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candied-cae · 1 year

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And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Freaks and Fools

Chapter 15/? - - - Read it on AO3

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Word Count: 9,634

Summary: While they await the final verdict, passing the hours by until the Hawkins Police decide what will happen to Eddie Munson, a few of them have some fun in his hospital room. A few others hammer out the details with the government operatives. And, eventually, the shoe has to drop...

What's going to happen so they can move on from Spring Break?

More ST Fics

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While most of the party was making their way to the high school, agreed upon gathering around one of the tables outside, one faded yellow pizza van was arriving at the hospital. Argyle got them parked, and Robin was swinging the door open for their two smaller backseat passengers to climb out. El, of course, was someone they already expected to bring. To make sure she didn’t get cornered somewhere alone while the others got things figured out. But Erica was also trailing along. She had promised to check on Max first thing for her brother while he was off with Dustin, telling the rest of Hellfire a good cover story for what was going on.

“Come along, ladies,” Robin grinned at the two as they hopped out onto the parking lot.

The older kids escorted the younger of them to check in and obtain their visitor passes and waved to Officer Nichols. He was posted outside Eddie’s room on a chair in the hallway, flipping through the morning paper while he sipped on a cup of crappy hospital coffee. He returned the gesture with a tip of his cup while Argyle hovered behind Erica, following her into Max’s room while she made her visit. The other two went for the door across the hall as Robin poked her head through first.

She actually had a particular question she’d been asked to extend before El came in with her.

“Heeyyy, Eddie?” she asked as she cracked open the door to the guy’s room, wearing a big, bright smile to hopefully win him over effortlessly.

Eddie looked over from the tv set quietly playing a cartoon. There was a second of confusion when he saw her face - only having expected to see El’s - when he noticed the expression spread across it. She had a suspicious kind of smile that cued him that she had a favor in mind,“ What do you want?”

The thing was that when Robin was getting picked up, the girl had stepped out of the car to say something before she got buckled in. Robin leaned over and El whispered to her something about when she had the sleepover with Max over the summer. That she’d mentioned wishing she could paint her nails. Max might’ve been a rough and tough kind of girl, but she liked feeling pretty and special too. But as active a kid as Max was, it would just chip off in no time. So the girl never really went through the trouble, even though she liked the look of them. And well… Max wasn’t really going to be doing too much right now… so El wanted to paint her nails as a little surprise for when she woke up.

But El had never even painted her own before, so surely it wouldn’t go very well.

So Robin had an idea.

She stepped a little further into the room and put her hands together,“ So, El needs to practice.”

“Practice?” he quoted back to her, his confusion coming back quickly.

“Painting nails.” Robin clarified,” She wants to paint Max’s. I offered to do it for her, but she really wants to do it herself.”

“And, what does that have to do with me?”

Robin hummed her words and came in just a little closer,“ Well, you don’t really need your hands, you know? Can’t even move them very far at the moment, so…”

“No.” he stopped her quickly.

“Come on! You’re not busy right now!” she argued.

With a wave of his hands, as far as they could while he was under the charges and restrained, he threw back,“ Offer her yours!”

“Mine are already painted! Obviously!” she told him, flashing her maroon-tipped fingers at him with a stern face.

And then Eddie was silent.

Considering.

Could he really say no? Even if it was being said to Robin’s face, it was really being said to El. And the girl did save his life. And she was kind of his favorite. And he liked Little Red. And he felt pretty bad for both of them…

“Fine.” He gritted out through clenched teeth,” But I’ll only accept black polish. Nothing frilly, or you’ll mess up my vibe.”

“I assumed that would be your preference.” Robin smiled to herself, pulling a bottle of black nail polish out of her back pocket that she nabbed when she came up with the idea,“ El! Come on, he’s in!”

The girl timidly joined them, her own hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she came forward to Eddie’s bedside.

He splayed his hand out for her and dropped his voice to sing a line,” I want it painted blaaack~”

He was hoping for a smile. Or a laugh. Or just, something to let him know he was funny and making the situation entertaining. But she just looked at him with a blank expression. And then her eyes drifted up at Robin, who was pulling up another chair, like she was asking for help with the comment.

“Come on. The Rolling Stones,” he explained, because maybe she didn’t know their whole discography, but she had to at least know the name.

But nothing. She just looked back at him, not even a glint of recognition behind her eyes.

“Okay, seriously? The Rolling Stones? You don’t know The Rolling Stones? They aren’t my favorite or anything, but geez- have you been living under a rock, girlie? They’ve been makin’ music for like twenty years.”

Robin chastised him with a gentle smack to his shoulder for expecting the kid, who had never been outside of a lab until three years before, to know about any musical artists except for her favorites. The two girls were getting sat down side-by-side on Eddie’s right hand when Arygle and Erica came into the room. They made themselves at home in the other chairs on Eddie’s left side and watched what was playing, which turned out to be an episode of Scooby Doo, Where Are You!

It was slow work of the pair on his hand. Robin was showing El a comfortable way to hold it and get a good angle for the brush. Showing her how to wipe off the excess polish in the rim of the bottle, and how to start in the middle before working her way back and pulling it along the sides to make it clean and easy to keep on the nail.

“Doesn’t get very messy if you don’t stress and take your time. ’Course, if you do get outside the lines a bit, not a big deal.” She added and exemplified with his pointer finger, letting the brush barely slip over the side,” I just take my thumb and gently scrape the little bit off of the skin with my nail to fix up the edges, like this-”

“Ow!” Eddie complained and shot Robin a glare.

She ignored the dramatics to whisper to El,” It doesn’t really hurt-”

“Yes, it does,” he insisted,” You just dug your nail into my- my-” he struggled for the word.

“Your cuticle?” Robin finished for him.

“Yeah! And it’s pointy, Robin!”

She rolled her eyes at him,“ It doesn’t hurt, El. Boys are just wimps. Max’ll be way tougher than this patient. When you do hers, she won’t even feel it-”

Robin had said it quickly. Absentmindedly. For a second, forgetting that Max was in a coma and couldn’t feel anything at all. And El didn’t look like the words hit her too badly, but Robin started sputtering anyway.

“I mean, even if she was awake, she wouldn’t… Like, we all know Max is a tough cookie in her own right, and she’d be fine. And she will be fine! And girls really do handle things better! The whole ‘beauty is pain’ thing and- Boys really complain about this sorta stuff way more and…” she fizzled out of her defense and added one last note,” It really doesn’t hurt. Promise.”

El simply nodded back.

“Says you.” Eddie grumbled to himself,“ How many slumber parties you been to where they train you mini-torturers anyway?”

Robin shrugged and focused on holding his middle finger for El to try painting on,“ Oh, none. I just sometimes make Steve try colors out with me when I can’t pick one. But he’s antsy and always picks it off within the hour, so… I get lots of practice.”

“You’re lying,” he dismissed the idea quickly.

She just quirked an eyebrow at him with a quiet “Am I?” that left him wondering.

Before Eddie could consider her words much further, Argyle was leaning over to Erica and asking who she thought the bad guy was for this particular episode. Now, of course, he’d already seen it and remembered who was hiding under the mask. So did Robin and Eddie. But Erica thumbed at her chin and hummed while recounting some of the plot.

“Weighing the variables," she’d said.

And the conversation moved on. Robin passed Eddie’s hands into El’s so she could continue, and the room was alight with the discussion of a far simpler mystery than the one they had waiting for them in the real world. And El was shy about it for a bit. She hesitated to take his hand, and she was stiff and extra careful with it when she held it. Like his hands were delicate and fragile. But after a few minutes rolled by, she was sufficiently focused on her paint job, instead of the fact that the hand was connected to someone. She started to relax around them. Letting their conversation pass over her while she soaked it up. Listening, but not worried about answering herself.

It was comfortable and easy.

The rest of the crew was less so at comfort or at ease.

The folks who were sent off to the meeting had all gathered around a cement table with the slow traffic of townspeople around them. Some of them go inside. Some of them leave. Some of them were just milling about like they didn’t know what to do.

Nobody really knew what to do. This sort of tragedy wasn’t something Hawkins had ever been faced with. And even the people who knew what was really going on didn’t know exactly what to do.

They had the barebones of a game plan. The idea was to get some tapes set up so they had a shield or buffer between them and Vecna when they rode into battle. And the understanding that they needed to find a way to take to that fight as soon as possible, preferably before Vecna got himself fully pulled back together. But there wasn’t anything solid. Nothing to really stand on except shifting quicksand.

Which was a maddening reality.

Nancy was mad, in case no one noticed.

She kept finding herself mad, what felt like all the time.

It felt like she just had this hair trigger, and so many things set it off.

And now she was meeting with a woman who kept pissing her off. So surely she was going to get even madder within the next few minutes. But she was meeting up with her with Jonathan, Steve, Joyce, and Hopper by her side. And - if the way he kept his arms crossed and his expression sour after Nancy pointed out that they handed El back to Dr. Brenner was any hint - Hop would be right there with her on being pissed off. They also had Will and Mike. They tried to leave them behind, but they both insisted on coming with them.

They hadn’t been there waiting very long. Maybe ten or so minutes. Sitting silently together. Because they didn’t really have much to say to each other. Next to her, though, Mike sat with a bouncing knee.

Then, just as Nancy was thinking she would need to snap at her brother for being incapable of sitting still- three agents strolled up.

They were all dressed in uniformity: dark, neutral suits and trench coats, hats and sunglasses, glossy, black dress shoes, and the exact same silver watches on each of their wrists. They were headed by the same woman Nancy kept butting heads with. She walked in the middle while two men were just shortly behind. And she was the only one with a briefcase tight in her fixed grip. The other two didn’t have one, but when the wind whipped and their coats opened, she could catch sight of the holsters on their hips.

“This isn’t all of you,” the man on the left said in place of a greeting. He was a tall and lanky guy. Bushy eyebrows and slicked, jet-black hair that just barely poked out of his fedora.

“No. It’s not.” Hopper answered, though clearly not giving up the information the man wanted him to. Silently challenging the guy to push it. See how tough he really thought he was. Hop took a step forward and told him,” But it’s everyone you’re going to get. So, let’s talk.”

“Let’s.”

The woman cut between them, seeming to try and soften the tension, though Nancy felt like she did the opposite every time she’d seen her,“ Why don’t we start with what happened to you? It’s been months since you were presumed dead-”

“Eight months,” the guy on the right clarified. Shorter than the other. With a mop of dirty blonde on his head and a speckling of freckles across his cheeks.

Hop just shrugged and blew between his lips casually,“ Not much. Blew up the mall gate. Wasn’t enough to kill me. Russians came back. Found me. Smuggled me out. Threw me in a cell. Sat in prison til we snuck our way back over.”

“You say that like it’s simple-” the woman started.

“It’s the simplest part of this mess because it’s over and dealt with.” He declared,” So let’s skip to the next part: the bullshit happening right here, right now.”

And she didn’t really seem to like that answer. Probably something about paperwork and files that would be left blank or vague about his unaccounted-for time. But the blonde didn’t hold any argument.

“So, what do you know?” he asked, content with moving right along to the current shit show.

“We know there’s a problem in fair Verona. A disagreement.” Will spoke up. Having just covered the play in Lenora, the legendary dueling families were fresh on his mind. And the need to know if these people were friends or foes to his sister was one of the most urgent concerns he'd been thinking over time and time again.

And then, as if Mike was right there in his head, he continued the comparison,“ A disagreement about what to do with El. So, are you Montagues or Capulets?”

The woman rolled her eyes, and with an exasperated tone said,“ We’re in this with Dr. Owens. We know the girl didn’t cause all of this-”

“But we don’t know what did.” The blonde stepped forward to insist,” Care to enlighten us with what you’ve found out while you were running around?”

Nancy shifted in her seat,“ How much do you know about Dr. Brenner’s original experiment?”

“His data’s on a need-to-know basis,” he returned.

“So nothing? Or just about?” Nancy guessed. Enjoying just a little bit of how it felt to know more than them about the atrocities of their department’s precious scientist.

“The point?” the black-haired one pushed.

“Well - since it’s all ‘need-to-know’ at this point anyway - the first child he snatched for his superpowered kids game was Henry Creel. I assume you’ve at least looked into what happened at the Creel house a few decades ago considering the similarity in the recent murders?”

The woman gritted her teeth,“ Yes, we have-”

“Good.” Nancy steamrolled on through,” After those, the doctor got custody of him. Made him subject number one of his great experiment. Used him as the blueprint to try and replicate his… condition, in others. But, if the dead and tortured family was any indication, he wasn’t very stable. For some reason, or other, the doctor removed him from the experiment and kept him in the lab to keep an eye on him. Gave him an implant that suppressed his abilities. Henry didn’t like that. So when he got the implant out and had the opportunity to use them again, he killed over a dozen of the newer models and just about every member of staff at the lab.”

“El,” Mike jumped in,” was the one who stopped him from getting out by getting rid of him. She was stronger. Trapped him in the Upside Down all on her own. Practically by accident. On instinct. So he couldn’t hurt more people.”

“Sounds like a happy ending. Just one problem: what’s he been doing causing death and destruction over the course of these last two weeks then?” the taller man asked.

“It’s not been just these past two weeks. Every time we’ve had… an ‘event’ it’s been him trying to get back. Get back here.” Joyce informed.

Hop summarized the timeline,“ Three years ago, Dr. Brenner was pushing her, and she made contact in the Upside Down. Once Henry found out there that there must be a way to reopen that connection, he was. He’s been trying to claw a way back here and finish business. Which we’re all pretty keen on not letting him do.”

“Why- What does he want to do that we can’t let happen? If he’s just trying to come back, why doesn’t El just open the door and let him through so all the other things stop mixing in?” the woman asked, rubbing her temples.

“He wants to destroy everything,” Nancy answered. Cold. Remembering what he showed her. His promise for what he’d do.

The air of the conversation shifted. The three of them were finally starting to understand the stakes at play this time.

“It wasn’t just about hurting the people in the lab that made him a prisoner. He wants to get rid of all of it.” Jonathan explained a little further.

“What would he even gain from that?”

Nancy took back over,“ He thinks humanity is a failure. A calamity with faults so deeply ingrained in us that the only choice is to start creation, civilization, all over again. In his image of what’s right and natural, of course.”

“And- where do we stand with this? With keeping this from happening?”

“He needed to take four lives to open the gate and get back onto this side. We met him in the Upside Down while he was staking out Max and lit his ass up.” Steve answered with a slight nudge to Nancy’s shoulder for being the one to fire the buckshot right into his ugly mug.

“But it wasn’t enough.” She admitted,” Max died. And he disappeared when the gate opened, but El kept her from staying dead, so the gate snapped shut again. We don’t know what happened after that. He could be in some kind of limbo between dimensions, or hiding out somewhere here, or still on the other side. We just don’t know. Will can’t feel him.”

The blonde looked at the boy,“ You can’t?”

Will shook his head,“ Not like the last times he’s come back. He’s not totally there, sparking things up again. But he’s not gone. He’s still there, just… small, and- and it’s like he’s curled up in some corner. Putting himself back together.”

“And what happens when he’s got himself straightened out?” the other man asked, unkept eyebrows raised.

Nancy let out a remorseful huff,“ Best guess is he tries to brute force the gate back open with Max’s half-death. Or he’ll try to reach back over and finish the job. Maybe even go after someone new if he has to, but he doesn't like losing, so surely he wants to get at Max.”

“Which we won’t let happen.” Steve needed to say.

The agents looked… off-kilter. Like they’d been rocked off of their foundation for the first time. The first real surprise. They were used to dealing with weird things. Unusual, inexplicable things. Dangerous things. But this was a whole new ball game, and there were finally getting a lay of just how messed up the land was this time.

“And what of the NINA Project?” the woman steered the conversation, wanting to finish fleshing out where they all stood within the organization.

“We didn’t stick around long. But what we did see was a lot of bodies, a lot of fire, a helicopter fell out of the sky… and Dr. Brenner can’t hurt El anymore.” Jonathan filled in.

“Dr. Owens?”

“Didn’t see him.” Will said,” We’ve been telling El to take it easy after the fight and trying to find One again, so she hasn’t tried to find him yet, but she doesn’t know what happened. Didn’t see him after Brenner drugged her.”

“But the girl, the project itself, it was successful…?”

Mike confirmed,“ Her powers are back. Stronger than they were when they went away. But that doesn’t mean that this will just get taken care of with a snap of her fingers when we find him. She threw everything she had at him-”

Nancy threw in,“ While the rest of us were risking our lives doing the same-”

“-And all that didn’t finish him off. Somehow, he’s still kicking. And he’s going to keep trying to get back over here if we can’t take the fight to him and end it for real.”

The three agents were silent for a minute. Processing, if the locals had to guess. Trying to figure out what it all meant and what options they had. They all looked deflated by the time the woman spoke up.

“What’s the plan?”

“Wow, you don’t have one for us? Shocker.” Nancy cut out.

“We-”

“It’s so surprising that you are, yet again, useless.”

Joyce put her hand over Nancy’s to try and soothe her,” We’ll figure it out.”

The woman sounded humbled, quieter, when she next asked,“ What can we do?”

And maybe that was it.

Maybe that’s what Nancy has been waiting to see. To see them accept it, just accept that they messed up. Accept that they didn’t have all the answers. That they were wrong. They didn’t say it outright. That was probably lesson one when they joined the supernatural clean-up crew: Not admitting culpability.

But that silence. And the question that followed.

It did something. Took some pressure off the hair-trigger of Nancy’s rage. Because it meant she’d been justified before. She was right and now they knew it.

She took a breath and calmly asked,“ Can you bankroll a trip to the RadioShack and wherever else we go to for supplies?”

And the woman nodded,“ We can do that."

“And Eddie and Max’s hospital bills,” Mike added.

“And when two more come to town, we need to get their citizenship worked out.” Joyce considered the Antonov’s.

“And find a way to make sure the California Stowaways don’t have any problems trying to graduate after this mess.” Jonathan thought for himself and Argyle.

“And, if you hear anything from Dr. Sam, you let us know. You let us know if you hear anything about unexplainable earthquakes, demo-murders, or general Upside Down related business. The minute you know. So we all stay on the same page.” Nancy spoke.

“And whatever Max wants when she wakes up, she gets. Period.” Steve added.

Jim pointed out,“ And guns. We’d like more guns.”

Nancy quickly agreed,“ I second the vote for guns.”

Which brought a smile to Hop’s face. That girl was something all her own.

“We’ll start working on things.” The man on the right said after he was done jotting things down in a notepad.

The three agents nodded a silent agreement and were about to walk away when the sight sparked something for Nancy.

“This is it?”

“What?” the woman asked her.

“This. The three of you. This is all of you that’s left. Isn’t it?”

The teens and two parents looked at her and then between the agents when they didn’t have a thing to say for themselves.

Jonathan questioned it next,“ Is she right?”

“We-” the leftie was about to lie when the woman cut him off for the simple truth.

“There are two others still working on contacting any of the team that might’ve made it out of the NINA Project. But besides that, this is all. We’re it.”

“You used to be dozens with a fleet of vans…” Mike wondered in shock, remembering the insurmountable difficulty they’d been to dodge three years before.

“The Capulets have made times difficult for the Montagues. We got stretched thin, and most of us that were trustworthy enough to stay on the force on Owen’s side went to work at the bunker in Nevada. The rest of us came out here when things started looking hairy. Which… isn’t a comforting reality, I’m sure. But, if you focus on fine-tuning that wishlist so we can be done with Fair Verona as a whole, maybe we still have a chance at getting out of this play better than the lovers did.”

Nobody really knew what to say. But the woman stepped forward and spoke directly to Nancy for her last lines.

“We’ll keep you updated with what we know, and you do the same. We haven’t gotten along well, up until this point. But we all want this to be over. And we all want to suffer as little damage as possible. We don’t have to be adversaries in getting across the finish line.”

Nancy met her gaze. And for the first time, she wasn’t so furious at the green staring down at her.

“Agreed.”

And then they were gone. Packed into black cars and driving off to “deal with business.”

And Nancy found herself left with… a vacancy where her anger had sat. She still had plenty to be mad about, but the focus of it that she had temporarily shifted onto the government suits was now gone. And she was left dissatisfied. And the hollow feeling wasn’t enough. It didn’t sit in her, filling her up and taking up her attention, like the anger did. And then she had to wonder if she might’ve made the whole mess worse than it needed to be. At least a little bit.

They were wrong for being in Hawkins and not saying anything, yes.

They were wrong for letting El suffer Dr. Brenner’s experiments again, yes.

They were wrong for taking down to her before, yes.

But she turned them into a big, evil monster in her head that they simply weren’t. They weren’t the monster they had to defeat at the end of the day. But maybe she’d decided they were because they got in her way enough and were something she could fight against while Vecna remained a big question mark in her notebook.

So maybe she’d been unnecessarily mean, fostered animosity between them because it felt better to have a reason. It felt better to have something to be mad at and yell in the face of.

Maybe she should be worried that it felt better to be mad at people who didn’t completely deserve it than to not have anything to do with herself.

“Welp,” Hopper clapped his hands on his legs and stood up, interrupting her train of thought,” I have a Chief of Police to soften up.”

“Bribery?” Joyce asked him, just a hint of judgment in her tone. Not much, though.

“If it works.”

After a little while, El had moved on to Eddie’s other hand. She was far more comfortable with holding it and painting along his short nails as she was reaching the end of her work. There was some discussion happening around her. Not one that she’d been paying much attention to for the last few minutes. She had followed along earlier. But over the last little bit of time, she’s had a question buzzing around her mind she really wanted to ask that was distracting her.

“Eddie?” she spoke quietly, not wanting to stop the room’s talk even if she was stealing his attention for a minute.

He looked away from Argyle’s lackadaisical questions about life growing up in rural Indiana he’d been posing for everyone over the last twenty minutes. She hadn’t looked at him when she spoke, kept her eyes fixed on the pinky finger in her hold as she started its first coat.

“Yeah, angel?”

She hesitated, swallowing to steel herself before she just tried to push it out,“ Dustin said… he said they call you ‘freak’ too?”

And maybe the words themselves would’ve sounded like a statement. But from her, they were certainly a question. And they sounded like just the tip of an iceberg. Because she said “too.” And she said it softly and ashamed.

Someone made her feel that way.

“Does someone call you that?” he asked, voice gentle as he could make it. The other three in the room pretended like they couldn’t hear them, instead trying to paint a picture for the Californian of the divisive political nightmare that was the Starcourt mall when it was built the summer before.

El didn’t answer though. Just kept her gaze on sweeping the black polish down his nail. Lips tight together with a slight, barely perceptible tremor that said all too much.

With a sigh, Eddie pulled on the part of his character that he thought might help.

“Well, for the record,” he started, bringing himself all high and mighty against her sullen expression,” over here they call me ‘The Freak.’ So, like, the freakiest freak of them all, you know. I get it. I am a freak. I’m weird and off and certifiably freaky, and I like it. But, you little lady? You ain’t no freak. You’re super normal.”

She giggled at the idea. Couldn’t help herself. Eddie must’ve had her figured all wrong to say something like that.

“What?” He wondered, playfully dropping his head to the side to look at her,” People never tell the kiddo with magic powers she’s normal?”

She cast her eyes up at him as if to ask “What do you think?” before quickly putting them back on their task.

He shrugged it off,“ I mean, sure, the magic power part is, admittedly, a little off the baseline. I won’t lie. And the haircut. But I’d say that makes you way cooler than everyone else. I was rocking the tight buzz myself once upon a time, and not everyone can make it work like the two of us do. But besides those two very small factors, you seem like just any other little girl to me. Way more normal than miss Erica over there. First time I met her, she was already lecturing me about venomous knives-”

“It was one poisoned kukri,” she corrected, unable to keep the comment to herself.

He lowered his voice and leaned in,“ See what I mean? But you? Nah, you’re just fine.”

She finally looked up and held his eyes,“ Fine?”

And he smiled back at her, as bright and assured as he could manage,“ Yeah. Just fine. And even if you were a freak like me, you’d still be fine. I’d accept you into my beloved kingdom and show you that being a freak isn’t bad. It’s actually a whole lot of fun. I know we’re still new to each other, but will you trust me on that much? As a freak speaking from experience on it?”

And she looked kind of like a weight had been lifted off of her. One she’s carried for so long with no idea how to understand. No idea how to get rid of or come to terms with.

But somehow, being told she was normal, even when it still didn’t quite fit… it felt better than all the times Mike called her his superhero.

She was different. No amount of “but it’s special” ever got rid of the feeling that there was something wrong with her. And for so long, she would’ve given anything not to be the way she was. And yet, here this guy was. This near stranger that told her he didn’t find her all that weird. That he didn’t find it impossible to look past the things the lab did to her.

It felt nice. To try and believe him for a minute. To pretend like “normal” would be an option after they shut the door on the Upside Down for good.

And maybe one day she’ll be able to believe she doesn’t need it anyway. Decide that normal was fine and all, but she can also be a freak and still be just as fine because she chose to enjoy it. Eddie seemed happy enough in it. Even handcuffed to a hospital bed and having just escaped death, he was still loving being a freak.

“Yeah,” she decided. She’d trust his advice. Why not? It felt way better than the alternative.

“Good,” he remarked before splaying his hand to view for himself,” And thank you for my bitchin’ claws, kid. I’m sure Little Red’s set’ll look great too.”

“Thanks…” she smiled a little wider, capping the black polish and setting it down on the table by the bright orange they’d brought for Max’s.

“Of course. Surprise, surprise, she’s good at more than just saving lives. Though I doubt I’ll ever really get over the fact that you saved mine, you know. You would not believe the hell I’d have tried to raise if I died before I got to see Ozzy live.”

“Ozzy?” she asked, tilting her head with the inquisition.

And if he weren’t laid up and chained in place, Eddie would’ve tried to fling himself to the floor with a gasp.

“Another person who doesn’t know about the one and only Ozzy? God- you people are killing me here!” he groaned and writhed in his bed for effect, pulling another giggle out of the girl at his side while the rest of the room playfully rolled their eyes at his antics.

“Wasn’t sure you’d show.” Police Chief Powell said as Jim pushed in what used to be his door.

At least, it had been until he went and got himself abducted, of course. Now it was Calvin’s. And he sat behind the desk wearing a face that Hopper probably guessed he’s worn before. Long nights, early mornings, shit getting kicked up faster than a town as small as theirs had any right to. He remembers being in that spot and feeling just as exhausted as Calvin looked.

He strode in with the confidence that said that office was still his in some way,” Said I would.”

“Yeah, but you always hated mornings at the station. Came in late as often as you could.” Powell pointed out.

Jim smiled and shook his head,“ You got me there. But I’m here, with coffee, as promised.”

He passed over the cheap paper cup. Took his seat in the chair opposite him while the man popped off the lid and shook out a few packets of sugar, definitely stolen from the break room and squirreled away in his desk drawer.

“Still got a sweet tooth?” he teased and sipped on his own cup, black and bitter.

The man raised an eyebrow at him while he stirred it around,“ You weren’t gone that long, you know.”

Jim had to give it to him,” Guess not. Not long enough for you to grow out of it, at least.”

They drank from their cups in a familiar, comfortable silence while Jim looked around the room. It was mostly the same. He’d never decorated much, so there wasn’t much to be taken down or changed. Same knots in all the wood grain. Same dents and scratches in the walls. Same scraps under the chair legs. New name on the nameplate, though. New man in the chair. New computer set up in front of him, big and clunky and off-white. Jesus Christ, Jim’s happy he involuntarily gave up the job before they’d made him regularly use one of those things, at least.

But, thinking of chiefly duties…

“Well, Cal, how’s it looking for the kid?” Jim brought up.

He looked at him for a second and asked, waving his cup to him,“ How do you even know Eddie Munson all that well? You’ve been gone for eight months, Jim. And while you were still here, we never busted him for the drugs.”

Jim settled back in the chair further and recounted,“ I told him to quit it a time or two, but didn’t want to make a fuss on his record about it. Never caught him in the act, and only ever with a baggie of pot on him.”

He took another sip and continued,“ But, besides that, I just want to see something done right by him. By this whole mess, I’ve heard about. I can’t explain how I know that what all the kids are saying is the truth. That he’s innocent. But I just do. Would stake my life on it. He didn’t do anything to the girl or those boys.”

Powell almost nodded to the fact, given what they’d been working on uncovering over the last few days,“ Well, we’ve been investigating the case based on their testimonies…”

He let his words trail off, but Hop was impatient for some good news.

“And?”

Powell met his eyes, and with a tone of near-disbelief, he admitted,“ We haven’t found a single shred of evidence to suggest they’re lying about it. Nothing beyond the locations of the murders speaks to Eddie having had anything to do with it. And while the kids could’ve had time to coordinate their stories with each other, the others we’ve interviewed couldn't have. And with the background we’ve dug up on the victims… The claim that this was all a huge mess perpetrated by Jason Carver as he kept digging himself a deeper hole to cover his tracks… it’s the more plausible theory between the two. Way more than the idea that Eddie just went crazy all of a sudden and convinced so many people to cover for him this well.”

“So you’re saying…?”

“We can’t charge a dead man with the crimes. Can’t detain him and interrogate him while we look for more evidence.” Powell pointed out, regretfully,” But we can drop Eddie from the suspect list. Take the cuffs off him, make an announcement, and turn him loose.”

“That’s good news, Cal. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Better than sending him to the clink for something he didn’t do just to satisfy this town’s thirst for blood.”

“Aint that the truth.”

There was almost time for another silence to fall around them. But Calvin had a question to pose before it settled very long.

“So, what’ll you do now that you’re back?”

And it probably should’ve been a scary question. The prospect of the unknown. A whole slew of decisions to make now that his life’s been so completely thrown off-track. He probably should’ve already had some idea of a plan in place for what he’d return to without the walls of a Soviet prison making all the choices for him.

“I have no clue.” he honestly answered instead.

“What? Don’t want to get rehired back here at the station?”

“And do this grunt work?” They shared a hearty chuckle that spoke to all their years of complaining about both having not enough and way too much to do before he explained,” Nah. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I think I’m tired of trying to make this whole damn town my responsibility.”

“You think you already have enough of it with that kid of yours?”

Fondness crept its way into his face,“ Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“How did that even happen? I feel like I had no clue you were even looking to adopt, much less had a kid already when you died and she was moving away with Joyce.”

“That’s a crazy story, Cal. Crazier than the shit that’s gone on here in recent days, I swear. But, uh, she’s mine. And she means everything to me. And I don’t want to do anything except be a good dad for her now. A job just seems like a waste of precious time.”

Powell brought his hands together and wistfully sighed,“ I hear ya…”

“What? Chief ain't treating you right? Wasn’t all it cracked up to be?”

“Don’t you make it sound like I’m whining about it. Wasn’t too much more to deal with until all this shit hit the fan. But this shit has been…”

“Hell on earth?” Jim supplied.

“Exactly. Slept either here or in the cruiser more nights than I did at home. I think the Missus is just about ready to march in here and drag me back into the cold side of the bed I left her with.”

Jim’s eyes snapped to his with more attention,“ Missus? So you and Wendy?”

“Finally tied the knot,” he pulled back his hand to reveal the wedding band on his left ring finger that he’d been twisting.

“Wow, been waiting on you to do it, what, six years now? And you up and decide to commit while I’m gone.”

“I ‘up and decided to commit’ because you were gone. Seeing you here one day and then just - poof - not anymore… Thought about taking up your badge and if the same thing happened to me… I was done wasting time.” Powell detailed the whole affair for the man who missed it,” So I bought the ring and proposed that same month. She spent forever on the phone, planning the whole thing out with her sister. Got married in December. Honeymooned over Christmas and New Year's.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was. And, in a way, I had you to thank.”

Jim shook his head at that,“ Nah, you woulda wisened up one of these days. With or without me.”

“Maybe. But why don’t you tell me when you’re going to wisen up.”

“What does that mean?”

“You think the whole you-and-Joyce thing is subtle?”

They shared another laugh before Jim conceded,” No, I guess it isn’t.”

“You gave her your kid, Jim! That’s nearly grounds for an engagement right there.”

“Don't start talking like that, or I’ll get ideas and scare her off, Cal. We haven’t even had a single date yet.”

He was a little taken aback,“ Didn’t you two…? Back in high school?”

“No. Never.” Hopper corrected him,” We just ran into each other a lot, hung out cutting class sometimes…”

Powell didn’t really look like he believed him, but he let it slide to check him,” But now you’ll get a move on?”

“I guess now I owe it to her to get a move on. Already made her wait eight months for a damn dinner.”

Cal whistled,” Oh yeah, sounds like you best get a move on.”

“How ‘bout you do the same?” He said while he got up,” I’m sure that the kid’d like to know he’s a free man as soon as possible. You promised me you wouldn’t drag your feet on this.”

Powell stood up with him,“ And I’m not. Just waiting for Flo to let me know the machine’s done spitting out the official report. Then I'll be headed out to get started on cleaning things up.”

Before Jim turned to leave, he asked,“ Could I ask you for another favor?”

“What do you want from me now?”

“Nancy Wheeler. She’d been writing up the story on what happened for the school newspaper. She’s the only one with the inside scoop, has both the Munsons talking to her, and the most in-depth coverage of both the during and after of the arrest.”

“That’s good for her.”

“It is.” He agreed,” And if her's got to be the first article announcing that the charges have been dropped, before even the tv crews do, it’d go a long way for her resume down the line."

“I’ll bet it would."

"Especially since she'll have to help spearhead women in investigative journalism in the first place.”

"I never did like the press... But you tell her she can stop by and get a quote. As long as none of the other kids get in the way of it, she can get her story printed before morning news runs with it tomorrow.”

“I will. Thank you. Really. I’m happy to know the seat I left empty got filled by someone fit to sit in it.”

“God, what’d they do to you while you were gone?” Powell rounded the desk to stand next to him,” You’ve gone all sappy and soft in your time off.”

Jim bumped against his shoulder,“ Let’s just call it gettin’ old and leave it at that.”

“And see, I would've bet good money you’d be one of them crotchety things. Screaming from your front porch at everyone who dares pass by.”

“I woulda bet on it too. Now look at me.”

“It’s a good look on you. Enjoy it.”

Then, Flo burst through the doors, thumbing through freshly printed papers and eyeing them through her glasses instead of looking up,“ Your paperwork is all done, Chie- Jim? How are- When did you slip in?”

“Flo,” he greeted simply with a smile to the woman who practically kept that department running by being the biggest pain in his ass the entire time.

She tucked herself against his side in a quick hug, turns out working with someone for about eight years mean they miss you a little bit. Who would have guessed?

She held the papers into her chest and reached out to shove at his shoulder,“ I’m almost scared to ask if this is someone’s stupid idea of an April Fool’s joke.”

“It’s April first?” Jim asked, looking at the calendar on the wall that was fully crossed off but hadn’t been flipped to the new month yet.

“Sure is,” she confirmed while Powell took the hint to change it.

“Thanks for reminding me…” Jim thought of something for a minute,” I’ll be heading off. Was good catching up.”

With Eddie’s hands all painted, Argyle found himself the only one in the room without. He’d held out his hand for Erica and asked if she thought he’d look cute with shimmery pink nails like hers. Which made all of them laugh. But she said it didn’t exactly fit his vibe, so he then turned to all of the girls and was letting them debate what kind of color they’d put him in if they could. There were a few ideas of a mossy green, or a peachy orange, or maybe a daffodil yellow when Hop’s voice cracked through the walkie they’d perched on the windowsill of the hospital room.

“Hey, any rotten kids around?”

Robin leaned over and snatched it off the ledge,” Rotten kids one through five checking in. What’s the word on the construction for gallows in the town square?”

“Just spoke to Cal on how the case is looking,” was all he answered.

Robin took a look around the room with a stilted expression,“ And? What’d he say?”

There was no response.

“Hello? Requesting status on the conflict between Ex-Chief, Jim Hopper, and Current Chief, Calvin Powell?” she joked.

Hop’s voice came back in a low rumble,“ I’m real sorry, kid…”

All at once, Eddie felt his stomach plummet through the tile floor.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

They’d been joking around and having fun all morning… he forgot for a minute that things don’t always just turn out. They usually didn’t before he found out the world was ending, but his luck hadn’t been so bad recently. He cheated death and made some new friends, but it seemed the legal system was going to be a fouler beast to defeat.

Shit.

Jim continued,“ They’ve been digging through everything, but it’s just not enough to convince them…”

Robin shook her head as his voice faded out. She looked back up at the accused man and remained defiant,“ Don’t worry, Eddie. We- we can keep trying to figure this out. We’re not going to quit on you and we aren’t going to let them chuck you behind bars for the rest of your life. Okay? Well… We’ll put together a petition! Or gather a protest! Or- We have Nance’s paper she’s gonna publish! We’ll get people on your side and figure something out. We won’t give up on-”

But the radio cut right through her,“ I just can’t get ‘em to put you in prison stripes.”

And everything stopped.

Eddie's heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped breathing, the whole fucking Earth stopped spinning under him.

“Wait-” Robin asked herself before remembering to pull the walkie up to her face and click the button,“ What?”

The next time Hopper’s voice came through, they could hear the grin he was trying to fight back,“ He’s on his way down now to tell you officially, but the Hawkins Police Department is dropping the charges. Congratulations. You buncha deviants did a good job showin’ ‘em all what’s what.”

“Are you kidding?!” Eddie’s voice rang through the room, Robin having clicked down the button in time for Jim to catch most of it.

“What? Nobody’s ever heard of an April Fool’s joke?” he asked.

“Most April Fool’s jokes aren’t supposed to make the victim die of a heart attack!” the man yelled, voice rising in pitch.

“He’s still breathing ain’t he?”

“Oh my god- as if that even makes it okay to tell a guy he’s going to be prosecuted for like a hundred murders-”

“It would’ve been three, maybe four, and an assault at most, Eddie,” Robin tried to remind him, setting down and forgetting the walkie on the table.

“They would’ve sentenced me to like a hundred years, Robin!” he argued back.

“I just told you we would’ve figured it out-”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So, he’ll be fine.” Jim assumably answered the silence he received.

El took the walkie herself to tell him,” Was still a mean joke.”

“You kids need to lighten up. Yeesh. Nobody around here knows how to have any fun anymore.”

Eddie’s room filled up after that. Nancy, Steve, Mike, and Will arrive shortly after, just barely beating Chief Powell. He went over all the news with Eddie and the officer there. They undo his cuffs and explain that he won’t even have a misdemeanor for the drug distribution he admitted to at the end of the day. And since Nancy was right there, she got his statement and would get to send out her papers before the news channels ran an official announcement. If he faced any harassment despite it, though, the Hawkins Police department would help him out.

Then the rest of Hellfire showed up. Dustin and Lucas, along with Jeff, Gareth, Bruce, and Josie. Those four were particularly relieved to see him okay after everything. Not having received any update between Jason’s “Where’s Eddie?” interrogation and “Eddie Munson; Prime Suspect” and “Eddie’s in the hospital” they got from the boys that same morning. They were just saying their hellos when a nurse came in and tried to show them out.

“Awe, but we were celebrating,” Dustin complained to her.

She just looked down at him and hummed,“ Well, I’m sure Mr. Munson would prefer that we checked over everything privately. Like getting that catheter removed. Am I correct?”

Eddie didn’t hesitate to erupt with a pointed finger towards the door,“ Everybody, get the fuck out! Now!”

They got him taken care of and returned his things, but kept him in the hospital gown and hooked up to the IV.

They weren’t letting him out just yet. Turned out that when you nearly die of blood loss, the medical community likes to hold on to you. Make sure the wounds start healing over well, and there wouldn't be any deficits before the guy could start strolling about town. Who knew.

They decided to keep him until the end of the week, just to be safe.

In any news, they let his friends back in to annoy him. And, if Max’s mother signed some moving paperwork, she’d get wheeled into his room to share the rest of his stay with her the next morning. Hellfire made plans to camp out with him sometime and hold a one-shot around his bedside. Even roped newly returned Will Byers in agreeing to play, even though he didn’t know the rest of the club and was a little nervous.

When four o’clock hit, his uncle arrived and pulled him out of the bed for a real hug after the room emptied out.

Everyone else scampered off home, save for Robin, Nancy, and Steve.

They went to the school and used Nancy’s key to the newsroom to format her release and get Steve’s story for it. He sat on the light table while Robin threw questions at him. And they argued about how exactly he should word his answers the whole time Nancy typed away at the computer. They were crammed together working on it for a few hours, easily. And then they gathered up by the printer and folded hundreds of copies of the account. Using the school’s dime and credentials to get the news out as quickly as possible with at least a little reliability.

They were filling up milk crates from the cafeteria with stacks of them and loading them up into the Surfer Boy Pizza van when Jonathan and Argyle stopped by. The pair ran them around town and packed them into the newspaper boxes, even though technically they weren’t supposed to. Steve and Robin ran a few of them around the homes of people they knew were in a lot of the local groups and communities and would spread the word the fastest, and to Eddie’s neighbors. Those of them that were still at the trailer park.

Nancy dropped off copies in the mailboxes of some of the businesses for them to see first thing in the morning: the Hawkins’ Post and local news station, particularly. And then she dropped off a bunch of enveloped ones at the post office like they had when they released the tape about Barb less than two years before. To correct the brigade they’d been running with over the last week.

By the time the sun came back up, it should be on a world that believed Eddie was innocent. Or at least could be convinced of it soon.

As they were finishing up their rounds and headed back towards Robin’s house for drop-off, Steve stopped by his mailbox. He’d forgotten to for the last few days, and when they were about to pass it by, he figured he should grab anything while he was thinking about it before he came back later and forgot again.

There was a little bit that built up. Nearly all of it was addressed to his parents. But there was one letter with Steve’s name on it. Sent from the Family Video Headquarters in Glenview, Illinois.

“What…?” he mumbled to himself when he saw it.

“Come on, Steve,” Robin called from the rolled-down window,” Let’s get me home, so my parents don’t try to find new reasons to disapprove of our treasured friendship.”

“Just a second.”

Steve tore open the envelope right there, standing outside by his mailbox with the others tucked under his arm. When he pulled out the papers inside, they certainly held a surprise of a completely different kind. Not the stuff he got surprised with earlier that week. Not supernatural, end of days stuff. Instead, the mail spoke of incredibly mundane, and yet totally shocking stuff.

“Holy shit…”

Robin perked up at his expression while he read the paper“ Steve? What is it?”

He didn’t even look up for the paper when he quietly sputtered,“ I’m the manager…”

“What?” Robin knocked her head to the side and opened the door. Stepping out onto the street and rounding the car to join him.

“I-” he tried to start, then switched gears and looked at her,” Keith skipped town. So did half the staff. It’s just you, me, and Alex left in Hawkins now. Family Video sent the letter to me because I’m older and have the most hours on the schedule. They can’t convince anyone else to move out here to take over the building since Hawkins is so cursed in the public eye. So I- I’m the manager now.”

Her eyes fell to the paper, and she parroted his first thought,“ Holy shit…”

“We’re supposed to re-open on Friday and try to get things back in business.”

After… everything… that was so out of left field.

“April Fools?” Robin tried.

“They sent over the rest of the keys and instructions…“ Steve separated the open letter from the stapled packet behind it and held up the three new keys he had. For the office door, locked filing cabinet, and emergency exit.

“So, not April Fools…” Robin looked at the official paperwork and reminded him,” Steve. You don’t know how to run a store.”

Which, yes, was true. Steve did not know how to run a store. But the thing was that Steve and Robin never did any work truly on their own. So he looked back up at her and emphasized how absolutely tied together they were in it.

“We don’t know how to run a store.” he corrected.

“We don’t know how to run a store.” she agreed.

“We’ll have to figure it out…”

#YAY! Eddie's innocence is confirmed! Once the town hears of it that'll probably be the last time we really mention it.#It's done and taken care of - let's move on hm?#And the El focus on this chapter is something to very dear to my heart #As an autistic I have always felt 'off' or like people thought I was off #And when people would declare 'let your freak flag fly' 'take pride in your uniqueness' 'be yourself unapologetically'...#It didn't really mean anything to me because it just felt cliche and like something people say but don't really mean #But actually finding space where I don't feel out of place - where people didn't make me see the 'otherness' - that actually helped #Which is what I think El is looking for #Not someone to tell her she's amazing for not being normal. Someone who doesn't let her feel so not normal.#And we're making Steve a manager!#I haven't really seen anyone explore this idea yet - we always keep Keith around as an unseen background element.#But there are so many things that make Steve a good worker and ideally a good manager #So we're promoting him!#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things 4 spoilers #Stranger Things 4 volume 2 spoilers

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sevikae · 11 months

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No you don't understand I need to consume everything about peridot

#peridot #I love getting into something new & finding a whole bunch of juicy unseen content #gimmie gimmie

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diluc33rpm · 1 year

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1/2 Do you believe in magic? Are you superstitious?

if magic isn't real how do you explain his holy presence

#the concept of magic yeah sure #always been interested in just how people came up with that. no matter where you find it the base idea seems to be 'a force unseen'#and i'd say on some level that does exist- but at least for me #it's more in the form of when you're sitting outside on a roof at night #or in the rain hearing music and atmosphere leaking out of nearby buildings #or seeing a craftsman putting the finishing touches on their art #or meeting eyes with an animal in an unlikely place for just a second before it disappears #or looking up at the sky and thinking. huh. that's pretty fucking big isn't it. goes pretty far. wonder who got the idea to go to the moon #at the risk of sounding overly trite. it's just a nameless something #superstitious on the other hand i wouldn't reeeaallly say so #but maybe at least a little? i have ocd you gotta cut me some slack 💀#weirdest one i have is blinking a certain amount of times when i wanna replace a thought #but that's less on the Poetic And Ethereal side so much as it is disruptive and mildly irritating. oh well

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lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar · 2 years

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i’ll probably never be fully at peace until i have the full episode of last chance lottery where bruce was in his oversized leopard suit singing delilah in 1997

#me #i love that that's even a thing that happened #you can't even make something like that up #but anyway i want the other parts of the show aside from the delilah performance #i want the unseen bits #i want everything that has anything to do with bruce #I JUST TRIED SEARCHING FOR IT AGAIN BEFORE POSTING THIS AND I DIDN'T IFND IT BUT I FOUND SOMETHING ELSE WITH HIM I'VE NEVER SEEN AND I AM #SO HAPPY ABOUT EVERYTHING #i still want the full episode of last chance lottery but I'LL TAKE THIS INSTEAD AT THE MOMENT #I LOVE SEARCHING FOR THINGS AND ACCIDENTALLY FINDING OTHER THINGS THAT I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED

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skyjynxart · 22 days

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#hmmmm #vent cw #dont read this #no seriously i warned you im being a whiney piece of shit #I should probably be worried about the 3-day long panic attack ive had going on #the physical symptoms really are rhe works- the swimming vision the dizziness the tight chest feeling that is uniquely 'anxiety'#and then you add the inability to think for more than like 5 minutes about any given topic #the stress to the point of wanting to cry when things go slightly wrong #but ironically i cant seem to summon any actual anxiety about the anxiety #juat a blank numbness there #really do need it to stop tho as i think its destroying what little appeal as a human i had left at this point #and its seriously hampering my ability to get work done #which i absolutely need to be doing bc if i dont finish my work i cant take on more work #and if i dont take on more work i will officially no longer be paying my bills next month #'sky this seems like talk for a therapist not hidden tags on the tumblr dash' yeah I dont think sitting on this for a month will work #'talk to a friend about it then' hahaha no at least here anyone who reads this fuckin chose to #putting up with me normally is a big ask putting up with me when im needy & anxious & breaking down bc its Too Fucking Much?#lmfao hell no i like my friendship INTACT thanks #a bitch is not about to be a drain on emotional resources when said bitch cannot contribute fuckall of value thats how you make it all worse #and then a month later the therapist cancels so i just keep adding tags to this post bc no one will read them #but i feel like im “talking to someone”#the panic attacks stopped but i have no idea why #i mean im still feeling unusually heightened anxiety 24/7 but its not causing physical symptoms #not like it was anyway #and at least now being anxious makes sense #its a bunch of small to medium shit id probably feel better about if i talked more #but the less i talk and just observe people from a distance unseen the happier people i care about seem so #im literally a fifth wheel so the least i can do is not squeak and alert others to my presence #i really need to get better at art and get faster at working so i can have SOMETHING to offer #oh wow theres a tag limit apparently guess i have to find a new method bc making a new post is begging for attention & I don't wanna do that

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flovverworks · 1 month

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sorry i got overwhelmed with love for akira again

#stardust speaking !#they gave us one(1) anime headshot thats basically just the ingame one in the anime style #and im daydreaming #ITS DIRE OUT HEREEEEEEEEEE #also if we dont get animated canaria i Will be crying #sometimes i think of lesbian akira meeting canaria. falling in lov. abd then immediadetly finding out shes engaged #to a guy whos also named after a bird #the comedy for ME #i love akira. i love heartfelt akira whos a loser and keeps messing up in this new place and tastes the rain falling #'sage what r u doing we dont know if this rain is safe or not?!?' 'huh?!?!?!?!' JSJSJWJQKQKKWT.........AKIRA VS THE UNSEEN DANGERS #but also akira who DOES do cool stuff. akira who is scared and shaking but still shields owen when hes out of commission #against a UNICORN......(owen ends up doing the protecting but ykno). akira whos life is threathened but still #continues to speak to their wizards. akira who picks up shinos scythe to keep them safe #THEYRE SSOOOOOOOO scared and awkward but they do what they can #way more skilled at saying very sweet things and speaking from their heart. despite struggling with words when comforting ppl #theyre so charmy.................i lov akira............i lov both designs for akira......................give me an expression sheet for #anime akira NOW❗❗❗❗❗#im so excoted i desperately hope they capture the loser and the otome-route side of them #akira & cains back & forth stunning e/o with something smooth the other said is everything to me #i need that so bad #(its like always unintentional too!!! theyre both just speaking from their heart!!!!!!!!!!!#also rly need akira freaking out over how prettt everyone is. i NEED the 'are all of them models or something wtf' in there #guy who spends like 5 sentences in a row describing someone as handsome

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contact-guy · 5 months

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I was seized with a fervor and could not rest until I illustrated one of my favorite scenes from Sherlock Holmes: the Adventure of the Devil's Foot. While Holmes and Watson take a holiday in the Cornish countryside for Holmes's health, multiple people in the nearby village are found driven mad or dead from horror. Holmes deduces a substance that was burned in their presence is to blame. With a bit of the mysterious powder and a gas lamp in hand, he proposes an experiment to Watson...

content warning for drug use!

I'm not sure if it's supported by the canon but in my mind this is the first time Holmes ever apologies to Watson and he is so overcome with emotion that he immediately makes it weird

Text under the cut:

"It is not for me, my dear Watson, to stand in the way of the official police force. I leave them all the evidence which I found. The poison still remained upon the talc had they the wit to find it. Now, Watson, we will light our lamp; we will, however, take the precaution to open our window to avoid the premature decease of two deserving members of society, and you will seat yourself near that open window in an armchair unless, like a sensible man, you determine to have nothing to do with the affair. Oh, you will see it out, will you? I thought I knew my Watson. This chair I will place opposite yours, so that we may be the same distance from the poison and face to face. The door we will leave ajar. Each is now in a position to watch the other and to bring the experiment to an end should the symptoms seem alarming. Is that all clear? Well, then, I take our powder--or what remains of it--from the envelope, and I lay it above the burning lamp. So! Now, Watson, let us sit down and await developments."

They were not long in coming. I had hardly settled in my chair before I was conscious of a thick, musky odour, subtle and nauseous. At the very first whiff of it my brain and my imagination were beyond all control. A thick, black cloud swirled before my eyes, and my mind told me that in this cloud, unseen as yet, but about to spring out upon my appalled senses, lurked all that was vaguely horrible, all that was monstrous and inconceivably wicked in the universe. Vague shapes swirled and swam amid the dark cloud-bank, each a menace and a warning of something coming, the advent of some unspeakable dweller upon the threshold, whose very shadow would blast my soul. A freezing horror took possession of me. I felt that my hair was rising, that my eyes were protruding, that my mouth was opened, and my tongue like leather. The turmoil within my brain was such that something must surely snap. I tried to scream and was vaguely aware of some hoarse croak which was my own voice, but distant and detached from myself. At the same moment, in some effort of escape, I broke through that cloud of despair and had a glimpse of Holmes's face, white, rigid, and drawn with horror--the very look which I had seen upon the features of the dead. It was that vision which gave me an instant of sanity and of strength. I dashed from my chair, threw my arms round Holmes, and together we lurched through the door, and an instant afterwards had thrown ourselves down upon the grass plot and were lying side by side, conscious only of the glorious sunshine which was bursting its way through the hellish cloud of terror which had girt us in. Slowly it rose from our souls like the mists from a landscape until peace and reason had returned, and we were sitting upon the grass, wiping our clammy foreheads, and looking with apprehension at each other to mark the last traces of that terrific experience which we had undergone.

"Upon my word, Watson!" said Holmes at last with an unsteady voice, "I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment even for one's self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very sorry."

"You know," I answered with some emotion, for I have never seen so much of Holmes's heart before, "that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you."

He relapsed at once into the half-humorous, half-cynical vein which was his habitual attitude to those about him. "It would be superfluous to drive us mad, my dear Watson," said he. "A candid observer would certainly declare that we were so already before we embarked upon so wild an experiment. I confess that I never imagined that the effect could be so sudden and so severe." He dashed into the cottage, and, reappearing with the burning lamp held at full arm's length, he threw it among a bank of brambles. "We must give the room a little time to clear. I take it, Watson, that you have no longer a shadow of a doubt as to how these tragedies were produced?"

#it's another love confession #sherlock holmes #john watson #acd holmes #acd canon #long post #my art

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saraswritingtipps · 10 days

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Some tips on the do’s and don’ts of adding more description to your Writing

Do‘s:

Make your writing come alive by describing things that appeal to the senses. Instead of saying "It was a beautiful garden," you could say "The garden was filled with the scent of fresh roses, the sound of buzzing bees, and the vibrant colors of blooming flowers."

Instead of just saying what something is like, show it through your words. For instance, instead of saying "She was sad," you could describe her actions and surroundings to show her sadness: "Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared out the rain-streaked window, clutching a crumpled tissue in her hand."

Instead of using general words, get specific. Instead of saying "He drove a car," you could say "He drove a sleek, black convertible, the wind tousling his hair as he sped down the open highway."

Keep your writing interesting by mixing up short and long sentences. Don't always write in the same way. For example, "The sky was dark. The trees swayed in the wind. It felt eerie," could be improved by adding variety: "Dark clouds gathered overhead, causing the trees to sway ominously in the gusting wind, casting an eerie feeling over the landscape."

Use your descriptions to set the mood of your story. Instead of just saying "It was a scary place," describe the setting to evoke fear in your readers: "The abandoned house loomed in the moonlight, its broken windows and creaking doors whispering of unseen terrors lurking within."

Don't just drop descriptions randomly into your writing. Make sure they fit naturally into the flow of your story. Instead of stopping the action to describe something, weave it into the narrative: "As she ran through the forest, the branches clawed at her skin, leaving scratches like whispers of the dangers lurking in the shadows."

While descriptions are important, don't forget to keep your story moving forward. Don't spend too much time describing things at the expense of the action. Find a balance between describing the scene and keeping the plot moving.

Don't:

Using too many adjectives can make your writing sound cluttered and overwhelming. Stick to the essentials and choose your words carefully.

Don't forget that dialogue and interactions between characters are key parts of your story. Use them to reveal personality and move the plot forward.

Don't repeat yourself. Once you've described something, trust your readers to remember it. Don't keep saying the same thing over and over again.

Sometimes, what you don't say can be just as important as what you do say. Let your readers read between the lines and draw their own conclusions.

Avoid using tired old phrases that everyone has heard before. Try to come up with fresh, original descriptions that will grab your readers' attention.

Be mindful of the pace of your story. Don't slow things down with long descriptions in the middle of an action scene. Save the detailed descriptions for quieter moments when the pace naturally slows down.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #writing advice #oc character #writing help #creative writing #writing block #bad writing #writer stuff

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utterlyazriel · 5 months

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the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

#i'm so on the fence on whether i like this one ! >.<#but i do think he would be sooooo foolish once he got jealous #esp if u were nearly a thing but not quite #and i do think he wouldn't have a kiss. just a handhold #when u two finally come together :")#azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger x you #acotar

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mariasont · 21 days

Text

Spoiled - A.H

a/n: felt feral writing this hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did

think im ovulating or something YALL IDK

anyhow happy reading let me know what yall think 🤭

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

warnings: 18+ MDNI, phone sex!, sex toy!, fem solo masturbation, penelope being a little instigator lmao, dirty talk, soft dom!hotch, established relationship, honestly a little bit of angst whoops, reader is slightly dramatic like hotch has been gone for prob 5 hours STAND UP!

wc: 3.3k

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her comment earned her the full government name, igniting a burst of laughter that you attempt to smother behind your hand. Sinking deeper into the couch, you dismiss the absurdity with a shake of your head. You even find yourself glancing over your shoulder even though you know no one is home.

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but trust me, that's the least of our worries in this relationship."

"Look, whatever floats your love boat or rocks your bed frame is strictly your business," she comments as if that were the most casual thing to say.

You giggle, a warmth spreading through you as you tread across the kitchen tiles, the phone pressed against your ear.

"Oh my god, Pen," you let out a laugh, feeling a soft crimson spread across your cheeks, while your thighs swell with the thoughts of your doting boyfriend. "No, no, like I said we're more than okay in that department. It just gets, well, lonely when he's away."

Your hand curls around the neck of your favorite bottle of red, easing the cork free with a satisfying pop. The liquid swirls into the glass, a little more than probably necessary, as the gentle hiss of water beginning to simmer breaks through the kitchen.

"You, my dear, are a saint among mortals."

"Well, he makes it easy," you shrug, pouring the rice into the bubbling pot, a cloud of steam rising to paint the windows.

"Honestly, I don't know how you manage. I'd be itching for it, especially if it's as good as you say," Penelope admits with a dramatic sigh.

You laugh, propping the phone against the backsplash, its speaker projecting the conversation into the room. Aaron stands just out of sight, unnoticed, taking in your every syllable.

"When he gets back, trust me, every second apart seems like a small price to pay."

"Ever thought about getting yourself a toy? You know, for those long nights?" Penelope hints not (at all) so slyly.

The wine almost sprays from your mouth as you stifle a surprised splutter. Aaron, still unseen, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no, I haven't really considered... a toy," you murmur, cheeks burning. You clear your throat, pretending to be engrossed in the simmering pot. "Aaron might have an opinion on that, I guess."

Your attempt at nonchalance was failing, you definitely knew that.

Aaron rested casually against the door frame, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of your bashful laughter. He'd always had a soft spot for the way your cheeks bloom with color--a sight he wasn't afraid to go great lengths to witness. The idea of a toy seemed to pique his curiosity, drawing a pensive frown as his attention stayed fixed on you for a moment longer.

He slips away silently, his steps carrying him to the front door as you continue your conversation with Penelope.

The call disconnects with a soft click, and you're left in the quiet of the kitchen, unwittingly promising to keep Penelope updated. Turning back to the stove, you stir the sauce with a distracted hand, your lips downturned. Aaron should have been home by now.

The dining table is set, candles flickering, their glow falling on the chair he's yet to fill. You let out a sigh, stealing another look at the ticking clock. The food is ready, but with each passing minute, it grows cooler, just the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment settling in your chest.

The audible twist of the key catches your attention, and you can't help but glance over your shoulder. Aaron walks in, his lips curving into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hi, my gorgeous girl," he greets, his voice a familiar sound that kindles a familiar flutter into your heart.

He places his briefcase down, the sound muted, and as he approaches, his lips brush a tender kiss against your temple. The annoyance that had been bubbling inside you melts away with his touch. Damn him.

You turn to him, a sheepish "Hi" fluttering out, your cheeks tinged with heat. It's a feeling that's always fresh, the way he still makes you feel like you're back in high school, hearts doodled in the margins of your notebook.

Aaron settles into his chair, the soft scrape of wood against the tile following his movements.

"Sorry 'M late," he offers, his tone warm, appreciative. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. Thank you."

His fingers gently sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his smile softening you, disarming you. He's so beautiful.

"You're welcome," you reply, your cheeks growing warmer with each word. "And, um, I hope it's okay. It might be a bit cold. I thought...I guess I assumed you'd be home sooner."

You voice trails off, leaving behind a trail of embarrassed concern, wondering if perhaps you'd somehow overstepped.

Aaron looks at you, his eyes turning kind as he discerns the unease on your face.

"I'm sorry, baby, got held up with a little errand." He bites into the food, and a gratified hum indicates his approval. "This is delicious."

You find yourself beaming at the praise. He had a talent for that--praising you, almost as if he'd made it his life mission. This was a first for you in a relationship, and it's exactly why the late nights and time spent alone didn't weigh so heavily.

After dinner, you're rinsing off the plates when Aaron's hands draw you close, his hands claiming your waist, the heat of his palms radiating through the fabric of your shirt. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Let me help with that. You're spoiling me," he insists, his words spoken into your damp skin.

You lean back into his embrace, his chest flush against your back.

"I like taking care of you," you admit, heart skipping a beat under the weight of his gaze, the softness in his eyes dissolving your concentration on the task at hand.

A deep, affectionate groan escapes Aaron as he pulls you even closer. But all good things come to an end, and the ringing of his phone seems like an icy intrusion, like a sudden draft into the kitchen.

"Hotchner," he answers, and even though the word leaves his lips, his fingers gently sketch patterns across your hip.

You feel your heart sink. When he hangs up, his eyes lock with yours, brimming with an apology he doesn't voice. It's unnecessary, you already know.

"A case?" You hate how small your voice sounds, dipped in an understanding you wish you didn't have.

He nods, a simple stupid gesture that sends a lump of disappointment soaring up your throat, which you desperately try to swallow down.

"Okay... just, be careful, okay? I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, angel. Be good for me."

There's a hollowness in the house that follows you through each room. You were well aware of Aaron's demanding job when you started dating--the unpredictable schedule, the sudden departures, the cases that required his immediate attention. Still, this awareness did nothing to soften to sting of his absence. At all.

You found yourself wandering aimlessly, picking up a book only to set it down unread, starting a movie but not really watching. Eventually, you ended up in the bedroom, his bedroom, where the subtle scent of his cologne lingers. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching. God, you felt like you were being so dramatic.

You climb into the bed, the sheets cool against your skin, too big and empty without him. Your eyes darts to the phone resting on the nightstand. You've always been careful not to disturb him while he's working, but tonight felt different.

With a trembling hand, you pick up the phone, your thumb hovering indecisively over the screen. Reluctantly, you returned it to its place. There was no point in bothering him.

A sudden draft sent a shiver up your spine, reminding you of the blanket Hotch had bought for you a couple months ago. You sighed, rising from the bed and moving to the closet.

But your eyes skipped over the blanket, instead fixating on a shiny pink bag tucked away in a secluded corner. Compelled by a spike of curiosity, you grabbed the bag and pulled it open. Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a sudden flush as you placed it on the bed. How long had this been hiding here? And the timing--just after your conversation with Penelope--felt almost too uncanny.

You went back to your phone.

The message was simple. You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated--Aaron's name illuminated the screen. You answer, and his voice was there, infused with immediate concern.

"Hi honey. You okay?" His question was straightforward, cutting through the noise.

You nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see you. Shifting on the bed, you said softly, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to bother you. Is it a bad time?"

His response is quick. "You could never bother me."

A blush flares on your cheeks, and a smile instinctively forms. You fidget on the bed, the sheets sighing with your movements, sounds that don't escape Aaron's attentive detection.

"Can't seem to find the right spot without me there, huh?"

"I can't seem to do a lot of things without you here," you grumble under your breath, intended more for yourself than for him. The bed emits a soft creak as you turn again, your breath hitching in a pout that he can almost see through the phone. "Aaron, I found something in the closet..."

You lost your words, fingertips tracing the toy's edge, as you fumbled with the strings of your shorts.

"Hmm? Care to enlighten me."

"You know."

You weren't in the mood for his teasing, because you knew he knew. You could sense his smugness, his voice dripping into that familiar, velvety register that prompted your lips to purse.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Once again, you found yourself stirring against the linen, nibbling on your lip as a wave of exasperation washed over you, your eyes rolling into their sockets.

"Where are you?"

"Just got to my hotel room." You could hear the subtle movements in the background, accompanied by the soft groans of the mattress under his weight. "What did you find in the closet that was so urgent you needed to text me in the middle of my case?"

Your face was warm. "You said it wasn't a bother."

"And I meant it, now spell it out for me."

Your hands cautiously pushed over the toy, examining its buttons and sides. Subconsciously, your tongue swept over your top teeth. You lowered your voice as though someone else might overhear.

"The toy...is it for me? I mean, I would hope so. If not, well, we'd have a rather awkward issue."

"Yes, it's for you, baby."

You stifled a grin. How could he have known? That profiling business was really no joke.

"Why?"

His muffled chuckle filtered through, and you could almost see the flash of his pearly whites. You really missed him, so much so that you were conjuring vision of his mouth of his on places that should not be said aloud.

"I just want to make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not home." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You were deep in your fantasy now, your free hand sliding down your shorts as you envisioned him propped against the headboard of his hotel bed, tie hanging loosely, hair tousled just so.

"I'm always taken care of by you, Aaron," you said quietly.

You didn't know how to go about this, whatever this even was. You were treading into unknown territory; never having had phone sex with Aaron--or anyone for that matter. It was a far cry from the occasional suggestive text.

"That's right." His voice flowed like honey in your ear, causing a shiver as your finger skimmed over your underwear, your breathing momentarily faltering. "You're going to be well taken care of for the rest of your life, yeah?"

"Yeah."

You could hardly breathe, squirming against your own touch, glancing over at the toy that sat beside your hip.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience. You're a good girl, honey. Far too good for me." You weren't. It was the other way around; you didn't deserve him. You told yourself that every day. "I know you get lonely, and I know it's something you'd never admit to."

"Aaron..."

He didn't let you finish. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing right now?"

Your actions came to an abrupt standstill, thumb suspended above your clothed clit. You entertained the thought that this FBI gig might have been a front for a psychic, maybe one of those fortune teller types.

You were mumbling into your sleeve, a private conversation with the threads. "Just...um, well it's hardly worth mentioning, honestly."

Wow you're sure you fooled him.

"I'm not fond of dishonesty." The low rumble of his voice sent a tremor through your core. "I'm giving you a final chance. Tell me what you're doing, sweetheart."

A hard swallow passed your throat, your thumb rubbing idle circles into the band of flesh on your hip.

"Well, I, uh, was touching myself." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, an internal wince accompanying each syllable at how unsexy you were speaking.

"Where, sweetheart?"

You exhaled sharply at the question, heavy with exasperation at his insistence on drawing this out. But the slickness between your legs was undeniable. Your hand slid back to the delicate skin between your thighs.

"Aaron, please," you breathed out so faintly it was almost inaudible.

He was playing a cruel game, and he knew it. You hardly cussed let alone talk about your lady parts so openly.

"I hope I've never given you a reason to feel judged, honey." There was a sweetness in his voice that masked his darker intentions. "Just tell me where. I want to help."

Your tongue flicked nervously across your lip, your finger dipping into the valley of your folds as you mulled over his offer. You were wet, far more than you had anticipated, practically coating your thighs in the process.

"No, 'course not," you said softly, biting back a sigh as your thumb worked slowly against your inflamed clit. "It's just, you're so far, Aaron."

"Why do you think I got you that toy?" Your gaze darted to the pink thing, resting against your hip. "I want you to use it. I'll walk you through it, just like I would in person."

You could melt. You could liquefy into nothingness on the spot. Your fingers pressed more urgently against yourself, a deep-seated wish for him to be here surfacing, knowing all the while it was a baseless hope.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"There you go, that's my girl."

You couldn't hold back the whimper that fell from your lips as you arched against the bed, fingers diving into your cunt.

"My needy girl," he repeated, his laughter resonating with a patronizing tone that oddly egged you on. "Alright, can you pick up the toy for me?"

You wedged the phone snugly between your shoulder and ear, your hand closing around the pink, curved object, scrutinizing its every detail with careful eyes.

"Okay."

It was big, not as big as Aaron, but its dimensions were nonetheless imposing. You felt your chest heave in anticipation, waiting for his instructions.

His silence was stretching your patience thin. You turned it on, and it came to life, watching as it vibrated, the soft buzz permeating the space. You let it trail over your stomach, fabric gathering as your shirt rode up. Nearing your clit, you braced, taking in a quick breath.

But that breath was released in a strangled moan as you pushed the toy firmly into your sopping hole, legs spreading expansively as a taut sensation gripped your center.

"Did I say you could use it already?" he questioned, his tongue clicking in disapproval as you strained against the device, the second prong vibrations coursing against your nub, your whole-body jerking in response.

"N-No, 'M sorry," you panted, your focus narrowing as you pushed to toy in and out, your lips rounding into an 'o'. "It feels really good, Aar."

"I'm sure it does, baby," he teased, his voice carrying a certainty that your own lacked. "Let me hear you fuck yourself with it.

You loved hearing him curse, it was rare, and usually reserved for intimate moments like this. It fueled your actions, your wrist quickening, driving the device deeper, your stomach twisting in tight knots, a loud moan escaping unrestrained, suddenly you were thankful for the distance between Aaron's house and the next.

It felt so good, and yet somehow still not comparable to how it was with Aaron. Weren't you spoiled?

"Miss you so much," you slurred, your movements stuttering as the device worked your body in ways you didn't know were possible.

"Miss you too, angel. You're doing so good."

"Can you, ah, come home, p-please?"

You weren't even sure of what you were saying, all your thoughts on chasing your high and pretending the toy was Aaron's cock. Thinking about how he'd fill you up right now, how he'd press you to the mattress, how his body would cover yours.

"Your present isn't enough?" His tone was taunting, your eyes welling with tears, clouding your vision as your hips bucked against the toy. "That's a shame, sweetheart, think maybe you've been a little spoiled. You can't have my cock all the time."

You were completely dazed, his sentences barely making their way through the fog as you'd like them to. You were crying, you think, hot and relentless tears carving a path down your face as you fucked yourself harder against the toy.

The noises coming from your pussy were obscene, soaked and squishing as you tried to respond to Aaron, but nothing but small hiccups were escaping your mouth.

"It's okay, baby, I know. You're doing so good for me. I can hear it."

Your cheeks and ears flared with a heat that spelled out your shame, but it was the least of your concerns. Your walls tightened against the device, the pressure on your clit suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. Gasping for air, your breaths came out in uneven bursts. When you tried to call out Aaron's name, it emerged as nothing more than a choked sob.

"C-Can I? Please, need to so bad." You weren't entirely convinced you were speaking English, but Aaron understood.

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

That was all you needed. Your cunt contracted again before vaulting over the edge, nearly losing consciousness in the process, a string of moans and half-said words pouring out of your lips.

You could hear the sound of his voice, but the words were just out of reach, not fully making sense. You felt your body twitch, and you blinked deliberately, once, twice, three times, in an effort to reconnect your body to your mind.

"You're so good, baby. So good. Miss you so much."

You pulled the toy, now soaked, from yourself, cringing at the lewd sound as you laid it beside you, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. Although if Aaron had his way that wouldn't happen.

"I miss you." You hated the way your voice betrayed ever emotion you had.

"Need you to go pee for me, sweetheart."

He sounded so soft and tired, but somehow still present. You let out a soft snicker as you curled onto your side.

"Can't move my legs," you mumbled, the sound muffled by the way your cheek was squished into the pillow. "Need you to come carry me."

His laugh was something you wished you could bottle up. "Spoiled."

"And who's to blame for that?" You were ready for his witty retort, but it was cut short by the sudden flash of your phone. You squinted at the caller ID. "Sorry, Penelope is calling me, can I call you back in a second?"

"Course, honey. Thank her for the idea, yeah?" Your mouth fell open as you scrambled for the right words. Of course he had heard. "Also, I plan on spending a few solid hours fucking you when I get home, so I suggest you get some rest."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #criminal minds smut #hotch smut #hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #Spotify

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hazelfoureyes · 3 months

Text

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more.

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly.

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker.

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you.

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder.

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest, hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you.

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission.

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises.

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest.

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin.

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants.

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.”

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men.

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek.

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible.

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft. He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself.

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.”

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it.

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms.

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands.

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time–

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself.

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again.

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips.

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm.

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you.

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls.

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci.

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it.

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn.

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway.

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon.

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe.

What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths.

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead.

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt.

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected.

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper.

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more.

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back.

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning.

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you.

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

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