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kuroopaisen · 4 years

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tiny love || ii

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. but is it worth the complications it could cause?

warnings: f!reader, mentions of depression/implied depiction of depression

wc: 2.9k

m.list | ch. 1 ↞ ch. 2 ↠ ch. 3

last time...

He leant in, pressing his lips against yours softly. You froze, every nerve in your body now on high alert.

Iwaizumi Hajime? Kissing you? No way. No. Better yet, your first kiss? You had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening.

And yet the burning of your cheeks, the swelling of your heart, the feeling of his lips pressed against yours all said otherwise. This was happening.

✧ ✧ ✧

You’d half-convinced yourself that it was all a dream. There was no way Hajime had kissed you last night. No way he’d looked at you like that – like you were the most delightful thing he’d ever seen.

It sounded far too good to be true.

But the smile he’d given you in the morning told you otherwise.

It was so gentle, so honest. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve only caught a few times before, and each time he knew you could see it, he had always looked away.

But this morning was different. Because last night had been different.

Because he’d kissed you.

The two of you were in the kitchen, Iwaizumi with a cup of milk in hand and you empty-handed. You had intended to come and get yourself some breakfast, but you weren’t sure if you could stomach it now. Not with all these butterflies crashing around in there.

You hadn’t even said anything to each other – just looking at him was enough to make you feel like you were going to melt into a useless puddle.

He nodded to the kitchen counter. You followed his gaze to a mug, the string and tag of a tea bag dangling over the side. One look at the tag and you knew it was your favourite.

Oh. He remembered. You weren’t even sure if you’d told him that detail, but he’d paid enough attention regardless.

You bit the inside of your cheek, casting your eyes to the ground.

Come on, you thought, at least say thank you. You’ve spoken to him plenty of times before. If anything, you should be less nervous now – he’d kissed you. Kissed you! That meant that he must like you a little bit, right?

Your heart bloomed in your chest, spreading a feeling like static throughout your body. At the very least, you could say good morning. And you knew – you just knew – that he would smile at you again. That’s enough motivation.

You took a deep breath, finally lifting your eyes back up.

“Are you alright?” Tooru’s voice popped your bubble. He was standing just to your left, bread bun in hand and cheeks puffy like a squirrel’s.

“Hm?” You tried to pay him no attention; you absolutely didn’t want to give Tooru a reason to tease.

“You look sick.”

Of course. You shot him a glare, the dreamy look on your face morphing into a scowl. “Oh, thanks?”

“What?” Tooru whined, mouth full of bread.

“You’re being rude.”

Tooru scoffed, swallowing in one big gulp. “I am just a concerned brother, I don’t know why you’re demonizing me—”

You rolled your eyes, stalking over to the kettle.

Chances were a conversation with Hajime was likely out of the question, at least for today. You didn’t want to just announce this… thing between you to Tooru.

You’d just text him later.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Here,” he smiled, holding your boba out to you. He knew your favourite order like it was his own. That enough made your heart go wild.

“Thanks,” you blushed, letting your fingers brush against his as you took the cup from him.

You caught a glimpse of colour in Iwaizumi’s cheeks, and your heart fluttered.

He stabbed his straw into his boba and brought it to his lips.

He had such nice lips. They weren’t particularly big or striking, but they were nicely shaped. They complimented his face, balancing well with the rest of his features. And best of all, they were softer than—

You snapped your eyes away, heat flooding through your face.

God, you were embarrassing. This was embarrassing.

The two of you had already kissed. Why were you so damn awkward. Surely, you could hold his hand. That usually came before kissing for most couples. You might be working backwards, but that was okay, right?

“Hey, uh… Hajime?” Your throat was dry, your hands clammy.

“Hm?”

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. This was still harder than you’d given it credit for. Even if you had crossed other lines, this was still more exciting than it should be. “Can I hold your hand?”

There’s a moment of silence. A long silence.

Had you said something wrong? Was this moving too quickly? But he’d kissed you…

“Ah, that’s…” He said finally. You caught your breath. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Oh…” You tried to swallow down the weird little lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Not, uh…” He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not until we’ve told Oikawa.”

“Right,” you nodded. You fought the urge to shake off your disappointment, to stretch out the fuzziness in your hands.

You’d get there eventually, you told yourself. One of these days, you’d walk hand-in-hand with Iwaizumi Hajime, happy and giggly and open about your feelings.

You couldn’t wait for that day.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where’s Hajime?” You asked, juice box in hand and frown on your face.

“He said he needed to study this weekend,” Tooru yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

You did your best not to pout.

Other than your Tuesday walks, Friday was the only other opportunity each week to spend time with him without it being too obvious.

But he wasn’t there this Friday.

A little knot sat at the bottom of your stomach, small enough to be ignored, but heavy enough to give you pause.

You shook your head, frowning.

No, you were being silly. He was just busy this weekend – and perhaps you should be, too. There was no reason for you to be so worried.

Not when he’d given you no real reason to be.

✧ ✧ ✧

It’s been almost two weeks since he’d kissed you.

It’s been four days since he’d had a proper conversation with you.

On reflection, he had been a little weird on Thursday. His texts had been drier than usual – and he was already a pretty dry texter. Then, he hadn’t come over to your house on Friday like he usually did.

And then, he hadn’t texted you at all over the weekend.

That little knot in your stomach from Friday had gotten tighter, bigger, more demanding.

It’s like he was hiding you away. Some part of you – a part you very much wanted to throttle – feared that he was doing so because he was ashamed. That being seen with you would be embarrassing. Not that he’d given you any reason to think that, but the worry just wouldn’t shift.

The more logical part of your brain knew he was doing it so Tooru wouldn’t see you together. That alone is enough to root a deeper, more violent anxiety through your stomach.

But he had to walk you home today. You didn’t feel like he’d bail on that, at least.

To your relief, he was waiting for you at the school gate.

But as you made your way to the boba shop, he didn’t say much. He wasn’t the most talkative of people, but even this was quiet for him.

And when he was purchasing both your drinks, he made no comment about your financial ‘situation’. The most you could get out of him were some anecdotes from practice or what assignments and exams he had coming up.

And as you walked on, the stretches of silence grew longer. Usually, you wouldn’t mind them, but these days…

Hajime sighed, slowing to a stop. You shuttered to a stop after him, only just becoming aware of your surroundings.

To your left, the mountains. To your right, some rocks and a wall. In front of you, Hajime.

This was familiar. This spot, this boba, this afternoon.

But something was distinctly off. This wasn’t your typical outing to go look at the mountains. This was different.

You bit the inside of your cheek. So, he was of the same mind as you.

“So,” you sighed, sitting yourself down on the rocks. It was warm to the touch, likely from basking in the summer sun all afternoon. Hajime remained standing, his eyes trained on the mountains.

You didn’t know what you wanted to say. Hell, you didn’t even know what there was to say. Was this his way of telling you he wasn’t interested? Was that it? You’d never really been involved like this with a guy before, so the potential was there. Was this just standard practice for boys?

“How are you?” Hajime asked, a strange stiffness in his voice. There was usually a bit of tightness in his face, a light scowl or a look of intense concentration. But even he looked tenser than usual.

“I’m okay,” you lied. You took a moment to try and catch his eye. He wouldn’t look at you. “How about you?” You asked, hoping to alleviate at least some of the awful atmosphere that had begun to cloud around the two of you. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Perhaps you were being more polite about it than you should’ve. Perhaps you should’ve stormed up to him with a vengeance, demanding to know why he was suddenly ignoring you after taking your very first kiss.

But you just didn’t have the guts to do that. Not at seventeen.

“Yeah…” Hajime mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy.”

You were well-aware that it wasn’t entirely a lie. He was Seijoh’s ace after all. And his studies were becoming more and more important. You knew as much.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

You bit your lip, looking down at your skirt. You took a deep breath, placing your boba on the ground next to you.

“Hey, Hajime… I think we should talk,” you swallowed, your heart stuttering in your chest. “About…”

“I know.” He cleared his throat, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah…” You braved a glance at him.

His jaw was tense, his brow furrowed in that familiar knot.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Hajime?” You murmured, clenching your fists in your lap. You wanted to reach out to him, to place a comforting hand on his back. But your instincts were at war with one another, unsure of what to do.

He looked at you for the first time. There’s something like torment behind his eyes. Hopelessness, conflict, regret. It felt like something really terrible had happened – was about to happen.

It felt like your ribs were about to crack.

“Look, I…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best if we pretend this never happened.”

The world shuttered to a stop. The mild afternoon sun was now searing your skin.

“What?”

“There’s too much that could go wrong.” His response was instantaneous – a little too quick by your count.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, twisting your skirt in your fists.

He was quiet for a long moment, still looking at the sky. “What if we broke up?”

You froze, objections dying in your throat. It was a fair question. But you weren’t sure if it was entirely relevant.

“We haven’t even given it a shot yet,” you murmured, trying to swallow down the discomfort brewing in your chest.

“And it’s best if we don’t.” His voice was firm, blunt. It’s the voice he used when trying to get through to Tooru.

Tooru…

“Did he say something to you?” You asked quietly, closing your eyes. If your brother…

“He doesn’t know.” Hajime knew exactly what you were talking about. “And it’s best if he didn’t.”

“Why not?” There’s something else brewing in your chest, not unlike indignation.

“One of the guys asked him about you,” Hajime said, his voice spread thin.

“They did?” You frowned. You knew who ‘the guys’ were. But you hadn’t spent enough time with the volleyball team for you to actually know what any of them were like. Although, you were only fixated on Hajime. That might have something to do with it.

“Yeah…” Hajime nodded. “And he was pretty mad.”

Really? Tooru had the gall to get angry at the fact a boy expressed interest in you? That’s why Hajime wanted to call this off?

“Are you scared of him?” You snapped before you could stop yourself.

He sighed. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Your response was quick, sharp, irritated. But if Hajime caught onto that, he didn’t say.

“It’s just…” He sighed. “It could get messy.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to still the barrage of questions you had. This didn’t make sense. Why would he—

“I don’t want to lose both of you.” His voice was soft, fragile. More fragile than you’ve ever heard it be.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say to that.

“What do you think he’s going to do if he thinks I’m messing around with you?”

Your chest ached. “Messing around?” The corners of your eyes were starting to sting.

“I don’t mean it like that—”

“Is that what you saw it as?”

“No.” He almost shouted that. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. “But he will.”

You understood.

God, you understood.

Hajime was scared that you thought he was using you. That he was playing with your feelings and leading you on. Worse yet, he was frightened that Tooru would think that way, too.

Would Tooru perceive it as a betrayal? Would your relationship cause conflict in their friendship? Would you fuck everything up by getting involved?

Tooru trusted him more than anyone. You knew how much Hajime meant to him.

And you knew that Hajime wasn’t going to throw that away for a crush.

You took a deep breath. Your throat had grown painfully dry, and your stomach was starting to swell. You needed to get home.

“Alright,” you said, standing to your feet.

Hajime stared at you for a moment, a strange brew of emotions in his eyes. You didn’t have the energy to try and work them out.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi,” you mumbled, giving him a quick bow. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He was silent for a long moment as you bent down to pick up your boba. The boba he’d bought you. He hadn’t teased you for your lack of funds today. Had that been a preemptive apology?

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. You didn’t look at him as you turned around, already plotting your walk home without him. Surely he’d understand that you needed to be alone right now.

He didn’t chase after you. Not as you walked away. Not as you threw your unfinished boba into a bin. Not as you held back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, fists clenched at your sides.

A weight pressed inside your chest, something so heavy and immovable that you knew you couldn’t keep it down this time. The bitterness you’d been trying to stifle for years bled through your ribs, rippling through your body.

Tooru got everything.

He got the passion, the drive, the direction.

He got all the attention, the opportunities, the praise.

He got Hajime.

✧ ✧ ✧

The cool touch of porcelain in the pitch dark was more soothing than you’d given it credit for.

You hadn’t known what else to do. If you were in your room, chances were someone could walk in – especially if you turned all the lights off and hid under your covers.

Admittedly, hiding in the bathroom with all the lights turned off was no less suspicious. But there’s something comforting about the cold and dark. Your brother had been onto something all those years ago.

When you were younger, you’d found Tooru sitting in the bathtub, knees drawn up to his chest while he cried.

He’d been fourteen at the time. You were barely thirteen.

You hadn’t known what to do – the first thing you did was run for Hajime.

That’s what you’d always done when it came to Tooru. You always turned to Iwaizumi – without fail, that was your answer to almost every issue. It was the only thing you could think of, even to this day.

The light flickered on. You flinched, your eyes screwing shut at the sudden assault on your retinas.

Someone yelped. It wasn’t you.

You whipped your head round, squinting at him.

“What are you doing in here?” Tooru asked, face marked mainly by confusion but not without a hint of concern.

“Just… sitting,” you said, blinking a few times.

There was no way you’d tell him why you were here. Something in you felt like that’d be wrong; that, maybe, you’d be betraying Iwaizumi’s trust.

“What happened?” Tooru asked, his voice soft and tender. He crouched down besides the bathtub, propping his elbows on the ledge.

You shook your head, looking away from him.

“You can tell me,” Tooru pouted. “Do you need me to beat someone up for you?”

“No,” you choked, cursing yourself for the crack in your voice. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glared at him, sniffling. God, you must look pathetic.

“Hey,” Tooru held his hands up. “I’m just being honest.”

You let out a long sigh, rolling your shoulders.

“I’m just tired,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

“You sure?” Tooru said, concern heavy in his voice. “I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Tooru,” you sighed.

You couldn’t tell him. Even if he offered to support you, offered to beat up anyone who broke your heart.

Because the very person that had broken your heart was the very same boy who pulled him up off the ground.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime imagine #tiny love

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oikeiji · 4 years

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call you mine | akaashi keiji

summary: you and akaashi spent the day with each other as friends. or that’s what the both of you thought. towards the end of the day, he brings up a sudden question.

pairing: akaashi x f!reader

word count: 1610

content: fluff!!! :,( akaashi ily

warnings: nothing besides mentions of food, also not proofread

(this entire scenario was based off this song, hence the title, so feel free to listen to it while reading :) hope u enjoy!!)

akaashi’s eyes fluttered open as he woke up from his slumber. his eyes shifted to the alarm clock beside his bed. it was 7 in the morning. he yawned, rolling over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. memories of yesterday’s practice replayed in his mind. him and bokuto got into a petty argument that left bokuto angry with him. akaashi frowned thinking about it, bringing his mood down a bit. it was normal but it still kind of bothered him that it happened often.

figuring bokuto was still mad at him, he decided to call you. he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and clicked on your contact. you were surprised that he was calling you so early in the morning, but it was akaashi so you didn’t mind. he ranted about what happened with bokuto and you gave him some advice. afterwards the both of you talked about random things and made each other laugh.

you looked at the time and it had already been two hours since you answered his call. there was now a comfortable silence between the two of you. “hey keiji?” you called out to him and he hummed in response. “wanna meet up and get something to eat? since i know you won’t be hanging with bokuto today.” he got too excited and eager, quickly accepting your proposal.

the two of you are quite close and akaashi won’t deny the fact he has a crush on you. how could he not? you were so funny, understanding, talented, pretty… the list could go on. he knew he was falling when you unexpectedly made him a bento with his favorite food. the two of you rarely hang out outside of school due to him being busy with volleyball and you had other things to do as well. of course he took this opportunity right away.

akaashi got up from his bed to get dressed. he wanted to impress you since you always see him in his uniform, but he tried not to overdress. you guys planned to meet up at the train station and walk to the restaurant together. he left as soon as he was ready, trying not to make you wait up.

the train ride wasn’t too long and he arrived at the agreed time. he looked around the station trying to find you. he spotted you waiting near the exit of the station. god she looks so good, he thought to himself. his heart rate picked up a bit and he gulped before approaching you.

“hey y/n!” akaashi called as he started getting closer. you looked over to his direction, a smile immediately appeared on your face. wow he looked even better in casual clothing, you thought.

“keiji!” you greeted him back. you hoped you didn’t come off too excited. the two of you exchanged a little side hug. it was a bit odd since you guys weren’t touchy due to being surrounded by classmates almost all of the time.

“you look.. very pretty.”

“thank you. you look very handsome yourself,” his little compliment made your heart skip a beat. was this really happening? your face started to heat up. oh god, you really hoped he didn’t notice the blush forming on your face. you didn’t want him to see the effect he had on you.

during the walk to the restaurant you two talked about what food you were going to order. it also consisted of you guys getting sort of lost since the maps app was being stupid and giving you the wrong directions. akaashi was the one pointing out that you were heading towards sketchy places. eventually you guys arrived at your destination, which was a cute little conveyor sushi belt restaurant.

being the gentleman he was, akaashi let you in first and followed after you. the two of you were sat down by the host. when akaashi sat in front of you, that’s when you realized. you were really alone with him. just him. no classmates or people you knew around. it was just the two of you together. is this technically a date? no... neither of us said it was, you got lost in your thoughts. you tried your best to hide your nerves so he wouldn’t notice anything off.

“ready to order?” akaashi interrupted your thoughts.

“oh yeah! you can put yours in first.”

he quietly agreed. little did you know that akaashi himself was yelling on the inside. he tried thinking of it as if you guys were in class just talking. except this was nothing like class! you guys weren’t talking about the assignments or what your plans are for the school day. he shouldn’t be acting like this though.. you guys were good friends. he blamed it on the fact he was romantically interested in you.

once the both of your orders came in, you guys started eating. thankfully it was just like your regular old conversations. nothing awkward or uncomfortable, just two good friends having a chat over some good food. you guys shared some good laughs and you took pictures of akaashi claiming that ‘he looked like a squirrel’ with his cheeks stuffed. he got revenge by taking some of you unexpectedly. secretly, both of you were happy you got pictures of one another.

after your delicious meal, you dragged akaashi to an arcade nearby. the two of you played a bunch of games and competed against each other. some games he let you win on purpose, but some games just sparked his competitiveness and showed you no mercy.

you guys played games for about an hour before deciding to leave. that place was really eating your money up. akaashi was surprisingly good at the claw games. he let you keep some of the plushies he won even though you protested against it. it was unintentional, but you guys ended up with matching plushies. he just really wanted you to keep something that reminded you of him.

on the way out you noticed that there was a photobooth. you suggested taking pictures for memories. the pictures came out super cute and you guys had a copy each. akaashi was definitely going to cherish this and place it somewhere nice in his room.

it had gotten dark outside very quickly. after doing other random activities like window shopping, you guys came across a park. there were surprisingly a bunch of people despite it being dark out. all of the benches were occupied so the two of you sat under a tree.

“wow, the sky looks so beautiful tonight.”

“yeah you can see the stars very clearly,” akaashi turned to look at you. you were staring up at the sky in awe. he quickly turned away before you could catch him staring.

the two of you were in the same comfortable silence from earlier. you guys gazed at the stars together and enjoyed each other's presence. however, both of you were not calm on the inside. you became hyper aware of how close akaashi was to you and debated whether to scoot closer or not. on the other hand, he was fighting with himself if now was the right to confess. there wouldn’t be any other perfect time than this.

akaashi looked over at you again. he admired how the moonlight shone down on you. butterflies began to fill his stomach. you looked so beautiful to him, the stars were literally in your eyes. he couldn’t take his eyes off you and wished he could capture this moment to have forever.

“y/n?” he tried to gain your attention.

“hm what’s up?”

“no, look at me.”

you were startled by his words and turned towards him. he was staring at you with such a serious look on his face. his gaze alone made you nervous again and you froze in place.

“please just listen and don’t say anything until after,” he spoke. “i really like you, y/n. i’ve liked you for a long time now. ever since that day you randomly put that bento box on my desk. you’re so nice to me and always listen to my problems. i couldn’t help but fall in love with you. seeing you look at the stars next to me makes me fall in love with you more. there isn’t any other perfect time for me to confess to you… can i call you mine?”

you teared up at his confession. he looked at you worriedly but before he could say anything you hugged him tightly. he slowly wrapped his arms around you, kind of confused.

“keiji, you idiot,” you mumbled into his chest, letting a few tears out. “of course i’ll be yours. i did that all for you because i like you. it’s about time you finally knew about it.”

“i’m so glad, i really thought you were going to reject me,” akaashi slowly rubbed your back.

“you’re dumb. you’re so dumb, keiji. why else would i go out of my way to make you lunch?”

you cuddled up into his chest, watching the stars together. eventually you guys had to separate ways since it was starting to get really late. trying to leave each other at the train station was hard, but you hugged each other tightly before separating.

once akaashi got home, he flopped right onto his bed. he couldn’t believe that actually happened. he brought his blanket up to his face and started smiling hard. memories from tonight replayed in his mind. his phone buzzed beside him, snapping him out of his thoughts. he quickly grabbed it.

goodnight cutie :)

you were really going to be the death of him.

HELP IT’S ALMOST 7AM AND I STAYED UP WRITING THIS. hope you guys liked this one as much as i did!! sorry if the end seems a bit rushed i’m very tired lol. aaaaah akaashi T__T the things i do for u.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagine #akaashi oneshot #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!#hq akaashi

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alwayschoppedtaco · 4 years

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60 Dialogue Prompts

If you want me to write something using these prompts, just send me the number and the character/person you want it to be written about!

1. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!" "And I'm trying to subtly avoid it!"

2. "Did you get my note?" "Of course I got your note, you taped it to my forehead when i was sleeping."

3. "Do you believe in love at first sight?" "No but i do believe in hating people who do."

4. "Well someone thought it would be a good idea to throw our back up plan of the bridge." "It was on FIRE!"

5. "Can you hit me with your knife?" "I do believe the technical term is 'stab'!"

6. "I'm not a thief I'm just really good at acquiring things that aren't mine."

7. "Your not my favorite person today!" "I'm not your favorite person ever!"

8. "Security, schmecurity. I want to see what is behind that door!"

9. "I feel life I'm getting stabbed." "How do you even know what getting stabbed feels like?"

10. "If we die here, I'm going to follow you around in the afterlife, reminding you it's your fault we died."

11. "I assume I deserve this, but could you tell me why you want to kill me?"

12. "On a scale of 1-10 how bad do you think it would be if I-" "At least a twenty."

13. "None of you got date?!"

14. "You would be surprised at how much you can screw up in twenty-four hours, all it takes is a little motivation and a hammer."

15. "I regret a lot of things, but this conversation makes the top of the list."

16. "What happened to me last night?" "You thought you developed magic powers and could talk to squirrels." "Kind of glad I don't remember any of that." "Don't worry I got it all on video."

17. "Sorry, I spout out random facts when I'm nervous."

18. "Anger makes you stupid, and stupid gets you killed."

19. "If you don't apologize, I'm going to tell mom." "Please I'm an adult, i can do what I want." "Okay, MOM!" "No, wait! I'm sorry!"

20. "Are you clinically insane or just really annoying?" "I don't know, probably both."

21. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not her!"

22. "Right now I don't know if I want to kiss you or push you of a bridge." "Can I pick?"

23. "I had an idea!" "Oh God..." "I swear it's a good one this time."

24."You say 'potato' I say 'damn it, put the gun down'!"

25. "You're a dragon tamer, and your scared of spiders?"

26. “I have something to tell you.” “Oooh~ Are you about to profess your undying love for me?” “Yes, I am.” “.....What?”

27. "It’s nice to be wanted, you know?" "Not by the law!"

28. “Can you stop making jokes for one fucking minute?” “The other option is I cry and face my feelings, so no.”

29. “I’m sorry, you dropped this!” “Dropped what?” “Your common sense, you moron, what the hell are you thinking?”

30. “...What the fuck is that?” “A cat.” “That is clearly a dragon wearing a cat ear headband.” “No it’s not, it’s a cat.” “That breathes fire?” “.....It’s a very rare breed.”

31. “Your concerns have been noted, but not entertained.”

32. “How are you not fucking terrified right now?” “Compared to the family get-togethers I’m forced to attend twice a year, this is actually rather tame.”

33. “What? No witty one-liners today?” “I haven’t slept in, like, thirty-six hours so words aren’t very good for me right now.”

34. “Well, there goes the fucking plan.” “Wait, we had a plan?”

35. “You love him!” “Yes, I know.” “Then why don’t you just confess already?!” “Because he’d brag about me being the first one to confess for the rest of our lives. That bitch is gonna confess to me first!”

36. “I can’t even begin to explain what I’d do for you. How far I’d go. How many lines I’d cross without a second thought, if you asked me to.”

37. “By the way, I’m sorry.” “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything?” “It’s a preemptive apology. I can guarantee it’ll come in handy later.”

38. “....You think they’ll notice?” “I think they’d be fucking stupid not to.”

39. “Hey, um, quick question. When the hell were you going to tell me you have your archnemesis kidnapped and locked up in the bathroom?” “Oh, yeah. That’s right! They broke in right before I had to go to work, and things were so crazy there I nearly forgot. Sorry about that!”

40. "Yeah, I'll probably die alone." " I asked if you were dining alone." " Oh, that too."

41. “.....Well this is awkward.” “To be fair, you look like a completely different person when you’re wearing civilian clothes.” “I mean, that’s kinda the whole point of a secret identity.”

42. “Cocoa for your troubles?” “I was thinking a couple of shots would be more like it.” “Well, you see, I already made the cocoa, so...”

43. “Wait, are you crying? Oh no, oh, please don’t cry! I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry, I was trying to make you laugh...”

44. “Hey, do you know if potions expire?” “I think it depends on the potion. Why?” “Well, I was really hungover this morning and grabbed the wrong glass and I feel super weird right now.”

45. “That’s twice that you’ve killed me now. Shall we go for round three?”

46. “You don’t understand. I had to! I was -- ” “If you dare say you were just trying to protect me, I’m going to break your jaw.”

47. “The text said you brought in one stray cat! A singular cat!” “Did I? Must’ve been a typo. I found this whole box and I couldn’t just leave them there! Besides, what’s wrong with four little kittens anyway?”

48. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you, right?” “....” “Right...? W-Why won’t you answer me?”

49. “How good of a mood are you in right now?” “.....What did you do?”

50. " I wish you could block people in real life" " Restraining order" " Murder."

51. "You trust this man?" " I absolutely trust him." " He’s not some kind of mad man then?" "I absolutely trust him"

52. "What did you do?!" "I did my bestpacito..." "Get the fuck out of my car."

53. "One of these days i'm going to murder you!" "Well that's not very comforting."

54. “Yeah all I learned was how to say ‘sorry I broke that’ in twelve different languages.”

55. "I always wanted a pet!" "You realize we can't keep this, right?" "Why not? It's cute!" "It's a dragon!"

56. "I know your secret!" "Your going to have to be more specific, there bud. I have a lot of skeletons in my closet."

57. "Where is your shoe?" "The giant mud puddle down the road demanded a sacrifice."

58. "Be careful who you trust, salt and sugar look the same."

59. "Surprise! I'm back from the dead! Isn't that exciting?!"

60. "Go to hell!" "And leave you here all alone?"

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occasionally-writing · 3 years

Text

Chilly Weather Pains

A/N: I’ve been mulling over this idea for a bit but I finally picked up the motivation to write. I’m sorry if it’s not too good since this is the first time I am writing for these two and for the fact I haven’t written anything since Dad passed away. But I wanted to try and since the drama ended yesterday, I couldn’t help but write for them. I will be writing more for them in the future if anyone wants to send in prompts for these two <3 So yeah...thanks for reading it guys :)

Summary: When Tian experiences pains coming from the scar on his chest, he chalks it up to the cold morning and gets on with his day. As the ache becomes too much for him to ignore, Tian goes back to the cabin where Phupha is waiting for him, having the solution to his problem.

Word Count: 2536

Scrunching his eyes as the sun peeked through the open windows of the soldiers’ cabin, Tian grumbled something illegible and rubbed his sleep crusted eyes, wincing when the sun beams temporarily blinded him before he sat up. Letting out a long yawn, Tian glanced to the side of the bed that Phupha usually occupied and frowned, seeing that his boyfriend was no longer there, the side of his bed cool to the touch which told Tian that he hasn’t been in bed for a good while now. Stretching out and groaning when his body cracked, Tian ruffled his hair and moved to stand up, the cold wood beneath his feet shocking him slightly as he stumbled. Becoming aware of the chill around him, Tian shivered and rubbed at his arms, a dull ache echoing from his chest.

“Oh, Tian! You’re finally awake, huh?” Hearing a sudden voice, Tian jumped and spun around, letting out a sigh when he realized it was only Yod, the man smirking at the look of surprise that was surely on Tian’s face. Feeling his smirk leave him, however, when he noticed Tian rubbed at his chest softly, Yod stepped further into the room and patted him on the shoulder, his worry written plain on his face. “Is your chest hurting you? If so, why don’t you check up with Dr. Nam? I’m sure he won’t mind!”

“No, no. It’s okay P’Yod. It’s just a little achy, probably because of the chill in the air. I’ll be okay, I promise,” Tian chuckled, giving his friend a grin to show that it wasn’t that serious. Letting out a hum and nodding, since he knew that Tian would only deny seeing the doctor more if he pushed, Yod squeezed his shoulder and gave a salute as he walked out, letting Tian know that he was heading to help Rang out with doing the morning patrol. Waving him off, Tian waited for the curtain to the cabin to stop moving before his hand found his chest again, his thumb tracing lightly at the scar underneath the fabric of Phu’s borrowed shirt. “Maybe he’s right...I’ll give it some time though. It’s time for a shower anyways.”

Gathering his clothes for the day, Tian chose something simple and tossed a towel over his shoulder, fetching some of the supplies that he knew Phu kept in the bedside table. Stepping outside, Tian blew out a breath as the chill in his bones grew deeper, the shivers racketing his frame, his steps moving quicker so he could get the shower done faster and change in the warmth that was his clothes. Removing his pajamas, Tian dumped water over himself and quickly lathered the soap, washing his entire body before he moved to his hair, soaking it with another bucket of water and rubbing some shampoo into it, rinsing it quickly once he was sure he got ever part of his hair soaped up.

“Good god it’s cold...I think it’s all out now, towel...towel...towel…” Tian mumbled to himself, reaching for the towel and wrapping it around his waist, stepping out of the manmade shower and grabbing his clothes. Jogging into the cabin once more, Tian tossed his pajamas in the basket and slipped on his new clothes, using the towel to ruffle dry his hair. Checking his appearance out in the mirror, Tian smiled when he felt satisfied and slipped on his boots, tying them firmly. Grabbing the army jacket that he knew belonged to the Chief, Tian slipped it on before he threw his messenger bag over his shoulder and tightened the strap. Brushing off the jacket, Tian made sure he had everything and stepped out, squinting at the sun as it seemed like it wasn’t doing a thing to warm the area around him. “Time to make the walk to the village...I don’t think anyone would be at the school but it wouldn’t hurt to make new lesson plans while I’m there.”

Trying not to notice the dull ache becoming more like a sharp pain, Tian let his eyes survey around him, taking in the chirping birds and squirrels of the forest. Hearing the sound of chatter, Tian knew he was close to the village and the sight that greeted him made a smile rise on his lips. It was that time again where the Shaman visited and gave his blessing to the villagers. Nodding to some of the villagers that noticed him, Tian smiled at everyone who met his gaze, giving the Shaman a polite wai as he continued his trek towards the school. Not seeing his boyfriend throughout the walk in the village, Tian tried not to let it show that he was looking for him before he stepped up the stairs of the school and entered the building.

“I wonder where Chief is...and doesn’t he usually do the morning patrols? Why was P’Yod and P’Rang doing them?” Tian questioned to himself as he placed his bag on the desk and sat in the seat, pulling out his notebooks so he could write down potential lesson plans. Tapping his pencil against the paper as he went through the plans he had written out, Tian glanced up at the clock Phupha had put up on the wall and blinked. Was he really sitting there for two hours? Biting his lip, Tian tapped his pencil against the desk for a moment, deciding to finish up. Closing his books and packing them back in his bag, Tian stood up and threw the bag over his shoulder, stepping out of the school and taking in a deep breath. “It’s been two hours...no wonder Chief checks on me so much. Speaking of Chief...where is he?”

“Looking for Phu?” Smiling when Tian noticed Doctor Nam walking up to him, he gave the Doc a wai and glanced around him, not caring anymore if it was obvious that he was looking for Phupha. Snickering as he noticed Tian’s eyes searching what he could see in the village, Nam patted his shoulder which gained the other’s attention, the look of confusion plain and clear on Tian’s face. “Phu was with me but I think he’s back at the cabin now! Oh and before I forget, Yod told me you were experiencing some aches from the scar, I gave Phu some stuff to help with it. Keep the tube because the weather does change a lot here and the mornings can be chilly.”

“O-oh! Okay, thanks P’Nam! I think I’ll head back to the cabin once I’m done with what I have to do here. I was thinking of stopping by Khama’s house and saying hi to Longtae,” Tian thought out loud, making Nam snort since Phupha did the same thing and now that him and Tian lived together, Tian seemed like he was adopting some of the Chief’s mannerisms. Giving Tian a pat on the shoulder, Nam grinned and set off for his office, Tian waving him off and practically hopping off the steps of the school, making his way on the well known path towards Longtae’s home. Hearing the sound of roosters crowing, Tian grinned and quickened his steps, stopping in front of the cozy little hut to see Khama feeding the chickens and Longtae sitting on the porch. “Good morning Khama, hi Longtae!”

“Oh! Good morning Tian! Not with the Chief today, I see?” Khama announced loudly, scaring some of the chickens which caused Longtae and Tian to chuckle. Sitting beside Longtae, Tian shook his head and explained how he was at the school and was coming up with new lesson plans to teach the children once Monday came. Smiling fondly at how excited Tian seemed when he was talking about teaching the village children, Khama nodded and finished up the task with feeding the chickens, leaving Longtae and Tian to talk. Not quite knowing how long he was with Longtae, Tian announced his leaving, which caught Khama’s attention. “Why don’t you and Phupha come have dinner with us again sometime? It feels like it’s been years since our last meal together.”

Chuckling at this, Tian promised to bring it up to Phupha and strolled off, giving one last wave to Longtae before he began his trek back towards the village, knowing that the Chief was most likely waiting for him. Greeting some more villagers as he made his way through the village, Tian followed the path that took him to the soldier’s cabin, the torches helping with lighting the way since the evening sun was beginning to set and the stars began to twinkle in the sky. Finally making it to the cabin, Tian rubbed at his aching chest and stepped up the stairs. Rolling his eyes with a grin at the commotion that was echoing from the dining area, Tian made his way inside and bit back a yelp when he came face to face with a stern looking Phupha.

“Chief! Damn, you scared me!” Tian gasped out, placing his hand on his heart as Phu softened and reached out, taking Tian’s bag and placing it on the hook where it's usually kept. Staying in his spot, Tian only moved when Phu gestured him over towards the bed, sitting his boyfriend on it as he pulled out the tube that Nam had mentioned to Tian earlier. “I’m sorry I took so long to come back, Chief. Uh...is that the ointment that P’Nam told me about?”

“Yeah, Yod told us that you seemed uncomfortable when he greeted you this morning. Why didn’t you go to Nam’s if you were experiencing some pain?” Phu gently reprimanded, arching his brow in a warning when Tian opened his mouth like he was going to argue. Deciding against it, since he knew that Phupha was probably right, Tian shut his mouth and muttered a soft apology, playing with a loose thread on his jeans. Letting out a sigh, Phu shook his head and sat next to his boyfriend, lacing their fingers together. “Don’t worry about it now. Just let me help, okay? Take your shirt off so I can apply the ointment.”

Flushing slightly, Tian huffed as he obviously wanted to argue but he knew it would get him nowhere since Phupha was just as stubborn as him, maybe even more so. Glancing around to make sure the shutters to the windows were closed, Tian sighed and did what Phu wanted him to, shrugging off his shirt and placing it beside him as the chill of the air caused goosebumps to rise on his skin. Letting his eyes take in the thick scar on Tian’s chest, Phu hummed softly when he noticed how red the skin around it was, just knowing it was because of the weather around them. Popping open the cap to the ointment, Phupha put a good enough amount on his fingers before he met Tian’s eyes once more, motioning that he was about to touch him.

“It might be cold, so I’ll apologize in advance,” Phu warned, wrapping his arm around Tian’s shoulder before his medicine coated fingers touching the raised scar. Jumping from shock as the cold cream touched him, Tian cursed and squeezed the sheets beneath his fingers, shivering until the ointment began to warm. Being gentle as he can, Phu carefully spread the medicine around the scar and on top of it, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. Observing his boyfriend, Tian couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, secretly loving how caring Phu truly was when it had something to do with him. “Okay, I think I got it spread out pretty well...did it help a little?”

Taking in a deep breath and noticing the way the pain dulled to something Tian could ignore again, he nodded, and moved to put his shirt back on while Phupha capped the ointment and left to wash his hands. Cracking up softly when he heard the cheers and whistles when Phupha had stepped outside, Tian let himself drop on the bed, his eyes examining the ceiling while he listened to the demands the Chief gave the others, Tian’s eyes rolling affectionately as the playful mocking continued. Noticing when his boyfriend came back into the room with a sigh, Tian snickered some more, which made Phu grumble and kick off his boots, making his way to the bed and easily launching himself over Tian to the free space that he had claimed before.

“You’re lucky I love you, or else you would’ve got a punishment for laughing at me,” Phu grunted out, making himself comfortable before he pulled Tian close, letting his boyfriend use one of his arms as a pillow. Snuggling more into Phu’s embrace, Tian stuck his tongue out at Phu, who scoffed and reached out, digging his fingers into Tian’s side, making his boyfriend squirm and snort out laughter, his apologies high pitched due to his giggles. Pulling Tian closer when he was done teasing him, Phu pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, smiling at the adorable leftover giggles that left Tian’s mouth. “What were you doing throughout the day? Rang said that you weren’t here for most of it.”

“Well...I went to the school for a few hours and thought out some new lesson plans for the kids. After that, I talked to P’Nam for a bit and then I went to Khama’s house and hung out with Longtae for a bit...which reminds me. Khama would like us to have dinner with them some time,” Tian rambled as he talked about his day, reminding Phu about the future dinner plans they had to make with the village chief. Nodding softly as he listened to Tian talk, Phu kept the small smile on his face until Tian noticed it and gave him one of his own bright smiles. “If I’m being honest, Chief. I missed you throughout the day. When I woke up and saw you were beside me, it was weird.”

Snorting softly at the pout that was on Tian’s face, Phu ruffled his hair which got a whine from his boyfriend before they were suddenly face to face, their eyes observing each other until Phu let his eyes drift down to Tian’s lips. Doing the same, Tian swallowed the growing lump in his throat and it wasn’t long until Phupha leaned down and pressed their lips together, the kiss soft and displaying everything they were feeling for each other in that moment. Pulling away, Tian let his eyes flutter open as Phu kept their foreheads pressed together, their eyes meeting as similar smiles rose on their lips. Moving so that he was pressed firmly against the warmth of Phu’s body, Tian let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes, letting the soft caress of Phu’s hand on his chest put him to ease, the soldier’s fingers gently tracing the sensitive skin of his scar over his shirt. Nuzzling his nose into Tian’s hair, Phupha let out a sigh of his own and relaxed for the first time that day, not minding the way Tian dozed off, his eyes never leaving the adorable sight of his boyfriend resting peacefully.

#tale of a thousand stars #1000 stars the series #phutian #phu x tian #my writing

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

The King And Queen p2

REAL LIFE X SWORD IN THE STONE COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: CUTE AND FLIRTY

I Sighed as I kneeled on the kitchen floor scrubbing it with the little brush often having to dunk it back in the soapy bucket.

"Hey kiddo" Mrs Livi smiled as she came back from dinner

"Hey"

"You have fun with merlin"

"He nearly killed me again"

"You know he's just trying to help you darling"

"I know" I sighed

"He just wants to make sure your smart, and you don't end up like those broods up there" she says as she ate an apple sitting beside me "You're a smart boy Thomas. always have been"

"Have I?"

"Always, you used to sort the spoons and forks for me when you could barely reach the table" she smiled I finished up and threw my water down the drain sitting with her having an apple too "Merlin just wants you to grow up good. we all do" she says

".... What was my mum like?" I asked and I could read the sadness in her face "Please"

"I barely remember her," she says

"will you tell me? about that night?"

"We were dealing with them upstairs, and there was a woman at the gates, we went out to her, It was dark, raining, she stood there on the stone of the gates with a long cloak and... you in her arms, she begged us to take you, she cried and screamed but they refused. she explained she was dying I asked about your father and she said he was already dead, So ... I took you in, In secret. hid you down here in the kitchens till you could walk and talk" she explained

"You could have left me? to die out there with her?"

"... We could. But we didn't" she smiled "Go on up to bed, I'll finish up" she says

I gently woke up listening to the birds and other such animals in the woods singing at the morning sun, I held onto my pillow tightly trying to maintain the sweet embrace of sleep. but as usual

"What are you doing sleeping my boy! come along wake up we have lessons!" merlin yelled as he came into my room shoving my bed and going to the window opening the shuttered

"Uhhhh merlin! come on one day off!"

"Day off? you think the kings crossing these vast lands took a day off? you think they had days off to build the castles! you think fish just decide to take a day off? the birds? the wolves? get off your lazy butt you entitled boy!" He yelled

"can't you turn me into a bear today? so I can hibernate?"

"Out of bed or so help me I will transform you into something.... unnatural"

"Like what?" I groan

"ever wondered what it's like to be a worm? or a spider? or maybe I'll turn you into one of the turkeys downstairs"

"Please do! those turkeys have it better then I do" I sighed getting up and getting dressed "what are we doing today?"

"Today we go for a nice walk in the woods"

"A walk in the woods?"

"Yes"

"That's all we're doing?"

"yes"

"Fine" I sighed finishing up and heading out with him going to woods following the paths between the trees deeper and deeper into the vast, dark, thick forest

"...your not going to turn me into a wolf? or a fox? or... a fucking owl are you?"

"Don't. Question. Wizard. Business." He says hitting my head with his wand

"Owww." I complain

"Just for that you know what I'm turning you into?"

"No."

"A fucking squirrel"

"Nooooo!" I whined

"You are going to learn about preparations, and there is no creature who prepares more then a squirrel" He says

"You not turning me into a fucking squirrel!" I complained trying to run back though the path but before I could even get two steps away I was suddenly tiny and I had a tail "You have got to stop transforming me into things without consent!"

"Ohh grow up" He sighed transforming himself too, "Come along lets go and watch the squirrels" He says scurrying up the tree, I sighed and followed him up the tree he ran along the branches of the tree until he jumped from one tree to the other

"I can't do that!" I yelped

"Of course you can! your a squirrel now!"

"I may be in the body of a squirrel! but I'm still a skinny little unathletic man"

"Just jump already!" He sighed, I did my best and only just made it so he helped to pull me up onto the branch completely "see you made it thomas"

"I hate lessons with you" I sighed trying to march off "I do not want to be a damn squirrel! I am sick to death of your stupid lessons! change me back! Now! I do not want to be a damn dirty, ugly, fluffy, shit covered-" I began but noticed his little face "There is one behind me isn't there?"

"Yes" He laughed

"Am I gonna die?"

"Probably"

"Fuck" I sighed turning to see the little Y/H/C Squirrel looking at me "I'm gonna die" the squirrel moved closer sniffing me and looking at me "Please... Please don't kill me little squirrel,"

"Ohh your safe, she's a nice little girl squirrel she's just looking at you" He laughs

"she's not going to kill me?"

"No, No she probably just wants to smell you and see who you are."

"Well... hello, Miss squirrel please leave me alone" I begged but she grabbed my cheek and giggled in a strange squirrely way and grabbed my tail "AAAH! merlin!"

"Ohhhh" he laughs

"Get off!" I told her ganking my tail back but she only giggled again and jumped on me hugging me "Merlin!"

"Ohh my my" he laughs

"What!" I yelped "what she's gonna do to me!" I complained as she kept playing with my tail "Ohh will you get off!" I sighed turning to make sure she was away from me

"I think she likes you" he laughs as she wrapped her tail around me I kept trying to get away but she always followed me and tried cuddling me

"Likes me? what do you mean likes me!" I complained

"Well nature I suppose, she likes how you look, how you smell, not to mention your a boy and she's a girl,"

"But I'm not a squirrel!"

"Well she doesn't know what does she" he laughs

"Look, Miss Squirrel, your uhhh your very nice but I'm a boy" I told her which only made her wrap her tail around me tighter

"I think she knows that lad" he laughs

"Well not a boy, well not a boy Squirrel anyway. I'm a man. a human man" I told her trying to push her tail away

she giggled again and tried to hug me so I sighed and pushed her off me completely going back towards merlin who now sat against the branches laughing at me but I got many three steps before she grabbed my tail again

"Merlin! Help me!"

"And what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Turn me back? magic her away? I don't care just make her leave me alone" I sighed

"Ahhh see now here's the problem. it's there mating season" He says looking at some notes

"Mate- MATING SEASON!" I yelped "Ohh no, Oooh no! OOoh no!" I complained trying to get away from her

"That'll be why she likes you so much" He laughs

"I'm not a squirrel!"

"Well she doesn't know what, as far as she's concerned your a boy and she's a girl and... well its that time of the year."

"I. AM. Not. mating. with a fucking. Squirrel!" I complained trying to fight her away from me "Look! keep your squirrelly hands to yourself Madam! I am going home" I said pushing her away and trying to climb down the tree but she just grabbed my tail again and pulled me close to her nuzzling with my neck and wrapping her tail around me and she wrapped mine around her too "MERLIN!" I yelled "HELP ME!" I screamed and she kissed me "MERLIN!" I screamed as she kept kissing me every chance she did I pushed her away and ran down the tree "Merlin! change me back! TURN ME BACK! Turn Me Human!" I yelled running as fast as possible, hiding by the roots of the tree in hope she wouldn't find me but she had followed me and wrapped her tail around me kissing me every chance she got

"Alright, alright, I'll turn you back" He laughs changing back to and he turned me back unfortunately … because the squirrel girl was on top of me he turned her into a human too. so she was sat over me her hands on my chest, her y/h/c hair messy and un brushed, completely naked. "Ooohh my goodness!" He jumped as he saw what had happened we both just looked at each other confused and I had to admit, she was beautiful as a human. "One of those things with magic you can't always aim, now just move away and I'll change her back" He says she smiled and giggled at me nuzzling with my neck she gave me a sniff and smiled widely kissing me again, I couldn't help wrapping my arms around her and kissing back, I had never kissed anyone before but she was so egar and excited I couldn't help kissing her sweet lips back "Thomas.... Thomas to change her back you need to, move away from her" He says

I smirked pulling her closer as we kissed "One... one minuet Merlin" I said between kisses

"Thomas! Move or I turn you back into a squirrel" He warns

"..... Okay" I shrug pulling her closer

"Ohh for god- You horny boy" He complained dragging me away

"Noooo! put me back!" I complained and he turned her back into a squirrel "NOOOOO!" I complained

"I thought you wanted to turn back?" he laughs

"I did,"

"I thought you wanted her away from you?"

"I did,.... and then I didn't"

"Lets get home before you try and turn back again" he sighed

"Can I at least say goodbye?"

"Fine"

"I'm sorry little squirrel girl, But I have to go back to the castle" I told her and she looked so sad scurrying off into the tree's "Ohh, No Please I'm sorry."

"Come on Thomas, leave her be she has enough to do" He says as he headed back to the castle.

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chuckie101123 · 3 years

Text

The Cult of Carnage

“I figured they were all insane, like the cops did. The marks they left behind, the carvings, it all pointed to a satanistic murder cult. The bodies they left behind were all mutilated to the point that we needed dna testing to find out what kind of animal it was from. We couldn't use size because when they started a mutilation fest, everyone joined in. And from the bodily fluids they left behind, it seemed they enjoyed an orgy along with it. None of us even considered the possibility...

The cops couldn’t get close to them, ever. They were all too loyal to their cause. They couldn’t find a snitch, and they couldn’t plant one of their own. Eventually, one of them came up with the bright idea to call me up. I was a cop, once. Had retired six years before I got the call, saying they needed help with one last case. I was bored, figured why the hell not, and drove in the next morning. When I entered, I entered into a madhouse that was nothing like the station I had left. It seemed like everyone and their brother was there, everyone shouting and running around at once. Then they caught a glimpse of me, and all of a sudden, it was silent. The chief poked his head out of his office to see what caused the sudden change, and paled when he saw me.

I suppose I should explain. Before I left and retired, I had a reputation around the station. Put simply, I was violent and unorthodox. I didn’t care about social niceties much, always thought of them as too frustrating to deal with. As such, I came across more often than not as a dick. Pissed a lot of people off with my carefree attitude too, a lot of powerful people. Eventually some of them tried to get me fired on accounts of illegal activities. No one could get the charges to stick. See I was a well-known asshole, but I was good at my job. I was violent, but never more violent than was legal. I wasn’t racist, wasn’t greedy, and was always ready to help out someone in need. (Hey, I told you, I didn’t care about social niceties, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help out a kid who’s car broke down on the side of the road.)

Anyway, when the brass up top couldn’t bring me down the legal way, a few of the more immoral ones tried to take me down the hard way. I sent every one of their men to the hospital with varying injuries, six of whom are still in a coma and twelve more who have to be fed with a straw. Again, the brass tried to get me fired for excessive violent behavior, but as it was in self-defense, the charges wouldn’t stick. Over the next three years, I personally put twenty six of those corrupt bastards behind bars. I doubt I got all of them, but no one has messed with me since.

Anyway, back to the station. So the chief sees me, pales like he just shit out all his blood, and rushes to greet me. Turns out, I recognize the dude. The guy was just a deputy when I left, must’ve done well for himself to have gotten his title. I already didn’t like him, but I did my best to keep myself in check, as he already looked terrified enough. After greetings, he took me to his office and explained the situation.

Forty-two occurrences in the last two months, all involving what looked like violent blood-baths and massive orgies between around thirty or so members. No member had been caught, no DNA matches, nothing. Nothing, except, a symbol, always placed in the very center of the presumably very exciting events. The symbol was that of a crescent moon lying point side down on top of a sun with a half circle taken out of the side closest to the moon, and there was a four-point star lying in the gap between the two, almost like it was being sheltered or protected somehow.

No evidence, no witnesses, and no leads would make for a difficult case, and I told him as such. In response, he placed a picture on the desk in front of me, and explained that the woman shown was believed to have something to do with it. I recognized her, Alicia Cortez. She was a nice girl, late twenties, who worked in a grocery store in the downtown area. I had caught her out late one night in the pouring rain and offered a ride. On the way to her home, I got to know her a little better.

She grew up in New Jersey with an abusive father and a junkie mother. She told me that at first, she seemed like she was on a path that would lead her to follow in her mother’s footsteps, using dangerous and powerful substances to fill the ache inside her. Thankfully, a kid helped her see just how far she had fallen, and she packed up and moved to our town that same week. I wanted to ask her more, but by the time I figured out how to phrase the question and opened my mouth, we had already arrived at her house. She thanked me quickly, and ran inside to escape the rain. It seemed strange, but I shrugged it off and drove home. That was eighteen months ago, two months before I got the call.

Once I saw the picture, I started to wonder if I shouldn’t have pressed further. Deputy O’Ryan, or now, Chief O’Ryan, told me that the incidents had started soon after she arrived in town. They said her neighbors had reported strange sounds coming from her apartment, but every time police arrived, the sounds had stopped and no evidence to anything resembling what the neighbors heard could be found. I told the chief I’d look into it, and went home.

Few weeks later, I “ran into” her at the grocery store where she worked at and asked her if she’d like to join me for lunch. As we talked, I noticed she was very pleasant. Not “uninterested in the conversation”, but more mischievous “What do you think you know” pleasant. Eventually, our conversation moved onto her past again. I tried to press gently on what made her change her life around. She smiled in triumph, and even though the damage was already done, I tried to back peddle. It didn’t work. Still though, she answered my questions.

She explained that the child that changed her life introduced her to his religion, an unorthodox and still recently established Carnagism. She went on further to vaguely explain how the god they worshiped, Carnage, was not quite how the name suggested. She was not evil, or violent, nor did she encourage such traits in her followers. Instead, she encouraged freedom in its truest form. No prejudice, no discrimination, no worries. “Does that include no laws?” I remember asking. Her only answer was a smirk. It was clear to me that I wouldn’t get an answer to that question, so I tried to change topic, asking instead what her religion had done to help her life? After all, if it was appealing enough to get her to pack up and move so quickly, surely the benefits must be amazing? Rather than answer, she instead invited me to her next worshiping session to find out for myself.

And so began my dilemma, do I agree and join her for what might be my own murder, mutilation, and possibly corpse-rape, or refuse and give up the case? For my stubborn, dumb ass self, their was only one option. I accepted.

Fast forward two days, and I find myself in the woods, hand in hand with over seventy other people as we skip around a massive bonfire in a clearing in the woods I swear wasn’t there the day before. All of us are buck-ass naked, covered in paint, mud, and blood from the desecrated corpses of hundreds of birds, squirrels, rabbits, foxes, and field rats. I realized why the bodies were so hard to identify: because these cultists used nearly every part of the corpse, beyond what a normal hunter would. The feathers, each indivual hair, each bone, brain, musclefiber, and organ, all used in their rituals. We fed on the meat and organs, and dressed ourselves in the rest, excluding the pelvic bones of all the females. Those were tossed into the fire we all skipped around, shrieking, laughing, and chanting as we summoned what I had assumed to be another made up god.

I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

As we shrieked and sang and chanted in a strange language I could never quite catch, the fire suddenly exploded outward, the flames rushing across our bodies, touching but never burning. A few of the more recent recruits like myself shrieked and tried to recoil in fear, but we were stopped by the tight grips of the members on either side of us. We tried fighting back until we realized we weren’t hurt by the flames, and we looked to the flames first in wonder and curiosity before our expressions turned to those of fear and wonder. For there, before our very eyes stood figures in the flames of every hue and color. Beings of pure fire, beautiful and proud, took their steps across the edge of the fire towards the cultists.

I stared in wonder at the sight before me, these beautiful and terrifying beings, as one by one they stood in front of a cultist. For simplicity's sake, let’s call them elementals. No two elementals were the same, some didn’t even look human, despite their flaming appearance. Some had what looked like animal heads, others had appendages added and subtracted in weird ways (one had feet for arms and arms for legs and a tail attached to the back of their neck), a few just seemed like floating flames with no features of any kind, and others still just were. They were like the air above hot tarmac, you could see the shimmer and could feel the heat but could see no definite features.

It took me a moment before I realized one of the elementals had stopped before me. Whereas the other elementals were larger, almost adult sized or even bigger, mine was tiny like a fairy might be. She floated in the air before my face, gazing intently at me until I looked at her, and then she smiled. Not the forced smile I was used to seeing, nor the pity smile a mother might show a child who brandishes a mud pie in his hands, nor even the full grin you’d see on that very child’s face. No, the elemental before me smiled a gentle smile, full of only kindness and love, as if she were a mother smiling at a child who returned home after losing their way. Her smile made me feel safe, and warm, like everything was going to be okay.

I couldn’t help it, and I’m not afraid to admit it. I cried. I wanted so badly to apologize to her and thank her and welcome her to this hellish world. So many emotions and needs arose within me at the sight of her gentle smile that I just collapsed in joy and grief and anger. Every suppressed memory, every lost moment I’ve ever had came rushing to my mind. I relived my horrible childhood life, suffering every beating my father gave me, breaking as my mother screamed that I was worthless and would never amount to anything. I relived all those painstaking study sessions, trying to do meet their expectations, but also trying to meet my own. I relived my old friendships, all my romantic relationships, every argument, every peaceful or proud moment. I relived my fistfight with my father and my last argument with my mother before they both died. I remembered every day I’ve ever had, and relived each as if they were occurring at that very moment all at once. And then I relived more recent days. Peaceful walks in the park after retiring, kind conversations I had with people around my neighborhood, excited grins from kids waving to me as I passed. I relived my conversations with Alicia about the goddess she worshipped, Carnage was not a god of violence and destruction, but of chaos and freedom.

And I understood. Carnage was not a goddess of lawlessness. She did not encourage the mutilations of animals for fun, but to teach the value of each individual piece. Carnage represented a peaceful freedom, without corruption to spoil it. Hatred, fear, joy, worry, her followers were free to experience all without judgement. They were not condemned for who they loved, nor were they discouraged from loving as much as they could as often as they could. With Carnage, the strange or different weren’t just permitted as they were everywhere else. They were accepted. There weren’t any personal definitions or social cliques, They just were, free to be as passionate and loving as they desired to be.

With that realization, the memories slowed to a trickle, the last few days before the ritual playing softly and slowly until I caught up with the present. When I did, I noticed three things. One, I was kneeling on the floor with my head in my hands, tears still flowing gently down my cheeks as my nose ran. Two, the small elemental was beside me, her tiny hand rest gently on my cheek, flames licking at the stubble from my beard. Three, she wasn’t alone.

In front of me kneeled another elemental, adult size this time, though still female. She faced me with her hands on my shoulders, holding me as I sobbed. When I had finally stopped crying enough to see her clearly, I saw her face. She was even more beautiful than all the rest, and while the others looked like they were made from the flames, she looked like the flames were made from her. Every feature was more defined, from her angled, kind eyes to her soft, supple lips to her delicate, nimble fingers and toes. She was just as nude as the rest of us, but it was not her body that held my attention, but her eyes. For in them I saw the history of mankind, all the fury and bloodlust but also the love and compassion. And those kind yet terrible eyes looked at me with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.

“You remember,” she said, not a question but as a statement. Even so, I nodded in answer. “Do you know who I am?” I shook my head. “I am the goddess you have worshiped this night. I am Carnage.”

“Hi...” I said in a small voice, making her smile.

“You have a way with words, child,” she teased.

“Sorry,” I apologized, looking down in shame.

“Do not apologize, young one,” she whispered, lifting my head. “It is a part of who you are, what makes you unique.”

She started to rise, lifting me up with her. She smiled at me once more before turning to see the other cultists. She held herself up tall as she made her way back to the bonfire, no longer roaring as it had been. Those she passed bowed, but did not kneel. When she reached the edge of the fire, she stopped and turned to once again face me.

“Tonight, my children, we celebrate! For we have helped your new brother remember!” she exclaimed to the crowd, as a roar of joy rose up from the other cultists. “Tomorrow, we celebrate once again, for I have returned to this beautiful and terrible world! Tomorrow, we will right was has been wronged, and rebirth the ugliness of the Allmother with her former beauty!”

“TILL THE DAWN!!!” a roar rose from the cultists, as if a battle cry had sung.

That night, I danced with my brothers and sisters, loved them as only I could, ate as I wished, and celebrated the return of Carnage.

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mysticaltigersorceress · 4 years

Text

(Cute) Harbingers of Chaos

A/n: So this is my piece for @some-piece‘s AU challenge!! My choice of characters was: Silvers Rayleigh, Shanks, Wire, Kuzan (Aokiji), and Shachi. I’m going to do a (college) library AU. All fluff and fun, no warnings!! this turned out long than i meant lol, but most is under the cut. feel free to add to the masterlist basi uwu

Word Count: 1.8k (i know, i thought it was gonna be shorter, but then, well, whoops lol)

Notes: Shachi x Reader (vaguely lol), gender neutral reader, and 2nd person pov

Summary: Reader works in college library, chaos caused by adorableness, Bepo is a massive pupper lol, plans went askew

AO3: Find it here on archive uwu

When you began your shift at the New World University Library, things started off as per usual. Armed with mints in your pocket and a single earbud in your ear, you started on your to do list, first of which was shelving books. Making your rounds through the library, you gave a few smiles and half waves to some of the students you recognized, but soon enough, you were lost in the music and books. Things were going quite smoothly too, that is, until a tall ginger in a whale hat dragged you out of your world, literally.

He yanked you around the corner of the shelf with a crazed look on his face and frantically looked around before crouching down and grabbing you by both shoulders.

“You work here, right? Have you seen a tall guy in a white hat? Super scrawny, possibly high and definitely needs to lay off the coffee?”

“Sorry, what? I- no. Could you–” A loud BOOOOF cut you off, and all the blood drained from Whale-hat’s face. He released you and rocketed away faster than a bar of soap in the bath, cursing about flightless wanna-be posh birds. Not quite knowing what else to do, you sprinted after him.

Students were fleeing the plaza at the center of the library, while just as many flocked in with their phones to film whatever was happening. Whale-hat was shoving his way through the throng and you dived after him, apologizing to the disgruntled students as you went.

Whale-hat broke free of the crowd before you, and the people cut off your escape before you could follow. You could hear someone yelling about wasted food, a bunch of incoherent shouting, and a frick ton of barking for somewhere any animals besides service dogs were not supposed to be. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but it smelled of trouble, and you could get in a LOT of trouble if this didn’t get resolved quickly!

“COMING THROUGH!” You held your arms around your face and bulldozed through the last students in your way, breaking out into the open–

Something big and heavy to slammed you to the ground, gave you a few licks and ran across you.

“POLAR BEAR!” One shadow jumped over you, quick as a whip.

“THAT'S A DOG IDIOT!” Another shadow soared overhead. “STOP CHASING HIM, HE THINKS THIS IS A GAME!”

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry about this!” Whale-hat paused his pursuit just long enough to help you up and make sure you could see straight. “PENG YOU IDIOT, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP HIM OUTSIDE!”

“LET’S SEE YOU TRY TO CONTROL AN EXCITED DOG WHO WEIGHS AS MUCH AS YOU!!!”

Whale-hat ran off after you assured him you were fine, and you took in the scene before you. (Properly this time, no giant dogs to obstruct the view).

The dog in question (definitely able to be confused for a polar bear by size alone) was bounding joyously throughout the plaza, making new friends who would give him pets before he noticed the meat-kid and scamper excitedly away again. Behind Meat-kid were Whale-hat and his friend, trying desperately to call over the dog.

“IS THAT YOUR SHITTY DOG!?” A blonde guy yelled from across the plaza, remnants of a meal scattered around his feet. “IT JUST ATE ALL OF OUR DAMN FOOD!” Why had they decided to have a picnic in the library? And why was the dog close enough to raid their picnic?

“COME HERE POLAR BEAR!” The meat-kid got close enough he dived for the dog. You thought he would actually catch the dog, but the dog dodged at the last second, leaving a student available for meat-kid to tackle instead. You barely held back a snort at the sight of limbs flailing askew and they disappeared from view.

You scowled to compose yourself and took a deep breath; this had gone on long enough. Crossing the plaza, you snatched part of the lost meal and whistled and made some kissy noises. “Here boy! Come here! Want some food?” You patted your leg excitedly and crouched down, trying to lure the fluff monster over.

By some miracle, he heard you over all the noise and bounded over to you, graciously gobbling up the treat and basking while you showered him in rubs and praise (and took a hold of his collar). Whale-hat and his friend wheezed as they ran up to you, gasping out apologies and thanks as they reattached the leash and tied it to their belt. Was– was that a great idea?

“YOUR POLAR BEAR STOLE MY MEAT!” The meat-kid bounced back over to them, hunger and indignation emblazoned across his face. (Talk about the living embodiment of hangry.)

“That's a dog Strawhat-ya." From behind Strawhat came a tall lanky man with bags the size of hammocks under his eyes, freshly soaked in coffee and wearing a white fuzzy cap.

White hat. Tall. Probably needs to lay off the coffee. "Is that–"

"LAW! There you are!" Whale-hat laughed and interrupted you, "We were just taking Bepo out for a walk! And we brought you some–"

Law pulled something out of his pocket and chucked it in the opposite direction. Bepo bolted away faster than a squirrel in a nut factory, dragging poor Whale-hat’s friend behind him. You watched alarmed as the dog/human sled combo created a scene which reminded you of bowling pins in a bowling alley. Law then held out his hand expectantly; Whale-hat swallowed hard and reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a pack of... salted licorice? He handed the candy and a few bills over, and the lanky zombie disappeared with Strawhat bouncing after him.

What on earth was happening?

"Oi, shithead! What are you gonna do about my ruined food!? Poor Nami-san and Robin-chan are gonna starve because of you and your shitty mutt!" The blonde growled at Whale-hat, glaring him down in a way that might have been scary, had he not been several inches shorter than the one he was yelling at.

"A, that's not my dog, and B, if Bepo wanted to eat it, then it probably tastes like shit anyway!"

They both started arguing loudly over each other, and you buried your face in your hands. This certainly wasn’t how you wanted today to go. But now, it was time to get this mess straightened out.

"Alrighty boys, listen here,” you growled, “I will look over you," you pointed harshly at the blondie, "having food in the library and I will look over you," you poked Whale-hat in the chest, "having a dog in the library if you both get this mess cleaned up. NOW."

Both their eyes went wide and they lowered their heads and apologized before scampering away to clean up the spilled food. That’s odd, you never thought you were that intimidat–

“Sorry for the trouble,” an arm wrapped around your shoulder and you found yourself looking at the face of a very cute girl with orange hair, “I’ll make sure those idiots make it up to you.” She winked then strutted away.

You blinked as she disappeared. What the hell just happened? Could this day get any weirder? You shook your head and went to monitor the boys as they cleaned up. Several minutes of cleaning (and attempted flirting on the blonde’s part) later, the floor was clean, and you left them to pick up where you left off in your regular librarian duties.

Days later, you hadn’t run into any of them again, (though you think you might’ve seen Law passed out in the medical section), and it was all starting to feel like a weird fever dream.

That is, until you received a text from an unknown number while you were at work in the library.

This you? (Accompanied by a gif of you, being tackled by a big white furry smudge.)

It looked hilarious, but you were torn between laughing and wanting to cry. Was this all over the internet now? Were you a meme?

You could just say no, wrong number… But what were the chances some random stranger had a gif of the incident and then texted you?

Maybe. Who’s asking?

The typing symbol appeared and disappeared several times, but after a few minutes it didn’t appear. Well that was anticlimactic.

“Uh, hi. Sorry, I just wanted to check if the number Nami gave me was right, or if she was just trolling me.” A voice came from behind you and there he was: Whale-hat! Wait, who the heck was Nami, and how had she gotten your number to pass along?

“Who gave you my number?”

“The girl with the orange hair from the other day?” He frowned. “You didn’t give her your number?”

“Not that I recall…”

“Oh.” His eyes kept meeting yours then darting away again and he shuffled on the spot. You decided to have a little mercy on him.

“I never caught your name,” you extended your hand and introduced yourself properly.

“Ah, shit! I’m Shachi. Sorry about what happened the other day. We didn’t expect Bepo to cause such a mess.” He scratched the back of his neck and gave you an apologetic bow.

“It’s not your fault those students thought having a picnic in the library was a good idea,” you chuckled. “By the way, is your friend okay? The one who got dragged away?”

“Oh, Penguin’s fine! A couple of bruises and stuff, but he’ll live.”

“So, where did you get that gif?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Someone got a good video of the whole thing and it’s already got about half a million hits! I can send the link if you…” He trailed off remembering this might not be something you wanted to be famous for.

“Right, um…” Shachi blushed and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I actually was here more than just to apologize and show you embarrassing gifs of yourself.” He tucked his hands behind his back and glanced around. “I mean, it can be part of the apology but I was going to ask if I could get you coffee or something sometime but if you don’t want to that’s fine. Nami was threatening me that I need to be a gentleman– BUT NOT TO ASK YOU OUT, I wanted to do that anyway before this whole fiasco happened, but then you know, this happened, and I–”

“You’re asking me on a date?” you felt the corner of your mouth twitch up.

“I– yes?” He smiled nervously at you.

You couldn’t help a small giggle. This felt waaayyyy too much like a scene from a bad fanfic, but it still made your heart go uwu.

“Okay. I have to get back to work, but text me later and we work out a time.” You waved and pushed your cart away. A wide grin split his face in two, and he waved back before running giddily away.

~~~

“I told you the Bepo plan was a sure fire way to get a date!”

*THWACK*

“That wasn’t how the Bepo plan was supposed to go! You owe me big time!”

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spnsmile · 4 years

Note

Cas will smite everyone who insults Dean's freckles

Yes yes he will! No questions asked! 👀

But shit just went down here, anon! Still sweet end, don't worry ✨ For you 😅

--------------- 👀

Castiel likes it when Dean is honest with himself.

Since their first kiss, their first night, both confessing how they always wanted each other in every way, Castiel made Dean agree they both stop their 'wishful thinking' and start doing as they please. They wasted time dancing around each other, Castiel is not about to condition Dean on his own wants. He wants Dean. Permission was given. Castiel trusts Dean and that's about everything they needed to know.

So he likes it when Dean steals kisses while in the middle of a stressful hunt. Likes it so much when Dean entwines their hands while doing manual research. Best, of course, is when he can pin Dean on the wall without much as a blink. Gets thrilled when Dean pushes his chair and straddles his lap without warning.

It happens anywhere in the Bunker: the library, the kitchen, even the upper entrance where they set the chessboard game. He loves Dean's honesty, it makes his whole face brighten and make Castiel feel like sunshine is flooding his soul.

So it's true. Honesty is the best policy. Except for Sam. Sam needs limits. Sam says he needs his peace of mind so honesty is not for all. Sam who caught them by the ham radio panel once, twice by the telescope too- needs his rules. They had to make sure Sam is safely out of the way.

So when Dean stands up from his chair and walked to him while Castiel sits on the couch by side table, Castiel smiles too. Sam is out for the night. And Dean wearing his cheeky little grin and twinkling green eyes suggestively makes Castiel's invisible broken wings to flutter in excitement.

Dean takes the book from Castiel's hand and threw it away. Angel's eyes follow where it landed (in case he needs to retrieve it before a dog eats it) before falling on his knees. Castiel watches Dean, mesmerized as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. Their eye contact is glazed and intense when Dean looks up before kissing the tip of its head.

Castiel exhales for the blessing. Leaning back on the chair, he cards his hand on the hunter's hair. Dean is beautiful. Much beautiful with cheeks flushed and lips wrapped around his cock. But it's not this that gets Castiel staring fixedly.

"I love them. Your freckles."

It's the first time he's said it.

Also, first time to see Dean glare up to the angel's surprise. His movement did not cease but the pacing grows bolder and quicker that Castiel is throwing his head back breathlessly, fingers digging on the hunter's hair till he comes. Dean draws more from him, Castiel wonders if its Dean telling him to stop talking.

Dean's lips certainly can and when the hunter smirks at Castiel's wrecked form, the angel thought nothing of it anymore

Until the next hunt.

***

The impala door slams shut, scaring off squirrels on the nearest lawn in the middle of a hot suburb.

"What's the plan, Samwise?"

"Shut up, Dean. We need this done pronto. We already know the demon's inside the house holding two college students hostage-"

"-who happened to play around with a book of witchcraft and eventually summon an actual powerful demon-" Cas supplies flatly.

"Good times." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Is it?" Cas is confused.

"Guys, listen," Sam pursed his lips "we still have to know what kind of demon they summon okay? From the description of the mother, the book she saw is ancient-"

"That's my boy remembering all the nerdy stuff." Dean pats Sam's shoulder who scowls.

"I was thinking they could've summoned an old demonized pagan god which means it's going to be a little tricky."

"Can't I smite it on the spot?"

Dean beams at Cas, full of heart eyes.

"That's why I love that you're here, Cas. You've no idea of half the shit Sam and I went through when we deal with the old bitch stuff as pagan gods." Cas only squints.

Sam shakes his head. "No, Cas. If we can catch it that's much better. We don't know what happened to the third kid."

"And there's a third kid." Dean sighs. "There's always a third kid. Cas, we can't have the demon ganked until we have the whereabout of the kid, okay?"

"Understood."

"You can smite it when things got out of hand," Sam adds. Castiel relaxes. "Dean will work on the trap downstairs while I tackle it wherever the hell it is."

"Definitely not in hell." Dean snorts humorously but nobody laughed. He scowls.

"Cas can cover the back of the house, Dean can go front while I clear what's the second floor, see if the kids are there. And Dean. Don't kick the door, please." Sam finishes.

Dean winks at Cas. "Sammy does the search and rescue while we get the tough job."

They do the drill.

Dean is the first to reach the living room. Castiel hears him kick the door. Rolling his eyes, he walks through the kitchen, searching high and low. But he stops when he feels the evil energy contained in the space ascend so he hurries to Dean.

Dean has it in a devil's trap. It has shed the mortal body to its gruesome true form of bile and wood, an old pagan indeed. Probably after Sam exorcises it.

The demonic voice did not surprise him he hears it talking to Dean. He hears the threats, the convulsing energy that wants to harm, but when the demon starts cursing at Dean, Castiel steps forward. The demon saw him and yells curses in his direction.

"I got it, Cas," Dean says.

"You?" spits the demon, "Yoke of the yellow eyes with his tongue's mark on your skin, got me? Freckled fuck-"

Castiel's whole form flares with anger. He sees Dean flinch, sees the color drain from his face as the demon went on with insults but it's over in a second. Castiel smites the demon, holy grace exploding in blinding rage. His eyes stay on Dean who blinks at him in surprise. They stand there not talking till Sam appears telling them third kid is not upstairs.

"Cas! I told you we need him!" Sam says, crestfallen at the empty devil's trap.

"It got out of hand," Castiel says tone leveled. "Dean?"

"Uh... Yeah, yeah out of hand. Let's find thirdy." Dean reverts to his business tone, hunter first mode but Castiel sees through him.

Turns out the third kid is dead.

***

That night when in the safety of Dean's room, after Castiel strips all but the necktie on his neck and granted Dean's fantasy, when the hunter is in a better, relaxed mood, Castiel asks Dean about it.

Honesty is what they needed most.

"It's not that. I love everything you say, Cas." Dean says with the left arm at the back of his head, the other Castiel's pillow while the angel stared up at him. "I just don't like it getting pointed... During, you know, sex."

"Why not?"

Dean looks away. "I know they don't look good. Not in the dark, not with fire-"

"What? Some mortal you had sex with said it's not?" Castiel couldn't imagine the fire at first, wondering how some one- nightstand can make Dean Winchester doubt the perfection of every part of his body.

Dean doesn't answer so Castiel pushes himself to look Dean in the eyes. His green eyes look somber and hurt. It confuses the angel.

"Dean."

"It's not exactly mortal." he points out.

"Anna?" Castiel chastises.

"No."

"I can recite all the supernatural beings in the world Dean, both in Alphabetical and numerical order. Also in symbols even Enochian if you want. So unless you want me to start the vigil-"

"I think you'll get there easy with demon A plus torture, y'happy now?" Dean snaps, turning his body away from the surprised angel.

But Castiel is a bottle of rage. He wants to climb out of bed and charge hell once again. Destroy everyone who made Deam suffer. But this is not about him.

Castiel's inside flounders at the gravity of the meaning. He stares at Dean's shrinking form, his exposed back where he can see the lovely sunspots graced by heaven's light even in the darkness of the room.

The remark of the demon hits him hard. Even when it's been years, scars of words don't easily heal...

He feels Dean's anguish, can see the brightness of Dean's soul slowly diminish. And it's easy to fall prey to your own demons sometimes, much easier than loving yourself after what happened.

It hurts the angel.

"Dean." he places a gentle hand on the hunter's shoulder possessively, glad Dean isn't pulling away. "Dean, when I put you together from hell when I touched you right here," he squeezes the shoulder, "I cleansed your soul from any damage and residue that hell brought you. That's what an angel's claim means to do. To purify and renew. Any sin you committed before then has been... Um, in your words, turned a clean slate. There was no doubt you came out from there intact and cleansed."

"Let's not talk about it." Dean fumes. "Not in the sack. Don't mention it, please, Cas.."

Castiel looks brokenheartedly at Dean. He rubs his hand gently on Dean's skin before finally pulling the man's back flat on the bed. His heart ached when he sees the blurry green eyes swimming in silent unshed tears.

Castiel frowns deeper. Dean is beautiful and no kind of demon will ever see that. It takes amount of love to see it. Dean needs to see it. So he leans down. Crawls over the man, their bodies parallel, his knees on each side of Dean's hips and then worships him

Lile how Dean deserves it.

He catches Dean's eyes. Makes Dean see the intensity of his love. Presses a gentle kiss on Dean's eyes, his nose, his cheeks. Dean's lips he brushes with his own.

"I love them. They are beautiful," he repeats firmly, confidently.

Dean swallows hard. Castiel crushes his lips on Dean to a bruising kiss, distracting Dean further when he presses their body together, igniting the flame dampened by a cursed memory. But Castiel won't let Dean continue believing his freckles are Taboo. He loves Dean's freckles. Loves everything that is Dean.

So he repeats it when he touches Dean and makes him come. Repeats it when he takes Dean apart. Whispers it when Dean falls asleep in his arms. Knows Dean starts believing when he says it repeatedly on his ears and Dean smiles.

"I love them, okay?"

Dean pecks on his lips and murmurs, "I love everything you love, Cas."

"That means you."

Dean looks him in the eyes softly. Castiel waits, embracing Dean closer like doing so would keep Dean's heart together. Then-

"Mm kay. I love myself too."

Castiel tucks his face on Dean’s neck.

"Fuck, Cas - babe, you cryin?"

It's between that and smiling.

#anon #anon asks #creative anons #destiel ficlet #ficlet destiel #dean x castiel #destiel #casdean #deancas

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maandags · 4 years

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the watchmaker (Finn Shelby x reader) {part two}

aaaaand here’s the second part yeehaw

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Summary: After your uncle died, you decided to rid yourself of your troubling past and move to Small Heath, into the flat and workshop he left you. Soon after, though, Tommy and Finn Shelby crash into your life and bring back unwanted memories.

Genre: angst, fluff (at the end. gotta go thru some pain first im afraid)

Word count: 7.9K

Notes: CW: death mention - asphyxiation - panic attacks (?) - {part one} - masterlist - bitch i wrote 17k in like a week and , if i could write like this all the time ……………….. @ the writing gods : please,

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That night, you stayed in your flat, pacing the floor and hesitating, not knowing whether to go or to stay. It was already late. You didn’t know if it was still worth it to go, yet your conversation with Tommy from earlier that day had left you confused and with more questions left unanswered than before. You bit your nail, approached the window that looked out onto the filthy street.

You wrung your hands. Undecided. Undecided.

The coat on its hanger was calling your name. In the distance you thought you could hear singing, and laughing; the sounds of jovial carelessness and mirth. Hesitating, hesitating. Then you frowned at your own reflection in the cold glass. Who were you to deny yourself a bit of fun? When was the last time you’d been truly carefree? As much as you tried to convince yourself of the opposite, there were no reasons why you shouldn’t go.

But… But what? you asked the irritating little voice inside your head; but what, exactly?

And so you went.

You’d never seen the Garrison in its full glory. It was pretty, you had to admit, though you knew you would probably have preferred it during the daytime. The rooms were filled to the brim, men shouting and hollering and singing drunkenly, waving around pints of beer and crystal glasses in which sloshed amber-brown whisky. The barman was having a time of himself trying to keep up with all the orders, hands moving so fast you got dizzy just from looking at them.

A short and stocky man approached you, and you immediately noticed the sheen cast over his eyes like a film of intoxication. He brought his face close to yours and you recoiled as he frowned and tried for eye contact.

“What’s a young'un like you doin’ here all by yeself, eh?” he slurred, stumbling when a man almost twice his size clipped his shoulder. He barely seemed to notice, though, all of his attention fixated on you. “Where’s your mates?”

“Um,” you stammered, scanning the crowd over his shoulder in search for a familiar face–Tommy, Finn, fucking Polly Gray for all you cared–and growing slightly panicked when you could find none of them. “I'm–I’m looking for someone.”

“Fuck ‘em,” the man drawled, draping an arm over your shoulder and effectively pressing his body flush to yours, “come with me. Let’s have some fun, you and I, yeah?” You had to make an effort not to gag.

Someone bumped into you from behind, and you were pushed into the man’s chest. His smell overwhelmed you, pressing into your nose and your mouth and your eyes until your brain spun and dark spots started to appear in front of your eyes. You felt your knees weaken, and you were sure that they would buckle at any given moment.

Then a hand closed around your upper arm and yanked you from the drunkard’s grasp. You expected a shouting match to follow–the drunkard had seemed rather insistent on your company–but all that came from him was a whimper and a mumbled apology. You blinked the dark spots from your vision, heavily leaning on the unknown figure–though you had a suspicion regarding their identity–as they lead you through the crowd. Steadily you regained your footing and your sight, and you stole a glance at the person whose hand still tightly held onto your wrist.

“Hi,” you said, a smile creeping up your lips despite yourself.

Finn glanced down, eyebrows furrowed in a concerned frown. “You okay?”

You nodded. Finn didn’t seem satisfied, but led you to a barstool. He gestured for you to sit down, then told the poor fellow on the stool beside yours, “Fuck off,” and hopped onto his freshly acquired seat.

You shook your head at him, but the smile you tried so hard to push down was still there.

“You look pale,” Finn shouted over the noise.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Finn. I’m fine.” You were a little dizzy still, but you didn’t want to get drunk. Your thirst for alcohol had dissipated with your desire to have a fun night, and you felt sour and tired and only wanted to go home.

Finn didn’t look convinced. He waved the bartender over, and a moment later slid you a glass of water. You narrowed your eyes at him. He shrugged.

“Job’s done, eh?” he stirred his own glass.

You nodded, glaring at your water, fingering the rim of the glass listlessly. “Done. All of it.” You took a sip, just to wash down the dryness in your mouth. “Fucking hell.”

He just watched you, and you looked at him, and then you said, “Do you want to go outside? I hate it in here.” You did. You hated the stuffiness of the place, hated the smell of bodies pressed together, the stench of booze hanging in the air and laying a haze of drunkenness over the very air. You hated it.

After a moment of curious consideration, Finn said, “All right,” and cleared a path for you to get out of the busy pub.

The outside air pricked your cheeks and you drew a few grateful breaths, welcoming the sweet coolness in your lungs. You almost coughed, just to rid yourself of the sticky, syrupy air from inside the pub. You started to walk, no destination in mind, but you knew you had to move and get some feeling back inside your limbs.

“Hey, hey, hang on,” said Finn from behind you, and he jogged a couple of steps to catch up with you. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going home,” you said, though you didn’t plan on going straight home. You’d take a detour, maybe stop by your workshop and take a few pieces home; gears or pistons or anything familiar to keep your hands busy and the nerves at bay.

“But why? You walked in and walked straight back out!”

“Yeah. All this stupid trip did was remind me why I don’t go out in the first place.”

“And why’s that?”

You shoved your hands in your pockets and kept up the pace, forcing Finn to jog a step every once in a while to keep up. “Too many people. Too much drunkenness. Too much chaos. Too much… just too much.”

You rounded a corner into an alley that you knew would take you to your shop faster than the main road. It was a tricky passage to take: it was dark and muddy and a popular spot for the most unpleasant of peoples to gather; but it was faster, and by your side was Finn, so you didn’t feel as nervous as you usually would.

He was trying to understand. You could tell. He was doing his damn best to understand why this affected you so much, why the fullness of the pub meant nothing good to you. You didn’t expect him to entirely get it. He grew up with this; he grew up with the sound of gunshots ringing around his ears, the thump of adrenaline that followed it, the nights of drinking and partying and going wild.

It was different for you. It always had been different.

The village you grew up in was quiet, and the most exciting moments of your early childhood were little walks in the forest with your father, and he would point out to you the birds and the squirrels and the mushrooms and sometimes, if you were very lucky, you’d spot a deer or two in a clearing somewhere; or when there was a big market in London, and he’d hoist you up on his shoulders and let you explore all the colours and sounds and smells unfamiliar on your own, from your perch where you towered above everyone else, and exhilaration would fill you like it was injected in the very air you breathed.

And then your father was sent to France, and never came back. Arrangements were made for you to live with your uncle Henry, who lived a few towns over, and he took you in and cared for you like you were his own.

Of course, when you got a little older, there was excitement enough in the building of bombs. But the town Henry lived in was only a little bigger than your home village, and though it took a while getting properly adjusted, it had finally started to feel like home.

Birmingham was different. It was dark and huge and unforgiving and things happened in its shadows that you would rather stay as far away from as possible. Nevertheless, it was where you’d set up shop. It was where Henry had bought the damn shop, and you still didn’t really know why. Uncle Henry had been an eccentric man, but he hadn’t been stupid. You believed that if he owned a flat and a shop in Small Heath it had to be for a good reason.

Speaking of good reasons…

“One more thing,” you started, rather loudly, and Finn almost jumped at your side, “that you better have an explanation for, is this.” You rammed the key inside the lock and yanked open the door to your shop, not stopping to hold the door open for Finn but instead letting him catch it on his own.

You snatched up your toolbelt and started collecting stuff to take home. “I talked to Tommy this afternoon.” Pause. You looked around, found the copper wire you’d been looking for, stuffed it in a pouch on your belt. “And he said that he never told you to babysit me at all. That he had no idea that you even were at my shop all day.”

Finn froze, and you watched with a sort of grim satisfaction as he seemed to lose some of the carefully constructed composure he always seemed to wear around you. He had begun to look almost a part of the shop when you were still doing Tommy’s job, but now he looked as out of place as he had been the first time he’d set foot in it.

“Strange, eh?” You continued. You didn’t know why you were so sour about it all of a sudden. Maybe you felt taken advantage of. Maybe Finn had pretended to enjoy your company all along, maybe he was doing it for his own intentions. It was just the sting of knowing he’d lied to you that made the words taste bitter as you forced them from your tongue. “There’s nothing for you to gain here. Why would you come at all?”

“Small Heath can be a dangerous place,” he muttered, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes and you scoffed.

“Not to you it fucking isn’t. You’re a Shelby, Finn, and I'm–not–fucking–stupid.” You slammed a drawer shut and knotted the belt around your hips before covering it with your coat again. “Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t tell Tommy; nothing happens in this shithole without him knowing about it, right?”

“Y/N–”

“Maybe you wanted to do something for yourself for once, eh? God knows all you can do is suck Tommy Shelby’s cock and hope for a reward.”

“Y/N, stop–”

“You know what? I think I liked you better when you were pretending.”

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“Listen to me!”

You stopped dead in your tracks. It was the first time he’d raised his voice at you, and through the haze of anger still burning in your chest you were a little offended. “What?” you spat again, shoulders drawn up to your ears and muscles tense.

Finn took a breath, closed his eyes. When he spoke again, it was in a voice that trembled, and threatened to spill over with emotion any moment. He was fighting hard to stay calm. “Your uncle–”

“What the fuck does my uncle have to do with this?”

“You’ll know if you let me fucking finish!” he said, irritated.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and clamped your mouth shut, your chin lifted high and one hip jutting out to show you were absolutely not content with the situation whatsoever.

“Your uncle bought this place–and the flat–as a safehouse. Because he got in deep with the wrong people. He planned to come here once you were old enough to fend for yourself. He paid the Blinders for protection beforehand, but never made it here.”

With every word he spoke, your eyebrows crawled closer to your hairline. The information was entirely new to you, and you were having a difficult time processing all of it.

“He was murdered, Y/N.”

That hit you like a hammer to the chest and your heartbeat started racing. “No,” was all you managed.

“I’m sorry–”

“No,” you repeated, more forcefully this time, “no. No, he died in his sleep. It was a peaceful death. They said so.” You sounded like a child. You knew you did. But your entire world was tearing at the seams, and the fact that Finn–whom you had known for just over a week–knew more about your uncle, your flesh and blood, than you did, didn’t sit right with you.

“Then why didn’t they ever show you the body, Y/N?” Finn’s voice was gentle, like how he would address a toddler having a tantrum, and that made it all the worse.

“Because I never fucking asked!” you said shrilly. “No. Don’t fucking come near me.” You stuck your hands out in reflex when he took a step towards you, and though he stopped moving, hurt flashed across his face.

“Y/N. You need to understand. The people who killed your uncle want you dead as well. It’s relatively safe for you here, but Tommy’s had men watching the shop and your flat since the day you showed up. How do you think we knew about the bombs?”

“But–but–” Your knees buckled and you only just managed to yank a chair towards you.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe.” Finn ran a hand through his hair, and looked at you with eyes full of hurt. “Glad it’s appreciated.”

As he turned, you dropped your head in your hands and said, “Wait.” You didn’t hear the door open, so you took that as a good sign. “I'm–I’m sorry. For shouting at you.”

He sighed. “It’s alright.”

“No,” you said with a bitter laugh. “It’s not. Can you sit down?” He did, pulling up a chair beside you. You rubbed your temples, screwing your eyes shut against the bonking. “Talk. Tell me… tell me everything.”

And he did. He told you about the twin brothers whose parents Henry had helped kill by building the bomb necessary–or, well, that’s what he had led them to believe.

“In his last letter to us he explained how, while he had been the one to handle any kind of face-to-face business, you had built the actual bomb,” Finn said. “The Pinfield twins found out somehow and are now hunting you down.”

“But they never found me?”

“Oh, no, they did. But every men they sent here to do the job got caught in… an unfortunate accident.”

You scoffed. Why he would want to spare your feelings now was unfathomable to you. “You mean Thomas got them killed.”

Finn nodded. For the first time he looked uncomfortable, and you realised it had probably something to do with your remark from earlier. You winced internally; that had been a fucking glorious move on your part, hadn’t it?

“So now the Pinfields and their men are after me and probably won’t stop until I’m dead.” You breathed a long exhale, surprised at your still-dry eyes. The tears would probably come later, you figured. When all had settled in and the reality of the situation would crash into you with all the force of a fucking freight train.

“Pretty much.”

It was strange, how light you felt. You had just gotten told that a two murderous brothers were dead set on murdering you just like they’d murdered your uncle, and all you could focus on was the fact that you were still alive, weren’t you? So they probably weren’t that keen on your death.

Then you immediately scolded yourself and internally gave yourself a good shaking. Men were looking to murder you. You should be panicking, screaming, crying–at least be afraid–but you found that you weirdly… weren’t.

Sure, the nerves were there. But you had been on edge since you first moved to Small Heath. You had anticipated an attack every time you stepped out of your flat. So really all the news did to you was confirm that you had a reason to be on edge. That it wasn’t just ghosts or shadows you were seeing.

It was mostly the explanation, you thought. The fact that you knew now why everything had felt as weird as it had. Why Finn had been so insistent on staying with you day in day out while you did nothing but work at your desk. Why he had accompanied you to London for errands you had run a million times in the past. A weight had fallen off your shoulders: things were still looking pretty fucking bad for you, but at least you knew why.

So you said, “Okay,” and stood up, dusting off your coat with only-slightly trembling fingers.

When you started towards the door, Finn said, “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Something was starting to form at the back of your mind. The barest whisper of an idea, fuelled by the calm fury that was starting to bubble into existence and seep into your very bones. And honestly, you hadn’t even considered telling Finn about it. This was something you had to do on your own.

You were going home. But before that, you had a stop to make.

“I’ll walk you,” said Finn, and his voice was slightly apprehensive. Maybe he could see the unfiltered, absolute rage boiling behind your eyes.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Y/N. I’m walking you home.”

“Before I took Tommy’s job I never had anyone walk me home, Finn. I held out just fine those five months, I won’t suddenly get jumped and murdered tonight.” You tried to keep your voice relatively light, but the remark still came out sharper than you intended.

Finn made a face and touched your wrist. No particular reason; no particular intention. A simple touch, yet the feeling of his fingers on your skin made goosebumps erupt all over your arm and you felt your shoulders stiffen. Then you told yourself to pull yourself the fuck together, Y/N. Blushing like a goddamn thirteen-year-old over a boy touching your wrist. Fucking pathetic.

“I’ll be fine,” you promised. And you knew you would be.

There was still a bit of hesitation in his eyes, but also a grim sort of resignation. “Alright.”

You left him standing in front of your shop after you locked it up, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching as you marched the now-familiar streets of Small Heath.

It was late, and frankly you didn’t expect Tommy Shelby to still be at his office. Yet he was, and Lizzie–the secretary from before–only barely raised a brow at your quick return. You paid her no mind even as she made a snide comment about your appearance, and when Tommy called you in you thanked her absent-mindedly.

“Close the door, Y/N,” he said as he rummaged around for two glasses and poured a finger of whiskey into each one.

You did, and accepted the glass he offered you, even though you didn’t often drink liquor as strong as whiskey.

“You’ve returned,” remarked Tommy as he sat down and lit a cigarette.

You gave a mocking, sarcastic bow. “I have returned.”

“May I ask why?”

“Yeah. Um…” You swirled the drink, wondering how best to start. “I found out about my uncle,” you finally settled on.

“Ah.” Tommy set down his glass, leaned forward in his chair. He didn’t look awkward, per se, but there was a certain stiffness to his movements that there hadn’t been before. “Then you know why we took such an interest in you.”

“Yes. And this time, it’s me that has a proposition.”

He listened as you explained your idea–in a voice clear but trembling with anger–and smoked up three cigarettes in the time it took you to lay out the full details. He never interrupted once, let you say everything you needed to say, and you were grateful for it. If anything, this whole endeavour was to make sure you were never treated like a child again.

When you finished, he sat back in his chair and tilted his head ever so slightly as he mulled over your words. You were silent, waited for his verdict, because your plan would never work if you didn’t have Tommy’s support.

“It will be dangerous,” he finally said, but the four words made you happier than was probably reasonable. Will. Not would. Will. Affirmative.

“I know,” you replied. “That’s the point.”

He smiled then, a smile equally warm and cunning, and it was then you knew that you had him. “You’ve got balls on you, Y/N. That’s good.” He stood up and started pacing his office, and the two of you began building upon the foundation of the plan that you’d lain out before him.

“I’ll tell John to accompany you to London for the supply run. How fast do you think you can get this done?”

“In ideal conditions? Three days.”

“What are ideal conditions?”

“Me being able to work with no distractions, no need to get up from my bench at any point in time for any reason whatsoever so I can stay focused.”

Tommy pointed at you with his whiskey glass. “Lizzie will come see you twice a day with food and drink. No distractions.”

Everything was coming together. You stayed in Tommy’s office until the late hours of the night, and even after you’d gone over everything you didn’t feel tired. Adrenaline coursed through your very being, the prospect of bringing the plan to fruition much too exciting for you to feel any other emotion whatsoever.

When you were finally satisfied, and Tommy walked to the door to open it for you, you thought of one more thing and stopped in your tracks. You hesitated on the threshold, nipping at your lower lip. “One last thing.”

“Yes?”

You didn’t look him in the eye. “Finn can’t know. Keep him busy, away from my shop or my flat. I know you have people watching the streets–make sure he can’t even get close.”

His brows raised slightly. “And why should I do that?”

You glared at him and folded your hands into your coat. “Because we agreed there’d be no distractions.”

You went to London with John–jovial, rude, but fun to be around–and got everything you needed. You said hi to Harry and Jim, who looked up when you entered their shop for the second time in a week, but walked past the tea shop. No time for anything but work these coming days.

John was nice to talk to. Didn’t take himself too seriously, didn’t take anyone else too seriously. Confident in his status as both a Peaky Blinder and a Shelby, never hesitant to make use of it when the situation called for it, or even when it didn’t but he just felt like it. He was nice to hang around–but he wasn’t Finn.

It was easier to concentrate on your work with no-one around, you’d admit that, but it was a lot more boring, too. You caught yourself grinning to yourself a few times when you thought of something funny and already opening your mouth to share it with Finn–before realising that he wasn’t there anymore and that you were talking to nothing but air.

Lizzie brought you lunch and dinner, and you went home every night around nine P.M, exhausted and sore from sitting in the same cramped position for hours on end. You had a quick shower and stretch, then you collapsed onto your bed only to wake up at half past five the next morning.

For three days you worked like that, only allowing yourself a half-hour break to eat and stretch before getting back to it. It wasn’t like what you were building was hard–you had done it before. Not quite as many in as little time, but that was the fun challenge aspect of it, wasn’t it? Tommy expected it to be done in three days, and done in three days it would be.

On the last evening, you had to work an hour later than usual to get it finished, and then another thirty minutes to clean and close up. All in all, it was almost eleven o'clock when you turned the key and prepared for the walk back to your flat, the cloth bag hanging off your shoulder full and heavy. You kept one hand on it as you walked, just for an extra sense of security.

Then someone called your name from behind you, and your heart almost jumped out of your ribcage from the shock.

“Finn! You fucker!” you hissed, pressing your free palm to your chest and trying to keep your racing heartbeat under control. “What–what are you doing here–”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to see you at all, and least of all before the job was even done. He must have found a way to slip past the men guarding your shop and flat. You felt yourself getting apprehensive again.

“I just–I haven’t seen you in days. I just wanted to say hi.”

“It’s eleven in the fucking evening, Finn. You should be home.”

“So should you!”

“I was on my way there!”

Then his eyes went to your bag, and his brows creased. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” you snapped, turning away, but you knew instantly you made a mistake. Finn wasn’t stupid–incredibly stubborn and cocky, maybe, but not stupid–and you could see him put two and two together.

“You said it was done.” And his eyes were so disappointed that you almost burst into tears right then and there. “All of it, you said.”

You knew there was nothing you could deny anymore, so you went on the defensive, hoisting the strap of your bag back up and preparing yourself for yet another shouting match that you would feel absolutely terrible about afterwards. “That was before I found out my uncle was murdered by the very same shitheads who now want me dead too.”

“I get that. You want revenge. I really do get it–but you’re only going to get yourself hurt.”

You scoffed. “God, Finn–you saying that tells me you don’t get it at all.” You started walking again. “I don’t care if I get hurt. I just want them gone.” You drew a shaky breath. “Besides, it’s too late for that anyway. I’ll be gone from this place after this is over.”

Finn put a hand on your shoulder. “We can do it for you. You don’t have to leave. I can do it for you–you don’t need to do it yourself.”

“I do, though! That’s the problem! I do need to do it myself, because my entire life I’ve had other people do things for me and look where that ended me up. Dead father, dead uncle. Alone in this godforsaken shit-hole of a town where I can barely make a living until Tommy Shelby and his gang show up and ask for bombs.” You ducked inside an alleyway, didn’t even look if Finn followed you as you spoke–because you know he had.

“There’s nothing heavier on the conscience than another man’s death, Y/N,” said Finn, and you didn’t even try to hold back the bark of bitter laughter that spilled from your tongue.

“Oh my god. Wow. That’s poetic, Finn, that really is. Did Tommy teach you that?” Ouch. You could tell that hurt him. It flashed in his eyes, souring his entire expression. It was something you’d jabbed at before, and every time you added onto it the cracks in his carefully composure widened.

And it hurt you, too. Knowing that you were the one who did this to him hurt you; it was a knife to the gut and a white-hot iron to the heart and yet the words spilled out like a dam broke and you couldn’t stop them. You felt the control on your emotions slip and took a breath, closed your eyes. Your flat was only a few blocks away. Focusing on the familiarity of the bland walls and creaky bed cleared the fog in your mind somewhat.

Calmer now, you said, “Stop trying so hard to be like him. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

He didn’t say anything else until you stopped in front of your flat and pulled out your keys.

“Don’t do this, Y/N.”

You opened the door. “I have to.”

“It’ll break you.”

You gave the darkness in front of you a sad smile. “Already broken.”

The trip to the Pinfields’ mansion was cloaked in silence, and the air was thick with tension. In the car sat Tommy, Johnny Dogs and a few of his men, you, and Charlie at the wheel. The boxes with explosives were laid out on your lap, and you were making the last final tweaks to the mines that were to be planted right in front of the Pinfields’ porch. They were inside. It was an early Sunday morning, after all, and they weren’t expecting an attack–you had a reserve of gas grenades, and all the other exits would be blocked, and the only way to get out of the house would be the front door. There, mines would be waiting for them, and the Pinfield twins would go out with a bang.

Or that was the plan. You would count yourself lucky if anything went somewhat according to the plan, which was based on quite a number of suppositions. You couldn’t deny the nerves that were slowly building up throughout the ride, but Johnny Dogs and his mates were joking around, not looking the least bit nervous, and Tommy wasn’t giving away anything at all, so you kept your face straight and tried to stop your knee from bouncing, a jittery habit you’d never quite been able to rid yourself of.

Then the car stopped, and Tommy announced that, for the last mile or so, you’d have to go through the forest. On foot. Nothing you hadn’t prepared for, so you adjusted the bag hanging from your shoulder and started walking.

When the mansion finally came into view, your breath hitched. Until now, it hadn’t felt real, somehow–it had been easy to talk about how you would kill the Pinfields, but now that you were actually pulling through with it… You wondered if you’d made a mistake. If it had been better to listen to Finn.

You shook your head. No. No hesitating now, no turning back. You’d agreed upon this plan–Hell, you had proposed this plan–and you were going to go through with it. No matter what.

It was still dark, and it was fairly easy to sneak into the garden–the Pinfields’ grounds were so big that their gates weren’t even visible from their house, and the miserable little stone wall they’d put up as extra protection didn’t pose a huge challenge for any of your team. As you approached the main door, your heartbeat started to speed up. But you were now visible from the house, and though you were wearing dark clothes you had to get this done quickly.

Johnny Dogs ran beside you, and he gave you one of his trademark grins and a pat on the back before sinking to his knees and starting to dig the trench.

The two of you worked quickly; Johnny digging, and you carefully placing the mines in the trench, activating them and quickly covering them with the loose dirt. They had a timer on, too, so they wouldn’t be fully active until after five minutes. Five minutes to plant seven mines–you couldn’t risk the brothers missing them–was tricky, but you were positive you could manage it. You had to manage it.

A whistle sounded, and you tapped the last of the dirt over the seventh mine. You shot a quick look at Johnny, who nodded and returned the call. Then he grabbed your arm and both of you sprinted back to where Tommy and the rest were waiting. He had his rifle over his shoulder, and didn’t acknowledge your return except for a grunt when you skidded to the ground beside him. Now it was just a question of waiting–waiting until just before dawn.

They were the longest, most agonising minutes of your life, each one feeling like an hour and when you were sure you would burst out of pure bottled-up nerves and excitement, Tommy said, “Now.”

One of Johnny’s boys sprang up and raced towards the house. A second later you heard the faint sound of shattering glass, and wisps of smoke started pouring from the windows. It would do a fine job of alerting the servants, maybe even the Pinfields themselves, and you started counting down the second, eyes fixated on the front door.

And then it swung open, and a man that could only have been one of the Pinfields stumbled out, one arm over his mouth against the smoke. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, as if you wanted to stifle the sound of your very breathing.

He leant against the doorframe, wiping his sleeve across his mouth, spitting on the ground. Took a step forward. Kicked a potted plant across his porch, and your heart missed a beat–but it didn’t even fall. It was huge, the pot alone half his size, and all he did was probably hurt his foot. He cursed, loudly.

And then he stepped off his porch.

For a split second, nothing happened, and you thought you would faint with the pressure–but then a mine went off, and though you were expecting it, you jumped and turned away against the sheer force of the explosion that slammed into you like a gust of wind powerful enough to rip a tree straight from its roots and knocked the breath clean out of your lungs. The detonation of one mine quickly set off the rest, and the fast mounting explosions had you shield your head with your arms and flatten yourself to the ground.

But when you looked up and tried to blink the smoke out of your eyes, something scratched at the back of your mind and you scrambled up, ignoring Johnny Dogs’ vicious tugging at your sleeve.

“No, no,” you said hoarsely, falling onto your knees again and blindly grabbing hold of the fabric of his coat. “The other one. Where’s the other one?” Only one of the brothers had stepped outside. The other Pinfield was nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” said Johnny under his breath, then he shouted what you’d said over to Tommy.

Tommy cursed and stood up too, raking a hand through his hair. He pointed at the men surrounding him. “Find the bastard. Find him and kill him.” Then he turned to you. “Stay here. You’ve done your part. This isn’t your fight anymore.”

Half of you wanted to protest, but you knew he was right. You’d never killed a man. Tricking someone into stepping onto a land mine was not the same as pointing a gun at their head and pulling the trigger. The end result may be the same (one maybe a bit bloodier than the other): a dead man on one’s conscience, but it was easier when you could turn away.

They all went their separate ways, some disappearing into the brush, others making for the house to see if he was waiting it out there, leaving you alone, half hidden behind the bushes and the trees, nothing but the beating of your own heart for company.

Your breathing was too loud. Your breathing was too loud, and when you looked down at your hands, they trembled. You balled them to fists. Hide. You had to hide, tuck yourself away so that nobody could find you. Dropping onto your knees, you shimmied yourself in between two bushes, letting the leaves fall around you, making for excellent cover.

The one downside to this was that you were completely blind to what was going on around you. You had expected noise; gunshots, shouting, engines roaring, but it was silent. So silent. Every rustling of leaves made your heart speed up, for you were certain that somebody had found you, somebody was coming for you, somebody was going to kill you–

And then it would be dark again and silent. Oh so silent.

After a while, it became too much. The pressure. The silence. You started to understand why the Shelbys liked having other people around, why those evenings of party and drink were so popular; it was to forget, to forget the events of the day, possibly forget everything if only for just a few hours. Clambering out of your hiding spot, you inched towards the edge of the forest, to try and catch a glance of what was going on.

Nothing. From the house came nothing, no shouts, no bangs. From the forest around you–nothing. You breathed out, letting it last, trying to get your nerves under control.

You would be fine. No one would find you. No one would hurt you. Tommy would kill the remaining Pinfield brother and he would come get you and you would go home. And then you would be able to leave Small Heath, leave Birmingham, once and for all.

Like a mantra you repeated it in your head, over and over, to keep yourself from running out there and finding the remaining Pinfield yourself. If you muttered it often enough, you found, you could even convince yourself it was the right choice.

You would be fine.

From behind you, there was a slight rustling and a grunt, and you exhaled in relief. “Did you find–”

But you were stopped short by two big hands clamping across your mouth, and you let out a muffled scream. Your own fingers instinctively shot up and clawed at the hands, but whoever it was that had got a hold of you was strong and wasn’t planning on letting go.

“Scream, you little fuck,” spat a coarse voice close to your ear. You struggled, tried to wriggle yourself from his hold. Panic seared through you in white-hot bolts and your eyes were wide, darting around to try and see your attacker as well as find a way out. “So you killed my brother, eh?” grunted the voice, and your insides turned to ice.

Nothing could ever have prepared you for this. Nothing could have prepared you for the scorching terror that burrowed itself in your very bones, seeped into your brain, made all rational thought impossible. Instead of going limp, you doubled your efforts to free yourself from his grasp, ripping and pulling and scratching and biting.

“You fucker–I’ll fucking kill you–” He was trying to stay quiet about it. Your feverish brain took that as a sign that someone was close by–within shouting distance, at least.

So you used all of your strength to yank your mouth free from his hand and scream. Scream as long and as hard as you possibly could; no words, just a blood-curdling shriek. A split second later he was back on top of you, more urgent this time, grunting as he tried to get his hands around your throat.

His fingers pressed into the soft skin below your chin, and only a few seconds later black spots started dancing around your vision. You gasped for breath, and, encouraged, he dug his thumbs deeper into the pressure point. A rock dug into the back of your head, and you concentrated on that pain, letting it flow through you, forcing you to stay awake. Fighting to stay awake.

But he was strong, and his knees were on either side of your hips, effectively pinning you to the ground. He was pushing harder and harder–breathing became more difficult by the second, and your grip on his wrists was slackening. You blinked furiously, but your vision was blurring. This was it, you thought. This was it.

And then a gunshot rang through the air. The sound was distant to your oxygen-deprived brain, but you heard it nevertheless, and for a second you feared the bullet was meant for you; but the fingers around your throat loosened, and Pinfield, who had been pinning you down just moments before, now froze and then dropped like a sack of potatoes.

He fell on top of you, and in a last attempt to free yourself you managed to roll out from beneath him, where you lay by his side, chest heaving with coughs and eyes screwed shut. You were vaguely aware of something warm and sticky on your face, clinging to the skin of your neck, your clothes, but being covered in blood was probably the least of your concerns.

Right now you focused on the fact that you were alive. You were alive, and the scorching breaths you sucked in proved it. Your head swam after being almost asphyxiated, and shaking fingers came up to brush the tender skin of your throat. Those would become bruises later.

You vaguely registered someone shouting your name, and a second later they dropped to their knees next to you. You opened your eyes, blinked hard, and slowly Finn’s face came into view.

He was paler than you’d ever seen him before, brows knotted together, lips pressed in a tight line. Only in the back of your mind did you note that he was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in Small Heath. But a gun lay discarded behind him, and that’s when you realised it was Finn Shelby who saved your life.

He was saying something. His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear the words he spoke and you closed your eyes again, rubbing your hands across your face. “Wait,” you slurred. Your tongue felt like lead. Too big for your mouth. You coughed again.

“… you not to go. I fucking told you not to go, you idiot,” he was saying in a sharp but shaky voice, and when he helped you sit up his hands trembled.

“I just almost died. You don’t get to swear at me,” you said, but your voice was barely audible and you doubled over once more.

Despite everything, Finn laughed–jerkily and weak but a laugh nevertheless–and you smiled too, letting yourself fall forward into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I’m covered in blood,” you mumbled into his coat.

“What?”

You pulled away. “I’m covered in blood.”

Finn shook his head. “Not yours, so I don’t care.”

That’s when others started to appear–Johnny Dogs first, along with a few of his men, then Tommy, who immediately ran towards you and started questioning both you and Finn, barely paying any mind to the body lying, like, maybe two feet away from him. When he had quickly inspected you for any serious wounds and was satisfied, he whacked Finn on the back of his head, but he gave a small, tight smile too.

Finn helped you stand up, and didn’t let you go until you got to the hospital.

The nurse dabbed at your cuts with a cotton wad dipped in alcohol, and it stung. Sat on the edge of the hospital bed, you didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you kept them folded in your lap. You’d gotten mostly cleaned up; your ruined clothes were thrown in the trash, and all the blood had been washed off your face and arms. You had needed stitches for the cut on the back of your head–scalp wounds bled like crazy–but overall you had gotten away mostly unscathed.

Finn was fine, too. Shaken up, but fine. He’d explained to you on the way back how he’d talked Isiah into following Tommy’s car from a distance, and had just made his way through the forest to the mansion when he’d heard you scream.

You watched him subtly on the other side of the room where he sat with his arms crossed. He met your eyes and smiled tightly, and you stuck out your tongue, which caused him to laugh, which he tried to hide with a cough. The nurse gave your cheek a pat and you looked at her again, blushing slightly. She shook her head, but her eyes glittered.

When she was done, she packed up her stuff and said, “There’s nothing that really warrants a stay at the hospital, honestly. The neck will bruise, but you’ll be fine. Go home, get some rest, come back in two weeks to get your stitches removed.” You nodded and she left.

Finn brought you your coat, and together you stepped outside into the gloomy streets.

Though it was grey and overall a pretty sad day, you found you didn’t really care anymore. If anything, the glum weather had started to grow on you, and you were starting to appreciate some of its aspects. Sometimes. It didn’t beat a nice sunny day on the countryside, but for now it would do.

“So what now?” asked Finn after a moment of silence.

“What d'you mean?” Your voice was still hoarse, and the nurse had told you that it would be for a few days.

“You know. Are you–will you leave Birmingham?”

You had the money. The six thousand pounds from Tommy’s first job. But the more you thought about it, the more you found you didn’t really want to leave. Your flat was shit, but you could finally afford a better one. You had your shop. No one wanted to kill you anymore, which was good.

And of course there was Finn.

“Nah,” you said nonchalantly, kicking a pebble from your footpath. “Nah, I think I’ll stay.”

He immediately perked up, and a grin lit his face and you laughed. He was so predictable. “Good,” he said in a valiant effort to conceal his excitement. “That’s good.”

You would later vigorously blame it on your still-woozy brain whenever Finn brought it up, but in reality you had never thought more clearly. Maybe it was a rush of confidence, or just that you were done with the tension always hanging between you and him.

Whatever the case, you tugged Finn into an alleyway out of view from the streets and kissed him.

It was fireworks. It was the clear sunrise after a long, stormy night; it was everything you had not even dare hope for. Above all, it was worth everything it had taken you to get there. You could have done without the almost-dying, but none of it mattered now, temporarily erased from your mind by pure bliss.

“I’m staying,” you whispered against his lips, your arms around his neck.

He laughed, pulling you closer. “For me?”

You rolled your eyes, even though he wasn’t wrong. “Sure. For you.”

“There’s a contract forbidding our contact, Y/N,” he teased. “You demanded it yourself, remember?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Oh my god. Fuck the contract.”

“That’s not very professional of you.”

“You know what else isn’t professional? That fucking hideous haircut of yours.”

He laughed, a full-fledged laugh that bubbled from his throat and rang like the sweetest of music to your ears. “You’re never going to let that go, are you.”

“No. Shut up.” Shut up. And you kissed him again.

#finn shelby x reader #finn shelby fanfic #finn shelby fic #peaky blinders fic #finn shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby peaky blinders #finn shelby peaky blinders x reader #finn shelby one shot

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italianfish · 4 years

Text

Here’s some things that I’ve overheard recently

- Michael Jackson part 1, before he came around

- That’s a sexy gauge

- We have cones in our eyes??? *Turns to friend* Show me your eyes.

- What’s ROYGBIV? Is that a person?

- I put the jewish inside of him

- The air in my house is polluted with sleeping pills

- One day someone will react to my gay jokes

- One day someone brought a tub of ice cream out of their backpack in the middle of class

- Hey Francis (Talking to a blow up alien)

- Why do you like assholes

- Aladdin doesn’t have nipples

- Support your own god damn neck!

- I saw my friend in the bathroom and he gave me orange juice

- FORM THE EQUATOR!!!

- Yes, indeed my good sir

- Sharing your wealth is the way to become poor

- I’m sorry I don’t have calcium in my body

- Why the pancreas?!

- I watched this show and these characters exploded and it was my favorite show

- Someone is going to lose a pancreas

- A: Don’t lose your pancreas B: I’ll try to hold onto it

- She knew how to multiply! And I was like “You’re only three!”

- Come on Moser, hitting the nut won’t do anything

- I work with a prostitute

- I love crunchy pancakes

- You are a big neon doof

- Look I can spit, I’m cool now

- ‘Ay! Trout!

- In her free time she did her taxes

- Hey! You like Raisin Bran?

- If you get a rooster you’ll be hungry, unless you eat him

- It smells like Hawaii

- If A claims he’s a god and Jesus says he’s the son of god... Does that mean Jesus is A’s son?

- We managed to convince our sub that this was a film and lit class so we watched infinity war all period

- A- So let’s keep the duck B- It’s a vulture...

- Did you just call me fuzzy?

- I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on

- He looks like a punk rock jazz drummer

- A- British! British! B- I HAVE A NAME!

- Stop putting your dog in the oven!

- Did you expect it to be that good of a cactus?

- I relate to Squidward so much

- He was like the dad that left to get cigarettes and never came back

- We’re literally following Marty Mcfly

- My elbows are funky fresh

- A- You shank em’ B- No! That is the exact opposite of a solution!

- Unicorns caused global warming

- A- No balls in class! B- But we’re in health

- The crazy chellos are back

- See! I do have friends!

- It’s a train, a train of love

- A- Why do they keep getting rid of the babies? B- I don’t know, abortion

- You have to earn the bucket hat

- My friend brought in 7 bucket hats

- Hide the forks!

- The turtles tried to cross the road once

- I’m scared of turtles

- So does everyone just carry a sword around in their back pocket?

- When you’re fishing, anyone in a bucket hat has authority

- She has cheese on her hook!

- Are your knee pits moist?

- Why are you molesting me with water

- I was born vaccinated

- I was born to be a little spoon

- Why do I look like a hispanic man

- Can I tickle your knee pits?

- You’re going to get eaten by the ocean

- A- You’re a hot mess B- Hey! At least I’m hot!

- They’ve developed a handshake! Isn’t this a problem?!

- We’re in the OG thirteen colonies

- A- I’m not used to seeing those big grassy structures B- You mean trees?!

- My name is bagged milk

- You only drink bagged milk once, in Canada

- It’s not expensive, you’re just poor

- I forgot I’m a lady

- That’s you after I poop

- I want to be Brazilian

- I figured out what the voice was! They’re playing Bingo

- A- Do “coo coo” B- CAW

- It’s probably in a nice aisle, aisle 9

- So inside the bag there are 3 more bags full of milk

- Mom we got the bagged milk

- He told me I looked like Nicholas Cage

- Her bio says inhale the kale

- I feel like an easy bake oven

- The bags just like, left

- But what about the unicorns

- Look at that potato! That looks free!

- Everyone! Find a piece of metal and lick it

- I’m the toilet man

- Go fetch me grapes

- All girls want to molest this

- He ate a whole pancake out of an Applebee’s dumpster

- Why did he eat turf

- I’m on a mission to find dairy products

- I was going to go to school and pretend to be a witch

- Remember when you put the lotion in my mouth and I drank it?

- We’re playing quarter baseball

- Pretend you’re sleeping

- The ultimate frisbee association

- My mom picked me up from school so I could go to ultimate frisbee practice

- They got a $2000 grant for a barely existing ultimate frisbee team

- She’s ultra mom

- The dodgeball guy called my friend a walrus

- We did a dramatic reading of an adult novel

- He was buying materials to make a whip

- Grate her down like a piece of cheese

- We sat in a circle and named our most Jewish quality

- 4 is the cosmic number

- I hate being a fertile woman

- Excuse me I’m Jewish

- Surprise disco duet

- I shook like 7 tents

- She’s the strings teacher, we keep her in the basement

- Whenever we finished a test and we said “I’m done” he would say “I’m done! You’re finished!” his last name was Done

- I thought the fire hydrant was a turkey

- I asked him if his password was like an anniversary or something and he said “It’s the date of my grandparents death”

- He gives us weekly quantum physics lectures

- Bruh! That looks like a lunchbox!

- No offense but this guy would make out with a floorboard

- You seem like the kind of person to kiss a floorboard

- You sound exactly like my pediatrician

- Lots of poop, no sock

- She’s not doing her work, she’s looking at Peppa pig

- Yo neighbor, I need some sugar

- White moms are really easy to scare

- Even though it’s part of Asia, ITS NOT

- Why was there a hanging waffle?!

- I got complimented on my croissant

- You can sell your liver

- Bernie Sanders reminds me of a muppet

- WHY IS THERE A HELICOPTER IN THE KITCHEN!!!!

- What are you going to do? Hunt squirrels?

- *A bunch of AP students shouting “Linguini”*

- I got bitten by an iguana in Aruba

- We got an actor to join the hammock group chat

- Say goodbye to your ovaries

- I’m half a butt cheek away from death

- Are you one of those people who puts ice cream and pop tarts in a blender

- Yo! You got any shoes I can eat???

- That’s how you segregate your trail mix???

- He has a six pack of ribs

- I’m so done with books about African children

- Do homies kiss

- I’m here for the num nums

- Don’t touch my pizza you savage!!!

- HURRY UP AND MEDITATE

- What are you for Halloween? Jewish?

- Do ducks have tails

- He was the one that broke the constitution

- Oh god now there’s Hitler on my paper

- God given right of ruling... Manifest destiny in China

- Do you shampoo your eyebrows

- This isn’t Bayblade!

- Bob Ross wasn’t an artist, he was an art therapist

- If anyone on the team is a jellyfish, it’s definitely Brandon

- It’s your fault that I’m not going to college!

- I’m having spinach for dinner! I’m so excited!

- I locked him in his toolbox

- Let’s rent a midget for a day and we can throw him against a wall

- I know how to utilize money, but do I know how to utilize it well, that’s another question

- Man, that place needs a Chick-fil-a, and I’m going to make it

- We should have the purge in school one day

- If you’re weird enough, people won’t want to rape you

- Flex seal it with tape

- Oh yeah, I got vinegar all over my sweatshirt

- Don’t say “Have a good day”, because I’m not having a good day

- Well maybe someday you’ll have cancer

- What’s up guys, I’m from Richie’s pizza, and today I’ll be showing you my body count

- An obo sounds like a clarinet with Down syndrome

- I DONT HAVE ANY MARINARA SAUSCE ON ME RIGHT NOW

- WE WILL SMUGGLE OUR KIDS TO AMERICA

- I’m the jolly black giant

- You pissed off a priest

- If we get a lot of money, I can take her boyfriend to prom

- Ted Bundy would share a lot of ideas with you

- They’re doing a milk experiment... But with marinara

- A- That’s not a color! B- But it’s on a crayon!

- Hey what’s up cheese goblin

- I’m letting my toes breathe

- I’m just saying, tinfoil doesn’t taste that bad

- YOURE EATING IT YOU UNGRATEFUL SWINE

- When I was away were you in my house? Because it’s happened before

- How do you say I have scoliosis in Italian?

- I’m gonna give give birth to a duck, right here, right now

- Are you comparing a 3D printed violin to genocide

- I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST BLACK PEOPLE

- Brother from another mother, TELL ME ABOUT THAT

- I’m a vulture, just vulturing

- I’m going on a field trip to the sewage treatment plant on my birthday

- You’re making my vagina angry

- Competitive Just Dance team

- Oh no there’s spaghetti falling out of my pockets!

- (Yoda impression) Take anger out on minorities I must

- I can turn off the lights and you’d still be white

#overheard #i just overheard #conversation #funny #funny conversations #haha #long post

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devilbat · 5 years

Text

Fall🍂, in Love

Warning: fluffiest fluff. Lol and implied smut

Loki x reader

A/n: this one was fun to write. I thought it was adorable. Please leave me loves, comments and reblogs I really do appreciate you.

This was you four date with the infamous god and reformed villain, Loki. Even after everything, the torture he went through and the abandonment he had felt. He was still charming and kind to you. You had meet him while walking you English Mastiff. When the dog found it fun to pull you down the park, going after a squirrel. You trying hard to get him to stop. With you intow running over the god knocking him down. Which caused you to trip, let go of the leash. Luckily the squirrel climbed the nearest tree, which had the large beast barking and jump along the base of said tree. It had to be these more sexiest man you ever laid on top of. If it weren’t for the fact you were cute he would have despised you. Though he did make you squirm a bit. But after a billion and a half apologies. It earned you, your first date with the devilishly handsome stranger, that same day.

After that, Loki asked you to dinner the following night which ended in a movie. You found out his love for classic horror movies. Third date was dinner in the park a week after that. He had set up picnic under the stars. Nice thing about Loki, he could used his magic to keep you warm from the cold crisp air. That same night as he walked up home. Were the first kiss you two shared. Ok, so maybe not the first one, it was more like the first make out. Now the fourth date was at your house, with the two of you making dinner together. Something cute, as he never really done anything like that. When Loki told you all about himself. Finding it cute on some of the more Midgard things he like, Like pizza.

Glass of wine in hand you set everything up. Letting the dough set up a bit before Loki arrived. Getting all the toppings set on the countertop. Music played low from the tv in the next room. Candles lite up the rooms. Dimly lit over head lights set the mood. You wanted this date to go off well. You were still a bit nervous about having him over. Sure you may have had a few other intentions on where and how this date was going to end.

You were set now all you needed was a tall raven hair god to show up. Which should be now. And like clockwork there was a knock on the door. Once the door was opened, you were greated with a lovely arrangement of autumn flowers, burnt orange lilies, vibrant Red roses and golden yellow daisies. Making your heartbeat faster. At this rate you house would be littered with flowers. Each date he had gifted you the most amazing bouquet of flowers. He knew how to make a girl feel wanted. Holding on to you hand, as you went to take the flowers. He leaned in to kiss your cheek. A small hum vibrated in his throat as he did.

"Darling, you look ravishing." Loki smiled, before pulling away. Following you into the house.

"Thank you. You don't look to bad yourself." You teased, setting the flowers down on the island of the kitchen. Loki wore a black dress shirt with black slacks. His normal go to just with out the suit jack and tie. A few more button undone, showing far to much flesh. At this rate the other buttons may be join them. Let alone you lick what skin was exposed.

Handing Loki an apron. The two of you got to work rolling out dough. Loki was struggling a bit as he kneaded the next set of dough. Watching Loki beat the dough made you giggle. He look like he was killing whatever beast the dough had become. Loki paused to softly glaring at you. His face had streaks of flour here and there.

"And what's so funny, dove?" Loki questioned, looking back down at what he was doing.

"Oh nothing," You giggled again. "It looks as if you are slaying a fowl beast." You stepped over next to Loki. "You need to be gentle, knead it not beat it. Think of it as when you are knead, fondling a woman breasts." Reaching your hand over to the beaten ball of dough, showing him. Never noticing the mischievous smirk on Loki's face. "Like that." You pulled a why a bit.

"So like this." Loki purred as both his hands moved to tenderly knead your breasts. Making you squeak in surprise. To say his large hands did not feel amazing on you, would be an understatement. Though it was not what you wanted him to be kneading at this moment in time.

"Loki!" You half moaned half hissed. Your hands smacked lightly on his. Making the god chuckle. "That was not exactly what I meant, but yes like that." Pulling his hands away from you. No matter how hard you didn't want them to leave. Beside leaving you wanting more, he left large flour handprints on your apron.

"Ah, all right." Loki nodded, smirking again. Going back to working on his dough. You had already finished with yours and was letting it raise. "Darling, I think I need a little more help." Without a real warning, Loki pulled you over to him. Trapping you between him and the counter. His chest pressed against your back. Kissing your cheek before whispering. "I think your guidance is much needed here." Placing his hands over yours, his fingers laced with yours. Rolling pin placed into you hands.

You started moving the rolling pin back and forth. You body moved along with the movement your hands made. And well so did Loki's body. Which started having a mind of its own. Loki groaned behind your ear. Causing your body to shiver. Loki losing all that was left of his focus, he started placing kisses up and down exposed skin. All along the back of your neck and shoulders.

"Loki focus." You giggles wiggling around not thinking it would do more damage.

"That's. Kind. Of. Hard. With. You. Bumping. That. Cute. Ass of yours." He murmured, in between heated kisses. His left hand releasing itself from yours. Only to plant itself on to you backside, with a hard squeeze. Leaving another floury handprint on your black skirt.

"Oh my god." You hiss, rolling your eyes. Looking over your shoulder at him.

"Why yes I em your god. I will have you kneeling, praising me before the night is through." He growled into your ear, before nipping at it.

"I kneel for no one." You teased, throwing a bit of flour in Loki's smug face. Which was the wrong move on your part. He was a god after all. A god that would invade, conquer you without hesitation.

"You know little mortal." Loki pause moving his other hand from yours. "You shouldn't start a war with a god, when you know you can not win." He flipped you around, facing him. His hands on either side of the counter pining you. His lips were on you before you could protest. Kissing you hungrily. Pulling away from you lips. "You were made to kneel." His lips ghosted over yours. Before you knew what had happened, cold flour dusted down the from of your top. You squeaked at the sudden movement.

"Oh it’s on, your majesty." You hissed, patting his cheek with a handful of flour. Slipping from under his arms. You moved behind him. With a loud smacking sound on Loki's very firm, very nice backside, was now covered with your floury handprint. "Hmm, you know I think the left side needs to." With out finishing, you grabbed a handful of Loki's right cheek. "Match the right side." You pulled away to admire you handy work. "Much better." Loki had yet to move, with a dark chuckle which came from behind you. You realize Loki used his clone. Pinning you once more against the counter top, facing him. "That is so not fair."

"What is it you mortals say. Alls fair in love and war." Loki cooed into your ear. His hands kneaded into your ass roughly. His lips moved to yours, kissing you fiercely. You moaned against his lips, giving him access to invade you mouth with his tongue. Loki had you pressed into him hard. You could practically feel ever tone muscle in that gods body. He body was beyond godly.

Loki finally pulled away from your lips leaving you breathless and swollen lips. Looking up at Loki with doe eyes. You hand moved to the countertop for balance. Your head turned fast looking over towards the dough you and Loki were working on. It had doubled in size. It was like watching the cult classic movie, the blob. It slowly oozed over the edge, ready to make its dissent down to the floor.

"Looks like the yeast got just as excited as you." You laughed, moving in Loki's arms to move the blob of dough back on to the countertop.

"Are you sure about that darling." Loki purred, pushing himself against your back. His entire body hard as a rock pressed along your body. Nothing and I mean nothing was soft on him.

"Loki, Like the movie the blob, I'm hungry and if I don't eat. I may just eat you.

"A sacrifice I'm willing to make. I surrender my body, for you to feast upon." Loki Offered himself up arm stretched out to the side.

"Oh so you finally surrender to the more superior race." You snicked knowing your words would restart a 'war'. With a low animalistic growl, you found yourself in your bedroom. Being tossed like a rag doll on to your own bed, with a yelp. White puffs of flour dusted around you. Loki pounced on you like predator on his prey, before you had time to move.

"You. Little mortal, are a brave one. Taunting a god. Teasing him. Starting thing you know you cannot win." Loki kissed along your jawline and neck. Nipping his away along your throat.

"Loki, what about eating dinner?" You moaned. You hands securing their place tangled in Loki's raven hair.

"Oh I plan on eating. My little mortal has made me very famished. I plan on devouring my dinner." Loki hummed licking bits of flour off you collarbone. "Your 'other' dinner will have to wait, until I had my fill with dessert."

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#loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki x y/n

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new-endings · 4 years

Text

The Nice and Accurate Guide to Courting

Ch. 1; ao3

Chapter summary: in which Crowley learns and yearns.

“And in reality, it was probably here where Crowley fully and undeniably faced the ill-tuned music that he fell treacherously and helplessly in love with the Principality Aziraphale— who wanted nothing more than peace and was willing to marry off the prince to one unlucky and unhappy Archangel to achieve it.”

Step 2: Gather Intel:

The castle wing generously bestowed to Crowley and the rest of his Legion was lavish in its towering ceilings and ornate tapestries; pristine in its Heavenly whites and creams and the dutiful servants keeping offending grime away; and above all—it was spacious. Wide and echoing. Fit for royalty, one might say. So, it was quite understandable how it really chafed away at Crowley’s (remaining) patience (and sanity) to find Hastur and Ligur squirreled away in his quarters.

Again.

Yes, he understood that they may be his footmen, but this was also precisely why Crowley tended to “disappear” for hours (even days at a time) in his own abode in Hell’s Kingdom.

Crowley paid little heed to Ligur’s scrutinizing gaze as he approached the attached study; to do so would show weakness before his subordinates and that was a decidedly unwise thing to do given his current position.

The position being smuggling another one of Hell’s scarce literary publications for his Guide’s reading pleasure.

But it was Hastur that broke the silence with a sly grin and a meaningful look as he eyed what was in Crowley’s hands. “Another tome, Prince Crawly?”

Well. Some greeting to your Prince. Crowley shot him a scowl. “Another remark out of you and you’ll crawling back to Hell.” Nevertheless, Hastur looked nonplussed as always so Crowley shrugged; he’ll get back at him later for that. “Besides, this is payment,” he protested. More so for the Angel’s delightful company than any real progress in his princely responsibilities, but they needn’t know that bit.

“Payment to the Guide assigned to you by the Queen herself?” Ligur added with a derisive snort. “Ah yes, what a great boon to have this queer Bird in our midst.”

“A Bird in hand is worth two in a bush,” Crowley assured. Not that he would even entertain the absurd notion of replacing Aziraphale as his Guide. “Nothing wrong with a little encouragement.”

Ligur was decidedly unconvinced. “You two spent the last week traipsing about every fine eatery in this God-be-damned Kingdom. I think he’s plenty encouraged.”

“Ah, but perhaps not in the manner the Prince would like?” Hastur said with gleaming eyes.

Crowley didn’t outwardly flinch. Of course he didn’t. “He’s—” lovely to be around. “More than entertaining—”

“But not quite like the rest of your toy soldiers, eh Your Highness?” Ligur remarked with a sneering curl of his lips.

“Certainly treats him better than his own lot!” Hastur supplied with a chortle, sneaking a conspiratory smirk at the other. “Looking to nest with this particular Bird before gettin’ shackled to the old ball and chain?”

And that’s when Crowley decided he’d had enough. “Bah. No need to be so crass.” He waved the insinuation off, wishing he could do the same to the twin annoyances holding in snickers and rude gestures at his expense.

It really wouldn’t do to have them meddling in his personal affairs.

And yes, his blooming—whatever it was he had with Aziraphale—was most definitely personal.

Crowley cleared his throat. “His company aids in getting accustomed to being flocked by other Birds.” A bit of a lie, but what’s the harm in that?

Aziraphale was hardly like the others. He was an oddity, certainly, but a rarity with his unabashed enthusiasm towards his indulgences, his general love for his comforts and all matter of life around, the soft glow about him, such a stark contrast from the lurid light and air of sterility the others exuded.

But that was why Crowley liked him so much. He gave a brief hum. “Though I suppose I am curious.” And a grain of truth to really throw them off— “Why, indeed, send such a queer Bird to sort me through this whole mess.” He’d meant the question to come out—detached. Perhaps just a bit pensive. But it didn’t. “Out of literally anyone else.” It came off rather hopeful, wishful.

Apprehensive. It’s not so often that my luck happens to turn out all right. Makes a Demon all sorts of anxious, Crowley thought.

Thankfully, it seemed neither of the two picked up on it. “If he can put up with the likes of your company, why not? Besides…” Ligur eyed the tome in Crowley’s hands. “He’s certainly got you on your best behavior.”

There were several responses Crowley could have chosen. He could have denied it of course, playing deeper into the Demons’ hands at his own expense. He could prove them wrong—which in all intents and purposes would have been the more entertaining option, especially if he could pin the ensuing trouble he’d been itching to cause on to them. Or he could have played the Royal Card—remind them of exactly who they were serving: rotten branch of the Royal tree or not, Crowley was their Prince—at the cost of letting them know deep down, that perhaps yes, maybe Crowley did care a bit more for his Guide than what was probably, Demonly, comfortable.

Instead, he opted for a scoff, a one-worded rebuttal, and a suave saunter as he exited the room. “Nonsense.”

He had no remark, however, for why he took the tome with him as he headed off.

He was already late in meeting Aziraphale as it was.

Why was it that whenever one was late, it couldn’t be for a few seconds—or even a few minutes?

Some impassable obstacle just has to miraculously (or cursedly, really) manifest to snowball a small hindrance to an entire ordeal.

And that entire ordeal came in the form of a balding Bird with an insincere smile, just outside his quarters. “Prince Crowley, if I could have a moment of your time?” Crowley frowned all the while and didn’t relent his pace. “I couldn’t help but overhear, Your Grace—”

Right. The halls echoed, after all.

Crowley did his best to pay it no mind, already picking up his pace, legs widening their stride. A scan to his side and—yep. It*** was following him. Fuck. After a tick or two of silence, Crowley sighed. “Our people have long lost Her Grace—no need to address me as such.”

“Right. Of course,” it replied easily. “Sandalphon, Prince Crowley,” it greeted, though it did not offer its hand as customary for other Birds. “You have questions, I’m to understand? About the Principality Aziraphale.”

That gave Crowley pause. “Principality, you say?” His Guide? The book-hoarding, sweets-loving, sunshine-smile Aziraphale— a warrior?

Birds often didn’t give Crowley a good feeling—save Aziraphale, of course—but this one was particularly unpleasant. “Indeed, but by title alone.” Crowley didn’t like the way it seemed far too excited to share whatever it had to say: “His ranking—is…In a dubious state.”

And there it was.

Crowley gave it an unimpressed look. “Is it now.”

Unfortunately, the Bird was simply undeterred. “Oh, yes.” It nodded, almost somber. “He was an absolutely adequate warrior. Lead his own platoons during the wars past—”

“Aziraphale?”

Crowley knew he made a fatal error from the wide grin spreading across its face. It leaned in, whispering low. “He even served as Archangel Gabriel’s subordinate.”

It all suddenly clicked into place. So that’s why he’s so familiar with the Archangels.

This was…indeed quite valuable information. But even then—Crowley couldn’t see it. Aziraphale obviously didn’t want war—seemed to be wholly devoted to the cause of keeping peace between their kingdoms—at least, when Crowley wasn’t purposefully distracting him with little gifts payments and banter. He had thought that perhaps the Angel had been too soft for war; he never considered the possibility that perhaps he was softened by it instead. Still, it wouldn’t do well to have a little chinwag with someone so eager to defame his Guide. Especially with a being that knew full well his relationship with Aziraphale.

The professional one, anyways.

And Crowley had to remember to keep playing that part. “Well, it seems they brought the right person for the job, then,” Crowley responded, almost testily. He knew what the Bird was baiting him for, but Crowley wouldn’t comment on the status of Aziraphale’s title. To do so felt like a betrayal to his Guide—and to do such an incredibly thoughtless sort of thing that would no doubt place Crowley far from Aziraphale’s good graces.

Not that Sandalphon needed encouragement in the first place. “Oh agreed, Prince Crowley. It’s certainly a mutually beneficial little arrangement. Well of course, Aziraphale has everything to gain from it anyways.” This Bird was more than content to sing like a canary. It gave a wheezy chuckle. “Probably begged the Queen herself to allow him some task to prove his worth to her again.”

Crowley made a show of rolling his eyes and heaving an exasperated breath. “Are you content to prattle on about another Angel’s business to anyone who pays you mind?”

It backed off, raising its palms in an inoffensive manner. “I’m merely giving you some insight!” It gave another slimy grin. “You asked a question, after all.”

And damnit all questions were always Crowley’s favorite weakness. He gave one, hard look at the Bird before relenting, carefully keeping the uninterested façade. “All right. I’m listening.”

“Rumor has it—” It gave a cruel smile. “—that he was dishonored and stripped of his flaming sword. And no one knows why—save for the Queen and Aziraphale himself.”

There was a beat of silence before Crowley’s resolve further buckled. “A flaming sword, you say?” he asked evenly.

And how Crowley detested that wicked sheen in its eyes. “Yes. It flamed like anything.”

Again—quite a bit to take in. There were several methods and modalities available at Crowley’s disposal to respond to this influx of information. He could very well give a curt nod and leave it as is—allow the Bird to believe he ruminated the information for a moment—just a moment—before tossing it away as just a fanciful fact. He could very well thank the Bird for the interesting intel, perhaps even bait the being into telling him more—but honestly, even the offhanded thought made Crowley’s stomach churn in a way that wasn’t even remotely pleasant, so that was obviously off the table.

So, wisely, Crowley settled for a derisive snort. “Ah. Must have been impressive, especially to give such a dangerous weapon to a pacifist,” tone disbelieving, uncaring. “But if he no longer has it, then this information really serves no purpose to me. I’d be more concerned were it the case that he possessed such a weapon and used it in an untoward way against myself or my Legion.”

“Err…I suppose…” It responded cautiously, perhaps unknowing of whether or not to be affronted by the utter disregard for what it had known to be reality-shattering knowledge.

And perhaps—in a way, this information was.

But it would take a lot more than hearsay to change how Crowley felt about Aziraphale. “And you say these are—” He gave it a scrutinizing look. “Rumors, is that right?”

Sandalphon startled. “Well, they may be rumors, but—”

“All baseless drivel when it comes down to it.” Crowley huffed.

It must have known Aziraphale cared more for peace than winning an expensive, horrendous disagreement for power. It didn’t matter that in times past that the Angel was out there in the bastions and fortresses, armed and ready to lay down his life for this useless struggle.

To add a bit of insult to injury, for his Guide’s honor, Crowley added, “Is that everything you wanted to say?”

Who he is now is all that matters.

The Prince made a show of rolling his eyes when he was met with a beat of silence. “And to think I believed you to have something useful to tell me.”

And right now his Angel—his Guide—is waiting for him, waiting for Crowley. And damn it all, Crowley was really late!

“I—” it stammered.

Crowley turned, continuing his way as he gave the Bird a wave of dismissal. “That is all.”

It was quite easy to turn tail and head away from that blathering Bird and its rather rude insinuations towards Aziraphale—

But it was quite different to get away from what he’d learned. Rather, it was impossible to unlearn and unlisten to the implications. Not particularly aimed at Aziraphale, and not even the insinuation aimed at their…well.

Work relations, as it were.

Besides, it normally wouldn’t bother Crowley to hear that he was just an assignment—a woefully accepted obligation—he’s been used to that all his life. But what did bother him was that this didn’t seem like Aziraphale at all.

Granted, he’d only known his Guide for a little over a week—but Crowley prides himself in being an excellent judge of character.

Which was precisely why it seemed like this Angel was the only being he’d ever truly felt drawn to.

He didn’t know everything about the Angel, but he felt like he had one of the most important basics down: the Angel loved his comforts. He loved his fine wines and lazy afternoons, cozy reading nooks and buttery pastries. He hardly seems like the type who’d thirst for blood for his scorching, battle-ready blade. It was quite like a adding a tomato to a fruit salad: you know it’s a bloody fruit, but it doesn’t quite fit the description, nor fill the role.

The thing about these niggling thoughts, however, is that the harder one concentrates on not thinking about it, the harder it becomes to ignore. And it’s hardly Crowley’s fault—that stupid Bird brought it up—and even now, with Aziraphale regaling to him of the Archangel Gabriel’s penchant for fine clothes—the question burned at the back of his tongue. So, Crowley did the only thing a Demon could do in a conundrum such as this:

Yield to temptation.

“Say,” Crowley interjected. “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”

Aziraphale sputtered to a pause, a fragment of Fraisier slipping off his fork. “I—I’m sorry?”

“Yeah,” Crowley ventured, carefully casually. “Heard it flamed like anything.”

Aziraphale blinked, absorbing the words but not quite extrapolating its meaning quite yet. It’s fine. Crowley can wait.

He was prepared for the awkward silence and unrelenting tension that would no doubt follow. He was prepared for the Angel to deny it, lie with a flushed face and a nervous titter, and attempt to redirect the conversation. He was prepared for the Angel to sigh, soulful and deep, and ask who told Crowley. But Crowley, in his careless preparation to the consequences of opening this particular can of worms, forgot one, vital thing:

This was Aziraphale he was talking to. “I—I, well—uhm!” Prone to flustering. “That is…” And prone to being thrown into a prickly, nervous frenzy. “It’s—it’s hardly any of your business now!”

And prone to vehemently reprimanding Crowley about what should and should not be said in a public restaurant.

Crowley took a wary glance about them; most of the patrons and staff scurried from the Prince’s glare. He really ought to have chosen a better place to spring a question like this. “Angel—”

But it looked like Aziraphale was getting ready to leave—to flee.

And that was not something Crowley was prepared for at all.

“Angel—Angel, wait!”

But in a heartbeat or two, he’d vanished— strawberries and cream left unfinished.

Crowley supposed Aziraphale couldn’t be that mad. He didn’t fly off into the sunset leaving Crowley as just a sulking mote of dust behind him, after all. No, instead he simply chose to ignore Crowley as the prince helplessly, and hopelessly, trailed after him like an offending lover, ready to swallow his pride after a tiff gone awry while the Angel stomped all the way back to the castle.

“Slow down, you bloody Bird,” Crowley groaned and miraculously—

He did. He stopped right in his tracks and sat down on the stone bench overlooking the pond.

Crowley sagged against the garden bench, finding that while he was content to call out after the Guide, he wasn’t quite ready to lay out everything he felt like he should say just yet.

The prince cast his gaze to the scenery instead. The pond before them mirrored the vibrant pinks and indigos painting across the sky; the bustle of the castle and its inhabitants sounded so far away from behind the towering walls, encasing the sliver of paradise with silence and solitude.

Aziraphale had led them there, Crowley realized with a start, with the intention of talking without interruption and witnesses.

Beside him Aziraphale scoffed. “Really, Prince Crowley, to approach someone with such a personal inquiry in such a public area—”

“For the last time, Angel. Just call me Crowley.” He looked over to Aziraphale, seeing the mounting trepidation on his face and stiffness on his shoulders. But he was trying to keep the conversation open and he wasn’t running—that was better than what Crowley could hope for. “And better my asking than the other Birds,” Crowley countered. “Squawking behind your back, telling tall tales and spreading rumors—”

A pause. There went that nervous habit again. “Oh. So, you’ve heard from—one of them.” Soft, plump hands, tugging and straightening the whites and creams of his robes; delicate fingers and manicured nails, not meant to brandish swords and spill blood.

Hands Crowley wanted to take in his own, hold them still and feel those fingers curl and intertwine with his instead. “Not by my choice, mind you.” But Crowley didn’t. “The balding one—bit of a slimy fellow—”

“Sandalphon.”

“Yes, that one.” Aziraphale was avoiding his gaze, resolutely staring off into the still waters before them. Crowley swallowed and thought that at the very least—the Angel deserved to hear the truth. “Started raving about your title, or well lack thereof, and—” Quietly, gently, though it was easy enough for Crowley to say. “I didn’t believe it.” Because it was true. “Not the important bits anyways.”

There was a quick, darting look towards him and Crowley uneasily shuffled closer, facing the Angel fully.

“I know you’re a Principality—that seems to be common knowledge amongst the other Birds. But I don’t think you were stripped of your honor like that.” That response garnered him a questioning look. “At least—not for the reasons anyone else could think of.”

“What…what makes you so say that?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley hated them all for making is Guide sound so unsure.

He gave a chagrined smile. “Do I really have to say it?” He blew a noisy sigh, hoping to ease the ascending tension with petulant humor. “You’re an Angel.” No, not like them. You’re better than the others. “I don’t think it’s actually possible for you to do the wrong thing.”

Whatever reaction Crowley was hoping for with a response like that, he certainly wasn’t prepared for the heartbreaking disbelief and awe in those Angel eyes.

“Crowley…” Neither was he prepared for that something in the quiet, tender way Aziraphale gasped his name—

—that made Crowley want to dive straight into the lake to douse the turbulent flood of warmth that sank its fangs straight into his chest, squeezing the bleeding organ with its lovely thorns.

Crowley coughed, suddenly finding his throat dry and chest pounding. “Well, my theory was that you probably didn’t even want a war in the first place—and there’s really nothing wrong with that.” Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit oh FUCK THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING— “After all this war business is utter rubbish, I tell you. About damn time we made actual efforts in forming a proper treaty. Not that I completely agree with the modality they’ve chosen to enact in the name of armistice, but—”

“I GAVE IT AWAY!”

The thorns squeezed tighter. Crowley could barely let out a wheezing, “You…what?”

Aziraphale looked absolutely wretched.

And Crowley wanted to kiss that expression right off his beautiful face.

“The sword. The one given to me by the Queen.” The Angel raised his arm to gesticulate something before giving up halfway, letting his hand fall to his lap. “Oh, what was I supposed to do? Our platoon did our best to minimize the damage, but even then, that battle absolutely decimated that village! There could have been all sorts of terrifying beasts out there, not to mention marauders and the like with their defenses gone!”

“…What?” was Crowley’s ever-intelligent reply.

Aziraphale fortunately took that as a Please, do go on, I’m ever-so-intrigued by this turn of conversation and not at all finding myself at the brink of despair at the horrific realization of my own stupid emotions.

“So I thought, ‘Well, they need it a lot more than I do right now’ and I told the village leader Take it, don’t bother to thank me!” He rubbed his hands distractedly, frantic anxiety bleeding into his voice. “And—and, the magic on it should only protect them, it shouldn’t be used to start any—”

“You…gave your sword away. The sword given to you by Her.” Crowley’s heart was hammering now, driving the pinprick points deeper, yet it did little to calm the stone-drop of cold dread at the pit of his stomach. “To protect some vulnerable people? Angel…” That’s wonderful. You’re wonderful, you foolish, lovely git. “Well, where is it now?”

“In…” The Angel floundered, gaze darting to his lap again. “In a quaint village. Hopefully nicely repaired and thriving by now.”

“Well, go get it then!” Yes, please, let’s go—run, run far, far away— “Put an end to the rumors—stick it to Sandalphon’s grubby little face—”

--far enough that maybe then these feelings won’t reach you.

“It’s…not so easy,” Aziraphale answered apprehensively.

“Come now, Angel. I’ll even come with you—like one of our day trips!” Crowley himself was already warming to the idea. It was like a little adventure. Like seeking a lost treasure—a real one! Clearing the Angel’s name, off to conquer the Nosy Gossips of Heaven’s domains, to slay the evils of shit-talking— Prince Crowley and Principality Aziraphale—

Crowley and Aziraphale--

And maybe Crowley did want that. Maybe he did want to go off with Aziraphale, forget this Prince and Guide rubbish for just a while, escape to a small pocket in time where titles and responsibilities didn’t exist. Just them two, and a grand, old adventure laid out for them both. There were surely lots of places to see. It’s a great big world out there, just out or reach from the two borders of their respective kingdoms. The Other Side, where the maps ended but the skies continued on.

And where other lines blurred completely.

But. Baby steps. Crowley reigned himself in again, despite the frenzied beating in his chest. “I mean, you’ve been wanting to show off Heaven’s charming little towns—”

“Erm…” Aziraphale was starting to look panicked again. “That’s the thing.” He gave an anxious little smile. “It’s…not in Heaven.”

Normally, Crowley possessed a fine and rich vocabulary borne of years under strict tutelage all because his mum shacked up with the King of Hell and spawned him in the process. “What?” Today, all those lessons flew out his brain—

“It’s…a bit farther than that.” Aziraphale held his gaze to Crowley’s. “A bit further South, rather.”

—missed the pond completely and smacked straight into the white stones of the garden walls. “Angel…”

“Yes, okay?” Somehow, Aziraphale managed to look even more miserable—and dramatic, by far. “The village—my sword—It’s in Hell’s domain.” He gave an imploring and helpless look to the stone-frozen Crowley. “But shhh please, promise you’ll keep this a secret?” And just like that, he took Crowley’s hands in his own, asking, beseeching, “Just between us?”

Crowley would have confessed to all the Divines in the High Heavens that this was the moment Crowley fell—horrifically, dreadfully, disastrously, and absolutely— in love with Aziraphale. There, underneath the peaking moon and glitter of stars. In a garden, after Aziraphale shared with him his greatest burden—that this Angel had sacrificed his loyalty for love and protection for a people he did not know or understand, for a belief he didn’t know he had in himself.

“Yeah…” Crowley squea—no, no, that was not a squeak damn you. He hastily cleared his throat, covering those soft hands with his own. “Yeah, no worries there.” He met Aziraphale worried eyes evenly and vowed: “I promise. You have my word, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale slipped his hand out of from Crowley’s and Crowley’s stupid brain had the fucking audacity to think the appropriate response to that was to instinctively whine at the loss of contact.

Aziraphale, luckily, did not take heed of this offense. “Thank you…” he breathed, shoulders sagging, as he held his hand to his chest. Crowley wondered if the Angel’s heart was beating just as obnoxiously as his. “And…thank you, for. Well...” If the Angel’s heart mirrored his own. “It’s nice to finally get that off my conscience, really.” The Angel gave a tired laugh, one that didn’t really meet his eyes, one that sank and fell flat on itself. “I always did worry if that was the best course.”

“Like I said, Angel.” His hand came forward, floundering before finding its way to the slope of Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’m not sure if it’s actually possible for you to the wrong thing.” You’re too good for that.

Too good for me, a dark, traitorous thought echoed back.

Crowley would decree that it was here, beneath starlight and Aziraphale’s sunbeam smile that Crowley would embark on the path of rewriting his own stars for a change. He knew that he was endangering his entire Kingdom and the Kingdom of Heaven by choosing Aziraphale, despite his royal obligations— but he’s a risk-taker with a lot of imagination. He doesn’t know how to persuade two kingdoms to accepting his choice—if that could even become a possibility at all.

And if not…

Maybe running off wouldn’t be such a bad option.

Running off—together.

But—baby steps. Firstly, he must start with getting Aziraphale to accept his courtship.

Speaking of which… “Oh! This is for—you.” He reached into his pocket, wriggling the tome out from where it had been jabbing him while he ran after the flighty Bird. “I brought you a little something.”

There was that smile again. “Crowley, this is—oh my…” The one that likely damned him from the start. “It’s lovely—”

Crowley attempted a scoff, though it likely sounded like a sputter. “It’s a rather sad and dreary one, written over a millennium ago by a rather sad and dreary fellow. I thought it’d be right up your alley.” He watched carefully from the corner of his eye, seeking any discomfort from Aziraphale, any sign that the gift was not to his liking, not to his standards, not up to par with what he deserved. “Always preferred the funny ones myself.”

“I’m honored.” But he could find none. Only an excited smile and eyes of far-off skies poring over the text; just the look of an Angel utterly enamored at the prospect of reading a new tale, exploring another world within the confines of word and mind.

And in reality, it was probably here where Crowley fully and undeniably faced the ill-tuned music that he fell treacherously and helplessly in love—this moment where the evidence stared back at him so boldly in his face, that he realized the extent of these rather inconvenient feelings he had towards the Principality Aziraphale—the Principality who wanted nothing more than peace and was willing to marry off the prince to one unlucky and unhappy Archangel to achieve it.

Because damn it he wanted Aziraphale to look at him like that.

And upon accepting that foolish thought as truth, it all came crashing down in that very instant.

Fuck. I love him.

------------------

Fun fact: Sandalphon’s pronouns in the book and script are “it/its.”

Thank you for reading~

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #top crowley #bottom aziraphale

32 notes · View notes

randomly-random-jen · 4 years

Text

Trust in Your Heart

a The 100 fanfic

I originally wrote this back in April 2017 and started editing it in June 2018. Not sure why I never got around to finishing the edit or posting it.

Canon-divergent with the Ark never coming down, leaving the 100 on their own through the winter. Bellamy is on a mission, and Clarke isn’t totally sure she can trust his motives. But she knows she can trust him with her life so that has to be enough. At least, that’s what her heart is telling her.

3,834 words | [PG-13]

Clarke digs her fingers through the newly upturned earth, picking out rocks and other debris. They have onions and potatoes to plant. Across from her, Finn smiles, but then his expression darkens as a shadow passes over her.

“Hey,” Bellamy says, “I need your help with something.”

“Help with what?” she asks without so much as a glance at him.

“I found what looks like a cache of medical supplies. But I’m not sure if any of it is worth bringing back.”

That gets her attention. She cocks her head, the sun behind him, blinding her. “The stuff would be well over a hundred years old.”

He shrugs. “It was sealed up pretty tight.”

Clarke pushes a strand of hair off of her face. If the cache was sealed like the Art Supply bunker, the stuff inside could still be good. And even if the meds have gone bad, there might be other salvageable items or equipment. The hair falls back into her face, and she tries to blow it away. Unsuccessfully.

“How far away is it?”

“It’s a bit of a walk. We probably won’t get back until after dark.”

She stands up, wiping her hands on her dirty pants. “You think it’s worth it?”

He nods. “We barely made it through winter. We need all the help we can get.”

Of course, he’s right. It’s pretty much what they argued about all day yesterday—she wanted more help with planting; he wanted more help securing the fence. “Okay,” she says, wiping the strand of hair away again. “I’ll grab my bag.”

She’s filling bottles of water when Finn finds her a moment later. “You can’t seriously be going with him?”

“Why not?”

“Because yesterday he was talking about burying you with the potatoes.”

Clarke snorts. “He was just being Bellamy. He’s not taking me out to the woods to kill me.”

“You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

Are they really having this conversation again? She stuffs the bottles into her bag, counting to ten to regain her composure. “He’s kept us alive all winter. I trust him.”

Finn looks shocked. “Him? Bellamy? You trust him.”

“He’s not going to do anything. We’ll find this cache, I’ll check it out, and we’ll come back. Life will go on.”

“Then let me come with. I can keep an eye on him. And you won’t have to deal with his bullshit alone all day.”

“You ready, princess?” Bellamy calls from the gate as he adjusts the strap of his rifle over his shoulder.

Finn gives her a look that says, “See what I mean?”

“It’ll be fine, Finn. I can handle Bellamy.” Clarke stares at him until he gets the picture and leaves. She sighs.

“Ready?” Bellamy asks when she joins him at the gate.

She glances over her shoulder at Finn standing stiffly next to the dropship. “Ready.”

He doesn’t say anything else as they set off. In fact, he doesn’t say anything for a good half hour as they work their way east through the woods, avoiding their own traps. The sun doesn’t penetrate as far under the trees and the breeze cools the sweat on her back, making her shiver.

“How far away is this cache?” she asks, pulling a bottle of water from her bag.

“Getting tired already?”

“No.” She takes a sip and hands him the bottle.

“Then what are you worrying about.” Bellamy walks away with a smirk.

Sometimes she can’t stand him—he’s just as annoying and arrogant as when they landed. Hurrying to catch up, her foot slips, but Bellamy catches her easily.

“You okay?” he asks. She looks down at his hand still wrapped around hers, and he quickly drops it like she burned him. It’s hard to rectify the apparent disgust with the look of concern in his eyes.

It’s pointless to try and figure him out—she learned that a long time ago. “I’m fine,” she says, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants and ignoring the tingle his touch always causes. Sometimes she hates him for the way her body reacts. The way his stupid grin makes her heart trip. Or the way the butterflies flutter whenever he calls her “princess” in that amused tone.

“Come on,” he says softly, “We still have a ways to go.”

Overhead, birds call out the beginning of spring. Squirrels dash from tree to tree, collecting their stores from winter. One scurries right in front of her. Clarke stumbles to a stop and watches it shoot up the tree next to her where it sits on a branch chattering angrily at her. Clarke starts to laugh, but then her eyes drift down the trunk to a symbol carved in the bark. A chill runs down her back.

Bellamy notices her and stops. “You coming?”

She looks from the tree to him then hurries to catch up. “We’re close to Tondc,” she whispers.

He swallows. “I know. It’ll be fine. Just keep your eyes open.”

Her eyes do open, bugging out at his nonchalance. “The grounders will kill us if they see us.”

“We’re not going to get close enough to Tondc for them to notice.”

Clarke is suddenly on high alert. Every snap of a branch or crunch of leaves makes her heart race.

Bellamy squeezes her shoulder. “Clarke, relax. I’ve hunted here dozens of times. We’re safe.”

She gives him a bewildered look. He laughs then pushes the stray strand of hair behind her ear, making her tremble. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” She blinks at him, confused by the change of subject.

He licks his lips as he pulls his hand away from her face. “Do you trust me?”

She frowns. After everything they’ve been through—even as annoying as he is—she knows in her heart that he’d never let anything happen to her. Not on purpose. She nods, locking eyes. “I do trust you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Okay. Then let's go.” He walks backward a few steps, taunting her. When she rolls her eyes and follows, he turns around with a chuckle.

She thinks about throwing a handful of mud at his head but decides it’s a little immature. Sure enough, the veer away from the grounder village a few minutes later, heading south along the dry riverbed. Bellamy seems to be in better spirits. In fact, he seems downright giddy. Which just raises Clarke’s suspicions. He’s up to something. She knows he’s not taking her out here to kill her, but she’s starting to doubt his story about the medicine.

“How much farther?” She stops to take another drink.

He slows then comes back. “Not that much. Maybe twenty minutes.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to decide what his angle is. “Did you see what kind of medicine there is? Names on bottles or anything?”

“I told you it was sealed up tight.”

“Then how do you know there’s medicine in there.”

He cocks his head. She arches an eyebrow and waits to see what answer he pulls out of his ass. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly like dealing with her takes all of his patience. “Probably something to do with the giant red cross on the side of the container.” He swipes the bottle and drinks nearly half of it before handing it back. “Any more questions, princess?”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“No.”

God, he’s so irritating. She mumbles a few choice curse words under her breath that would make her dad cringe.

Bellamy leans over. “What was that, princess? I didn’t catch it all. Something about performing certain acts on myself.”

She shoves him. “Shut up.”

He smiles back at her. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that ignites little fires in her stomach. When he looks at her like that, it makes it hard to breathe. She quickly turns away so he won’t see her blush.

It’s actually more like thirty minutes before he points to her right. “This way. Almost there.”

She’s pretty sure she isn’t imagining the excitement in his voice.

He stops at a wall covered in moss and vines, a stupid grin on his face.

“Bellamy-”

Then he pulls back the vines, and she realizes it’s not a wall. A set of steps descends into darkness. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He pulls a flashlight and battery-powered lantern from one of his bags. He hands her the flashlight and skips down the stairs, stopping halfway to look up at her. He raises his hand. “Come on, Clarke. You said you trusted me.”

His face is shadowed, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice that kills her. She takes his hand, and he helps her maneuver over the crumbling stairs. The lantern illuminates a ten-foot circle around them. Clarke sweeps the flashlight over the large room. Bellamy doesn’t let go of her hand as he winds through centuries-old debris. They come to a rusted metal turnstile. Bellamy easily hops over it then helps her across. More stairs lead them into what she realizes is a subway tunnel.

“This way.” His voice echoes against the concrete walls.

They inch along a ledge above the tracks that are covered in filthy water. Clarke tries not to think about what might be in the water. Or what is making the squeaking she hears. The farther in they go, the more nervous she gets. She shines her light on the arched ceiling far above them. The Cracks criss-cross the concrete, vegetation growing through some, others dripping water into the flowing stream below.

“Bellamy, I don’t know about this.”

He holds up the light so she can see his face. He looks completely calm which helps her relax some. “It’s not that far, I swear.”

He starts to walk again, but she doesn’t move, causing him to stop. This isn’t right. Why would they store a cache of anything in the subway? She sighs and drops his hand. “There’s no medicine is there?”

It’s a long time before he answers. “No.”

Her heart races—the darkness closing in on her. “Then why are we here?”

He licks his lips. “I want to show you something.”

“In the subway?”

“Yeah.”

She tilts her head, trying to see his face through the shadows. “Then why the whole story about the cache?”

He lowers the light, blocking her view of him. “I didn’t know how else to get you to come.”

He sounds so small. She’s not used to thinking of him as anything but completely in control of everything. It’s a little unsettling to see him so unsure. She takes a deep breath and points the flashlight at his chest so she can see him without blinding him. “You could have just asked.”

He stares at her for a long time. “After yesterday, I didn’t think you’d come.” He looks away, biting his lip.

Clarke lets out a breath. “We had a fight. We fight all of the time. It’s kind of what our entire friendship is built on.”

His head snaps back around. “We’re friends?” he asks, still with that small voice.

How could he not know that? “Of course we’re friends.”

He watches her for a moment. She wonders what he’s thinking. Then he turns and disappears into the darkness. Clarke glances around, heart pounding.

“Coming, princess?”

She hurries after him. Up ahead the darkness falls away some. Bellamy ducks under some tree roots growing out of the wall. Clarke does the same then stops with a gasp. They’re in another station. But this one is completely different. Every inch of it is covered in graffiti. But not the occasional anti-government slogans she’s seen tagged on various surfaces. This is completely different. She finally moves into the space. The floor has some kind of three-dimensional art drawn so it looks like a waterfall is pouring into a tropical lake. It’s actually kind of disorienting. The background extends partway up the wall behind it, but then someone else painted over it with an elaborate fantasy-scape. A few feet away is a swirling curling lettering that spells out LIVE LAUGH and the L of another word. But it’s also been covered up with a giant broken heart drawn anatomically correct. The entire room is covered in overlapping designs that must have been painted over years. Decades. Maybe the entire century.

Bellamy is sitting on the steps in front of a collapsed wall that must block the way to the surface. Even the rubble is painted. His smile reaches from ear to ear and lights up his eyes. “You like it?”

Clarke spins, trying to take it all in. “It’s amazing. How did you even find it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he hops up and hands her the lantern. “I saved the best for last.” He nearly stops her heart as he starts scaling the debris up to the ceiling that’s at least twenty feet above them. She can’t see him anymore—he’s lost in the shadows. Then suddenly the entire space is flooded with sunlight. Clarke throws up her hand to block the light. Bellamy jumps down and comes up behind her. His hands on her shoulders send shivers over her entire body. Either he doesn’t notice or ignores it. He turns her towards the tunnel. The wall across from them is also painted in a mix of designs. She’s amazed at the talent.

Bellamy leans close, his breath warm against her ear. “Look up.”

She tries to ignore the tingling down her neck as she looks up. Her breath catches. The entire ceiling of the tunnel is covered. But not in the tagging or random art of the walls. No, it’s covered in a giant copy of Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night. It’s breathtaking. Water drips onto her shirt. She blinks and realizes it’s tears. Bellamy steps away from her, practically bouncing.

“I knew you’d like it.”

“I don’t even know what to say. This is-” She can’t stop staring. The attention to detail is inspiring. “God.”

“There’s one more thing,” he says, pulling her attention away from the ceiling. He beckons her toward him.

She goes without hesitation now, trusting him completely. He steps over to where an old tarp is hanging haphazardly from some rubble. He grabs the end and yanks it down, exposing a section of wall free of paint.

“What-”

“I thought you could add your own mark to this world. Don’t worry, I didn’t destroy any of the artwork. The tiles had already fallen when I got here.” He pulls something out from behind some scrap metal. “You’ll need this.” He holds out a box, opening it. Inside are jars filled with colors. “I got the charcoal and pencils from the Art Supply Store, but the paints took some time to figure out. The red was easy from the berries. The green and yellow took a little longer. Then I just started playing around with all of the plants and rocks I could find for the other colors.”

She can hardly tear her eyes from the jars. There are paintbrushes, too—all different sizes. Some look hand made. She picks one up, running her fingers over the soft bristles.

“Boar hair,” he says.

The whole box blurs as the tears escape. “You did this for me?”

He swallows hard. “I know you like to draw.”

She finally looks up at him. “This must have taken forever. How long have you known about this place?”

He gives her a crooked smile. “A few weeks. I found it while hunting.”

She bites down on her lower lip to keep it from quivering. She has to wipe vigorously at the tears before her cheeks dry. “I don’t know what to say, Bellamy.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

He puts the paints down then takes her shoulders, turning her towards the wall. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She stares at the blank wall for a long time. She can hear Bellamy on the other side of the station, rummaging in the junk. She has no idea how long she just stands there. She’s terrified she won’t think of anything to paint. She’s not even sure she remembers how. She looks around at all of the other art—people leaving their mark as Bellamy put it. All different styles and subjects. Her eyes drift back to the Starry Sky—it’s always been one of her favorite paintings. When she looks back at the wall she instantly knows what she wants to paint. She picks up the charcoal and starts sketching.

She draws and paints until the sun sets. Bellamy brings over the lantern and stands behind her. “What is it?”

She brushes flakes of dried paint from a grouping of trees. “It’s the story of us. Of the one hundred since we landed. Or it will be when I’m done.” She points to a boxy shape at the top.

“The dropship,” he says before she can.

She nods. “This is the river and the tree where we found Jasper. Here’s the garden already growing.” She reaches out and touches the yellow in the center. “The fire in camp.”

“This is me,” he says softly, pointing at a face taking shape over the dropship. There are other faces, but his is the most complete. She’s not sure why. No, that’s a lie. She knows exactly why.

Bellamy swallows slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

She’s suddenly aware of how close he’s standing—of the heat building. She kneels down to collect the paints and wash the brushes in the water he collected from a crack in the wall. “It’s nothing,” she mumbles. “Not compared to-” She nods at the ceiling.

He’s watching her when she stands. He doesn’t move or say anything for a long time. She resists the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. Or run. Then his hand moves slowly to her face. He brushes that same strand of hair behind her ear and runs his finger over her cheek, rubbing away what must be paint. Clarke can’t breathe. She can’t move. Can’t think. He steps closer. And closer.

“I’m glad you like it, Clarke,” he whispers. The way her name rumbles in his chest sends a tingle coursing through her body. When his other hand reaches up to cup her cheek she realizes he’s trembling almost as much as she is. He leans his head forward but hesitates. She can feel his breath against her lips. Her whole body vibrates with anticipation, but he doesn’t move. She suddenly gets it—he’s waiting for her to close the distance. He’s scared.

Well, Clarke is terrified, but she moves anyway. It only takes a fraction of an inch before their lips brush against each other. His are cracked but soft. He tilts his head slightly, his thumbs rubbing across her cheeks. Her heart might beat right out of her chest, and her entire body is on fire. Just when she thinks she can’t take another second of his touch, he pulls back. Only an inch and leans his forehead against hers.

“Clarke-” His voice is rough and catches in his throat.

She’s done talking. She slides her fingers into his hair and pulls him down. This kiss is firmer, the tentativeness of the first gone. Bellamy’s arms wrap around her body as he presses her closer. Then one hand slides up her spine to cup the back of her head as he deepens the kiss.

She gets lost in the kiss—it’s like none that she’s had before. It’s like the sun shining on her for the first time, filling parts of her she didn’t know were in the shadows. She’s lost all concept of time. There’s only her and him and their lips. Bellamy finally pulls away, panting. His hand slips from her hair, trailing down her cheek. His thumb runs across her swollen lips. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

When she forces her eyes open, his pupils are completely shot and his hair is sticking up at odd angles. She bites down on her lip, trying to keep from smiling because this is supposed to be some kind of serious moment, but he looks so damn adorable. He cocks his head, his expression faltering. She runs her fingers through his hair, straightening it about as much as you can. She looks back at him, his face blurring as the tears fill her eyes again. The intensity of his stare threatens to burn a hole through her. To turn her to ash. Melt her into a puddle.

He’s still hesitating, uncertain. She leans forward and kisses him again. This time slow and careful. His touch is tender when he runs his hand down her side. He pulls her so close, she’s not sure where she ends and he begins. This kiss is even better than the last because it says so much more than, “I want you”. There’s more to it. There’s love.

The thought makes her gasp. Bellamy pulls back, probably afraid he did something wrong. The tears building in her eyes again probably won’t help dispel the idea. She holds him tighter, burying her face in his neck. He breathes her in. Clarke hasn’t ever felt this way. A few hours ago they were arguing about food and she could barely stand to look at his smug face. Now she can’t believe how she lived without him this close. Her stomach flips as another thought hits her. “Bellamy, I-” She catches herself before she can say the words because it’s ridiculous. There is no way she’s falling in love with Bellamy.

He tangles his fingers in her hair. “Clarke-” That’s all he gets out. There’s a loud bang from down the tunnel. They jump apart and Clarke feels silly for feeling like they were doing something wrong. Bellamy shoves his hand through his hair, his breathing ragged. “We should get out of here—it’s late.”

Clarke agrees. She hides the paints behind the rock while Bellamy shimmies up the crumbled wall to cover the hole in the ceiling. Then he helps her cover the painting with the tarp.

When they get to the ledge at the edge of the station platform, he turns and plants a quick kiss on her still-numb lips. She’s glad he turns away quickly so he doesn’t see the full-body shiver. He twines his fingers with hers and guides her out of the tunnel and back into reality. Because Clarke is still trying to decide if what happened was real or if she imagined it. Maybe there were sewer gases down there that made her hallucinate.

She touches her fingers to her puffy lips and knows that it was real. She kissed Bellamy Blake. And she liked it. She definitely plans to do it again.

#fanfic #the 100 fanfic #bellamy/clarke #bellarke fanfiction #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #learning to trust is hard #canon-divergent #takes place sometime after season one but without all of the war #just some fluff #first kisses #falling in love

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minah-delacroix · 3 years

Text

At any price (part V)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah, Sungjae, Tyler, Tara, Ashleigh, Daniel, Jane, Mark, Jaehyun

Word count: 2 k

Wilde

“Minah, we’re about to leave, come down now or you will have to drive yourself to your grandparents’” Tara warned from the foyer, where Jane, Jaehyun, Daniel, Tyler, Mark, and herself had been waiting for the Delacroix heiress for what it seemed to be an eternity —though Mark had pointed out it’d only been fifteen minutes.

“For God’s sake, calm down, T. I’m all ready” Minah spoke and all eyes turned to look at the top of the stairs, where she had made her appearance looking like taken straight from a runway, clad in a sexy Elie Saab crop top and short skirt ensemble of glittering burgundy sequins. A Stella McCartney fake fur coat rested on her shoulders and covered her bare arms up to where a pair of satin gloves hid her skin.

Everybody looked pretty much ready for the party, but the moment Minah stepped in, her friends suddenly looked underdressed or paling in comparison. Not even Jane’s see-through dress posed her much competition and even Jaehyun seemed to have sucked in a breath the moment Minah finally made it down the stairs.

“Wow, you look-” Tyler’s mind ran through a litany of adjectives from gorgeous to the cliched stunning, but when he eventually picked one Daniel was speaking for him.

“Overdressed” He deadpanned.

“You’ve never read Wilde, right?” Jane threw a nasty glare at the man and slid a hand in the crook of Jaehyun’s elbow, pulling him forward till she was close enough to wrap her free arm around Minah’s shoulders. “You look amazing, your grandfather is probably gonna pop a vein” She reassured, slightly pushing her friend toward the door.

Laughing, Minah hoped her grandfather would rather ignore her presence. One of the benefits of attending an event in a property bigger than a stadium was that avoiding people was not supposed to be that hard of a task.

Minah was about to let Jane drag her outside the manor when Tyler cleared his throat. She broke from her friend’s hold and spun to face him, her smile vanishing when she took notice of how handsome he looked. She paused to look at him from head to toe. Tyler wore a black suit with gold details that caught the dim light of the entrance hall and gave him some sort of god-like glow. She had a brief recollection of standing in front of him at the winter ball of Le Rosey when they were teenagers and she had to gulp when she realized the frisson of electricity waving through her did not exist in high school.

“Is there a problem?” Minah asked, not knowing what else she could possibly say. Tyler laughed shaking his head and enjoying the confused expression on her face, he took her hand lightly into his and lead her to the limousine waiting for them.

Tara and Mark followed them, but before walking through the threshold the woman turned around, looking at Daniel inquisitively

“Why are you standing there? Aren’t you coming?”

“What did Wilde say?” He asked, as though Tara wasn’t looking at him with thinly veiled annoyance etched on her face.

“A good friend will always stab you in the front?” Tara offered, her face softening a bit as she spoke.

“No, babe, I think Jane meant, you can never be overdressed or overeducated.” Mark corrected his girlfriend as he slid an arm around her waist.

As Daniel slipped into the car and took the only available seat between Jaehyun and Mark, he thought to himself that Tyler’s little sister and Oscar Wilde were right. Watching Tyler practically wrapped around Minah, acting as though he would’ve kissed the floor she walked on really felt like a stab.

Closing doors

After briefly watching the garden's decoration —including the 25-feet tree that was supposed to be lit up at midnight— and having Tara gush about how the Delacroix Manor could as well fit the description of the fairy palace of some fantastic tale she’d been told as a kid, the group of friends split up in different directions. Tara and Mark met up with some of their college friends and were dragged by a very excited Arabella Black to greet their old classmates. Jane and Jaehyun had been summoned by Jane’s aunt and they were trapped in a business conversation with Minah’s great-aunt Adelaine, and Daniel had bumped into some old flame —or at least that was what Tara said— as soon as they set foot in the patio. That left Minah and Tyler walking into the Delacroix Manor on their own.

The first thing that caught their attention was the large group of children dressed in outfits that resembled terribly the unmistakable Vienna Boys' Choir uniform following a very stressed-looking man that Minah recognized as the bursar of Wiener Sängerknaben through the foyer.

“Don’t tell me, your family-“ Tyler scoffed in disbelief.

“They’re an NPO, they need help with their expenses and my family has the money to waste on ridiculous things like trees and flying a team of fifty people from Austria.” Minah said unapologetically, “Besides-“ She blocked Tyler’s way to stop him from walking further into the house “It sounds hypocritical coming from a man who has his own patissier and eats food engraved with his family’s coat of arms” she teased. “Not to mention the girls who offer to undress him before a bath like servants from the fourteenth century” She added, moving to the side and leading Tyler through the spacious hall where waiters served glasses of port and offered cocktails exclusively created for the occasion.

“For your information, I don’t need to pay anyone to undress me” Tyler replied defensively “And besides, they only offered because I told them you were a princess and they took it literally,” he said cheekily, giving Minah a lopsided smile.

Minah was so entertained that she didn’t notice Sungjae and Ashleigh arrive.

____

It was nearly midnight when Tyler managed to save Minah from a boring conversation with Countess de La Condamine, an avid gossip better known as Radio One France. The middle-aged woman had been passed down a fortune almost as great as the Delacroix’s, but she surely lacked their manners and class, so when Tyler rang Minah from across the room, she sighed relieved to have an excuse to avoid answering questions about who the handsome man with Jane Durand was or why the granddaughter of Madame Amelia Wu was dating the son of Korean immigrants.

“Took you long enough,” Minah said moving through the crowd, her phone still pressed against her ears and her eyebrows raised judgmentally.

Tyler laughed on the phone “I thought I would let you have some fun before interrupting” he also started working his way through the crowd to meet Minah halfway.

“As much fun as one can get being interrogated by the Gestapo” She scoffed on the other end of the line.

“So, tell me, Miss Delacroix, what’s the best spot to watch the Tree Lighting?”

“Meet me at the staircase, I know the best spot for it”

——

“Welcome to my hidden refuge,” Minah said ushering Tyler into a spacious suite on the top floor. The room had a sloping roof and huge floor to ceiling windows that gave views over the extensive gardens of the manor. Though the place was as equally elegant and expensive-looking as the rest of the house, there was a certain relaxed vibe to it. Tyler thought to himself that it had a lot to do with the plush sofas in pastel colors arranged opposite each other in front of the fireplace, where flames flickered. Or maybe it was the Christmas tree decorated with cute animals like owls, deers, and squirrels or the fact the suite smelled like a mixture of pine and lilies that reminded him of Minah’s room in the winter campus of Le Rosey.

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for so long and this is the first time I’m watching how the Delacroix kick off Christmas season” Tyler commented, admiring the scene through the window.

“Hey, here’s to new traditions” Minah handed him a glass of scotch and held her own glass up high.

“To new traditions” Tyler repeated, toasting with a flourish.

Minah watched delighted how the Christmas lights were progressively lit up throughout the garden, offering quite a spectacle. Meanwhile, people started to gather around the patio as the Tree Lighting neared.

“This couldn’t get any better,” Tyler said, watching the hundreds of golden lanterns lighting up across the courtyard.

“Oh, no, believe me, it does” Minah pulled open the French doors and lead Tyler to the narrow balcony that reminiscent of the Parisian Haussmann buildings, was decorated with low, wrought-iron railings painted in black. “It’s the best view to the gardens”

“Not to mention I have the prettiest girl in this party beside me” The corners of Tyler’s mouth curled up, making a soft laugh escape from Minah’s lips.

“Oh, shut up”

“Make me” Tyler closed the space between them, enjoying the feel of Minah’s skin as he slid his hands around her waist. She tipped her head in return, showing her neck for Tyler’s lips to attack. The next bit seemed quite inevitable, but then, the distant sound of a giggle and moaning caused Minah to push Tyler so abruptly he nearly fell on his bottom.

Minah mindlessly rushed through the balcony and Tyler’s voice floated behind her as she turned the corner, trying to stop her. Whether he could anticipate the scene that was about to unfold in front of them or not, it was already too late when he caught up with Minah. She’d already caught Sungjae and Ashleigh having sex in what once was supposed to be their secret spot.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” Minah’s jaw dropped open “Whatever happened to setting boundaries?” She could only hear the words fell past her lips as though some stranger was speaking for her because her attention was focused on the way Sungjae was still gripping Ashleigh's hips and all of a sudden images from the past four years flashed before her eyes. His lips pressing into the skin of her neck, lips eagerly making their way down her body, the way he whispered love phrases into her ear. The weight of the memories was enough to make Minah gasp for air, as if some invisible force was preventing her from breathing.

“This is not what it-“ Sungjae began.

“Wait, does this mean you two used to do what we were just doing up here?” Ashleigh questioned, eyes on Sungjae as she tried to hide behind him.

“Every year before the Tree Lighting Ceremony” Minah shook her head “This is my house, I’ve marked my territory all over this roof” She stated shamelessly, although she could barely keep her voice even.

“Is that why you brought him up here?” Sungjae glared at a spot behind Minah, which she assumed was where Tyler stood.

“No!” Minah denied with a scoff.

“Why do you care?” Ashleigh asked covering her scrawny figure with Sungjae’s shirt.

“I don’t” Sungjae replied defensively “It doesn’t mean anything”

At this point, Minah was surprised there was no steam escaping her nostrils. Feeling anger wash over her, she let out a forced, vicious laugh.

“Yes, he is right. It doesn’t mean anything” Minah picked Ashleigh’s polyester top from the floor and something that she recognized as one of Sungjae’s many black blazers “Clearly nothing is sacred anymore”

“Minah-“ Whatever Sungjae was planning to say, he didn’t because Minah turned around and threw their clothes over the railing.

“I should’ve listened to Tara when she told me to close the door on you” Minah inhaled sharply, walked through the balcony’s doors, and shut them close in his face, securing them from inside. As she turned around she could hear Sungjae’s voice calling after her, but surprisingly enough all she could think of was that she needed to find Tyler and head back home.

...

#oc #dynasty au #minah #sungjae #story #tyler #tara #mark #jaehyun #ashleigh #jane #daniel

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issabakugodrangeel · 4 years

Text

9 Dorks SKZ 10th Member Au

Summary: Lisa meets the boys and gives Chan her answer

Warnings: none

Lisa’s P.O.V

After talking to Chan about him letting me in the group. He wanted me to meet the other members before I make up my mind. He told me to get ready at 7PM and gave the place they’re eating at.

Of course, I made sure to shower and dress casually. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I was never really good at being in groups and making friends. I've always been independent.

I looked up my phone and it read 6:40 PM. Decided to leave my place early just too see who the other members look like. I doubt they'll like me tho. I don't look anything like them.

-----

It's a good thing I left early there was an accident around the corner, slowing people down. By the time I made it to the restaurant, it was already 6:58 PM.I texted Chan saying I was here and he would meet me in the front door.

"Hey, glad you can make it." He opened the door and had a huge smile on his face, like the one where he told me that he wanted me in his group.

"I did promise I'd showed up didn't?" I told him walking in.

"You did. Come on, the guys are waiting." His hands told me to follow him. He lead me to a rounded table were I saw 8 other younger males. To be honest they were all pretty cute now, I'm questioning my sense of fashion.

"Guys, this is Lisa, Lisa this is the boys." Chan introduce me. They all were looking at me. "Um, Hi." I bowed down to them feeling a little nervous. "Hi." they all said bowing down as well. For some reason I had this good vibe coming from them like I've known them my whole life.

I then notice someone familiar. Well they all were I've seen them in building time to time but one stood out to me.

"Felix?!" I looked at him confused.

“Noona!?:" I'm guessing he was confused on seeing me too.

"You two know each other?" One that looks like squirrel asked us.

"Uh yeah, we have private Korean classes together." Felix mentions. JYP thought it would best if we both were thought by the same teacher, since we're both foreigners. JYP also thought it would help Felix more too since he was new too. I didn't mind it, it was just the two of us and we both helped each other outs. At least I know one other person in the group, who doesn’t hate me. I think.

"Anyways you can sit next to me, Lisa." Chan scooted over so I can joined. "Thanks." I smiled placing my bag down.

"Hi, I'm Woojin." The guy that was sitting on the other side from Chris greeted.

"Hi, I'm Minho." the guy next to him winked at me. I didn't think too much of it. I heard from others that he's a good dancer.

"Hi, I'm Changbin dark rapper."

"I think I heard you rap before, you're really good." I complimented him. "Ah! Thanks!" He blushes.

"Hello, I'm Hyunjin."He spoke in english I gotta say his english was good and he was so handsome too. Like god damn, he could be a god damn model.

"Hi, Han Jisung." wow he does really look like a cute squirrel.

"And you already know ya boi Felix." His deep Australian voice always shook me. Like he's 17 and he has the voice of 40 year old.

"Hi, I'm Seungmin." This one also spoke in english well. Damn can they all speak english?

"Hi noona I'm jeongin, I'm the youngest here." He was so cute smiling with his braces. My heart went Uwuw like I need to protect this child at all cost.

"Noona?!! How old are you?" Jisung asked me.

"Oh, I'm a 97liner." I smiled nervously.

"Wow you’re tiny for a noona." Hyunjin jokingly teased me.

"Bro" Felix nudge him.

"sorry." Hyunjin apologized

"It's fine I'm used it." I assured him I can tell he still a bit guilty. I didn’t really like it when people teased me for my height but I’ve grew to get over it.

"Join the club." Changbin took a sip of his drink.I laughed.

"It's okay she can be our big, tiny noona." Minho smiles at me giving me a new nickname.

"I like that." I smiled at the name.

"Looks like you're the same age as me and Chan. Finally another parent to help keep these kids in check." Woojin teased. We laughed.

“EH, wouldn’t be too sure about that hyung. She may be older but she acts like a child sometimes.” Felix corrected I eyed him.

“Excuse me?”

“Last week you were crying because you couldn’t find your airpods.” He chuckles. I frown giving up. The rest of the boys just laughed.

"So, what's the age range here?" I asked after the waiter brought me my drink.

"16-20" Chan pointed out. I almost choked on my drink as they all chuckled. Damn they are young.

"You, me and Woojin are 97lines, Minho is 98, Changbin is 99, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix and Seungmin are 00, and Jeongin here is 01." Chan put an arm around him. What the hell!!Damn I feel old.

"Don't worry Chan and I both feel old too." Woojin giggles. I hope I didn’t say that out loud.

"So, noona, you must be the girl Chan Hyung keeps talking about." Jisung mentions going back to that topic. I'm surprised that he talk about me.

"You talk about me?" I tried to tease him. Which worked cause I thought I saw him blush. He just let out a laugh.

"We-Well, like I said... I always had you in mind to our group. I wasn’t just gonna choose any girl." Chan played with his drink. Does he really think I'm that good. I just smiled.

“Thanks for being my personal stalker.” I teased he froze, causing the guys to snicker. “I’m joking.” I elbow him. He relaxed again.

"Noona, what position are you in for?" Hyunjin asked me.

"Oh, um...."

"She everything, does sing, rap and dance. Oh she also produces her own stuff right Noona?" Felix rambled.

"Bro how do you know this?" Minho questioned him. He froze for a minute.

"Uh, Korean classes duh." He smily says trying to avoid it. Felix is always good listener. We all just shrugged it off.

“Cool, so you write lyrics too?” Changbin asked me. I nod. “But, they’re not the good.”

“Are you serious. Your lyrics are amazing.” Felix points out. A smile appeared on my face. These guys are really something else.

“So, I guess you can be on the production team with Changbin, Jisung and I. we call ourselves 3racha.” Chan mentions. I kinda like that idea. Back in B.A.P the music producers wouldn’t let me or Zelo help out with productions.

"Noon, tell us a bit about yourself seeing hyung and Felix already know you." Seungmin suggested. I nod.

-----

After a few hours pass we all got to know each other very well. It's ironic how we all have something in common. All this time talking we kept on laughing our ass's of seeing much of dorks these kids are. They each showed me their talents and I gotta say they might young but y’all they got talent. I can see why Chan picked them out. He picked the right people.

Since I've been here I didn't have anyone judge me or say something rude about my race. I think it was Changbin that asked my race but they didn't seemed bother by it. Jisung commented saying I don't look Mexican at all lol. To be honest I love hanging out with them. It feels like we've belong together. I haven’t felt this way in such a long time.

"What do you say, Lisa wanna join our family?" Chan asked as everyone locked eyes with mine. At first I didn't know how it'd would work out 9 guys and 1 female. But after today I think if I say no I know I'd regret this. They're a bunch of lovable dorks.

"Say yes noona." Jeongin clapped his hands together giving me the puppy eyes. They all this look in their eyes of pleading.

I bit my lower lip before giving out my answer. I can feel the tension in the air.

I take one good look at each of them. "Looks like I have 9 brothers now?" I brightly smiled at them.

Once they heard my answer they grew huge smiles on their faces.

"Are you saying yes?" Seungmin questioned me one last time.

"I couldn't ask for a better team." I laughed.

Chan placed his hand in the middle as the other's did to I place mine last. "Lisa welcome to Stray Kids." everyone shouted the name of the group as we lifted our hands up and cheered.

"Stray Kids. I like that."

"We all thought about it. We would've waited for you but I was just too nervous to talk to you." Chan admits.

"The names perfect don't worry. Everyone will like it. I'm sure." I was still confused as to why he would be confused to talk to me.

"I always wanted a sister." Minho said. He told me he was an only child so he never had any siblings other than his cats.

"yeah. I feel like having you in our group, I mean family is going to be special." Changbin nods.

“Very special.” Hyunjin points out.

"I promise you guys, I won't let you down." I'll show them the best I have to offer them.

"Don't worry you'll be fine." Woojin places his hand on top on mine giving it a squees.

I then remember about Ryujin her friends. I knew how much they wanted Chan to pick one of them if they find out I was the one he picked my life will be a living hell.

"Noona, you okay? Your face went pale?" Felix raised his eyebrow at me. I can't tell them about what's happening me with them. Since Jisung are friends with them. I was surprised he didn’t bring them up. I don’t know if they talked about to him. I'm new so they probably won't believe me of the things they have done.

"Oh, uh yeah. Actually, can we not tell anyone that I'm the 10th member. I know there were rumors going around Chan looking for a female member and they've all been excited about it so i don't wanna crush the news just yet." I explained to them without telling them that the girl trainees haven't been really nice to me.

They all looked at me funny. "Well, JYP already know who was going to be our 10th member but, yeah we won't say anything." Chan pats my shoulder. Damn he really wanted me to joined that bad huh.

"We should get going it's getting late and we practice tomorrow, I bet you do too." Woojin looked at the time on his phone. I looked at mine he's right.

"Wow I didn't even realize it was getting late." I said surprised.

"Hey, noona can we exchanged numbers to contact you." Jisung asked me. Oh right I for got about that. We need to be in touched now.

"Sure here." I wrote my number down on a napkin and they all besides Felix took our their phones to add mine. I passed my phone around so they can enter theirs. Felix has mine from class.

"I'll text you more info about when we're on the survival show." Chan mentions picking up his coat.

I nod in response as we all got up and bundled up. it was fall time here in Korea and just like Chicago weather it's freakin crazy.

--------

"Is your dorm far from here? We can walk you? It's late after all." Hyunjin asked as being outside.

"You guys don't have too, it's a few blocks around the corner." I pointed to the direction.

"That's where our dorm is too." Seungmin mentions shivering from the cold.

"Come on guys we're walking our noona home." Minho locked arms with me. Taking me on ahead.

"You really don't have too." I tried to protest I didn't want to bother them.

"Nonsense. You shouldn't be walking by yourself out this late anyways. We gotta protect our sister from the bad guys." Chan announced.

“Oh, my knights and shinning armors.” I teased.

"Wait hyung!" Felix shouts, catching up to me and Minho and locked my other arm. I just smiled. What a bunch of dorks honestly. I’ve know I said it so many times but they are.

This is going to be fun!!! I love my new 9 brothers.

Lisa SKZ 10th Member Masterlist

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids 10th member #stray Kids 10th member au #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #Lee Felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin

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