than you’d ever seen in him before, and for a brief moment you had thought yourself and him safe from the commands of the goddess of magic and mysteries.

But then he’d steeled himself. You’d watched as he physically and mentally struggled with the weight of the goddess’s demands, preparing himself for what he thought was inevitable.

Death. Destruction. Catastrophe. But one that would supposedly thwart mass enslavement at the whims of an elder brain and three evil Chosen. A noble sacrifice, but one that would kill dozens of innocent lives, too.

You don’t remember what all you said in those panicked seconds between him making his decision and you being dragged into a battle against Ketheric. You recall, vaguely, that you had clutched his robe in your hands and told him you loved him. There had been other words, too, but they were lost to your memory. Whatever it was, it had been enough. Because as of this moment, the elder brain has disappeared, Ketheric is dead, and you are not.

Your eyes find him, your love, your Gale, standing on a far platform where he had climbed to better aim and prepare his spells. He stands, leaning against his staff, panting, staring at the lifeless and inert body of Ketheric at your feet, and then his gaze shifts to you. You, covered in your blood and Ketheric’s black, fetid ichor, in bone dust and illithid matter. You probably look horrible, you think. You know you should bend down to examine Ketheric’s body and see what the glowing stone in his chest is all about, but you can’t look away from your love. Not now.

Not when you were so close to losing him to his goddess’s arbitrary and cold demand.

But you didn’t. He’s alive. He’s alive. The thought pumps outward from your heart, warm and reassuring like the blood rushing through your own veins, reminding you that you too are alive. Your only thoughts now are of closing the distance between the two of you and peppering his face with kisses, telling him how proud you are of him, how brave he’s been, how much you love him. But as you take a step toward his platform, a shift in him gives you pause.

He slowly kneels down, still leaning heavily on his staff, and for a moment you think he’s praying, in the same way Shadowheart kneels to pray to her goddess. But no, his eyes are wide, staring, unfixed, not closed and reverent. After a moment, he sits fully on the ground, his staff falling with a clatter against the surface of the platform, and he buries his face in his hands.

You go to him immediately, using a last rare scrap of magic to misty step directly onto his platform. He’s shaking with fine, shuddering tremors as you approach, your steps cautious and soft but your heart aching and yearning to rush over. You reach out a hand, your own fingers trembling as they hover suspended above him, and you whisper his name uncertainly.

“Gale?”

You hear his voice but his words are muffled by his hands. You bend closer, making out fragments as his words tumble forth in a soft, whispered babble.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” he gasps. “I nearly—I almost—I could have—the orb. What have I done—”

“Gale,” you say again, finally kneeling in front of him and laying a hand on his shoulder. He jolts at the touch, stiff and startled by you, but you don’t let it deter you. You squeeze his shoulder in what you hope is a reassuring touch, even as the tears threaten to choke you as you watch and feel him tremble. “It’s all right. We’re safe. My love, you’re safe.”

He lowers his hands, one clenching the fabric of his robe over his chest, his breaths coming shallow and quick. His gaze on you is so different than before, all the warmth and steadiness and gentle, shy uncertainty that came with looking at you replaced with abject horror and unfocused panic. You get the sense he isn’t really seeing you, but staring through you to some theoretical what-if nightmare. One where you didn’t make it out alive.

“I very nearly killed us all,” he mumbles, still clutching his chest. "I nearly killed you."

“But you didn’t—”

“I was so close to—to—th-the orb, I could feel it stirring, like it wanted me to—” He breaks off, his hand tightening in the fabric of his robe. The mark of the orb glows faintly, the barest hint of illuminated magic threading upward toward his eye, casting an orchid-purple sheen to his dark iris. He bends forward slightly, combing a hand roughly through his hair and clutching brown and gray strands tightly in his fist, his eyes wide. You half-expect him to be sick as he presses his other hand flat against his chest, breathing heavily. “And now I’ve defied my goddess. I—”

He turns suddenly, sharply, twisting to prop himself up on hands and knees away from you as his body rebels against him and he retches. Very little comes up—he hasn’t been eating well since you first stepped into Moonrise and he found himself faced with the very real possibility of sacrificing his life—but his body shudders and bucks violently as it attempts to dispel everything inside him. Not just the contents of his empty stomach but the fear and loathing and terror too.

You don’t shy away from him. You shift closer, sitting on your knees at his side as his body settles into little shivers, his hands pressed flat into the surface of the platform. Your eyes are burning with tears now and you want to sob, your heart shattering for this man, your love, your heart’s song, but you have to be strong for him. You smooth his hair from his face, fingers brushing against his sweat-slick skin, and you cradle his feverish cheek in your palm. You say the only words you know to say and you repeat them as many times as you have to before they break through the haze of his clouded mind and resonate within him.

“Shh. You’re safe, my love. I’m here. I’m here with you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, my love. You are safe.”

He leans into you and you gather him in your arms, rocking you both gently as he rests his head on your shoulder and wraps his arms around one of your arms. His shoulder is awkwardly pressed into your chest and he’s half-curled into your lap, weighing your knees uncomfortably down into ground, but you don’t mind. Discomfort and awkwardness don’t matter. What matters is that he is alive and so are you. You remind him of that in words, in your stream of murmured comforts, along with all the rest.

It takes several long moments for his breathing to even out again, and another few for him to finally rest against you without an errant shiver wracking his body. But he calms at last. The tears on your face have since dried, but your heart aches no less than before. To think that your love would suffer so for making the right choice—the choice to live—but to suffer nonetheless out of a sense of guilt and fealty to a goddess that had thrown him aside like a broken toy.

It fills you with an uncommon rage. The gods are ever cruel, but the goddess of magic—you dare not even give her the honor of her name in your own thoughts—she is among the worst in your eyes. Even now, as your love struggles to compose himself, it isn’t a goddess’s arms or a goddess’s blessing that are there to comfort him.

The arms that are wrapped around him are your own. The comfort you have to offer is that of warm flesh and soft breath, mortal and precious. And it is better—better, you tell yourself with all the prideful conviction of a mortal soul—than anything an immortal, unfeeling goddess could offer.

He finally stirs, straightening up to look at you. Or look at your shoulder, rather, unable to meet your gaze. His expression is hollow, sorrowful, but calm. You know the road to him accepting and finding joy in his decision to defy his goddess is not yet over, and the path ahead may still be thorny.

But at least he has the chance to try and walk that path, rather than ending it all here.

"Forgive me," he says softly. He seems to want to say more, but the words don't come easily. You shake your head, not caring what he's trying to apologize for.

"There's nothing to forgive, my love. You made the right choice." You caress his cheek, wiping away the grime and the tear tracks that have collected there. “I love you, Gale.”

He finally meets your gaze and oh, your love, he looks so exhausted. But there is a flicker of his old self still there, a warmth that is familiar in his dark eyes. You press your forehead to his, still caressing his cheek, and close your eyes.

He’s alive. That’s all that matters. You can figure out the rest as you go.

“I love you, too,” he whispers.

You have to get out of here, out of this cavern of flesh and stone and brine. You have to face the problems of the world at large, the threat of the elder brain and more. You know that. But you steal a few more moments for yourself, breathing softly with Gale, treasuring every breath as though they were more precious than diamonds.

———

You set out to leave the shadow-cursed lands at what you think is dawn the next day. Even with the curse waning, it’s hard to tell the time with the sun still obscured. But the hope is that as the land fades away behind you, you’ll be walking forward into sunlight and not more night.

You and Gale walk at the back of your little group, your companions moving on ahead. With each step, the shadow curse lightens. There are hints and signs of new life all around, tiny green leaves fluttering against once-dead branches, thin shoots of grass poking upward from the cold, dry ground. It restores your hope for good things to come. Not just for these lands, but for you. For your love.

He’s been quiet since the fight against Ketheric. Contemplative. Thoughtful. You had spent the night wrapped in each other's arms, counting his every heartbeat and breath until you were pulled into slumber, suspecting that he had done the same for you. When you woke you both pretended that sleep had cured you of the previous day’s torments and used the task of breaking up the camp to travel onward as your distraction from your concerns. But you watched him across the camp anyway, a knot of worry in your stomach.

Sometimes, both this morning and in the moments traveling now, you see that hunger in his eyes as you did when he first saw the crown atop the elder brain. But sometimes you just see a lingering sorrow. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to ask him about it. Not yet. It’s enough that he’s here with you, and you trust him to speak to you about what weighs on his heart in his own time. But you still worry.

Just up ahead, the shadow curse seems to fizzle out entirely, like a fog that dissipates as the sun burns it away. Beyond the threshold is sun-warmed landscape. Though scarred by the smoldering and abandoned remains of the Absolute army’s campfires and shelters, nothing has ever looked so inviting to you before. You rush ahead, eager to feel the sun on your skin again.

The difference in temperature alone is enough to reassure you that the shadow curse is behind you at last. One second you are enveloped in the chill and dimness of the shadows, and the next you are warm and bright in the light of the sun. You pause just a few steps into the sunlight, stretching out your arms and lifting your face toward the sky, drinking in the warmth. At last. You feel as though you can breathe freely again.

You turn to smile at Gale, but he is not at your side. He lingers in the shadows, watching you. The shadow curse is like a sheer black veil between you, obscuring his expression slightly, but as you step closer you realize his eyes are glimmering with unshed tears.

“Gale?”

He blinks, as if awakening from the depths of his thoughts, and quickly rubs his eyes. “Ah…my apologies. Lost in thought, I suppose.”

You hesitate to leave the warmth of the sun, but you sense this is more important than sunlight. You step onto the threshold of the curse, reaching out a hand to him. You want to pull him out of the shadows and into the light with you. He stares at your hand a moment before taking it, but he doesn’t move. Like he isn’t ready yet.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, my love,” you say gently. “Tell me how I can help.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but for the first time, words seem to utterly fail him. He swallows, gazing at you with a stricken expression, and tightens his hold on your hand.

“It’s simply…I am…in awe,” he says at last. “Of you. And I am mortified with myself. No, more than mortified. I nearly…”

You sense the flow of his thoughts instantly, your minds connecting via the tadpole, his thoughts unconsciously opening up to you. At first he resists, his mind shutting down like a trap to spare you, but then the shields waver and fall away, and you are pulled into his memories. You feel the struggle within him as he stares at the elder brain. You feel the heat and pain of the orb inside, as if reminding him of his purpose. You see yourself through his gaze, the fear and love warring in your expression as you beg him not to go through with his sacrifice. You feel the moment he makes his decision, his resolve hardening like steel in flame, only to shatter, brittle and broken, the moment the brain disappears, the pieces transforming into needles of doubt that bury themselves in his psyche, his heart, his body.

As the familiar, terrifying sight of the colossal avatar of Myrkul rises into your vision once more, for one fleeting moment, you sense the desperate desire to end it all now, to end the storm of uncertainty in your mind, the pain of the orb, the fear of disobedience, the exhaustion of facing another battle with impossible odds. For one fleeting moment, you consider letting go and letting the orb obliterate you and everything around you.

And then the connection ends, and you are left standing at the threshold of the shadows with Gale’s hand in yours.

“I nearly killed us all with one rash thought,” he murmurs quietly. “The thought of my sacrifice never left my mind, even as I swore to you I wouldn’t go through with it.”

He takes a shuddering breath and a tear drips down his cheek. You catch it with your fingertips as you cradle his face with your free hand, your heart breaking for him all over again. His tears prompt your own and you struggle to hold them back, for his sake.

“And now,” he says, his voice altered, thick with tears. He swallows. “And now I see what I fool I was to doubt. To doubt you and your wisdom. To wish for death so quickly.”

He meets your gaze and you see a thousand words he hasn’t said yet there in his brown eyes. A hundred apologies, a hundred ways to beg forgiveness, a hundred confessions of love, a hundred praises, all about and for you. It’s a torrent of love and longing and guilt in his eyes and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of it.

“I would have condemned the brightest of stars to death,” he says. “I would have robbed the world of its greatest treasure. And for what?”

“Oh, Gale,” you whisper. You abandon the sunlight to join him in the shadows and embrace him, holding him tightly as he struggles to regain his composure. “No more. You made the right decision. You’re here with me. I’m here with you. We’re alive, my love, because of you.”

“But I could have—“

“But you didn’t.” You pull back to cradle his face in both your hands and wait until he’s looking you full in the face. You want him to see your own resolve, but also your love, your faith in him, your pride for him. “You chose to live, my love. That is the most important thing. That is all that matters right now.”

He stares at you, letting your words sink in, until at last he smiles. Though it’s still tinged with sadness and guilt, it’s genuine. It soothes your spirit and settles some of your worries.

“I don’t deserve you, you know.”

You shake your head. This isn’t about deserving, but you know that’s a battle you won’t win here. Instead you kiss him, your lips soft against his, and you let that suffice for words for a moment.

When you finally pull away, he seems a little restored. The love is back in his eyes and his smile isn’t weighed down as it was before.

“I love you,“ you say.

“And I love you,” he responds. “Immensely. More than I scarce dreamed I could love anyone.”

“We will find another way to deal with the brain and quiet the orb inside you. Some way that keeps us both alive and together. I swear it.“

“I believe you.” There isn't a trace of uncertainty in his voice when he says it. “I want that more than anything.”

“Want what?”

“To live. With you. To see the dawn of a new day with you, the dawns of a thousand more days. To know that the road ahead, whatever it holds, won't be spent alone, because I'll have you by my side.” He pauses, as if a thought is only just now coming to him. “I can...I can have that hope, now. Thanks to you.”

You smile. You take both of his hands in yours and step back, placing yourself once more on the threshold between shadows and sun. “Then will you join me in the sunlight?”

He looks at you, then at the sunlit road beyond, and then back at you. He nods, letting go of one of your hands but tightening his hold on the other. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Without another word, he keeps his hand in yours as you lead him forward step by step.

Away from the darkness and into the light.

#bg3 #bg3 fix #my fic #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #angst fic #kinda #gale x tav #gale x reader #i don't normally write you/reader pov fic so #hopefully i did okay #please check out the art that inspired this

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The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, awkwardness, angst, Lucifers past relationship with Lilith, misunderstandings, all the angst, Lilith being a bit of a bitch, mistakes are made, heartbreak, jealous Lilith, or is she just manipulative, who knows, I do I know.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

Lucifer was a mess.

It had been days since Lilith had shown up on his doorstep, acting like it wasn’t a huge deal she was back and looking just as perfect as she had when she had walked out on him all those years ago. Things had gone badly. Admittedly Lucifer hadn’t handled the situation very well, probably making it ten times worse than it should have been. He had never been all that good at dealing with strong emotions though, neither his own nor other peoples. Nor was he any good with highly stressful situations and unfortunately for him, Lilith’s return covered both those things. It probably wouldn’t have gone so badly if you had been at his side keeping him grounded and calm, but he had managed to mess that up as well, potentially ruining one of the two good things he had going in his life.

Lucifer had still been struck dumb, staring at Lilith like the world was ending when you had come down the stairs, all sleep soft and wearing nothing but your matching duck slippers and the shirt he had been wearing the day before. He hadn’t noticed at first, seemingly frozen to the spot but he had seen Lilith’s eyes flick up to something behind him, her smile falling into a frown as she narrowed her eyes. It had been your confused call of “Lucifer?” that finally had him moving, slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes franticly moved between the two of them, searching for some kind of explanation and clearly growing more worried when you didn’t get one.

Hindsight was a beautiful thing and as Lucifer looked back on what had happened that day, he wished that he had gone to you then. He wished that he had wrapped you in his arms and sworn he hadn’t known she was coming back. He should have told you then and there that he loved you, that he wanted to spend the rest of forever with you and that there was nothing left between him and Lilith for you to be worried about. He should have done a lot of things, things that would have saved you and him a lot of pain and heartbreak, but he hadn’t and instead Lucifer had gotten to watch as hurt and embarrassment flashed across your face, Lilith’s voice loud and clear as she asked, “really Luci, a sinner?”

You had tugged down the hem of his shirt, your embarrassed blush deepening as you tried to hide the fact you were naked underneath. His shirt wasn’t quite long enough though and all you did was flash them a glimpse of the teeth marks he had left on your neck the night before; still angry and red despite having been done hours ago. Lucifer didn’t know what Lilith had done but your eyes had snapped to her, going wide as you pressed a hand over the marks on your neck. Tears welled up, clinging to your lashes and threatening to fall but you had been quicker, hurriedly insisting that you “should go,” before you had turned away from them, disappearing up the stairs as quickly as you could whilst pulling the back of his shirt down.

He had just stood there, staring at the spot you had been and failing to understand what was going on. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. Lucifer had plans, had wanted to spend the day wrapped within your arms and basking in the love and happiness that you inspired within him. Everything was wrong though, that happiness having vanished the moment he opened the door. It was like the last eight years hadn’t happened, Lucifer right back at the beginning of the end for his and Lilith’s relationship. He felt like a hollowed-out shell, mind numb and empty as he continued to exist who no purpose or direction in his life, alone and unwanted. Lucifer knew that wasn’t true though. Things had changed so much since Lilith had left; he had changed. He wasn’t the same sad and broken man he had been, having found a new lease of life with Charlie, the hotel and you. He knew all this and yet that didn’t change a thing, Lucifer was still adrift within the darkness of his mind, trapped in the past and watching his future slip away.

Delicate fingers curled around his wrist, a thumb gently rubbing circles against the delicate skin. Wordlessly Lucifer turned back toward Lilith, eyes fixed on where they were touching. Her fingers were cool, her pail lilac skin in stark contrast against the dark black of his own. Before, when they had still been happy and in love this had meant everything to him. He had craved her touch, lighting up like a star when she so much as brushed a finger against his. After she had left Lucifer had longed for it, dreamed about feeling it one last time and crying when the memory of it had started to fade. He had been a mess to start with, missing her like he had lost a limb, but as the years had passed he had come to terms with it, missing the closeness of another more than her specifically. Now it felt like a band of ice around his wrist, a chain that weighed him down and dragged him back to the past where he desperately didn’t want to be.

It hadn’t felt like they had been stood there that long but the sound of hurried steps on the stairs said otherwise, Lucifer so caught up in his head that you had enough time to get dressed and pack the small bag you had slung over your shoulder. He had turned to look at you, Lilith’s icy cold grip still in place and chasing away his natural heat. Lucifer didn’t feel right, all out of sorts and halfway between loosing control and shutting down completely. Maybe if he had a better grip on his mental state, he would have shaken Lilith off, dropped down to his knees in front of you and begged for you to stay. He didn’t though and when he turned to look at you all he found was resignation and loss, your gaze focused on where he and Lilith touched.

You didn’t even look at him as you walked past, head down and eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Not even when he said your name, sounding just as desperate and lost as he felt. You did stop though, head turned ever so slightly in his direction so you could tell him that “its ok Lucifer, just, we’ll talk later yeah?” You don’t stick around long enough for him to answer, pressing yourself against the wall just to be as far away from Lilith as you can. Without even a glance backwards you disappeared down the street, pulling your hood up as you went to hide your ears. It wasn’t until after you had gone that Lucifer realised that you had still had his shirt on, the slightly rumbled fabric only just visible under your jacket.

It cracked his heart to watch you go, the feeling that he had just lost something important sinking into him like a weight. It’s to much like watching Lilith walk out all those years ago, except this time Lucifer doesn’t want to let you go. Doesn’t want to just stand there and let this happen because he doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t want to wake up seven years from now alone and depressed, hating himself for not doing something to keep you by his side. He can’t go through that again, he won’t. Lucifer loves you, more than he thought he would ever be able to love another again. If he could tell you that, if he could make you understand the depths of his devotion to you than maybe you wouldn’t look at him like he had ripped your heart out and trodden on it. Maybe you would say it back to him and Lucifer would get to hold you in his arms again.

He doesn’t even realise his halfway out the door until Lilith’s grip tightens, your name dying on his lips as he snapped his head back to glare at her. He had been halfway through demanding she let go when Lilith had cut him off, her voice gentle and calming as she urged him to “let her go Lucifer. You’ll only make things worse for her if you make a scene out on the street, especially looking like that.” It’s only then that Lucifer really notices his state of dress. Feeling exposed and embarrassed Lucifer had curled in slightly on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest in an attempt to hide his half-undressed state. It was stupid, Lilith had seen him with far less on before but now he felt vulnerable, ashamed of the state he was in. Not because of what he had obviously been doing with you to get in this state but because of Lilith herself. She looked immaculate, not a hair out of place or a single smudge to her makeup. She looked every bit the queen of Hell, stood tall and proud like everyone was beneath her and in that moment Lucifer felt just that, his fears and inadequacies come rushing forward and swallow him whole.

Lilith was right. If he went after you now, he would only make things worse for you. He was good at that, making things worse despite his best intentions. You were clearly hurt, thinking Heaven knows what about him and why Lilith was at his door. You had needed him to reassure you of your place in his life and his feelings towards you, but he had done nothing like the pathetic coward he was. He didn’t deserve you, had known it all along yet he had still pursued you, somehow managing to convince you to give him your time and affection but all it had gotten you was hurt, and it was all his fault. He never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to be the reason you looked so lost and broken and yet here he was. The very reason you had fled his home with tears in your eyes after having given him one of the best nights of his life. Why was he like this? Everything he loved always got twisted around and turned into shit, like his very touch was a plague on all of creation.

So lost in his darkening thoughts, Lucifer didn’t even realise he had been moved away from the door and led into the parlour until Lilith was gently pushing him down onto the couch, her ice-cold hands pressing down on his shoulders until he slumped back into the plush seat. She sunk down next to him, close and yet somehow miles away. They sat in silence for a while, Lucifer trying to keep his tears at bay so he didn’t seem even more pathetic than he already did. He was the first to speak, unable to stand the silence a moment longer. His voice sounded as small and broken as he felt, it nothing more than a whisper as he asked her “why are you here Lilith? Why now?”

As it turned out Charlie was the reason she had come back, having heard about the hotel and the fight with Heaven that their daughter had led. Lilith had been worried and impressed, proud of Charlie for standing up for what she believed was right whilst afraid of how Heaven would retaliate with Adam dead at the hands of a sinner. Lucifer had sat there, listening to Lilith talk about Charlie, the hotel and Hell like she hadn’t been gone for almost eight years, not really paying attention as his mind began to fill with static. It was all just pointless noise to him, Lucifer mindlessly humming and nodding along at what he hoped were all the right points. He felt numb, hollowed out and empty. This morning he had been so happy, full of hope and excitement for the future but now it was all gone, Lucifer unable to drag those feelings back up despite how badly he wanted to.

He wanted to go back to this morning, to the very moment he had opened his eyes and realised you were in his arms. He would do things so much differently. He would have woken you up there and then to tell you how much he loved you, told you of his intentions to make you his queen one day and asked for your permission to scream his devotion to you from his window for all of Hell to hear. He wouldn’t have gone downstairs, definitely wouldn’t have answered the door no matter how loudly or persistently Lilith had knocked. Lucifer would have stayed wrapped up in you, safe in your embrace and completely ignorant of the world beyond his bedroom walls. Maybe then you would still be here with him. Maybe then Lucifer wouldn’t feel like he was already losing you before he even had the chance to truly have you.

Charlie had turned up at the door not even an hour after you had left, eyes wide and full of disbelief as she stared at Lilith like she wasn’t sure if her mother was real or not. Apparently when you had arrived back at the hotel you had run straight into Charlie, barely managing to get out that “your mums back in town,” before you practically ran off in the direction of your room. Charlie hadn’t stopped to think things through, running all the way to Lucifers home to find out if you had been telling the truth.

Not wanting Charlie to see him in such a state, Lucifer had simply waved his hand and he had been stood there in his suit, his hair perfectly quaffed and not a single trace of flour to be found. It hadn’t been till later that Lucifer had realised his rushed gesture had also gotten rid of the melted candles and flower petals from the night before, his heart clenching painfully at the fact that it was all gone. His night of love and passion with you swept away like it was nothing. Like it was something shameful to be hidden away from those closest to him.

It had been easy enough for Lucifer to fake a smile, greeting Charlie with a level of enthusiasm he really couldn’t muster. She had given him a confused and worried look, but it had been easy enough to direct her attention onto Lilith, Charlie eager to fill her mother in on everything she had missed. For hours Lucifer had listened to Charlie talk about everything and anything that had happened in her life since Lilith had left, skipping no detail though she often got ahead of herself and had to backtrack so what she was saying made sense. The whole time Lucifer had said nothing, fake smile still in place as he summoned cake and tea periodically throughout the day. Charlie tried to get him involved but his short one-word answers didn’t really open up the conversation. The only thing that got any sort of reaction from him was the mention of you, Charlie excitedly telling Lilith about how nice you were and how helpful you had been with the hotel, completely oblivious to the fact Lucifer had gone rigid at the mention of your name.

Lilith had seemed worryingly interested in you, shooting Lucifer knowing looks that had him wanting to sink into the sofa and disappear. He felt judged, like Lilith was pulling apart every little thing about him and inspecting it for flaws, weaknesses that could be exploited. He didn’t want her attention on you, didn’t want you to feel the same level of uneasiness he did so he tried to move the conversation on, his laugh clearly fake and not hiding his nerves in the slightest as he insisted that Lilith didn’t want to hear about his personal life. Lilith had easily brushed off his attempts, asking if the “helpful little lamb at the hotel is the same one I found half naked on your stairs this morning? I must say Lucifer she looked quite, ravished. Do you take all the hotel staff home or just this one in particular?” Charlie had blushed at that, falling uncomfortably silent as Lucifer had covered his face with a hand, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

He knew what he should say, that he should tell Lilith that it was none of her business because she had been the one to leave him eight years ago and disappear from Hell, even though she insisted she had been down in Gluttony the whole time, witch was one of the biggest lies Lucifer had ever heard and that was saying something. He should tell her that he had moved on, that he loved you and that what she was implying was so wrong it wasn’t in the same universe. Lucifer knew exactly what he should tell Lilith but just like every other time his words failed him and all he could get out was a meek pathetic sounding “she’s nice.” Even Charlie was looking at him like he had gone mad, probably not understanding why he wasn’t gushing about yours and his relationship like he tended to, and Lucifer did want to do that. Wanted to scream his devotion to you from the rooftops but Lilith’s knowing gaze over her teacup had him faltering, not wanting to share any more of his relationship with his ex-wife than already had been.

By the time Charlie was getting ready to leave it was late and Lucifer was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide under his duvet as he finally got the chance to talk to you. That was if you were still awake and if you accepted his call. His plans to grovel for forgiveness were quickly brought to an abrupt end though when Charlie had asked Lilith where she was planning on staying. When Lilith had said she would just go to a hotel Charlie had obviously offered her own, excited to show Lilith everything she had been working on. Lucifer though had panicked at the suggestion, frantically blurting out that she could stay “here! Lilith can uh stay here. In the house. With me. Here’s fine. Yes, it is. No need to go all the way to the hotel when there’s a perfectly fine bed upstairs. NOT my bed. A different one. At the other end of the house. But still here, and not the hotel.” He was rambling, he knew that, but he couldn’t have Lilith going to the hotel. Not when you were there.

Charlie had been reluctant about it all, but Lilith had agreed and soon enough it had just been Lucifer and Lilith stood in the hallway, Charlie having headed back to the hotel with a promise that they would come visit so she could give Lilith the grand tour. It had been awkward, Lucifer feeling like he was trapped in a cage with a wild animal that was sure to attack at just the slightest movement. Lilith had been the one to break the silence, asking about her room and reluctantly Lucifer had led her up the stairs, feeling very much like a man on the way to the gallows as he went straight to her old suites. She had thanked him for letting her stay, even going as far as to tell him that it had been “nice to see you again Luci.” He had mumbled out some sort of reply along the same lines, bidding her good night before quickly heading to his own room.

It looked exactly the same as it had when he had left it that morning, except instead of you in his bed it was just the blanket he had conjured for you, haphazardly thrown across the wrinkled sheets. Lucifer didn’t even bother to get undressed, crawling onto his bed and cuddling the plush blanket to his chest. It still smelt of you, of the night before and the morning after, of all his hopes and dreams for the future he so desperately wanted with you.

He had tried to call you, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the phone ringing and ringing. It wasn’t until the third time he tried calling that you picked up except it hadn’t been you. Well, not just you. Angel Dusts voice had been the loudest, loudly proclaiming that “I don’t care if he’s the king of this shit hole, I’ll tell him exactly where he can shove his... HEY! Watch where your grabbing,” before the line went dead. Lucifer tries calling back, but it doesn’t connect, and he’s left feeling defeated, the phone falling from his grip as he rolls back over. He could go to the hotel, but he doubts that would end well. He doesn’t want to upset you any more than you clearly already are and there’s always the chance that Angel will try and shoot him on sight. Not that it would do anything more than tickle, but he highly doubted you or Charlie would appreciate him dropping Angel Dust through a portal to the other side of Pentagram City.

Sighing Lucifer curled tighter around the blanket, burying his face into the plush fabric and breathing in the slowly fading smell of you. He clings to it like somehow that will stop you from slipping through his fingers, like if he holds on tight enough you wouldn’t possibly be able to leave him. What if it’s not enough though? He’s hurt you, his failure to act causing you to flee like there was already nothing to keep you here. By giving you time to think is he just making it easier for you to walk away, thinking that he doesn’t care? But if he showed up at the hotel, desperate and close to breaking would you finally see that he just isn’t worth it? Feeling like nothing he could do would be right Lucifer pressed his face deep into the blanket and silently he cried out his frustration and pain, his whole body shaking with every sob and sharp breath.

The next day didn’t go any better, but it didn’t get any worse. He feels exhausted, not having been able to get any sleep the night before as his guilt and self-loathing had gotten the better of him. He truly hated himself for how he had delt with things the day before, feeling that he had not only let you down but himself as well. He needed to fix things, make sure you understood that his behaviour yesterday didn’t have anything to do with any feelings you thought he still might harbour for his ex-wife and everything to do with his delicate mental state and eons worth of feeling like he was incapable of doing anything right. Lilith’s unexpected arrival had taken him back to that and instead of standing his ground Lucifer had crumbled, taking you with him.

He does try and call you again, several times but just like the night before they don’t connect, and Lucifer begins to sink further into himself. He lets his wings drape across him, blocking off the world along with most of the light. He wallows in the darkness, self-pity getting the better of him as he lets every mistake he had ever made since the dawn of time replay in his mind like a greatest hits reel. He spends the day like that, still clinging to the blanket and making himself feel a thousand times worse. No one bothers him, not even Lilith and though he hopes that by some miracle you will come through the door he knows it won’t happen, halfway convinced that this is just another level to his punishment for defying Gods wishes. It seemed fitting that he would be sent someone so perfect he couldn’t help but falling madly in love with them only for them to be snatched from his grasp when he was at his happiness, and it be all his fault.

At some point Lucifer does manage to get some sleep, having cried himself to sleep, to exhausted to keep going. He’s woken up only a few hours later by someone knocking on his door, Lilith’s voice slightly muffled as she calls through the thick wood that she was “going out. Charlote wants to introduce me to her friends and show me this hotel of hers.” Lucifer is up and out of the bed in seconds, practically tripping over his feet and blankets in his desperation to get to the door. He yanks it open, frantically calling out that he’s “coming! To the hotel. I’m coming to the hotel as well.” Lilith’s only a couple of steps down the hall, her surprise quickly morphing into a wicked smile that has Lucifer thinking that he might have made a mistake by being so franticly insistent that he come with her. It’s just, you're at the hotel.

Lucifer missed you, probably an unhealthy amount considering it had only been two days since he had last seen you but that didn’t make it any less true. He wanted to see you and the easiest way to do that would be to go with Lilith to the hotel and if he could function as some sort of buffer between the two of you then that was even better. Lilith’s interest in you had worried him and Lucifer didn’t want her to start interrogating you like you had committed some sort of crime by being with him. More than anything though Lucifer doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable in your own home, and Lilith being there was sure to leave you feeling uneasy.

It wasn’t just to act as your knight in a white suit though, Lucifer was hopeful that by going to the hotel he would be able to fix whatever damage his actions or lack there of had caused. He wanted to get you alone, preferably before tea and whilst Lilith was off with Charlie having her tour of the hotel. Lucifer would probably be able to bribe Nifty to chase off Angel Dust as well, insuring he would have the time to talk to you and hopefully be able to convince you to give him a second chance. He was terrified that he had already messed things up beyond repair though and that cornering you in the hotel would just get him a slap and a demand to leave you alone. If you did say it was over Lucifer would accept that. Sure, he would be heartbroken, but he didn’t want to cause any more problems for you. But if there was even a glimmer of hope that things weren’t over for the two of you than Lucifer would grasp it with both hands, determined to prove himself to you.

Lilith had made a comment about his dishevelled state, but Lucifer had been to focused on his plan to really register any ill intent behind her words, agreeing that he was “a bit of a mess.” All it took was a snap of his fingers and Lucifer was ready to go, not a single hair out of place and his suit and shirt wrinkle free. Lilith had been watching him, brows furrowed as Lucifer practically bounced down the stairs. He couldn’t help it; he was excited to see you and full of hope once more.

He had opened a portal to the hotel, trying to put as much distance between himself and Lilith as he possibly could just to emphasise that they weren’t actually together even if they arrived together. Lucifer had not been expecting to find the parlour already full, seemingly everyone currently staying at the hotel filling the space. Lucifer had frozen, eyes wide and unsure what to do with the sudden attention, his happy smile faltering. Lilith though had just breezed through the portal, all smiles and kind words as she greeted the sinners excited to see their Queen like she knew them all personally. Lucifer had shuffled in behind her, uncertain and awkward as the portal closed behind him and suddenly feeling out of his depth, having avoided any sort of large gatherings since before Lilith had left.

He had forgotten how much the residents of Hell had flocked to her, hypnotised by her voice and desire to raise Hell up from the cesspit of sin that it was. She truly was beautiful when in her element, glowing with a confidence that Lucifer had always been in awe of. She had always been a magnificent performer though, able to turn a crowd with just a smile and now was no different. Now that he wasn’t so blinded by his infatuation for her, Lucifer could see Lilith’s interactions with the sinners for what they were, a performance designed to draw people in and win them over. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t genuinely care or believe in what she was saying but she just kept a part of herself back, her true self hidden from the masses. No one else seemed to notice, not even Charlie as she excitedly introduced Lilith to Vaggie and the others, practically vibrating as she jumped from one introduction to another, pulling Lilith along behind her as she went.

As the crowd moved Lucifer finally got a glimpse of you, sat at the bar with Angel Dust and looking down at the drink in your hand like your whole world had fallen apart. You had dark circles under your red rimmed eyes, a clear sign that you had been crying. His heart tightened painfully at that, knowing he was the cause and wanting to punch himself for it. Angel leant in, whispering something that had your head snapping up and eyes going wide as you locked your gaze with him.

It was like everything else around him vanished, Lucifers entire world narrowing down to you. It had only been a couple of days, but Lucifer felt like he hadn’t seen you in forever, his heart swelling with longing whilst it cracked with regret and shame. You seemed just as trapped by his gaze as he was yours, his own feelings of longing reflected back at him but instead of regret he found only resignation and acceptance. You offered him a sad shaky smile before looking away and turning your back on him. It felt like an end, like everything Lucifer had wanted was slipping through his fingers like sand. No. That couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allow it. You couldn’t just give up like that, like what you had shared hadn’t meant enough to you to even try and fight for it. Lucifer was halfway across the still crowded room before he even realised he was moving, trying not to be too aggressive as he pushed sinners out of his way in his haste to get to you.

Lucifer wasn’t quite quick enough though, Charlie making it to you before Lucifer could. She smiled brightly as she introduced you to Lilith, spinning you round and into her side so she could sling her arm over your shoulders in an awkward hug. Your initial shock didn’t last long and in the blink of an eye you were offering Lilith a bright smile, bowing your head slightly as you greeted her with surprisingly genuine politeness. Lucifer got there just in time for Lilith to answer your greeting, her violet eyes dragging over you in obvious appraisal as she told you that “Charlie has told me so much about you.” You and Lucifer both flinch slightly when Lilith says that, making it blindingly obvious that Lucifer hadn’t been the one to bring you up.

You recover from the metaphorical blow first, eyes dull and smile forced as you spoke about how happy you were to be helping Charlie with the hotel and all the hard work she had been putting in to making it work. It’s awkward, and uncomfortable for everyone involved apart from Lilith who doesn’t seem to notice you are looking at something over her shoulder instead of at her, nor that Charlie’s eyes are darting between the three of you or that Lucifer has tugged his hat down slightly, looking pained and embarrassed as he tried to catch your eye to no avail.

He can’t take it anymore, wanting to get you as far away from this train wreck of a situation before it gets any worse. His nervous laughter is loud and awkward when he cuts Lilith off before she has a chance to speak again, franticly trying to turn her in the opposite direction as he asks Charlie “how about that tour huh? Lots to see before Lilly’s got to head home.” He doesn’t realise the mistake he’s made until he sees the gleam in Lilith’s eyes and his stomach drops like the floor has just disappeared out from under him and he’s plummeting down into the unknown darkness below.

Lucifer hadn’t meant to use the old nickname; it just having slipped out in his desperation to get her away from you, but it was worse than just that. So much worse because Lilith had said “It’s lovely to be home again. I really had missed it up here in Pride and being back at the manor with Lucifer again, it’s just like old times.” With every word Lilith said Lucifer could see the light dimming in your eyes, your ears twitching downwards and smile clearly starting to strain. Lucifer tries to tell you that it’s not how it sounds but he can’t even get your name out before Lilith is looping her arm through his and pulling him along as she starts her tour of the hotel, Charlie quick to catch up with Vaggie not far behind. Craning his neck round Lucifer hoped to catch your attention but what he sees is you downing the drink you had been holding before practically slamming the glass down on the bar and quickly making your escape in the opposite direction they were going. Angel Dust is the one that catches Lucifer looking, shooting him a mean glare and using all four hands to flip him off before he goes after you.

Lucifer doesn’t pay attention on the tour, letting Charlie talk and Lilith lead him along by the arm. He’s too busy berating himself to listen to what’s going on let alone take part, mind firmly stuck on you and the dull emptiness you had looked at him with. How could he have been so stupid? He should have realised what him letting Lilith stay at the manor would look like to everyone else and especially you. He had been so desperate to keep her away from you that he hadn’t even stopped to think about the damage it would cause letting her stay with him for Heaven knows how long. Of course it would upset you. He would be angry too if you had an ex-partner move in next door to you at the hotel out of the blue. He really was an idiot. An idiot that was making everything worse just by existing. He really needed to talk to you, get all these mistakes and misunderstandings sorted out before they became too big to fix. He just needed to go find you, hopefully somewhere private where the two of you could be alone and just talk it out though if you wanted to scream, he didn’t think he would begrudge you that, not after how he had acted.

Lucifer had tried to slip away when Charlie had started talking about how she was planning on filling all the empty rooms. He had tried to be as discreet as possible, gently slipping his arm out from under Lilith’s and taking a small half step backwards. That was as far as he had gotten though before Lilith was grabbing hold of his hand and quite literally pulling him into the conversation, turning everyone’s attention on to him as she had asked about his role within the hotel. He had tried to laugh it off, insisting that he was just the financier but then Charlie had started insisting he was more than that, tugging him free of Lilith’s hold and having him lead the tour with her.

Any other time Lucifer would be ecstatic, proud of his little girl and everything she had achieved. Not that he wasn’t proud of her, but he couldn’t help but feel that with every step he took further into the hotel he was losing his chance to make things right with you. She looked so happy though, arm looped through his and smiling brightly as she told Lilith some of the tamer stories she had of the current guests. He couldn’t ruin that by running off, no matter how badly he wanted to. So, Lucifer had stayed, enjoying the time spent with his daughter and trying not to think how every second he spent casually touring the hotel was another second you had to convince yourself that Lucifer wasn’t worth the time you had given him.

It was late once the tour was over, it having taken a lot longer this time round compared to when Lucifer had been the one being shown around. He couldn’t blame Charlie for being excited and wanting to show the place of, but they hadn’t needed to look at every floor, over half of them just the same generic corridor with rows of identical empty rooms. Feeling frustrated and desperate Lucifer had been quick to usher Lilith through the portal, practically shoving her the last few steps before calling out that “I’m going out. Don’t wait up. Bye,” and letting the thing snap closed before she could say anything. Charlie and Vaggie had been shocked at his behaviour, but Lucifer had waved them off as he took off running towards your room. He was a man on a mission, and he wasn’t about to let anyone get in his way. He was going to your room, and he was going to explain everything to you, grovel on his knees for forgiveness if he had to and make it 1000% clear that he was not interested in starting anything with Lilith again. You were the one he wanted, not her.

The problem was you weren’t in your room, Lucifers insistent knocking either going unnoticed or ignored. He had panicked a little then, worry creeping up on him as he tried to think of where else you could be. He had seen you with the spider earlier so maybe you were still with him? It was a bit of a long shot considering how long ago he had seen the two of you together, but Lucifer didn’t really stop to think about that, spinning on his heals and heading down to the bar in search of Angel Dust and hopefully you.

That hope is short lived because when Lucifer skids round the corner he finds the bar practically empty, the only person inside being Husk who was slumped over the bar, halfway through a bottle of presumably cheap booze. Lucifer startled him when he slams down his cane on the bar top, demanding to know if he knew where you were. He wasn’t being very polite, but Lucifer was desperate, feeling like every second that went by was a second he was closer to loosing you entirely. Husk had given him a look that Lucifer could only describe as disappointed, sighing heavily as he told Lucifer that you were “out. Angel Dust and Cherrie decided she needed to let loose after that shit show this morning.” That hurts, Lucifer wincing at the reminder of how awkward things were when he and Lilith had arrived at the hotel that morning. He sinks down onto a barstool, arms wrapping around his head and crushing his hat as he let his head smack against the wooden bar top.

Out. You were out with Angel Dust and that cyclops women doing Heaven knows what and all because he was too much of a wreck to stand up for himself and deal with things the correct way. He could go after you, could demand that Husk tell him exactly what bar or club you had gone to but in the end what would that accomplish? He would make a scene, probably make a fool of himself for all of Hell to see and make things worse for you in the long run. But what other choice did he have? To just sit around at the bar and wallow in self-pity like the pathetic idiot he is, waiting for you to return to the hotel just so he could ambush you as soon as you came through the door? Angel Dust probably wouldn’t let him get within ten feet of you, uncaring that Lucifer was the king of Hell and knowing that he would never hurt the sinner because that would upset Charlie.

He could just leave. Go back home and wait till the morning before trying again. The thought of going back to the manor with Lilith made his stomach turn slightly, not wanting to be trapped in there with her and all the painful memories her presence pulled up from the dark recesses of his mind. It wasn’t just that though. Lucifer got the horrible feeling that if he left without doing anything at all that would be it. There would be no chance to talk and fix things in the morning. These last few months of happiness gone in a flash, leaving Lucifer all alone once more.

Husk doesn’t let him wallow for long, practically slamming a glass of some deep amber looking liquid down in front of him. He doesn’t look happy but that’s normal for him and Lucifer accepts the drink with a mumbled “thank you,” before taking a tentative sip of the smoky liquid. He promptly almost chokes on it when Husk speaks, eyes going wide as he tells Lucifer that he isn’t “one of those bar tenders that listens to your problems and dishes out advice. They're your hang ups and fuck ups not mine, deal with them yourself. That being said, that girl cares a lot about you, and she deserves a helluva lot better than being dumped like hot trash as soon as your ex come back around after up and leaving your sorry ass. So how about you ditch the pity party and actually fix your fuck up whilst you still can because, taking a girls virginity then moving your ex-wife back in the morning after? That’s fucked up even for the King of this shit hole.” Lucifer sits there, eyes wide and grip tight enough on his glass that it starts to crack. Little fractures that spread across the glass like spiderwebs.

Was that really what people thought? That he had been using you as a stand in and that as soon as Lilith had shown up again, he had just abandoned you for her? Was that what you thought? He sees you then, that resigned and accepting look in your eyes as you stare back at him. It’s like you had been expecting this to happen and had come to terms with it long before you had needed to. This whole time had you always been waiting for him to break your heart, expecting him to want nothing else from you other than to be a stand in for his estranged wife? His wedding ring glints in the light, a cruel reminder of his painful past and rapidly disappearing future. He suddenly understands why you had never brought it up, had never asked him to take it off. You had never been expecting him to, accepting that when it came to Lilith she would always be his greatest love and that you would never come close to holding a place like that in his heart.

The glass shatters in Lucifers hand, liquid spilling across the bar top as shards dig painfully into his palm. Vaguely he hears Husk cursing but Lucifers to preoccupied to really hear it. You had it all wrong. Yes, Lucifer had loved Lilith and despite everything they had been through and how her very presence reminded Lucifer of all his short comings a part of him would always care for her. She was the mother of his child, his first love, his first everything and they had eons of happiness together, but it hadn’t been enough to survive the worst of times. Lucifer had moved on, his feelings for Lilith now more like that of a dear old friend then a lover.

Lucifer loved you. Was madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with you. He would bring paradise to Hell just to see you smile. He would pull the very stars from the sky to show you that they paled in comparison to your eyes. He would build you a grand palace if you asked, would fill every room with rare jewels and riches. He would have the very streets of Hell scrubbed and cleaned so you didn’t have to walk amongst the filth and bloodshed. Lucifer would grant your every wish and desire. He would let you sit upon his throne whilst he curled at your feet, head in your lap and content to have your fingers in his hair. He would give you anything including himself, would even cut out his heart and offer it to you on a silver platter if that was what you need from him to truly even begin to understand what you meant to him.

He’s actions had been rash and desperate, clouded over by the past and his own failings. He would make it right though, would fix his fuck up as Husk had so eloquently put it. He was right after all, you deserved better than thinking you were anything less than everything to him. Shaking the glass from his hand Lucifer had stood, nodding his head and thanking him for “the advice,” before turning and heading towards the hotel doors. He ignored the other mans shout from behind him, his mind preoccupied with his forming plan as he started on his walk back to the manor.

That night Lucifer moved out of the manor and into his rooms at the hotel.

Lilith had been waiting for him when he returned to the manor. Though she made it look like she had just been enjoying a glass of wine and a book in the parlour, Lucifer knew she had been just passing time till he came back, probably expecting him to be heartbroken and so in need of comfort that he would just walk back into her arms. Well, she was wrong. Lucifer wasn’t heartbroken, not yet anyway. Clearing his throat Lucifer had stood in the hallway with his head held high and determined gaze fixed on Lilith who had turned slightly to look at him over the back of the sofa. His voice had been clear and steady as he told her that he was “moving out, tonight. I’m going to stay at the hotel for now until another permanent living arrangement can be made. The manor is yours, do with it what you will.”

Lilith had looked a little taken-a-back at his statement, gracefully rising to her feet and trying to dissuade him from his decision as she came round the back of the sofa. Lucifer had stayed firm though, holding a hand up and cutting her off before she could even get close to convincing him to stay. Instead, he was honest with her, his stern determination softening slightly as he explained that he “should have moved out years ago. This place holds to many memories, not all of them good and I have been keeping myself locked away in her for too long. It’s time I let go of the past and moved on with my life and I can’t do that here.” The with you goes unspoken but Lucifer can see the flash of understanding that lights up Lilith’s eyes. She leans back against the sofa, her hands curling around the edge and nails digging in slightly. Neither of them says anything, don’t really even look at each other as they both process what Lucifer had just said.

He hadn’t been planning on saying it but that didn’t make it any less true. Lucifer had been holding onto the past in many ways he hadn’t even realised, not just the ring but the house as well, it still being the exact same as it had been when Lilith had left. Nothing had changed for so long, Lucifers life stagnant even as he clung onto a time long since passed. But things were changing now and for the better. His relationship with Charlie was getting better every day and he was finally starting to take more of an active role as King of Hell, and then there was you. His sweet little lamb who had been the first person in a long time to make him feel like he was enough just as he was. Lucifers life had been good, or at least it had been right up until a couple of days ago, but Lucifer was going to fix it, and this was the first step to doing so.

Lilith was the one to break the silence, finally looking at Lucifer as she asks, “she isn’t just a fling, is she?” He’s not expecting that, eyes wide in his surprise but it fades quickly, Lucifer smiling his first genuine smile in two days. He doesn’t hesitate this time, his voice found as he admits that “no, she isn’t.” Lilith takes it all surprising well, telling him that she’s glad he had found someone who makes him happy and admitting that she had been “rather jealous when I first saw her. You will apologise to her for me won’t you Luci? I wasn’t particularly welcoming, and I would hate for my behaviour to come between the two of you.” Of course, Lucifer assures her that he will, smiling brightly and trying to hide the small thrill he gets at knowing that how happy and in love he had been had made Lilith jealous. Lucifer does laugh though when Lilith asks him if you realise how lucky you are to have Lucifers love and devotion, insisting that he was the lucky one. You could have anyone you wanted but you had chosen Lucifer and that made him the luckiest person in all of Hell.

He and Lilith spend almost an hour talking after that, Lucifer telling her how you two had met and how he had gone about courting you. Lilith seems genuinely interested, laughing at his failed attempts at flirting and even teasing him about his incapability to realise when someone what flirting with him. It’s nice, reminiscent of eons ago when they had still told each other everything, open and honest in a way that they hadn’t been towards the end. It changes nothing about his decision though and before the hour can pass fully Lucifer is excusing himself to go pack, politely declining Lilith’s offer to help. They don’t say goodbye, Lilith offering him a hopeful “see you soon?” that he finds himself repeating back to her. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after but at some point? That would be nice. Maybe even a family dinner, especially considering it would now involve you and Vaggie. He didn’t doubt that it would be awkward to start with, but he had his own hopes that somehow it would all work out in the end.

It doesn’t take him all that long to pack, everything important boxed up and moved to the hotel with a snap of his fingers. It’s not like he had much of importance to take with him anyway. A few trinkets he had picked up over the centuries and things from Charlie’s childhood that had sentimental value. There were photos and paintings that he wanted to keep, like the one of Charlie in her strange gothic phase or the one of her as a baby sat on top of a large rubber duck and smiling brightly as she laughed. There were so many of her at different stages in her life, ones of him and the other sins as well as the few friends he had made down here but there were also ones of him, Lilith and Charlie that he couldn’t bear to part with, the three of them smiling and laughing together that were important and precious memories from his past. He didn’t think you would begrudge him those, but he didn’t want you to think his memories with you were any less important to him. He hoped that one day soon he would be able to place photos of you amongst them, your bright smile and infectious laughter lighting up his walls just like they did to his life.

Eventually all that’s left for him to take are the pyjamas you had gifted him along with his duck slippers and the blanket he had conjured for you. They’re all folded neatly, stacked in a little pile on his bed that he scooped up into his arms and holds close to his chest. He gives the room a once over, eyes lingering on the bed as he recalls how peaceful and content you had looked curled up on the sheets. He’s half tempted to take it with him, the memory of your first time together such a bright spot in his life that he doesn’t want to leave a single piece of it behind. It wasn’t the bed that had made your night together so perfect though and taking it with him would just be impractical. With his mind still full of you he had opened a portal and stepped through into his rooms at the hotel, not feeling even a speck of regret at his decision.

Once the portal is closed Lucifer places the pyjamas and slippers on his bed, fully intending to wear them when he got into it later. For now, he keeps hold of the blanket and makes his way out into the halls, heading towards your room once more. His nock is gentle and steady this time, but his heart is beating just as rapidly as he waits for you to answer. You don’t, clearly not yet back from wherever Angel Dust and Cherrie had taken you. That should worry him slightly, but he trusts you, knows that even angry and hurt the most you will do is have one to many drinks and he trusts Angel to look after you, his own reforming conscience preventing him from letting anything bad happen to you.

He should go but he had come here for a reason, and he didn’t see the harm in leaving the blanket in your room to find when you got back. Maybe you would even find comfort in it, curling up in the plush fabric like he had the night before. Lucifer tried the handle on a whim, not expecting the door to actually open and yet it does, the soft click sounding far too loud in the otherwise quiet corridor. He steps inside quickly, shutting the door behind him and grumbling about you being far too trusting for living in Hell. Lucifer fumbles for the light switch, eventually just giving up when all his fingers find are wall and door frame. Instead, he clicks his fingers, the lights coming on instantly and filling the space in a warm glow.

Lucifer has been in your room before but never alone and never without your permission to be there. He feels like he’s trespassing. Like at any second alarm bells are going to start going off and metal bars will spring up to cover the windows and door, trapping him inside until you finally come back and find him huddled in a corner. He knows that’s not going to happen but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s doing something wrong by being here without you or your permission. Deciding that he had already messed up by coming in here Lucifer quickly marches across the room and places the blanket down on the end of your bed, a quick wave of his hand summoning a white and red rose that smells like candy apples that he gently placed on top of the folded fabric.

He's back out the door within minutes, lights off once more and hiding what he had done. He feel’s giddy and nervous as he makes his way back to his rooms, like a teenager leaving a love note in a crush’s locker. Lucifer is hopeful though, that somehow his offering will have you at his door before the night is over. Either to talk or to throw the blanket in his face, but still at his door none the less. All he needed was that chance. The chance to reach out and hold your hand and tell you he was sorry for the hurt he had caused. The chance to promise you that his heart was yours and offering to give it to you on a silver platter if that was what you needed to know his feelings were true. Whatever you needed from him Lucifer would give it to you willingly, would offer you the universe if it would offer him just a glimpse of your smile once more. Whatever it takes, Lucifer would show you where his love resided and hopefully start to build a future with you at his side. Together again and stronger for it.

So lost in his thoughts Lucifer did not see the violet eyes that watched him from withing the darkest shadows. As he disappeared around the corner the shadows shifted, taking form as they moved closer to the door he had come from. Pail lilac fingers curled around the handle, the door opening just enough for the shadow cloaked figure to slip through into the darkened room, the door closing silently behind it.

@viannasthings @loquacious-libra @misfitgirlwrites @nanamunath @cherry-cola-100 @a-okay-rj

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sunflowersteves · 2 years

Note

both eddie and steve fucking you

author's note || im so sorry this took me so long to do, but i hope you enjoy it!

pairing || eddie munson x steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings || angst, fluff, mean!eddie, soft!steve, edging, fingering, dom x sub, degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, punishment (light bdsm), mention of drinking, polyamorous relationship

The car seemed almost still. The only sound that punctured the air was the worn tires against the road. You looked out the window and watched the trees pass; light from the lampposts occasionally illuminated your face.

You were trying to find anything that could distract you from the burrowing shame that rushed through your chest. Although, you still found the silence too unbearable.

“Steve?”

As soon as his name leaves your mouth, Steve’s grip on the steering wheel seems insufferably tighter. He didn’t respond, leaving the two of you in the ether of silence. The absence of his voice sends chills down your spine.

Shit, yeah, you were in major trouble.

You could almost cut the tension in the air with a dull blade, and you try to sink further into the plush leather seats. Steve’s eyes fixed on the dark road in front of him, a firm and hard look caressed his face.

Your stomach twisted with guilt and sorrow—tears almost pricking your eyes.

You knew exactly why he was angry with you, and you have no doubt that Eddie is, too, back at home. You could picture the metalhead’s furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as he circled the living room.

You had gone out with your friends, and what was supposed to be a meaningless hangout turned into going to three different bars and a club. That was all fun and games until your location was completely unknown to the entire town of Hawkins, Indiana. When Steve called to pick you up, and no one had answered, a hollow pit sunk in his stomach.

He and Eddie had thought of the worst, especially since it’s only been five months since the events of the Upside Down. What if Vecna somehow came back? What if it was something else from the Upside Down? What if you were kidnapped? What if you were hurt?

Much more gruesome scenarios ran through both of their heads as the clock continued to tick off each passing minute of your absence. They knew you were probably fine, but the swarthy depths of the unknown sunk within their darkest fears of something happening to you.

There was one rule that you, Eddie, and Steve made sure that you all had to follow, that you agreed to follow. Tell everyone where you are. Just in case another Vecna or turn of events appears, then someone can get to you—someone can be there.

Eddie's experience of being alone during Chrissy’s death had twisted inside him and left a broken shell of himself. When you, him, and Steve finally got together, the light at the end of the tunnel was finally visible. If anything had happened to you or Steve, Eddie would never forgive himself.

Eddie had finally got a hold of one of your friends, graciously telling them where you were, and man, they were pissed. You hadn’t heard Eddie or Steve that mad before, ever. You heard Eddie yelling profanities in the background while Steve growled that you needed to stay where you were, and it made you stutter into the wall phone at the wine bar.

You waited—frightened—for what was to come and how your boys would react. When Steve arrived, he never said a word. Your head hung low as you opened the car door—his nostrils flared at your friend giggling. If you weren’t leaving, you might have thought Steve was going to rip them a new one.

The car pulled up to Eddie’s driveway, Steve shifting the gear to park. He starts to aggressively open the door—a rush of frustrations clouding his mind. If you could follow the one simple fucking rule of letting your boyfriends know where you were at all times, things could be just peachy.

“Steve—” He shook his head, already opening your own door for you. As pissed as he is, he still loves you. In fact, that’s why he’s filled with such ire, to begin with.

You trail into the house behind Steve like a lost puppy who was kicked to the curb. As you walk into the living room, Eddie is standing there with a menacing stature. His face looks red, chest heaving, and shoulder muscles tense.

“I cannot believe you.” He spits—eyes engrossed in flames. Steve has a hand on his hip, but his eyes are glued to the floor. “You can’t do that to us, do you understand?”

Your head hung low for the second time tonight, nodding immediately. Your heart ached for the two boys in front of you as guilt swirled through your chest.

For hours on end, Steve and Eddie were utterly disquiet as they called around Hawkins, and no one seemed to know where you were.

Steve scoffed, “No, she doesn’t. You-you can’t just scare us like that. What if Vecna or-or another monster from the upside down had-had—” He bit his tongue before he could say killed you because he couldn’t. He couldn’t utter those two words. “Look at me.”

You stayed still and squeezed your eyes shut. You hear footsteps coming closer, amber wood, and a hint of vanilla wafted into your nose. He’s forcing you to look at him with his hand on your jaw. “Look at me, baby.”

Your eyes lock with his, and it crushes every piece inside of you. You almost couldn’t hear him from your heart pounding in your ears. “You scared the shit out of us, you know that?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “I know you wanna have your fun, baby, but you need to let us know where you’re going. We–We need to know you’re safe.”

He’s looking at you so intensely that your lip starts to tremble. “I-I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie frowns and stalks over to the two of you. “Sorry?” He can’t help but laugh, “Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it—”

“Eddie—” Steve tries and grabs his shoulder, but Eddie brushes it off. “No, Steve. She left us to think of the absolute worst for hours. You can’t just say you’re sorry and think it’s all okay.” He huffs.

Steve’s slightly concerned at Eddie’s outburst but quickly becomes intrigued as Eddie goes to shove you against the couch. Your mouth is slightly agape and shocked at your boyfriend’s actions. Eddie grits his teeth, “if you can’t follow some simple fucking rules, then I’m going to remind you.”

Eddie rips open your skirt, a desperate plea escaping your lips. He aggressively pulls your pink lace down your legs. Steve gasps at Eddie’s force before stalking over to the couch and taking a look at the guilt and arousal that’s written all over your face. “Oh, Eddie, She likes it.” And you did. You really did. Your body did too.

“F-Fuck, pretty girl, you’re wet? Huh?” He mocks, dipping a thick finger into your folds. You gasp, “Eddie!” You roll your head back as your hands grip the fluffy couch.

“C’mere, Steve. I need you to hold her.” Steve complies and pries open your legs, holding them in place as Eddie continues his attack. His cock felt strained in his jeans at the sight. Steve’s eyes were dark hues—watching Eddie’s fingers scissor your open. “Look at this desperate little pussy, Steve. Look at her clenchin’ around my fingers.”

You moan at the feeling of his fingers curling—reaching further through your wet spongy walls. “You’re so pretty, baby.” Steve presses kisses on your shoulder, continuing to whisper more praises into your ear. You weren’t listening, though, not when Eddie goes to slap your clit.

He gruffs, “You, pretty girl, need to fucking learn—”

You hiccup, head leaned back further against the cushions. “Eddie, please—”

“You little slut, look at you. Our baby likes to be fucked like this, huh? You like when Steve and I are mad?” You try to respond, but Steve takes your nipple into his mouth and makes your begging fall off your lips.

His tongue swirls against the bud and groans at the soft feeling of your skin. He lets go, a harsh popping noise leaving your lips. “F-Fuck, baby—”

Your brain is absolute mush, and the only thing you could even think of was Steve and Eddie. They were both talking to you—degrading you, but you could barely even hear them.

Eddie becomes almost harsher, curling his fingers as he adds a third. You whimper at the sensation, it’s almost painful, but that feeling of pleasure seems like it’s about to burst as you clench. “You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You nod at Eddie, desperate to chase out your high. He’s fucking into you fast—his fingers relentless with each stroke. You feel Steve move to lick your wet slick near your thigh, your body shuttering at the sensation.

“Well, that’s too fucking bad.” Just as you feel the coil snap, Eddie releases his fingers. You whine, hips bucking into the air, and Steve almost couldn’t hold you down. You were desperate—so desperate—that it looked pitiful from you grinding into the air. “Fuckin’ look at you, pretty girl. Such a desperate little slut, aren’t you? But you can’t seem to follow a simple rule.”

Eddie makes Steve flip you over so your ass is hanging up into the air, face planted into the couch. You squirm as you watch, Eddie’s enraged eyes looking at your leaking pussy. “Only good girls get to fucking cum.”

He unbuckles his belt, making you loudly whine as his thick throbbing cock releases from his boxers. “Fuck her, Steve. Need to watch you fuck our girl.” Without warning, Steve’s cock rams into you, prompting a scream to leave your lips. “S-Steve!”

You hear him moan behind you, your arms limp and body at their full control. Steve’s cock is big—ramming into walls over and over. “S-Shit, sweet girl, you feel so fucking tight.”

“Yeah, Stevie? She feels good against your cock?” Eddie was closer now, watching Steve’s cock disappear in your dripping pussy. He whimpered as his own fingers swiped over the head of his cock. “Y-Yeah, Eddie—She—She huggin’ my cock and–and–”

Steve moans as thick ropes of his sticky cum fill your hole, and it makes you mewl. You’re close—so close as your walls clench around Steve. Eddie fakes a pout as he makes you look at him. “Awe, baby, are you gonna cum? Huh? You think you deserve it this time?”

Steve’s still riding his high, relentlessly rutting into you with his endless cum filling you up. You nod at Eddie, practically pleading to the ends of the earth for some type of release. “You can’t.” You almost scream at your boyfriends. “I told you that good girls cum, yeah?”

“Eddie, I-I can’t—”

He laughs, and if Steve wasn’t still fucking you silly, you might have snapped back. “Hold it. Fucking hold it, or I’m not gonna let you get fucked for a month.” Your mouth shuts almost immediately because you knew Eddie wasn’t joking. The fierce look in his eyes as he’s fisting his cock in his hands tells you everything.

He’s really not joking.

“Good girl.” You hold it as long as you can, you really do. Your walls are at a constant clench as Steve’s sticky cock floods your senses. “Eddie, Please!” You try again, hoping for him to let you just this once, but he’s shaking his head.

His own release is creeping up on him, pre-cum covering his head in full. He growls, “S-Steve, my pretty girl, look at you two. You’re mine.” Steve finally pulls out of you, his cum leaking against your thighs. He’s panting and mumbling absolute nonsense from his sensitive cock being completely fucked out.

Eddie bursts out a moan, the pure sight before him has his cock leaking out in thick ropes. You’re whining against the couch as you watch his cum drip down his thighs—you wished that was inside of you. He’s whispering your and Steve’s name over and over again while Steve goes to lick the cum off of Eddie’s thighs.

It was sure a sight to see, and you squirmed. “Pretty girl, ‘M sorry, but you had to be punished.”

You whimpered at Eddie’s soft voice, his anger subsiding to a low ache. “I know, Eds.”

They then join you on the couch, you being the middle of the Eddie and Steve sandwich. Things seem to have become much calmer, hazy eyes looking at one another with such adoration it was going to make your heart explode.

Steve rubbed small circles onto your forearm, and Eddie’s pinky linked with yours. Eddie isn’t sure if he could handle not being around your presence right now, and it was something that made his heart hurt.

The calm moment turned sullen as you heard a sniffle. You whip your head over toward Eddie, “Eddie, baby—” He shakes his head at you, frizzy hair tickling his cheeks. He’s then intertwining your fingers into his. “You just—you just really scared us. You really scared me.”

You squeeze his hand, reaching over to your right and intertwining Steve’s hand into yours. “If-If anything happens to you or s-steve, I-I don’t know what I’d do.” A tear falls down Eddie’s cheek, and you untie your hands with him to wipe it away. You’re so gentle with him, and it makes his heart preen to be closer toward you.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie. I really am. I didn’t know we were going out to different bars, and I know that’s no excuse.” You swipe your finger on his cheek. “I just–I'm so sorry. I love you both so much.”

Steve nods, “Next time, please tell us where you’re going, even if plans change.” Eddie hums in agreement as he presses his lips against yours. It’s a soft kiss. It's one that has your brain fuzz and your heart palpitating.

“Go give Stevie one.”

You turn, reaching over to grab Steve’s face in a gentle kiss. “I promise. I promise I’ll be better.”

For the first time tonight, your boyfriends smiled. “We love you too, sweet girl.” Steve presses a kiss to your shoulder, “We love you very much.”

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