The existence of the Ox miraculous is such an unnecessary ugly detail when you think about Ladynoir and how Chat Noir served as the punching bag and scapegoat for Ladybug, Alya as Marinette's actual partner in season 4, and the whole team in every single way pre-s5
The Ox gives the power of immunity even against any other Miraculous power. One would think with Adrichat's self-harming tendencies that canon had Marinette make entirely about herself because "they're haunting her so much", and her still narratively entirely unchallenged tendency of leaving Chat Noir behind on the battle field as sacrifice or bait to possibly have whatever the hell done to him so she can be save and sound while she and everyone else can look and be cool on his expense
With all that, one would have thought that if Canon Marinette truly loved Chat Noir "sooooooo much" and is oh so haunted by his self-harming behavior and him always getting hurt so she sidelined him "for his own good"
Then how come at no point did Marinette do the actually caring thing by giving Chat Noir the Ox miraculous since he's ALWAYS left behind BY HER so she can leave the battle field and execute her plans with the others save and soundly? If her Chaton's well-being was oh so important to her and it always "pained her so much" to see him getting hurt then why was the Ox only used 2 insignificant times by Ivan at the end of season 4 when it could have saved Chat Noir ALOT of suffering all the way through?
Or the turtle. Or ANY OTHER Miraculous for that matter?
Why was Alya getting two miraculous in Hack-San perfectly fine with Marinette but heaven forbid Marinette is actually expected to ACT like she gives a damn about Chat Noir's well-being as his leader, guardian, partner, and friend and not just the show having her claim superficial words that hardly have anything to back them up once they actually have to mean something?
Its almost as if Canon inherently doubled down on having Marinette be the kind of leader who will only do things in a way that primarily benefit HER while everything else gets swept under the rug because she isn't maliciously intentioned and then never brought up again. And unfortunately it was her who was written to prioritize making an unnecessary team of 18 miraculous holders no one ever asked of her to form (Su-Han even told her NOT to give out the miraculous like candy),
so Marinette was just made to not consider Chat Noir either at all or simply not as worthy enough of any kind of consideration in her entire leadership/ guardianship or actual safety, support, or ANY KIND of resource since that wouldn't be narratively about her, now would it?
She can't have Chat have the Ox because she might need Ivan as Ox in 4 months and she doesn't want to have to ask Chat to get it back or end up NOT getting to use this ONE other Miraculous out of a whole ass box, because that would involve a basic ass conversation Marinette can't have apparently or her not getting to use all of the miraculous however she pleases at any given point
The horror. Now she would have only 14 miraculous to work with!
As per usual, count me fucking unimpressed by Marinette's writing. The negligence towards Chat Noir on even the most basic level is insane and she was declared the epitome of leadership and kindness for this.
Cool that Marinette already decided in her head that Ivan is suitable for the Ox miraculous and he should get it in future, but Chat Noir needing help and protection wasn't some theoretical case, it constantly happened right in front of her eyes and even by her own freaking orders too because she never thinks of him in ANYTHING and the show glorified the hell out of her as leader for doing all that
Why is looking into ANY detail only making Marinette's side of Ladynoir so much worse ever since season 4? There is no escaping this! Just don't add the Ox with this power or actually have Marinette be a good leader towards Chat Noir. But noooooooooo.
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Asmo seems like the kind of person who acts normal (as normal as an asmo can be) about mc having a breakout but dreads the idea of them seeing even a single blemish on his skin
This can be interrupted as haha goofy ahhh or i can turn this into a serious thing where asmo cant let ppl know hes less than perfect or he'll disintegrate
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the thing about 9/11 is that it got used post facto to justify all sorts of hideous jingoistic shit but also it was a genuine devastating human tragedy and i really pretty deeply resent people's deciding that the—absolutely gross, don't get me wrong—way it's been culturally positioned justifies their making jokes about the event itself.
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I fucking hate landlords. Always have but now we are being forced to rent and god it makes me so fucking angry. Can't even find anywhere because they're all self entitled assholes. Tell me why we went to view a house and they tell us "oh yeah we're fine with pets it's no problem 🤪" make us wait like 4 days and then tell us that "actually NO we're gonna refuse you because you have dogs fuck you" AAAHHAHAHA I'M IN YOUR WALLS
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𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦
(gif credits to @peace--n--love)
— summary: ao'nung calls you the way neteyam usually calls you, which makes him feel jealous and insecure, but that finally pushes him to confess something he has been feeling for too long.
— pairing: neteyam x female!na'vi!reader
— word count: 2k
—warnings: pure and comforting fluff, ao'nung being ao'nung (an idiot), love confessions, jealous!neteyam, neteyam being the purest and most beautiful angel.
* Neteyam is aged up, for obvious reasons, of course; he is 19 years old.
* Sluyang means flower.
neteyam's playlist i made for inspo
writer's note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
You liked to observe the beauty that Eywa gave to Pandora, you were still surprised by how beautiful the forest and the places it could hide, even after having grown up there and having been all those years among its leafy trees, even so, the forest hid secret and beautiful places, worthy of being seen and found by only those chosen ones.
Your mother was sure that you had a special connection with Eywa, practically since the day you were born and opened your eyes for the first time, green as a pair of emeralds. She told you that you had come into the world for a purpose, that you were Eywa's chosen one, in fact, those were her last words to you before she passed away in your arms, haunted all her life by an illness from which she never got better. And since then, Jake and Neytiri had taken care of you, accepting you into their family as if you had always been one of them. You soon became close to their children, especially with Neteyam, as you were close in age.
And because of that special fascination you had for the forest and nature in general, Neteyam made a habit of always bringing you things from his many explorations and hunts, things that reminded him of you; flowers, leaves and even rocks, bright and beautiful, out of the ordinary, that stood out among everything else, just like you.
“You don't have to, 'Teyam.” You always said every time he came to you once again with a new gift. But he would simply shake his head, offering you a charming and gentle little smile, ever so kind, ears slightly bent and gaze so bright every time he met yours that it seemed to dazzle you, leaving you completely mesmerized.
With a coy smile you tried to avert your gaze from his, analyzing the object now in your hands. “Really, it's not necessary.”
“I like to do it.” He would simply reply, seeking your gaze with his big, captivating, coaxing eyes, as if it were something insignificant, something that didn't matter, something that wasn't like the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. And you would do nothing but grin at him. You couldn't stop smiling, your cheeks felt almost numb, but you were happy, content, he made you happy. And you knew that this, in the long run, would bring serious consequences, not so good, you supposed.
And now, in the huge ocean, when you thought nothing would surprise you anymore, Eywa seemed to turn every assumption you had upside down. Jake had taken you with him and his family to the place where the Metkayina Clan lived, leaving the Omaticaya behind, leaving the shelter that the forest offered you, to now be surrounded by the ocean; salt water and sandy land.
They had been kind enough to accept you into their home and to show you their ways, noting the great difference from your own, but, apparently the younger members of the clan were not as friendly to strangers as the older ones.
Ao'nung had been rather harsh with you, especially Kiri, whom they had addressed as a freak, as they had nicknamed her, and from there, the problem grew larger, for you and Lo'ak had taken up against them in her defense.
“Look at her.” Ao'nung called out, following Kiri like prey, looking at her with big, disgusted eyes. “Is she a freak or something?”
“Don't call her that.” You stated in a not at all friendly tone, scowl and defiant eyes looking up at the chief's son, pointing at him with your index finger and thus causing him to move backwards. “You have no right to call her that, did you hear me? The Chief's son or not, I'll kick your ass.”
With a tilt of your head, you stated the threat, making him snort ungraciously, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.
“For such a pretty little girl, you sure have a big mouth.” His big eyes narrowed as he spoke, demonstrating a smug attitude as he heard a couple of snickers from his little friends at his words. “You are one of us, little flower. Why you waste your time hanging out with these aliens?”
“Hey!” Lo'ak exclaimed, appearing at your side, fists clenched and face angry. “Don't call her that, get away from her!”
“Please, leave us alone.” Kiri grumbled behind your back, hearing how now, you were the target of annoyance from the little group.
Your mouth hung open wide, totally offended now, feeling the fury shake your body from head to toe, your tail wagging angrily as you lunged at him at the same time you heard an 'oh uh' from Lo'ak.
But your movement was halted as you watched as a body larger than yours stepped between you and the bully, leaving you in view of nothing but a broad back you knew all too well and blocking Ao'nung's smug, sneering face from your view.
“That's enough.” Neteyam said in a stern tone, deep voice and tense body, always as diplomatic and calm as ever, braids moving under the command of the wind and his head, which rose slightly, giving him a more stern and much more menacing stance. “As long as we are here you will treat my family with respect and call no one by other than their names.”
His head moved so that he could look at the faces of the little group that had formed, friends of Ao'nung, as silly as he was, apparently, but who, in Neteyam's presence, seemed to have been brought back to reality and put back in their places. They were not so foolish after all, they knew that against him they would have no choice but to flee. Cowards.
“(Y/N) is just fine for you, got it?”
“Whatever.” Ao'nung replied, rolling his eyes and starting to walk, bumping his shoulder against Neteyam's as he walked past him, his eyes met yours for a couple of seconds and he offered you a smirk, making you grunt and by the time you could take a step towards him, a hand found itself on your forearm, stopping any act of violence you had planned to do.
“Cowards.” Kiri spat, rolling her eyes.
When you looked back, Neteyam was looking at you with eyes, dark, but now filled with concern, his fingers barely caressing your skin before he pulled away from your arm.
“Are you okay, syulang?”
You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. “I'd be better if I'd beaten that skxawng—”
“Hey.” He interrupted you, noticing how your ears were still bent and your tail twitching behind your back and he laid both of his hands on your shoulders now, in an attempt to reassure you, giving you delicate petting strokes. “It's okay, it's all over now.” His gaze traveled to his siblings behind you, moving his head and face transforming to one of authority, chin up. His voice came through loud and clear, almost scolding. “Home, now. You've had a lot for today.”
Lo'ak lifted his hands, looking incredulous. “But they were bugging-”
Neteyam was quick to interrupt him. “Home. We will talk to father later.”
The younger boy let out a snarl and without further ado, began walking back to where his family was staying, followed closely by Kiri, who kept a glum face, arms crossed over her chest.
And now, all of Neteyam's attention landed on you, as it naturally did, as his body always seemed to do instinctively, even though he didn't even intend to, he always focused on you, as if you were the center of the universe, the sun of his world, the core of his heart, the magnet of his mind and the horizon of his eyes. He saw you. He had always seen you. And practically everyone in his family knew, perhaps everyone on the whole planet, except for you, of course.
Neteyam had expressly refused any offer or even, even idea from his parents to find him a Tsahik as his position as the future leader of the clan, it was his duty and it behoved him to follow to the letter the duty that rested on his shoulders as the future chief, but now, all that had been left behind with his leaving. Now all he cared about having was you. All that mattered was you.
With a beautiful sunset behind him, he began to speak to you once again, hands gently running over your shoulders and arms, becoming more attentive, affectionate, but still concerned. His brow furrowed slightly and you knew immediately that a scolding was coming now. “What were you thinking, hm? Fighting them all?”
He was always like that with you, especially when you were alone together. Neteyam never felt he was enough for his father, and he too never seemed to be satisfied of him, let alone see all that his son did for his family, for his siblings and for him, but with you, with you everything was different, he could be different, he could be himself and he knew that was enough for you, you made him feel enough, you made him feel special.
“If that's what I had to do for protecting Kiri, Lo'ak and their family's honor, of course.” You answered immediately and with your words, sounding so sure and affirmative, Neteyam felt his heart be flooded with a most familiar warmth, an emotion quite well-known to him whenever you were near him and said things such as those, always putting others before yourself, putting the welfare of his family before yourself.
A smile tugged at Neteyam's lips, admiring you with bright, big eyes, his hands trailing down your shoulders, sliding down your arms to your hands, taking them between his own tenderly, fingers toying with yours absentmindedly as he watched the clear size difference.
“He called you little flower.” Neteyam stated after a silence of a couple of seconds, twisting his head. His jaw was clenched and ears barely tilted back. “I call you that.”
You bit your lower lip, holding back the smile that threatened to curve your lips at his clear display of jealousy. He was upset about it and you had to reassure him. Your fingers caressed his wrist, tracing imaginary lines down his forearm. “I like it better when you do it.”
“I sure hope so.” He smiled again and tugged on your hand, inviting you to walk with him, both of your hands tangled between his arm, and he didn't waste a second in drawing you to him. “I want to show you something.”
. . .
Neteyam had found the spot walking along the local beach, it was a bit far from the place where his family was staying and it was far from the town in general, but that made it a perfect location. It was a small bay, surrounded by coastal vegetation, a couple of palm trees and soft silky sand, but what was really amazing, was the glows of bioluminescence under the clear ocean water, algae of all colors, small animals swimming, with the sunset light bathing exquisitely over the turquoise sea.
It was beautiful, of course. But your reaction at the sight of it was even better; mouth half-open, eyes huge and amazed, face in wonder.
“'Yam… it's beautiful.” You murmured in a soft, barely audible tone of voice, but he was right next to you, as close to you as possible, so he could hear you perfectly. His fingers were intertwined with yours and he pulled you with him across the sand to the perfect place to sit.
“Yes it is. I found it as I was passing by... I immediately thought of you.” His gaze lowered with a hint of embarrassment flashing across his pretty face. “I know how much you love nature, all the things our great mother has given us, so, I thought, you would like it.” He stated and then shrugged, attitude becoming quite braggy now. “I've seen more beautiful things, though.”
You rolled your eyes, pushing your shoulder against his in amusement as you wrapped your arms around your knees, admiring the scenery in front of you. “Don't lie now.”
“I'm serious.” He laughed, looking up at you, analyzing every expression on your pretty face. “I'm no liar, you know that.”
You raised an eyebrow, turning your head so you could look at him now. “Really, huh? So what have you seen? What possibly have you seen prettier than this?”
Neteyam smiled thinly, stirring his arm lightly, his hand passed down your back, resting on the sand, fingers fiddling with it. “Something prettier than this?”
“Hm.” You hummed, looking at him curiously.
His ears perked up, gaze dropping to his lap, steeling himself inside, trying his hardest to calm the nerves that were practically eating him alive. And then, he moved his eyes up your body, until he met yours. “I'm looking at it right now.”
Your breath hitched and your mouth parted, feeling your body freeze. Your arms fell to either side of your body, adjusting your position.
“Nete…” You whispered in a shaky voice.
“Yes, sluyang?” He tilted his head softly. “I'm being honest.” He swallowed saliva, his hand trailing up your arm, caressing your shoulder and tracing your jaw, down to rest on your cheek, fingers tracing every inch of skin he could, arranging your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “I've always seen you as the most beautiful thing…” His lips trembled, faltering for a few moments. “I see you, (Y/N).”
You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I see you too, Neteyam.”
He closed his eyes too, caressing your face with his. “When that idiot called you flower and treated you that way… like you were nothing.” His hands cradled your face now, and you rose up to face him, completely silent, breathing agitatedly. He was breathing in an agitated way too, looking frustrated, disturbed. “I was furious. They should respect you. Every one of them should know that you are mine and they should treat you as such, as my equal, as my mate.”
You opened your eyes to find his eyes already on you, your fingers stroking his arms subconsciously. Your lips brushed his as you opened your mouth to speak in an agitated voice. “I want to be yours, Neteyam.”
“I can't pretend anymore.” He declared between shaky breaths, gaze traveling between your eyes and mouth as he shook his head. “I don't care what anyone else says, I don't want anyone else. I have already chosen. I just want you, (Y/N)... I was made for you.”
“Then just take me.” You murmured against his lips before joining them with yours in a needy, agitated kiss that felt as if everything at last, made sense, as if life had been created just for this moment, as if you had been brought to life just this moment, for each other.
It felt as if all the constellations had aligned for you, as if you had all the stars just for you, and that was given just once, you knew. Everything made you feel as if Ewya had created you for each other. You were made for each other and perhaps the Great Mother had aligned the whole universe for it, for you.
“I am yours.” He promised. “I always have been.”
Your legs tangled between his as you landed on his lap, being drawn in by his arms chaining themselves around your body, massaging your waist, tattooing his touch on your skin.
“Forever.”
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Eddie can’t sleep with all the snoring. He should’ve taken Steve’s guest room when he had the chance but Eddie apparently is an affectionate drunk. He didn’t protest when Steve and Robin lead him to Steve’s bedroom and the three had just collapsed onto the bed together.
Now Steve is snoring like a fucking chainsaw. How can he be expected to sleep in these conditions? Hey, at least Eddie’s found one thing he finds undesirable in Steve. It was beginning to be too much— the constant barrage of butterflies in his stomach whenever Steve did completely normal, swoon worthy things. But Steve snoring like a faulty boat motor? No butterflies. Problem solved.
But Eddie’s still mad that he can’t sleep. He flops around angrily to glare at Steve’s slumbering form and— the dude is on his back, wide awake and blinking up at the ceiling. Now Steve’s back to being stupid perfect and that just makes Eddie more mad.
“What the fuck,” he whisper-shouts in the dark. Steve, fucking glowing in the eerie blue-tinted light spilling in through the window, just turns to him and shrugs.
Eddie props himself up on his elbows and peers over him at Robin— who is twisted up in a blanket, dead to the world and making enough noise to scare away a wild demogorgan probably.
“Does this happen often?” He asks Steve.
“Only when she’s drunk, and you don’t need to whisper, no way you can wake her up now,”
“Oh,” Eddie flops back down on his stomach making a mournful noise. “Goodbye sleep, you will be missed,” Steve turns to Eddie, curling up onto his side until his face was so close to Eddie’s that their noses almost touch.
“I can think of other ways to pass time,” Steve practically purrs. Eddie barely hears him past the blood roaring in his ears.
“L-like what?” He tries and fails to keep his own voice steady. If Steve making eyes at him from a distance are dangerous then those eyes in this proximity are deadly. Eddie discreetly pinches himself to keep him from doing something stupid. Like closing the gap between their lips.
“Like—” Steve pulls himself up and, holyfuckingshit, plants a knee on either side of Eddie’s hips. Eddie doesn’t have an exact number for the times his dream had started exactly like this. Steve on his hands and knees, hovering over Eddie.
This is happening. Is this happening? With Robin right there beside them? Actually Eddie doesn’t care about that part but is it happening?
Then Steve moves again, gets off Eddie and slides off the bed like he didn’t nearly just send the man into cardiac arrest. “We could go watch a movie?” The fucker smirks at him like he knows exactly what he just did to Eddie. Get it together, Munson.
Eddie ends up following Steve downstairs like a love sick puppy anyways. Even lets him pick a cheesy musical to watch. When Eddie finally starts to drift off to slumberland, he feels a strong pair of arms pulling him into a warm chest. And the last thing Eddie thinks of before fully succumbing to sleep is that maybe he might have a chance with Steve after all.
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Various ways in which I have underestimated my chickens (callout post to myself):
cognitive abilities (memory): I dropped some pasta while making a salad earlier and Louise was nearby so I opened the door and invited her into the kitchen to come clean up. At first she just meandered round the room glaring suspiciously at furniture because she's unfamiliar with the inside of my house, then I helped her locate the pasta and she pounced, but before she could eat all of them Morille came zooming across the room with Pandolf zooming behind her, which freaked out the hen who noisily flew-ran out of the room. She stayed away long enough that when I called her inside again I expected her to have forgotten all about the pasta, and that I would have to show it to her again, but instead she went straight for it, resolutely, having clearly kept this important goal in a corner of her teeny tiny mind this whole time.
hunting abilities: before getting chickens I didn't realise they actually hunted? (sometimes.) I pictured their search for food as quiet foraging, busily scratching the dirt for worms, but a) hens are never quiet they're always chattering to each other so already that part was wrong; b) when they find a worthy prey they hunt it with the fierce determination of a mountain lion. I once saw Dru chasing a grasshopper across half the pasture, running at full chicken speed and sometimes boosting herself with her wings Mario kart-style while the grasshopper desperately hopped for its life, until eventually she pounced with her beak wide open and managed to catch it mid-jump. With an action movie soundtrack this scene would have been every bit as intense and gripping as a cheetah hunting a gazelle in a wildlife documentary.
social abilities (empathy): one time Cordélia had a little bit of grass stuck in her eye and she kept rubbing her head with her claw to try and dislodge it unsuccessfully, and then she seemingly asked Dru for help, placing her face very close to the other hen's face like "see that stupid twig?" and Dru removed it with her beak. Again that's not something I would have expected from a hen... they're very disloyal creatures, so it was fascinating to see. They would stab their grandma for a dusty rigatoni but leaving a friend with something stuck in her eye is apparently a level of antisocial even chickens won't cross.
social abilities pt.2 (romantic sensibility): sometimes when the night sky is clear and you can see the Milky Way, instead of tucking themselves in at sundown like they usually do, they'll fly to the roof of their coop and sit there for a little while to watch the stars together. Okay this one may be a tiny bit less scientific an observation than the others but I don't have an explanation for this behaviour; I've never noticed anything wrong with their coop on these particular nights, the door is open, they can go in—and the girls don't seem stressed at all, if anything they look like they're having a nice peaceful moment and I feel bad for bothering them.
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It feels like there's this narrative that fandom keeps wanting to explore, with Steve Harrington, about this very specific type of martyrdom where self-sacrifice is an expression of a lack of self-worth. And, like, yes, write the narrative that's meaningful to you, and yes ok Steve does admittedly get beaten up a lot, but -- legitimately I do not think this narrative is actually Steve's story.
Like, without gendering things too much, there is something in the Steve fanon that I keep seeing that's so reflective of the specific kind of sacrifice and societal pressures exerted on girls, specifically -- this story of 'you make yourself worthy and worthwhile by carving pieces out of yourself', of believing that you must always give and never receive to justify the space you take up in the world. Yes, boys can experience this same pressure (and obviously trans and nb people of all genders run into it as well! sometimes a lot!), but especially in the mid-1980s cultural context where Stranger Things takes place, it's just...really not likely to be a dominant narrative for Steve to be operating under? It doesn't even really match the Steve we see on screen -- who is happy to make sacrifices for the sake of others, yeah, when needed, but who's not particularly kind or giving unless somebody asks first.
And Steve does get hurt a lot on other people's behalf! And this is a problem! It's just a completely different problem than the one fandom keeps writing.
Steve, and I'm going to say this forever, is a story about toxic masculinity, which the show may or may not even know it's writing. The archetypes influencing Steve's character as it shows up on the screen (and the stories and messages that Steve would actually be surrounded by in his actual life) are not deconstructions of suffering heroes who never should have had to fight in the first place and were destroyed by it. That's the Buffy the Vampire Slayer story. Steve's not Buffy. Steve's cultural context is Indiana Jones.
Steve is The Guy! And part of being The Guy is that you're expected to take the hits -- not because Steve is less important than the women-and-children he's supposed to protect, but because, the story says, he will get less hurt. Why should Steve get in between Billy and Lucas? Because Steve is an eighteen-year-old athlete and Lucas is in middle school, and of the two of them, Steve actually stands a chance. (And yes, Steve got badly hurt there, and Max had to save him -- but if Lucas, if Max had taken that beating they would not have been running through those tunnels later.) Was somebody else better-qualified to dive down to the uncertain bottom of a cold lake in the middle of the night? Steve doesn't list his credentials there as a way of justifying some ideal of martyrdom; he is literally the most likely person on the boat not to drown.
And make no mistake: when Steve's pulled into the Upside-Down, he survives the bats long enough for backup to get there. Realistic or not, he's apparently tough enough that he's physically capable of hiking barefoot through hell without much slowing down. Steve is the tank for the same reason as any tank: because he literally has been shown to have the most hit points in the group. You cannot honestly engage with Steve in this context without dealing with the fact that he's right.
AND THIS IS A PROBLEM! This is still a problem! But it's not the same problem that fandom seems to expect. It's not an expression of caretaking or the need for self-sacrifice; it's not an issue with Steve valuing himself less. It's an issue of toxic masculinity so ingrained that Steve doesn't even recognize he's suffering from it, because one of the tenets of toxic masculinity is that Big Strong Guys don't suffer. It's just a concussion, it's fine, he'll walk it off. It's not that Steve thinks he deserves to get hurt, or even that he's less deserving of safety than the others. It's that absolutely nothing in his cultural context allows him to admit that he can be hurt in a significant way.
There's still so much tension that can be gotten out of this situation, I swear. There's so much that can be explored in writing! Hell, the show itself is deconstructing some of this trope, believe it or not, by giving us a Steve who absolutely can take all the hits thrown his direction but still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing with his life. It turns out that doing his job as The Guy is only mildly helpful in horror movie situations (mostly by buying time for smarter, squishier people to do the damage from behind him), and somewhere a little worse than useless in everyday life.
But Steve does not go out of his way to self-sacrifice, he really doesn't. He just does his job. He's The Guy. Of course he's not going to let a kid or a girl or some scared skinny nerd who just learned about monsters yesterday take the hits. Of course Steve's got this.
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Closure (Ⅲ)
Azriel x Reader
a/n: part three!! Comment if you’d like to be added to part four :) quickly proofread, sorry for any errors
Requests are open for headcanons/short blurbs
ALSO IM A BIT NERVOUS ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT THIS PART IS GOOD SO YALL LMK PLS
Part 1
Part 2
PART FOUR
warnings: angst, allusions to sex (18+ please)
“What are you and Azriel doing?”
Mor’s question drew your attention from the book in your hands. You sat up on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth. You had no idea. It had been a few days since that evening with Azriel in the Hewn City. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t spoken to you since.
Mor sighed, taking a seat on the couch beside you. “I thought you said you ended things with him.”
“I—I did. But…” you trailed off, fidgeting with the spine of your book. “…I can’t stay away from him.”
“Because he’s your mate.” Mor said. A statement, not a question.
Shock was written all over your face. “How did you know that?”
“Anyone with a brain can see it. Except for Azriel, apparently.”
You looked away, finding sudden interest in Feyre’s family painting on the wall. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why?” Mor’s voice was soft, understanding.
“Because he is only interested in Elain.”
Mor went silent for several moments. “I think Azriel feels he isn’t worthy of you.”
“That’s nonsense.”
Mor snorted, twirling her golden hair around her forefinger. “Trust me, I know. But as long as I’ve known him, Azriel has always thought himself to be a bastard-born nobody, undeserving of anything good.”
Something in your soul ached at that. You knew Azriel had issues with his self-esteem, but you didn’t realize just how much it affected him.
At your silence, Mor continued, “Despite his inferiority complex, his behavior is uncalled for. He shouldn’t be stringing you along while entertaining Elain.”
“I know.”
“And you need to grow a backbone.”
You glared. “I have a backbone.”
“Not with Azriel, you don’t.”
You couldn’t argue with that, as much as you hated to admit it. Perhaps it was the bond, that made you so weak to his advances. Perhaps it was your own naïveté.
“Do you…” You swallowed thickly, the question catching in your throat. “Do you think he knows about the bond?”
“I’m not sure.”
~~~~~~~~
Later in the day, you retired to your bedroom, after spending a few hours training with Nesta and Cassian. You loosed a sigh of relief and contentment as you settled into a warm bath, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus wafting through the air.
Normally, a bath would be enough to relax you, and calm your thoughts. But Azriel weighed heavily on your mind. As did your conversation with Mor.
Half an hour passed by, filled with overthinking. Scowling, you rose from the bathtub, wrapping a towel around your form, and headed into your bedroom.
Before you could enter your closet, a knock sounded on your door. You didn’t need to hear his voice to know who it was.
“Y/n.” Azriel called from the hall. “Can I come in?”
You replaced the towel with a silk robe, and sat on the edge of your bed. “Come in.”
Azriel silently entered your room, his shadows much more active than normal. The shadows only behaved that way when he spent time with Elain—they disappeared in her presence.
Yet the shadows reveled in yours.
If the shadows weren’t hint enough as to where Azriel had been earlier in the day, Elain’s flowery scent ensnared your senses. You swallowed down bile.
The Shadowsinger cleared his throat, leaning back against the dresser that stood against the wall, a few feet away from you.
“Did you need something?” You asked him.
Azriel chuckled. “Do I need an excuse to see you?”
You fidgeted with your hands. “I have things to do, so…”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” Azriel replied, taking a step forward. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the tanned, muscular chest beneath, and the black, swirling tattoos that marked his skin. “I just wanted to check on you.”
“How kind.” You didn’t bother hiding the annoyance you felt.
“Did I do something wrong?”
You snorted. “Why are you so hot and cold with me? One moment, you’re trying to get me into your bed, and the next, you’re ignoring me for weeks at a time. Why?”
“I have other responsibilities to attend to outside of our friendship.”
You knew those ‘responsibilities’ likely included time spent with Elain. But you didn’t voice that.
Azriel continued, “You know, you can come to me, too. It doesn’t always have to be me who initiates conversation.”
“You’re never around. You don’t tell me where you are, what you’re doing.”
“As I said, I have responsibilities,” Azriel said, before sitting on the bed beside you.
“That’s a piss-poor excuse,” you muttered, not daring to look him in the eye, despite the bond urging you to do so.
Azriel scoffed. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
At that, you whipped your head towards him. “I want my friend back. I want…” You stopped yourself before the next words could leave you.
You wanted him. Wanted—needed more than friendship. You needed your mate. But instead, you repeated, “I want my friend back.”
“You have me,” Azriel said, reaching a hand to cup your face.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he swiped his thumb over your cheekbone. Damn him.
Part of you wanted to protest—to push him away. But each time he touched you, it felt as though every broken piece of you was being put back into place.
“You have me,” Azriel murmured again, brushing his lips against your forehead. He placed a soft kiss to each of your cheeks before his lips melded to your own.
Elain’s flowery scent filled your nose once again, yanking you back into reality. You abruptly broke away from the kiss, rising to your feet.
“Y-You should leave,” you sputtered out, furiously readjusting your hair, your robe.
“Do you not want to…?” Azriel let the question hang as he too, stood from your bed.
“Are you serious?” You spat the question. The casualness in his words, his actions sent you into a white-hot, blind rage. “Not when I can smell Elain all over you.”
Azriel stiffened, but didn’t respond.
You laughed, but the sound was devoid of any humor. “I don’t know what I was even thinking.”
The bond. It had to be the bond, making you forget yourself with him. He still smelled like Elain, for fuck’s sake. For that alone, you would’ve sent lesser males running.
“It always comes back to Elain,” Azriel said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Shouldn’t it? How can you—do you even understand what you’re doing to me?”
Azriel looked taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth, coming short of a reply.
You debated simply kicking Azriel out of your room, and leaving it at that. But all the emotions of the last several weeks came bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over. So you let the words fly out, consequences he damned.
“You are hurting me, Azriel. You—each time you come to me, only to turn around and go to Elain? That fucking hurts. It’s confusing, and I don’t deserve it.”
You loosed a breath, continuing, “I don’t know what you do with her. I don’t know what you feel for her. I don’t care anymore. Just leave me out of it, because it’s hurting me.”
You braced yourself. Braced yourself for a screaming match; an argument. Part of you thought that maybe he’d even laugh at you.
Instead, Azriel merely walked out of your room in silence.
That was far worse.
~~~~~~~~
“What’s got Azriel so pissed off?” Cassian asked you from where he stood on the balcony, nursing a mug of coffee.
“Y/n put him in his place last night,” Nesta interjected, her voice lined with amusement. “Poor Illyrian baby couldn’t take it.”
Cassian grinned. “Rhysie will have a field day when he hears about this.”
You rolled your eyes, staring down at the glass of water in your hands. “Yes, laugh at my turmoil,” you muttered sarcastically.
Nesta and Cassian shared a laugh at that, before the former patted your back comfortingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll go to Rita’s tonight and make you forget all about it.”
~~~~~~~~
Unfortunately, Nesta’s idea of “making you forget all about it” included her running off with Cassian into the bathroom after an entire thirty minutes at Rita’s, leaving you alone at your booth, stone-cold sober and mildly annoyed.
After another ten minutes of sitting alone like an outcast, you were prepared to call it quits.
That was, until Eris Vanserra slid into the seat across from you, two mixed drinks in hand.
“Y/n,” he greeted with a smirk, sliding you one of the drinks. “It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough,” you muttered as you took a large swig from your glass.
Eris chuckled, amusement lining his expression. “Always the charmer. How’ve you been?”
“I’m fine. What are you doing in Velaris?”
“Tsk. Not even going to ask how I’m doing?”
You stared.
Eris sighed dramatically, though you noticed his lips twitching up in a smile. “Alright. I’m here for a few days. Just visiting.”
“I highly doubt you’re ‘just visiting.’”
“Believe what you want.” Eris mused, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands. He studied you for a moment, before adding, “You seemed a bit lonely. No males around to warm your bed?”
You took another gulp of your drink. “My bed is of no concern to you.”
Eris grinned, undeterred by your disinterest. “Come on. Loosen up. Play with me.”
Perhaps it was the alcohol kicking in a bit sooner than normal. Or perhaps it was your determination to get Azriel off of your mind. You didn’t particularly care to find out as you replied, “What do I get if I do?”
Eris’s grin became feline. “Whatever you want.”
~~~~~~~~
The first thing that greeted you when you awoke the next morning was a pounding headache. You were never drinking again.
Your grogginess quickly eddied into panic as you realized Eris was sleeping beside you. If you pulled away the blanket that covered the lower half of his form, you were almost certain he’d be—
“It’s not polite to stare,” Eris murmured tiredly, his abs rippling as he sat up in bed, the blanket that previously covered his form sliding away.
You quickly averted your gaze, and rose from the bed, throwing on the nearest piece of clothing.
“My shirt looks lovely on you,” Eris mused, still lounging on your bed as though he owned it.
Your cheeks flushed. You cleared you throat, attempting to find any amount of dignity within yourself as you said, “You should probably leave.”
Eris chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t overstay my welcome.” He stood from the bed, and dressed himself. You prepared to return his shirt, but he halted you. “It looks better on you. Keep it.”
You cursed yourself as your cheeks flushed an even deeper color.
“I have to return home this afternoon,” Eris explained as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if you ever want a repeat of last night…”
You gave him a pointed look. “Eris, as much as I enjoyed—“
“Oh, I know you enjoyed it. Multiple times. You were quite vocal in showing it.”
“As much as I enjoyed it,” you began again with slight annoyance, “I think it best that we don’t do this again.”
Eris shrugged, unfazed. “That’s fine. You were a lot of fun,” he replied as he prepared to leave your room. “For what it’s worth, though, you are…nice to be around.”
You supposed that was the closest you were getting to a compliment from him.
You opened your mouth to respond, but Eris left before you could.
~~~~~~~~
The coffee you drank was a welcome remedy for your headache. Tiredness still gnawed at you from where you sat at the dining table, allowing your thoughts to wander.
You didn’t particularly regret last night. Eris was…fun. A distraction, even. Perhaps you’d take him up on his offer, in the future.
“Next time you bring a male over, at least have the decency to sneak him out,” Azriel said from behind you, his face frozen with rage.
You laughed. Laughed, to your own surprise. “I dealt with centuries of you, Mor, and Cassian bringing people home. Cope.”
The finality in your tone seemed to piss Azriel off even more. “You even smell like him, for Cauldron’s sake.”
It was then that you realized you still wore Eris’s shirt. Again, you didn’t particularly care. “Good,” you spat out as you stood from your chair. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel when you smell like Elain.”
“Did you fuck him?”
You weren’t sure why he asked. He already knew the answer.
“What does it matter?”
“Did you?”
“Did you fuck Elain?”
Azriel went silent.
“Allow me to make one thing clear, Azriel,” you started, taking a step closer to him. “I am not yours. You are not mine. What I do, with anyone, is none of your business. Just as what you do, is no concern of mine.”
You ignored the way the bond hammered against your chest in protest. The way you could feel his hurt surging through you like a tidal wave. Good. Let him feel what you’ve felt for months, now.
Azriel didn’t respond. Typical.
You started to leave, but Azriel’s next words had your breath catching short in your lungs.
“I know about the bond.”
You weren’t breathing. It felt as though the floor had been swept out from under you.
You turned back around, facing him. “What?”
“I’ve known for almost a year.”
A year. He’s known longer than you have.
You couldn’t bring yourself to form a proper response—you could hardly think over the roaring in your head.“Then why would you—Elain—what?”
Azriel took a step forward, to which you immediately stepped back.
Azriel began, “There is no excuse—“
“You’re right,” you sneered, “there is no excuse.”
“I’m sorry—“
“Save it.”
Azriel’s throat bobbed. He reached out a hand, as if to caress your face. “Y/n—“
“Do not presume to touch me. Ever again.”
You hurried out of the dining room before you could further register the anguish on Azriel’s face.
The bond made you feel it all, anyway.
~~~~~~~~
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Heat haze ft Morax + fem!bunny adeptus!reader
cw/tags: heat/mating cycles, marathon sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, sex toy, improper use of geo (lmao), Morax has a dragon penis, pet names, fucked stupid, reader calls Morax "My Lord" and Morax calls her "my child", power play??
notes: Pure self-indulgent filth <3 I love the concept of heats in general and though on applying that to adepti, then I remembered it's bunny year so why not... apparently there is a bunny in chinese mythology called the "Jade Rabbit" who serves the Moon Goddess soooo. Anyway. Breeding kink goes brrrrrr.
“M-my lord... I’m sorry I’m ah-” You gulp and try to breathe through your mouth, fingers clenching and unclenching trying to regain some semblance of stability. “I’m not feeling very… well”
Shameful. Lord Morax came to see you, probably talk about important matters regarding this year’s crops and yet-
“Is this your first heat alone?”
Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn, on instinct you look up panicked as your long ears stiffen in shock but just as quickly you avert your gaze, unable to look at him in the face at the revelation, and to avoid staring at his regal visage, fearful of your own reactions if you were to do so.
Oh he knows. He knows. Of course he knows. As much as you tried to suppress it your scent is probably dripping with want, especially when your thoughts were spiraling out of control mere minutes ago. Being an adeptus in heat is hard enough, but as a Jade Rabbit… it was especially hard on you.
You blink heavily, dumbly, your brain can’t keep up with all the emotions right now. You feel lightheaded but still manage to force out an answer. “N-No… no, I’m… used to it.”
Morax tilts his head and the light catches on his majestic antlers making them glow, and you find it impossible not to look “Of course.” He nods, still keeping immaculate composure. “But haven’t you found a mate yet?”
A mate. Your rabbit ears droop. Ever since you vowed to serve Lord Morax you never had time for such things, with the on-going war and protecting the humans, even as a non-combatant adeptus your duties were many. Agricultural care and development, medical support, logistics… you never had it in you to find a mate. You were devoted to your contract, and, to Lord Morax himself.
“I’m… I haven’t found the r-right one yet…” You mumble, hugging yourself and rubbing at your arm nervously in an attempt to mimic something.
“Oh my child, I’m sorry.” Morax approaches you and tentatively cups your cheek, fingers barely caressing your jaw, the touch is fleeting yet electric.
His hand is warm.
You unconsciously lean into the touch.
And he smells so good, so good.
“I could assist you, if you would allow it.”
You immediately flinch back at the words.
“W-what?!”
Morax simply blinks at you and crosses his arms, putting some distance between you two again. “I apologize if my advances are unwelcome.”
“No my lord it’s n-not that.” You can’t help but stare at his strong biceps, blackened skin accented by fine gold linings…
You try to control your breathing and think! Rationally!!
But still, you’re curious. What would it be like? To feel your God’s scent, your God’s touch, your God’s co-
You quickly shake your head. No, no! That’s indecent, scandalous! You’re not worthy, that’s…
“It’s okay, my child.”
The warm touch is back, hands placed at your shoulders, grounding you, stabilizing you. A shiver runs down your spine yet it doesn’t freeze you on the spot, rather it feels…
Tender.
You stare up at him and this time hold your gaze. He’s handsome and his eyes are the purest brightest molten gold you've ever seen, the bright diamond pupils mesmerizing.
You whine and rub your thighs together on instinct.
“My Lord… p-please…”
-----------------------------------------------------------
“Ha-aahh… f-faster, please my Lord please- Ah-! Faster!”
You’re reduced to a babbling, moaning, drooling mess as you lay on golden silk sheets. Head down ass up, your arms have long since given up supporting you and your thighs tremble as Morax rams into your dripping wet pussy over and over and over again.
He lets out a low chuckle “So tight…” He whispers, voice deep and raspy with sex haze, the scent of your heat spurring him on and causing his own illuminated beast features to manifest, such as his powerful tail undulating behind him. “You’re practically dripping all over the place, and yet you take me so well…” his breath stutters with another snap of his hips and all you can do is moan loudly, mind foggy with need.
“Oh…” You gasp. “Oh.”
Without pause, he’s slamming into you repeatedly, pulling you down on his perfect thick cock and fucking fast methodical thrusts into you wet hole, aiming for a certain spot that has you seeing stars once he finds it.
“Ah! Ah… Ah!” Your voice barely registers through your own lust-hazed mind. Tears prickling at the corner of your eyes from the rapid buildup in your lower abdomen. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already came, your juices coating your inner thighs and soiling the precious silken sheets. Not that he seems to mind. “O-Oh… Ohhhh. My Lord… M-Morax…”
You’re pretty sure your God has ruined you for anyone else. No mortal or immortal would ever be able to compare to his divine cock, deliciously thick and filling, the dragon shaft lined with small ridges that rub just right against your insides and so utterly big you swear you can feel a slight bump on your navel every time he bottoms out.
You keen and whine when his strong clawed hands pull at your hips. Seems like your legs are also giving up on you so he holds you in place instead. And you love it. His musky scent. His smooth deep voice. His unfaltering stamina.
The Prime of the Adepti. A strong and virile dragon.
And he chose to mate you.
Suddenly you feel him drape over your back, his larger frame practically caging you, pressing against you until his chest meets your sweaty back and you feel his ragged breath against your neck, scenting you and your heat pheromones before sharp fangs graze your tender skin.
You moan and your pussy clamps down on him. You are so close….
“You feel amazing.” He growls. “So good... s-so good for me.”
You buck your hips up to him, clumsily meeting his thrusts as your small fluffy tail twitches. “Nnngh!”
You feel him bite at your shoulder and the sharp jolt of pain is enough to send you spiraling into another climax, moaning high-pitched and gripping him tighter inside you even as he fucked into your slick warmth. Despite the orgasm he shows no signs of slowing down, so neither do you, as the unbearable heat continues to burn inside you, an itch you can’t quite scratch. His hands reach out for your skin, caressing your soft breasts and marveling at how beautifully they fit into his hands. He rubs circles into one of your nipples before pinching it lightly and is rewarded with another high keen and a spasm around his cock.
“P-Please… please… I need it. Please-” You pant, voice laced with desperation, your nails digging into the bedsheets.
“What do you want?” Morax asks, nosing at your neck and lapping at the reddened bite mark he branded into your skin. “Tell me what you need, little one.”
“Breed me!” You choke out “F-Fill me up Lord Morax, I need you to… fuck m-me full, pleasepleaseplease-”
And how could he deny such a sweet plea? Morax redoubles his efforts, panting with exertion and pushing harder, faster, deeper. Shrill little gasps escaping you as your mind goes blank from the pleasure.
“Hah- I’ll breed you properly… mhh… fill you up.” He pants, his pace getting sloppier, his tail trashing wildly, you feel him twitch inside you. “You’re all mine. Mine to take… to fuck, to own, to breed-”
Morax’s breath hitches and he lets out a choked groan, spilling his load inside you in thick creamy spurts as you keen and squirm under him, too fucked stupid for words. You coo happily as the heat under your skin finally abates and you feel full, so full of his seed.
His grip loosens as his hips gradually slow down, head hung low as he catches his breath, his cock occasionally twitching inside you until it eventually softens. He gently pulls out admiring the way your pussy clenches on him, the way your legs shake, weakly trying to lock him there, keep him inside you. The drag and pull of his thick cockhead over your sensitive insides making you keen and whimper from its abuse until your pliant body falls onto the sheets, whining pitifully when you feel his slick seed dribble out of your swollen pussy. You try to close your legs and weakly paw at your core.
No, no, no… it’s supposed to stay inside. Lord Morax’s precious cum-
You squeak as you feel something smooth and solid press against your pussy lips.
“Shhh my dear, shhh.” He coos at you, deep voice soothing your frazzled nerves. “This is just a little something to keep it in, to keep you full.” He pushes gently, working what you now realize was a cor lapis plug into your body. You made another whimpering noise as your lips parted for the toy he’d created for you. Red, puffy pussy folds spread open as they did for his cock, taking the tip before he worked the rest until it finally sunk in, lewdly resting against your opening, a glittering orange gemstone keeping you full. “There, nice and snug, do you like it?”
Your only answer is a little chirp, your eyes half-lidded as your body relaxes.
“Such a good little bunny. You were so good to me my child, so good.” You smile drowsily at the praise, cooing at him as his hand pets your hair and scratches your fuzzy ear. He kisses at your shoulder and starts softly massaging your aching limbs “You were beautiful. You did so well, you took me so perfectly…”
You lean into his touch, curling up to his body, both of you still damp with sweat and other fluids. Resting for now until another wave of neediness hits you.
You both knew your heat would last at least other 4 days…
You idly wonder if by the end of the week you would be honored with carrying his offspring.
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Interesting Alastor Insights
I think I may have figured out what was up Alastor’s ass in Dead Beat Dad. On one hand it may be a deeper issue that I am missing some context for, but I actually think it’s a little simpler then we think.
Even before Lucifer arrived, Alastor was clearly not happy about him coming over, and yes Alastor was 100% full of shit in the dad off song, BUT! Something note worthy is that he was not only being possessive of the Hotel (claiming to be its host and even greeting Lucifer as the master of the house does) but is also weirdly possessive of Charlie
And right down to the “fuck you” to Lucifer’s face it was projecting “get your feet off of my damn coffee table and get outta my house” energy. At first I was wondering what crawled up Alastor’s ass and died, and then Hell’s greatest Dad starts playing and..
“Who’s been faithful as a Nun? Who’s been here since day one?”
And it dawned on me and I was like “Alastor, why are you acting like your being replaced?” And Charlie is just as confused at Alastor’s behavior, like this came out of nowhere. Apparently Alastor was determined to show Lucifer who the Genie of this bottle is. But I didn’t believe it at first, I was like “nah it has to be something else” but then Mimzy gave some VARY interesting insight
When Mimzy first arrived, Alastor has a look that says (oh this is all I need right now) but he still seems happy to see her
Like holy shit, he happily reciprocates the hug, but that’s not to surprising if you know who Mimzy is if you have been fallowing Viv for a while
When she mentioned that he frequented the club (speakeasy)that she preformed in I was like “oh! They are drinking buddies!” Drinking Buddies are someone you generally only know the fun side of because you only hang out together at the bar, but Mimzy highlights a different side to their relationship
“Put on some Jazz, and pour a few fingers of Rye, and he becomes a kitten”
This gives me insight that while they were alive, she wasn’t just his drinking buddy and dance partner, she was his comfort zone. The way she phrased this sentence, made it sound like this was something she used to do for Alastor when they were alive, maybe she was a soothing presence as well as an entertaining one in Alastor’s life. But bar friends can sometimes be pretty high maintenance friends outside the bar, actually I think a lot of us have had something close to a friend like Mimzy in our lives. Apparently she is so bad that even Husk is concerned enough about Alastor to try and talk to him about her
“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something. That bitch is trouble, and who knows what demon she fucked with to come running to you this time”
Alastor’s response threw me for a loop
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t worry Husker, who would cross me?”
So Alastor is not immune to having toxic friends? I always assumed he would just drop anyone who became to much trouble, this is an interesting surprise. And on top of that he’s…an enabler!? Huh…that is super interesting to know. Putting a pin in the rest of this interaction for another post because there is a lot to unpack with husk and alastor. Except for the being on a leash thing because it made me realize something.
What if the reason he felt upstaged by Lucifer was not because Lilith told him to keep him away (yeah I am subscribing to the Lilith theory, it’s to much to Be a coincidence) but because he is legitimately afraid of no longer being needed by Charlie? What if, if he isn’t needed by Charlie then he has to go back to wherever he was the last 7 years? Everyone assumes he is free because he acts as such, but is he? Like real question, what if he was a straight up gift to Charlie in a way? Even if it was a “look after my daughter” command I would still call that sending a gift.
And oh man, what if he was suppose to tell the whole truth to Charlie but gave the whole, “I am here for entertainment” speech instead.
And your probably thinking, Charlie wouldn’t tell him to leave. Yeah but does Alastor know that? And he probably thinks Lilith might call him back anyway if he is not needed but just hanging out. But as we have seen, he cant even except his own situation
I will unpack this whole encounter later, but for real I don’t even think he is that mad at husk, he was mad at the reminder that his soul doesn’t belong to him any more. Like look at his face, it’s the most upset we have ever seen him, and it’s so detailed. He looks enraged, but also hurt at the same time. He and Charlie are not friends, yet, but I think he does feel some what safe at the hotel and maybe that’s enough for now
I also think there is some stock in Alastor hating that Lucifer is a bad dad theory, because that contempt was so raw and he did calm the fuck down a little bit during the “more then anything” song
But those are my random insights of Alastor, there were more but this is already to long I just hope it’s coherent
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✧Extra Benefits✧
In which you treat Eren to some of the other benefits of your arrangement, and he gladly returns the favor.
♡ content: eren jaeger x fem!reader. one shot. modern au, friends with benefits, casual sex, smut & fluff, massaging, oral sex (f!receiving) in the shower, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, you're both little sluts, hickeys, brief mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. 18+
♡ word count: ~5.3k
♡ a/n: i swoon the idea of lovin' on an intimacy-starved man
You busy? Work was ass. Up to showering together?
You only had to read the text once. It wasn’t that hard to decipher.
It was the polite way of asking, ‘You up for some shower sex?’ To which your answer was always the same, whether a shower was involved or not.
Yes.
It was Friday night. You had spent the majority of it locked away in your apartment, dedicating hours to wining and dining yourself while gorging on trashy television. The place was tidy, your belly full, and the flame to your favorite candle lit the room with just its flicker. It was perfect. Your own slice of heaven, you imagined.
Part of you wanted to keep the night as it was—quiet. But you couldn’t complain if this already indulgent evening ended with some casual, not to mention really good, sex. You should probably start to clean up dinner.
His name was Eren, by the way. The friend-with-benefits. The fuckbuddy. Whatever you wished to call him.
You met him in one of those friend-of-a-friend situations a while back. Once at a dinner, and a second time at Sasha’s birthday party. You thought he was cute, but you weren’t obvious about it. At least, you tried not to be obvious about it, but then again, you ended up here, didn’t you?
Seriously, though. Eren was the type of guy that’s distractingly good-looking. Like, ‘Where in the world did you come from?’ sort of gorgeous, you know?
Anyway, you had apparently spoken enough for him to recognize you on the third go-around. This time, at a bar and without the buffer of mutual friends. You were out with your own circle, him with his, and he was still ballsy enough to approach you. He slid over to you in that come here often way and bought you a drink before you had the chance to turn him down (which, to be clear, wouldn’t have happened).
He was so quick about it, so smooth, and yet you couldn’t help but wonder what took him so damn long; he could have had you in his bed the first time you met, if you were honest.
Eren was nice. Nice enough that you stayed out together until the bars closed. But he was more than nice, he was charming, that was for sure. You liked how he kept you close and asked if you’d like another drink before yours could empty, as if there were someone bold enough to swoop in with Eren prowling around you.
You didn’t know how seriously you should take him, partly because you were sure he wasn’t taking you very seriously either. But that was good. That was what you were looking for. Something unserious with someone who knew what they were doing. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Eren fit the bill, smiling at you, all big and bright, as if he wasn’t fully aware that it was panty-dropping worthy. You couldn’t stand it.
So, as one could easily predict, you went back to his apartment. And yes, you fucked. After, Eren asked for your number. You prided yourself on it, even if he did go about it cheekily, rattling off something along the lines of 'We should do that again sometime.' You couldn’t exactly remember. But you had to admit it: after the second time, you were the one to suggest it become a regular thing, no strings attached.
And it had been just like this for the last three months.
Eren gave you enough time to put away dinner and get the dishes into the sink. You were even left with a few minutes to freshen up. Not too much since you’d be showering, but you brushed your teeth at least. You didn’t bother to change, opting to stay in your sleep shorts and tank. They’d soon be on the floor.
You checked the time when you heard Eren knock. 9:03 p.m. You only noted it because he was still dressed for work when you opened the door, though his tie was hung rather loosely around his neck.
You didn’t have a moment to question it—or to close the door—because his lips had already crashed onto yours, his hands cupping your cheeks in an instant. He took a few steps inside, walking you along with him, and pressed you up against the wall.
You froze. All but your lips, of course. You were swept up in his presence. His rough hands on your face, lips moving against yours and ridden with greed. You could still smell his cologne, faint and mixed with him, but it was still there. It was a scent you could only describe as masculine.
You decidedly broke the kiss, offering only a peck between your words as you chuckled, “Hello to you, too.”
Eren stared down at you, eyes heavy, his expression dull. “Sorry. Just needed you.” He caught himself. “Not like that.”
You didn’t tease him for it because you understood what he meant by it. That was the whole reason you were doing this, right? Life was fucking stressful enough as it was, so why did sex have to be, too?
You lightly pushed on his arm to reach past him and toward the front door. “Let’s not give my neighbors a show this time, okay?”
He smiled. You expected more, at least a short laugh through his nose, because there was a story there. One that you didn't have the time to get into now.
With the door shut and locked, you kissed him this time. He kissed back, but it was rigid, forced. Like he was there but wasn’t really there, if that made sense. You've had sex with him after a bad day before, on plenty of occasions, too. That was some of the best sex you'd ever had, the occasions when he fucked you without restraint, but this was different.
You scanned his face. The only meaningful thing you could conclude was, “You look exhausted.” You weren’t sure if you meant to say it aloud.
It was true, though. His eyes were sullen. The vibrancy they normally sported had vanished. He didn’t address it, instead brushing off your comment. “I’m fine. Just a long week at work.”
You decided not to ask any questions. That wasn’t a part of the arrangement you had going on. You each were here for one purpose, and one purpose only: to get each other off. And that was why when Eren went to kiss you again, you reminded yourself there wasn’t any use in prying, and you let him.
Eren kept you against the wall, your arms strewn around his neck to hold him there with you. His large hands smoothed down your sides. They curved over your hips with authority, rolling them against him, using you to get himself hard. It was working. You could feel his cock stiffen with every tilt of your hips. It stole a tiny moan from you, and Eren seized the opportunity to swipe his tongue against yours.
You brought a hand to the back of his neck, toying with his hair—barely tied back and looking like it had gone untouched since this morning—then down the collar of his shirt. You blindly attempted to undo his tie, but as you trailed over the crook of his neck, just where it met his shoulder, you noticed how tense he felt. The muscle barely gave when you rubbed over it with your thumb. Even so, you heard the little groan at the bottom of Eren’s throat, his head lolling to the other side.
The poor guy needed a break. From what, you didn’t know, but one was certainly called for.
You knew you weren’t supposed to care, but you weren’t heartless either. And while your relationship relied more on the benefits than your friendship, that wasn’t to say you didn’t like him.
For what it was worth, you got along with Eren quite well. It came with the territory, you supposed, as it was easy to learn a thing or two about a person after seeing them a shameful number of times a week (a number you wouldn’t disclose), even if it was just for sex.
Well, there was an occasional sleepover. Here or there, and reserved solely for those late-night booty calls. You mutually decided it didn’t break the rules so long as no cuddling was involved.
The first time Eren slept over, you remembered him deadpanning, "Do I look like someone that wants to cuddle?" after you said he had to stay on his side of the bed. To be honest, he did look like a cuddler, and you told him just that. You called him a big softie, to which he only rolled his eyes. You had since discovered that was a sassy habit of his.
Truthfully, you’d argue you learn even more about a person this way. Fucking—just fucking—was nothing like dating. There wasn’t any shame in it. You didn’t need to act coy and you could ask each other for exactly what you wanted. Pull my hair. Talk to me—dirtier. You know the drill. Plus, you learned Eren liked some interesting positions.
All that was to say, it was comfortable. You and Eren were comfortable. So you didn’t think he’d find it strange when you pulled back from the kiss and told him, “I have an idea.”
You led him back to your bedroom, not the bathroom, and asked him to strip. “Down to your underwear.”
Eren looked at you with cautious curiosity, then started to take off his tie. His shirt next. He had the first two buttons unfastened when a smile poked at the corner of his lips. He appeared more like himself again when he glanced over to you.
“You sure you want me to leave the boxers on?”
You shot him some daggers—albeit playful ones—and said, “Yes.” As you left, you added, “And lie on the bed. Face down.”
“Kinky.”
You ignored it; your turn to return his infamous eye roll, even if he didn’t get to see it.
You were only gone for a flash. When you returned, a bottle of lotion in hand, Eren had undressed, his nice slacks reduced to a pile on your rug, but he remained at the edge of your bed.
“What happened to our shower?” he asked in somewhat of a pout. His eyes narrowed once he noticed the lotion. As boyishly as ever, he questioned, “Don’t you have lube?”
You pointed past him and over to the pillows. “Lie down.”
You should have assumed getting Eren to listen would be an uphill battle for you. But to your surprise, after one last scrutinizing look, he conceded. He was reluctant, but he turned to lie on his stomach, somehow making your bed look small.
Any other day, he would have put up more of a fight, you were sure. Eren needed to be in control like that. The domineering type, always scoffing at your pitiful attempts at pinning him down. Even if you were on top, it was only because he had put you there, holding you into place for him to fuck up into.
It’d bother you if it didn’t suit him so goddamn well. He wore it like a fine accessory—something he could pair with his favorite fitted tee and get just about anyone to bend to his will.
So seeing him like this, vulnerable in just his black boxer briefs—well, you couldn't help but chuckle.
Eren’s head poked up. “Don’t laugh.”
You didn’t hide it when you giggled again, walking up the length of the bed on your knees. And just as he was about to snark at you for laughing, seconds away from flipping over and tapping out, you straddled him with his lower back between your thighs.
“Oh, hush,” you said, nudging him back into the pillows.
You took some lotion into your hands. Lavender and vanilla. You expected a snide remark about the girly scent, but he stayed silent.
The lotion was cold, and you did your best to warm it between your hands before you brought them to Eren’s shoulders. He shuddered at the feeling—whether it was the chill or the foreignness, you didn’t know—but as you put your hands to work, he practically melted into the billows of your duvet.
Eren’s voice sounded smushed against the pillows when he said, “You really don’t have to do this.” The sound that followed, the weight in his exhale, said otherwise, right as your thumb dug into the divot of his shoulder blade.
It was nothing you wouldn’t do for a friend. You had done it for friends, in fact. Perhaps that was why you felt so comfortable with it, even if he did have a much nicer back than anyone else you’ve had in this position.
You smiled to yourself. “Don’t worry about it. Figured you could use this more than a blowjob, anyway.”
“I mean—”
“Don’t push it.”
Eren chuckled, but it faded as soon as your fingers traveled higher, pressing against his neck.
You massaged from there, taking your sweet time before continuing toward the middle of his back. When your hands strained, you'd bridge every break by grazing your nails up and down his tanned skin. It was funny almost, how you had seen so much of him, but you never had admired his back before. When would you have had the chance?
From here, you could study the grooves of every muscle and each angle of his bones. Beneath your palms, he was smooth and warm—why was it that men always ran so hot? Like your own personal space heater or something.
While you were busy thinking about that, Eren wondered if he should try and stop you. If he wasn’t so tired, he would have. That was what he told himself.
Of course, this wasn’t what he came here for, but he couldn’t bring himself to end it—to roll you over, fuck you, and fulfill the underlying promise to this visit. At least, not right now. Your dainty fingers prodded at him with precision, keen knuckles hitting just the right spot. For what was maybe the first time ever, sex was the last thing on his mind.
Eren didn’t know how to feel about it, or even if he should feel anything toward it. He didn’t know what to do with it—with this—at all. He found an unfamiliar comfort in it. After countless years and meaningless relationships, he couldn’t recall a time when his stress had been named and taken into someone else’s hands—quite literally. It was kneaded away with the heels of your palms. A pair of hands that touched him but didn’t ask anything of him. Not taking what you wanted from him, but giving, freely and of your own accord.
It was intimate. It was something Eren realized he had never truly experienced before. Surely, it must cross one of those imaginary lines you had drawn in the sand so haphazardly together. But before he could think on it any longer, he was fast asleep. Out cold.
You only noticed when his soft sounds whittled into steady, silent breaths. You peeked around to check and found that his eyes, barely visible behind his hair, loose strands quivering with every exhale, were shut without as much as a flutter.
You stood from the bed then. Satisfied with your work and thinking it best to leave him be, you tossed a blanket over him before closing the door behind you.
You returned to your night, exactly where you had left it. You went back for that pint of ice cream you had saved for dessert, entirely unbothered as you cozied up into your nook on the couch.
About an hour or so had passed, with you an episode and a half deep into your show, when Eren reminded you he was still there with nothing more than the creaking of your bedroom door.
You held back your pestering ‘Morning, sleepy head’ comment when he emerged from your hallway, comparable to some sort of nocturnal animal, lazily dressed in his clothes again.
He immediately apologized, “I am so sorry.” Extra emphasis on that ‘so.’
You figured he might react like this, knowing he was the prideful type and whatnot, but he looked more like a kicked puppy than the man that fucked you senselessly on the regular. Up until now, you didn’t think he even had any sense of shame.
You turned to him, handing him your full attention, and assured, “It’s fine! It happens!” It sounded a little fake, so you toned it down. “Really. It’s no big deal. You must have needed it.”
There was a pause, a long stare, and then Eren finally said, “I’ll get going. I shouldn’t have—”
“I’d still be up for that shower,” you chimed, interrupting him before he talked himself into a weird, uncomfortable hole. “If you are.”
Eren had a look on his face like he didn’t hear you correctly. How could you possibly still have any interest after he dropped by, borderline unannounced, on a Friday night only to nap in your bed? There was a fleeting moment, just as he was dressing, he believed you wouldn’t want to see him again. He was pissed at himself, thinking he screwed up a situationship that was practically handed down to him by God himself.
But he didn’t think of it any longer because, right now—with that way you were eyeing him—he was only grateful. He watched you push yourself up from the couch, too-knowingly, because you already knew his answer.
Fuck. Eren shoved his humiliation aside, just for now. He sighed, long but sharp, like you had vanquished him with a siren call. “Why not?”
The next thing you knew, Eren had you on the bathroom counter, thighs spread with him nestled between, swapping kisses to pass the time while the shower heated up.
He yanked your tank top over your head, and you made even quicker work of his button-down. Each fell to the floor, pooling at Eren’s feet. Piece after piece, until there was nothing left between you.
For someone that tossed you a measly, ‘Why not?’ he sure was pretty eager.
He kissed you deeply, with one hand around the nape of your neck, holding you still for him, while his other caressed your breast. He had your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching the sensitive skin until you tipped your head back with a mewl, offering him the expanse of your neck.
Eren obliged, sloppily licking and sucking the side of your throat. Like the efficient fuckbuddy he was, he had memorized where you liked for him to kiss. It wasn't rock science. The closer he was to that spot—the dip behind your ear—the needier you became. He knew you liked it even more when he nipped at it, so he did just that.
"No hickeys," you warned on a wanton breath.
Another rule. One that Eren often wrote off, but only because you were just as lenient with it. And tonight was no exception. When he began to bruise the delicate skin, small purrs of pleasure snuck past your lips. You clung to him then, your nails piercing into his shoulders—into the muscles you had just tended.
You wanted him to pull you down onto his cock right then, to bounce you against him over and over, and fuck you like making you come was the only cure to his awful week.
But he didn't. You felt his breath at your ear as he took the lobe between his teeth, murmuring to you, "Shower. Now."
Eren whisked you off the counter and over to the shower. He slid the glass door open for you to hop inside first. Like a true gentleman, and definitely not because he wanted to smack your ass on the way in. He’d never do that.
The water was hot, its steam thick and swirling around you. You let it run down your back as you kissed Eren again, wet mouths and hands slipping against each other’s bare flesh.
Once again, the purpose here was to get off, not to get clean. You had done this before, experienced the fumbling and falling, and lived to tell the tale, so you knew already which positions worked.
You slid your hand down the ridges of his stomach, gliding your hand over his cock effortlessly, thanks to the water, and he groaned. But when you started to turn around so he could take you from behind, he stopped you with a hand around your wrist.
“Let me,” Eren softly instructed.
You didn’t exactly know what he meant by it, but he started to kiss your neck again. Below your ear, then lower. Decorating your collarbone, and then your breasts. His mouth somehow felt warmer than even the scalding water as he took your nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. He didn’t neglect the other before wandering lower, crouching to his knees to peck at your navel and taste your hipbones.
“What’re you—”
Eren cut in. “I want to make you feel good, too.” He kissed the crease of your thigh. “That’s why I came over, right?”
It was a rhetorical question that you didn't answer. You couldn't even if you wanted to. Your words would have hitched in your throat, no greater than an embarrassing sputter, the second he pressed his lips to you. Right between your legs.
He didn’t go for it immediately, opting to bring his fingers to you before his tongue. He thumbed over your clit, letting his other fingers splay against your stomach, and began to rub deftly. You squeaked, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. He glanced up at you then, smirking, annoyingly aware of how easily he turned you to putty.
Eren dragged the pads of his fingertips down and angled his hand so he could tease at your entrance. He used only his middle finger, grazing it through you, up and down your slit. He wanted to comment on how wet you were already, but you’d say something smart back, he was sure of it. ‘We’re in the shower, dumbass.’
So when he did tease you for it—“Someone likes it when I play with her pussy, hm?”—he shut you up by pumping two fingers inside you. Your muscles fluttered around his knuckles, mouth dropping to a small ‘o’ as moans dripped from your lips.
Eren curled his fingers just right, and you felt your heel start to inch out from beneath you. It was a fight to stay upright—a caveat of the elusive shower sex.
“Fuck—right there. Don’t stop,” you panted.
He continued to fuck you with his fingers, his eyes transfixed on where they disappeared inside you, the lewd sounds of wet skin on skin, but he didn’t want to just finger you. He wanted you to come, and he wanted you to come on his tongue. He needed a taste.
Eren knew that was what you wanted, too, your hips rocking, achingly begging for more.
Another, “Don’t stop,” spilled from you.
He hummed, “I don’t know. Something tells me you want me to eat you out.”
Eren leaned in, real slow, lips ghosting over you. He slipped his fingers out of you and used them to spread you, just enough for him to lick at your clit. The heat of his tongue alone had your brain fuzzy, sparking like it could possibly short-circuit.
You immediately took hold of his head, your fingers weaving through sopping hair and searching for any support you could get. “Eren, ah—”
Even his kittenish licks, with only the tip of his tongue, had your back arching. He stabilized you with a hand on your hip. With his other, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. He could have even more of you—taste even more of you—like this, and he delved in.
His mouth closed over you, the flat of his tongue lapping at you with broad strokes. After months of practice, he was in tune with you by now. He mastered the craft of making you come, picking out the very moment his tongue becomes too much for you. Only then did he break to let the plush of his lips leave gentle, wet kisses against your clit. Each caused you to shiver, your skin prickling even in the heady temperature of your shower.
You propped yourself up with a hand against the glass door. Each time you faltered or twitched, the bathroom echoed with the indecent, smearing sound of your sweaty palm against the condensation. Slipping lower and lower until you had to smack it back into place. Then the process would repeat.
Eren’s tongue buried between you, hot, and dipping inside you. Each time, you fought the urge to rut against his face. You didn’t want to hide any of him. He looked so good there, eyes blazed and determined, his toned chest and pretty face flushed in a summer pink. You loved the telling hue, ruddy with humid lust.
He wiped his face, cleared some of the water from his eyes, before parting you with his tongue again. Every sound he pulled from you—every whimper and every shaky breath—emboldened him. You were close, he knew it, as your voice turned pitchy. Your hips spasmed; you were holding back. With his hand on your ass, fingers squeezing the fat of it, he started to maneuver you, working you over his tongue.
“Let go—that’s it. Ride my face." He spoke it against you, his voice a vibration buzzing through you, tapering off into groans once you did as you were told.
You were dizzy. The bottom of your stomach burned hotter, like blooms of fire or electricity or something else that was scorching to the touch—your thoughts were too scattered to choose. Whatever it was, you felt it at the base of your spine. You fanned it. You coaxed it out each time you helplessly rolled your hips over Eren’s mouth. It was filthy, all lips and tongue, kisses and licks, with him sucking at your clit.
His eyes never left yours. They were heavy-lidded, fighting the water that threatened to dribble past his lashes, but they were fixed on you. God, you looked so fucking sexy above him, water trickling down the valley of your breasts. Your perfect pussy could suffocate him, and he’d thank you for it.
Eren didn't need to say it; you could practically hear him. Hear the growl in his voice, the gravel of it as if his mouth was right against your ear and not stuffed between you. He wouldn't dare stop, but if his eyes could speak to you, he'd tell you—no, he'd demand that you come for him.
All at once, you tipped that edge. You cursed, your head lurching forward with your chin tucked into your chest. You had your eyes squeezed shut, so you didn’t see it but heard the clatter when your leg—the one over his shoulder—kicked a shampoo bottle to the shower floor. Neither of you even flinched, both of you wholly consumed with each other, even if it was only for this blissful blip in time.
Well, maybe a bit more than a blip. It went on longer than usual. At least, Eren thought so, and it certainly felt like it to you. Your fingers were still knotted in his hair, keeping him in place for you to use—you had actually formed a fist now. He waited for your choked breaths to drawl out into whimpers, but it never happened, so he didn't slow.
The stimulation was so much, and it was so good. You didn’t want it to stop. Lost in the daze of pleasure, its ripples of it still pulsing through you, you had Eren lick at you for as long as you desired.
Until he eventually had to come up for air. You whined at the loss, glaring at him as he swatted some water from his face and grunted, “Hold on a second unless you want me to die.”
“Keep going. Please,” you urged, driving his head back once you decided he had enough of a break.
He didn’t argue it, only continuing to do the same thing as before. The same thing that kept you coming back for more, night after night, and sometimes on the occasional lunch break.
You rode the feeling out for as long as you could, sitting on the delicious fringes that were just shy of coming undone—of becoming utterly ruined.
And when you came a second time, with Eren’s pointed tongue circling your clit, your mind went blurry to everything but the feeling. It was euphoric, radiating from your core until its warmth engulfed you like wildfire.
You yelped out his name, gasping for him in wracked sobs. Just like that, just like that. And, holy shit, was it fucking hot. Eren didn’t even mind your sudden roughness. If anything, he wanted to make you come a third time, just to hear that pathetic warble in your voice again.
But you were sensitive now. Even his gentle pecks against your clit, his laps to savor everything you’d given him, were far too much. Your leg was quivering after stretching at a cramped angle for too long and fell from his shoulder. It was a miracle you were upright, even if you were folded into the corner of the shower.
Eren stood to his feet, snickering to himself as he gave you a once-over. You looked fucked-out, with big and trembling breaths parting your lips.
“You good?” he asked. Note: this could be construed as genuine, but do not let that fool you. Eren was just that smug. You knew this because he was still grinning down at you. That smile you couldn’t stand.
Water droplets spattered your face. You smeared them away with your hands.
“Yeah,” you answered, all dreamily, or so Eren thought, only inflating his already enormous ego. “Never better.”
You both stepped into this shower well aware that neither of you held any intention of getting clean. There was no point in pretending to soap up, not with your legs starting to noodle out, so you reached for the handle to shut off the water.
You dried off, embarrassingly sat on the toilet lid because you felt more like Jell-O than human, then scrambled together a fresh t-shirt and a pair of underwear to sleep in. You resigned to your bed with a final, contented sigh, melding with the covers as if they were clouds.
Moments later, Eren returned, dressed and at your bedside. He rested a hand on your shoulder to ensure you were still awake.
“I’m going to head out,” he whispered.
“You’re tired,” you said, your voice a staggered mutter into the pillow. “Just stay.”
Eren didn’t say anything back, but he didn’t leave either. Fuck it, he said to himself. He was way too exhausted to drive.
You heard him undress, the sound of fabric slinking to the floor, for what was the third time tonight. Hopefully the last.
You slithered to the far side of the bed to make room, only lugging your favorite pillow along with you since you didn't like to share. The mattress stuttered as Eren crawled underneath the blankets, only stilling once he relaxed into the bed.
Though he maintained the space between you, you felt him drape an arm over your waist. You couldn’t guess why, but for whatever reason, you let it slide. Just for tonight.
And only when he knew you were asleep—when he was absolutely positive of it—he gifted you a faint, “Thank you.”
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Office hours
Summary: Harry Styles is your part-time boss and full-time boyfriend, which makes office hours interesting.
Word count: +2k
Content warning: fluff and sexual content and more fluff (m receiver)
masterlist
"I need these tasks by the end of the day, you think you could do that? They are urgent.” Your boss, Mr. Styles, asked you, standing against the doorframe of your office. You momentarily looked up to see the small pile of files in his hand, right before looking down at your computer screen and nodding with compliance.
"Sure. I'll start once I'm done with this."
"Good, thank you.” He flashed you a funny smile.
He found the sight in front of him quite endearing. You were so focused on whatever it was on the other side of your computer screen that your nose scrunched and the glasses that rested on top of it looked like they would slip off anytime soon. Although you were in no hurry to put them back up again.
Harry used your lack of attention to his advantage and proceeded to look behind him and around the corridor before entering your office and closing the door behind him. He left the files on one corner of your desk and walked over to your side. His hand stretched enough to grab the armrest of your chair and pull you to him, his body flexed forward so that your faces were at the same height. He had now fully entered your field of vision and the playful smirk on his lips told you he was up to no good.
"I'm working...,” you mumbled.
He chuckled, "So? It's not like l've never stolen a kiss from you at work."
You shook your head, smiling, and indicated for him to move forward.
He definitely did not make that cheeky move for just a kiss, but he was getting just that until your working hours were done.
There was no way you were risking it.
He might be your boss and so your chances of getting fire for something like that were void, but your reputation was just as important. And no woman who hooked up with her boss gave off any good impressions in the business world.
Harry did as indicated and closed the space between you two. He pressed his mouth to yours in a sweet and slow kiss that made you all giggly. Nothing quite like the touch of his lips to forget about all the excels and transactions that still required your attention. In that precise instant you wished you could give it all of it to him. Push your work aside and give all your attention to him.
When he pulled away, he had a big smile on, one of those that showed his adorable dimples, which were enough for you to want to keep on kissing him until your lips became red and sore. But you were at work, and anyone could come in at any moment and find out about you two.
That would be a disaster.
Ever since you started dating some months back, almost a year now, you knew your relationship had to be hidden or your position at the company would be compromised. Not because relationships between colleagues were forbidden, but because you had to maintain a standing that was worthy of respect, and if people knew you were involved with your boss in any kind of way, it'd be very difficult for you to do so. Harry understood that, and so he made sure to make things easy for you at work most of the time. Today being an exception, apparently.
"Let me know when you're finished. I'll be in my office waiting to drive you home," he spoke, and kissed you on your cheek before walking out of the room.
Funny how he expected you to get back to work and concentrate as if nothing after an interruption like that.
By 9:30 p.m. you were finally done. All your tasks for the day were completed, so you grabbed your purse and the folder where you always saved important files, and made your way to Harry's office.
The entire floor was empty. You two were the only ones remaining there, which was the main reason why his door was fully open.
You were about to knock on one side just to inform him you were ready to go, but stopped mid-way.
His face had that one frown he did whenever he was on his peek of concentration. The first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned; the knot of his tie undone, meaning he had been a bit under pressure for the past couple of hours.
You stayed there a few seconds, quietly taking in the image in front of you, until he noticed your stare. He smiled before lifting his face to look at you. "All done?"
"All done," you nodded and walked towards the couple of chairs that were in front of his desk.
You left your purse and the files he had previously asked you for on his table. However, instead of taking a seat, you played your uno reverse card and walked behind him. When his back was to your chest you dug your fingers on his shoulders strategically to help him release the tension you knew he was feeling. He closed his eyes almost right away, finally relaxing after a long exhausting working day.
You had barely seen each other except for when he stopped by your office, not even to grab lunch or a coffee together, but you two preferred it that way to not arose suspicion.
"I've missed you.” You passed your arms around his shoulders and placed a suggestive kiss to his cheek.
"You have?" he murmured a bit distracted, finishing typing a few things on his computer. However, no matter how busy or caught up he was in his work, he could always tell your needs and intentions. He then put the screen down and turned his body around on his swivel chair so that he could face you.
You nodded, and proceeded to sit on his lap, your legs hanging on one side of his waist. You passed an arm around his shoulders, holding yourself to him, and took the chance to play with the curls on his nape.
The palms of his hands rested on your lower back and the outside of your thigh, pulling you to him, and it didn't take you long to kiss him, this time allowing your tongues to take part. The time of the day where you two reunited and shared your company had arrived, and neither of you liked to waste any second on getting as close as possible.
So you didn't.
Your fingers buried in the back of his hair, slowly pulling at it, and when a small moan escaped from his lips you realised you got the desired effect. You moved from his lips to his neck, dragging your mouth down his exposed skin, causing him goosebumps.
"Love...," Harry warned, as you felt him getting hard under you.
"Shh," you replied, kissing him on the mouth again, this time with even more desire.
Your hands soon traveled down his shirt and cautiously rubbed his crotch, causing another moan to scape from his parted lips.
You started unbuttoning his shirt from bottom to top, until he was completely shirtless in front of you, a few of his tattoos showing off for your eyes only.
He gulped, and then grabbed you by your elbow, stopping you. By the way he was looking at you, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks blushed and his mouth slightly opened, you knew he was feeling needy.
"No games, Y/N" he mumbled in a pleading tone, meaning he wanted you to keep going only if you were willing to go all the way till the end. He was in pain, and as much as he liked when you teased him, he physically couldn't get up and leave his office just like that, not after the boner you had caused him.
"I know, baby. I'll take care of it," you assured him, and started leaving kisses on his chest and all the way down to his waist, where you unbuttoned his suit pants. He slightly lifted his hips so that you were able to pull down both his pants and boxers in one go, which ended up at his feet. His pretty thighs were uncovered in front of you and, like every time you had seen them naked, you had the urge to kiss them. They looked so strong but soft at the same time...
"Love, please" Harry begged you, needing you down there as soon as possible.
"I'm going... I'm going, baby. Let me just enjoy your thighs a bit first," you replied, giggling. He silently nodded and closed his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of your lips against his skin rather than his aching erection.
You left small wet kisses all over them, your lips softly touching his skin, while he held his breath with every touch. He liked it a lot whenever you did that, it always turned him on, but his crotch needed you so bad right there and then that he was not being able to enjoy it as much.
Noticing his desperation, you soon replaced your lips with your hands and positioned yourself between his thighs, right before looking at Harry and giving him a quick glance, letting him know you were going in. He nodded, closing his eyes and tensing a bit until he felt your lips around him. You sucked on his sensitive skin while his eyes remained closed, his hands tightly grabbing the armrests to his sides, small moans coming out of his pink lips whenever he was not biting at them. If he continued to do so he would make himself bleed.
He was not very into talking or praising while doing intimate stuff, but his body language made sure to speak on his behalf. You were always able to figure out how he was feeling, if you needed to speed it up or slow it down, just by the way the muscles on his body tensed and his chest and hips raised.
The moment you felt his thighs trembling and his abdomen contracting, you knew he was ready to come. You gave a squeeze to his knee as an indicator for him to release, and soon enough your mouth was filled with his liquid.
"Fuck," he cursed, tilting his head back and fully resting it against the back of his chair. You gulped down the remains of him. An overwhelmed smile slowly made its way to his lips. "Fuck, baby. That mouth really does wonders." You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words of fascination. "Don’t laugh, it’s true. C'mere."
"Don't know if wonders is the word, but this mouth can definitely get you off."
"You wanna know what else it should do right now?" You rose both eyebrows, wanting him to continue. "Kiss me."
You shot him a giddy smile.
You quickly helped him get cleaned up and dressed again, and then he grabbed you by your waist and sat you astraddle on his lap, where he pressed your mouths together as soon as your faces were close to one another.
You stayed there, your arms around his shoulders while his where around your back once again; your face hidden in the crook of his neck as he kissed your hair every now and then, until it got pretty late and it was time for you both to go home.
You started making your way to the exit, leaving his office behind as you walked down the hallway.
"Come sleep at mine?" Harry softly asked you. His strong hand held yours, while the other grabbed his briefcase. You turned to see him. "I wanna be able to hold you all night," he continued, and graciously pulled at your arm to bring you to him so he could mischievously whisper in your ear: "Maybe even return the favour and make you come tonight."
"Mm-hm," you nodded, stupidly smiling against his neck as you accepted the invitation.
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𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖇 𝖍𝖍 𝖝 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 Ⅱ - 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆
Prologue Chapter 3.5
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
Charlie = underlined
Y/n = normal
Both = italics
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐞
𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47
It's been 3 hours and you're already exhausted...okay well maybe not exhausted, but you were definitely bored.
You sighed, leaning your chin on your palm, as you listened to Liam go on about something, probably about how late you both were? You don't know, you stopped listening.
You glanced out the window, to see the 'busy' streets of Heaven. You were able to see what seemed to be a group of friends, laughing and talking with one another. You frowned, you wish you could be enjoying smoothies with Miko, Elijah, and Molly. They were really your only friends.
Yeah, despite being the prince of Heaven, you didn't have many friends. Part of that due, to Sera's insistence of not letting your travel far without super vision. But I suppose, trying to sneak out of heaven every chance you get to go outside is worthy of such a consequence. Well, maybe when you were younger it was an okay punishment, but you're an adult now. You don't need to be supervised like a child.
But like I said, that's only part of the reason. The second being, the friends you tried, or rather Sera forced you to try and make...felt fake. Not to say, they were twisted or two faced. They probably weren't, most likely just some overly excited heavenly resistance being able to meet the famous prince of heaven. However, that didn't mean it didn't get annoying. Whether they had good intentions or not, they made you feel an object..something pretty to ogle and admire. Like an expensive piece of art, a middle class soccer mom would buy, and hang up in the parlor to "impress" her friends, when it really it was to make them envious she was able to afford something so priceless.
It all felt fake, artificial whatever. You've grown accustomed to it, people want to be your friend but they don't want to be your friend. You've come to realize that soon enough, so your feelings wouldn't be so hurt and eventually they didn't and you've came to terms with that.
Everybody loves you, but nobody likes you.
As you were wallowing in your own self pity, you failed to notice Liam, who was desperately trying to get your attention.
"y/n.....y/n!....Y/N!!!!" You finally snapped out of it, the loud volume of Liam's voice effectively spooking you as your entire body went rigid, before you flopped to the floor like a fish.
"Oh dear! Your highness, are you alright?" The Angel cried, as he rushed to your side. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you!" He says, clealry panicking as he helped you stand up.
You rubbed the sore spot on your forehead as you mustered a pained smile, "I'm fine Liam, no need to worry about me" you patted him lightly on the shoulder to reassure him before taking a seat back on the chair.
"But I caused you harm!"
"It was an accident, Liam you're fine! I'm not about to damn your soul to hell" you say sarcastically. You were clealry joking, but apparently Liam didn't think it was very funny, as he looked genuinely distressed.
You frowned, deadpanning,"im joking"
"Oh...well it's not very funny, your highness we don't joke about those sorts of things"
"Me, Miko and Elijah do.." you huffed under your breath, unfortunately it seemed like the other angel heard you.
"Oh do they now?" He asks, if he had eyebrows he would raising them. "They're the hairdresser and the seamstress correct?". You perked up, a bit confused.
"Yeah why?"
"Well it makes sense why you're so snappy lately, I knew thsoe two were a bad influence" he says, arrogantly. Oh, yeah that pissed you off. You weren't one to get frustrated, at least publicly but this was ridiculous. He's blaming your only friends for the reason why you having a sense of humor? You frowned, crossing your arms. You knew if you snapped at him, you would have just confirmed his suspicions and you're sure he would tell Sera, then you'd probably never see Elijah or Miko again.
"Let's just move on, Liam. We still have a shi-" a sharp look from Liam caused you to reword your sentence. "Stupendous amount of work to do" you corrected yourself, causing the other male to relax as he nodded.
"Very well, next we have your astronomy lessons" he says, as he leads you down one of the many halls of the palace.
The grimy streets of hell, the bright, obnoxious neon signs advertising drugs or porn studios, and the stink of death. All things Charlie has grown accustomed to as the princess of hell. One would think, with such an intimidating title as Princess of hell. You'd expect her to be terrifying, cold, and power hungry creature, when in reality Charlie is more comparable to a puppy...or rather a kid.
Charlie was someone you'd least expect to be the princess of Hell. She's sweet, kind, got a big heart, and she's got a passion for singing. She's literally a wannabe Disney princess, just lacking the animal side kick...well unless you count Razzle and Dazzle. But on a serious note, it's unexpected to have someone so happy go lucky as literal he'll born royalty. But what's even more shocking is the fact she started up a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. The reaction to the hotel...was less than positive. But she simply doesn't know when to quit despite being publicly humiliated on tv that her only tenant was involved with a turf war.
But like I said, Charlie has never given up. She simply doesn't know when to quit. Which leads us to now.
The princess of Hell, sitting in the lobby of the hotel, planning out another presentation about her hotel, to potential customers....the presentation really consisted of colorful messy drawings Charlie enthusiastically put together.
the room was quiet , but Charlie could swear she'd be able to hear some radio static every now and then. Which she supposed made sense? Alastor was weird, she wasn't even sure if he slept. Like at all. She shrugged going back to finishing her drawings. "Oo! Oo! Almost finished! I just need pink! Ooo where's the pink!" She said, cheerfully as she scavenged around for her pink marker. Once she found the plastic tube. She quickly uncapped it and scribbled in some doodles and a stripe of pink on her rainbow, and she was finished.
The blonde stepped back, as she held up her masterpiece in the air. "This looks great! I cant wait to show Vaggie!" She grinned, though something caught her attention in the corner of her eye; her phone was on and the Lock Screen showed a picture of her, her father, and her mother. A small frown made its way onto her face, as she glanced back at the messy child like drawings she made. She sighed, placing the papers down on the table as she picked up her phone. She sunk down into the cushions of the couch as she stared at the screen, they were so happy back then....what happened?
"Cmon Charlie, happy thoughts happy thoughts!" She tried to encourage herself. "You've got a hotel to run and sinners to redeem!"
'That is if you get any actual clients' a small voice in the back of her head, spoke but she tried to shake it away. Sure, advertising the hotel on the news wasn't the best choice. Charlie could remember getting into a fight with Katie, and the absolute humiliation of having Angel dust being shown in participating in a turf war. And sure, they haven't had much success, no other demons have joined besides Husk, Niffty and Alastor but they were all employees that were literally forced to be here.
No, she couldn't give up now. Despite the crippling self doubt. She wouldn't give up. "There's got to be someone out there who believes in this hotel as much as I do, there's just gotta be.." she whispered, as she turned to look out the window.
"There's gotta be."
Back in heaven, you were being poked with pins and needles, biting your lip as you desperately tried not to flinch away from the pointed ends.
"Ow!" You finally yelped, as the needle pricked your skin. A small droplet of golden blood dripped from your forearm, staining the white gown you wore being fitted into.
"That wouldn't have happened if you would have stayed still, your highness" the Angel fitting you said, her voice in deep concentration as she clenched another pair of pins in between her teeth.
"I'm trying to!" You pouted, trying your best to stay still. "Why am I even being fitted? Elijah is the one who picks all my clothes! Also this looks like extremely formal attire!"
"Happy you finally noticed, your highness" Liam spoke up, "you're being fitted for wedding" he stated, casually.
"WHAT?!??" You screeched, your eyes as wide as saucers. "Wedding? Wh-what?! When? How- WHy?!?" You stammered over your words.
"Your highness, please stay still.." the female Angel said once more, as she placed another pin into your outfit. You whimpered a soft 'Ow' as you felt it nick you again.
Liam smiled, "ah yes, I forgot, Sera did not tell you." He says nervously. "You're being wed! Congratulations your highness!" He summoned a scroll, this one with a picture of who you assumed would be your future spouse. Before you, you saw a beautiful woman, she had dark skin, and light purple tinted hair, styled in braids, her hair was long, length wise it could rival Rapunzels! Her eyes were gorgeous, siren shaped and a rich color of brown, or well one of them was, the other was a shade of green. You could also notice her dimples. She was beautiful, ethereal even. But you didn't know her! You didn't want to get married to a stranger.
"No!" You screamed, causing everyone to fall silent and look at you in surprise from your outburst. "I-I mean! Yes!" You stuttered over your words to try and save yourself. "She is, sh-she's beautiful but I don't know her!"
Liam looked confused, "she?" He then noticed his mistake. "Oh silly me, this is the wrong picture, you're not getting married to her, Aurora is your wedding planner.."
You jaw would have been on the floor, if it weren't literally attached to your skull.
" Why am I even getting married?! Sera told me none of us could since our life had to be devoted into making heaven and earth a better place! And romance would get on the way?"
"Well, she's changed her mind. Or rather the humans on earth did, you are the Angel to represent us down in the mortal realm y'know? And you know humans and their romances! They think it's be a good idea!" Liam explained. So what? This was just a big PR stunt? For the fucking humans?!?
"But- don't-"
"Do not being up Adam and Eve, y'know he and Eve were far from the perfect couple no matter how hard the mortals try to make it seem they were"
You sighed, "yeah..." you couldn't fight that, the fact Adam doesn't even fucking speak abt Eve, is already enough to know that even the humans on earth could see they weren't a great couple. Though, they blamed most of it on Eve.
Misogynistic pigs.
"Don't worry, Prince Y/n. Everything has already accepted and he's more than happy to be married to you! He even sent engagement gifts!" Liam snapped his fingers, and a hoard of angels came in carrying gifts. Placing them neatly in the corner before exiting the room.
You were too stunned to say anything, Gifts?!? Really?!? They sent you gifts?!? luckily your fitting was over. The Angel fitting you pulled out all the pins, making you sigh in relief, as she went to speak to Liam.
"We'll have to shrink it down to a medium, and we need to adjust the waistline, the Prince has surprisingly wide hips for a man." They both glanced at you, as you blushed in embarrassment, shrinking back as you placed your hands in your hips, and felt around.
'Damn I guess I do have those Kim kardashian hips...' you thought. Though you couldn't really tell if that's a good or a bad thing. While you were in your thoughts, you failed to notice that Liam pulled out your to do list for today. "Oh, we're late, late, late. We have twenty, maximum twenty-two minutes for your royal fitting. And then it's move, move, move to your speech at the Angelic Society. After that, we have to rush, and I mean rush, to the Heavenly Society Tea. And then there's your math lessons, your geography lessons, your science lessons..."
You sighed, as Liam began to go on and on, tuning him out as you focused your attention to look out the window. You noticed a butterfly, you're not sure how it got here, but you wished you could fly away like they could, "All my life, I've always wanted to have one day just for me. Nothing to do, and for once, nowhere I need to be" you placed your face in your palm.
"With no lessons, lords or lunches Or to-do list in the way" as you went on, your voice grew a bit louder to drown out Liam's rambling as you snuck away, desperately trying to loosen the tightness of the outfit you wore.
"No one to say when to eat or read or leave or stay" you made your way to the balcony as you continued on, you held out your pointer finger, as the (f/c) colored, butterfly landed on your finger.
"That would be the day"
"All my life, I've always wanted to have one day for myself. Not waking up with a pile of work on every shelf" Charlie sang, as she brushed her suit jacket off, as she stood up from her spot on the couch.
"With no father in need of impressing. And no hotel in disarray" she stepped over the scattered markers on the floor as she saw something catch her attention out of the corner of her eyes. It was a butterfly, that intrigued her. You didn't see butterflies in hell. But it was a beautiful shade of cherry red, it matched her eyes.
"No hell with thousands of sinners to save" she opened the window, gently to not spook the winged creature. It eagerly flew inside, spooking KeeKee a bit. Charlie chuckled, as she held out her finger as she watched it gently land on it. "And no extermination in the way".
Her smile fell a bit as she watched the butterfly fly off her finger, as all the weight and self doubt creeped in again. "What would it be like to be..."
You watched as the butterfly flew off your finger, "What would it be like to be free?"
"Free?"
"Free to try crazy things" you looked up at the sky, dreamily with a cheeky smile on your face.
"Free from endless IOUs" the red eyed demon, cooed, as she leaned against the wall of the hotel.
"Free to fly" your ears flicked, as you watched the butterfly flutter past you and out towards the balcony.
"Free to sing"
"And marry whom I choose" you sang bitterly, as you remembered your arranged engagement you own fucking sister didn't tell you about.
"Cmon your highness, don't be so upset. This is for the greater good, you both will be an adorable couple! Helping bring hope to humans for centuries to come!" Liam said enthusiastically.
"I guess ..." you grumbled bitterly, "it's my duty..."
"Oh look! Another engagement gift!" He cooed, as another Angel sent down a gift on the growing pile. You rose a brow, a bit skeptical. "You would think that I'm so lucky that I have so many things" you crouched down to grab one of the presents, it was wrapped in your favorite color with a golden ribbon on the top. "I'm realizing that every present comes with strings" you looked at the gift solemnly, as you fiddled with the string.
"Though I know I have so little, my determination's strong" Charlie, glanced around the slightly ramshackled walls of the hotel, nervously. Before putting on a determined grin, "People will gather around the 7 rings to hear my song!" The blonde twirled, as she thrusted her arms up enthusiastically into the air.
"Now I fear I'll never be..."
"Soon, I will forever be..."
"Free"
You and Charlie both made your way back to your balconies, as you both sang in harmony. " I close my eyes and feel myself fly a thousand miles away". You both gripped the railing as you both overlooked your kingdoms; Your sunny blue clear skies and Charlie's dark and dingy horizon. "I could take flight, but would it be right?" You both glanced up at the colored butterflies fluttering around you. "My conscience tells me, "Stay"
"I'll remain forever royal" you sighed, as you closed your eyes.
"I won't give up on these sinners yet!" Charlie declared determinedly.
"Duty means doing the things your heart may well regret"
"But I'll never stop believing" Charlie cooed softly, as she looked up in the sky dreamily. She was sure there was someone up there in heaven who'd take her seriously
"She can never stop my schemes" you rolled your eyes playfully, as you leaned against the railing. Sure, Sera could try and tie you down with marriage but you weren't about to roll over and take it.
"There's more to living than gloves and gowns and threads and seams" You both sang into the empty sky, as y'all watched the butterflies finally soar away from the balcony
"In my dreams, I'll be free"
"Nice singing twink" a familiar voice snapped you out of your perfect harmony, causing you to freeze. You turned around bashfully, as heat began to rush to your face. You were NOT expecting to be caught. You were met with the familiar sight of Adam's exterminator mask, you sighed. "Good afternoon Adam..." you noticed Lute standing not far from him. "Good afternoon Lute"
"Afternoon, your highness" she replied, professionally, nodding her head in a slight bowed.
"Uh? You don't sound pleased to see me? Which is fucking crazy, since I'm ADAM y'know the-" you cut him off swiftly.
"The original dick? Yeah, I know Adam..." you huffed, crossing your arms. "What do you want anyways?" You asked, as you fiddled with the collar of your shirt.
"What a guy can't see the cute little twink he's about to put a ring on?" He asked smugly.
Your eyes widened, at those words, your form stiffening, as you processed what he had just said. Adam...is the Angel you're marrying.
Adam.....marriage you.
Adam is marrying you.
You couldn't help but let out the screech you've been holding in. Fuck that entire Disney princess ass song you sang about follwing your duty for the greater good that was when you thoughts you were marrying literally anybody else except literally FUCKING ADAM.
"OH YOU MOTHERFU-"
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@mixplara @lukerycyja-reblogs
Hey y'all, how y'all doin *nervous smile*. I'm sorry this took so fucking long, the or I am dox got deleted and then I keep rewriting the chapter cause I didn't like it and honestly I'm not not even sure if I like this version of it. Let me know if you thought the addition of the song was corny, I had very mixed feelings towards it. Cause I thought it would
Also from now updates will be every Friday, any other updates in between the week will me deciding to be a motivated bitch out of literally nowhere. <333 anyways bye pookies
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pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
wc: 1.8k
cw: oh death babes, depression, mentions of drugs, mentions of ODs, gun violence, blood, four out of the five stages of grief (there’s no acceptance here)
a/n: Guys, I was feeling something, and spewed this out. Enjoy the pure grief and pain I just poured out onto a page. Also spot the little references throughout hehe.
Spencer Reid Masterlist
“Spence, you did everything you could. It’s not your fault.”
He shook his head and pressed you up against his chest, ignoring the blood seeping into his pants, his vest, his hands.
“You can’t—hey, hey, hey, look at me. Y/n, please.” His voice cracked on his plea as the two of you crumpled to the ground. He screamed out for a medic as he cradled your body against him.
Your eyes floated in and out of consciousness, focusing on him when they could. “We knew this was going to happen eventually.”
“N-No.”
“I-I…I love you…” Your chest heaved up and down.
“Stop it. Stop.”
“So….much….”
Spencer just shook his head and yelled at his team to do something, but they all stood back, none of them wanting to ruin the goodbye he never got to say.
Spencer snapped into focus, realizing he was sitting on the jet, staring out the window. There was no one sitting next to him, they had all taken the physical seats, leaving him to the couch. And while this was nothing out of the norm, the only difference was that you weren’t sitting on the couch facing back at him.
Spencer was alone, in his head, and on the couch.
Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n passed away on May 17th, at the young age of thirty. She had been an agent of the FBI for over seven years, and a member of the BAU for almost five. She had become an integral part of the team and was a valued member of the team. She was survived by her fiancé Doctor Spencer Reid, her Mother and Father, her younger brother and sister, as well as two nieces and one nephew.
Spencer thought about you every single day.
He would think about you when he went to make his coffee, adding a scoop of sugar since that’s how you took yours. He thought about you when he took the train into work, listening to songs that you loved, over and over and over. He thought about you when he would sit alone on the jet, trying to ignore all of the pitiful stares as everyone tried not to take your spot on the couch.
He liked to replay your death over and over and over, making it so that he was in the other car, he was onsight to say goodbye to you.
Derek told him that you waited for as long as you could.
Spencer didn’t know if that was comforting, knowing you willingly suffered longer than you needed to, just to see him one last time. But it was in vain since you died two minutes and forty-seven seconds before the car arrived.
In his head, he was the one who held you, who told you how much you were loved and adored, and maybe that could’ve made you stay.
It wasn’t Derek holding you as you choked on your own blood, watching you struggle to survive long enough. It wasn’t Derek holding you telling you to breathe and just let go. It wasn’t Derek being the last person to hear your voice.
Tell him that I’m so sorry, and I love him. So. Much.
Spencer realized about a month after the funeral, that he never saw your wedding dress. You were about seven months away from your wedding when you died, but you had been engaged for over a year.
Emily, Penelope, and JJ have the pictures, but he column’t bring himself to see you in something that was supposed to signify your forever, when instead it was cut short by an ambush and the carelessness of the local cops.
Apparently, it was perfect. But Spencer didn’t have perfect. He wasn’t lucky enough to have perfect. He wasn’t privileged enough to even be allowed to think about perfection.
The anger would take over after thinking about it for too long. He always found himself angry with you for leaving him—abandoning him. How selfish could you be? Spencer believed he wasn’t worthy of you, he never had. You’d always take your lunch breaks with him, so he always had someone to sit with since he told you about how he would eat alone when he was younger. Every Time he’d come in with his tie crooked or his hair a mess, you would casually let him know. Eventually, when you worked up the courage to kiss him one night, you just started fixing it for him. Every morning you’d make him coffee as you both got ready for the day. You’d leave him little notes hidden in his desk, in his pillowcase, in his wallet, in his pockets.
It didn't take anything to make him think about you, but when he reached into the pocket of his jacket to find his phone as he got onto the plane, he found one.
Hello Darling,
I hope today is a good day for you. You deserve
good things Spence. I hope you one day believe
it as much as I know it to be true <3.
With all the love in my heart,
Future Mrs Doctor Spencer Reid
P.S. you owe me the dishes tonight…
It shattered what little resolve he had left this morning, causing him to sit alone, on the couch, the note pressed against his lips as he stared out the windows of the plane.
It was ironic that the one good thing he had left in the world was suddenly gone, and how you leaving made him feel as though he deserved nothing. The Bureau gave him a maximum of six months off, Grief Leave, they called it. But he ended up getting restless around month four, asking Hotch if he could come back periodically. That was how JJ found out that Spencer had been sleeping on the couch, unable to bring himself to sleep in a bed made for the two of you when there was only one left.
It’s also how JJ found out that Spencer had relapsed.
She had been the one to find him on the bathroom floor, a few days after your funeral. And spencer fucking hated her for it. He kept asking himself why she would keep the two of you apart? Two souls that were meant to forever be intertwined suddenly ripped apart. It felt like some sort of cruel joke.
But he didn’t use it after that. One and Done, as he stated to Garcia over the phone one night while at a rehab. They let him out a week later since they couldn’t prove he was a harm to himself.
The team would take their turns, feeling like he was twenty-three again, watching as they felt obligated to babysit him, watch out for him. Made him feel more like his friendships were chores than acts of love. Spencer didn’t feel much love anymore, only pity.
Spencer looked over as Derek cleared his throat, silently asking if he could sit down, in your spot. He nodded once, an invitation he wasn’t really in the mood to repeat.
The plane ride was going to be a long one, six hours. And Spencer had only been overthinking everything for one of them.
“You found another one.” Not a question, an observation.
Reid nodded, his gaze had shifted back to the window, the clouds, the slight rain streaking horizontally across the sky as they flew.
You loved the rain. It was refreshing, something cleansing. Rebirth, as you would say.
It gives you a new beginning everytime it rains, which is extremely kind of the universe considering how many times we manage to fuck up.
Spencer had once laughed at that, listening to you rant on about the perks and importance of rain. But now? He fucked hated it. He saw glimpses of you in every rain drop, reflecting you millions of times, and he would hear your laugh every time it thundered, taking up sas much space as deserved and echoing through your empty house.
It rained for a week straight after you died. The world weeped at the loss of your soul. Spencer couldn’t tell if it was a cruel joke from the universe, or if it was you trying to tell him to try out that whole “rebirth thing”.
Either way, he didn’t enjoy it as much as you would have.
“Even when she’s not…” Spencer closed his eyes and swallowed the words, still unable to say them outloud. “She still manages to, uh, render me speechless.”
Your favorite pastime was getting Doctor Spencer Reid to become speechless. You learned how to play chess, without his knowledge, and managed to beat him the first time you played. At somepoint, you had learned enough Russian to go and see one fo those movies he enjoyed so much, even though he knew that deep down the whole thing was not remotely in your wheelhouse. The team had never heard Spencer go as quiet as often as he did when you were around.
Except for now. Spencer would state a fact, make an observation, point out something the team was missing, and that was it. He never spoke more than a few sentences at a time. Gone were the days of rants and backstory and additional context, that you always argued were important. No one listened to Spencer like you did. Instead, now, the world settled into an uncomfortable silence where laughter and rambling and teasing should have been.
“She’s good like that.” Derek looked down at his hands. The two of them barely spoke because it was ahrd, for both of them. Spencer knew that Derek could still see your breath stop when he closed his eyes. Derek once drunkenly told him that sometimes, he could still see your blood over his hands–He couldn’t wash it out with water, so some nights he’d wash it out with whiskey, or bourbon, or scotch, anything to make the stains go away.
The two of them looked at one another before opting to not say anything further, at risk of causing them both even more grief at the subject of you.
I swear Spence, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I know you will.
It was funny to him that in his day dream, you always ended up comforting him. You always ended up being the one to make sure he was okay before you died.
I love you so much Spence.
And he would just whisper how much he loved you back, hoping to god that somewhere, somehow, you could hear him. You could hear his misery and come back, having pranked him. He’d forgive you, if you came back.
But instead, while he thought about you at 43,894 feet above the earth, you lay six feet under, permanently grounded.
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