#meant that there’s scenes i want to write without the whole fic

[sashimiyas]

cw: gen snippet about the twins; angst

osamu’s in tokyo sleeping on a decade old futon in someone else’s living room. akaashi’s living room.

on the first day, osamu was told that his new bed for the next month was from akaashi’s college days. his impromptu move in finally convinced the editor to purchase a new medium for sleeping. though with osamu’s curious peeping around his doorframe, it looks much less like an upgrade and more like a lateral move.

akaashi’s still out, hardly home, and probably why he was so willing to accept osamu’s residence. that, and because he knows that osamu’s presence means a rumored tokyo location may be in motion.

which is true. it is the reason why osamu is here, but it’s only a week in and though the cook turned entrepreneur has walked many difficult roads in his past, these tokyo ones has osamu with an eye constantly over his shoulder.

he feels out of depth for the very first time, lost despite himself. he never realized how much he’d relied on his community, of the regulars ingrained in his life as much as the grains that have stained his fingers. of jiji and his taiyaki. of the dinging bell of the students who bike past his shop every afternoon. even the sun rises different among the large buildings.

there’s little in akaashi’s home to entertain him. only cartons of cigarettes and books from countries that osamu can hardly pronounce. the man hardly has a working fridge though akaashi is never home enough to even file a complaint to his landlord about it.

osamu sits idly with his back against the wall. he stares ahead of him at a bookshelf that is topped with two small trophies and a couple of picture frames. bokuto is in 90% of them and is probably the brightest thing in akaashi’s home. as dismal as it is, that’s hardly saying anything.

and so osamu dials the closest thing he has to home. atsumu answers immediately.

the sound of his voice has osamu immediately sitting up straight, tucking his legs beneath him. it’s been a while since he’d spoken to his brother. many calls had been left unanswered and unreturned. even this new turning point in his life had began without him. which osamu was fine with despite disappointment.

however, osamu can already tell that something is off just by his brother’s first breath before greeting. the man prides himself with a good nose, smelling the transformation of aromatics seconds before it happens.

“what’s up with ya?”

atsumu’s response confirms his suspicions, “nothing!”

an attack like that is usually met with an equally aggressive quip. osamu already feels like he’s losing his brother. the realization coupled with the isolation he’s been facing in tokyo fills osamu with dread. his stomach is heavy and he wants to expel the feeling by throwing up.

“ya ain’t been right. something up ya ass or what?”

it’s a cheap shot but it’s a desperate attempt to find something that atsumu can respond candidly to.

“fuck outta here! the hell ya want, samu? ya call me up just to talk shit?”

“course, it’s what we always do.”

atsumu’s silence hurts more than verbalizing the reminder.

“i ain’t got time for that right now.”

osamu’s mind blanks for a moment. they had accepted distance. but time? atsumu’s time had always been his and vice versa. they came into this world together, pressed against their mother’s bosom in tandem. every second has been lived twice between the both of them.

and then osamu’s angry.

“what?” he grips his phone tight into his fist, “ya think ya better than me?”

“no!”

“what about ma? ya ain’t got time for ma?”

“what?! no!”

“ya think just because ya some big shot athlete that ya suddenly don’t have—“

“i ain’t a big shot!”

atsumu’s heaving through the phone and osamu can feel the air change yet again.

“i ain’t gonna have a job soon, samu! there’s a new hotshot setter about to graduate high school. they say even better than kageyama.”

the pieces slowly begin to fall into place. osamu’s breath stills but atsumu’s continues.

“and ya know i’ve never been able to beat kageyama.”

“don’t—“

“shut up samu. i know how it is. im a setter and ya know there’s only one of us on the court. i became one because ya wanted to be a hitter and i knew id always have ya to set to. but…”

osamu wishes he brother wouldn’t say it. but they’re both mean. they both say words that are meant to hurt.

“but ya dont need me and i need to find someone else to set to. so yeah, i ain’t got time right now for bullshit, samu.”

and they both never know how to say what they truly feel. because how, after all of this, can osamu admit that he does need his brother right now?

#reinas.inretrograde #i forgot that writing a longer fic #meant that there’s scenes i want to write without the whole fic #but this #is about osamu in tokyo. and is also related to the little blurb of osamu playing volleyball at the rec center #reina.writeshaikyuu!! #idc it’s unedited. i’m just vibing #but always im shaking one piece like a pair of pants wishing that the episodes fall out like loose change and that i don’t have to watch all #thousand episodes of this series

[agaypanic]

Is this how you request a fic? I have no idea but I’ll try. I’m craving Regina George content. Can you please write something where reader is apart of the plastics but she’s not mean like the rest of them and that’s why Regina likes her. When Cady shows up and Regina has an interest in cady it’s too make reader jealous but instead cady ends up liking reader who distances herself from the plastics and then Regina gets jealous and admits her feelings so reader doesn’t end up with cady. If that makes sense? Thank you!

Craving Your Attention (Regina George X Plastic!Reader)

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Request Something!

Summary: Regina George is the queen of North Shore High and she doesn’t like to share her toys, even if she doesn’t really play with them. 

A/N: kinda toxic!regina even tho thats not really a surprise. slight cady x reader, she likes you instead of aaron (also aaron doesn’t exist teehee). The girls arent homophobic bc cady tells gretchen she likes reader and regina ends up with reader (saying this bc idk if you’re gonna read this with 2004 regina or 2024 regina in mind, and obviously 2004 was a different time lmao) content warning for diet talk but it’s just part of one scene. Heavily relied on the mean girls (2004) script for this fic, so it's almost all written centered around Cady. all in third person which felt a lil weird to write because i usually write in second person lol idk if anyone’s gonna want a part 2 but imma lyk rn that im not planning on writing a part 2, mainly bc this took so painstakingly long

***

Everyone at North Shore High knew about Regina George. They’d be stupid not to. She was practically royalty. 

A queen bee was nothing without her little worker bees. First was Karen Smith. She seemed to give a whole new meaning to the word ‘clueless,’ but she was friendly. In more ways than one.

Then there’s Gretchen Wieners. She was Regina’s eyes and ears, whether it was wanted or not. All she wanted to do was please her leader.

And finally, there was Y/n L/n. If any of the plastics were to be deemed approachable, it was her. She was Regina’s right-hand girl, maybe even a bit more than that. But no one ever brought that up.

But then Cady Heron came to North Shore.

“Is he bothering you?” Regina tilted her head as she looked at the redheaded girl and the familiar boy who was talking to her. Y/n, who was sitting next to Regina, looked up from her food in curiosity. Regina didn’t usually talk to anyone outside of the table during lunch. The girl made a nondescript noise, so Regina turned her attention to the boy. “Jason, why are you such a skeez?”

Jason rolled his eyes, but tried to seem polite.

“I’m just being friendly.”

“You were supposed to call me last night,” Gretchen pouted, looking over her shoulder at Jason.

“Jason.” Attention was brought back to Regina with the simple call of his name. She wore a sweet smile, which meant that Jason was probably about to get a bite taken out of him. “You do not come to a party at my house with Gretchen and then scam on some poor, innocent girl right in front of us three days later. She’s not interested.” Regina then turned to the redheaded girl. “Do you wanna have sex with him?”

She looked shocked, giving an immediate no.

“Good. So it’s settled.”

“You can go shave your back now,” Y/n finished, and the four plastics waved him off. Jason walked away, but not before muttering an insult to the girls.

“Good one,” Regina said quietly to Y/n, who couldn’t help but smile a bit at the small praise. Before she could reply, Regina’s eyes followed after the red-haired girl, who was now starting to walk away. “Wait.” The single word made her stop in her tracks and look back. “Sit down.”

Regina moved her hands, signaling Gretchen and Karen to move to the sides of the lunch bench to make room for this mystery girl. After some more encouragement, she sat down.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asked sweetly, trying to ease the girl’s nerves.

“Cady.”

“Why don’t I know you?” Regina asked, looking at Cady curiously.

“I’m new,” Cady replied. “I just moved here from Africa.”

“What?”

“I used to be home-schooled.”

“Wait. What?”

Cady took a second, wondering why Regina kept saying ‘what.’ She didn’t think it was that confusing.

“My mom taught me at home-”

“No, no.” Regina laughed. “I know what ‘home-school’ is; I’m not stupid. So, you’ve actually never been to a real school before?”

As she spoke, Regina leaned more and more forward towards Cady. And as the conversation continued, Y/n wondered why Regina was taking such an interest in her. Regina never cared about anyone who passed by, too involved in the latest gossip session Gretchen had started or in Y/n’s appearance. Not that Y/n really noticed that; she was busy thinking about Regina to see that Regina was thinking about her. Either way, she didn’t understand why the blonde was suddenly so fascinated by this new girl.

“You’re like, really pretty.”

Oh… That must be why.

Y/n seemed to tune the rest of the conversation out, too wrapped up in Regina’s compliment towards Cady and the bright smile she wore while giving it. She didn’t know why it bothered her. It’s not like Regina belonged to her. If anything, Y/n, along with the rest of the Plastics, belonged to Regina.

Even when Regina brought Gretchen and Karen in close to speak to them and Y/n, leaving Cady awkwardly leaning back to give them more privacy, Y/n didn’t care much to listen. The gist of the conversation was that they wanted Cady to sit with them at lunch for a week, something they had never considered doing with anyone else in this school.

“Okay.” Regina started as Gretchen and Karen relaxed back into their seats, and Cady leaned back in. “You should just know that we don’t do this a lot, so this is, like, a really huge deal. We wanna invite you to have lunch with us every day for the rest of the week.” Regina wore a grin that meant she was up to something, but Cady didn’t seem to decipher that, and the rest of the girls didn’t know what it meant.

“Oh, it’s okay—” Cady’s tone seemed to indicate that she was about to decline, but Regina interrupted her before she could.

“Coolness.” The bell rang, and Regina’s eyes darted over to Y/n before going back to Cady. Her mischievous smile remained present as she, Gretchen, and Karen grabbed their trays. “So we’ll see you tomorrow.”

The three Plastics stood up and left the table, leaving Y/n in a slight daze and Cady confused about what had just happened. Y/n suddenly looked around, realizing that her friends had left without her, but the new girl was still with her. She figured that she should say something before leaving her alone. She didn’t have to be mean or unpleasant just because Regina seemed to like Cady.

“On Wednesdays, we wear pink.” Y/n said it with a timid but sweet smile, trying to get over the revelation that the girl she loved was setting her sights on someone else. Her hand patted Cady’s a few times before she stood up and picked up her tray. “Welcome to North Shore.”

As Cady watched Y/n leave, and as Janis and Damian dragged the redhead away to interrogate her about her interaction with Regina, she couldn’t help but feel warm. Maybe public school wouldn’t be so bad.

***

The next day, Cady was slightly nervous to sit with the Plastics. She felt like a double spy. Janis and Damian were under the impression that Cady was doing it for them, to listen in on Regina’s secrets and relay them back to her friends so they could laugh at the pathetic and superficial nature of it all. And sure, that was the main reason she was sitting with the girls. But Cady also returned to the table so she could bask in a new light, Y/n. 

But living in girl world came with a bunch of rules.

“You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row, and you can only wear your hair in a ponytail once a week. So…” Gretchen laughed lightly, seeming a little nervous for no reason as she looked at Cady, who was wearing her hair in a ponytail. “I guess you picked today. Oh! And we only wear jeans or track pants on Fridays.”

“Which totally blows in the winter,” Y/n muttered before sipping her Diet Coke.

“Now,” Gretchen started again, “if you break any of these rules, you can’t sit with us at lunch.” Cady seemed surprised, but Gretchen continued. “Not just you! Like, any of us. Okay, so, like, if I was wearing jeans today, I would be sitting over there with the art freaks.” She said it with a grimace, pointing over to a table a few feet away from the girls before looking back at Cady. “Oh, and we always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us, because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group. I mean, you wouldn’t buy a skirt without asking your friends first if it looks good on you.”

Everyone nodded except for Cady, who was processing all of these new rules she had to follow.

“I wouldn’t?”

“Right,” Gretchen said with a definitive nod. “And it’s the same with guys. Like, you may think you like someone, but you could be wrong.”

“One hundred twenty calories and forty-eight calories from fat,” Regina interrupted, reading a food bar that she had grabbed. She looked at her friends inquisitively. What percent is that?”

“Uh… forty-eight into one hundred and twenty?” Gretchen suggested, not really sure of herself.

“No, I don’t think so, Gretch,” Y/n said, trying to think of the correct answer.

“I’m only eating foods with less than thirty percent calories from fat.”

“It’s forty percent,” Cady said suddenly, proud that she was able to do the equation in her head. Everyone looked at her, expressions varying from impressed to confused. Cady suddenly felt the need to show her work. “Well, forty-eight over a hundred and twenty equals X over a hundred-”

“So then you cross multiply to get X!” Y/n finished off with a grin, thrilled that she knew what Cady was talking about. Cady smiled back at her with the same excited energy, although looking a little more subdued. Not only was this girl super pretty and friendly, but she also seemed decently smart. Maybe Janis was wrong about these girls.

“Whatever.” Regina looked at the two girls suspiciously. She tossed the food bar onto the table and stood up. “I’m getting cheese fries. Y/n, come with me.”

Taken back by the sudden command, Y/n stumbled out of her seat and followed Regina. Cady’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight, and she sighed quietly when she couldn’t catch a glimpse of the girl anymore. 

“So!” Gretchen startled Cady with her enthusiastic voice and a hand on her shoulder. As she turned to look at her, Cady realized that Karen was also gone from the table. She must’ve gone to the bathroom or somewhere else. “Have you seen anyone you think is cute yet?”

Cady didn’t know how to answer. There was definitely one person that came to mind, but she didn’t know if she should say the name. Gretchen might react badly if Cady told her, which would most likely lead to her getting kicked out of the Plastics.

But at the same time, she didn’t want to lie. 

“Well… there’s this one.. girl.” The last word was quiet and hesitant, but Gretchen picked up on it.

“Oh my gosh, who is it?” She asked excitedly. “Do you think it’s just like, a phase, or is it more serious?”

“I dunno.” Cady shrugged. “I haven’t known her too long to be sure.”

“Who is it?” Gretchen leaned forward in her seat, completely invested in Cady’s answer. It took the redhead a long moment of hesitancy to open her mouth.

“It’s Y/n…”

“No!” Gretchen straightened up, looking absolutely horrified. She looked around, ensuring none of the other girls were back yet. “You can’t like Y/n. Not only is she a part of the group, but… Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, and you’re, like, totally forbidden from ever bringing it up. But Regina is really possessive over Y/n. They’ve been best friends for, like, forever, and Regina chases off anyone who tries to so much as ask her out. And it’s not my place to say whether or not it’s more than friendship, but if I had to say something, there’s definitely something going on between them.” Gretchen took a much-needed breath, shaking her head slightly to clear her jumbled thoughts. “Look, the point is, you shouldn’t date friends. Especially Regina’s friends. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell Regina or Y/n what you said. It’ll be our little secret.”

Gretchen gave Cady a sweet smile, and that seemed to be the end of their little conversation. But for the next few days, Cady kept thinking about it.

She didn’t want to get on Regina’s bad side. That would mean no more things to tell Janis and Damian and no more seeing Y/n. And she also didn’t want to freak Y/n out. But just because Cady wasn’t allowed to like Y/n didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to look at her. Or think about her. Or talk to her.

A few days later, when Cady was with Janis and Damian at the mall, Janis asked when Cady would see Regina next. She said it felt weird to spy on her and that she didn’t want to do it anymore. And sure, it being weird was part of why she wanted to stop. But mainly, it was because Cady had started getting so distracted by Y/n that it was difficult to focus on Regina. Which was strange, because the blonde girl was so alluring. But Janis reassured Cady that Regina would never find out about her double agent status, that it would be their little secret.

So many secrets.

***

“Hello?” Cady held the phone up to her ear, wondering who was calling her at this late hour.

“I know your secret.” Cady stiffened at Regina’s voice coming through the speaker. She internally panicked, trying to figure out what to do. How did Regina figure out about Cady’s spying?

“Secret?” She decided that playing it cool was the better move. “What secret?”

“Gretchen told me that you like Y/n.” Cady relaxed at the fact that Regina had learned about her other secret, before freezing again. Right now, she wondered if it would be better if Regina knew about the spying. “I mean, I don’t care, do whatever you want.” Regina didn’t sound like she didn’t care, but Cady didn’t bring it up. “But let me just tell you something about Y/n: She’s, like, never gone on a date before. It’s not that she’s not pretty or anything, but no one’s ever really been good enough for her.”

“Oh?” What did this mean? Did Regina deem Cady good enough for Y/n after so many others tried and failed? Or was this a set-up?

Honestly, Cady was so happy for Regina’s blessing that she didn’t really care.

“I could talk to her for you, if you want.”

“Really? You would do that?”

“We’ve been friends since like, pretty much birth. I know exactly how to play it.” There was a moment of silence, and Cady could picture Regina picking at her nails. “But wait. Aren’t you mad at Gretchen for telling me? Because if you are, you can tell me. It was a really bitchy thing for her to do.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bitchy, but I’m not mad.” Cady was a little mad, but she didn’t feel like saying that. “I mean, it’s better she told you instead of Y/n. I dunno, I guess she just likes the attention.” Cady didn’t know why she said that last part, but it had just spilled out of her mouth.

“See, Gretch? I told you she’s not mad at you.” Cady was a bit confused, but then another voice spoke.

“I can’t believe you think I like attention!” There was a click, and Cady assumed the Gretchen had hung up. She had no idea she was even listening.

“Okay, love you. See you tomorrow!” Cady could hear Regina’s smile, and then there was another click followed by a dial tone, showing that Cady was now the only one on the line. She then hung up herself, processing the three-way call she had just survived.

And then after that, Cady realized that she had gotten Regina’s blessing to try to pursue Y/n.

***

“What day is it?” Y/n asked, looking down at her worksheet. She didn’t usually do homework at lunch, but lately, some of her classes had been kicking her ass. 

“It’s October third,” Cady answered almost immediately, catching the suspicious eyes of Regina and Gretchen.

“Thanks, Cady,” Y/n said, looking up at the girl and giving her a sweet smile before returning to her paper.

“I dunno why you don’t just ask one of the Mathlete dorks to do it for you,” Regina said, looking over Y/n’s shoulder. “They’d probably even do it for free.”

“We’ve talked about this, Regina. If my teacher didn’t catch on, it would still totally bite me in the ass when I’d have to do a test all by myself.”

“You need help with math?” Cady asked, subtly leaning closer to Y/n. The girl looked at Cady, now completely distracted from her work.

“Yeah! I used to get it, but trig is crazy hard.” Y/n sighed, delicately rubbing at her tired eyes so she didn’t mess up her makeup. “I feel like I’m never gonna get it.”

“I can help you!” Cady said, excited over this opportunity. She had always excelled in mathematics, and now Y/n needs help with that exact subject? It seemed like fate.

“Really?” Both Y/n and Cady missed the slight glare that Regina was giving them. 

“Oh right, Cady’s like, a total nerd.” They also chose to ignore Regina’s snide comment before sipping her Diet Coke.

“That would be amazing, Cady! Maybe I could come over after school today or something?”

Cady was about to say yes, a million times yes, but Regina butted in.

“Y/n, you’re coming over to my house today.” It didn’t really feel like Regina was reminding her of forgotten plans. Instead, it sounded like Regina was coming up with a reason for Y/n to be unavailable. Cady’s suspicions were confirmed by the confused look Y/n gave the blonde.

“I am?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… Well, how about tomorrow?”

“Perfect!” Cady spoke quickly and enthusiastically before Regina could say another word.

***

Over the next month or so, Cady tutored Y/n a few days every week. It quickly became their favorite part of their days. After helping with a few problems Y/n was stuck on, the two girls would get distracted by conversations about whatever they wanted to talk about. Neither of them felt the need to filter themselves in fear of being made fun of by one of the other Plastics, mainly Regina. Topics ranged from the latest gossip to future plans to their favorite things in media. If Cady had never heard of something Y/n brought up, which was the case nine times out of ten, the tutoring session would turn into a movie night or music party.

“Oh my gosh, so…” Y/n and Cady were in the middle of watching a chick flick that Cady had never seen when Y/n suddenly spoke. “I’m having a Halloween party at my place. We usually do it at Regina’s, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like doing it this year. Are you gonna come?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Cady’s response made Y/n smile brightly, a sight that Cady could never get sick of.

“Awesome!” Y/n sat up from her slouched position, her excitement waking her up from her slightly tired state. “It’s a costume party, which’ll be a lot of fun. I can give you a flier with all the info tomorrow. Even though I know you’re invited, you need the flier to get in. It only admits one person, so don’t bring anyone else with you.”

“Grool.” Y/n blinked in slight confusion, and Cady realized what she had said. “I… I meant to say ‘cool,’ and then I started to say ‘great.’”

Y/n giggled, which made Cady’s cheeks heat up.

“Right. Well, grool.” The two laughed, and then Y/n looked down at her watch. “Oh my gosh, it’s so late. I should probably get going.” With the help of Cady, Y/n gathered her things. “See you tomorrow!” In a flash, Y/n kissed Cady’s cheek before walking out of the room and leaving Cady’s house. Cady’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she lightly touched the cheek Y/n had kissed.

***

One thing that no one told Cady was that on Halloween, many girls opted for very revealing costumes rather than actual costumes. So when she arrived at Y/n’s house, she stuck out like a sore thumb in her dead bride attire while her friends wore tight clothes and animal ears.

“Why are you so scary?” Gretchen asked with concern, looking at Cady’s appearance with wide eyes.

“It’s Halloween,” Cady said with a shrug, not knowing what the problem was.

Suddenly, a hand touched Cady’s arm, making her jump. But she quickly relaxed when she saw who was touching her.

“You came!” Y/n squealed, bringing Cady in for a hug. The redhead felt a bit flustered by the contact, plus seeing Y/n in her slightly revealing outfit. When they broke the embrace, Y/n held Cady by the shoulders, surveying her outfit. “And you’re a… zombie bride…?”

“An ‘ex-wife.’” Cady replied, using her fingers to air quote.

“Well, I love it.” Y/n finally let go of Cady, although she wouldn’t have been opposed if she kept holding onto her. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be right back.” 

Y/n squeezed Cady’s arm for a quick moment before turning around. She weaved her way through the crowd to get to the kitchen, where a shit load of different drinks were scattered on the counters. She started mixing a drink for Cady when she felt a presence behind her.

“What the hell is Cady wearing?” Regina asked, squinting to see Cady from across the room.

“She’s a zombie bride!”

“She looks like a freak.”

“Regina!” Y/n set down the bottle she was pouring and looked at the blonde. “Be nice.”

“Whatever.” Regina rolled her eyes, pushing her hair off her shoulder before leaning on the kitchen counter. “You know, you should probably be careful around her. She has a giant crush on you.”

“What?” Y/n’s eyes snapped to Regina, immediately curious. “How do you know?”

“She told me. She tells everybody. It’s kinda cute, to be honest. She’s like a little girl.” Regina laughed, and Y/n tilted her head and raised her brows, silently asking for more details. “Like, she writes ‘Y/n plus Cady’ and stuff like that all over her notebook. And she made this shirt that says ‘I heart Y/n’ and she wears it under all of her clothes.

“Oh, come on.” Y/n sighed and rolled her eyes, figuring Regina had been joking. “That’s not funny, Regina.”

“I’m serious! She’s, like, obsessed with you. And who can blame her?” Regina’s hand reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Y/n’s face. When Y/n looked at her friend, she was suddenly closer than before. “I mean, you’re gorgeous.”

“Regina.”

“If I’m being honest… I hate the way she looks at you.” Regina grabbed Y/n’s chin before she could look away, forcing them to maintain eye contact. “It makes me sick. She should know better than to think she has a chance with you.”

“What are you saying, Regina?” Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper, but the blonde heard her loud and clear despite being in a crowded room with blasting music and semi-drunk teenagers.

“I’m saying you’re mine, Y/n.” With every word, Regina inched closer and closer. “I don’t want you to be with Cady. Or with anyone else.” 

Regina closed the small gap between her and Y/n’s lips, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s body to keep her close. After the wave of shock washed over her, Y/n reciprocated the kiss. Neither of them cared about any of the people around them watching. Including Cady, who watched from across the room with watery eyes and a breaking heart. 

Cady had lost Y/n to a competition she didn’t even know she had. Y/n had finally gotten the girl she had been wanting for years after being kept at arm’s length away. And Regina had once again ruined someone else’s happiness for her own.

***

Regina George Taglist: @wedfan2 @pyro-les @natashamaximoff-69

#agaypanic #regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls #mean girls x reader #rachel mcadams x reader #rachel mcadams #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader

[rosesbxrry]

Present

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jay X Girlfriend! Fem! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞(Minors DNI), established relationship! AU, Rich kids! AU

Warnings: Dom! Jay, unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it), fingering under the table, teasing, dirty talking, cream pie, Jay calls the reader ‘slut’ once, orgasm denial, praising, cunnilingus, Jay has a monster cock in this, bathroom sex. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else.

Summary: On Christmas Eve every year, the Parks will host a dinner party to celebrate the special occasion. You had been busy co-hosting the event; leaving a deprived Jay wanting you more than ever— even if it meant loosing a present from you for breaking a promise.

A Holiday Special: ➜ Jay

| ➜ Heeseung | ➜ Jake | ➜ Sunghoon |

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Word count: 4,015 words

a/n: This took be longer than normal to write 😭 because I’m currently in my home town visiting my relatives for Christmas! Happy Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone and I hope you enjoy Jay’s holiday special fic 🎄

Every year on Christmas Eve, the Park family would host a dinner party in one of their many mansions to celebrate the special occasion. It was known around the socialite circle that the annual event was highly sought after, which you understood, knowing that the Park's elevated hierarchy in the pyramid meant those who attended were huge in the scene.

Mrs Park was no other than the mastermind behind it all, being in charge of organising and curating a guest list deemed prestigious enough to be invited. As if you weren't lucky enough to be invited every year, you had the privilege of helping her in the process and were the first to be designated co-host ever since the event's birth.

To many people, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be honoured for managing such an esteemed social gathering. Still, it was unhinged and expected that you'd take over the responsibility in the future, being the girlfriend to the Park’s only son.

"Miss Hostess, "Jieun, your best friend, teased as she approached you. After standing and greeting all the guests formally for so long— seeing her made you sigh in relief, relaxing your stiff shoulder, which you didn't realise.

"You don't know how glad I am to see you." You greeted her back. She laughed at your distressed face, handing you a glass of champagne which you took gratefully.

"Come on, girl. You did such a good job with everything!" She reassured you. "Believe me. I can't even do half of the shit you manage to pull."

You laugh at her, reaching out to touch your champagne glass together before you take a drink of the sweet liquor. Your eyes darted to the main venue of the place, watching all the effort built over the past few months surrounded by people that married in the area.

Christmas was a holiday that was perfectly themed for formal parties without overdoing things, and you couldn't count how many compliments you'd gotten from guests about it. As much as you want to pat yourself on the back, you can't take all the credit for yourself.

"I'm glad Jay's mom was there with me. I wouldn't have gone through with this without her help." You said.

"Speaking of Jay," Jieun raised her eyebrow in question. "Have you talked things out with him about the thing?"

You shook your head, swirling the champagne glass aimlessly.

"I— no, I haven't. I couldn't find the right timing yet." You confessed, letting an unintended sigh escape your lips. Jieun gave you a comforting yet pitied look, patting your back to ease the tension.

The thing in question was what you feared would happen further into your relationship with Jay.

Falling in love with Jay wasn't on your agenda; coming from a vulgar family that climbs the social stratum through new money that constitutes their wealth. Somehow through mutual connections, flirtatious exchanges and romantic rendezvous, you had won the heart of the most desired marriage candidate in the whole social stratification.

It was naive of you to hope that your relationship with him would be kept under public scrutiny and from those stupid tabloids. But, once the sensational headlights plastered on the pieces of paper got out, declaring Park Jay to be in a relationship, you had to face an overnight shift that exasperated into being labelled as his Cinderella.

You wouldn't have taken offence if it weren't for the word being an innuendo to describe the ostentatious gap of elitism. Yes, you weren't in Jay's level of wealth, but you wouldn't see yourself as a pauper either, which makes the whole ordeal cretinous at best.

Call it cliche or cheesy, but you and Jay have agreed that only love will govern the bond; establishing a conventional boyfriend-girlfriend relationship was important for both of you to grow as a genuine loving couple.

However, not everything can work in your favour.

In upper-class elite society, arranged marriages among the children of well-established families ensue for beneficial exchanges through the marital union. Of course, being in your position in their point of view, you had nothing to offer towards the Park family.

After years of dating with no potential courting news, you could feel the prying eyes of both the media and the upper social class. You weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t feel on edge about the pressure, mainly towards the heiress that always seemed to poke their nose with whatever they could salvage.

In their eyes, love is the greater cause of happiness but is a luxury they can’t effort to buy. In the end, money never ruins your mascara which is why they were grappling on the tether of hope that one day, the both of you would split.

You did not doubt Jay unconditionally, but you were human as well; a threat that could leave you undesirable in consideration for resources you lacked had been gnawing yourself-worth which you had occupied with the workload in making the Christmas dinner party possible.

In the end, you found safety in the confinements of Jieun about the brewing uneasiness you felt.

"I don't know," You sighed, searching your friend's face for an answer. "Maybe this whole thing would go away at one point. I think I'm overreacting to it.”

Jieun bit her lower lip, feeling hopeless about how to help you, but she gave you one soft look. "Still, I think you should at least talk to Jay about it."

"Talk about what with me?"

Speaking of the devil himself. The both of you turn towards the direction of the familiar voice; the sight of Jay walking your way had your heart pumping at the thought that he might have eavesdropped on the conversation you had with Jieun.

He wore his signature devilish smirk, a neat black suit tailored perfectly to his figure while the colour of the necktie matched with the couture dress you adorned. He stops to stand beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist smoothly with fingers moving to caress the curve.

"I thought I came here to save my damsel in distress, but it seemed like I was beaten to it." He joked, causing you to roll your eyes back and nudge his ribs teasingly.

"Better luck next time, lover boy." Jieun crossed her arms, a smug smirk plastered on her lips while shrugging her shoulder. "I guess my love for Y/N is untouchable to yours."

Jay mirrored her expression nonchalantly. "Maybe you should spare some for your poor husband right there." He gestured with his chin to a man at the far end of the grand lobby. "He looks like he could use some with the way he's chugging that bottle down."

Jieun turned rapidly that you didn't need to see her face to see the frustration plastered at the sight of her husband downing a glass bottle of liquor with a nervous server trying to stop him politely.

"Seriously? I told him to lay off the alcohol," She sighed exhaustively while massaging the pressure points of her temple, waving her hand to signal her departure. "I'll see you guys later during the dinner slate while I handle that idiot over there."

You wave back at her, one hand holding onto Jay’s forearm as he escorts you out of the grand lobby towards the dining hall through a secret corridor; you raise a curious eyebrow at him as the surrounding turns secluded; only you and him and the white noise coming from the guests afar.

"What are you doing, Park Jongseong?" You laughed as he backed you up against a wall; his hands found their way around your waist as you held onto his shoulder blades at the proximity.

"This is a kidnapping." You quip.

He broke into a contagious grin, leaning close that you feel his breath fanning the high points of your cheeks. "So I can't have a moment alone with my busy girlfriend?"

He leans down to kiss you on the lips, and you let out a breath at the moreish taste of his mouth against yours. You were glad you wore a transfer-proof lipstick, or not, you would have to break the lovely intimacy for public decency after reluctantly.

"I promised you, didn't I?" You said once he releases your lips. "That we'll elope together after all of this is done tomorrow, and you'll get to have me in any way possible."

"Any way possible, hm?" He teased, feeling the feather-like touches of his fingers running up your bare leg where the slit of your dress was located that you instinctively hitch a breath at the touch, goosebumps forming on the skin.

"Is that my Christmas present?" He asked sweetly, his voice an octave lower.

You gave him a slight smirk, patting his chest to give him a wake-up call. "If you behave well and keep your third leg in check until the event ends, then maybe I'll consider."

He clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

".....Fine." He sighed after a few seconds of sullen pause. It wasn't the end until he stole a peck at your lips, a satisfied smile on his face that you poked him on the stomach at how sneaky he was.

You did feel bad for him; the busy schedule the both of you experienced until the event was dreadful, and you didn't blame him for being too agitated, which says a lot since he had always been a patient man. However, you couldn't abandon your responsibility as a host, even though you want him as badly as he wanted you.

The evening kickoff with eloquent meals in the dining hall with sitting arrangements done to accommodate guests that attended to enjoy each other's company. Jay busied himself with Sunghoon and Jake in a deep conversation about the newest business venture beside you while you entertained Jieun and the other girls about their pursuits.

You didn't flinch when Jay placed his hands on your thighs under the table, hidden behind the excess white cloth that drapes over the edge. You didn't think much of it, reaching to drink a sip of champagne when his hands slowly drew closer to the inner section.

What game was he up to?

The side eye you gave him was ignored, and you didn't know if he was playing with you with how engrossed he was in the conversation.

That was until you almost knocked over the candlelit decoration with your elbow when he slipped past the slit on your dress until warm fingers made contact with the outer lips of your folds.

In a tight dress you wear right now for special occasions, you would opt to wear a thin tong so that your undergarments won't protrude. You didn't expect it to backfire on you at this moment as Jay easily pushed away the string and started caressing your cunt with two fingers.

Clamping your thighs together was in vain, forcing yourself to listen to the girls talking about something random, but, the pleasure was starting to make you lose your vicinity, only hearing muffled laughter and blurry vision.

You grab Jay's wrists to slow down his movement or warn him not to go any further. Wetness starts to pool on your folds, and with a quick motion, his thick fingers spread it along your pussy line before sliding his pointer finger into your hole.

The way the digit curled inward slightly caused you to bite hard on your lower lip to muffle the moans threatening to escape. A small knot was building in your stomach, wishing he’d move faster and rougher, but the fear of getting caught by the people around you was still evident in your consciousness.

A slight smirk curled on the corner of Jay's lips.

He didn't need to look at you to know that you were crumbling; he could feel your walls clenching around his finger while he agonisingly moved in and out of your slit. Jake's rambling didn't register in his mind as his thoughts were overflowing with how tight and wet your cunt was that he wished it was his hard cock in you instead.

You jerked forward when he inserted another finger to stretch you out; a little moan you let out managed to catch Jieun's attention.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" She asked you worriedly, your figure hunched slightly on the edge of your seat. With a cold sweat, furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks, you might have looked constipated in her eyes, but you managed to give her a tight smile underneath the pleasure you were feeling.

"I—I"m fine...." You breathe out when Jay finally slips his fingers out; an unpleasant heat settles at the bottom of your stomach. You weren't sure what was worse; being unable to reach your release or getting a couple of worried glances your way.

"I think—I need a breather." You declare, pushing a few strands of loose hair behind your ear before bracing yourself to stand up from your seat. The chair beside you creaks back, Jay's hands finding their way around your waist to aid you in your endeavour.

"Don't worry," He assured Jieun. "I'll take care of her. We'll be back in a minute."

Your gait was slightly wobbly due to how weak your knees were, leaning your weight on his side as Jay helped you leave out of the public’s eye and into the silent corridor where you let him drag your body to where he desired.

“I’ll take care of her, my ass.” You gritted through your teeth, low under your breath, only for him to hear.

Jay wanted to laugh in amusement, as he does after catching sight of you being a cute mess with what he did, but his own carnal needs urge him to walk faster and open the door to a sequestered bathroom.

“Fuck the present,” He cursed. You watch him remove his jacket, throwing it aggressively on the floor with a dark and glossy gaze. “Nothing can beat how much I want you so bad right now.”

Jay presses his body tight against yours with his hands on your waist, the marbled edge of the sink digging at your back and his raging hard bulge on your abdomen. Your core throb at the thought of his big and girthy cock stuffing your hole, fingers clawing at his shoulders for support when he propels you to sit on the sink’s surface.

“You know, I’ve been holding back from fucking you over the table where everyone can see.” You whimpered as he licked your neck near the pulse, your thighs flush against his hips where he stood towering over your figure between your legs.

“I thought you’ll put up more of a fight,” He teased, hands moving to ride the skirt of your dress up. He groans when you hump against his clothed dick desperately, fingers digging into the back of your thighs. “But you took my fingers so well like a little slut, didn’t you?”

“Jongseong.” You whined, feeling your pussy getting soaked at his words. It didn’t help that the string of your thong was wedged against your sensitive folds every time you moved your hips.

Jay’s chest vibrates when he chuckles. “Look at you. I’ve only used my fingers and you’re already shaking.” He cooed softly as you buried your face in his neck, loving how he was in control of you now.

“I can’t believe your pussy was bare sitting next to me.” He said as you watched him drop to his knee, leaning back on the palm of your hands as you opened your legs wide for him to see. You shudder when he moves the pathetic drenched string to the side.

”To think that this—” He dragged his index finger on your soaked folds, watching your juices drool along his finger with an eager stare.

“and this—” You note how raw he groaned in the end, pulling on the flesh of your outer lips to reveal your swollen clit to him, all pink and perfectly ready to be devoured.

“—could have been in my fucking mouth instead of dinner”, He complained.

You moaned incoherently as he leaned to press his tender lips on the bud, tongue flat on it enough to make you grab a bunch of his silky hair. He swirls his wet tongue up and down your folds in a hungry manner as you open your legs wider. The tension you felt before rekindled in your stomach the more he mouthed your heat sloppily.

“Hmm, feels so good.” You purred, hearing the erotic wet sound of him eating you out echoed in the bathroom.

He hummed against your cunt in satisfaction, your lips spilling out sweet praises fueled him to completely lap at your clenching hole until you were bucking into his face.

Jay looked up from between your legs, watching the way you threw your head back with your eyes closed attentively. You moved your hips to the pace of his tongue, distracted by the high pleasure that you didn’t notice something cold slipping into your ring finger.

“Wait, don’t— I was so close!” You sobbed when he detached his lips from your cunt, a couple of sweat dripping down your temple. You curl your toes, feeling your orgasm again, humming down at the loss of stimulation.

“Slow down, sweetheart.” Jay stood back up, kissing you with your essence still in his mouth, letting you taste yourself as he sucked on your lower lip until your head was spinning.

“I have something far better than my mouth waiting for you.”

He hauled you on your feet before turning you around, bending you over until your chest was flushed on the sink counter with your ass facing him. The sound of his belt clicking open reach your ears; a rough shove of your skirt exposes the way your hole clenches around your arousal in anticipation.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He taunts, a hand resting on your waist to steady your lower half. “Stay still, don’t move your hips.”

Jay pumped his cock in his hand, spreading precum on his length before easing into you slowly. You were so deprived of any form of penetration that you writh with just his swollen head stretching your entrance. The more Jay sinks into you, the more he can feel your core pulsate and squeeze around his hot length deliciously.

“Relax, baby. Let me in.” Jay spoke softly, hugging you from behind and intertwining his fingers with yours lovingly, contrasting with how he drilling his cock into you inch by inch.

“I—I know, but—fuck! You’re so big.“ You choked out, winching with every forward push of his hips.

Jay pampered your nape with butterfly kisses, his hair tickling the back of your ear as he whispered closely. “You can take it. You’ve done it before.”

Your grip his fingers once he bottoms out, and your walls spasm over his cock to adjust to his size as you struggle to take all of him. You were a panting mess underneath his body, and an uncomfortable twitch resided in your lower abdomen as you felt him reach your deepest spot.

Jay let out a few filthy words at how tight you were, wanting no more than to thrust his cock to relieve the tension, but he knew you needed some time to adapt for you to feel and enjoy the same pleasure as he does.

“My baby, you did so well. Look how good you take my cock.” His praises, gathering your hair in a bundle to give you some space to breathe.

You swallow down the lump in your throat; the initial discomfort soon fades as waves of pleasure make you buck your hips back to crave more. You felt Jay’s hand return to the space on your waist at the positive gesture.

“Jongseong, you can move.” You breathe out. His grip tightens to brace you with what’s to come, nodding his head at your command.

Jay’s thrusts were delicate initially, slow and sensual for you to feel his engorged cock in a soft rhythm that ignited the butterflies in your stomach. When you let out a stream of lewd moans with every snap of his hips and pushing back against him, he put more strength into his thrust that the sound of flesh smacking drowns the cries you let out.

“Miss this tight cunt in me— fucking hell, you’re sucking me in so well.” He sighs when you tense around his length at a particular spot, wasting no time to repeatedly hit the same place until you are pushed up higher against the marbled surface.

The familiar heated feeling grows viscous in your stomach, legs shaking with every feral movement of his hips with heavy balls slapping your flesh. With the combined stimulation from the previously failed orgasms attempted, you grew more desperate to reach your high.

When he slipped down to play with your swollen clit, a deft finger flicking the pearl back and forth aimlessly, your back arched at the intense pleasure coursing through your body. A flushed heat blooms on your skin, knees weak with white spots starting to appear at the corners of your vision.

“Jongseong, please, don’t stop.” You sob out, the release you need teetering at the edge of your sanity.

“I won’t, baby.” He replied, enamoured with the pleasure of you in his arms. “I’ll stay like this forever until you cum for me, okay?”

He continues with his ministration, one hand holding onto your waist to pound you from behind while the other down your pussy to thumb your clit. With his chest pressed on your back, he bit the outer shell of your ear before whispering.

“Cum for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you came undone on his cock— inundating you with a sense of solace to reach your climax finally. With a few more quick drags of his cock in you, Jay groaned as he filled you up with his thick load, rutting you through your orgasm in a rapt manner that had your toes curling.

You wish the both of you could stay connected like this forever, but reality hits you like a brick when the afterglow of your orgasm finally washes over.

He took your jaw in his hand, craning your neck behind to capture your lips with his; a sloppy wet kiss shared between you two was lethal to your heart at the amount of love he projected.

He pulled out of you once he was done, ropes of his warm cum dripping down your inner thighs.

“Jay,” You call him out, leaning onto your elbows as you wait for him to finish wiping you down before turning around to face him. “You’re fucking crazy.”

He let out a hearty laugh, taking you into his embrace as the both of you had one thing in mind when you left the place looking like this; hair in a frenzy, clothes oddly wrinkled, a light pink tint to the cheeks— you were sure that your lipstick had lost its vivid colour.

“They definitely know we fucked.” You reminded him in embarrassment.

He shakes his head confidently. “Not when they see your engagement ring.”

A sceptical look crosses your face before it morphs into shock and horror when you realise a beautiful golden band with an embellished clear diamond at the centre of your finger. Jay watches you with a sincere expression as you inspect the ring gleaming under the bathroom light.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Wha—”

“I might not get a present, but I did get you one. Also, don‘t worry—” Jay rests his forehead against yours, a smug smile on his lips.

“I was on my knee when I slipped it on you.”

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A Holiday Special: ➜ Jay

| ➜ Heeseung | ➜ Jake | ➜ Sunghoon |

#enhypen smut #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enha #enhypen drabbles #park jongseong #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #jay oneshots #enhypen blubs #jay imagines

[oizysian]

hey, I love your writing! I wanted to request an elizabeth olsen x female reader fic smut where reader is also an actress and for a movie she needs to have a hot makeout scene with an actor (and reader agrees to do it only after seeking Lizzie’s permission ofcourse) and while lizzie thinks she would be okay with it, afterall its only work. But when she witnesses the shooting of the scene and the retakes and the post production final cut… yes she is feeling things. And so she and u have some fun time in bed and as she completely destroys u all she has in her head is “mine.” Its okay if u dont write it too, no pressure! :)

Bliss | Elizabeth Olsen

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fingering (R receiving), lots of kisses, possessive/jealous Lizzie

AN: thank you so much! I’m getting to all my anons slowly, but requests are still open (always)!

•

“Are you really sure it’s okay?” She asked for probably the millionth time.

“Yes, dove,” Elizabeth laughed, kissing Y/N’s forehead. “It’s perfectly okay. I do it all the time and I’ll be there watching so I know there won’t be any funny business.” She teased.

“No funny business from me.” Y/N smiled. “I’m completely obsessed with you.” She wrapped her arms around her girlfriends neck. “I’m gonna imagine it’s you the whole time.”

Lizzie laughed again.

“Better not think it’s me too much. I don’t want it going farther than it has to.”

Y/N scrunched up her nose and smiled up at her, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“You don’t have any stubble so that’ll definite ruin the immersion.”

“Good.” She tilted her head slightly so she could kiss her fully, slipping her tongue past her full lips, tongues and teeth clashing as they both expressed without words how much they meant to each other.

Y/N pulled away first, panting softy as she looked up at the puffy, pink lips of her girlfriend.

“It’s almost time for us to go. Brendan and I are shooting our scene today.”

“And Brendan better keep it professional.”

“He will.” She giggled, giving her a quick peck before releasing her and walking towards the door to retrieve her shoes.

Y/N knew that Lizzie would be keeping watch like a guard dog the whole time and the thought made her giddy and warm with love. She had never had someone so protective, so loving towards her before. It was something new that she never wanted to lose.

“Are you ready?” She asked as she slipped on her sneakers, Lizzie nodding at her before grabbing her car keys off the table.

“Ready.”

•

After Y/N had her hair and makeup done, she was ready for her first kissing scene with a man. Or anyone, actually. This was her first big film and she had only accepted the job after making sure it was okay with her girlfriend a thousand times. She assured her time and time again that it would be fine, but Y/N was still a nervous wreck.

Lizzie watched as the actors got into position, feeling very odd being on the opposite side of the camera for once. She smiled at Y/N, an encouraging, loving smile, letting her know she would do great – and Lizzie knew she would. Y/N was a fantastic up and coming talent and she only hoped she’d be able to work beside her girlfriend one day.

“Alright everyone! This is scene twenty-two, take one!”

Everyone got quiet and all eyes were on Y/N and her co-star Brendan. They both looked quite frightened, smiling at each other and giggling at their nervousness. Lizzie felt a pang of jealousy bubble up in her chest at the sight. No, this was just a job. She watched seen Elizabeth do a sex scene, for gods sake – this was just a kiss.

“And … action!”

Instantly, Y/N went from nervous to professional, as did Brendan, and they began to act out their scene. Lizzie watched in awe as her girlfriend actually made it believable that she was in love with this man, and held her breath as they got closer and closer to each other.

The kiss was passionate and fiery to onlookers, but Y/N would describe it as chaste and flavorless. As much as she tried to imagine she was kissing Elizabeth, the harsh reality of the kiss was brushing against her face – stubble was not a nice feeling.

“And, cut! Beautiful work, you two! Have a nice break.”

They parted, Y/N instantly pulling away from her co-star and smiling politely at him, congratulating him on a job well done. She looked from Brendan to Lizzie and could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears. Her eyes her deep, dark green and her lips were pursed.

Y/N walked up to her, taking her hand and tugging on it before speaking to her.

“How’d I do?”

Lizzie shifted her eyes from Brendan, who she was staring daggers at, to Y/N, her gaze softening at how innocent her girlfriend was.

“You did amazing, baby. I believed it.” She let out a shaky laugh and Y/N smiled slightly at the compliment.

“Thank you. It was so hard to imagine it was you with that stubble brushing against my chin.”

She smiled up at Lizzie and she did her best to return the gesture. Seeing Y/N with someone else did something to her. She couldn’t quite explain it, but it made her want to claim her, make it so that Y/N would never look at anyone else ever.

•

“What’d you think of the movie?” Y/N asked softly, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked over at her girlfriend who barely said a word after watching it.

“I thought it was good.” She rolled over to face her, but couldn’t help gritting her teeth at the memory of Y/N kissing someone that wasn’t her. “You were fantastic.”

“You think so?” She blushed, the pink hue traveling down towards the fullness of her breasts, coloring her normally pale skin.

She nodded and brought her hand up to stroke her cheek. Y/N leaned into her touch, almost purring at the affection and praise she was receiving.

“You just …” she spoke quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment. “You just seemed so quiet after we watched it. I thought you might not have liked it.”

“I did.” She assured her, her thumb stroking the softness of her cheek. “I just …”

Y/N tilted her head in question, waiting for her to continue.

“Seeing you with someone else … made me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

“What’d you feel?” She asked nervously.

“Jealousy. The urge to just take you. Make you mine.”

“I am yours.” Y/N assured her, and Lizzie nodded.

“I know.”

Y/N slid herself closer to her girlfriend, burying her face in the crook of her neck and kissing her softly.

“Why don’t you then?” She whispered.

“Hm?” Lizzie questioned.

“Take me.”

Without another word, Lizzie flipped them over, peppering Y/N’s neck with hot, open mouthed kisses, leaving a trail down her body as she reached her breasts that were covered by a flimsy tank top.

Lizzie sat on top of her, tugging the garment up and over her head and tossing it off the bed. She latched onto one of her nipples before Y/N could even register that she was topless, and she grabbed a fistful of golden locks as her tongue swirled around the hardened bud.

“Lizzie,” she moaned softly, her eyes falling shut as she felt her teeth sink gently into her sensitive flesh. “Need you.”

Her hands greedily grabbed at her hips, lifting them up so she could slide her shorts and panties off. The rest of her clothes met with the forgotten tank top and before anything else could be said, Lizzie pressed two fingers against her aching cunt, pushing them inside slowly.

“Ahh, Lizzie!” She cried out, her hips bucking as her strong fingers pumped in and out of her, curling when they were at the deepest point to hit her most sensitive spot.

Lizzie’s other hand gripped at her thigh, raising it up and wrapping it around her waist as she fucked her. She released her breast with a pop, leaving a dark, wet hickey behind. She smiled proudly at her work and raised herself back up so she could capture her lips with her own, claiming her mouth.

Y/N moaned softly as Lizzie took her completely, her tongue exploring her mouth, her fingers fucking her pussy.

Y/N rocked against her hand, her nails digging into the skin of Lizzie’s back as she fucked her hard and fast.

“You want more?” She asked breathlessly and she nodded eagerly.

She slipped herself out for just a second to then reenter her with three fingers, her thumb swirling around her throbbing clit. Y/N was seeing stars as she got fucked, her moans becoming pathetic whimpers.

“I feel you … fucking tight … you gonna cum for me?” She panted between kisses.

“Yes,” she whined, looking into the beautiful eyes of her girlfriend. “I’m gonna …”

Her jaw fell slack as she came, and Lizzie took this opportunity to slip her tongue back into her mouth, kissing her passionately. She swallowed her desperate moans, wanting to claim every inch of her; every sound, every motion she made, Lizzie wanted to keep for herself.

“My beautiful girl,” Lizzie whispered softly against her lips, watching as the other girl came down from her high. “And all mine.”

Y/N looked up at her with heavy eyes, smiling lazily at her words.

“I told you,”

She slipped her fingers out of her wetness, bringing them up to her mouth and sucking them clean.

Lizzie’s mind was full of Y/N. She was surrounded by her; her smell, her taste, the feel of her. All she could think about was making her scream with pleasure all night, giving her hickeys all over her body and leaving her completely blissed out. She knew that nobody else would make her feel like this, and she knew she wouldn’t want to mark her territory on anyone else. Y/N was all that she wanted.

“I’m yours.”

#oizysian writes #elizabeth olsen x yn #elizabeth olsen story #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen smut #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen #smut

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

How to Get Inspired to Write and Regain Creativity

The muses are fickle, especially when it comes to writers. Sometimes inspiration strikes at the worst of times—while working, in the middle of the night, etc.—and other times it refuses to strike at all. How do you get inspired to start a project, especially when you haven’t written in a very long time? 

Here are some tips and tricks that may help you get back into the writing groove.

1. Is It Writer’s Block You’re Worried About?

This post is meant to be a resource for people who don’t have any current projects or haven’t written/worked on their current projects in a very long time due to lack of inspiration and motivation. 

In contrast, “writer’s block” is usually used in reference to having a load of inspiration and motivation to write but struggling with a mental “block” that prevents you from doing so. 

These two overlap a lot, though, so if nothing on this post is working, you can find my post on combatting writer's block here!

For some extra help to get the ball rolling once you've regained inspiration, also check out the "Getting Started" section of my FAQ!

2. Set Aside Time to Be Creative

Oftentimes, creativity and inspiration can be lost due to a busy schedule. Life happens! Work, school, and a variety of other things could be restricting your ability to write or do creative things consistently. All it takes is one busy week, or month, or year, and now you feel like you’ve been thrown off of the carousel of creativity and can’t find your way back on again!

The key to combatting this is blocking out an hour or two (every day or every week) that you can use to spend time writing. Set a timer or alarm and put your phone aside (it is your enemy! It can and WILL distract you!) and sit down with the intent to write. Even if you get nothing done, getting in a creative headspace is still incredibly helpful! Baby steps!!!

By blocking out a specific length of time and putting it in your calendar, you can mentally prep to be creative and also can assure that you have ample time to get the juices flowing without worrying about being interrupted.

3.  Check Out Some Writing Prompts

Sometimes, it can be easier to start writing if you’re told what to write. A lot of writers find prompts helpful as warm-up exercises, and use them for projects on the side when they’re taking a rest from their current WIP.

It could be helpful to find a couple of prompts and see what cool things you can come up with! Even if they don’t seem like something you’d want to work on long-term, the very act of writing in and of itself will wake your “writing muscles” back up and get them in the groove of being creative again.

You can check out #writing prompts on my blog, or check out these amazing prompt blogs:

@writing-prompt-s

@creativepromptsforwriting

@promptsforthestrugglingauthor

@daily-prompts

@promptsonpaper

4. Write Fanfiction (If you’re just struggling with original works)

Fanfiction is a great way to get back into being creative because all of the hardest parts about getting started (character creation, setting, lore, etc.) have already been done for you. You don’t have to post your fanfiction or even complete your fic, just write a short scene or story about two characters with pre-established backstories, personalities, and dynamics. It’ll get you back into the basics of describing setting and writing dialogue. 

5. Make a Fun Playlist or Pinterest Board

Making fun playlists or Pinterest boards based on a certain genre, character, or piece of media you like can really get the creative juices flowing! After all, having a playlist to listen to that perfectly encapsulates the mood, tone, and pacing of your scene or story can really get you inspired! And with a Pinterest board for visual references to back you up, descriptions can come a whole lot easier!

I don't really use Pinterest except for art references, but if you don’t want to make your own writing playlist, feel free to borrow some of mine! Just a note: I find words in music very distracting when I write, so all of these are instrumental. Sorry if it’s not your cup of tea! 

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental playlists.

6. Read!

I know. It’s hard. And I can’t even talk; I haven’t read a proper book in a year, probably. For me, the hardest part is starting; I drag my feet for months before finally picking up a book, whip through a good chunk of it in one or two sittings, but once I put it down, I never return to it. But reading is an excellent way to get inspired as a writer, and to improve your way of writing! 

By learning and getting inspiration from fellow writers, you not only get an idea of the creative possibilities, but also learn how different writers work their process. Fanfiction counts, too!

7. Get a Writing Buddy!

Sometimes, creative things such as writing can be hard because they’re traditionally a “solo sport” so to speak.

But having a writing buddy, someone to just be in the room or on call with you while you both be creative together, can do loads for your inspiration. Sure, there’s a chance that you’ll just distract each other and fool around, but if you really work to hold each other accountable, even getting into the creative headspace is a great way to start.

Also, you have a partner to bounce ideas off of!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

#long post #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #inspo #writing inspo #writing ref #writing reference #writing inspiration #inspiration #writeblr #booklr

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 5

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is falling- leaves from the trees, rain from the sky, you for Eddie, and Eddie for you.

Word Count: 10.1 K

A/N: Big thanks to @the-unforgivenn (happy birthday❤️) for all of the help you gave me on this chapter, and honestly this whole fic in general. You've been an invaluable part of the writing process of this story, and the fact that you care so much about Eddie & Ace just makes me feel so loved... you don't even know. Ily wifey✨

Thank you @vintagehellfire for your priceless tattoo knowledge- I hope I did you proud!!

Also thanks to @blueywrites for helping me decide on what Eddie would tattoo on reader back in our Tumblr DMs in June😂 y'all that's how long I've had this scene in my brain. This part of the story has been a long time coming.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Fall, 1983

“Rick, are you serious, man?”

“Dead serious, I’ll sell it to you for twenty.”

You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached the red plastic picnic table in Forest Hills trailer park. Today was the first day of fall, and while it may not have felt like biting cold and crunchy leaves yet, it did feel like flannels tied around waists and long-dead grass that broke beneath the soles of your shoes. You hopped up onto the surface of the table, swinging your feet around to rest beside Eddie where he sat on the bench. 

“Sell what?” you asked, producing three cans of Coke from your bag that you’d brought from home and handing one to each of the boys. Rick had grown accustomed to your presence since the spring, so he actually cracked a smile when he answered your question and nodded in thanks as he accepted the can.

“Munson wants to buy my old tattoo gun.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?” you asked Eddie.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick. “And I’m wondering what the catch is if you’re selling it to me for so cheap.” 

You cracked open your can of soda with a hiss, joining Eddie in his Rick stare-down. “Hmm,” you mused, “I bet he forgot to clean it and it’s staph-infested.”

“Nope,” Rick popped the ‘p’ after taking a swig from his shiny red can. “Never been used, so I can guarantee it’s staph-free. Always meant to use it, but after that brush with the cops I had last month, I don’t want to risk having it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie, trying to discern whether or not he’d thought about the fact that if he bought it, then he would be in possession of paraphernalia for illegal Indiana activities. 

Then again, you knew he smoked weed and that was most definitely against the law as well, and he hadn’t been caught yet. You trusted him not to be stupid enough to get arrested.

You turned your line of questioning on Eddie. “Why on earth do you need a tattoo gun anyway?”

“Well you see, Ace-” Eddie lifted one of your feet up from the bench, straightening your leg and presenting your right shoe- your white converse, half covered in mythical creatures and random doodles that Eddie had slowly been adding to with his fine-tipped Sharpie ever since you’d bought them in early August. “-it seems that I need a canvas for my art, and it won’t be long before I run out of shoe.” 

You quirked an eyebrow. “So now people are the canvas?” 

Eddie held up his arms, bare skin nearly translucent in the afternoon sun. His nearly-too-small Iron Maiden tee showcased just how much bare skin he had to spare along the contours of his limbs. “If by people you mean me, then yeah.” 

“You’re going to tattoo yourself?”

“Yep!”

“Without practicing on someone else first?”

Eddie smirked, “You volunteering?”

You rolled your eyes, but for some odd reason the idea stuck. You decided to play along. 

“Let’s say I am, what would the tattoo be?” 

Eddie hadn’t anticipated this answer. He was so surprised, in fact, that he choked on the soda that he’d just sipped into his mouth before your question. In a cacophony of coughs and wheezes, Eddie managed to regain his composure as you smiled wryly, feeling as though you’d bested him somehow in some small way. To fluster him with something as small as this, something he hadn’t expected. 

“You’re serious? You want a tattoo?” Eddie responded skeptically, before turning away from you to fiddle with his soda can still held in his hands. 

You shrugged, as if he were asking if you wanted a pizza, not a permanent brand inked on your skin. “Why not? I think I’d look pretty badass with a tattoo.” 

You weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold today, but you had a feeling it might be related to the thought of Eddie covered in ink that wound up and down his skin that was making you ache to touch it when it was still naked and peach-pale. You scooched a couple inches down the tabletop to the left, placing your seat directly behind Eddie’s neck. 

Then, in a stroke of something between bravery, stupidity, and need, you carefully slung your legs over Eddie’s shoulders so that they sat in the bends of your knees.

It was a simple gesture- familiar, even. You made a point to lean back a little, bracing your hands behind you on the tabletop so that the apex of your thighs stayed a good distance from the back of Eddie’s neck. You felt Eddie’s shoulders stiffen, each muscle under your jeans tensing for a moment before relaxing into the closeness. 

Then Eddie brought his hands to your ankles, his fingertips brushing the spare skin between your high tops and the cuffs of your jeans. The pads of his thumbs barely caressed the skin but they felt like a kiss- a thing coveted and then forbidden, then coveted even more. 

His touch drifted over your legs, warm hands coming to rest over your shins and squeeze, heating the denim that separated his skin from yours. You were holding your breath. You’d been so confident a second ago yet here he was, knocking the very air from your lungs. 

You waited anxiously for him to say something; if he didn’t you were sure you were going to do something stupid. Something that would involve more of his skin on your skin.

“Would you want this tattoo of yours to show?” Eddie asked at last, breaking the silence between the two of you- well, the three of you. Rick was still there, taking in the sight before him with a smirk on his face. 

“Not easily, my parents would kill me.” you said, ensuring that your tone of voice was nonchalant, casual. “But I don’t see the harm in something small that I could hide.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and up, earthen eyes flicking up to yours. “What happened to ‘looking badass’?”

You pursed your lips as you leaned forward, bringing your faces to hover parallel over each other. “You’re saying that taking my pants off to reveal a surprise tatty isn’t badass?”

You watched as Eddie’s eyes flashed darker for a split second- nearly imperceptibly so- before his lips stretched sinfully into a mischievous grin. “Oh, under the pants then, huh?” 

His hands traced higher, ghosting on your knees and burning his fingerprints through your jeans. 

“Easy to hide,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “It’s a practical placement.”

Eddie’s thumbs stroked absentminded circles into the flesh of your lower thighs, tight denim puckering with the motion. “Practical placement…” he murmured, low enough that it sounded like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. 

“You could put it on your hip.”

Both of your heads whipped around to focus on Rick, who was grinning at both of you like he’d just discovered a fun new game to play. He shrugged, hopping up to sit beside you on the tabletop. “You want it to be hidden all of the time, right?” he leaned to shove you congenially with his shoulder. “When’s a good girl like you gonna be showing off some hip? I bet the only one who’ll see that will already be married to you when he lays eyes on-”

“Hey!” you interjected. “You act like I’m some prude, I’m not a nun.” Rolling your eyes, you looked back down at Eddie hoping to meet his gaze and laugh together over how ridiculous Rick was being. However, you looked down only to find Eddie’s chocolate browns trained on Rick with wide-eyed warning. A silent message was clearly being exchanged, but it wasn’t for you.

Rick was smiling smugly down at Eddie, unbeknownst to you, and Eddie was getting the message loud and clear:

It’s time to raise the stakes, kid. 

“Perfect!” Rick chirped, smug eyes still trained on Eddie’s. “So you wouldn’t mind letting Eddie use your hip as his, uh… canvas, then?”

If Eddie’s looks could kill, Rick would be a dead man. 

“Yeah.” you choked out, refusing to give yourself time to chicken out of what you’d gotten yourself into. “Yeah, why not?”

***

Rainy days in autumn just felt right.

Sure, you were in Latin class. Sure, you were supposed to be working on a packet the substitute teacher had just passed out. However, it was raining outside. The sub was easygoing enough that she hadn’t made a move to stop Eddie from doodling on your shoe that was perched comfortably on the crook of his hip. 

You sat behind him in every class you had together- there were four of them this year- and Eddie had gotten into the habit of reaching back to tap you on the leg whenever he knew he was losing focus. Every time he tapped, you would carefully stretch your leg forward until his hand caught on your ankle, lifting it up until it rested on his lap. His sharpie would go to work on whatever blank spots he could still find on your white converse, and the mindless activity of his drawing would keep his mind awake enough to listen as teachers droned on and on. 

The change in Eddie wasn’t lost on his teachers- they had all noticed the impact that your company seemed to have on him, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t had any issues with your constant companionship. When you were around, Eddie actually paid attention in his classes and turned in work- that was good enough for them.

The silence of the classroom and the soundtrack of rainfall beating against the roof and windows had created the perfect work zone for you, and your focus on your classwork was only interrupted when you noticed a folded piece of torn notebook paper on the edge of your desk. 

Smirking as you felt Eddie continue doodling on your shoe, you unfolded the paper and read the slanted scrawl that you’d come to recognize instantly as Eddie’s handwriting. 

Were you serious about the tattoo thing? It’s OK if you’re not.

Your cheeks heated, contemplating whether you were still serious about it or not. The only fears you had about it were completely logical- Eddie had literally no clue what he was doing. Yours would only be his second tattoo after his own. Worst case scenario, the tattoo would get infected and you go to the hospital. Eddie gets arrested for tattooing without a medical license. Best case scenario… you get to sit there while he grips your naked thigh for as long as it takes to leave a permanent reminder of him on your hip. 

You blinked a couple of times, letting that mental image wash over you, before confidently penning your answer beneath his message. 

I’m serious. 

Folding the scrap of paper and handing it back to him, you felt his Sharpie leave your shoe as he took the note and read it. You watched him register the two words, glance back at you through the loose strands of hair that hung over his shoulder, then smile softly into a shake of his head. A second later, he was handing the note back to you.

If you say so, Ace. What am I tattooing, and where?

You had to think about it for a moment before passing back your answer

Hip is fine. What are you gonna do? We could match.

Eddie’s reply came faster than you’d ever seen him write any of his notes in class, that’s for damn sure.

You want matching tattoos?? Are you sure?

Your heart began to race. Was that bad? Was he judging you for wanting to match him? Maybe you were being too clingy, trying too hard… you glanced down at his jacket, which was wrapped around you almost every day at this point- it was practically a second skin. His handwriting was all over your shoes. You stared at your fingers, scarlet polish chipping from the tips of your nails, and you remembered that you’d chosen red solely because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color. 

Were you coming across as desperate? Were you weirding him out? Maybe you needed to dial it back-

A new piece of paper slid across your desk, Eddie’s eyes glancing your way with nothing but warmth in his gaze before he returned his attention to your shoe on his lap. 

I’m fine with it if you are. 

Putting bats on my forearm. 

You released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, giving ways for butterflies to take flight inside your chest. You grinned, jotting down your reply beneath his writing. 

I’m more than fine with it. 

Could you do just one little bat on my hip?

Eddie took a little longer this time with his response, and you understood why once you saw the adorably small silhouette of a bat penned in black on the paper he’d passed back to you. 

You leaned forward, letting your chin nearly brush the fabric of his denim jacket as you whispered low enough that the substitute teacher wouldn’t hear. 

“It’s perfect.”

A snicker from the other side of the classroom caught your ear. Eddie and you both turned to see a cluster of letter-jacketed assholes staring at the two of you, whispering and laughing with each other. 

You knew deep down that you didn’t care what they thought. You knew that you should just keep your head down. Ignore them. 

But then you caught the tail end of one of their sentences.

“...fucking freaks.”

Two things happened simultaneously: your eyebrows jumped, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The ringing of the bell was all you needed to angrily shove your belongings into your backpack and march over to the other side of the classroom, stopping the jocks in their tracks. Eddie was right behind you, tugging you back by the crook of your elbow as you steadily ignored his pleas to sit down and ignore them, they aren’t worth it.

“You want to repeat what you were saying over there, Alan?” You stared up at the freckled boy, his harsh features sneering down at you from where he stood nearly half a foot taller than you. His height did nothing to deter you, however. Neither did Eddie’s death grip on your arm.

Alan snorted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you before him. His eyes flicked over you, appraising for about two seconds before directing his attention to Eddie behind you. “You letting your girl pick your fights for you now, Munson?” 

Eddie didn’t have a chance to respond; you didn’t give him one. “Don’t look at him.” you stepped forward, bringing you mere inches from the freckled football star. “I asked you a question.”

Alan and his cronies laughed, apparently amused by the show of dominance you were trying to make. You opened your mouth to berate him further, but the sharp tug on your arm from Eddie was strong enough this time to jerk you away from them and toward the door of the classroom. 

“Wh- Eddie, quit it!” you tried to shake off his grip but it wasn’t going to budge; Eddie marched you out the door and down the hallway like a man on a mission. 

“Yeah, Eddie, quit it!” You both could hear Alan’s patronizing whine from the classroom, his voice thrown into a reedy falsetto that made your blood boil. His voice trailed off, melting into the nasal snickers of his friends.

Eddie didn’t let go of your arm until the two of you reached his locker, at which point he finally looked you in the eye- and his stare embodied an intensity that you hadn’t seen from him ever before. You’d seen him intense, of course… just not like this. 

This looked like fear. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Eddie bit out, his teeth clenched and eyes wide. 

You crossed your arms, suddenly defensive. Had you messed up, somehow? “I… I mean, they were calling us names, I wasn’t going to just sit there.”

“Alan’s an illiterate asshole, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“I know I don’t need to, but…” You chuckled humorlessly, that familiar vengeful feeling from moments ago beginning to bubble back up. “You know what, no. I do need to. I’m not the kind of person who can just sit there while jerks like him run around slandering good people, it’s wrong!”

Eddie huffed, his hands on his hips as he glanced around and shook his head. “Slandering, huh? That’s a big word, Ace. What’s that, the college word of the day?” You raised an eyebrow, watching him closely and curiously. 

He was fidgeting nonstop, repeatedly picking up his feet and replacing them on the floor only an inch or so away from where they’d been before. His eyes darted in every direction, as if scanning for potential threats so that he could run from them before they decided to pounce. 

“Eddie, why are you so afraid of those guys?” 

Big brown eyes widened to saucers, refocusing on you. “This isn’t fear, Ace, it’s just common sense.” Eddie checked over his shoulder to ensure the jocks were gone, then took a step closer. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, lifting his opposite arm to gently place his hand on your upper arm. You shivered, feeling his thumb trace small circles through his own black leather. Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all of a sudden, you pondered, leaning closer to Eddie. He’s given me his armor. 

You lowered your voice, sympathetic to Eddie’s plight. “You know I wouldn’t let them hurt you, Eds.” Looking up into his eyes, you expected to see them soften, gratitude coating his gaze. Instead, they widened and crinkled slightly at the edges. Eddie huffed out a gaudy laugh, incredulous at your admission.

“Hurt me?” he shook his head, stunned, and began to rifle through his locker for the books he needed for next class. “Ace, I just don’t want them to hurt you!”

You balked. “Me?” an eyebrow raised, you crossed your arms over your chest, defensive once again. “You really think they’d hit a girl? They’re jerks but I don’t think they’d go that far-”

“Nah, they’ll only sick their girlfriends on you.” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a slam of his locker door. “Purebred harpies with matching scrunchies who’ll make your life a living hell and then pretend that you’re the crazy one.”

It was a struggle to keep up with him at the rate he was walking, strides each a yard wide as he tugged you along by your hand. 

Your hand. Eddie Munson was holding your hand. 

“You, uh… you speaking from experience?” You stuttered over your words, cheeks heating at the sudden skin-to-skin contact. He had just admitted that he didn’t want to see you get hurt- his blatant protectiveness of you coupled with the way he was decisively dragging you by the hand to your locker right now was nearly too much for you to handle. 

“Trust me,” Eddie sighed, swinging you around as he reached your locker and (to your dismay) letting go of your hand. “You get asked out on a dare enough times, you figure out how their coven operates.” 

Eddie wasn’t meeting your eyes. You had to actually place your hand on his shoulder to capture his gaze. “Eddie,” you said, making a conscious effort to keep your voice steady and be something stable for him to feel at least a little grounded on. “Deep breath.”

Surprisingly, he did as you said. Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deep and allowing his lungs to fill long enough that his chest expanded before his exhale blew softly on your cheeks. It smelled like the apple you’d brought for him at lunch.

 When you were once again treated to that warm hazelnut gaze, your hand acted without thinking and flew up to gently rest against his jawline. You were crossing some invisible line- you knew that- but the light in the hallway was causing shadows to take up residence in the dusting of whiskers that decorated the sharp incline that led to his chin. Your fingertips brushed his skin reverently, and he seemed frozen. Eddie didn’t dare move; you were like a butterfly that had deigned to land on him of all people, and damn it all if he was going to fuck it up and scare you off. 

“I’ve got you, you’ve got me… right?” Your voice was barely loud enough to be heard through the noise of bustling students. “We look out for each other, Eddie, we’re stronger together.” 

Eddie remained still under your caress, wishing he could focus on your touch. Wishing he could rip his eyes away from where they were trained behind you- held in terrified contact with a sadistic-looking Alan who stood with his cherry-lipsticked girlfriend across the hallway. Alan’s lips were curled into a sneer, watching as the thing that Eddie wanted most became his worst nightmare.

You were openly touching him, while wearing his clothes, standing in shoes covered with his drawings- and Eddie watched in horror as the harpy pushed up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Alan’s ear before both of them refocused not on Eddie, but on you. 

They laughed like fucking heyenas, eyeing their next meal. 

It took every ounce of self control Eddie had, but he gently took your hand in his and lowered it from his cheek. He ignored the way your eyes gazed up at him the same way a scorned puppy begged for some kind of affection, any confirmation that they are, indeed, loved. 

“It’s the together part I’m worried about, Ace.” Eddie whispered, keeping his voice low. 

You were quiet, which Eddie hated because it was his fault.

“Oh, and um-” Eddie raised his shoulders and shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms to warm himself with the friction. “-it’s a little chilly today… you mind if I wear the jacket?” His hand drifted down to the flannel that hung loosely tied around your waist, taking a corner of the material and feeling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“This’ll keep you warm, yeah?” 

You stared blankly for a moment, stunned. You had nearly forgotten that the jacket was his to take. You’d assumed he liked that you always wore his jacket, but… perhaps you’d made that up. You were eager for him to want things like that, after all… ‘more than friends’ kinds of things. However, asking for a borrowed item to be returned was completely normal for friends. You chided yourself for reading too much into it and smiled warmly up at him.

“Yeah! Of course!” you sprung into action, setting your backpack down on the floor as you began to shrug off the jacket. “You’re right it’s frigid in here today.” 

You handed the jacket to Eddie, who donned it with a thin-lipped smile. Parting ways for your next class, you departed in opposite directions down the hallway. 

Upon arriving in your calculus class, you glanced out the window eager to zone out as you watched the rain, only to be greeted by a gray sky drained of its water. The rain’s reprieve left nothing in its wake but a tired sun, soft mist that obscured all surety, and packed Indiana dirt softened to mud too loose for one to find their footing. 

The sort of mud that, should you try to walk through it, you’d be destined to slip and fall. 

***

When Eddie thought of Halloween, he thought of blood and sugar. 

It was a strange contradiction, the way that Halloween’s association with horror and gore had balanced itself out with candy corn and fun-sized Snickers bars, and yet the juxtaposition of the two brought a smile to his face. The combination of sweet and terrifying embodied the holiday perfectly. On Halloween, there was no need for any kind of steely exterior that might protect him from judgment. No need to hide the way he really feels behind the scary metalhead armor he’d so carefully curated as a defense mechanism. 

On Halloween, he wasn’t just allowed to be a freak. He was celebrated for it. 

On Halloween, he could just be. 

It was the reason why Halloween just so happened to be the day he’d had enough courage to look through your bedroom window exactly four years ago. It’s the day when Hell meets Heaven to make something sweet, and anything can happen.

Anything- including matching tattoos on the floor of his trailer. 

Everything was ready- Eddie had laid out sheets of newspaper to cover what he’d deemed the tattoo zone, and broken down a cardboard box to act as a stable surface on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie had scrutinized every instruction he’d been able to wrench from Rick for how to work the tattoo machine. Grips, needles, fucking rubber bands that were apparently very necessary… he’d made sure he had it all. He’d even practiced on an orange that he’d swiped from the kitchen counter.

A thick black cable now snaked across his carpeted floor, connecting the machine to a pedal, the pedal to a power supply, and the power supply to the yellowed plastic outlet on his wall. Beside the machine sat a stack of paper towels and all sorts of other shit Rick had advised him to make sure he used. He was lucky that Rick had bought a bottle of black ink- Eddie wouldn’t have known where to seek out medical-grade ink in a state where it was illegal to ink your skin without a license. 

Your knock at his door made Eddie jump; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It would be easy to write his nerves off as adrenaline before his first tattoo, but who was he kidding- it was you. You’d gone from someone who made him nervous to someone who made him nervous for different reasons, and all of this was very inconvenient for Eddie. 

“Trick or Treat,” You’d chirped when he opened the door, and it was at that moment Eddie realized that this night may very well be the death of him.

You wore your favorite baggy sweater over a tight black tank top, which you’d tucked into some high waisted acid washed jeans. Unsurprisingly, the chucks on which he’d scribbled his claim were fastened securely on your feet. In your hands was a variety pack of halloween candies and a shopping bag from the local drugstore. Everything about you radiated warmth, and Eddie had to fight the urge to change tonight’s itinerary to movies and a blanket fort and spend the whole evening on the couch with you, surrounded by candy wrappers and the light of his television set. 

“I brought antibacterial soap,” you said, bringing Eddie back to reality. You rifled through your shopping bag to show him your spoils as you stepped through the threshold and into his trailer. “-large bandages, and a little travel first aid kit just in case. Oh, and I did a little bit of reading at the library and I couldn’t find much on tattoos, but the one commonality between every book and article I could find said to make sure you wash the wound often and disinfect everything-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, taking the bag from you and closing the front door. The corner of his mouth quirked up, keeping an amused chuckle at bay. “You went to the library to read about how to safely care for an illegal tattoo?” Your expression soured, shifting to a half-scowl, half-pout. 

“Well one of us has got to do it,” you huffed, grabbing the bag and marching towards Eddie’s room. “And I know you wouldn’t set foot in the library unless you were forced.” You continued to yell at him from his room, “You’ll thank me when your kitchen-scratched tattoo doesn’t get infected, and you get to grow old with all of your limbs intact!”

Eddie stayed glued to his spot as his smirk grew into a goofy grin. You were fucking adorable. 

You hadn’t argued when Eddie insisted that he start with his own tattoo- before he got started on permanently marking your skin, he wanted to be sure that he at least had gotten the hang of it first. He immediately started getting to work with his trusty fine-tipped Sharpie, sketching out a scattering of bats on his forearm and glancing every once in a while at his notebook for reference. You’d flipped through that notebook on several occasions when the two of you had sat idle during classes or study sessions. The drawings were always sprawling, sharp and gruesome in a way that wasn’t so much scary as it was fascinating to you. 

You laid stomach-down on his mattress, positioned behind where he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the bed frame and close enough that you could probably reach down and play with his hair if you were bold enough. You didn’t- no matter how tempting it was, you didn’t want to risk anything that might mess up his focus. You settled for watching Eddie’s reflection in the mirror that sat leaned up against the wall in front of him. 

When the Sharpie stencil had dried and Eddie picked up the tattoo machine, you couldn’t deny the nervous uptake in your heart rate. You watched him gingerly begin the process of permanently inking his drawing into his skin, and before the needle touched skin, Eddie looked over his shoulder at you and winked, whispering a surprisingly shaky “Point of no return.” Before you could ask if he was having second thoughts, he was already outlining the first bat, his socked foot pressing decisively on the pedal that whirred his machine to life. 

Minutes ticked by before you uttered a soft “Does it hurt?” to break the awkward silence. Normally, Eddie had some sort of music playing, Metallica or WASP or something along those lines spinning on his cheap old turntable- but tonight there was nothing but the electric buzz that filled the small bedroom, and it was starting to make you antsy. 

Eddie huffed, and it was as much of a laugh as he could afford while holding still. “Well, Ace, it’s a needle sticking in and out of my arm repeatedly, so if I’m being honest it ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” You watched him wince as he moved on from outlining the first bat and started on the second. 

“Does it at least make you feel a little badass?” You watched his reflection in the mirror glance up through the curtain of his hair and raise an eyebrow at you. 

“That depends,” He said, “do I look badass?” 

“A little.” You teased. “You’ll look more badass when the tattoo is finished.” 

That earned you a snort from him. “What, fifty percent of a tattoo doesn’t cut it?” His reflection flashed you a genuine smile, that lopsided grin affecting you the way it always does, spiking your body temp and rushing the thump of your heart. 

“Nope. Though, if your intention is to tell the world that you have commitment issues-”

“I do not have commitment issues-”

“Then what kind of issues do you have?” 

Eddie parted the needle from his skin, taking a moment to glance wryly over his shoulder in your direction. 

“You.” It was punctuated by a tongue that peeked out from between his lips. You followed suit, shoulders shaking as you chuckled.

Silence threatened to fall for a moment then, but Eddie put a stop to that. “Keep talking.”

“Huh?”

His voice was quiet, muttered like he was biting the inside of his cheek as he spoke. “Hurts less when we’re talking.”

You smiled, watching as he avoided your eye contact in the mirror, focusing on his arm as a subtle blush began to creep onto his cheeks. Tempting as it was to tease, you opted for a more neutral topic.

“Which is better, sour candy or chocolate?”

You could barely see his eyebrows furrow behind his curtain of curls as he considered your question. “Chocolate.”

“You’re crazy.”

He barked out a laugh. “After all the ridiculous shit I’ve said, that’s what crosses the line for you?”

You shook your head, amping up your reaction for his benefit; he was laughing, and it was music to your ears. You were greedy for more of it. 

“Sour candy is a whole experience, chocolate is just sweet! That’s all it has going for it!”

Eddie gawked but kept his eyes trained on his skin. “What do you have against sweets?”

You rolled your eyes, flopping from your stomach to your back and staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. “I haven’t got anything against sweets… I just like a little tart to go with it. Oh hang on, that reminds me-”

You stuck your hand into the plastic bag you’d brought with you, producing a variety pack of cheap Halloween candies. “Do you normally get trick-or-treaters? I thought we could pour these into a bowl and set it out on the porch- you know, so we don’t have to keep answering the door.”

Eddie Shook his head. “Nah, not a lot of kids who live here. Those who do always high-tail it to the neighborhoods where the good shit is, like-”

“Loch Nora?” you finished, smirking. 

Nodding his approval, Eddie echoed, “Loch Nora.”

“Well in that case,” you yanked open the bag of candy so hard that a few individually wrapped pieces were flung onto the bedspread as well as the floor below. “I guess we’ll have to eat all of this ourselves.”

Eddie paused his tattooing to glance at a fun-sized packet of sour gummy worms that had landed on the carpet beside him. “Gummy worms?” he asked.

You flicked the back of his head while the needle was off his skin. “Uh, yeah, they’re delicious.”

“Did you at least get candy corn?”

You gagged. “Candy corn?!”

The two of you passed the next hour like that, debating about various arbitrary topics and inevitably disagreeing on almost all of them. There were only three things that you both agreed on without any debate whatsoever: Santa Claus was the superior holiday mascot, Joan Jett could easily beat Cyndi Lauper in a fight, and The Empire Strikes Back was way better than A New Hope.

When Eddie was finally finished with his tattoo, you were off the bed in an instant and already reaching for the antibacterial soap. 

“You should wash it under some warm water first before anything gross has a chance to get in there-”

“Hey hey hey, whoa hold on!” Eddie was laughing, eyes wide as he smiled at you. Your hand was already encircled around his wrist, tugging his arm (and the person attached to it) toward the bathroom. “Ace, you haven’t even looked at it yet, c’mon you’re bruising the artist’s ego here.” 

You sighed but couldn’t hide the rueful grin that danced on your pursed lips. Softening your vice like grip on his wrist, you shifted your hands to cradle his forearm and survey the last hour’s work.

“It looks good, Eddie… really good, actually.” You absently swiped a thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. “If you’d told me it was professionally done, I’d totally believe you.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from where your thumb stroked the base of his forearm, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” you smirked. “Of course, I’d tell you to try and get your money back, but-”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Sweet Tart.” The playful shoulder-check had you letting go of his arm, but both of your faces were painted with ear-to-ear smiles. 

Eddie washed his new tattoo in the bathroom sink, admiring the way the bats stretched and shifted with every flex of his forearm. Your mouth hurt, as did the muscles in your cheeks; you couldn’t stop smiling. He was so happy with his work, and you had to admit that he had actually done a really good job with that tattoo machine. 

“We’ve got to get you out of Indiana, Munson,” you murmured to the mirror where he continued to scrutinize his work from every angle. “I think you may have just found your calling.” 

His eyes were wide and shining with pride as they glanced your way. “You think?” 

You nodded, that saccharine smile stubbornly staying put on your lips. To be fair, you didn’t fight it.

“You’re coming with me, then.” Eddie replied, his own smile glowing in the dying light above the bathroom mirror.

There it was- that familiar fire beneath the skin of your cheeks.

“Oh I am, huh?” 

“Hell yeah.” Eddie braced his arm on the doorway, leaning over you until your faces were mere inches apart. “We’re stronger together, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe… Why can’t you breathe?

You’d barely managed a nod before Eddie was ducking around you through the doorway, grabbing your hand, and leading you back to his room. 

“Your turn, Ace.”

Oh yeah, you were also getting a tattoo today. You’d almost forgotten. Were you nervous? You weren’t sure. Actually, yes, you were very nervous- not so much about the tattoo as you were for where the tattoo would be. 

In minutes, you were both sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor- Eddie readying everything he needed for your new ink, and you sitting eerily still as your soul started to feel like it might leave your body.

“Ace,”

Eyes refocusing, you blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s expression was calm, sympathetic to the inward freak-out he had a feeling you were on the verge of. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little more strained than you had intended. “Hah…you saying I have commitment issues?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Eddie’s eyebrows stayed knitted together above his big brown eyes. “No,” he murmured. His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a stray animal and trying not to spook it. “I guess I’m just… trying to give you an out, so you don’t feel pressured or anything.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want an out.”

Eddie blinked, “No?”

“No.”

There was a second of silence between the two of you before you both took in a collective breath, exhaling simultaneously and giggling when you both realized that you were breathing in sync. Perfect harmony; sour and sweet, nervous but willing. 

“You, uh…” Eddie stammered, his eyes flicking down to your lap and back up to your face. “...you still want it on your hip?”

Your heart rate doubled. 

“Um, yeah.” you awkwardly shifted your weight onto your knees, grabbing hold of your waistband and unbuttoning your shorts. You shimmied them over your hips, revealing the rest of your leotard- leotard, Eddie realized. Not a tank top. You were wearing a black leotard. It was almost like the kind that he’d seen ballerinas wear, except it cut so high on your hips that he was sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any of the dance studios he could think of, and….yep. YEP, it was practically a thong. Your ass was out. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom with your ass out. 

Chill out, Munson! He screamed inwardly at himself, Chill the fuck out!

Of course, you couldn’t tell that there was a war going on between Eddie’s ability to function and the short-circuiting that threatened to render him unable to do anything but stare at you. All you could see was the way his jaw had gone slack and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

You smiled shyly, a twinge of something between satisfaction and guilt nudging at your heartstrings. “I figured this thing would be less awkward than if I was sitting here in my underwear,” you laughed nervously as you gestured to your leotard.

Eddie gulped. He couldn’t see much of a difference. “Yeah, totally.” 

A beat passed. You grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the floor, tearing it open with a crinkle of the plastic that would not have been so loud if the two of you weren’t dead silent. You bit into the candy where the color changed from pink to blue, then finally muttered through your chewing, “Ready when you are.” 

Eddie blinked rapidly, taking his Sharpie in his hands. “Uh, yeah… yeah, okay.” 

With your free hand, you pointed to the part of your hip where your flesh naturally creased as your thigh met your pelvis. 

“Is here good?”

Eddie gulped. 

“Yeah, that’s good.” But Eddie was very much not good. He was the opposite of good, he felt like he was malfunctioning. When he placed his free hand on your upper thigh, he almost apologized. Why the hell did he feel like he had to apologize? He had no clue. His palms were sweating- did you feel how sweaty his palms were? Oh god. He forgot what a bat looked like- you were trusting his artistic skills enough for him to permanently ink his drawing into your skin and he couldn’t even remember what a goddamn bat looked li- oh, wait, he had them on his own forearm now. Eddie glanced at his arm, reminding himself what a goddamn bat looked like. 

He’s never felt like more of a nervous idiot than right now. 

Meanwhile, you felt like you were about to explode.

His hand was warm. So warm as he grasped your thigh. Whenever he’d touched you before, there was always a barrier, some form of separation between his skin and yours- jeans, a sweater, a flannel. 

A leather jacket.

That’s right- he had taken his jacket back. Maybe you were reading too deep into things, but you had this unshakable feeling that taking back that jacket had been a message. 

We’re just friends. Nothing more.

But if that was true, then why was he looking at your thighs the way he was? Why had he looked at you the way he did when he said you should go with him when he leaves Hawkins? 

He wasn’t your boyfriend… you knew that.

So why couldn’t you shake this undeniably girlfriendish ache in your chest?

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice jolted you out of your downward spiral into your very inconvenient feelings. “Check that out in the mirror, make sure you like it.”

You straightened up, walking on your knees until you faced the mirror leaning against the wall and inspected the tiny, perfect little bat that he’d drawn on the fullest part of your hip.

It matched the bats that now decorated his arm, now surrounded by an angry red halo that bloomed across his skin. Once that bat was inked, it would be something connecting you and Eddie forever- a shared experience, a secret that the two of you would always be in on. 

Suddenly, you realized that in this moment there wasn’t a single thing you wanted more than a matching tattoo with Eddie Munson.

Well, there was one thing. But you had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight. The tattoo, however…

“I love it.” You looked over your shoulder at Eddie, but his eyes were a little too busy staring at your practically naked behind to meet your gaze. 

“Ahem.”

Breaking free of his trance, Eddie shook his head a tad, which drew a small chuckle from your smirking lips. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too, albeit more shyly than you.

“Distracted?” You teased, unable to hold back your glee at this kind of attention- any kind of attention- from Eddie. 

He sighed, blinking rapidly while he finally met your eyes. There was something new in the way he was looking at you- if you didn’t know better you might call it frustration, but it was an amused sort of frustration. Almost like his eyes were saying “what am I going to do with you?” but through sunglasses tinted with desire. 

You wanted to bottle that, stow it away for emergencies. Wanted to preserve the way that gaze made you feel so that you could experience it over and over again. 

“No.” Eddie murmured through a rueful grin. “Lie down, it’ll be easier to ink the skin while it’s flat.” You did as he instructed, feeling the crinkle of newspaper underneath the skin of your rear. Once again, you found yourself staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling until his face came into view, looking down at you as he readied the tattoo machine. 

“Are you?” You heard him ask. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers poked and prodded at the skin around where your tattoo would soon have an indefinite spot on your hip, and you wondered if he could tell that your temperature shot up ten degrees each time you felt his hands on you.

“Are you distracted?” he clarified. “Because it hurts less when you’ve got something else to focus on.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly, your mind went blank. Of course, the moment you wanted something to distract you, all ideas turned tail and ran. “Um…”

Snap!

Your jaw dropped as the elastic of your leotard snapped back to your skin from where Eddie had pulled it away with his pointer finger. “Where’d you even get this thing?” 

Now it was your turn to short-circuit.

“Uh-” You stammered, interrupted by the machine beginning to buzz. 

Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish your thought before reminding you what he’d asked. “C’mon, Sweet Tart, where’d you get the leotard?”

You knew he was trying to distract you so you didn’t feel the pain, but you couldn’t help the tensing of your muscles as the needle pierced your skin. You winced, staring at the water stain with a newfound intensity. “Dance store.” you gritted through lips that formed a tight line. 

“Dance store, huh?” You could hear the smile through Eddie’s words. “And why were you in a dance store?”

You huffed out a short, breathy laugh, careful to keep your hip still as Eddie’s needle continued to do its work. “I was making a Flashdance costume. Heard about this Halloween party a few weeks ago, but then we made the tattoo plans… and I had already bought the leotard, so…”

It was disconcerting to speak with Eddie without looking at him; he was a very expressive person, always talking with his hands, always making sure that he looked you in the eyes when you spoke to him. But now he was focused on his work on your hip, leaving your eyes to shift between staring at his ceiling and fluttering closed.

“You were going to wear this thing to a party?” he asked, incredulous. 

Your eyebrows wrinkled over your closed eyes. “I would’ve worn tights under it…” 

He snorted. “That wouldn’t have made a difference.”

You winced, groaning as the needle hit a nerve that particularly stung. “What- ah, shit- what are you trying to say?” 

The buzzing stopped for a moment. “Fuck, you okay?” Eddie’s face leaned into your field of vision, his frizzy brown hair backlit into a halo by the light from the lamp behind him. “You want to take a break?”

You shook your head, taking a mental snapshot of how ethereal he looked like this. “No, you can keep going, I’m fine.” 

Cautiously, Eddie got back to work. A few wordless seconds ticked by before you spoke. 

“What did you mean, ‘that wouldn’t have made a difference’?”

Eddie’s reply was matter-of-fact, but you could have sworn that you heard a hint of protectiveness in his voice when he said, “Tights or no tights, the whole party would have been staring at your ass, Sweet Tart.”

The “T” sound in “Tart” was soft this time. So soft, it was barely there at all, and it almost sounded like he’d just called you sweetheart. If only. You’d give anything to be Eddie’s sweetheart.

Whether he’d meant to blend that consonant or not, it made you brave. “Is that a bad thing?”

A pause. Then, “Is this a trap?”

“Answer the question, would a bunch of people staring at my ass be a bad thing?”

Eddie sighed. “This is definitely a trap,” he muttered, before replying “No, Ace, objectively it would not be a bad thing. But sometimes people view girls differently when they walk around with their asses out.”

“Do you look at me differently when my ass is out?” You were being cheeky, you knew it. 

“No, I don’t look at you differently.” came his instant response, muttered through nearly-closed lips. “I just look at you.”

Nothing could stand against your smile, not even you. “Yeah, that much I could see in the mirror.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that.”

This was different from the flirting you were used to with Eddie. Your regular flavor of flirtation had always been surface-level banter; nothing past a jab here and there, a joke at his expense or a nickname thrown your way. 

Now? You were talking about the way he looked at your body, and the fact that he could tell that you liked when he looked. The two of you were in uncharted territory, and you buzzed under his touch in time with the inky needle at the beautiful unknown of it all. 

“Okay, the outline is done but I’m about to start filling it in.” Eddie warned. “This part hurts a little more. You wanna take a break?”

You nodded. While Eddie jumped up to get you both a glass of water, you sat up on your elbows and peered over at your hip to get a look at your new ink. When you saw it, you gasped so fervently that you startled yourself.

It was perfect. The perfect little bat. 

It wasn’t completely symmetrical. The outline was a tad thicker in certain places than others. But those imperfections made it his. And the fact that it was on your skin made it yours. 

You couldn’t wait to wake up and stare at it like this every single day. 

Eddie returned a moment later with two mismatched cups of tap water. Once you’d both rehydrated, he got to work replacing the needle at the end of the machine with a new one, as well as changing out various attachments and fiddling with a knobby-looking piece until he seemed satisfied with what he’d changed.

 You were impressed with how intensely focused Eddie was on this sort of work; it didn’t seem to be taking him long to get the hang of this. It also didn’t take him long to come up with another topic of conversation that teetered on the line between friendly and flirty.

“Ever played Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

You had not, but the title of the game brought an unexpected chuckle out of you. “Edward Munson, I am a lady! At least take me out to dinner first-”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Eddie chuckled, and you could hear his deadpan in the tone of his voice. “I say three people’s names and you have to tell me which you’d fuck, which you’d marry, and which you’d kill. Comprende?”

“Uhh-” whatever you’d been about to say was cut short by a harsher buzz than before, accompanied by the aggressive sting of needles on your skin. “Mmh, shit, okay yeah sure let’s play.”

Eddie smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he loved the little noises and whispered curses that spilled from your mouth while he tattooed you, but he honestly thought they might be the cutest sounds he’d ever heard. You were taking the pain like a champ- he was actually pretty proud of you in this moment as you remained still through the sting.

“Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett”

You rolled your eyes. Eddie had ensured over your many rides in his van this summer that every Metallica song he’d played had been an educational experience. Eddie had picked up a cassette of their debut album in July, and ever since he’d become obsessed. Already, he was trying to persuade the other members of his band to figure out how to play The Four Horsemen by ear. 

Needless to say, you knew enough about the band to at least answer the question. 

“Well I’m killing Lars for sure.”

“Poor Lars never stood a chance.”

You grinned, willing the distraction into something great enough to numb the pain. “And I think I’m gonna have to fuck Hetfield.”

“‘Have to fuck Hetfield,’ such a sacrifice.” 

You carefully stretched your arms up to rest above your shoulders, cradling your head on your hands like a pillow. “Hey, if someone’s got to do it, I’ll take one for the team.”

You heard him snort, then after a moment’s quiet he added, “So you’re marrying Kirk Hammett, then?”

“I guess so.”

“What makes Kirk marriage material? Over the other two, I mean.”

You thought about Kirk Hammett’s wild, dark curls. His build. His brown button eyes. The way he looked holding a guitar.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”

Eddie thought about the way he’d been trying to make himself look more like a rockstar ever since he’d first seen the tiny, grainy picture of the Metallica members in the corner of a page of Rolling Stone; he’d been bumming copies off Jeff’s subscription since the seventh grade. How he’d started growing out his hair after seeing Kirk’s long, black mane. He smiled. 

He must be doing something right.

“Alright, Mrs. Hammett,” He quipped, “My turn, hit me with bachelorettes one through three, please.”

You thought over your options, trying to think of women you’d heard him mention before. Wondering if he thought any of them had something in common with you, and praying to God he didn’t kill them.

“Olivia Newton-John,”

Already, Eddie was descending into a fit of giggles. 

“Why are you laughing? She’s pretty!”

Eddie launched into a falsetto rendition of the chorus from Grease’s Hopelessly Devoted to You, and you were instantly fighting the giggles too. 

“Shut up! I’m not done yet. Olivia Newton-John… have you seen Fast Times?”

His response came in a tone of voice that was the vocal equivalent of a side-eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t know if you know who Phoebe Cates is.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighed dreamily, “I know who Phoebe Cates is.” 

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. “Okay then- Olivia Newton-John, Phoebe Cates, and Carrie Fisher.”

Eddie barked out a joyous “Ah!” before answering, “Well this is easy, Ace, say goodbye to Newton-John!”

You mock-gasped. “You’re killing Sandy?”

“I’m killing Sandy.”

“That is brutal. She was so innocent, too.”

Eddie squinted at the half-filled tattoo, smirking into his explanation. “Okay, I see the appeal, Ace, I truly do. That outfit at the end is killer.” He paused. Should he say it? Would he be too obvious if he did? 

Ah, fuck it. 

“I’m a sucker for a woman in red shoes, let me tell ya. However-” Eddie quickly glazed over that last sentence, as well as any opening you might have gotten to think about how that might relate to you. “-I’ve gotta fuck Phoebe Cates. Because… y’know-”

“Boobies?” you beat him to the punch.

Eddie confirmed with a matter-of-fact “Boobies.” He glanced up at your face for a moment, curious to see if he could read what you thought of his answers, but you were staring pensively at his ceiling, expression unreadable. “And you have to have known I was marrying Leia the moment she was an option.” 

“You have a thing for Princess Leia?”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asked, incredulously. “How could I not? The woman’s the definition of a spitfire, she kicks ass and takes names. Not to mention, she’s got a thing for scoundrels.” 

You hummed. “Do you think you’re a scoundrel, Eddie?” 

“Well I’m certainly not a scruffy-looking nerf herder, I’ll tell you that much.”

You winced playfully, “A nerf herder you are not… but you are a bit scruffy.”

“You’ve got me there, princess.”

Eddie went silent. The nickname had just slipped out- all this talk of scoundrels and princesses and strong women who weren’t afraid of a fight and before he knew it, he was seeing more similarities between you and Leia than he’d realized were there before. 

Princess had just seemed right. It just slipped out. 

The line between friendship and dangerous territory had been so clearly drawn in Eddie’s mind before tonight. Where had he gone wrong? That once clear line was getting blurry.

Eddie was absolutely convinced that he would probably find a way to single handedly ruin your friendship before he was finished filling in your tattoo- which you would inevitably hate, because it would remind you of the asshole who you used to be friends with before he made things weird between you.

“My turn,” your voice cut through Eddie’s downward spiral, drawing a relieved sigh from him that tickled the skin of your thigh. “Let’s make this round more interesting. Only names of people from Hawkins.”

“Hm, that is interesting.” he mused, the needle inching its way toward the last remaining centimeter of bare skin left within the outline. “Let me think… Chief Hopper-”

You barked out a laugh, “Oh great start, Eds.”

“Chief’s a good looking guy! I don’t know why you’re laughing!” but Eddie was smiling ear to ear, delighted that his awkward apprehension had already begun to dissipate. “Principal Higgins-”

“Are you only going to give me old men as options?”

Eddie was going to do exactly that, because he didn’t want to picture you marrying or- God forbid- fucking any men in Hawkins that you might actually enjoy doing either of those things with. He wasn’t jealous, per se… but none of the shitheads in Hawkins were good enough for you. Eddie wasn’t even good enough for you; not yet, at least. He could picture a future version of himself one day taking his chances with you, once you’d both skipped town and found your way in some thriving city somewhere. 

You were both too good for this place- you were the first person to make him think that about himself.

“What was that security guard’s name at the mall? Average joe looking guy? Quentin? Quincey?”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“Knew his name started with a Q.” Eddie softly bit his bottom lip as he finished the last bit of your bat’s wing. “Hopper, Higgins, and Quinn. Those are your options.”

You groaned. “These choices suck, can I just kill them all?”

“I kinda like it when you go all bloodthirsty, Ace.”

You rolled your eyes before letting them flutter closed. “Ugh, well I’m obviously killing Higgins… he’s never been nice to you and all he cares about are school sports. I guess… I mean if I have to, I’ll fuck Hopper.”

Eddie was beside himself with giggles, “I mean, that’s one way to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.” You ignored Eddie’s snickering and continued. “And I don’t think I’d mind being married to Quinn, he always smiles at me and asks how my day was. Plus he’s kind of cute, he’s got nice hair.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see it.”

You laughed, and the jingling tone of your voice suddenly sounded too loud as the buzzing of Eddie’s machine stopped. 

“Alright, Ace,” Eddie announced, leaning back to survey his work. “Check out your new ink.”

You didn’t need to look at it again to know it would be perfect, but you looked anyway. You stood on your sleeping legs and gazed at the little black bat on your hip- it sat beautifully balanced on the skin framed by your high cut leotard, and you knew at once that you’d think of Eddie each time you saw it. This was exactly what you wanted- a daily reminder of exactly how he made you feel, of who he was to you. 

At this moment, it dawned on you exactly what it was that Eddie made you feel. The way you always wanted to be around him, and the way he had become a balloon that inflated your chest every time he made you laugh, and how you knew- just knew- that you’d follow him anywhere if he asked. 

You loved Eddie Munson. You were in love with him. 

And you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot at that little asymmetrical bat.

Taglist: @emma77645 , @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #impossible to hate you #ithy #friends to enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

[nonexistent-introvert]

Hug Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Content: angst, fight, Joel being mean, guilt, heartbreak,

A/N: I really just wanted to write a fic based of the cover of this song done by BTS V and J-hope. I linked the original artist but there is a part where its J hope's rap so it wasn't included in the original song.

Update: I decided to link a SoundCloud link for the cover too!!

Part 2 !!!!

 Unable to win over my heart of sorrow

I endure yet another dark night of sleeplessness

Without a care about my despair

The morning heartlessly wakes me up

 The buzzing of Jackson was replaced with silence at this hour. The sounds of nature replaced the usual city buzz. You hated the silence, the bustle was the only thing that distracted you from your thoughts. While everyone is asleep, you lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Trying your best to push down the lump in your throat and silence the voices in your head. Every time you closed your eyes, the whole scene replays on a loop, reminding you of what had happened. Your heart clenched, constricting on itself. The tear streaks still shine in the moonlight. 

   You don’t think you got a single night of sleep since your fight with Joel. If you were lucky, maybe you would get naps and the times when you had just collapsed because of sheer exhaustion. It was lucky that you always collapsed when you returned home. You didn’t want anyone realising how much despair you were in, you didn’t need the concern. 

   When the voices stopped, a bright light has already shone into your room. The silence was now filled with various greetings and laughs. Many people waking up early for patrol or to provide and contribute their services to Jackson. You stood up, exhaustion weighing your body down. You tried to ignore the reflections of yourself, you doubted you looked well at all. 

  It was heartless, wasn’t it? How time still passed indifferently despite the pain you were in. 

The scars hurt more than I expected

The pain goes deeper than I expected

The countless nights I spend resenting you

Are like hell to me

  You catch passing glances at Joel, he always seemed preoccupied with some kind of work. You tore your eyes away from him anyways while your heart ached longingly for him. His porch was empty at night, he used to strum his guitar there, hoping that the melodies would bring you to him. 

  You rid the thoughts of him, you really should stop thinking about him. Your heart clenched at the thought, as though it protested against you. The logical part of you urges you to just move on with your life, go back to the life before you filled your days with Joel’s company. Then there was your heart which ached constantly for Joel, and yet, it refuses to let go of him. 

  What was wrong with you? It has been almost a month since the both of you fought. Joel looked like he moved on fine so why were you the only one who was suffering? 

   You hated Joel Miller. You hated him for the pain he had put you through. You hated him for how easily he moved on, as though you hadn’t meant a single thing to him. Your logical mind listed every single one of Joel’s faults and flaws. However, your heart simply yearned for Joel, reminding you of the times you spent with him. When he made you the happiest you have ever been. When he gave you that boyish smile, when he laughed at one of your remarks when he teases you with his iconic drawl.

  When he had muttered to you the words he never had the courage to say while you’re awake.

  “You mean so much more to me than you’ll ever know darlin’” 

  The tears flowed again, just like every other night. It was like your own personal torture. 

 Stay by my side, stay with me

Don’t let go of my hand you hold

If you take one step away

I can just take one step closer

  “Joel please!” You begged, holding onto his hand. There was a split moment in time where Joel hesitated and his gaze softened ever so slightly. Joel wrung his hand out from your grip, turning away from you as he ran his hands through his hair. You took a step closer to him, “I’m sorry.” You uttered. “I need some time.” And Joel slammed the door behind him

Thousands of times a day

My thoughts come back to you

All the cruel words you said to me

That icy look, those cold expressions

   You blasted the music that was playing in your ears. Trying to drown out the words that he had said that day. You distracted yourself with the lyrics of the song, hoping that it would stop the scene from replaying in your head. You were never seen without your earphones after that day, because when your mind was allowed to wander, it would wander back to him. The music helps to reduce how vivid the memory was. 

   “There is no ‘us’. There was never an ‘us’ and there will not be.” Joel gritted out. Your fists shook uncontrollably beside you. When you finally found the courage to look up at him, the look in his eyes was unrecognisable. It was a look he gave to enemies, a cold glare void of any warmth, so unlike the looks he always gave you. He was no longer the Joel who called you darling then, he was Joel Miller, the man who murdered the fireflies in cold blood and destroyed any chances of a cure. 

  You shivered at the memory, your breath hastened considerably. 

You were such a pretty person

You were such a pretty person

Please don’t do this to me

You know me well

   In this apocalypse, no one trusted each other. Even in Jackson, trust takes time to build, you had to earn your place here by helping out. Joel Miller was reliable, polite, and reasonable, being Tommy’s brother also helped him easily earn the trust of many. However, you don’t remember the day you decided to trust him with everything you had. Maybe it was the countless times he had saved you from close calls during patrols. 

  It was definitely the times he had spent slowly warming up to you. When he had mentioned to you what Ellie was up to during patrol when he came up to you and asked you all about the lore of Savage Starlight. Those were the times when you slowly gave your heart to him, bit by bit, till it wasn’t yours anymore. 

   His good looks were hardened by the apocalypse, but when he let the traces of a smile show and let out a laugh or wheeze, you knew you fell for him even more. So when he slammed the door on you that day and walked out of your life like he never meant anything, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. 

  The glimpse of a pained look on his face showed that he knew that your heart shattered at his words. Knew that his actions were enough to leave a bleeding heart behind. Joel Miller knew you too well. 

  And that was why, it had hurt so much. 

Those words you said lightly at the time

Made light our relationship in the end

I didn’t know familiarity was the scariest thing

I didn’t know your heart, until our end full of regrets

By the day, your empty spot grows bigger

   Perhaps it was your fault that you decided to try to walk on the tightrope that was yours and Joel’s relationship. The both of you tethered on the line of friends, as though the both of you were testing the limits of it. You should have known that when you went beyond the line, you would walk on the tightrope, never sure if Joel would catch you when you did fall from the tightrope. From your situation now, you know that he didn’t catch you, he was never prepared to catch you. 

  The months you had spent with him, the time you had spent laughing and talking to him under the stars, the nights you had spent in his arms. It all felt like a long dream as soon as the weight of his words comprehended in your mind. 

  “There is no ‘us’, there never was and there never will.” 

  “We should have never met.”

   You chuckle sadly at yourself now, you had even once thought of what it will be like being his wife. Just like how Maria is Tommy’s wife. It seemed like a childish dream now. The scariest part of it all was how you thought you knew him like the palm of your hand, you trusted him enough to not hurt you and walk out so heartlessly, that he would at least have had the decency to let you down slowly. It took everything falling apart, it took regrets pilling on one another to know Joel Miller truly.   No matter what, the place Joel had left vacant in your heart only seems to grow bigger by the day.

 Even if we water our flower bed that was once beautiful

Only our memories remain in full bloom

Only the scent of longing wafts out

   Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it simply numbs the pain that comes from the wounds. When you stare at Joel as he passes you, you couldn’t help the sad smile that forms on your lips. Mourning for the one who got away, what could have been a fairytale. As you watched him lift a bunch of fresh supplies for Jackson, your heart ached numbly in your heart. Even if you did give him and you a chance again, the fight and the trust that was lost between you in this period of time would forever hinder the relationship. You knew Joel and you would never go back to how you were back then, you were thankful that at least the happiness was contained in happy memories that you could look back on. On those days when you reminisce your memories with him and contemplate fixing things between the both of you, you could only remind yourself of the cold truth. However, you couldn’t stop your heart from yearning for him. 

If I can just see you again

I want to show you my everything

I’ll hug you and hold you tight

So you can read my beating heart

For real, for real

Until this truth rests in your embrace

   Joel sat down in his favourite chair with a grunt. The cold silence that greeted him in his home was not something that he looked forward to. He sighed, listening to one of his records play, letting the music accompany him instead. So he does not feel that alone. 

  “She left today. Not sure what she’s up to but she did make some joke of coming back if she doesn’t die.” Tommy casually told Joel over patrol. Joel’s heart stopped for a moment, asking for more details but it seems like you deliberately didn’t leave much. Joel bit back on his tongue, he had no right asking about you, not when he treated you like that. 

   The guilt haunted him every day since he walked out of your house that day. His pride not letting him go and apologise to you, and because he also thought that you would be better off without him. You deserved better than an old grumpy man like him. 

   But knowing that he couldn’t even see you around town now, unable to know if you are okay killed him internally. Joel could only blame himself for letting you go. Then he slowly got selfish, till the point where if he saw you again, he would plead every day for your forgiveness and hope that you would give him another chance. He will hold you in his arms, letting you hear his heartbeat, how it skips when he’s near you, how it paces when he sees you. His heartbeat will tell you the words he never got to tell you. Until you finally realize how much you mean to him and that he will forever blame himself for letting you go.

  Just hug me, please hug me

Just run to me without a word

 Joel wishes you would run into his arms again like you always did. You would call out his name and run towards him with a big grin. He will extend his arms out and welcome you into his arms. If the both of you were alone, you would even wrap your legs around him. Then he could let his heart skip a few beats at the sound of your giggles before you nuzzle your nose into his neck. Maybe after you came back from the trip you were on, you would run into his arms again, and he will welcome you like nothing has ever changed. 

With a lonely and anxious heart

Like this I wait for you

  For the first time since that day he fought with you, Joel picked up his guitar and sat on his porch again. He strummed melodies that he knew you would hum to, that you would start walking in beat to. Then you’ll dramatically sing out the lyrics when you see him, like you were a Disney princess in a Disney musical. He chuckles at the memory. Joel Miller will wait for you to come back to him. His music expresses his love for you, hoping that one day you’ll notice it. 

He will talk to the moon about how much he loves you and hope that you’ll forgive him. His lonely heart anxiously awaits the day he will receive the message that you were back in Jackson and he had a chance to make things right with you. 

   His foolish and weak heart wishes that the moon would help convey his love and intentions to you. Joel hopes that you were talking to the moon too. After all, the only thing he had in common with you now was the sky above you from wherever you stood now. 

 I love you, I love you

I’ll shout out from this long silence

My foolish and weak heart

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us #tlou #tlou x reader #joel miller x f!reader #Spotify

[papurgaatika]

All The Quiet Nights You Bear

Pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Din Djarin is not warm, he does not drink hot drinks, or sit in steamy baths. But for you, he can try.

Tags: angst, din djarin my sweet boy,, bathing, yes this is just giving Din a bath, fluff, hurt/comfort but I'm hurting all of you and comforting him, mention on Din's mother, angst with a happy ending, tooth-rotting amounts of intimacy, non-sexual nudity, no use of Y/N and no description of reader

word count: 1.8k

A/N: Before I start! This is my first official fic that wasn’t a bullet-pointed list I keep in a locked notes app on my phone so I am begging y’all to please be gentle with me. I want to give a MASSIVE shout-out to @joelsdagger for not letting me off the hook and making sure I stick with this, literally would not have been able to do this without her. So the fic: basically I got in the shower one day and thought about Din just being soft, and thus this was born! Fair warning that I Will by Mitski was in heavy rotation while writing this. I literally love him like a real person and he makes my heart hurt and I want to take care of him, so I got self-indulgent. I also don't really know the star wars universe so this is me making shit up as I go!! Anyway!! Peace and love from me I hope y'all love it as much as I do!!

Din Djarin is cold. He slept under the thin sheet he kept in the bunk of the crest for years, his beskar was always cool to the touch, he took cold showers. The idea of warmth never put him at ease either. It seeps into him, clinging to his body under his armor, reminding him of his blaster right after setting it off. He wants to crawl out of his skin anytime he finds himself on a dry planet, sweltering under its suns. 

Din wasn’t used to just how quiet life ended up being on nevarro. Grogu was in school most days, there was relative peace in the area, yet he still found himself clinging to his old self. Never relaxed, always on edge like he was waiting for a fight to break out. You find yourself watching him more closely, recognizing his routines, wanting to put his mind at ease. But how could you? He still took cold showers, quick and precise about it. Never lingering to enjoy the feel of water on his skin, never stopping to relax.

He thinks that the last time he truly took a hot shower was before he took the creed, when his parents were still alive, when he was only Din Djarin the boy, not a mandalorian. It hurt him to think about it, to picture his mother. Her face had grown fuzzy in his memory after decades without her, but he could feel her. The way her eyes were always soft and warm, her voice like the gentle rain that lulled him to sleep when he was young. He missed her. He missed the way she used to hum while warming the water for his bath, the smile on her lips when he would run up to her. He had tried once, to take a warm shower, to try and remember the oils his mother used to use when he was young. It had ended in him slouched over in the bathroom, the steam almost too much, silent sobs tearing through him. So no, din djarin did not take hot showers. 

But you? You were warm. So warm he felt like he was melting every time he even thought about you. The way you kissed his fingers, the gentleness you have while holding Grogu, the look in your eyes when you lay with him. You were all warm showers. The steam that tumbles after you when you open the door lingers around you like it's trying to surround you, to crowd your senses, to be all over you. Everything that din wants to do to you. He would chase after you throughout the whole galaxy if it meant you would say his name, soft and sweet like he was being saved just by hearing it. 

You were the only warmth that he craved. The only heat he allowed himself to enjoy, to truly want. And so when you call him over to the bathroom, voice soft and gentle, he comes. He will always come to you. You smile when he enters the room and takes in the scene in front of him. The bathtub full of water, steam rising from above it. You, with an expression warm enough to rival the water, eyes locked on his. “Come here,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. He was uncharacteristically slow to move towards you, but you stood there, hand still waiting for his. Your hand took his, your thumb tracing over the side of his fingers so soft he could barely feel it. “Din-” you whisper looking up at him, “let me take care of you, sweet boy” 

That was your boy. The one you were working so hard to melt, to make him soft around the corners. It was rare that he wore the armor anymore, his days usually spent at home with you and Grogu, the need to hide no longer necessary. You bring his knuckles to your lips as a silent promise to be gentle, to not let him break. “Is that okay?” you ask, hand still holding his. 

He nods, not trusting his voice nearly as much as he trusts you, and you smile. God that smile. Din Djarin would live in that smile if he could. The only smile he thinks will be in his mind like his mother’s. You reach for the hem of his shirt, not pulling at it yet, just letting your fingers rest on top of it waiting for any indication that he was okay with it coming off. You hear a small hum leave his throat and you help him take it off. This was a sight you would never tire of seeing. Tan and broad, his tummy soft under your fingers likely because of your cooking, and god was he beautiful. “Always so pretty to look at” Your fingers trail on his chest. You place a kiss over his heart, a gentle reminder that it was yours and that yours was his. 

You watched as he removed the rest of his clothes, admiring the vision that he was. Yours, yours, yours. You nudged him to the bath, waiting for him to get in. He didn't think he could do it. It was hot. It was like the ones his mother gave him. It was not like him. He was not soft or warm, he was cool and hardened from years of fighting. But it was like you. It was for you. And for you, he could do anything. He let out a soft hiss as his feet hit the water, the temperature still taking him by shock slightly.

“It's okay, just relax. I've got you” Your words pulled him from his thoughts, looking over at you with a tilt of his head.

 “You’re not getting in cyar’ika?” he sounds disappointed, almost like he wants to beg you to hold him, but you shake your head at him. 

“This isn’t for me din, just want to help you relax okay?” You move to sit on the stool you put behind the bath, grabbing the basket full of oils and shampoos and letting them fill both of your senses. You use a cup to grab some of the water and pour it over his curls, the strands dampening and sticking to the back of his neck. You take the time to press a soft kiss to his head, nose and lips wet with the water. You pop open the bottle of shampoo you had fought to find. Din rarely spoke of his life before the creed, but you knew enough to set out on a search for it. The aroma of the shampoo grew easier to smell when you poured it into your palm, sandalwood and something almost citrusy being massaged into his hair. Your nails rake over his scalp and press into his forehead where you know he gets headaches. A soft groan leaves his lips, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this alright my moon?” you whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled into the room along the steam of the bath. 

“It’s perfect my sun,” he replies, words uncharacteristically soft for him. A small smile finds its way to your lips as you continue to massage the soap into his hair before rinsing it out, taking care to not get it in his eyes.

 “Scooch up, I'm gonna do your shoulders” You dip your toes into the water, legs resting against his thighs before grabbing the soap and a washcloth. 

“So pretty for me Din,” a kiss on his neck “always so perfect,” another one above his collarbone “don't know what I would do without you.” a third kiss on his shoulder, right above a scar he had gotten over the course of his career. You let the soap run down his back gently, watching the bubbles drip down and hit the water. You rub small circles into his skin with the washcloth, running water over it to rinse off the soap, before moving to his arms. Even before you had seen his arms, you had known that he was strong. Hunting bounties all day, fighting, piloting the crest, had led to his arms and hands being known for violence, for having blood on them. But not to you. To you they were the ones that draped across your body at night, the ones used to hold your son while you were out in the markets, they were warm and strong and perfect. They shielded you and protected you, and while you didn’t think you could do the same for him, you were willing to try. Your fingers trace patterns over the scars and freckles he has, goosebumps forming on his skin.  He is sitting in front of you in the bath, the water so hot at one point, that his skin is a little red. Your hands are in his hair taking time to wash it, to truly wash it. Your nails rake against his scalp as the shampoo lathers, before you rinse it out taking care to not get it in his eyes. You massage the conditioner into the ends of his hair, before leaning down to press kisses onto his shoulder. 

“Thank you for letting me do this for you my moon” you murmur resting your chin on his shoulder. He lets out a soft hum that you can feel as you’re pressed up behind him. “Thank you for doing it, my sun.” you can feel the water growing colder than you would like under the two of you, so you make quick work of rinsing the rest of the conditioner out of his hair, lightly curling a few strands around your finger as you finish. Neither of you wants to make a move to get out, the warmth of each other making the water’s temperature almost obsolete, but a sneeze betrays him getting a giggle from between your lips, and din swears it’s the sweetest sound he will ever hear. He can feel your lips curled into a smile as you let your forehead fall to rest on the back of his shoulder and shake your head. 

“Time to get out I think,” you say, reaching over to grab a towel for yourself before stepping out and pulling it around yourself. Din stands next, taking his towel from your hands and wrapping it around his waist before pulling you into him, a surprised “oof” leaving your mouth as he holds you against his chest. You blink up at him, eyes twinkling at just the sight of him and raise an eyebrow waiting for him to speak. 

“Thank you cyar’ika,” his words tremble slightly as he takes a deep breath “Really, this was amazing.. Thank you.” He presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head before letting one of his hands capture yours, interlocking your fingers together. “Anything for you my love” you whisper back before nodding softly to your shared bedroom “Come now, let’s just rest for the day.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #the mandaloria/reader #star wars fanfiction #the mandolarian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian one shot #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian x y/n #papaya writes <3

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bex would you be down to write a dom ethan and sub reader type dynamic smut? This isn’t a request just wondering if it’s something you’re into 😻

Anon of course this is something I am into. First time writing more dominant Ethan! I hope you like it Anon, I haven't posted a fic in over a fucking month! Everything has been so hetic and nuts, I've been working on this behind the scenes and I am hoping this gets me back into the swing of things! Let's go!

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Now Or Never.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. Ethan Landry X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: DUB CON! Stalking. Creepy And Delusional Behaviour From Ethan. Obsessive Ethan. Man Handling. Degradation. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Raw Sex. Implied Cream Pie. Hold The Moan. Don’t Get Caught. 

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Ethan has never been the kind of guy to really go after what he wants. He is much more passive, go with the flow, he doesn’t want to upset the apple cart nor ruin the image that people have of him. He knows it isn’t the best practice, he wants to get out of that, he wants to start doing things for him, maybe he should have made the call to start standing up for himself before agreeing to help his family avenge his brothers' death via a complex murder plot. However, Ethan was committed now, and he wasn’t going to back out, more importantly he saw no way how to, and so he stays. 

Assuming an identity in a new place and pretending to be someone he isn’t to infiltrate a group of people, pretend to be their friend just to be close enough to kill them was stressful. It felt like it was consuming his whole life, losing who he actually was in some regard, he needed a distraction, something to help give him purpose, ease his worries and the harsher edges of it all, or he’d go nuts. 

You were his outlet. 

Stalking just went along with what he did in service of the grand plan, you were not part of it, not involved, but you caught his eye in one of his classes. The first time, he was just going the same direction as you, he swears to God, he wasn’t being a creep, at first. That did not last long. He started to watch you, learn your schedule, get into your routine, and whenever he wasn’t having to continue his charade he was consumed getting lost in you. 

He knows where you live, he knows your class times, the coffee shop you frequent, your order at said shop, he knows what soap you use, the part-time job you hold and that one of your biggest pet peeves is when the tag in an item of clothing itches against your skin. 

He’s been watching you for an amount of time that he is sure if you knew would make you very fucking uncomfortable. You seemingly hadn’t caught on to what he was up to, which was good, it meant he could keep it up without worry, watching you living your life while you were totally oblivious. To be fair, how observant you are or are not, is not what he liked best about you, honestly what he liked is that you were the opposite to him in a lot of ways. No real responsibilities other than the ones you wanted to have, just living the way you want to, he felt some modicum of jealousy over that, he imagines what life could be like if he could get out of his current situation and have a more normal existence with you, it’s a good escape, but it’s just that, a fantasy, an unattainable one. 

It is getting harder and harder to ignore the situation he is stuck in, the same way it is becoming impossible to ignore the clawing feeling of dread in his chest. He wanted to stop feeling so helpless, wanted a sense of control, to feel like he was living for himself, even in a tiny sense. 

Time is running out, and he needs to correct this, or he might fuck up everything without some serious stress relief. 

Ethan learned about the Halloween party you were going to attend, and he thought maybe that would be good, to go and cut loose a little while near you. That plan changed, morphed, got away from him once he was actually there and near you in the costume you chose. 

He tried to keep distance, to just watch but between observing you having fun, the mounting pressure and the frankly bordering on painful erection in his jeans that would not stop throbbing finally a piece inside of him broke.

You had to know what you did to him. You had to know the effect you had on him, it was like you were aware you were being watched, doing this on purpose, it’s maddening. He could crush the red solo cup in his hand as he observes you dance with a friend, the way your hand rests on his arm, your head tips forward to press against his shoulder as you laugh, the sway of your hips, it should be him, why not him? He stews in his thoughts and the anger, the unfairness and the budding arousal threatening to boil over inside himself. 

He’d brought his Ghostface costume along, had it in his bag for something he needed to do later, it was like he acted on autopilot. He sneaks off, he got into the costume, and then he waits for the right moment. 

You are on your way to the bathroom, but not the main one people use, no these were your friends, and you knew about the lesser used one, he knew about it because of course, creep that Ethan was, he followed you there. When you are close enough he strikes, his hand over your mouth, his other arm loops around your middle, and he drags you the rest of the way to the bathroom. The door is already ajar, it’s no trouble to get you inside, a backwards swing of his foot to the wood makes the door close. The light is dim, there is a nightlight plugged into the wall outlet near the counter top by the mirror, so someone stumbling from the basement guest bedroom can find their way to the bathroom he assumes. 

You are struggling against him, squirming, muffled sounds trying to get out from behind his hand, but he is struck by just this. He is touching you for the first time, holding you, he draws you closer, makes it so you are flush against him. He’s thought about this countless times, you are warm and softer than anticipated, he can fucking smell you and it is intoxicating. He is so caught up in this, taking in every detail and small movement, he presses his hips forward, grinds himself on you through the layers of jeans and black fabric as he smells your hair and then what you do next? Ethan never would have thought in a million years you’d respond like this, by your eyes closing and you grinding back, pressing your ass closer to him with a sound behind his hand that might sound like a moan if he let you express it fully. 

You aren’t fighting him, not any longer, no you are rocking with him, trying to stimulate yourself in any way possible against him-

Oh.

You are better than he thought, he knew you were a slut, he’d seen you in your place, knew your porn search history and the collection of toys you owned, but to be down to fuck a masked stranger you hadn’t exchanged a single word with? You were a world-class whore, he was going to take advantage of this opportunity to the fullest. 

He knows he doesn’t need to hold you so closely, his arm releases your mid-section, his hand slides down your body and between your legs and up the short skirt of the costume you wore, fingers press to your underwear. You are already wet enough he can feel it through the thin material and his gloves. Your hips buck, wanting to get closer, feel more of him, it feeds his ego and emboldens him, you want him, and he isn’t going to deny you. 

He gets his glove off, he needs to feel you, skin on skin. His hand slides into your panties, his fingers dip as low as they can and feel the source of your extreme wetness, he presses, tease the hole carefully before his digits slide up through your folds, and he knows he finds what he needs when you gasp, head thrown back against his shoulder. 

His hand works, fingers circle over your clit, and you inhale sharply through your nose, brows furrow, and he watches you in the mirror. The way the pleasure plays out on your face as he teases you, he enjoys how your body responds, the small tremors of your limbs, the twisting and squirming of your form, the way your clit throbs under his touch as he presses harder. 

He needs to feel you inside. Fingers move, you whine, he dives inside, and he curls them, it causes the biggest reaction out of you yet. Your body pitching forward, hands on the counter and your walls clenching around his fingers. You are so soaked, soft, hot and so thoroughly alive. He can barely move them inside of you, but he does, he slips them in and out, presses to that same spot that got such a big reaction out of you, and he moans quietly, he swears he can feel you getting wetter. 

In and out, flex and push, you writhe, and he wants to hear you, he pulls his hand away, but before he does, he has one finger over your lips, that classic symbol of “shhh” and you nod, eyes half lidded and lust filled. You let out quiet moans, his palm grinds against your clit as his fingers fuck in and out, he can’t take much more. The simple movement, the motion, how hard he is rocking against your ass, he wants to be buried in you, wants to fuck you. 

So he does. 

His hand moves, fingers pulled out, and your eyes had slipped closed again, at the loss of him they open, confused and when you see him pulling the robe up you get the hint. You make your own move, shaky hands lift off the counter and your fingers hook under your skirt, you tug down your underwear and you step one foot out, leaving them hooked around your other ankle. He has the robe up and his pants open finally, the relief of pressure on his straining erection has him letting out a small sigh. His hands are on you, he adjusts you, one knee on the counter and pushing you forward, your hands braced on the sink, and you adjust too, your hips tilt and soon with a hand on your back and the other on the base of his cock he is lining up. 

It’s rushed and faster than he wants, but he just wants so much, it’s been so fucking long he can't stop it, can't help himself. He feels you, the heat coming off of you, the wetness on his tip, he lingers for only a moment before his hips move involuntarily, and then he is helpless. The first half inch pops in with no resistance, and you are perfect, you feel incredible it makes him let go of himself, hands lock on your hips, and he pushes further, slides deeper, and he watches you in the mirror. The way your mouth falls open, the exhalation, the way you tense in some regards and relax in others, but mostly he can’t focus on much else other than how your cunt feels around him as he settles in, finally to the base. 

He soaks you in for a second, you are more impatient than he, you whine again, needier than before, and you move first, pull your hips forward before sliding them back, and it makes any semblance of control break. He takes over, the grip on your hips tightens, and he pulls out almost totally before driving back in, you have to bite your lip to hold the moan back enough to not be overheard. The party is on the main floor, you are in the basement, but you are sure that he could make you alert everyone up there. 

This was insanely hot for you, a masked stranger pulling you away and touching you, groping you, fucking you without you seeing his face or uttering a single word? Unbearably hot, his fingers were good, but even two minutes in his dick puts his hands to shame. He is greedy. He touches more, he didn’t touch you enough before, his other glove comes off, and he touches your legs, your thigh, a firm squeeze of your ass, he feels up your sides and your chest. You lean closer into his touch, moving still with him, loving the pace he took as he fucked you, rough and quick, he pulls the top of your costume down, exposes your tits, palms them, and you moan louder than you probably should. 

This is good, but it could be better still, your hand is between your legs, you stroke your clit as he fucks you, the stretch of him is delicious, you find yourself gasping, arching your back a bit more so he hits that spot inside just a bit harder, a touch better. You are so close to the mirror you are in danger of fogging it up, but you want to look at him, you’d been staring at his masked face this whole time, wondering who is under it. 

You move back, press yourself closer to him and away from the mirror, and you get this urge. This urge that you don’t question or think about. Your back is to his chest, he is still preoccupied with fucking you and rolling your nipples between his fingers, perfectly distracted, huffing and letting out small sounds of pleasures, groans, you reach back behind him and the move is fast. You push the hood back, fingers grip, and you pull and twist, the mask comes off. He’s shocked.

He was so consumed with the feeling of getting to have you, with the mounting pleasure, he even had his eyes closed like an idiot, you got the drop on him. He stopped, held deep, and your eyes met in the mirror. 

He’s hot. Hotter than you thought possible, dark sweat soaked curls and hard eyes, pretty pink lips are wet and parted, he’s strong and has had no issue throwing you around and holding you down. The low orange light playing off your body and his face is going to be burned in your mind forever.

You don’t want him to stop, you want to keep going. You maintain eye contact, you move again, pull him out slightly before bucking back, he inhales hard, and you do it again, and again, slip more out and take him harder on every movement, and he comes back to himself. 

You like this, like him, you liked him as a stranger doing this, but you were still into this now made it even better. He takes over again, he fucks you harder while still meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wasn’t going to stop now until you came around him, and he filled you up.

God, he needed this. 

#BHF asks #BHF writing #Ethan Landry x reader #Scream 6 x reader #Ghostface x reader #HEY BITCHES I'M BACKKKKK #ENJOY IT #EAT UP

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

fun fact about this chapter: I had no plans to write this fanfic at all. It wasn't something that I had thought about or nurtured. All I wanted was to write a scene where Azriel baked Elain an ugly birthday cake that collapsed in the middle. That's it. That was the scene that I really needed to get out. Somehow, and I am still unsure how, this whole fic was born kind of around this one simple scene. Well, here it is. The scene that started it all. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter XIII

I’ll Be Your Man

Elain’s birthday was on a cold, blustery day, as it happened to be most years. At least Feyre’s birthday was on the Winter Solstice, so there was something special about the day. The longest night of the year. It was mystical and mysterious. There were Druids and Stonehenge rituals.

Elain’s birthday was uninteresting. No one cared about December 23rd.

No one, not one person, especially when everyone was reeling from Feyre and Rhysand surprise wedding, cared about Elain’s 28th birthday. Piglet might have cared, if he knew about it. But he didn’t, so that left the one and only person who gave a shit–Azriel. 

Azriel was secretive, but adamant. He told her that they would be celebrating and that she was to come to his flat. Finally! Took long enough. He virtually moved in with her, and yet here she was, going to his place for the very first time. She was curious about how and where he lived. Canary Wharf wasn’t a place that she went to frequently–it was beautiful, spotless and soulless. Like the most perfect version of NYC. There were shiny skyscrapers, brilliantly green lawns, vividly blue water, a glittery mall, and none of it was Elain’s cuppa, because while there, you wouldn’t even know you were still in London. But it seemed like the perfect spot for a wealthy bachelor who spent a lot of time on the road and had more money than he had sense.

Elain dressed warmly and without fanfare because Azriel didn’t tell her to bring anything special and besides, she was feeling…out of sorts. She was restless, which was another word for ‘envious’. But she wasn’t envious! Of course not. She wasn’t envious of Feyre, who was MARRIED!!!! To Rhysand. It was something that Elain still couldn’t wrap her mind around. Feyre. Married. After 16 hours of knowing her now husband. Elain wasn’t envious. She wasn’t like Feyre, and she wouldn’t be able to take such a drastic step anyway. Not after 16 hours. Probably not even now. Though, she had to admit, when Azriel dropped to his knee before her, she felt…joy. Terror. But also joy. Mostly disbelief and happiness. But it was just a little game. Nothing more. That’s what people did with her–they played games. 

She put a puffer coat and a bear hat on Piglet and off they went to the Tube station. He didn’t like the cold and attempted to turn back, but she tugged on his lead, making him walk.

“Don’t even start with me today!” she warned and he pouted, but ended up walking.

She was kind of in a bad mood, she supposed.

She was forgettable: the little, pretty, but pointless Elain. Her father rang her, and she received the usual £50. He wished her a happy birthday and told her to ‘make the right decisions’--whatever that meant. Nesta rang as well and informed her that she was going out on a date with Cassian. That was a surprise. Nesta tried to play it off, but Elain could feel that her sister was excited. Nothing from Eris. What a douche. She couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t even text her. They never even broke up officially. For all he knew, she was still his girlfriend. And yet, he didn’t even bother calling her on her birthday. Boorish oaf. Maybe she should just sleep with Azriel? She’s been putting it all off, the whole sexual part of the relationship, because of Eris. Because of her misguided sense of loyalty to him. But after Azriel’s kiss, she wasn’t sure if she could continue denying herself the pleasure that she’s been craving and also withhold affection from Azriel. It wasn’t fair to either of them and especially not because of Eris. 

They got on the train and Piglet sat on Elain’s lap. Some people did a double take, thinking he was an ugly baby, but of course once they realised that he was a dog in a hat, riders started taking photos of him. Sometimes, having a celebrity dog was a pain in the arse. Then some girl told Elain that Piglet was ‘cute in an ugly way’ to which Elain snapped ‘well, I think he is cute in a cute kind of way’. The girl made a face and moved away. Good. 

It took a while to get to Canary Wharf and by the time Elain and Piglet got off the train, it was just them and it was pristine and desolate here. She’d have to find how to get to Azriel’s building, and she wondered if she’d have to get an Uber. She had no idea where the hell she was and it was cold, and she was in a shitty mood. She was 28 years old. It all came down to that. She was 28 and except for her business, she had nothing to show for it. Well, that, and rescuing Piglet. There wasn’t a whole lot else to brag about. A failed engagement and a semi-ex-boyfriend who didn’t bother to wish her a happy birthday and from whom she’s not heard in ages. She was feeling so salty about it, so angry, she was surprising herself. She didn’t think of herself as such a bitter person, but she absolutely resented Eris lately. 

-

She stood on the platform, figuring out where to go, when Piglet began to bark and pulled on the lead hard enough for her to let go. Before she could yell at him, she turned and saw Azriel Night standing by the doors, smiling. He held a huge bouquet–a stunning selection of pale pastel flowers which probably cost 500 quid. 

Elain's birthday bouquet

“There is my beautiful birthday girl!” he greeted her.

And just like that, Elain’s unhappiness dissipated. Because there he was, the one who never abandoned her, the one who caught her every time even when she thought that she was falling, the one who never forgot about her.

“I am going to be like Feyre and say ‘give me hugs!’” Azriel joked, while receiving some serious side eye from Piglet. Chuckling, he added, ‘lil lad, we’ll discuss your hat later. You sure are ready for that snowstorm. But first, let me give my girl hugs!”

It wasn’t a hug that Elain received the moment she stepped into Azriel’s arms. He cupped her jaw in his cold hand and pressed his lips to hers, not allowing her even a moment to reconsider. It was an ‘Azriel kiss’--heavy and dirty, possessive and domineering. He didn’t do anything other than mould her lips with his, and rather gently pry her teeth apart, allowing his tongue full access and swiping in boldly, but as soon as those warm full lips of the slightly cruel mouth enveloped hers, Elain’s legs refused to cooperate. The gorgeous bouquet got half smashed in the crook of her elbow, as she clung to Azriel’s shoulders, holding on to him for support. His arm landed on the small of her back, pressing her tightly to himself, and the other squeezed the back of her neck, while he kissed her hotly, his mouth firm, taking from her, while filling her lungs with his breath. 

She pulled back a bit and moaned, “Az,” but he shook his head stubbornly and reminded her,

“You said I can kiss you any time, anywhere. This is it. I am kissing you when I want to.”

“Okay,” she nodded frantically and he returned to her lips, kissing her with needy urgency, like she was the finest thing he’d ever tasted. 

Piglet meandered in between their legs, bored, and kept giving them judgy looks. But not as judgy as some old woman who walked past them and hissed, “there is a time and a place for these things!”

That pulled Elain back and Azriel glowered at the woman in a manner that had her skittering away in a speedy manner. 

“Let’s go, birthday girl,” Azriel draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. “Let’s go lumberjack pug,” he whistled to Piglet, who trotted happily next to him, eager for less kissing but more adventures.

“So, what are we doing?” Elain asked, as she dared to wrap her arm around his waist. Azriel chuckled and said, “I am not telling you all my secrets, pretty girl. There will be surprises,” he promised.

Elain winced and he laughed at her reaction.

“Have I ever disappointed you?” he inquired.

Elain thought about it. Actually thought about it for a moment, before realising that he never, in fact, disappointed her at all. He was impossible, hair-raising, incorrigible at times–more times than she cared to admit, but he was also never disappointing. He loved Piglet. He was good with her sisters. He was good around the house. He cooked well. He had a hilarious sense of humour. So basically, he was great and she loved him.

“No,” was all she answered. 

Azriel hummed, like he suspected that there was more to her laconic answer than met the eye, but didn’t push. 

They walked through what looked like an office building lobby–this place made no sense to Elain!--and then outside. Azriel pressed a key fob and a Range Rover came to life across the street.

“No Dev?”

“Nah, it’s just you and I today, sweetness,” he promised and for some reason that made Elain blush a bit.

He always managed to make the most innocent comments sound titillating.

“Are you excited to be all mine for the day?” he asked, opening the car door for her. 

“And what are you planning to do to me all day long?” she quipped, while he cupped her bottom in his hands, completely unnecessarily, and helped her up.

“You know, I can do it myself!”

“I am a gentleman after all,” he winked at her. “And it’s your birthday. If you need help with anything, you just let me know! I am excellent at assisting with bathing for example. Dressing, oh, and undressing. Tucking in. Tucking out.”

“Oh lord, this is going to be a long day,” she moaned, while Piglet struggled to get up into the large vehicle, and was getting more and more agitated by the moment. Azriel was laughing softly, watching him struggle.

When Piglet was about to ram the car with his head, like an angry bull, Azriel swiftly grabbed him and said, “Calm down. You think you are one of the Avengers because you go to the park, bark at big dogs and small childs, but you are just Pinky the Pug.”

Elain snickered, but then gasped, when Azriel placed Piglet in the back seat, into a new, lavish doggy car seat. 

“Is that for him?” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. Azriel deposited Piglet into the seat, attached his harness and pushed him closer to the window, so he could look outside.

“Well, it’s not for Cassian,” he shrugged, “so I suppose it’s for him.”

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly embarrassed of the praise and Elain’s excited reaction. 

“You love him,” she murmured.

“Who, Cassian?” he tried to deflect with a joke. “Yeah, he is my brother.”

She didn’t respond but only watched him get into his seat and start the car.

“You are a good man, Azriel Night,” she said quietly, as they pulled into the thin traffic. There were hoards of people going into the mall, and Azriel drove away as quickly as he could.

“Yeah, well…” he shrugged, “only for you, I think.”

“I don’t think so,” she argued absently, looking at the shiny skyscrapers outside. “I think you are very nice. To everyone.”

“Ha! Not true, but I’m enjoying this rosy image of me that you’d painted in your head.”

She looked at him, but didn’t say anything. Because she knew what she knew, and this was a remarkable man and no one was going to change her mind about that. 

Azriel drove away from the river, ably navigating between cars and holiday shoppers, and getting away from the modernity of the towering buildings and into more industrial and residential areas.

“So, what are we doing?” she asked eagerly.

“Not gonna tell you.”

“It’s my birthday! You have to,” Elain complained. “Are we going to go to dinner?”

“No, that’s predictable. And it’s not even noon yet. What dinner?”

“No dinner?”

“No dinner,” he confirmed.

“Am I going to get presents?” 

He bubbled his lips, but then said, “yes. You will get one gift.”

“That’s it?”

“What if it’s a diamond ring?” he mused.

“Eh, it’s not! You aren’t Rhys, who is out of his mind.”

“I am not sure it’s a compliment,” he glared at the road ahead, miffed by her comment. “You make it sound like I don’t have the bollocks to propose to you?”

“Oh I think you have all the bollocks,” she assured him.

“I am wondering if you have the bollocks to say ‘yes’.”

Elain bit her lip and didn’t answer.

But for Azriel, it was answer enough.

He drove in silence–the atmosphere a bit tense between them. Piglet was panting in the back, obviously enjoying himself tremendously in his new seat, feeling like he was part of the gang.

“You can have two gifts,” Azriel suddenly said, interrupting the silence. It was as if he’s been thinking about this second gift for a while.

Elain turned to him, and smiled happily, “yeah?”

He shrugged,

“Yeah, I suppose, since it’s your birthday. You can have two presents.”

“Oh, very generous of you,” she joked and then added,  “I like it here,” her head swivelling this way and that way, as she beheld the older buildings, the rougher, less modernised and glitzy part of the Wharf. Azriel already knew this about her–Elain loved London. Loved it. She knew it extraordinarily well, always peppering their walks with fun facts about various odd buildings. She loved old London especially, and he recalled how on the way to Camden the other night, she kept pointing out things that none of them knew anything about. It fascinated him–how knowledgeable she was, and how much she appreciated and loved this town. For someone who didn’t drive, she sure navigated the place with ease. She also knew all the old timey places to eat, old pubs, pie shops, obscure stores and places where they still required a smoking jacket, and where they made bespoke items. Of course after meeting her father, it wasn’t terribly surprising. The man wore a dinner jacket even if he dined alone. 

They stopped at a red light. 

“Az?” Elain said softly.

He turned to her, “yeah, baby?”

Without warning, Elain reached over the console and cupped his jaw in her hand. She leaned deeper into him and pulled his face close, her chocolate brown eyes skimming over his features with quiet, genuine admiration. And then she pressed those sweet, pillowy lips to his. The honeyed taste of her, with a hint of vanilla hit him hard. Because she kissed him like she couldn’t wait anymore. As if every moment that they’ve been driving, she just waited to kiss him, to taste him, to be as close to him as possible. As if he was a compulsion that she needed to satisfy. Her palm held his face tightly, steadily, the thumb stroking his cheek with possessive gentleness, but also urgency. Azriel fell into the kiss like he was a teen tasting his first woman–wholly and without hesitation, in an uncontrolled, wild way that Elain always made him feel. He didn’t want to sound crazy, but he literally felt their souls click together every time the two of them kissed. They fitted together like a key and a keyhole.

An irritated honking pulled them apart. Azriel was panting a bit, his eyes darker than their normal greenish-hazelnut colour, his gaze unfocused. 

Elain licked her lips, blinking rapidly. She looked like she just woke up.

The light had long turned green.

“I couldn’t wait,” she confessed breathlessly. 

He looked at her, not making any effort to actually start driving.

“I couldn’t wait,” she repeated, while he cupped her face in his big, gnarled hand. Rubbing his thumb over her lips, he murmured, “for what?”

“For us. To kiss you.”

A soft, pleased smirk touched his lips.

“You kissed me at a red light,”

“I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

“Do it again!” he ordered.

Elain laughed. 

“The people behind will beat you up!”

“I don’t care. We have a vicious dog in the back,” he turned around and looked at Piglet, who blinked his big buggy eyes at him.

“Or not,” he concluded and then sped up down the street.

-

In about five minutes Azriel pulled to the curb and parked. Elain looked around, noticing some kind of Christmas market. 

“Are we going to have hot cocoa?” she asked immediately and Azriel smiled at her. She really was a big baby sometimes. 

“We can have hot cocoa,” he nodded, getting the dog from the back seat. Piglet snorted with displeasure, especially when he felt the cool nip of December on him and Azriel told him,

“You can stay here, if you’d like.”

To which Piglet immediately jumped out of the car. The enticing smells of fried foods, and the scent of a whole pork roast didn’t hurt either. 

Azriel pulled his flat cap lower on his forehead, hoping that no one recognised him. Elain threaded her arm through the crook of his elbow and he took Piglet’s lead, and smiled to himself. 

His little family.

He felt proper and genteel with Elain next to him. For someone like him, who wasn’t used to dating proper ladies and usually stuck with football groupies, walking around with Elain–his actual girlfriend–was a bit of a mindfuck. How did he even get Elain? That was still mind boggling to him. Whatever good he’d done in his life, which he felt wasn’t even very much, somehow got him rewarded with Elain. And he wasn’t going to question it or think too hard about his luck.

They queued in line for hot cocoa, which Elain had located incredibly fast and when it was their turn, Azriel ordered her the most elaborate concoction that he could find. 

“Baby, don't fall into a diabetic coma,” he warned, handing her the drink. Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she absolutely disregarded his cautionary reminder. For Piglet, he got a pup cup, because god forbid they’d be enjoying something and their chunky pug was left without a treat. 

“So, why are we here?” Elain asked, though she insisted on stopping at every stall. In less than fifteen minutes, they already had a box of creme brulee doughnuts ‘for breakfast’--Azriel was doubting that the doughnuts would make it to tomorrow’s breakfast, but sure, hope springs eternal and all. They bought seven varieties of cheese–for some mysterious charcuterie board that Elain was planning on making. Azriel suspected that they’d eat the cheese between the two of them, with Piglet’s help, and without any board. She stopped by the oyster shucker and watched him with sadness in her eyes, because raw oysters and hot cocoa with whipped cream and caramel…well, even Elain couldn’t pull that off. 

“Well, if you would stop pausing at every food place, we might actually get to our destination,” Azriel told her, before artfully sidling to her and licking a bit of whipped cream off her lip. 

“Ugh,” was all she managed to huff before Azriel wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. Elain was…effervescent today. Bubbly and happy and full of excitement and Azriel was feeling quite proud of himself. Granted, it didn’t take a lot to get Elain happy and smiling, but she truly came alive when they were together. 

“My sweet girl,” he groaned against her warm, chocolate-scented lips. She was holding onto his neck, her grip tight and secure, because she wasn’t going to let him go. 

“You kiss…” he mused, rubbing his nose against hers.

“What?!” she gasped. “It’s bad? I don’t kiss well?”

“No. You kiss wonderfully. Best kisses,”

“You lie!” she complained, but he shut her up pretty quickly with another kiss. Cradling her head in his palm, he moaned, a quiet and masculine groan escaping his lips as he guided Elain’s mouth with his own. He devoured her as he tended to do, hungry and intimately, knowing that he would probably never get enough of her deliciousness.

“You kiss with a desperation of love,” he told her simply.

Elain looked up at him, her hands wrapped around his neck.

“See, like this,” and he ran his fingers over her upper arm. “It’s genuine. It’s real. You are the most real person I’ve ever met, Elain.”

“I,” she began but he interrupted her.

“You are the only one who’d never needed anything from me, except for me. Don’t want my money. Don’t need my fame. Not even sure if you remember that I am a footballer,” he chuckled at that.

“I remember,” she pushed his shoulder playfully. “But it’s a job. It’s not who you are,”

“And for some unfathomable reason, you like who I am,” he told her.

“Why unfathomable?” she wondered, stroking the back of his neck gently. “Maybe you are just the one for me. My one and only. The one who was made for me, for whatever reason,”

“For whatever reason,” he echoed her, looking down at the lovely face, and then long locks under her knit hat, where fat snowflakes landed and disappeared just as quickly. “And you believe this? That I, a bastard born nobody, was made for you?”

“Is that what worries you?”

He shrugged, and said quietly, “Maybe.”

“You are a made man. That’s what matters to me. You achieved your own success and carved your own path due to your talent and your tenacity. Not inherited money. And believe me, we’ve had some bastards in the family as well,” she winked at him. “Ask me to tell you about my great-great-grandmother Miss Elain Archeron and the Duke of Velaris.”

“Oh yeah, the Banging Granny Elain!” Azriel laughed. “I do want to hear more,”

Elain cocked her brow at him, “Is that what we are calling her?” 

He gave her a peck on the lips and said, “Seems fitting. Come on!” he pulled her alongside him and in the next moment, Elain ended up standing in front of rows of Christmas trees.

“No!” she gasped.

“Yes,” he grinned. “I told you that you will be getting a tree this year. So, let’s go and choose one and then we are going home to decorate.”

-

Piglet felt that dad’s flat was pretty nice. 

Piglet offered his opinions on which tree to get, which were unequivocal, especially because his Elain couldn’t even make a decision! She walked from tree to tree, touched them all, tried to reach the top, and did all kinds of other silly things. If he was going to be honest, Piglet felt that his Elain was spending way too much time next to every tree, and even more time kissing dad. Frankly, now that they started kissing, they just did it too much and wouldn’t stop. It’s like they’d rather kiss than do anything fun, or play with him. Which obviously made little sense, because why would you even need this many kisses and any normal human would rather spend time with him, or any dog, than kissing. Clearly, they also needed help choosing a tree, so Piglet did his due diligence–unlike them–and after an unnecessary long time spent in the cold, they finally packed the tree, wrapped it and then dad and his Elain took the tree back to the car.

Doing the Lord's work. Piglet choosing a Christmas tree.

Piglet had no choice but to walk in front, dodging endless admirers, who wanted to take a photo of him, and lead the way back to the car. This market was nice, he had no complaints, but it was cold and he was ready for some snacks and a snooze. 

Watching the two humans wrangle with the tree once they got to the car made Piglet think that in fact, they weren’t very smart at all. Dad was holding the trunk, hauling it up to the roof, almost succeeding, until the tree slipped from his grasp and almost clunked dad on the head. Then Piglet, being a good boy and sitting quietly and calmly on the cold ground, watched his Elain climb on top of the front of the car, almost falling off, because it was slippery, but then grabbing the top of the tree, while dad picked it from the bottom yet again. Piglet was a two year old dog, and even he knew that his Elain was bound to slip and fall on top of the car’s hood, since she wore booties with heels. You didn’t need to be human or smart, to know that. But these humans weren’t very smart. Humans also didn’t care that the tree branches cut them and slapped them in the face–apparently, they were having so much fun, that his Elain almost fell off the car again, though dad was there to catch her this time. She fell into his arms, laughing uproariously and then there was even more kissing. Dad pressed her into the side of the car and his hands slid under her jacket and he definitely squeezed her titties, while he kissed her, but…she seemed to like it and didn’t protest at all. After what seemed like an eternity of kissing and sucking on each other’s necks (about four minutes), Piglet had no choice but to bark politely, reminding them of his existence. Also, he had balls, and they were about to freeze to the ground, which he wasn’t too excited about. At last, they wrapped the tree with ropes, and Piglet was able to finally, finally get back into the warm and comfortable seat in the car. 

-

“This is impressive,” Elain marvelled, once they stepped into the glitzy lobby of the skyscraper which Azriel called home. There was something to be said about living in a place like this, with all the amenities and a concierge downstairs, who attempted to make a face at Piglet’s presence, but seeing Azriel, thought better of it. 

“Mr. Night, good evening. Pets aren’t allow-,” the man began, but Azriel waved him off and said, “he is her emotional support dog.”

That made Elain sound a bit nuts, like she couldn’t step away from her dog, but if that allowed Piglet to get into the building without much trouble, then so be it.

The two of them were dragging their tree between them, which caused the poor, snooty man to wrinkle his nose at the mess of pine needles that they were leaving behind. 

“Mr. Night, we can have maintenance personnel bring the tree up to your flat,” the concierge offered weakly, watching with alarm how the shiny floor was now stained with their footprints, Piglet’s little paw prints and pine sap and needles. 

“No need,” Azriel told the man, his tone blase. 

“Can you at least take the maintenance lifts?”

Azriel paused and then slowly veered away from the lobby lifts.

At that, Elain dug in her heels and stopped.

“Pardon me,” she asked dryly of the man, “isn’t Mr. Night a resident here?”

“He is, Miss…”

“I am Lady Elain Archeron,” she said imperiously. “And I believe that if Mr. Night is a resident, who owns his flat in the building and probably pays a considerable amount in monthly fees, he shouldn’t be directed to a maintenance lift, as if he were a cleaner or hired help?”

“Miss, I did not,” the man stumbled, but Elain interrupted him, 

“It’s Lady Elain. And I think that you did mean it. You didn’t want to clean up a few pine needles, so you thought that it would be appropriate to direct a resident to some shitty, as Americans call it, elevator!”

Azriel gawked at her and her indignation. Piglet stood there, head raised up, looking pretty proud of his Elain. 

The thing was that no one, except for Cassian, really ever stood up for Azriel. Azriel had been severely abused as a child, the burning of his hands not even the worst–though the most visible–reminder of his awful upbringing. Not until Lord Darling stepped in to adopt his wife’s blood nephews that anyone gave two shits about Azriel.

But his girl–she gave a shit. She cared. Azriel began moving where he was told to go out of habit. He hated that about himself, but it was ingrained in him–to be treated as someone lesser, as someone insignificant and unworthy of respect or attention. But Elain grabbed his hand and pulled him along. 

“Of course, Miss…Lady,” the concierge was flustered. “I apologise. Happy Christmas. I hope not hard feelings,”

“That’s up to Mr. Night,” she cut him off.

Azriel finally took pity on the bloke and said, ‘no hard feelings’.

They dragged the tree to the lift, and Piglet parted ways with the concierge by letting out a loud fart. 

“Wow,” Azriel laughed, shaking his head, once the doors closed, “that was cold, Pink. Real cold.”

Then, he cupped Elain’s face in his hands and asked, “are you my girl?”

Elain gave him a quizzical look and said, “I suppose I am.”

“Because I think that you are. And I think that you are fucking amazing, matchy. Also, when you started dropping ‘I am a Lady’ down there, I got hard.”

“Oh my god. You are a psycho.”

“A hard psycho,” he agreed.

They carried the tree out to the hallway and Azriel stopped by the door and said,

“Well, home sweet home, babygirl.”

He swiped a fob and the door opened for him. Elain almost made a step, but he caught her around the waist and said, “nope!”

Piglet had no such qualms and ran inside the flat, while Azriel lifted Elain in his arms, surprising her and then carrying her over the threshold. She felt like a soft, pale, golden mass in her arms, and her golden-brown hair resembled golden threads against the blackness of his coat. He kissed her gently, before setting her down.

“It’s almost like I am your bride,” she said shyly, holding onto his hand.

“You are my bride. You just don’t know it yet,” he said firmly and kissed her again. 

Piglet was zooming around the massive open space that was the penthouse. Because that’s where they’d arrived, into a dimly, but artfully lit penthouse on the 37th floor. There was almost a 365 degree view and floor to ceiling windows. Elain let go of his hand, mesmerised by the stunning views of London outside. She dropped her bouquet on the chair and rushed to the windows. It wasn’t a beautiful day–the skies were the colour of wet cement, thick clouds hung so low, the top of the Shard was completely hidden, as was the magnificent dome of St. Paul’s. 

“I cannot believe this!” she cried out, running from window to window, while Azriel dragged the tree into the house. “Look, look! You can see Tower Bridge! You can see the Gherkin! You can see Greenwich!”

Azriel smiled at her wild enthusiasm, which only rivalled Piglet’s, who already got himself acquainted, sniffed everything, easily found the kitchen and took a stroll there, examining whether it had fun and tasty things in it. 

“Pinky, come here,” Azriel called, while removing his coat. “Let me undress you.”

The moment Piglet’s hat and coat were off, he made his way to the dog bed by the window, climbed into it and curled comfortably inside, looking like he wasn’t about to leave any time soon.

“Sweetness, may I take your coat?” Azriel laughed, because Elain paid him no attention, as she kept poking her finger at the glass. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said absently, and Azriel actually had to come and pull the coat off her, because she was not interested in disrobing. 

“Well, whenever you are ready to turn around, I am here,” he called out and went to unload all their food stuffs from the fair. He already had a stand for the tree, which he prepared in advance, and now he placed the trunk inside, securing it well, because somehow, he suspected that Piglet would try something stupid–like topple the tree for fun.

At last, once everything was in its place, he took out a bottle of Bollinger from the fridge and set two crystal coupes on the counter. Elain migrated to yet another window, unable to tear her eyes away from the view, as if he was charging her by the minute to look outside. 

Azriel wiped his hands on his trousers and exhaled quietly.

He was a little nervous.

Okay. He was quite nervous.

It was Elain’s birthday and he wanted everything to be perfect.

He knew that Rhys’s and Feyre’s marriage rocked both sisters to their very core, and truth be told, both he and Cassian were also completely shocked. But he sensed that somehow, it was harder for Elain to accept. Elain, the romantic, the matchmaker, who sought love in all things and who thought that with love, all things were possible. He knew that she was happy for Feyre, but unsurprisingly, there was a kernel of envy in there too. He was a bit envious too–or rather, he was miffed–that Rhys beat him to it. He’s been with Elain for months now, and he should’ve been the one to pop the question first and to marry first. Now, that first was stolen from him, and it annoyed him. 

But, whatever was done, was done, and he couldn’t worry about it. Rhys’s story was his own. Azriel had his own story to live and Elain was his priority, And he didn’t want to mess anything up, especially not today. Elain wasn’t expecting anything from anyone, having told him before that her birthdays were always low-key, half-forgotten affairs. Add to it her sister’s surprise nuptials, and…well, he felt that Elain needed to be loved today. Cared for more than any other day. And therefore, he was nervous. 

He turned on some music–Dave Brubeck’s Take Five–and then popped the champagne, quietly, but still startling Piglet out of his blissed out state. The pug jumped up and barked at Azriel angrily.

“Sorry matey. Go back to sleep. This is for our girl,” Azriel told him, while Elain finally turned away from the window and looked at him. But Piglet let out another bark, and Azriel told him sternly,

“If you are going to bark, you will be evicted from here. Do you understand? We already smuggled you into the building because you are a contraband pug. If you want to go and sleep in the car in the garage, then please continue barking. Be my guest.”

Piglet gave a disbelieving huff of indignation at Azriel’s threats and the prospect of sleeping in the garage and burrowed deeper into his new soft bed, turning away very demonstratively.  

Azriel smiled at the ridiculous pug and then turned his attention to Elain. 

“Hey beautiful,” he smiled at her, walking with two champagne glasses. “Happy birthday.”

But instead of taking the coupe from him, Elain basically rammed into him, almost forcing him back a step and wrapped her arms around his waist, hiding her face in his chest. He stood there awkwardly holding two glasses, careful not to spill champagne all over her.

“Hey, hey,” he called out gently. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s amazing,” she sobbed into his chest. “Everything is. Everything is brilliant and perfect!”

“Well, that’s good innit? Better than everything going to shite?”

“Yes, but it’s the best day!”

“We didn’t even do half of the things I had planned,” he reminded her, while kissing the top of her head.

“I don’t care!!!” she cried. “It’s already the best birthday I’ve ever had!”

“Well, then that’s exactly what I wanted. Now, wipe your snotty nose and drink some champagne,”

“You are so rude!” she complained, while pulling away from his chest at last and wiping her nose with her fist.

“Oh you know I am!” he handed her the glass. “To the best birthday girl in the whole wide world!”

He clinked his glass to hers and they drank the cold, sharply tangy champagne. 

“So…” Azriel asked like he was contemplating various options, “do you wanna make out? Or do you want to decorate the tree? Or do you want your birthday present?”

“Hmmm,” she thought and looked around.

Azriel’s place was predictably massive. It was all one enormous open floor plan, decorated in beiges, blues and greys. The colours of a modern bachelor who had a lot of money. He made the place his own with the addition of books, some photographs–mostly of him and his brothers–but it was definitely a place that was decorated for him, and not by him. 

New money. Not the lived-in, comfortable, comforting luxury of Elain’s townhome. However, to her personal secret relief, Elain noticed that there were definitely no traces of any ‘woman’s touch’ in this place. She was sure that it was cleaned by a professional crew, but nothing that said that there was a female frequenting Azriel’s penthouse.

“Did you buy this for him?” she asked quietly, seeing not one, not two, but three dog beds all positioned in different corners of the flat. Each one had a different pile of toys around it. In the kitchen, there was a pair of dog bowls sitting inside a cleverly designed lower cupboard. 

“Yeah,” Azriel followed her gaze, and pointed to a lever on the floor. “He just has to press it and it will pop out. Neat, huh?”

“No, you got all of this for him?” she insisted, looking up at him and forcing him to look back at her.

“Well, yeah…”

She didn’t say anything, but looked back expectantly, waiting for more.

“He is part of the family. He gotta be comfy too.”

“Thank you,” Elain took his hand and pressed it to her lips, causing him to shudder…because, well it was his hand, and she was kissing it like it didn’t matter that it was all covered in scars and burn marks. And it didn’t. Azriel knew with utmost certainty that to Elain, it didn’t matter. “Thank you for everything,” she added. 

“It’s no bother,” he insisted stiffly. “Now then, what’s your decision, birthday girl?”

“I want my present,” she decided, “and then we are going to decorate the tree, and all of that while making out!”

Azriel grinned.

“Smart girl, matchy. Smart girl.”

She flipped her hair and nodded in agreement.

“Go sit down and close your eyes,” Azriel instructed, pointing to the sofa.

Elain skipped across the floor, making him chortle, and then plopped down on the sofa and closed her eyes.

“Is it a good present?” she asked.

“I hope so!”

Elain listened to Azriel shuffle something around and then the sofa dipped under his weight. He placed something on her lap. A box. 

“Can I open?”

“Go ahead and open!”

It was a medium sized box, entirely too big for a ring. Though, maybe Azriel decided to go the Rhysand route and just get her a tiara. But, unless it was the crown jewels, the box was too heavy for a tiara. It was pink, beautifully, professionally wrapped with a huge bow.

There was a card stuck beneath the ribbon and Elain opened it first.

Hey my matchy,

You are my sunshine. You make everything better. You gild the world with joy. Never change. I only ask for you to love me.

Have a wonderful birthday and thank you for allowing me to be part of it.

Irreversibly yours,

Your footballer

And then Elain drowned in a flood of tears. 

“Oh yeah, that worked!” Azriel snickered, as he began kissing her with a near abusive passion, ignoring the salt of her tears, his mouth indulgent and almost perverse on her swollen lips, which puffed up so very sexually from all the attention that he’s given them today.

“What worked?” she breathed, while he pulled her lower lip between his teeth, licking on it softly.

“The fancy words, of course,” he explained lightly, cupping her breast in his hand and squeezing tightly, making her whimper. “I know what works on you, pretty girl.”

“Asshole,” she hissed.

Azriel exploded in laughter and pulled away from her mouth, though his hand migrated under her jumper and he found the thin lace of her bra with his fingers, as he lightly caressed the warm skin of the top of her breast.

She didn’t tell him to stop, but only moved a bit closer, and then began to unwrap the box. 

Hearing the ripping paper and seeing the ribbon woke Piglet up from his rest and he ran over, to see what was happening.

Once the box was open, Elain took out a beautiful cup. Not a mug. But a large round teacup, with a saucer, the rim gilded with gold. It was hand-made, she could see that, and if she had any doubts, the writing made it quite clear.

It said Elain on one side. Other other side, it said Fucking Lovely as Fuck.

All written in a beautiful cursive. 

“Ahh-hh,” she stuttered, looking at the cup.

Azriel was grinning joyfully.

“You like?”

“Hmm. Yes?” she stated politely.

He laughed. Then he leaned and kissed her cheek, nosing into her soft skin.

“I love making my little princess uncomfortable!”

“That’s mean!”

“I am a mean bloke, what can I say?!” he shrugged. “But we’ll keep this mug our little secret. It will be your mug here. We won’t show it to anyone.”

She wrapped her fingers around it and asked, “Did you make it for me?”

“Obviously,” he chuckled.

“Okay. Well, I love it then.”

Only he. Only Azriel Night could make the most inappropriate gift somehow romantic and beautiful. And Elain loved him for it.

Azriel had seven boxes of Christmas tree decorations.

That’s more than Elain had. This was a Windsor Castle-level of the number of baubles, balls and figurines that the boxes contained. They were stunning too–expensive and gorgeously painted and decorated, some artisan, some antique, some clearly from other countries.

“I love Christmas,” he confessed, as they opened the boxes, looking a little bashful about it. “It’s the only bit of happy memories that I have from my childhood…Opening up the boxes once a year, and seeing the old ornaments–they were like family. They were my mum’s mostly…” 

His voice trailed off and Elain did not press him for more information.

From what she could gather, his mother came from a good family, and had a sister, who ended up marrying Lord Darling, who apparently saved her from an attempted rape. Azriel’s mother’s fate was not as happy. She’d met his father, who was wildly possessive and abusive to her. Azriel was born soon after their meeting, and was used as a pawn in their tug of war. To keep being in Azriel’s life, his mother agreed to stay with her nightmarish partner. Cassian was the result of marital rape, and was born a year and a half later. 

Today wasn’t the time for those memories.

Azriel had another bottle of Bollinger chilling in an ice bucket by the tree, and they cut up all the cheese that they bought at the fair, though Elain insisted that it had to be placed on a board. Azriel didn’t make cheese plates, because he was a MAN, but he did have a wooden cutting board, and that would have to do. So while he opened all the boxes, she busied herself with arranging the cheese, along with grapes–grapes? Azriel didn’t even know he had grapes!--and bread. 

Piglet was partying so hard, chasing wrapping paper, diving in and out of boxes, going wild over tinsel, that at one point, he ran into a wall and knocked himself out for a moment. He stood there, dazed, for a few seconds and then collapsed on his side. Azriel had to go and pick him up and shake him until he came to. Then Aziel put him in time out, which Piglet didn’t particularly like, being cordoned off in the corner of the room.

“You need to cool off and think about your life choices,” Azriel told him.

Piglet didn’t want to think about his life choice at all. He ran in angry circles, until he exhausted himself and plopped down on the floor. Then Azriel brought him an amazing treat of banana and peanut butter, a ball and a chewy, and Piglet fell in love with time out. It was the best. All in all, as he considered his life choices, Piglet concluded that being wild is a good choice, since it resulted in banana and peanut butter treats. 

Darkness was falling behind the windows by the time the tree was finally decorated. It was a gorgeous and gaudy monstrosity that Elain absolutely adored. She loved decorating the tree, loved the scent of fresh pine, loved stabbing her fingers with pine needles, and loved being next to Azriel the entire time. 

Azriel, who was currently standing behind her, lightly rolling her thick, now-aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger, her breast nestled in his palm. He bit her ear, making her yelp, laughing low and hoarse against her neck, as he slid his cheek against hers, scraping her skin with his stubble before resting his chin on top of her head.

His other hand palmed her second breast, but this one was even bolder, as he slipped it under the jumper and beneath her bra. Those skilled fingers flicked her nipple, teasing it until she moaned so loudly that Piglet turned his head towards him.

“You like that, beautiful?” he asked.

“Yee-es,” was all she managed.

“It is a nice tree, innit?” he joked, squeezing her nipple mercilessly in his fingers.

“Oh my god,”

“Yes, Ellie. Your wish will be granted. What shall your god give you today?” he inquired.

“Oh shut up!” she tried to elbow him, but he easily twisted away, and then pinched her breast in punishment.

“If you are going to be mouthy like that,” he warned, his voice gliding over her skin like melted butter, “I will put you on your knees and will shut that smart mouth with a generous dose of my dick.”

Elain, unaccustomed to such talk–as if Eris would ever speak to her like that!--and loving it nevertheless, still gasped in shock.

“I…what? You can’t!”

“I can’t?” he challenged, squeezing the globe of her breast ever harder, smashing her soft flesh in his palm.

“You wouldn’t!” she tried again. 

“Sweetness,” he dipped his face to her ear, and whispered warmly, “you will be sucking that cock like it’s your full time job. Those little knees will be bruised. You’ll be drinking milkshakes for a week once I am done with you. Choking and gagging and crying,”

She swayed against him and he caught her, banding his arm over her stomach and then declared,

“But first, I think we ought to have some birthday cake!”

Piglet was seething quietly.

How was it fair that he wasn’t allowed to bring one little stick into the house, but dad and his Elain brought a whole tree!!! And then they took out boxes of awesome shiny balls and wouldn’t even let him play with them. Not only that, they, for some stupid reason, put the shiny balls that he was supposed to play with all over the tree. How was he going to reach them now? He couldn’t climb a tree! He was a dog. Sizing it up, he figured that maybe he could knock it down, though that was kind of doubtful too. This whole situation was unacceptable. He wanted, no, he needed to destroy the balls! He wanted to run with them and then destroy them all. Like he did with balloons. Which he hated more than anything. Balloons and vacuums were the devils, the bane of his existence. Now, he had a whole tree of shiny balls  to dismantle and he began plotting.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” Azriel warned. 

Elain was still trembling, waves of arousal and desire sweeping over her entire body. Between her legs, she was sticky wet, hot and needy, and her nipples felt like they were as big as cherries, swollen and achy, poking at her sweater with pornographic obviousness. There was a decorative mirror tucked into a corner, and when she glanced at her reflection, she saw just how wantonly aroused she looked. There was no mistaking what was on her mind. And yes, her breasts looked bigger than normal, her nipples tauntingly obvious.

And Azriel, damn him, noticed it all. Oh yes he did. The insufferable smirk on his sensual mouth was all the evidence that Elain needed. 

She squirmed in her seat, trying to adjust and crossed her legs tightly, in a vain effort to alleviate some of the pressure in her throbbing pussy. 

“Something the matter, sweetness?” he asked casually. “You look a tad tense.”

“I am fine,” she snapped at him.

“Oh yeah? That’s good. Very good. But if you are, I can relieve some of the tension, should you ask me,”

“Nope. Nothing to ask. I am perfectly fine,” she assured him, her voice sounding a bit strangled. “Now, why shouldn't I laugh?”

He turned to her, and scrubbed at his chin, before explaining sheepishly,

“I baked.”

“You baked?”

“Yes. I thought it would be a good idea to bake…you a cake.”

“A birthday cake?” she guessed, falling in love with him all over again, even harder than before. He baked her a cake.

“Problem is, I am not much of a baker,” he admitted. 

“I would’ve guessed.”

“The result is kind of,” he grimaced, “questionable. I realised too late that I don't know how to bake, that it’s harder than I assumed it would be, and that I am baking for a baker. So, if you don’t want it,”

“I want it!” she cried immediately. “I want it. Az, I want it more than anything!”

He gave her a doubtful look, but then nodded.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He took the cake out of the fridge–that’s what was under the cover–and shielding it with his body, he fussed with it a little, before announcing,

“Ready?!!”

“Ready!” she nodded excitedly.

He turned around, holding the platter in his hands, and began singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her. The cake had a few lit candles in it.

He placed the cake in front of her and said, “make a wish!”

You.

Only you.

Only ever you.

Elain’s wish was simple. Him. She then closed her eyes and blew out the candles.

The cake was…fugly.

That was the kindest way to describe it. Chocolate, by the looks of it. It collapsed in the middle, had weird bulges and prolapses everywhere. Maybe he stepped in it at some point? That could explain its appearance. 

“Sorry it’s so ugly,” Azriel considered the cake seriously.

“Don’t be silly. It’s fine!”

“You think it’s edible?”

“Only one way to find out,” she said enthusiastically. “But I am sure it will be great.”

‘Great’ was a strong term.

But it was edible.

At least around the edges. 

That’s how they ate the cake. Azriel forgone plates and just gave her a spoon, while taking one for himself, a can of whipped cream, and they dug in, eating around the underbaked middle.

It actually tasted pretty good.

Maybe their match was indeed baked in heaven?

Because for a novice, he did very well on the taste. The chocolate was fudgey, pronounced, and he clearly dumped a healthy amount of rum into the cake, because it was boozy as fuck. But Elain loved it. They ate and ate, until there was nothing left but a congealed puddle of unbaked batter.

Leaning back in his chair, Azriel said, “happy birthday, Elain. I hope it was a good one for you. I tried.”

The tree sparkled and shone with hundreds of lights, mirroring the city outside. Snowflakes swirled behind the windows, falling into the darkness.

“It really was actually perfect,” Elain admitted.

He drummed his fingers on the table and pushed his tongue into his cheek.

“That’s good. There is one more gift I’d like to give you.”

“Oh yes!” she remembered. “The unplanned second gift. What is it?”

“I’d like to make you come,” he said simply.

Elain stared at him and then laughed softly,

“I mean, you don’t have to make me come. I can just come with you! It’s not a big deal.”

His eyes glittered with mirth.

She was something else.

“So, where are we going?” she asked again. “Are we taking Piglet?”

“Nah, sweetness. Piglet stays here.”

Azriel rose to his feet and extended his hand to her.

“Come with me, beautiful. I’ll take you to a place where you’ve never been before.”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain #A match baked in heaven #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #azriel and elain fanfiction #my writing #new chapter #acotar fanfiction #modern AU

[riniworld]

bloody night for our love

YANDERE!knight oc x PRINCESS!f!reader

summary//senor just wanted to keep you,after all aren't you two meant to be?

warnings//obsession,yandere behavior,death,killing,blood

reference//you,she/her,my lady,y/n

a/n: Here you had already developed your relationship with Senor because I'm too lazy to write a whole fic about that (and lacking from ideas)

like after two or three weeks?

it was supposed to be a 'family dinner' but everything has destroyed.

you weren't at wrong,you won't apologize.

"i'm not that little child anymore! she can't control me! "

you walked angrily to your room, sinking in your thoughts.

you entered your room and threw yourself on your bed,buried your face in the pillow.

you don't want to cry but who are you fooling?..you don't stand a chance in front of the queen, if she said something it will be done.

you understand how she hate you and why but you too didn't show her your face alot,you either at your garden or in the village.

she don't have the right aftet all what she did, to tell you she can't stand you anymore and what? you should get married!

it's not your fault, you're just a victim in this forbidden relationship.

finally you let the pressure inside your chest get out in a little sobs

waking up at the sunshine and the birds singing would be a good feeling, if you weren't in this state.

getting yourself up with a groan,you don't want to argue with the queen and ruin your day.

So you asked to have breakfast in your room today.

senor has wondered all around the palace to see you

usually at this time you'll be having a breakfast with your sister so he'll get the chance to get lost looking at you, but where were you today?

he have to start his day with your smiling face.

did you went to the village already? didn't he told you to not go without him?

his head filled with ideas from all sorts.

he decided to ask the servants even if it will cause some suspension.

he felt relieved when he knew that you're in your room but then it hit him that something might have happened to you.

knock knock

senor opened the door in a rush when he heard the permission to enter.

you were sitting at a small table drinking tea.

"m'lady are you okay?" he closed the door behind him.

"eh senor? what the matter why are you so worried?"

"you didn't come out so i thought something happened, are you okay?"

you laughed nervously "i just got lazy to get out".

"Are you lying?" he said as he got closer to you.

"pardon?"

"i know when you lie y/n, so what happened?"

you sighed..In the short time you have known Senor, you have learned that he has an anger issues,so you avoided making him angry at all costs. but he always knew if you hide something from him.

"well...

"WHAT!"

"shh please senor someone will hear you"

"i don't f care if someone hear what do you mean she want to marry you to someone?!"

"senor..."

"i won't allow that"

"what are you gonna do??"

"you'll see" and with that he left the room.

you gasp for air as you see the scene in front of you.

this most be a nightmare,it has to be.

Senor's back facing you and under him...the queen and your sister dead body

drip drip

the blood dripping from his sword,this isn't the senor you know.

he turn to you

"run away,run away,run away, RUN AWAY. "

your mind keeps telling you to run away but you can't move anymore.

as senor get close enough he kneeled to your level

"shh,don't cry m'lady...that was necessary they wanted to do us apart!"

he reached his hand to wipe your tears away

"From the day I met your father, our fate was sealed to be together, they have no right to ruin that,right? i did that for our love."

your tears replaced with blood from his hand.

that was his promise to keep you with him forever.

a blood-stained promise

there's alot of red text here...and other red thing☺️(YES i SAID IT)

have a good day/night♡

masterlist

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yanderexreader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere knight x reader #yandere knight

[sepublic]

Do you hate Belos' fans?

If you want my honest, nearly unadulterated thoughts? Well, hopefully this is the last I'll speak on the subject. But in regards to the question; In theory? No. In practice? Well...

They've ignored the actual onscreen characters, dynamics, and themes that the show focused on in favor of building this elaborate fanon and AUs and fics and art of their dead white guys who were never meant to be the focus, hyped themselves up on this entirely offscreen dynamic, and then when the finale didn't deliver on their expectations they gnashed their teeth and turned on the show as a whole because they never cared about the show, just their white favoritism-fueled fanon for it. Because apparently their engagement with TOH hinged entirely on Wittebros, which makes me wonder how they even began watching the actual show to begin with.

These same people viciously turned on the actual protagonists because they never appreciated them as their own characters but as devices to prop up Belos and the Wittebro dynamic, so when they couldn't fulfill that purpose, they were deemed useless and badly written because these people who wrote essays about Belos being left-handed blatantly ignored Luz's explicit onscreen arc and then had the audacity to be baffled by the finale's narrative decisions, and just dismiss Luz as 'badly written' because they refuse to actually engage with Luz for Luz's sake and appreciate her as the main protagonist, who stands more than easily on her own without having to rely on Belos.

These people just genuinely can't seem to comprehend why the show would celebrate this compassionate brown girl over their racist white man, so they went out of their way to disparage Luz, downplay her and her achievements, act like they're spewing some hot takes by claiming Belos is a more interesting character, using whatever convenient excuses they can find; But while the excuse always changes for the situation, in the end it's always because fandom just looooves their bigoted white guys.

So then you have crappy AUs and redemption fics that lightheartedly torture Luz at her expense to explore Belos, or reduce Luz to Belos' sidekick that he secretly cares about, and/or portray Luz's anger towards him as some obstacle towards his ~healing and redemption~ (and you don't need the finale's explicit message to understand why this is so grossly tasteless because fandom hates women and PoC, especially when the two intersect as one character). It's genuinely abhorrent how Belos fans just choose to undermine the entire point of the finale and the show and even Belos himself for the sake of their made-up fanon version.

Like maybe if they actually paid attention to the show and engaged with it on a general level, I might take their complaints a little more seriously; But it's telling how Belos fans just ignored characters who weren't directly relevant/connected to the Wittebanes, until they were. So it's why I can't take it seriously when they disparage the crew for having different priorities because you can just tell they refuse to consider other angles, or go in with the predisposed notion of hating it. The Belos fandom hyped themselves up, and then blamed the crew for leading them on instead of accepting that their speculation on a mysterious character was wrong.

In fact, they're in such refusal to accept this, that some of them even go out of their way to peddle the stupidest behind-the-scenes theories I've ever seen; Particularly, the one arguing that Belos was originally meant to be a sympathetic and tragic villain and was written as such during the first half of the show's run... But when the crew opted to include the Collector in response to TOH being shortened, they just transferred all of Belos' sympathetic qualities to the Collector and left him a pure evil antagonist.

Because obviously, the crew never considered writing two sympathetic villains, right??? It's not as if we don't already have two former members of the Emperor's Coven who unlearn their abuse yet still have different personalities and backstories and dynamics and storylines. No, Belos was supposed to be sympathetic but they deemed that redundant with the Collector, so it's the Collector's fault and it's time to disparage their writing out of jealous resentment.

The criticisms just come across as in bad faith; These people aren't actually interested in critiquing the show. It's all insincere when they discuss how Luz needed to understand how people can become villains (they ignore her dynamic with the Collector and other characters), or how villains need to be humanized because yadda-yadda. It's not because they actually care about these things, it's just a convenient justification for why their white guy deserved better.

Because these viewers are otherwise more than willing to suspend their disbelief and analyze all of the little implications for Belos to understand him, but then refuse to exercise even a little imagination in discussing characters like Luz or the Collector, because it's easier to just dismiss it as inconsistent writing that didn't have any planning behind it. Because they resent these characters for 'taking away' from Belos' spotlight, and with baffling confidence declare any defenses or explanations of the point they're missing as 'stupid takes'.

They talk of how Belos needed to be humanized and have his motives explained, but they were; It's just that these motives weren't framed in a flattering light so that pisses off their sadboi narrative of someone who's afraid of being wrong for the sake of others, rather than only for the sake of his ego (Note that Belos doesn't hallucinate the witches and demons he murdered because he still doesn't care about them). I don't think we can have a meaningful discussion about how Belos was written without first acknowledging a lot of things, such as what is even your stake in trying to argue stuff like how he should've been able to survive, or joking about the protagonists being too dumb to finish Belos off???

I just find it telling how when people criticize how Willow and Gus were handled, or how the Collector went off into space at the end, I can actually understand where they're coming from... But with Belos fans, I'm just utterly baffled to the point where I genuinely wonder how they can think this and if I stepped into some alternate timeline. They claim fandom is guilty of the puritanism that Belos himself displays, but it's not about 'problematic' characters (I'm quite the fan of villains myself), but rather fandom double standards in weeping for Belos while demonizing characters like Lilith as 'getting off easy'.

People understand perfectly that Odalia is meant to be viewed under the lens of a capitalist upper-class suburban white woman who views her family as a status symbol, but then see how Belos is a satire of right-wing conservative white supremacists and the like and just sorta... sweep it under the rug in favor of re-framing Belos as a victim of these mentalities who was brainwashed, rather than someone who gleefully embraced them (regardless of any downsides he may have encountered) because the ideology ultimately benefitted his sense of self.

At first I reasoned that the favoritism towards Belos over Odalia is because one is more fleshed out and whatnot; But after seeing how Belos fans turned on Luz and other characters, I actually do suspect a lot of it is misogyny. It's not as if fandom has ever relied on canon to flesh out faves, these people are proof enough. I remember being baffled by the intense energy there was for Wittebros after Yesterday's Lie aired, wondering where that same energy was for other aspects of the show; At the time I didn't think much of it and figured it just wasn't for me, no judgment, but now? Ugh.

The lack of self-awareness for fandom's obvious habit and tendency with white dudes is just utterly baffling. I'd apply Hanlon's Razor to it, even; Sufficiently advanced ignorance is indistinguishable from malice! These people prove they're more than clever enough to understand and engage with it on a sincere level, but they don't because they don't want to because they're just salty!!!

In the end, it's all just fandom entitlement; Someone else compared Belos fans to those for Kylo Ren and Billy Hargroves and I can't un-see it now. The key difference is that the source material for Belos didn't bend over backwards to coddle and make everything about him; Which means canon didn't feed the beast, and that led to Belos fans not being as obnoxious as the aforementioned groups.

But their portrayal of this guy really is the same as people who put Kyle Ron in flower crowns. It's just this watered-down milquetoast dude they made up in their heads. And without any self-awareness they blame canon and the writers for not adhering to their personal RP headcanons for the character. These are the same people I've seen complain that the show didn't portray Belos' grief over murdering Luz, because it's the whole Oppenheimer effect where if we talk about white people's violence towards minorities, we always gotta make it about the white guy's angst and guilt while brushing past the actual victims and their feelings! Because you know what?

It's clear how much this fandom sleeps on Luz! She's such an incredibly compelling character, the show really is about her, and yet people sleep so much on her depth to talk about others! This is not exclusive to Belos fans, but I find them particularly symptomatic of this problem. Because again, we all know from fandom history (in addition to the explicit onscreen writing) that any claims of Luz not being interesting, or annoying, or flat, is just wrong; And even if it were somehow true, it's not as if that has ever stopped fandom before.

They'll see a female protagonist who is compassionate and say that nice characters are boring, unlike their guy; They'll see a problematic woman and call her an irredeemable bitch, while lamenting how nice characters are underrated and misunderstood as 'basic'. It's all the same. This kind of veers into my complaint about the fandom in general sleeping on Luz despite her being so fascinating, and it's abundantly clear that it's the racism and/or misogyny, maybe even ableism because intersectionality exists!!!

That's why you have people sweeping over Luz's trauma from Belos; They'll obsess over Hunter's because it's more 'intense' or whatever but again, that's never stopped anyone. People deeply understand, Belos fans especially, the psychological layers to Hunter's trauma and how Belos wormed his way inside his nephew's head... But with Luz, they just sorta dumb down their dynamic to whacky enemies on equal footing at times.

There isn't any of that same weight, that same appreciation, for how Luz suffered, and so there's none of the tact, none of the consideration of how they're portraying this, even in jokes or AUs; And that's why people have no problem with making Luz the bad guy for not understanding Belos, even though she did try, and got so terribly hurt for it. And she didn't even need to try to not owe Belos anything. It's why people make cutesy AUs where Belos is Luz's father figure, which is incredibly gross given everything Belos stands for and what he did to her; Because they just don't care about Luz's trauma, nor how gross and creepy Belos was to her. Because they don't care about Luz unless she can prop up Belos.

That's why you have comics taking a scene from Turning Red about a girl of color coming to a new understanding over her immigrant mother's pressures and expectations, and making it about Luz sympathizing with Belos. That's why you have people taking the heartbreaking moment between Camila and Luz in Yesterday's Lie, and making it about Philip and Caleb. It's why you have people insisting more on the parallels than what the two are opposite in, because they're oh so eager to mold Luz into Belos' (and Hunter’s, for that matter) platonic Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and then get angry and lash out at her when she doesn't fit their placid, palatable role; Just like Belos.

Seriously, Belos fans have a fucking victim complex and seem to genuinely think they're being subversive, oppressed underdogs for liking the violent white guy and writing essays about how he's actually femme-coded and neurodivergent and whatnot, and actually in deep pain and misery and needs guidance!!! They think they're oppressed for engaging with darker content and not for fandom racism and white favoritism and just being annoying, so then they come up with things like #BelosFansTakeOver like it's a fucking pride flag. They're Snape fans.

And as I've said before; A part of me was, earlier on, confused about all of the hype and energy. And I think people are drawn to that sort of energy because they see people having fun, and want to participate; So yes, I myself DID end up buying into it, at least a bit. Honestly I think I also had the problem of not fully letting go of my sympathetic Belos speculation, AKA what I personally wanted and not necessarily what fit the narrative the writers were going for; And so I ended up being a bit obtuse in misinterpreting some moments that are obvious in hindsight.

And I think it's partly because, again, the Belos fandom at the time still seemed so reasonable and chill, because they were still hinging on the expectation that their fixation would pay off, and thus had no reason (yet) to resent the show and its focus on Luz and co., and could even be charitable in their interpretation and portrayal of these characters; They liked Luz plenty until they blamed the show for throwing Belos under the bus for her sake, and then proceeded to do the fucking reverse.

And like. I DID actually consider why the finale was written the way it was, and apply that in reorganizing my understanding of Belos; Apologies if I'm patting myself on the back but like. It becomes so much more fun when you work with things. It's baffling because these people are more than willing to put in the thought for wondering why X is a thing with Belos, but it has to be in this way that flatters their blorbo that they demand.

And some of these people certainly seem chill at first, but again I think part of the reason for that is because, like a lot of stuff in regards to fandom racism and misogyny and the like, they don't really seem to register what they're doing as aggravating, so they aren't bothered by it. But even when they are being 'calm' and chill, the way they portray the show through their redemption AUs and whatnot just reveals how they think, because they might not be approaching from some place of intentional malice, but from a willful 'ignorance is bliss' perspective. They haven't been on the receiving end of these constant fandom issues and then wonder why people are getting so heated over something reflective of real-life biases, when fiction was supposed to be a reprieve from all that; So they just act like it’s fandom stans needing to go touch grass.

So these fans come across as soft and comfort-oriented, and then in the same breath express concern over what a terrible person Luz is or whatever without any awareness, because some people are just way too lax about their fandom bigotry. Sorry but if you actually cared about these characters and their themes, you would realize that Camila would rightfully have only murder in mind towards the man who physically and emotionally scarred her daughter, and Masha -whose sole justified takeaway from the Wittebane story was that Philip just fucking sucks- wouldn't tolerate Belos' crap.

And you know what also really fucking sucks? I actually really enjoy Belos as a character and narrative, always have and still do; So it's agonizing to see people get him so wrong, in addition to everything else. In theory, I don't mind the concept of liking Belos, and there are still some people I'm chill with over this! But holy hell I've seen so many Belos fans and Belos fans particularly post all sorts of madness, to the point where I've developed this Pavlovian association between Belos fandom and psychic damage.

If someone likes Wittebros it's pretty much all they post/reblog about. I instinctively brace myself every time I come across such a blog, and I often end up being proven right. It used to be a part of the fandom I could enjoy but now it just feels so hostile towards canon’s themes and celebration, and it’s aggravating when people try to portray the fandom’s callout of this behavior as ‘both sides’ being toxic when what we’re discussing is fandom racism and misogyny, as well as a general refusal to engage with themes that contributes in a negative feedback loop to poor reading comprehension.

I guess I'm so passionate because I've been holding onto these grievances for so long, keeping it bottled for the sake of keeping the peace, but now I'm just tired so why the hell not? It's all reflective of my issues with fandom in general so it's still relevant even if you don't care for TOH. Maybe I should devote my energy into something more useful, I dunno. But as I said, I guess this whole thing is just reflective of societal bigotry and biases, and the lack of reading comprehension as a whole. At least I got the chance to vent!

#the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #vent #rant

[maddithefangirl]

In the Cove (Azriel x Mermaid!Reader)

a/n: I saw some fanart of Azriel with a mermaid Gwyn and I got inspired to write a mermaid reader fic!!

There was a cove that Azriel liked to visit when he needed inspiration. Except for this time, when he got there, it was already occupied.

…

Prythian hadn’t had mermaids in hundreds of years. Ever since the war had wiped them out. Well, had wiped out all of them but you. Somehow you had slipped through the cracks of the great mermaid massacre that all fae learn about in history class. 

Since then, you have been hidden from the rest of the world.

Your golden scales glistened in the light as you made your way to your favorite cove. You had never seen anyone here, so you figured it was safe. This had been one of your many homes throughout the years. There were tall walls of stone with an oval-shaped wading pool that you laid in. It had been your favorite due to the view you would get of the moon at night. 

You spent your time braiding your hair and dreaming of socialization when a figure peered through the entrance. Panic rolled through you as you dove into the water and hid. 

Azriel could’ve sworn that he had just seen… a mermaid? He was too transfixed on the eyes he was able to meet to be able to take in the whole scene before him. And by the time he blinked, she was gone. 

He immediately left and flew to the House of Wind. 

You watched him leave and slowly made your way into the cove. He was the most beautiful being you had ever seen. You had seen fae from afar, but he wasn’t fae, he was something else and that intrigued you. 

…

By the time Azriel made it to the House of Wind, the entire Inner Circle was there for dinner. He broke through the doors panting as all eyes went to him. He said nothing as he went to the library to do some research. Everyone was concerned for him but did nothing. 

Every day after that, you went back to the cove and waited to hopefully see the male again. You had little faith that he would come back. You’re sure that he would never come back, though. You were sure that he thought you were a freak. Little did you know that he had fallen head over heels for you and would do everything in his power to see you again. 

…

He spent weeks doing research on mermaids and isolating himself from his family. He didn’t want to be judged for what he had seen and how he had felt about her. 

Finally, he went to see Rhys in his office. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, brother?” Rhys said.

“What do you know about mermaids?” Azriel asked.

��Well, I know that they went extinct after the war. There was a huge massacre of all the mermaids, and none have been seen since. Why do you ask?”

“Clear my schedule for the week.”

And with that, he was gone. 

…

Back in the cove, you waited for any sign of him. 

The days came and went without seeing him. You were about to give up when a shadow came into the room. The shadow came and wrapped around your wrist. Peculiar. 

Then there he was in all his glory. The moonlight glistened off his dark skin and his… wings? You hadn’t seen them before when you locked eyes. But there he was, and he had the most glorious wings you had ever seen. You had always wondered what it would be like to soar the skies like the birds. 

He reached down to grab your hands in his, but you flinched away. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered as he moved your hair out of your face and curled it around your ears. You smiled in response. 

There was a pull to him that you had never felt before. Then before your eyes, there was a magical golden string from your chest to his. 

Mates.

There had never been an instance where a mermaid had been mated with anyone, but you were special. He knew that you were meant to be his. 

But there was no way that you could be together. 

What was he going to do?

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n

[roseverdict]

Writing Commissions Open!

Hey howdy hey, guess who's broke and whose brain has latched on to the idea of getting a bike or a trike to get places other than the one (1) coffee shop in walking distance!

YEP. I need to open commissions.

However, I do have at least one thing going for me- I'm told I'm fairly good at writing things! Fanfic things, at least. While I'm not dumb enough to outright go "hey, pay me to write fanfiction," I figure I can at least point out some fanfics I've written that seem to have gone over well as examples of my work, since that's most of what I've got for proof of my skills.

x x

x

x x x

x x

x x

I'd show more, but Tumblr won't let me add more images, and even these fought me Tooth And Nail when I was trying to format them properly. Truly a functioning website.

Hopefully these kind of give an idea of the vibes I'm strongest with, too. Pricing and rules will be under the cut. I do have a target I'm trying to reach here, but depending on how well this goes, I might end up keeping commissions open indefinitely. We'll see. :D

DM me if you're interested!

Things I'm Comfortable Writing:

Original Storylines (Brief primer on the world/characters I'll be writing with will be required)

Things like the pieces shown on my AO3 account

OCs

Y/N-style pieces (both with and without the actual usage of "Y/N")

Mild Romance

Gore/Severe Injury

Body Horror

Whump

Look, if it's in the Danny Phantom phandom and basically nowhere else, I'm probably just fine writing it, despite its intensity xD

Things I Will Not Write:

Smut. There's no shame in enjoying it, I just. Don't.

Incest. Absolutely NONE. Even leaving aside the whole debate about whether or not people should ship incest ships, I would not be able to enjoy writing it, which would make the resulting work of low quality, which would be a huge waste of time for everyone involved.

Pedophilia- specifically, ships with a minor and an adult multiple years their senior. See above. 17yo x 18yo is pushing it, but depending on the circumstances, I might allow it. They aren't exactly in completely different phases of life there. However, I'm in my 20s and don't particularly want to think about or write about kids the age of my youngest brother dating people my age or older, you feel me?

Bigotry presented to the reader as a positive thing. I'm not gonna write your favorite heroic character declaring OOC that minorities are terrible people. If you want something from the POV of a character meant to be terrible, such as someone like Fire Lord Ozai in AtLA, however, I may be willing to write it.

I reserve the right to refuse any commission and not have to explain why. Person-to-person, though, this will likely only come up if someone tries to commission something that crosses these lines and refuses to acknowledge such.

Payment: 5¢ USD per word. This works out to…

$12.50 for 250 words

$25 for 500 words

$50 for 1K words

and so on.

I'll need half the payment up front as a deposit, then the rest upon completion. If, for whatever reason, I fail to write the commission, you will be refunded in full.

If you pay me for a given number of words, I will do my best to stick to it. I will make sure you at least get your money's worth, but if I just can't quite fit the writing into the given limit, I won't charge you for the extra words. Call it 100 words or so of wiggle room.

A commission for a fic 1K or larger that runs 100 words or less over the intended length will not cost extra

A commission for a fic between 500 and 999 words that runs 50 words or less over will not cost extra

A commission for a fic 499 words or below that runs 25 words or less over will not cost extra

A commission for a fic that has enough going on to run over that limit will result in me contacting you to ask for either a scaled-down plot or payment for the extra writing.

I will not consider calling a commission complete until I can hit the target wordcount at minimum.

If it should happen that I just can't make a scene stretch to the full wordcount, but you still want to keep what is written, the words that were not written will be refunded.

#writing commissions #writing comms open #id in alt text #atla #rottmnt #tmnt #gravity falls #gf #msa #mystery skulls animated #ninjago #steven universe #steven universe: future #animator vs animation #ava/m #sticks #su #suf #trike saga

[sohypothetically]

Let's go back in time, Lovelies, to 2012. I had just mainlined The Hunger Games series for the first time (and the second, then the third) and had never read a fanfic. I barely knew what they were.

So I read my first fic. My First Date with Katniss Everdeen

It was unputdownable. (Is that a word? It should be a word.)

Anyway, I remember reading Mockingjay and being struck by the gap between when Katniss goes back to 12 and when Peeta returns. Where was Peeta? WHERE WAS HE? I became a bit obsessed.

Moving On was born. It's a short 33K fic that attempts to answer this question. Told from Peeta's point of view, the goal was to get the reader up close and personal with the action in the Capitol.

The Blurb: What happens to Peeta while Katniss is awaiting trial at the end of Mockingjay? How does he put himself back together? How does he end up back in District 12? Takes place before the Epilogue. Rating is T. May move to M due to some hijacking memories.

Fanfic.net

Almost immediately after finishing that, I started writing another. Building the Dream was meant to be my own sort of Empire Strikes Back. It's told in third person and it actually covers some of the same events of Moving On.

The Blurb: Dr. Aurelius treats Peeta and brings him back to himself at the end of Mockingjay. How does that happen? What role does President Paylor have in making sure Peeta can become whole without Plutarch using him as a piece in a new game? Rated T due to descriptions of Peeta's treatment by the Capitol post Quarter Quell.

Fanfic.net

If you decide to check them out, let me know!

What I loved about these stories:

They got me started on writing.

They were in-universe, canon. At the time that's what I loved to read.

There's no sex. (more on sex scenes much, much later.)

Both of these are *character first*. That's how I write all of my stuff and it's translated into my originals as well. I want to write characters that I want to read.

I loved Building the Dream because it really helped me develop an older love interest. Also, I'm especially proud of a few of the battle scenes.

What was hard:

I don't read a lot of political stuff, so the politics was hard. I remember talking to @randomnoteforfuturereference for hours over some of the things he thought would happen as a result of the events of Mockingjay.

It's meant to be a trilogy. I never wrote the third installment and that really bothers me.

I don't know why I never put either of these on AO3. I remember getting roasted horribly for a canon description mistake in Moving On, pulling it, correcting it, and then like, curling up and sucking my thumb for days. Clearly, that affected me.

One more thing. I'm pretty sure the third chapter of Building the Dream was right around the time I read Hotel Paper the first time.

It haunted me. Gutted me. I still think about it.

If you haven't read it, you should. Seriously. But be prepared to cry and need some tissues.

#10 years of fanfiction #10 years of fanfic #sohypothetically writes

[cocktailjjrs]

Why does everyone hate Mori soo much!!!!

The show would be soo bland without his sorry ass interfering every now and then.

I actually like the way his character is presented!

(No hate please, if you don't like mori feel free to skip)

So I've been doing a bit research and kinda a character study for a fic i'm writing. And ofc Mori has a part in it.

And so, i go on and look through all his scenes. Read through a few fics to see his interactions with other characters. And do a bit on character analysis as a whole.

It baffles me how people just downright hate him or plain misunderstand his Character as whole.

Like, i don't usually try to defend characters online because everyone has their reasons and rationale, but the whole thing with Mori seems so absurd to me, because we've seen the villains do soo much worse!

Canonically speaking, while he has done some bad shit, he's not the worst in the series either!!!

BSD has always taken the 'it can't get any worse than this' phase and proved it wrong. Mori was supposed to be 1st/2nd season's antagonist.

And no, i don't mean to say that he is not evil. He is downright evil, a mastermind through and through. He's the Port Mafia's boss for gods sake, the most dangerous underground organization, he has a reputation to live up to!

Yes, he is a calculating bastard. He measures each and every move and knows about warfare in depth, and he wields his knowledge as a weapon very well.

Is he a paedophile? Maybe. It's been implied once or twice (if i'm not wrong)

Was his treatment of yosano wrong? Definitely! and he is an ass for that!

But he is SUPPOSED to be an ASS!!! That's the whole point of that character! And i believe those are the character that bring sooo much excitement to the storyline!

But everyone seem to have misunderstood his character soo much or just doesn't want to see the whole picture. And I used to think Chuuya was misunderstood!!!

You remember, when in 15, Dazai was given his first mission as a PM member and that time Mori said 15!Dazai reminded him of himself?

Now think back to what 15!Dazai was -

a teen

suicide maniac

a genius who has never been surprised

manipulative freak

acting carefree and harmless but having a killing intent hidden in plain sight

Now put it in this perspective,

Mori had a life before war that we have no idea about. He was a doctor. He was desperate to win the war by any means, even if it included bringing a child in the military camp, even if it meant keeping a death loop going on and on, even if it meant permanently traumatizing the soldiers.

But WHY?

Mori, as it has been stated multiple times, is someone who is always calculating and rational. He does not let his emotions overtake his decision making, thus making him cold towards others. But there must be a reason why he turned out to be so.

After war, he started working underground, creating a neutral zone for criminals. He knew Natsume sensei before that time. I always wounder why would Natsume entrust his vision to someone like Mori (along with Fukuzawa), if he was really a lost case.

After the whole fight with Fukuzawa over Yosano; he turned to take control of Port Mafia. Maybe he wanted to take Yosano with him then, to create an army of unstoppable ability users.

But the war was over. Then why would he need to do that?

Mori is one of those few characters whose backstory is not at all known to us. I can only think of Dazai and Fyodor other than him with no clear backstory. This makes him a dangerous wild card in a lot of situations. We saw that with Tachihara and Verlaine (completely different circumstances but instead of killing them he kept them close)

But then i read fics that depict him as feral and unhinged, portraying him as a predator who took advantage of poor poor Chuuya and/or Dazai, making them do horrible stuff without their consent.

Like, DID WE EVEN WATCH THE SAME SHOW?

Dazai and Chuuya have been unhinged wayyyy BEFORE they met each other or Mori.

Dazai is not some soft kid, who was physically and sexually assaulted, he was not made to behave tough with Akutagawa. And he certainly was not afraid of Mori. Does Dazai have PTSD related to Mori? Maybe, but in regards to Oda's death. That's it.

Chuuya is not someone who would sit still and take punishment from scalpels and whatnot because he fucked up a mission. Mori is not a fool to send Chuuya on a death mission just because he is afraid he'll take his place or to spite Dazai.

Does this bring a rather angst narrative to Soukoku? Yes it does. Does it make sense? if it's cannon compliant, no it does not!

Soukoku does not need Mori to be the bad guy to come together!

(i think he is no 1 Soukoku shipper himself)

He is not soft but he is not unhinged either. He knows how the ways of war work and he knows there can be no emotions involved if you have to win the war.

You don't always get such characters who are so morally grey, they do everything bad, they are supposed to be evil but still, the plot will be lost without them. Mori is such a great example of that.

Wanting to have peace and staying by the rightful path is all well and good. But where there is light, there will be darkness (because it's definition itself says its absence of light, so you can't exactly have one without the other). And without anyone to keep a check on that darkness, it will consume all.

Without Mori taking over Port Mafia, if we recollect how the previous boss had lead, Yokohama would have been way too bloodier and chaotic than it is now.

Plus, i don't think if Mori was such a bad boss, all of Port Mafia would jump in to protect him against agency during the Cannibalism arc. Hell, even if the grunts did not have a say in it, the executives and commanders did. And we saw them all - Chuuya, Kouyou, Kajii, Black Lizards; hell even Akutagawa and Higuchi were there! And that fight was after he had insisted no altercations with the agency.

My point is, can i have a normal representation of such a great character?

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #i feel so bad when i see ppl hating him for things he have not done #like hate him for killing Oda #or for traumatizing Yosano #but thats it #what else did he do? #And then on other hand everyone just forgave Fukuchi like he did nothing wrong 😭 #not fair #bungou stray dogs #ougai mori #bsd mori #port mafia #bsd #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu