#then like two seconds later i’m reading it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersflashlight · 2 days

Note

Hey, I was wondering g if you could make a sleeping in the dark part 2? If it's okay to ask could you possibly do a chubby!reader?

Crying in the middle of the night in the darkness but the minster comes out to think reader is crying because of the dark. Reassuring her that it's oka and the dark isn't scary but, reader then explains that she wasn't crying because of the dark. The monster gets all confused and asks why she was crying. Reader tells the monster that she was insecure abt her body, then further explains that's she's been being treated badly in her work/school environment by her peers because of her body/looks.

Thank you if you respond, I mean it could be a she part and not part 2 but again, thank you.

-🦝 anon.

Hi 🦝 anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. I really wanted to do justice to this request. As a chubby woman myself, I know perfectly well the struggles of being fat in a society that doesn’t like fat at all. I try not to make any comments about the body of the reader if it doesn’t play a part in the action bc I want ppl to imagine themselves there as they want. Even when the monsters use terms as “little human” think about it like the monster is so big you are tiny, doesn’t matter how big you are in real life. I love a good size difference, so there’s that. I hope you don’t think this means you need somebody to tell you you are pretty, beautiful or hot, because that’s not true, you are all that without anyone saying it. Believe me, as someone who likes boys, girls, and everything in between, fat bodies are hot like burning. But I do get the necessity to hear it sometimes, and this story is born because of it. That said, I hope this is as cathartic for you as it was for me, this short hit really close to the heart for me. <3

Part 1 if you haven't read it

Sleeping in the dark (part 2)

Night monster x chubby fem!reader || orgasm denial || tw: fatphobia

You were, once again, crying in your room, ugly sobs that made it hard to breathe and your heart beating faster. You felt his presence before he could make himself known. “Oh no, little human, I thought we went past the fear of the dark.” His tone was so soft you felt your heart skip a beat.

You sniffled against the pillow, “is not that.” You tried to tell him more, but another sob broke from your chest.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at your statement, like there weren’t any other reasons why you could be crying about. You guessed as a monster in your closet he probably didn’t know much about the horrors of the world. He lived in a bubble of darkness inside your room, after all.

“They- They called me fat,” you told him in between hiccups.

“Who did?” His tone sounded dangerous. You looked up from your pillow, trying to see something in the dark of your room. You could see his silhouette, but nothing else. You wished you could turn the light on, but you didn’t want him to go.

“Some random dude from the office. They called me fat. They thought I wasn’t listening but they called me fat and made fun of me. I thought I was past that, but there’s always someone that reminds me how ugly my body is.” He growled at that statement. You ignored it and kept talking, “they always tell you to love your body, but when it comes to being fat, they want you to hate yourself. And I try to fight it, I try every day, but sometimes is just too much.” You sobbed again, he touched your knee and you felt his arms closing around you two seconds later. “I just want to be pretty.” You cried against his chest, your voice muffled by his skin. He growled and you felt it against your teary face.

“Don’t say that. You are pretty, you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful human,” his voice was filled with desperation for you to believe him.

“You have to say that, you’ve only seen me,” you joked. The laugh you let out was swallowed by the sob that broke free right after.

“You are wrong.” He touched your skin, wiping away some tears with his thumb. “I’ve lived thousands of years, I’ve known many humans, some of them have known me. You are beautiful. You are perfect.”

“No, I’m not. But thanks for saying that.” He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a scream. He tore your clothes apart and you felt him caressing every inch of your skin at the same time.

“Beautiful,” he told you. He touched every part of your body, caressing your skin like you were a work of art, whispering endearing words against your ear. He told you every single compliment you could think of, and then some more.

It felt wrong to feel like that, you felt like he was lying, but he couldn’t be. It felt like he was forcing you to acknowledge every single cell in your body. It felt like he was pushing the words in your soul, trying to imprint them there so you wouldn’t feel ugly never again. You cried, at every single word, a tear ran down your skin. He didn’t wipe them out, he let you cry as he caressed your skin. When he parted your legs and positioned himself there, you kept crying.

Your pussy was so wet, and your soul felt so raw.

He started slow, licking your wet lips, playing with his tongue all over, but where you wanted him the most. He never shut up, telling you how pretty you were, how wet, how wonderful for him, how perfect. You were rapidly approaching to an orgasm when he said: “Say nice things about yourself if you want to come.” You shook your head, grabbing his head and trying to push him to eat you out again. “Say it,” he ordered. His voice was hard and commanding.

“I- I can’t,” you cried out. There was no way. You didn’t feel it, it wasn’t true. You weren’t pretty. You weren’t beautiful. His words seemed like a lie, but his actions spoke volumes. One of his hands never stopped caressing your soft tummy, your wide hips. His other hand played with your pussy, thrusting in and out in a tortuous way.

“Say it!” He insisted, his tone angry as he pushed two fingers into you forcefully. You cried out, almost there, so close but so far.

“I- I’m pretty,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. He rewarded you sucking your clit into his mouth, the touch of fangs against your vulnerable flesh made you shudder.

“More,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.” Each word was rewarded by his fingers rubbing perfectly inside of you, a torture like any other, driving you insane with pleasure. “I’m hot.” Each word he forced out of you felt like he was taking a weight from your chest. You felt like you were going to float away.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” He kept playing with you, getting you close to the edge just to go away when you stopped talking. He forced you to be nice to yourself, to say all the things you didn’t believe you were. But he did, he believed. And for the moment, that might be enough. He thought you were beautiful, he thought you were hot. Maybe… maybe he was right. He never lied to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and the pain-pleasure he was giving you when he flicked his tongue over your clit as he hit your G-spot. “Come for me, pretty human. Show me how perfect you are.” And you did, falling apart around his tongue and his fingers. The attack on your senses crashing down onto you.

You had an out of body experience, the tears cool against your cheeks, your rapid breathing coming into short exhales as he played with your pussy to drive you further up. You came so hard you think you saw stars. You felt boneless, your body and your soul completely spent. You felt him cleaning you with a soft cloth, your eyes closing already.

“I will stay with you,” he murmured as you were falling asleep. You felt his arms closing around you, his hands caressing your body, from your wide hips to your soft tummy… He made you feel special, he made you feel beautiful.

#part 2 #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #night monster #night monster x reader #night monster x human #fem!reader #tw: fatphobia #🦝 anon

211 notes · View notes

gyuvxx · 3 days

Text

Ghosting

Sungchan x Reader

ANGSTTTTTT SOWWY, fluff at the end, hurt comfort, self doubt, burnout, mentions of twilight

WC: 3k

pt 3 of my lil sungchan series. pt 1, pt 2

YN assumed that all was well in her relationship- situationship? Flirtationship?- the two had gone on their second official date, and hung out plenty of times beside then. She thought she and sungchan were doing great, until he stopped answering his texts.

They had just seen each other before then- he took her out to dinner and bought them milkshakes. He had spent the night in her apartment, as he had grown used to doing, and they fell asleep playing video games on her couch. He had left the morning after after giving her a kiss on the cheek and saying ‘Talk to ya’ later, cutie’

The first day, YN assumed it must be he’s away from his phone- he doesn’t have to respond right away, and she didn’t need him to.

But when another day passed, and then another, YN became skeptical. She began to criticize herself for texting him the usual good morning/good night texts when she got no response. Whe texted him asking if he was alright, but got no response. She asked him if he was going to a party Yunjin had invited her to, but her message was never read. She kept trying, but kept getting nothing. She felt pathetic.

Eventually the days turned into a week, and still no word from sungchan. It confused her- they had been so close for weeks before, why drop her now? A week turned into two weeks, and YN felt herself lose her will to keep trying. Too many texts left on delivered, too little communication to justify her continuing to text a ghost.

Had she done something wrong? She wracked her brain for anything she could’ve done to offend him, or make him upset, but couldn’t think of anything. She wondered if maybe he was talking to someone else or… maybe he just wasn’t interested anymore.

She thought about their times together, their first date that was so perfect she almost thought she dreamed it. Kissing him when he showed up at her door, or when they’d snuggle up on her couch and watch movies they never really paid attention to. It all left her wondering what happened. Why was sungchan suddenly MIA?

She just felt… useless.

YN decided to go out as a pick-me-up. Yunjin walked at her side, knowing of her struggle with sungchan, and more than willing to help her get her mind off things. Regardless of what was going on in YN’s mind, Yunjin was always a great pick-me-up.

“I mean we could go to a party tonight?” She suggested.

“You know I hate parties,” YN rolled her eyes.

“We wouldn’t stay long, plus, it’s a mostly girls party. It’s kind of exclusive,” Yunjin wriggled her eyebrows.

“I’ll let you know if I want to go,” YN replied, her arms locked with Yunjin.

“Well we gotta do something to get your mind off of sungchan,”

“Pffft, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. I’m fine, I promise,”

“It certainly hasn’t seemed like it.” Yunjin watched YN tilt her head to the side. “You seriously haven’t realized you’ve been mentioning him non stop for days?”

YN paused for a moment. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” she mumbled.

“Oh, it’s bad bad. You can’t stop talking about it.”

YN looked down, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, now feeling too exposed for how she had been really feeling.

Yunjin paused her steps, looking over to her friend. “Oh, no, don't apologize! It’s okay, I understand why,”

“I just feel bad, I really didn’t realize how much it was on my mind,” YN explained, staring at the pavement below her.

“It’s okay, really,” Yunjin assured her. “It just makes me sad seeing you so sad over a man,” She shrugged, squeezing YN’s arm reassuringly.

“I really liked him though… and I thought…” She trailed off, sighing and shaking her head.

“And that’s normal. It’s okay to be sad about stuff like this.” Yunjin told her. “Now perk up, cutie, We’ve got a weekend to waste, and a man to forget about.”

The Two walked around the market, looking at handmade goods, and fresh pick fruits and veggies. For a while, YN began to let her mind wander from Sungchan. She enjoyed her time with Yunjin, joking around and talking about drama that had been going on in recent weeks. It was easy to forget about things when she was with Yunjin, it was easy to forget all her sorrows.

They heard something from the distance, and perked up once more when they realized there was someone calling their names.

“Is that them? Yunjin? Yunjin!” someone shouted from the distance, weaving through the crowd. “It is them!” He called, tugging someone behind them. “YN, Yunjin!” They recognized shotaro at a distance, smiling and waving at them. YN froze when she saw who was right beside him.

Jung Sungchan. The man who had been ghosting her for two weeks.

YN turned to Yunjin, her anxiety clear on her face. “You’ll be okay,” Yunjin whispered, keeping their arms interlocked.

YN watched as the two of them approached, and almost immediately locked eyes with Sungchan. She stood there staring at him before tearing her gaze away and looking at the ground. WHen she looked up, Sungchan stood at a closer distance, a smile on his handsome face as he looked at her, holding his hand up in a friendly wave. If he hadn’t been ghosting her for weeks, her heart would’ve melted, she probably would have swooned. But alas, she was in no mood to swoon.

“Hey guys!” Shotaro greeted cheerfully. “It’s good to see you, we’ve been meaning to hang out,” He nudged sungchan, whose face dropped a bit when YN avoided his gaze.

“Yeah, it’s good seeing you guys,” His gaze was still fixed on YN, who had her phone pulled out, fingers typing away at something.

It wasn’t long until Yunjin and Shotaro fell into a comfortable conversation, and Sungchan took a step closer to YN.

“Hey,” He smiled, his voice soft.

“Hi.” YN replied shortly. Sungchan took note, shifting his weight a bit.

“Are you okay?” He asked, slightly concerned.

“Yeah why?” She lied, folding her arms.

“You just seem… more closed off.” He thought of their last time together, how close they had been, the stark contrast of this moment compared to then.

“Well sorry, I’m not sure how to talk to someone who’s been ignoring me for two weeks,” YN glanced at him, voice stern.

Sungchan furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?” He asked in confusion.

YN rolled her eyes, not wanting to continue down this path. “Yunjin, I’m gonna head home. I’ll text you about the party,” she said before turning on her heel and walking out of sungchan’s sight.

“So… why is YN mad at you?” Shotaro asked, taking a bite of his food.

Sungchan shrugged. “I really don’t know? It kinda confused me.” The look shotaro gave him told him to continue. “She said I’d been ignoring her,”

“Have you been ignoring her?” Shotaro asked, knowing the answer, but wanting Sungchan to hear the truth from himself.

The hesitancy Sungchan felt made his heart drop a bit, realizing that he had been ignoring her. “I… i didn’t think I was ignoring her,” He pulled out his phone to see the old messages he hadn’t taken the time to look at. “I didn’t really mean to,”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Shotaro sighed. “When did you last see her?”

“I forget, but it wasn’t that long ago,” sungchan answered.

“Okay… and when was the last time you texted her? When was the last time she texted?”

“She texted me a couple days ago…” Sungchan put his phone down, taking a few bites of his food, as if he could avoid talking if he had his mouth full.

“Sunghcan,” Shotaro looked at him with a disbelieving expression.

“This food is really good,” Sungchan didn’t meet his gaze, stuffing his face with more food.

“Seriously, when was the last time you hung out?” Shotaro asked once more.

“I don’t know, it couldn’t have been too far back,” sungchan shrugged. “I think… two weeks?”

“Two weeks????”

Truth be told, Sungchan had no intentions of ghosting YN. Hell, he barely realized he had been.

When Sungchan got focused on something, it was almost like everything in the world stopped existing. That something happened to shift from YN, to his upcoming exam. It was the majority of his quarter grade, and in his efforts to study, he had unintentionally ignored nearly everything around him. Shotaro had begged him to go out for an hour or two that day, which was a struggle in itself.

Needless to say, he had been burnt out, not even realizing it. He barely had been out besides classes, and his social life had taken a pretty big hit. He had been tired, focused so much on passing the quarters exam, that he neglected one of the biggest parts of his life.

He hadn’t realized until he saw YN, how little time he had spent with her. In his time away, he never had the chance to think about just how much he missed her. Sungchan hadn’t thought much about the girl he liked so much- not because he lost interest, but because he was buckling under the pressure of school.

Sungchan rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing in his own frustration. “I know, I know,” he looked up at shotaro. “So?”

“So what?” Shotaro asked.

“So what should I do? I messed up,” Sungchan shrugged, looking at shotaro hopefully.

“Are you stupid?” Shoptaro asked. Before the younger could question his words, he said, “Apologize to her! You can’t get anywhere if you don’t talk to her,” Shotaro told him. “Make it quick before Yunjin gets involved.”

Sungchan Nodded. “Noted.”

When the two of them parted ways, sungchan walked with his hands in his pockets. He walked to his apartment, making a mental list of ways he could apologize, how he could make things up to her. He was never great at things like that, but he knew that he would change it for her.

When YN got home, her mood was brought down even more seeing there was still nothing from sungchan. It Was partially her fault, leaving before he could get a word in, but logic did nothing to brighten her mood. The worst part of the citation was how much it made her get into her own head.

She began doubting her bond with sungchan, doubting herself. Was she that forgettable that he could go weeks without talking to her and not even realize?

She sat down on her couch and pulled a pillow over her head, groaning into it as she laid back. In her own house, with nothing to distract her from her own doubts and fear, she felt the tears well in her eyes. It wasn’t her first experience with heart break, or with a failed relationship, but nonetheless, it hurt. She had let herself get used to sungchan, gotten her hopes up with him. Was she stupid to think they’d be more than a situationship? Tears streamed down her face before she could bring her hand up to wipe her face.

She thought back to their first date, and questioned how she ended up here. Crying on her couch because of a guy who wasn’t even her boyfriend. Crying over the guy who took her out for lunch and who she convinced to stay a little longer. Did it mean anything? Was this just how Sungchan was?

She wiped her tears and turned on her side, resting her cheek against her pillow as her phone lit up with texts from Yunjin.

Jen: you okay???

Jen: you left rlly fast

Jen: Did he do smth???? I can kill him

Jen: should I come over?

She sighed, not wanting to involve Yunjin even more in her boy problems.

YN: no i’m ok

YN: thanks tho 🙂

YN dropped her phone on the coffee table, closing her eyes and curling into herself. It wasn’t that late, but the tears streaming down her cheeks, and the flashes of her time with sungchan that came up every so often made her tired, made her want to escape.

Within a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep, not wanting to think about sungchan anymore, hoping her tears would dry themselves.

Hours passed, and YN woke up from her spot on her couch. Her back ached from the uncomfortable position, cheeks a bit puffy from crying. She went to shower, dousing herself in water to soothe her skin, and ease the pain that came from her uncomfortable sleeping position. She changed into pajamas, and dried her hair before putting it up. YN knew that since she had woken up when it was late, she wouldn’t be able to sleep well. Given that, she decided to treat herself. She wouldn’t go to another party with Yunjin, she wouldn’t spend her night crying over sungchan, she’d just let herself relax.

She reached for her phone so she could order herself some food, but a notification made her stop for a moment.

Channie <3: hi

Channie <3: can we talk pls?

Channie <3: i miss u

YN scoffed at the messages. Two weeks and her turning him down was what it took for him to take interest again?

She didn’t respond and placed an order for delivery. She had Wine in her cabinet that she saved for special occasions (or nights when she needed a little pick me up) and a pint of her favorite ice cream. She brought out her favorite blanket and sat down on the couch, trying to pick what she should watch, settling on twilight because what could take her mind off of things with sungchan better, than a YA romance movie.

She got up and grabbed the wine from her cabinet, pouring a bit into her glass and talking a few sips before reaching around for the ice cream in her freezer. In the midst of her search, she heard a knock on her door. Not realizing it was too quick to be her food order, she went over, and opened the door.

“Sungchan?”

He stood in the doorway, eyes wide, as if he had ran up the stairs like he had the night of their first date.

YN just sighed. “What are you-”

She was cut off when she felt his arms wrap around her, his head buried in her neck as if he wanted to crawl inside her. She heard him let out a shaky breath and her eyes widened, confused as to what was going on, and why he suddenly showed up.

“I’m sorry,” he said into her skin, arms tightening around her. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, I promise,” His voice was soft, almost fragile sounding.

YN was stunned for a hot minute, standing there and letting him hug her before hesitantly bringing her arms to wrap around him, relaxing into his grasp. They stayed like that for a moment before each pulling away. YN led sungchan further inside, leading him to sit on her couch. She sat next to him, an awkward distance away.

“What’s going on?” she asked hesitantly.

“I wanted to apologize, and like… explain why i ignored you,”

YN looked at him expectantly.

“So, I have a big exam coming up, and it makes up half of my quarter’s grade. And if I failed, my semester exam would also be sunk, so-” He paused. “Not important. When I get into something really intensely, I have a bad habit, that I’m gonna work on, of kinda forgetting everything else. Even Shotaro struggled to get in contact with me. He had to drag me out earlier today.”

He looked at YN and sighed, seeing her hesitant expression.

“I really am sorry that I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention, but I know I did, and I promise, I’ll make it up to you,” He reached for her hand lightly.

YN looked down at their hands. “I thought you lost interest in me,” She said quietly.

“What?” Sungchan asked, confused if he heard her correctly.

“I thought You lost interest. I thought you lost interest and started ignoring me.” She said a bit firmer.

Sungchan’s heart dropped hearing those words. “YN,” he brought his other hand to her cheek, tilting her gaze towards him. “What I did was a mistake. A mistake I promise, I won’t make again,” his thumb brushed her cheek. “And I promise, I swear on everything, I’m still pretty crazy for you,” He gave her a light smile.

His words made YN smile, intertwining her fingers with his as he leaned in to give her a soft kiss. They wrapped their arms around each other once more, not letting go of each other even as they just sat on the couch, covered by the blanket.

YN got up when she heard a knock on her door, much to sungchan’s dismay. She brought back the food she ordered, plus the ice cream and wine. When sungchan reached for some, she swatted his hand away.

“Thats not for you,” she shook her head with a playful smile.

“I thought you weren’t mad?” Sungchan sat up a bit, concerned.

“I’m not, but i ordered these for me,” She poked his stomach.

When Sungchan stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, pleading for some food like he had been starving all day, YN rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she said, and gave him some food, and poured him a glass of wine.

They found their places back on the couch, snuggled up against each other, sungchan’s arm draped around her waist as she rested on his chest. In the middle of the movie, while the Cullens played baseball, sungchan spoke up.

He asked her, “Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?”

whoopee!!! I finished pt 3, stay tuned for the next parts, I pinky promise they'll come out sooner.

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh, @skzhoe4life, @cheederzchez , @so-lychee , @leehanascent

#sungchan x reader #jung sungchan x reader #riize sungchan #jung sungchan #k labels #riize jung sungchan #sungchan oneshot #sungchan angst #sungchan #sungchan fluff #my love {sungchan} ☆.ᐟ #gyuvxx ᯓ★#⋆｡°✩riize #riize #riize oneshots #riize x reader

62 notes · View notes

coloursflyaway · 2 days

Note

Ok, so I’m a big fan of your dbda fics and I saw you were asking for prompts. I have 2, one of which is inspired by one of your reblogs.

1. Charles kisses Edwin at the worst possible time, maybe ending in them getting captured and Edwin giving him a lecture on “time and place”, Charles arguing with “you’re one to talk about time and place”, referring to the hell confession

2. Preferably very angsty, Charles wants to kiss Edwin to try and figure out if he feels the same way, and Edwin stops him, saying something along the lines of “if we did kiss and you didn’t feel the same way I don’t think I could bear it”

Obviously no pressure to write either of them, but I would love to see how you would develop these ideas more.

Hiii, thank you so much for these ♥♥♥ I'm keeping the second one for later, because I really like that, but here's a little ficlet for the first prompt!

It’s not like Charles plans it to go like this, is it? In fact, he isn’t sure if he could plan it like this if he tried, he’s not sure if anyone could.

It’s just something that happens, because, to be honest, it was always bound to happen at some point, and it’s not Charles fault that Edwin, well. Stood there. Looking so pretty with his perfectly coiffed hair and his kind eyes and high cheekbones. Not even the look of slight exasperation had detracted from how much of a vision he looked, maybe because Charles has gotten more than used to it in the thirty-odd years they have known each other.

(He knows exactly how many years it’s been, how many months and days too, could probably reconstruct it down to the hour, but that gets to be his little secret, only admired sometimes in dark nights and especially bright mornings, when Edwin is reading or doing research or concentrating on something else enough that the tip of his tongue peaks out between his plush, pink lips.)

And Charles didn’t decide to take a step towards him, just like he hadn’t decided to reach up and put one hand on Edwin’s cheek, feeling the sudden breath Edwin had taken. Two decades ago, Charles had persuaded Edwin to try breathing again, at least occasionally, as a little luxury, a little treat, and it still makes him smile to see Edwin do it, made him smile in that moment, too, and maybe that had been decision.

But leaning in and kissing Edwin, that hadn’t been a choice at all.

Just something he had to do in that moment, because there was a little smudge of chalk on the edge of Edwin’s jaw, because Edwin had looked at him and behind and around and between the exasperation, he had looked so fond. And Charles had thought, he loves me, and then, I love him, too.

What other choice did he have than kiss that love onto Edwin’s lips?

Only that when he pulls back, a smile on his lips and, if possible, even more love in his heart, Edwin is looking him with wide eyes and his lips kissed pink, but not curved, not smiling.

“Charles”, he starts, and Charles isn’t certain he has heard this tone in his voice before; it makes him giddy to think that this is something brand new he gets to find out about his favourite person in the world. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry”, Charles starts out of habit, then stops himself, brow furrowing. “Actually, no, I’m not sorry at all. That was great and I’ll do it again. And again.”

He grins at Edwin, happiness bubbling in his chest until he feels like he’s bursting; a sound drips from Edwin’s lips, something in between a gasp and a whine.

“There’s a time and a place-”, he begins a speech Charles has heard before, and it’s so easy to interrupt him this time, because Charles usually doesn’t mind the scolding, but there’s more important things right now, like kissing Edwin again.

“You mean, like not in the middle of summoning a demon? Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if you really get to talk about times and places. At least it’s not on the stairway to Hell, is it?”

And Edwin’s eyes widen even more, if that is possible, and not that Charles doubted it before, but God, he really does love him.

Without thinking, he moves his thumb to wipe the chalk from Edwin’s skin, and Edwin sucks in a breath, then, with the quietest, most hopeful voice, asks, “You do mean it, don’t you? You’re sure? This isn’t just a-”

“Of course I mean it”, Charles cuts him off, before Edwin can say anything else, can think that Charles might not be serious about this for a moment longer. “Have never meant anything more than this.”

Another breath, one that Charles can almost feel against his skin, and Edwin nods.

“Maybe, then, after the demon, we could-”, he starts, but doesn’t get to finish this sentence either.

“Sod the demon”, Charles says, and means it.

This time, when he kisses Edwin, it’s a choice, and it’s the best one he’s ever made.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #charles rowland #edwin payne #painland #charles x edwin #paynland #chedwin #i love writing charles being impulsive so much #and i think it could absolutely just be a single moment of nothing special at all to make him go #oh #i do love him like this as well actually #i should kiss him about it

55 notes · View notes

lieslab · 2 days

Text

Birds of a feather

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Seungmin X gn reader

Summary: After getting sick while trying to cram for exams, Seungmin takes care of you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: This was requested a while ago and I'm so sorry it's taken me this long. If anyone has exams coming up, good luck!! If they've already passed, I hope you passed them. Exams are difficult and kudos to you for studying or winging it, whichever one you choose.

Side note: it probably seems like I'm ghosting people and that's not my intention at all. I traveled to Chicago and then came home and ended up getting sick hours later. I've been absolutely miserable and zooted on Benadryl. I haven't had the energy to open Tumblr, but now that I'm better and not feeling high on medicine, the fun continues.

_ _ _

“Honey, I’m home!” Seungmin called out as he stepped inside the shared apartment. Upon not hearing anything in response, he sighed, and kicked off his shoes.

College was hard and exams were harder. For the past week, you have been cramming yourself non-stop for exams. Seungmin had tried to get you to take breaks and slow down, but you were relentless about your studies.

You had to memorize half a textbook for one course and multiple flashcards for another. Somehow remember a complex math formula, remember a few fancy vocab words for your English class, on and on it went.

Seungmin had warned you multiple times that you were going to burn yourself out, but you refused to listen. You had waited until the last minute again and now it was biting you in the ass.

The bag of fast food in Seungmin’s hands released a greasy scent that he was sure would capture your attention as he grew closer to your shared bedroom.

He called your name and gently knocked on the door. “I know you don’t want to take a break, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve been working for hours without proper hydration and without food. I got us dinner, so can we eat together?”

He held his breath and listened, but you never responded. His eyebrows creased with worry and he knocked a little louder. “Please don’t tell me that you’re ignoring me. You’re not fooling me, I know you’re in there.”

When you didn’t respond a second time, he threw his head back with a groan. His hand reached out and he shifted the knob. Inside the bedroom, you were a wreck and his eyes went wide.

You had taken multiple things off the bedroom wall. The framed photos of the two of you, the painting that Hyunjin had gifted you for your anniversary, and a poster of his band, it was all gone.

In their places, you had plastered sticky note after sticky note. They were all color coordinated and had multiple scribbles on them that looked like chicken scratch. His jaw dropped as he stepped forward to read them.

Each color of sticky note had been for a different class. Green for finance, blue for English, yellow for physics, purple for business. On and on they went. Each one had a scribbled reminder of things you needed to study. Some had a few lines through them and he assumed that those were ones you had already finished working on.

“What the hell?” He whispered beneath his breath. He knew you were swamped with studying, but he didn’t know you were pushing yourself this hard. “Baby?” He called out as he approached the desk you were slumped over.

Two different textbooks were wide open and your arms laid limp over them. Your head found a home where the two met. The dwindling sunlight from outside casted shadows on your face.

He placed the bag in front of you and gently shook your shoulder. “Hey, wake up.” When you didn’t budge, he tried again. “Get up, please. You can’t lie like this, you’re going to hurt your neck.”

The soft shaking sent your head up so fast, you nearly slammed into his chin. You sucked in a deep breath and blinked your bleary eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I’m up, I’m up.” You rubbed your eyes and yawned.

“Are you okay? How long have you been studying for?”

“Studying?” Your voice came out sleepily as your eyes shut again. “Right, studying. I should be doing that and I…” You trailed off trying to find the right words. “I um…I-”

He frowned, “you look miserable.”

“I’ve gotta study all night. The first final is tomorrow afternoon and I-” Your face scrunched up and you forced yourself to swallow. “I can do it and I-”

“Do you feel okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Honey, you don’t sound okay.” Concerned, he placed the back of his palm to your forehead. “You’re warmer than you usually are. Do you feel okay?”

“I’m so tired.”

“Besides that?”

“My throat hurts a little.”

“Sinus congestion?”

“Some.”

“You do know what I’m going to say, right?”

“Please don’t.”

“You can’t attend your finals if you’re sick. You’ll risk getting everyone else sick and I-”

“I’ll be fine.”

“They will be able to be taken another day. You can get extensions from your professors. If you try to take them like this, you’re going to fail them. Don’t even think about it.”

You threw your head back and complained, but Seungmin wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head, grabbed your hands, and gently tugged you to your feet. “Come on, let’s get you feeling better.”

“My brain hurts.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

“No.”

“Drink?”

“I got tea from my favorite cafe earlier.”

“You must have picked up a bug or something from there. You’re so tired and stressed out. You’ve been neglecting the basic human needs which means your immune system is down.”

“Are you always a know-it-all?”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you took proper care of yourself. Come on, arms up.” You lifted your arms without hesitation. “You should be glad that you have me in your life. All I want to do is help you.”

You blubbered a response, but it was muffled and slurred. Your entire body felt awful. The pressure in your sinuses was causing a headache. You could barely breathe through your nose and the scratch in your throat was getting worse and worse.

You didn’t fight it as Seungmin shifted your body around to wiggle you free from your clothes. He helped you into a t-shirt and a pair of your favorite shorts. He helped pull you to the bed and gently pushed you back.

“I got you some food, but I bet you don’t feel up for eating, do you?”

“You know me so well.”

“I would hope so, you dork. We sleep in the same bed, so of course I know you. Does the term ‘boyfriend’ mean nothing to you?”

“I love you.”

“You’re so lucky I love you too. Get some sleep and I’m going to lay right here beside you. Let’s get some sleep together, okay?”

You mumbled in an agreement and sank back into the bed. The body pillows caught your limp body parts. You sucked in a final deep breath. “Nighty night.

“Yeah, yeah, good night. Get some shut eye and we’ll talk in the morning.”

“But the exams-” you started.

“Will be there tomorrow and we’ll discuss it then. Just trust me on it, you’ll be okay.”

“But-”

“No.”

“I-”

He cut you off with a kiss. His lips were salty from the warm french fries he stole from the bag. The granules were still coating his lips. When he pulled away, you licked your lips.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“For you, it’s worth it. If I get sick, then you really have to stay home. You won’t want to leave me alone and dying, do you?”

“You’re unbelievable.” You rolled closer to him and tucked your head beneath his chin. A final sigh escaped you as you closed your eyes.

“I love you too.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

Requests, taglist, and inbox rules

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #kim seungmin #seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin x y/n

44 notes · View notes

luvlilyz · 3 days

Text

relax a bit

w/c: 820, short

note: fluff, fiancé geneticist miguel, nurse reader. he isn’t spiderman in this au. this is my first time writing a fic im so nervous to post this so have some compassion 😭 thx!

Sliding the tray of freshly cubed potatoes into the oven and closing the door with a thud. Wiping the olive oil from your hands onto your floral apron, a job well done.

Cooking was supposed to be a soothing way to relieve stress. After enduring 10 excruciating hours of dealing with the blatant disrespect and disregard from senior residents at the retirement home. It had left you, emotionally numb, feet sore and bone tired. Fed up with those old hags shoving you around.

You grudgingly continue to clean up before dinner is done cooking. Placing dishes into the dishwasher and wiping the counters before you had begun sweeping, the front door creaks open.

The sound of his numerous keys being dropped into the bowl at the front door, a heavy winter coat being hung in the closet, and his beloved brown dress shoes being taken off draws your attention.

“Hey honey, how was work?” You call out brushing up the mess from the floor.

Miguel‘s large form is heard approaching before he's seen in the doorway of the kitchen in your shared Nueva York apartment. Being together for five years and living together for two you had become accustomed to his habits, it’s almost second nature.

He grumbles and groans in response to your question as he encircles his muscular arms around your waist, dwarfing you by comparison and burrowing his face into your neck.

“Rough day I assume?” You ask in a sympathetic tone.

He responds “Always,” he replies, “but I can’t complain... I love my job. And I love coming home to the sight of you.” He kisses your shoulder and you reach behind to gently stroke his head.

“You should go take a shower to relax. Dinner will be done soon”. There's a muffled “Yes ma’am.” You smile as you watch his looming figure, descending down the hall to your shared bedroom.

A delicious dinner, an amazing conversation and a couple glasses of your favorite wine later. You find your fiancé and yourself curled up on the couch underneath a thick quilt watching a cheesy romance movie.

You both needed this, your hectic schedules hindering you from spending much needed time together. His job as a full time geneticist at Alchemex and you being a full time nurse at a retirement home made your relationship quite difficult.

You glance at the ticking clock hung in the hall as it reads 12am. Your heart shatters, knowing that this rare domestic occasion has to come to an abrupt end because your next shift begins in 6 hours. A frustrated sigh escapes your lips. Miguel's attention shifts from the television.

“Something wrong?” He raises a brow in concern and rubs comforting circles into your back.

You rest your head onto his chest looking up at him with saddened tired eyes.

“It’s just that…it’s already late and I have to get up soon….I feel like I never have enough time to spend with you.” A frown forming on your plump lips.

He pulls your body closer and places his chin atop of your head embracing you.

“I know sweetie. Our hours aren’t ideal, I miss spending time with you too.” He replies reassuringly.

A silence falls over you both. The sound of dialogue from the movie and the ticking of the clock blending in with the noises of the city that never sleeps. You break the silence first.

“Do you really have to go to work tomorrow?” Your best attempt at using your sad eyes to sway his decision.

“You know I’m the head geneticist. My team wouldn’t know what to do without me.” He chuckles.

“They can figure it out. Don’t you think I need you more than them.”

He looks down at you “Aren’t you needed at work as well? I’m sure they need their hardest working employee.”

"Screw them; they can figure it out. I need a break, and I know you do, too. He scratches his neck, exhaustion visible on his mature features; a strand of his salt and pepper hair, which you adore, falls forward on his forehead, wrinkled in thought.

“It’s just one day.” He mumbles. You give your widest most convincing smile. “Exactly, just one day, they’ll survive without us won’t they.” Your tone takes a bit of a joyful tone.

He smiles gingerly “Okay, I’ll call out tomorrow.” A small cheer is heard from you. “But don’t think giving me those sad puppy dog eyes is going to work in your favor every time.” He says sarcastically. You kiss him on the lips

“Well it’s never not worked for me.” You reply.

You can feel the stress, anxiety and tension from the day leave your body as you lean further into the loving warmth radiating from the giant man.

“I love you.” He says. “I love you, too.”

You both eventually fall into a much needed deep sleep soothed by each other's embrace.

a/n: thx for readinggg <3

39 notes · View notes

incorrectmarvelquotesss · 2 days

Note

Hi!!! I wanna start off with saying how much I love your work. I just find myself rereading ambience and your flufftober one shots. I’ve also read hallucinations a couple of times now. I’m just in love. Second thing was that I feel like you’re a nice person and you’ve probably been told that before because you are very nice.

But basically I had a request for Dad!Bucky just braiding his daughter’s hair perfectly because she didn’t like the way her mother did it. And I just would love to see you write about it.

It’s okay if you can’t by the way. I totally get it.

— braiding —

Warnings: fluff, mentions of minor injuries, hint of angst

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky braids his daughter’s hair.

A/N: Thank you! Some people do say I’m nice (my sister would tell you that I’m too nice but also very much a “meanie” lol). And thank you for reading my work! I loved writing hallucinations, but, idk if you guys can tell, I suck at writing endings. They’re either very abrupt or very cheesy. Anyway, I would love to write about dad!bucky with his daughter.

Can be read with Day Sixteen

“Daddy!” Little Becca was running across the dining room just a second later, socks cladding her feet that made Bucky’s heart race. She had slipped just last week on that one corner close to the stars and bumped her nose against one of the stairs.

It had been one thing to see one of his boys get hurt, but completely another to see his baby girl—a mini you—get hurt. It sounded stupid, to be more concerned for Becca and not the boys, but it seemed to him that even the boys couldn’t help but be protective over their sister. Bucky couldn’t have been more proud of them when they went from play fighting to having tea parties with her.

Bucky’s heart only steadied when Becca came to a stop in front of him in the kitchen, one hand out for him while the other hid something behind her back.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Her curly hair—one thing she seemed to inherit from Bucky—was half done, two very messy braids sticking up in two different direction at the front. She brought out the hand behind her back and shoved a brush into his outstretched hand.

“Can you do my hair?” She asked in her little voice, playing with the front of her baby blue dress. Her words were just a hair off at four-years-old. It was the most cutest thing to Bucky.

Bucky placed his coffee mug down. “Wasn’t mommy doing your hair today?” He crouched down to get to her level, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face with gentle fingers. Her wide eyes and a quickly forming pout made Bucky’s heart clench.

“Mommy was pulling my hair,” she said timidly, eyes averting from Bucky’s face. His eyes flickered up to the movement behind her and his eyes landed on you, crossing your arms and leaning against the door frame between the dining room and kitchen. You shook your head.

That meant that Becca was lying. It wasn’t often she did, but it still didn’t sit right with you or Bucky. Lying wasn’t something you wanted your kids to do with you guys.

“Okay,” he said slowly, picking her up as he got up. You pushed off the wall and silently walked over behind where he sat her on the kitchen island. “Are you sure mommy was pulling your hair? ‘Cause then I gotta have a little chat with her. She can’t be pulling anyone else’s hair.”

You rolled your eyes when he sent you a subtle wink over an oblivious Becca.

Becca wringed her hands together and huffed out a breath, knowing she had to tell her dad exactly what had happened and why she wanted him to do her hair.

“I like your braids a little tiny bit more than mommy’s,” she admitted softly. “Don’t wanna tell mommy that ‘cause I don’t want her to be sad.” Bucky and you shared a glance and a gentle smile in which it was obvious to the both of you that you two had done a good job raising your kids.

“Okay, I won’t tell her,” Bucky promised, holding out his pinky as you walked away without getting detected. “Now, what type of braids are we doing today?”

———

Taglists:

Bucky Barnes: @kandis-mom @yeehawbrothers

Any Marvel Character: @pinkposttragedy

Everything: @gen-genevieve @pigeonmama

39 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 3 days

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER TWELVE: Oh, Chaos!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: You have an eventful day at work rekindling with a new acquaintance and dealing with a peculiar trauma case, but the most prominent thing on your mind is dinner with Matt, and you could really use some advice from someone who knows a thing or two about dates to keep you from canceling.

Warnings for this chapter: slight angst, self-hatred/doubt, mentions of past abuse, mentions of injury

Word Count: 5.3k

A/n: I'm sorry this took so long. I took an unexpected hiatus, and I couldn't break out of the writer's block, so this took close to a month to finish. I read this a dozen times, and I fixed what I could. This is rather "boring" compared to what came before and what I've got planned, but there is plot in there that will become important again later down the line. Just so you know what you're getting yourself into in advance. 'Kay, thank you!

Read Chapter 12: Oh, Chaos! here on AO3

Four missed calls, and twenty text messages. The chat is full of one-sided advances. ‘Claire’ is written on top, but her contact resembles an empty void in contrast.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this radio silence, but I thought you would like to know I asked Matt out again. I like him. We’re having dinner on Friday. Do with that as you will.

Hope you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.

Call me when you can. Please.

I’m worried about you.

Love you.

It has been like this since Matt called you when you least expected it. Whether he was looking for support, professional advice, or just the sound of your voice, you’re not sure, but it warmed your heart to know he thought of you and no one else, and he picked up the phone to call you.

Before, you tried telling yourself that there isn’t much between you. You tried telling yourself that perhaps, it would never go anywhere and not to be disappointed because from the start, Matt has been too good to be true, but after sharing a glimpse of your past, you feel closer to him, and you don’t want to let him go. He is the first good thing that has come to you in years.

Claire’s radio silence hurts. You don’t want to admit it, but sending text after text to your best friend and receiving not even a ‘read’ sign both concerns and upsets you. Ever since she took you under her wing when you came to New York, you’ve—sometimes involuntarily—shared your anger with her, your sadness, your pain, and those rare moments of happiness.

She was the one who told you to go for it, so her behavior remains suspicious. You want to ask her; you want to confront her about everything and get the truth out of her, but unless she answers your contact attempts or shows up to work, there is not much you can do. You tried from the moment you got home to the second leading up to your next shift at the hospital. So far, nothing. A few days ago, you would have called the police and said that this was nothing like Claire, but now, you’re not so sure anymore what to believe, and it is pissing you off when you should be excited.

Things are looking up. You don’t want to look down and ruin this for yourself, knowing there is a chance your thoughts will most likely turn against you again at some point. You have to enjoy it while it lasts.

Glancing down at your phone, you walk down one of the hallways at Metro General. You shake your head. It’s been hours. Perhaps after you get off work, you will head to where Claire is staying. Just to check on her. The nagging feeling that shit is about to hit the fan won’t leave you, and it seems like the right thing to do, even if just to ask her what her problem is.

She’s always so quick to tell you what’s good for you. She gives you advice you never even asked for, but you end up appreciating it regardless. She knows what she’s doing, and she is a lot smarter than you are most of the time. You know her as well as you possibly can after two years; Claire is hiding something, and that is unlike her. If she gets herself in danger because of something she feels like she can’t talk to you about, or if she has an opinion afraid to share with you, you need to know because it is important to you. Your mind is disordered and distorted; you are well aware that sometimes, you don’t see things as clearly as you should. Claire’s rationality is a blessing and a curse. You’re dependent on it.

“Hey, Doc,” a familiar voice sounds from the nurse’s station.

You stop in your tracks, looking up from your phone to the man standing across from you. You haven’t seen that face in a while, even though he spends a lot of time here—almost as much as he does at work. You doubt he ever goes home to sleep.

Your face lights up, and you stuff your phone back into the pocket of your coat. “Ben!” you exclaim, your lips curving into a smile.

“Long time no see,” he says in an attempt to match your delighted reaction.

You hate to admit it, but Ben Urich looks worse for wear. Dark circles under his eyes match the deepened wrinkles of exhaustion, and his lips are cracked in more places than one. His shirt shows the slightest of coffee stains he tries to cover with his visitor badge. You doubt he has had the time to do his laundry in a long time. And there is that expression of agony he usually knows how to hide, but the walls he once built around himself are starting to crumble.

The sympathy you have for this man cannot be put into words—because your feelings are unpleasant most of the time, too, and unless you have been in an impossible situation, all you can have is empathy. You, however, are not a stranger to despair, and the people around you all seem to be carrying too much of it, too.

You clear your throat, putting the file in your hand aside to shake his. “How have you been?” you dare to ask.

He shrugs. “Could be better, but… I’m alive. Healthy,” he says. It’s a modified standard answer you do not buy for even a second.

Your eyes soften, but you try to keep the mood light. God knows what he has been through since the last time you saw him on this very floor. “Yeah? That’s good. The Bulletin still giving you a hard time about the things you want to write?” You chuckle.

“Ah, you know how it is.” Ben leans against the counter. “Readers these days are apparently more interested in celebrity scandals and gentrification than true crime.”

The pen scratches against the chart you have to sign. “Well, just know that you will always have a loyal fan of your true crime section in me, and I would tell that to Eric’s face if you ever need me to.” You offer him a smile of pure honesty, and his eyes actually light up this time.

He chuckles. “Can I quote you on that?”

“That depends. Am I getting paid?”

“I’m afraid the only form of payment I have is cheap office coffee.”

“You’re in luck then,” you say, “I am a sucker for cheap office coffee because it’s still better than cheap hospital coffee.”

His face contorts. “Yeah, I’m not going to argue with you on that,” he says.

Again, you chuckle. The question rests on the tip of your tongue, but only when the silence stretches out painfully long enough to prompt a drop of sweat to run down his temple, you ask, “How’s your wife?” No pain or pity in your voice—you know he doesn’t need it.

Ben swallows in response, scratching his fingers through his hair. “Uh, hanging in there. They told me she’s had a good day today. Lucid,” he tells you.

“That sounds like progress. You know, with her condition, every good day is a success.”

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh… I agree. But… she’s not the only reason I’m here. Shelly called me here today to, uh, discuss my wife’s future at this hospital…”

The muscles in your shoulders tense and stiffen. You slowly lift your head. “Oh,” is all you can muster up to say. You know where this is going.

“Yeah,” he says. “I tried convincing her to keep her here a little while longer. But apparently, you guys can’t accommodate her much longer, and she wants me to look into hospice or some other form of long-term care.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

But what else are you supposed to say? You clear your throat. “I, uh… Shelly’s under a lot of pressure, you know? We’re having funding issues in every department, and she is just trying to make due, but… I know your wife’s been here for a very long time, and she’s dependent on the care. Alzheimer’s can be incredibly cruel, and I’m sure hospice is a lot more expensive than what your insurance covers if she stays here, so it isn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” says Ben.

“Can I help in any way?” you ask.

“Well, unless you can win the lottery or find a cure for Alzheimer’s in the next seven days, I’m afraid not.”

“Believe me, people are trying, but—”

“I know,” he cuts you off. “I still appreciate it. You’re one of the few doctors here who still care about the people.”

You shake your head, saying, “It’s not that easy. The system is rigged against us. We’re all aware of it, but some of us just… fall off the wagon because they think the only way through is to become what we hate the most. Selfish, egotistical money-makers always chasing recognition rather than caring about the patients we’re supposed to serve,” you explain. “These new fancy medical centers only those with millions in their bank accounts can afford are where all the funding goes, and those who cater to the underprivileged and uninsured—like us—have to suffer the consequences because we don’t chase after money. I would know; I did my residency at one of those hospitals, and I hated how some of these people treated their patients, so I always tried to use the resources we’ve got to help people, even those who couldn’t afford it. Of course, not all of my fellow residents stayed on that path with me. The more high-risk surgeries, the better the payout, even when unnecessary. Upcoding and needless tests were the standards we were held to. I’ve always hated that. Public hospitals are at the bottom of the food chain, and the patients end up pulling the short straw, but most doctors don’t start with the mindset that it’s just something we have to accept. That lethargy comes with time. And the system.”

“Kind of reminds me of that kook in the black mask,” Ben muses. “With his disbelief in the system and his…his twisted sense of justice.”

You scoff. “Well…”

Your mind flashes back to the other night in that alleyway. The way he interfered when he heard you in trouble. The cockiness he seemed to exceed, but it quickly vanished when he realized you may have risked your life to save someone else’s, but you were not going to leave another person injured. You don’t have a lot of trust in the justice system, but that man seemed… different; like the only way he could believe in justice is when he does something against the persistent injustice that so many turn a blind eye to.

But it’s not just Hell’s Kitchen, which the Man In Black seems to gracefully ignore. He does what he needs to where he thinks he has to, but it is not just the system in his beloved city that is wired against the people it is supposed to protect and serve. It’s not just the justice system or society overall, it’s the government, too. And you truly believe he knows that, too, he simply does not have the manpower to fight all battles at once. No one has.

Ben eyes you curiously, up and down. “What, you don’t agree?” he asks.

You sigh. “I don’t think he has a twisted sense of justice, no.”

“Why? You met him?”

Saying yes would make you an accessory to his crimes. “I’ve heard the same things you have, Ben, and I think he really is trying to change something,” you answer instead.

You find a sudden determination in his eyes as he leans closer. “You treat his victims, right? You’ve seen what he can do with his bare hands. Taking out entire syndicates that have been bothering Hell’s Kitchen for decades, going up against bad seeds and corporations, and he never backs down,” he says.

“If you’re trying to say it’s a bad thing…” You trail off.

“I think it’s a grey area. A fine line.”

“Well, as fine as that line may be, I don’t feel as much empathy for the people he puts in here because I’ve seen what they can do just a few blocks from here,” you state and close the chart in front of you on the counter. “I had to watch lives and families get destroyed. The ones responsible for serving justice either didn’t have the evidence, or they were too late, or the only witnesses died on my table, or—and that happens quite frequently, too—they just didn’t care,” you say. “The times I watched them make arrests, the legal system ended up failing the victims anyway. Now, I’m not saying I condone violence, but this city needs help. Depending on the area, police sometimes don’t even bother to check, and that pisses me off because a lot of the time, tragedies could have been prevented if first responders just got there on time. Or if the perpetrators involved in a crime suffered the consequences for their actions instead of bailing out the same day on a domestic violence charge. I know that the police can't be everywhere at once, but… A lot of people feel safer with this guy out there because they know he tries.”

Ben desperately scribbles along on a small notepad you’re not sure where he got it from. He’s not even wearing a coat.

“It’s like David and Goliath,” you tell him, too animated to pay closer attention to your surroundings. “It’s a contest wherein a smaller, weaker opponent faces a much bigger and stronger adversary. I just… I don’t know. In this city, there are a lot of metaphorically weak individuals who don’t have the means to fight back against the big guy. Like I said, a system rigged against its people does not help the people live a safe and happy life in a city that makes them feel like all their advances are futile.”

“That’s excellent,” he murmurs.

You glimpse down at his hand, frowning. “It’s just my opinion.”

“There’s nothing ‘just’ about it. I know a lot of people feel the way you do, and yes, that’s fucked up. But that’s why we need people like you to speak up. People with more influence than the little guy. People who serve the people.”

“Ben,” you try to get a word in.

“Hear me out,” he says. “If I can get Eric to sign off on it, I want to write a think piece for the public. About the man in the mask. About Hell’s Kitchen and New York, and the things no one likes to talk about. And I’d like to get you on the record.”

“With all due respect—and I do love the concept—I don’t think interviewing me would be such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Your pulse has inevitably gotten higher. Because if my ex finds out where I am, he’ll kill me. The thought screams like a banshee, echoing like the trajectory of a bouncing basketball. It takes you a moment to realize that the thudding is your heart. Dull, aching, and infused with a panic as old as time.

You squeeze the pen in your fist, feeling the plastic crack under the weight. “I can’t have my name or face on the record,” you confess. “It’s a, uh… protection thing.”

The most human thing to ask would be, ‘Protection from what?’ You don’t have to read minds to know that those are the words forming on Ben’s lips the second you offer him an explanation that is not quite the truth. It couldn’t be further from it, but your truth is a tank and tanks can take down everything in their path without suffering as much as a scratch.

You take the stage before he can ask—before you can ride yourself further into this pile of dirt and lies. “I treat people for a living, and my opinions out there… I need to protect myself if someone ever wants to file a lawsuit against me for prejudicial behavior because they could easily use an interview I gave as evidence,” you say. “I could lose my license.” Your license, and your life.

He releases a strangled breath. “Yeah, no. Of course,” Ben says. “I knew that. But I could always refer to my source as anonymous. Most of the time, people don’t care about who said what anyway. They just want something to talk about.”

You want to scream. The alarm is blaring loud enough for the nerves in your body to hear it. The rage is so hard to swallow. Not at him though. It isn’t Ben’s fault that even now, you have to live your life as if it was never yours to begin with.

“But,” he adds upon seeing the look on your face, like a deer in bright headlights, “unless a certain Man in Black decides to leave another stranded criminal on my doorstep, Eric will never sign off on it. I’m sorry,” the exasperation in his voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. “I didn’t mean to jump this at you. I know you have more…important things to do than worry about an old journalist who knows damn well his best days are behind him.”

The shake of your head follows in an instant. His confidence lies drowned in the invisible puddle at your feet. “You don’t always have to go with the flow of time,” you tell him. “If you want to write something, you should. People’s tastes change, but there will always be someone out there who wants to read what you have to say.”

Ben smiles at you. “Does that mean you’ll think about my offer?” he asks.

You return the gesture. “When I’ve done my important things, maybe I will.”

And chances are, you will think about it. You will think about it, and then you will cry over a bottle of wine and wish you were never born or that, once again, he killed you when he had the chance. You will wish that you didn’t run, and you will curse John and your entire existence to hell and back because without him, you wouldn’t have to guard your heart like a maximum-security prison, and you wouldn’t have to hide who you are like a secret from Pandora’s box. In the end, though, you know you will have to decide if he doesn’t forget what he offered you—and knowing Ben Urich, when he is allowed to write about what he wants, he won’t forget the sources he tried to recruit along the way.

You look up suddenly when the sirens start blaring above your head.

Attention all staff, Code Red, Emergency Department. Code Red, Emergency Department. Trauma team to the Emergency Department immediately.

“That sounds bad,” Ben comments.

You turn back to him, but before you can open your mouth and excuse yourself from the conversation (and your internal self-hatred party), one of the nurses behind the counter picks up the phone with a knowing nod. A second passes and all color fades from her skin before her features contort. “I’m sorry, what?!” she damn-near screeches.

You frown back at her. “Hey, Evie,” — you snap your fingers — “What’s going on?”

She moves the speaker away from her lips. “Um,” she stammers. “Have you ever seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s 11 am!” you say, your eyes darting between her and the wall as if that would change anything.

Ben cuts in, “That doesn’t mean much in a city that never sleeps,” he says. “People are always crazy ‘round here.”

You scoff. “Apparently! I’m so sorry, but I’ve gotta–”

“Yeah, no. I know.” He nods, his eyes softening in an instant. “Go!”

With a grateful nod, you leave your work on the counter and head into a sprint down the hall.

A life-saving surgery can take up to several hours. There really is no margin for error, so you tune out the noise of the world outside and focus on the chaos you have to control. You focus on what you know and what you have learned because if you don’t, the person you are cutting into with a scalpel could die at your very touch. For those few critical hours, you are nothing but a doctor, but the world doesn’t stop or disappear in real life when you cease to exist; when you come back after those few hours, the world is still falling apart, and you still have to go back home and face the reality you are forced to live in. But how can you think that when people are fighting for their lives every day before your eyes; when you can try as hard as you want to help them, but you fail more often than you do not? Mental scars often out-rule the physical scars of a trauma patient, and whenever you tell them it gets better, you feel like you are lying to them. Because it never gets better, it feels like.

People are dying and falling apart, and so are you, and it hurts that nothing ever seems to change, not even when you try to tell yourself that people are dependent on you and that your world can’t stop again because this is your job; you signed up for this. But you didn’t sign up for this kind of life. You fell in with the wrong person, craving a love like in the fairytales you used to read as a little girl. You missed the feeling of being loved because the people who were supposed to love you died and fell apart, and you were left fantasizing. It’s a downright mess in your head and everywhere around you, and you are continuously stumbling over the broken glass on your floor, falling into the shards and cutting yourself over and over again until you’re bleeding out but never fully dead.

You spend the next six hours in the operating room, forgetting about Matt and the implications of your dinner. The one you asked him out to. You forget about Ben and his offer, and you think finally, finally, you can breathe. Human anatomy isn’t quite as complicated as this. The one thing you have been worrying most about, the person who has occupied your every waking thought for days now, fades into the shadows for a little while, but then you’re threading the needle through the skin of the man whose life you have saved, and your second to breathe turns into a riot.

Ben’s words return to your conscience; the masked individual he seems most fascinated with moves to the forefront of your fragile mind. He is all over you again, and it sends a thrill down your spine that positively terrifies you; it terrifies you that it doesn’t terrify you. He shouldn’t matter, and you shouldn’t lose another thought to him, but Ben Urich knows how to cast out a net to catch even the most unlikely adversary.

You redial the last number on your phone. Standing in the emergency room that has grown quiet for the afternoon, you feel the weight of the world sinking back in. The clock keeps ticking closer to the end of your shift and inevitably, dinner. Forgetting is a blessing until you realize that thinking about it would have prepared you more, and now you barely have time.

You want to cancel. You should cancel. Claire has not been picking up, and you’re worried about her. But she’s an adult, isn’t she? She pushed you into doing this, and then she bailed. A good friend would at least give you a reason for her change of mind. She hasn’t said a word because she refuses to answer, and it’s starting to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

“This is Claire. Leave a message,” her voicemail greets you.

You sigh. “Hey, I don’t know why you refuse to pick up my calls, but I could use your help. I’m, uh, freaking out about this stupid dinner that wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for what you said, so the least you could do is call me back and help me pick a dress, maybe talk me off the ledge,” you say. Your voice cracks. “Please, Claire, call me back.”

The silence is defeating. You put your phone down, staring at the paperwork before you. You have a lot more of that in your office, but you can’t be bothered to be entirely alone right now. Not when you are fighting a war with yourself inside your head. The one soldier you thought you could count on has retreated from the frontlines.

You look up when your peripheral vision picks up on movement. “Trouble?” one of the nurses asks, motioning to your face.

“Depends on the definition,” you say.

“Hit me with it. Maybe I can help.”

You couldn’t shut up even if you wanted to. “Well… Do you know anything about proper date attire?”

She grins, dropping whatever she was holding before to turn her undivided attention to you. “A date?” she asks. “Well, well, Doc. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, just… a guy I met. A good guy.” You smile sadly at the thought of those beautiful brown eyes, and the green forest that he hides in his irises whenever the light hits his beautiful face just right. The wrinkles, the dimples, and the faint freckles on his nose, too. He is so beautiful.

She leans forward on her elbows on the counter of the nurse’s station. “The good guy who left your number here the other day?”

You raise your eyebrows, flabbergasted. “Wh—” The blood rushes to your face, and you suddenly feel very warm as you gape at her. “Does everyone here know about that?” you ask, your voice bothered on a high-pitched siren of embarrassment.

The nurse only smirks. “He is very handsome,” she states. “It’s hard to forget a face like that. And he’s come here twice. One of those times he sat by your bedside. Now, I don’t know about you, but I would marry a guy like that in a heartbeat. Bodies in the basement included.”

You hope he doesn’t have bodies in his basement. What if he does though? What if he is just another bad choice waiting to be made? What then? You can’t imagine it, and the things you’re feeling… you have only felt them in your mind because nothing you had was ever real, but you love feeling them now more than you thought possible. It’s the fact that you love that treacherous feeling so much that you feel like you’re not thinking clearly enough to make rational decisions. But you don’t want to make rational decisions, you’ve realized. Life shouldn’t be about that. You can’t turn the voice in your head off and make it stop screaming at you, but you know how to feel. If you only knew how to channel that without falling apart at the hands of your self-doubts though. If only you knew.

You run a wary hand over your face. “Okay,” you murmur, closing your chart so you can look at your colleague. “Claire isn’t answering her phone and this date… it’s freaking me out. She said I had to get back out there, but she bailed on me,” you tell her. “I don’t know what to wear or how to behave because the place we’re going to is… fancy? And I don’t even know how to pay for it. I… I don’t know if I should go because the last time I was on a date… let’s just say it didn’t end well. So, if you could just tell me that this is a bad idea and I should take on a second shift instead so I won’t feel bad about lying to him, I would be forever in your debt.”

She shakes her head, not having missed a second of your rambling. “Oh, hell no!” she exclaims.

You match her incredulity, propping your hands up on your hips. “Excuse me?” you ask.

Her head stops, and the way she stands there reminds you of your English teacher from high school. Tall, brunette, and sassy. “You are not bailing on that date like Claire bailed on you just because you’re experiencing anxiety,” the nurse tells you. She’s insistent. You doubt you will get a word in that isn’t an utterance of agreement.

“You don’t understand,” you try to convince her, or are you trying to convince yourself? “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Did you miss the part where I said my last date ended in disaster?”

“So what? I’ve had a lot of disastrous dates.”

“That’s not…ugh!” It is your turn to shake your head, looking at the sterile wall as though it were a screen.

A life built on a lie is not much of a life at all. You have as good a reason as anyone to bail on this date, and it’s not just a disastrous date. You didn’t pick the wrong guy off of Hinge and fall in love with him. What happened to you was different on a level you can’t easily describe, but it also shouldn’t define you; she’s right. Your insecurities are going to be the death of you one day.

“Let me ask you this,” she says. “Do you like him? Or do you just think he’s a really good guy because he was nice to you?”

Your jaw slacks. The Audacity. “I… I think he’s a great guy. Nice. Forthcoming. That’s all,” you answer. It’s not a lie, but it is not the full truth she wanted to hear.

“Uh-huh. I may not be a human polygraph, but I can smell a lie from miles away like a bloodhound. And you, Doctor, are lying and therefore interfering with your treatment.”

“I’m not a patient.”

“Are you though?”

You sigh. You should not have confided in her, but also, perhaps it was the best choice you could have made.

“I like him,” you confess upon looking into her eyes. “Okay? I like him. He’s not just a good guy. He’s… different, and that’s why I like him.”

She stands up straighter, a newfound energy filling her veins. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s forget the whole ‘canceling and using work as an excuse’ thing. What’s the vibe?” she asks.

The change of subject throws you off for a second. You’re walking on eggshells, fragile train tracks you could fall off and electrocute yourself with if you only take one wrong step. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take risks.

“Fancy-ish,” you answer. You don’t have any strength left to fight. “I don’t know. It’s dinner.”

“Dinner’s romantic. Put on a silk or velvet dress because those are the fabrics with less risk of becoming a sensory nightmare, possibly some jewelry, but you don’t need much more than that. He’ll fall in love with your personality first. The rest is just… for your confidence and his imagination.”

She looks so proud of herself. You can’t deny that it’s good advice. It’s not the sound of your voice filling a voicemail to the brim or a solely blue chat history; it’s something you can work with.

You nod slowly. “If I didn’t have mountains of paperwork waiting for me, I would kiss you,” you say.

With a chuckle, she retorts, “Save that for your date.”

“I’m not kissing him.” You grab your pile of work. “It’s just dinner. I don’t even want to kiss him.”

On your way to the elevators, you catch a glimpse of her smirk. She’s not buying it. You don’t want her to. You don’t even trust yourself to tell the truth.

“I don’t,” you say, loud enough for her to hear but mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to kiss him,” you repeat because you don’t.

You don’t want to kiss Matt Murdock.

Except that you do, and you would do anything to make that happen—if your world wasn’t so unfair to begin with.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader #charlie cox #reader insert #doctor!reader #do no harm

31 notes · View notes

ih21506 · 16 hours

Note

Can you do a fic where the reader meets Sam as a teenager in high school, they fall in love, but Sam has to leave? I don't know but I would really like to read something like that :)

| Teenage Heartbreak |

Pairing(s): Teen!Sam Winchester X Teen! Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff / Angst

Warning(s): heartbreak, kissing, mention of arguments.

A/N: I love this idea, and I’ve loved writing it. I was also thinking of doing a second part to this where Sam and reader meet again, years later, so when you’ve read this let me know if that’s something you’d like to see.

——————————————————

The 10th Grade class was settled and seated into their first lesson of the day, the teacher was about to start speaking, then the classroom door opened and in walked boy.

“I think I’m supposed to be in here?” The boy said and the teacher checked a piece of paper on her desk.

“What’s your name?”

“Sam Winchester, Ma’am,”

The teacher confirmed that this Sam Winchester was supposed to be in this classroom, then told him to sit in the empty chair next to you.

“Hi, I’m-” Sam began to say to you but you cut him off.

“I know, I was also in the classroom a minute ago when you said your name,” You said, Sam opened his mouth as if he was about to speak but then he closed it again, “I’m Y/n,”.

You stuck your hand out towards him, and he shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Sam said with a small smile.

“So where’d you move from?” You asked Sam as the two of you walked down the school hallway.

“Nowhere really, my family moves all over the place, never stay in one place for long,” He explained and your brows scrunched together.

“Doesn’t it get lonely? Moving all the time?” You questioned and Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“Not really, I guess I’m just used to it by now,” Sam told you, the two of you then arrived at your locker.

“Am I right when saying you’ll need to catch up with the school work?”

“You are,”

“Well…” You picked up a pen, and tore some paper out of one of your books, then wrote down your address, “Come over after school, I’ll help you,”

—

“You didn’t,” You smiled and Sam nodded his head.

“Yep, you should have seen how angry our father was when he found my brother and I,” Sam said to you.

It was another night of you and Sam studying together, you sat up with your legs crossed and Sam laid on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. By now Sam was pretty caught up with school, m you just used studying as an excuse to hang out.

“What about your mom? You don’t talk about her much,” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“My- um… My mom died when I was a baby,” Sam said and now you felt bad for bringing it up.

“Sam I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-” You began speaking but Sam cut you off, placing his hand on yours.

“It’s ok, really. Like I said, she died when I was a baby, so…” He told you.

Looking down at your hands, you lifted yours with Sam’s, interlocking your fingers, and Sam followed your actions.

You looked from your hands and back to Sam, for a moment the both of you sat in a comfortable silence, then he pushed himself up and pressed his lips against yours.

“Y/n! I’m going to the store, do you need anything?!” Your mom called from downstairs, making you and Sam pull apart.

“No!” You yelled back. The sound of the front door opening and closing soon followed, then you and Sam laughed.

“Let’s go out somewhere tomorrow, somewhere nice, I’ll pick you up,” Sam said and a smile formed on your lips.

“Like a date?”

“Yeah, a date,”

—

Your first date with Sam was perfect, he was perfect, and there have been many more since.

This being one of them… The two of you had a blanket laid out in the park grass with a picnic basket sat close by. Sam sat with his hands placed behind him, propping himself up, while you laid with your head in his lap as you read your book, occasionally sharing random facts with him.

“I got you something,” Sam suddenly said as he reached into his pocket. You sat up on your knees and Sam pulled out a small square box, handing it to you.

“What is it?” You asked, and Sam laughed at you.

“Open it and you’ll see, won’t you?”

Rolling your eyes at him playfully, you pulled off the lid, which revealed a simple silver chain that had a star pendent, with a small opal crystal in the middle of it, attached to the chain.

You had always been fascinated with stars, astrology, and things like that, something Sam was well aware of, which made you love the necklace even more.

“Sam, I love it, thank you,” You spoke as you carefully pulled the necklace out of the box, “Help me put it on?”

“Yea, of course,” Sam sat up fully and took the necklace, then you turned around and held up your hair so it wouldn’t get in the way.

When Sam fastened the clasp, the thin chain fell perfectly around your neck.

You turned around and hugged Sam, his left arm wrapped around your waist while he used his other to prop himself up again. Pulling your head back, you kissed Sam and he happily kissed you back.

“Y/n I-” Sam began to speak, but then an unknown voice came from behind you, cutting Sam off.

“Isn’t this adorable,”. You turned your head and was about to say to something to this stranger, but then Sam spoke first making you quickly realise the guy wasn’t a stranger.

“Dean? What the hell are you doing here?!” Sam asked, sounding irritated.

“Dad and I just got back from our… work trip. Imagine my surprise when I found out my baby brother has a girlfriend,” This Dean said with a smirk, then Sam turned to you.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll be back in just a minute,” Sam told you, then he was up on his feet and dragging his brother away.

From what you could see, the two were arguing, so to preoccupy yourself, you picked your book back up and began ‘reading’ it, occasionally looking up to glance at Sam and Dean.

Eventually, Sam returned back to you and sat in his previous position, so you placed your book back down.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, concern written all over your face.

“Everything’s more than okay,” Sam told you, with a small smile.

“M’kay, if you say so,” You hummed, Sam then pulled you back towards him by your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I do say so,” He said back, his eyes flicked down to your lips for a moment before they moved back up to your eyes and he whispered, “I love you,”

You were slightly taken aback by his words, but once they sunk in and you had processed them in your head, a smile formed on your lips.

“I love you too,”

—

Sam seemed a little off recently, from what he tells you after showing up on yours and your mothers doorstep most evenings, he’s been getting into a lot of arguments with his father.

He never specified what they were about, but they seemed bad. And thankfully your mom was quite fond of Sam so she didn’t mind him being around so much…

Tonight was another one of those nights, around an hour ago, Sam showed up and now the two of you laid in your room. The two of you had fallen into a comfortable silence, you laid on your back and Sam had his head resting on your chest while you played with his hair.

“My dad’s moving us to another town, most likely another state.” Sam told you, breaking the silence, and you took a deep breath.

“When?” You asked, and Sam was hesitant to answer.

“Tomorrow morning…” He said and you sat up.

“What? How long have you known about this?”

“Two weeks, it’s why I’ve been in so many arguments with him, I’ve been trying to stop it,”

“Sam, we can still stay in touch there are ways of doing that, why do you sound like it’s impossible to do that?” You said to Sam and he sat up this time.

“We move a lot, this is probably the longest we’ve stayed in one place, we never go to the same place twice, and there’s times where I’m not able to talk to people outside of my family for weeks, a whole month sometimes,” Sam explained and you were in shock.

“Jesus Christ Sam, you sound like your on the run or something!” You said in disbelief, and Sam sighed in defeat.

“It’s just my dads work… I’m sorry,” Sam kissed your cheek before he got up from your bed and headed towards the door.

Tears flooded your eyes as you watched Sam walk away. When he got to your bedroom door and was about to leave you quickly got off your bed and practically ran after him.

“Sam, wait,” You spoke, he turned around and you placed your hands on his cheeks, “Do you have to go home tonight?”

“I can be picked up in the morning,” He told you, and you placed your lips on his.

“Stay tonight…”

The next morning came too fast for your liking, one minute you was laid in bed with your head on Sam chest while he held you, and the next Sam was being called downstairs by your mother telling him his brother was here.

When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you hugged Sam for a good two minutes before he placed a kiss on your forehead.

Neither of you could bring yourselves to say a last goodbye, and before either of you had a chance to second guess yourselves and say something, Sam walked past his brother and out of the door.

“Y/n, I’m sorry we have to leave like this,” Dean said to you as he stepped out onto the porch.

“I hope whatever it is your father does for work, is worth it to him, because all it does is hurt Sam,” You said then closed the front door.

Turning around, you saw your mom stood with a sympathetic look on her face before you broke down in tears.

“Oh c’mere, sweetheart,” She told you and you walked into her arms.

“It hurts mom,” You cried as it felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces.

Outside, Sam sat in the back of the impala, his eyes fixated on the neighbourhood outside as tears threatened to fall down his cheeks.

“Sammy you good?” Dean asked as he sat next to their father in the front.

“Yeah… amazing,” Sam said, his voice void of any enthusiasm or emotion.

“Don’t worry kid, you’ll find someone just as good as her,” John said as he started the engine.

Dean looked back at his younger brother for a moment, guilt settling in his chest as the impala began to move.

A tear escaped down Sam’s cheek, as the silent suffering of heart break overwhelmed him.

He hoped that he could feel okay eventually, but he also hoped his father was wrong. Sam truly believed there would never be anyone as good to him and as perfect as you was…

——————————————————

#dean winchester #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #spn #spnfandom #supernatural #fluff #angst #sad ending

28 notes · View notes

vanishingstarrs · 1 day

Text

midnight dreams

katsuki bakugo x reader, slow burn, hurt x comfort, anxiety, fluff, sfw

part 2/3; not too sure how i feel about this yet... thinking one more part to this little drabble ?? (funnily enough only post these after midnight)

It was late. Again.

You’d actually managed to fall asleep pretty early that afternoon, but woke up shortly from a nightmare. One where your class failed at bringing Midoriya home and things went awry quickly after that, the guilt from your dream not being so far from reality plagued your conscious now as you sat in the living room by yourself. You had considered passing by Bakugo’s room since last time he'd extended the surprising offer to just... be there.

Despite this, you didn't have it in your heart to actually take him up on it. You'd made it as far as his door before marching yourself back the other way.

You sighed as you read the same page of your book for the third time without actually taking it in.

Bakugo still occupied your thoughts.

The morning after you two had spoke you had awoken to find all your dishes already clean for you. When you asked your friends which one of them you had to thank for the favor, they all looked at you with raised eyebrows and confused frowns, they’d believed you’d cleaned up after yourself. You thought long and hard about whether you did and maybe you’d just been hallucinating, but you remembered vividly writing a second note in regards to doing them later when you woke up. Momo had said she’d been the first one up and saw no such note, just the one to help themselves to freshly baked cookies.

And so that only left your sort of late night partner in crime…

Surely Bakugo hadn’t came back to the kitchen after walking you to your room to clean? Or wake up extra early to? You racked your brain for answers, but couldn’t think of a logical explanation for why he’d do any of that for you.

You felt a frown take over your face as these things resurfaced on your mind.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, turning around to find Bakugo standing there staring at you as if you’d grown two heads.

“What?”

“Kirishima said you went to bed hours ago.” He stated,“Why aren’t you asleep.”

It didn’t even sound like a question the way he spoke to you. You stared at him now as you thought about it, and it was true, you had seen Kirishima last. You had noticed him making sure all the doors were locked and bid him a good night before going your separate ways. Your attempt at rest hadn't lasted very long.

You patted the space next to you as invitation just in case he wanted to sit down next to you, you gave him a shrug as he actually came around to your side of the sofa,“Slept. Didn’t take. How are your injuries?”

You hadn’t been brave enough to ask last time, and you couldn’t help notice he was still wearing bandages even now.

Bakugo placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward,“They’re fine. Getting better. It’s mainly just the arm now, I gotta change the bandages every now and then. I woke up ‘cause I forgot to before I fell asleep and now Kirishima’s snoring loud as fuck, couldn’t wake him.”

“I can help.” You offered before you could change your mind. Your mouth had a knack for getting you into things like this, you’d just blurt things out and before it was too late…

He looked back at you,“Nah, it’s okay.”

“No, really, I can help.” You stood up, adamant as you grabbed his good arm and pulled him up with all your might,“C’mon, I’m pretty good actually, my father had a healing quirk.”

“Had?” Bakugo asked.

You didn’t turn around as you led him into the main bathroom where you knew there was a first aid kit, all you did was shrug.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You sighed, you didn’t really want to get into that. You flicked on the lights and pointed to the toilet,“Sit.”

He listened surprisingly and you dug around the cabinets for only a few seconds, successfully finding all that you needed and turning around to face your patient when you realized something. His injuries… they spanned well into his shoulder and they'd be hard to get to, unless...

You swallowed nervously,“Shirt off.”

Bakugo’s eyebrows flew up.

“Not like that.” You blushed,“Just need it off so I can get your bandages off. It’s on your shoulder, isn’t it?”

“And my stomach.” He revealed at the same time as he removed his shirt, exposing his chest,“Got stabbed a couple times.”

A couple times?!

Dear god, help me... was all you could think.

At first, you couldn’t help stare for all the wrong reasons, at him, at the hard work he’d put into his body. He was strong, that much was obvious. But he’d also been injured terribly. Your lips turned downward, no longer distracted by his abs and instead focused on removing the old bandages,“You’re brave, but it was stupid when you did that, no offense.”

“We’re heroes, aren’t we?” He asked.

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing.” He faced the other way, like he was avoiding your gaze,“It’s what we signed up for, they needed our help, besides... my body moved before I could think.”

“We’re students actually.” You corrected,“Don’t you think it’s too heavy a burden for a bunch of dumb kids? And what about Midoriya? He’s still out there.”

“We’re not dumb. He is.” He rolled his eyes,“Thinks we’re better off, safer without him. He doesn’t know. But I’ve been talking to the others, we might have a plan.”

“Dangerous?”

“What do you think?” He asked.

Your eyes landed on the scar tissue on his shoulder, it wasn’t pretty. They’d done a good job getting him on the path to healing, nevertheless he still had a ways to go. If Bakugo could blindly take all this for someone he claimed to hate, what was stopping you from reaching the same level of bravery?

You'd been thinking about this a lot lately, you couldn't help feel they were asking too much of you guys sometimes. Then you felt guilty for thinking that. When you started at U.A. you'd made a vow to train like heroes, to learn from them. This was what your future would look like, why was it so hard? You thought back to your mentors and how they were always there to encourage you and your classmates, how they never hesitated to protect everyone against the several attacks you'd faced.

You worked in silence for a second, seeing him wince out of the corner of your eye as you cleaned up the area a bit.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

“Count me in.” You said decidedly as you reached for gauze and tape,"Also you might wanna start letting these breathe, they're looking a lot better and I think that would help."

He looked up, shocked,“What?”

“Your cuts—"

"Not that, dumbass."

"Oh." You shrugged,"You know, whatever you and the others are planning. Include me, I wanna help."

He looked hesitant,"You sure?”

“Mhm.” You adjusted your glasses before pointing at his stomach,“Want me to check that one?”

He hesitated before sitting up straighter and nodding.

You quickly, but carefully removed the tape and peeled away the gauze. This one might’ve been worse, but you didn’t say a word as you prepared a few cotton rolls to clean around it as best as you could. You were sure both of you were holding your breath as you did so, and he inhaled sharply when you pressed a little too hard.

“Sorry.”

“Quit it, you're doing me a favor." He leaned back a little to give you better access,"You sure you're up for helping?"

You sighed,"I'm sure." Your fingers hovered over the injury, and you looked up just in time to find him already looking at you. “Kinda makes you seem like you don’t hate Midoriya, after all.”

He scoffed and you grinned.

“Bakugo—”

“Katsuki.” He cut you off, gesturing to his exposed chest,“You may as well call me by my first name at this point.”

“Okay…” you inhaled deeply, before saying,"Katsuki…”

You were sure he was expecting something serious as you finished covering up his injury, but you wanted to lighten the mood.

“Wanna watch some tv with me?” You smiled big,“There’s a new show I’ve been meaning to start.”

He eyed you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, it was hard for you to read him. It was making your head spin, and you quickly stopped trying.

He put his shirt back on and started helping you put everything away, he didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, and so you led the way back to the living room and sat back where you’d been before and then... he left the room.

You sighed, guess not. You reached for the remote anyway and glanced back again just in case he’d been messing with you, then again... he wasn’t the kind of guy that made jokes. At least, you didn’t think he was.

You turned on the tv and put it at a low volume, going through the provided streaming services in order to find the one you needed. You were just about to click start when he spoke.

“Weren’t gonna wait for me, brat?”

A blanket was tossed onto your head and you quickly removed it, surprise written on your face as Bakugo came around the same end and sat next to you. You stared at the blanket and then looked back at him.

“You get cold easily.”

You nodded, dumbfounded, it was true, but how did he know that? You were cold all the time, actually, it was a side effect of your quirk.

You placed the blanket over your lower half and pressed play, a part of you fixating not only on the fact that he’d noticed enough about you to bring you a blanket, but also that it was his blanket. For the first five minutes of the show, you couldn’t focus, you were surrounded by his smell. It was so strong with him next to you and his blanket on your lap. He smelled amazing.

Eventually, you relaxed. Both of you did.

Bakugo had initially scoffed at the choice of show, but didn't demand you change it and you took it as a good sign.

“These characters are fucking stupid.” He scowled and you giggled, you were wondering when he’d break the silence to make a comment. It surprisingly took more than one episode.

“He’s in love with her, Katsuki.” You didn’t notice how easily his first name slipped past your tongue as soon as that barrier had first broken, you went on to explain further,“People do lots of stupid things when they’re in love.”

He rolled his eyes,“The guy still sucks.”

You shrugged, but didn't disagree.

"No baking tonight?" He asked, out of the blue.

You shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow. Those cookies were gone before I even got to 'em, did you manage to snag one?"

"One." He said,"Or two."

You lit up,"Really? You liked them that much?"

He shrugged.

"Any requests for next time?"

Somehow, you’d gotten closer and you could feel his warmth just from the touch of his thigh. You couldn't cover up your shiver, hoping he took it as you still being cold.

He seemed to think about it,"Like muffins, I guess."

"Chocolate chip? Banana? Strawberry...?" You gave a few options, you wanted to make sure you knew exactly what he liked. He was doing you a favor as much as you'd done him one considering he was always the first one to head to bed. His company was… nice. You may as well bake him something as thanks after tonight.

"Apple cinnamon. And I like that shit they put on top—"

"The crumble?" You laughed at how he explained it.

"Yeah." He leaned back against the sofa. Neither of you had been watching the show anymore and the tv seemed to know since the screen had gone black and the words "Still watching?" took over. You didn't care to click yes or no, knowing it'd shut down on it's own.

"I'll make some especially for you." You said around a yawn.

He stood up,"C’mon, I’ll walk you.”

You couldn’t help it; you pouted. You really wanted to keep talking to him, you found that he was actually a good listener and when he did speak, his voice was soothing. Different from how you'd known him before, you didn't know what it was that had changed.

He rolled his eyes,“That shit's not gonna work on me, come on. You gotta sleep. And I’m tired.”

Bakugo extended his hand to you and you took it as a sign to return his blanket to him, he scoffed and moved it into his other hand before placing the same hand out to you again.

You didn't need help standing, but you took it and he helped you up before placing the blanket around your shoulders. Okay...

You started walking and thought you might've felt his hand at your back.

"I'll leave my door open again." He said, unprompted.

There was that offer again. Your heart felt full.

"Mine will be too." You smiled up at him just as you reached your room,"Night... Katsuki."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #part two #unedited

45 notes · View notes

xoxochb · 2 days

Text

˗ˋ there you’ll stand next to me, all at once, the rest is history ˊ˗

warnings: hangover

series masterlist

summary: you wake up in a strange room, who’s is it?

A/N: two chapters in one day, I’m pretty proud of myself

you wake up with a splitting pain in your head, one of the worst you’ve ever gotten. you close your eyes tight at the feeling

what time is it? where are you? why is it so bright in this room, my god- don’t you have blackout curtains, why won’t they work?

tears fall from your eyes from the excruciating pain in your head

your memories slowly start making their way back to you. you open your eyes slowly taking in your surroundings.

where are you? that’s a good question- you have no clue where you are

who’s room is this? who’s bed is this?

your thoughts quickly vanish when you hear the door open, a voice soon speaking, “oh, good, your awake!”

you would recognize that voice anywhere

“jason?” you mutter

“uhm- yeah, sorry, I was going to take you to your house but I knew that your parents were probably going to be home so I took you to my house because mine my parents aren’t home, and I swear I didn’t do anything, I slept on the couch all night”

you open your eyes slowly, and you stay silent as your eyes meet his ocean blue ones

“here- take this” he hands you a pill and a cup of water as he sits at the end of the bed and you take it quickly

you sit up, the pain in your head getting worse by the second, “thanks…” you rub your head

“yeah… well, I could take you home for real this time once your hangover is gone”

“yeah that would- wait actually could you drop me off at piper’s? I have to talk to her”

“of course, I can do that too. do you want any breakfast?” he asks softly

“coffee would be amazing” you say with a soft smile

“okay, I’ll be right back”

a few moments later he comes back with a mug in his hand, and gives it to you. for the next hour you talked with him about anything that came to mind

why did you feel so comfortable being around him? you couldn’t feel like this- he’s your enemy. yet you still allow him to be with you and drive you to your best friend’s house

- 💌 -

“piper, my god, it was all over the place, I don’t even know where to start” you search your mind for the right words to describe your unexpected morning

“well you better find out, I want to hear everything” she smiles

“well first, where on earth were you? you said you wouldn’t leave me!” you hit her shoulder, an angry look on your face

“I told you I went to talk to annabeth but you were to wasted to care about anything!” she hits you back, and when I went back to find you, you were talking to jason, I didn’t want to ruin the moment. now tell me about this morning, I want all the details”

“well I don’t know- I woke up with an awful hangover, I have no clue who’s bedroom I’m in, then jason walks in and he gives me a pill for my hangover, explains what happened, he said he knew my parents were home, so he took me to his house because his parents weren’t home, then he gave me coffee, we talked for a while then he brought me here, that’s it, I don’t know what else you’re looking for” you give her a confused look

“I said details, woman! you gave me snippets” she says loudly

“well that’s all that happened” you state

“you’re so lame! what did you guys talk about?” she smirks

“stop.” you sigh, “we just talked about anything, just random stuff… books at one point, did you know he liked to read? he never seemed like the reading type, but anyways he recommended me a few books and I gave him a few recommendations. we talked about music for a while because I mentioned taylor swift, he said he’ll give her a try, so I’m excited to see how he likes her- oh my god, piper” you trembled

“what?” she asks worriedly

“I’m in love with jason grace”

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo spoilers #pjo #percy series #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #jason grace imagines #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace #xoxochb

28 notes · View notes

humbledragon669 · 2 days

Text

S1E1 – In The Beginning Write Up P3

– Five Years Later (allegedly) and The Present Day

Alright so let’s address the elephant in the room here shall we? The signpost tells us, in no uncertain terms, that the story line has moved on by five years. I have a serious issue with that assertion, and it’s not just because this is in direct contradiction to the storyline in the book. It goes a little something like this:

I cannot believe that Aziraphale and Crowley have left the Antichrist alone for the first five years of his life.

Even if we’re generous here and say that Crowley steps in to replace a nanny that has been present for Warlock’s early years, it simply doesn’t make any sense that they would have sat back and let him develop on his merry way for the most influential years of his life (sorry Neil, but I will die on this hill). The book’s timeline here makes a lot more sense – that both Aziraphale and Crowley are inserted into Warlock’s life within a week of his birth, Aziraphale as the gardener and Crowley as the nanny. At the age of five, they both leave and return immediately as tutors for him, ensuring that they are both present for his entire childhood. With that in mind, I’m going to do something potentially controversial and adopt the book timeline as fact. It just makes more sense. Also that will make my fanfic ideas not only possible but genuinely really feasible. Honestly, I don’t know why the timeline deviates from the book here – this matter aside, the series is a truly excellent adaptation of the book (judged by the fact that I never said “that’s not how it happened in the book” for the whole of series 1. There are a lot of media writers that could learn a lot from Neil on this point – I’m looking at you Discovery of Witches series 2 creative team).

There are two things I find interesting about the short scene that follows (no, one of them is not how well David carries off a skirt, though I do really appreciate the Mary Poppins reference with that costume). Firstly, the positioning of Aziraphale as a gardener. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that the idea of a garden is brought up again, but I can’t quite make the connection myself. Perhaps there isn’t meant to be one. That said, I would have thought, given his character, Aziraphale might have been more suitable as something like a butler (it would even give him the opportunity to steal food!), which would likely give him more opportunity to interact with Warlock throughout his childhood, so I do feel like there’s something here.

On a tangential (and impossible-to-be-related) note, I saw Nye a few days ago (a play about the founder of the NHS, starring Michael, for those who don’t know what this is) and there was a line in it about Nye and his wife believing their love to be like a garden – he planted the love and she tended to it. It was truly beautiful and touching. I felt like I had a sort of light bulb moment about gardens in GO and then realised that the two productions have nothing to do with one another!

The second thing I noted about this sequence is more something of note than something that has meaning. Having discussed the music/soundtrack for this series in a previous write up, it should come as no surprise that there is a cute little parallel here: the melody Crowley uses for the lullaby he sings to Warlock is the same as the melody for the second motif in the theme tune. It’s slowed down quite considerably, but still recognisable.

Original theme:

Lullaby:

I have to say, I’m a little disappointed we don’t get to hear the rendition of “Three Little Pigs” that we’re treated to in the book. I am not ashamed to say that I laughed very long and very hard when I read it – I have a pretty dark sense of humour. Perhaps this was a little too much for the good ol’ BBC?

Quick item of note from the next scene at Heaven/Hell HQ – this series has escalators instead of an elevator. I had originally assumed that this was the same building as we see being used in series 2 to gain access to Heaven but looking at the background when Crowley and Aziraphale enter the building, it’s clear that it’s a completely different building, which just makes me wonder where exactly the HQ entrance is. There’s a really clever piece of editing at use here too, one which I actually didn’t spot until I was doing this write up.

I hadn’t noticed previously that the duplicate image of the escalator on the floor of the lobby ISN’T a reflection of the physical escalators. On the left, we can see Crowley’s image on a set of escalators going down, whilst we see no reflection of Aziraphale. We even get to see Crowley approach the escalator in the “reflection” after he disappears through the floor, whilst Aziraphale’s reflection disappears from the floor as he approaches the stairs, and both of these things happen as they walk across an area that ripples like water under their feet. I don’t think there’s any hidden meaning in this, I just think it’s a really cool piece of film.

When we see the angel and demon giving their reports to their respective head offices, it’s made clear to us that neither authority has any awareness of their collaboration. In fact, Aziraphale is still held in high esteem by Gabriel and Michael (though perhaps not Uriel and Sandalphon – those two always look like someone just pissed on their nice suits) and is even given permission to continue on his apparently futile mission. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of Crowley, but as Liggur said earlier in the episode, it would be a funny thing if demons could trust one another anyway.

It’s nice to see that Heaven isn’t so busy that it can’t produce a newspaper for its earthbound agents, complete with weak headlines, worthy of any local rag:

I do not think it a coincidence that the newspaper has been given the title of “Observer” – after all, it’s pretty much all they do up there isn’t it? Watch people? Other than planning Armageddon I mean…

The short scene on the bus also shows us a little more of the dynamic between Crowley and Aziraphale when it comes to planning. It’s clear that the angel is relying on the demon to lead the way and he looks really worried when it’s made apparent that Crowley doesn’t have a plan for a potential emergency situation.

Quick note about the Hell Hound – he’s being housed in a room with a number on it – 2549. Does this mean there have been 2548 Hell Hounds before him? Hastur certainly indicates that he isn’t the only Hell Hound they have (but he is the biggest). Where are the rest of them?

The conversation (which takes place in the grounds of Crystal Palace Dinosaur Park - the repeated reference to dinosaurs being a big joke in this scene is not lost on me) on the park bench is the first time we hear Crowley call Aziraphale by the name “Angel”. Neil has confirmed (here and here) that this isn’t anything other than a factual name to use but I can’t help but feel like it’s affectionate. It’s certainly very familiar and it’s interesting to see that Aziraphale doesn’t repay the favour; perhaps this is to do with the meaning of the words – after all, calling someone “demon” doesn’t feel very polite, does it? Or perhaps it’s just that “Aziraphale” is a bit of a mouthful to say. This is also the first time we are let in to the secret of them having their own side:

AZIRAPHALE: And if he does name it? CROWLEY: Then you and I have lost.

The conversation around the potential murder of an 11-year-old boy presents an interesting side of the relationship between the pair. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking that the suggestion that Aziraphale is capable of killing an innocent child (even if he is the Antichrist) is nothing short of laughable, and Crowley would know this. This suggestion is shared with a rare occurrence of Crowley communicating “secretly” with Aziraphale where the angel doesn’t get the message, and the irony is that Crowley isn’t even being that subtle about it. There’s no doubt that Aziraphale really doesn’t get the drift though:

It’s painful to watch Aziraphale’s thought process here. He knows that Crowley’s logic actually makes sense but he can’t tally that with his own moral compass – it’s a struggle that I think the vast majority of us would go through if put in the same position. Sadly, it’s not like Crowley has much other choice than to suggest Aziraphale does the deed – if he were to do it himself, the repercussions for him would be unthinkable. It’s clear that this is the first time he has raised this idea in the eleven years they’ve been doing this job together and he can’t even say it without his voice breaking (see “one life against the universe”), and once it’s clear that Aziraphale isn’t open to the idea he doesn’t push him or lose his temper. He watches Aziraphale carefully for the whole exchange, without changing his expression, which I take to mean he’s watching for any signs that he’s pushing him too far. All of this tells me he’s only done it because they’re getting desperate.

Alright, it’s time to move on to the little “magic” routine. I find this whole sequence adorable - can we say 1941 vibes? I do find it interesting just how quickly Aziraphale’s mood changes with the idea of him being able to perform some magic again – he’s gone from the contemplation of the ethics of an actual trolley problem (see here if you don’t know what that is) to a smiling, bubbly angel complaining that his companion is “no fun” in mere seconds. For someone who lives their life in eons of centuries instead of years or decades, he’s a remarkably fickle being! It’s pretty blurry in this shot, but just look how happy this angel is:

The hidden communication thread is resumed at normal operation here as Crowley knows exactly what Aziraphale means when he says he could “entertain” – he knows exactly what he means by this and is not amused by the implications.

I also find Crowley’s use of the word “demeaning” an interesting choice here. Usually we might say embarrassing; in fact the dictionary definition of demeaning is to lower the character of somebody, or to make them feel less respected. Whilst I can fully understand why Crowley might be embarrassed by Aziraphale’s pathetic attempts at illusionary magic, I am less clear on why he would find it demeaning. UNLESS. Unless my suppositions about the state of their relationship are correct, in which case they would have already been together (romantically) for almost eleven years at this point. Then it makes a weird sort of sense.

The comic little squabble that follows also makes perfect sense in this context. This couple are in no mood to compromise on this matter; Aziraphale will not be told that he’s a shit magician because he has too much fun doing it (this despite the fact that we know he and Crowley agreed he shouldn’t do magic anymore, but unlike in 1941, there’s no risk of anybody getting hurt if he drops a coin on the floor) and Crowley will not concede that he’s being a killjoy (which goes quite against his character). The spat concludes with Crowley delivering a passive-aggressive threat to Aziraphale, which you can see he instantly reconsiders with a head tilt - probably wise considering how unimpressed the angel is with it.

Side note: the watch that Crowley is wearing (seen at Warlock’s birthday party) appears to be a Devon Tread 1 A, coming in at a cool 18.5K (dollars). The book does make mention of his watch being fucking fashionably expensive but it was custom made for him, with an extra time zone for “Another Place” where the time is always “Too Late”.

Another side note: how many dens did you make as a child? A fair few I’d bet if you were anything like me. Did they ever look as cool as the one that The Them has? Me neither. I mean, just look at all those guns and skeletons used for decoration:

Once we’re back at the book shop, I find it interesting that Aziraphale is intending to imbibe (we don’t actually see him drink any of it) whatever spirit he’s given to Crowley. I’ve no doubt it’s good quality, it’s just unusual to see him drinking hard liquor – perhaps this is simply due to the seriousness of the situation he finds himself in. Their conversation about lying in memos to head office also suggests that Crowley might not be the only one lying to his bosses:

CROWLEY: Everyone stretches the truth a bit in memos to head office, you know that.

Is it me, or is there a sense of “I told you so” to Aziraphale’s lack of sympathy towards Crowley’s despair? Some might say it’s reminiscent of the way a stereotypical nagging wife speaks to their long-suffering husband when he’s done something wrong…

In amongst the dark threat of impending Armageddon, we’re still treated to a little comedy (and perhaps another Clue as to the current status of the relationship between the angel and demon). Crowley’s snappy, and ill-considered, outburst in response to Aziraphale’s almost apologetic confession that he’s wearing a new cologne is well worth a word or two. Let’s say for a second that this pair are not romantically involved at this point in time – is it not a bit strange to think that the person you’re with knows you so well that they would detect that you’re wearing a different perfume than usual? I would think you’d have to be spending a LOT of time in VERY close proximity to that person for that piece of information to be anywhere near their radar. And what’s with the angel’s apologetic tone? Why would you feel the need to be sorry about trying out a new cologne? Aziraphale doesn’t look particularly shocked when Crowley announces that he knows what he smells like, and Crowley’s tone and facial expression suggests he thinks this piece of knowledge is a pretty obvious one.

Here’s my last observation for this episode. Check out just how earnest Crowley is in this delivery:

Despite Aziraphale’s response that he thinks he obviously would, I don’t really feel like he believes this stance, and he’d do anything not to believe that what Crowley is saying is true.

And so concludes the first episode! If you’ve made it this far through my write-up(s) so far, I commend and thank you. I’ll start work on the next episode over the next few days, but in the meantime I’ll also write a master post that I’ll add to as I go along. As always, comments, questions, discussions and any other engagements are welcome.

#good omens #episode analysis #aziracrow #good omens season 1 #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands #good omens gabriel #hastur good omens #good omens ligur #good omens michael #good omens uriel #good omens sandalphon #hellhound #good omens adam #head canon #alternative timeline

24 notes · View notes