#this was supposed to be like a paragraph or two while i brushed my teeth and got ready for bed but
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no te contaron mal- Pablo Gavi (english version)
after an argument, pablo let’s his actions speak louder than his words. 
warnings: curse words,cheating, asshole! gavi, gaslighting. no happy ending
#notes: i’m a little rusty with my writing, feedback is appreciated. please like & reblogㅤᵕ̈ (lowercase intended)
you were sat on your couch trying to shut the world around you. you couldn’t stand it anymore, you couldn’t stand not being able to voice your thoughts around your boyfriend without an argument spurring up afterwards. a relationship was supposed to be built up with trust and communication, you always told yourself that but you never knew when it disappeared in your relationship.
after a while you opened your eyes and let out a sigh. your eyes adjusted to the light, looking around you were trying to locate your phone. feeling somewhat calmed down you unlocked your phone and opened the messages app, you clicked on the pinned conversation and a photo of Pablo and you for your year anniversary adorned the contact information. you sent him two text; one asking where he was, the other reminding him to be careful, no matter how mad you were at him you could never wish for him to be in danger. swiping out the conversation you opened up your best friends messages, your eyes skimmed the last texts you had sent her, paragraphs of you telling her about the argument Pablo and you had. averting your eyes to the bottom of your texts you saw that she read them but never answered. weird
the digital clock on the coffee table read 2:56 am and you decided to get yourself ready for bed. heading upstairs you entered the bathroom and focused on getting the mascara clumps from under your eyes off your face and brushing your teeth. leaving the bathroom you made the bed and decided to try to go to sleep now knowing if you’ll be able to while Pablo wasn’t home.
the next morning you woke up and patted down the spot next to you. empty. you opened your eyes while trying to adjust to the light around your room, you sat up and reached for your phone on the nightstand. your notification bar showing you a bunch of notifications some from your friends, others from your siblings, a handful from twitter, and from your best friend. opening your siblings text first you saw all of them sending you pitiful texts and a lot of links to post, and articles. clicking on the links pictures of your best friend leaving a house party in a disheveled state hand in hand with your Pablo. you were in disbelief and denial, there had to be a reasonable explanation on why your best friend and your boyfriend were leaving a house party hand and hand and looking like that, but as you opened your best friends messages, you knew all the allegations and rumors were true. rows and rows of sorrys, and he said you guys weren’t together were displayed on your screen. you scoffed and left her on read, she wasn’t worth a reply from you not now and especially fucking never.
hearing a door closing you head shot up, hearing footsteps approaching your room and the door opening you were face to face with your cheater of a boyfriend.
“you better have a good ass explanation for this Pablo, or god hopes i don’t fucking knock some fucking sense into you, you prick.” you yelled out exasperated.
“i’m pretty sure y/b/n already texted you what happened, and you saw all those articles, there’s nothing for me to explain.” he replied nonchalantly.
“what the fuck Pablo, how can you just stand there so calmly, we’ve been together for over a god damn year and you go throw all away and with my fucking best friend, you’re a coward! how did it even happen, why the fuck did it even happen?” you yelled in need of answers
“i wasn’t thinking right, and she sent me a text telling me that there was a house party and that if i wanted to go and i accepted. i got there and we were just talking and then we kissed, it turned into more than that and she guided me into this room. the urge and curiosity got the best of me i just wanted to see what it was like if me and her… you know.” He was going to continue before you cut him off
“no i don’t fucking know Pablo because never has it crossed my mind to go fuck your best friend, never! did you always think of her like that or what?”
“ no y/n i didn’t but she was all over me and i was drunk out of my mind and she was there and you weren’t. you weren’t there with me so it’s your fault i got drunk, you were the reason i was drinking if you had just not caused the argument none of this would’ve happened! at least i didn’t do it with multiple girls it was just her that’s all. it meant nothing and you know that.” he finished off
“oh! do i really know that? and what do you want me to do to get on my knees and thank you that it was only her? huh! it would’ve hurt less if it was some random fucking girl but no you wanted to sleep with my best friend someone i’ve known for years!” you yelled back while getting off the bed in search of a bag and your necessities. you didn’t even pay to mind Pablo following you around you just wanted to grab your shit and leave.
“what are you doing?” he said while grabbing the bag from your hands. you looked at him like if he was stupid and snatched your bag back. he continued to pester you until you burst.
“you’re fucking delusional if you think i’m staying with a cheater that fucked my best friend!”
“but i still love you.”
that made you laugh. you genuinely laughed in his face and looked at him to see if he was seriously you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. he didn’t love you, his actions spoke way louder than his words.
“i’ll rather be dead than love a disgusting person like you.”
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I've been struggling to finish what's in my drafts so have some barely edited domestic fluff <3
The sound of the door slamming shut pulled you out of the pages that were previously occupying your attention, the heavy footsteps that followed indicating your wife’s presence drawing closer to you as a smile grew on your face. You attempted to act like you were still invested as your eyes scanned the page for where you had previously left off, something explicit involving the protagonist and her soon to be girlfriend. The weight of the couch shifted beneath you as she took up the majority of the comfort the cushions provided, you made adjustments as necessary, invading her personal space and settling back against her in retaliation. She made a better seat anyway.
“Is this the one with the half dragon barbarian? I thought you finished it by now.” Her flesh hand trailed down to rest against your thigh as she pressed her mouth to the skin of your shoulder, dark lips curling into a smile at the pleased hum the gentle affection drew from you.
You took a moment to savor the kisses being trailed along your neck before giving her a breathy response, “Sort of, I wanted to go back a bit to make sure I fully absorbed…everything.” That wasn’t a complete lie but as interesting as the details in this particular chapter were they only made it harder to wade through the time it took for Sevika to return home. How fortunate that she was here now.
She tilted the book into her line of view, brows furrowed as she sifted through the paragraphs, paying you no mind as you attempted to hold back your mischievous grin. “Hm, I don’t know babygirl, I don’t see what there is to absorb here. Is the magically advanced strap-on supposed to be important?” Before you could conjure up an answer the book was snatched from your grasp and thrown elsewhere, not that you really minded. Unless she damaged the spine, then maybe you’d have something to complain about.
Shifting around in her lap to face her you grabbed at her chin, “I never thought you’d resort to throwing things, how truly menacing of you.” The scowl from your babying did nothing to stop you from toying with her cheeks and you could only giggle at her signature “scary” face, something that would send anyone else in Zaun running. For you it didn’t draw anything but adoration and love for the softie behind it. That and occasional horniness.
“Can I at least have a smoke if you’re going to be a pain in the ass?” She grumbled, baring her teeth like an irritated cat when you switched to peppering the nose you loved so much with kisses.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Fuck.You.”
There was a pang of silence and then- “Honey, that’s two words.” You knew you were in for it now but hey, getting pinned to the couch wasn’t really that much of a punishment.
She had your arms above your head in a flash, the weight of her body nearly close enough to crush you while she waited for your laughter to subside. “If I murder you one day I’m blaming it on how insufferable you are, you and your overly descriptive porn books.” Her grip loosened at the unattractive snort that drew out of you, causing her further annoyance as she had to sit through another small fit of laughter. She did at least indulge you by letting your hands wander when you came to.
One of which moved up to brush the messy strands of hair away from her face, your smile softening as you watched her lean into the touch. “You love me.”
She rolled her eyes at you in response but made no effort to hide the corner of her mouth turning upward, “Unfortunately.”
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Random rant with no clear topic (I'm bored). Also, I won't bother to separate paragraphs. Inclides delving into some of my mental health stuff.
Anyone else ever just be awake really late, don't want to go asleep even though they should, and then debate over it for some time? Personally, I have the problem of not being able to fall asleep without melatonin, but at the time of posting this, it's 1am, I haven't brushed my teeth, I haven't taken a shower, I haven't taken my iron supplements, allergy meds nor melatonin. Because I don't live alone and I technically have a bedtime (midnight), I can't go do these things rn without either waking someone up or getting caught past the time I'm supposed to be asleep. I have to leave home by 9:20am (ik, i love my schedule) so I won't be late, and the logical answer would be to go take a nap once I get home a few hours later. But the problem is that I do twitch streams and have a planned stream only a couple hours after I get home, and unlike before, when I was constantly missing my streams due to passing out in bed, I don't want to cancel my streams over things like falling asleep. I was so close to fixing my sleep schedule, but here I am again after just a couple of weeks. I'm not very active on Tumblr and never have been, but I'll probably just show up to rant here like I'm doing right now. I'm literally just typing everything that comes to mind because I'm actually afraid of my own thoughts, which is why I've been going to see the only professional I currently can see (a psychologist) and slowly try to sort stuff out. It was barely half a year ago that I kind of had my two closest friends on speed dial (more like instant discord msg) because I was terrified I'd actually harm myself or somth. I've gotten better, but the jokes still show up in conversations once in a while, and thoughts still come along. I usually don't rant like this, but it sort of is helping keep my thoughts under control, but either way, I really should get to bed, even if it's without putting on my retainer, brushing my teeth, taking my supplements and meds, without showering... without anything I should be doing.
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I’ll Always Take Care of You
wc 994 destiel, established relationship, fluff
Cas and Dean are in bed. They’ve brushed their teeth and put pajamas on. Cas is crocheting a scarf for Jack so they can match with the one Cas made last year. Dean is reading a fantasy adventure novel that Claire recommended.
Or he’s trying to read. He keeps rubbing at his eyes and whining. The whining itself doesn’t really bother Cas, but Dean’s discomfort does.
“Dean, did you take your allergy pill this morning?”
Dean scrubs his hand over his face before letting his head hit the headboard with a thump.
“Yes, but my eyes still itch like crazy.” Dean glances over and Cas pauses his work to squeeze his arm in support.
Dean refocuses on his book and lasts another two minutes before rubbing at his eyes again. Cas finishes the row he had started on the scarf, marks his place with a stitch marker, and sets his work in the basket by his nightstand. He quietly gets up and glances at Dean who is trying his best to continue reading with puffy, irritated eyes.
Dean’s seasonal allergies have worsened this year, so a week ago Cas had done some research and ordered a “Moist Heat Eye Compress” that was supposed to help hydrate dry eyes in a more natural way. Dean hates using eye drops so Cas thought this might be a good supplement. Not that he’s mentioned the compress to Dean yet.
After reading the instructions on the tag, Cas put the compress in the microwave for 25 seconds. The directions said not to exceed 30 seconds, as the compress would be too hot but Cas figured it would cool down while he convinced Dean to try it. Turning the kitchen light off, he pads back to the bedroom with the compress. As he enters the room, Dean is once again rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand and looking miserable.
Stopping at Dean’s side of the bed, Cas gently pulls the book from his other hand.
“Hey, I was reading that!” Dean grumbles, irritation flickering across his face. Cas just starts walking over to his own side of the bed. He picks up an old grocery list from his nightstand to mark Dean’s place in the book before situating himself next to Dean, propped up against the headboard.
“Come here,” Cas says, pulling Dean down until his head was resting on Cas’s lap.
“I know your eyes have been bothering you more lately so I thought we could try this moist heat eye compress treatment.” Dean scoffs as Cas holds up the mask. “You wear this warm compress over your eyes for 10 minutes and it helps rehydrate your eyes. Then they’ll itch less.”
Dean scowls up at Cas, his face flushing. “Babe, you know I don’t like not being able to see…”
Cas’s chest tightens at Dean’s suddenly small voice. He trails his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I know. But I’ll be right here. I’ll even read your book to you. Please just try it once. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop immediately.” He knew he was pressing his luck, but thankfully Dean’s face relaxed.
“You’ll stay the whole time?”
Cas nods. He knows the dark reasons behind Dean’s hesitation. Cas would also struggle with not being able to see. And he’d read that after the treatment the moisture produced from the compress could cause blurry vision for several minutes. He’d cross that bridge when they got to it.
Dean sighs, “Alright, sunshine, give me the compress.” Cas hands it over and Dean slips it over his head. “Feels weird.” He pauses. “Not bad weird, though.”
Once Dean was comfortable, Cas began reading and running his fingers through Dean’s hair. He paused a few paragraphs in to check on Dean.
“Sweetheart?”
“Hmm?”
“How does the compress feel? Are you alright?”
“...feels good,” Dean murmurs, “I’m good.”
By the end of the chapter, just as the ten minutes are up, Dean’s breaths are deep and even and the arm slung over Cas’s waist has relaxed. Cas carefully places the book on his nightstand, turns the light off, and eases himself down to lay next to Dean. He’s a little worried about Dean waking up in a panic if the compress is left on, so he gently removes it. As he does, Dean shifts and buries his nose in Cas’s neck.
“Sleep well, Dean,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before drifting off himself.
. . . .
Cas wakes to sun filtering through the curtains, which isn’t unusual, and a heavy weight draped over his right side. That was the unusual part. Turning his head to check the time, Cas’s eyes widen in surprise. Dean rarely sleeps in this late. Happy that Dean is resting well and not wanting to disturb him, Cas just lays there. He listens to the soft breaths beside him, hears the birds singing outside.
Cas is nearly back to sleep himself when Dean’s breathing sharpens and he rolls off of Cas. He checks the time and rolls back over to press a soft kiss to Cas’s lips.
“Thank you,” Dean says quietly, blushing.
Cas pulls back a little to look Dean in the eye. “For what?” They’ve been working on saying exactly what they mean.
Dean blushes a deeper shade. “For the compress thing, for not making fun of my hang ups,” Dean’s eyes close briefly and then they’re looking right into Cas’s soul. “For staying. For taking care of me.”
Cas brings his hand up to Dean’s face. “I’ll always stay,” a kiss to one cheek, “I’ll always take care of you,” a kiss to the other, “I love you, Dean,” a kiss to his lips.
Dean returns the kiss before pulling away and bringing his own hand up to Cas’s cheek. “I love you too.” He kisses Cas again. “But I ain’t callin’ that thing a moist heat compress or whatever. That’s a weird ass name.”
Cas laughs, “Of course, Dean.”
#liv wrote a thing#destiel fic#destiel#deancas fic#ok i'm going to run away now#hope you guys like it#this is the most words i've written in 5 years that wasn't for a lesson plan
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He Looks Up Grinning Like a Devil
Just a short, sweet, **light smut** and domestic fluff Logan one-shot. It's been a long. time. since I've posted a one-shot. Needless to say, I haven't been able to get this scene out of my head (also side note: in this universe, Juliet married a nice man after William fucked off forever and she is happy like she DESERVES). So, hope you enjoy! Thoughts and feelings always appreciated <3
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He told you last night that it’d be a long day, but you didn’t anticipate it to be nearing 11pm and for Logan to still be gone. There had been days like this before, but you never looked forward to having to wake up as well as fall asleep without his warmth by your side. Logan took awhile to finally settle down, but once he’d asked you to live with him, it was like a switch flipped on him and he became the one to cling to you. Two years later and it still made you smile when he pulled you into his lap once he got back from the office and demanded to hear all about your day while he looked at you like you’re the one who put the stars in the sky.
You finally decided to say fuck it and got ready for bed. Logan said it could be awhile, so maybe it was time to accept reality and prepare to fall asleep without him. Face washed, teeth brushed, and naked as the day you were born, you crawled under the covers before picking up where you left off in the book you were reading.
Right in the middle of a particularly exciting paragraph, a shadow lingered in your peripheral vision, making you jump out of your skin and clutch your chest. Logan leaned in the doorframe, laughing to himself at your brief panic.
“Asshole,” you sighed out with a smile.
Logan was still chuckling as he crawled next to you on top of the covers. “Missed you, gorgeous,” he hummed, pulling your lips up to meet his, a strong hand cradling the back of your head.
“Missed you too,” you mumbled into his kiss, unable to fight off a grin. “I didn’t think you’d be home so late.”
“I wasn’t planning on it either, but you know once my dad starts going, he doesn’t shut the fuck up,” he sighed.
Clearly not wanting to elaborate, Logan pulled back to look you over, really taking you in for the first time. A playful look danced in his eyes as he hooked his index finger over the edge of the comforter where it covered your chest.
“You naked under there?” Logan pulled back the duvet just enough to investigate for himself. You simply nodded, eyes fixed on his face.
Without another word, Logan slid under the covers and pulled your warm, naked body flush to his. Your stomach did somersaults when his dark gaze met yours with that ravenous look he got when all he wanted was to have you. He ran his fingertips lightly along your bare spine, making you shiver slightly in his arms. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered before kissing you deeply.
Logan still managed to take your breath away every time he kissed you. Even after years of partnership, you felt like a teen finally getting to kiss her crush. Every move of his lips was reverent, emphatically expressing how there was nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing. Despite having a nearly 16 hour day, Logan still smelled so uniquely him- that perfect blend of clean laundry and amber you found so intoxicating. It was a scent you’d be able to place anywhere and one you loved to have linger.
As your make out session picked up even more steam, Logan let his hand wander over your chest. His fingers were light over the curve of your breast, not in any rush to a particular destination, simply reveling in your smooth skin and holding you close. The little flicker of anticipation in your stomach was quickly burning brighter and you found yourself arching your body further into him. Logan just smirked against your lips as he realized what you were doing. His touch moved down your stomach, petting slow circles into your skin as he continued to enjoy every minute that he drew out your torture. Logan always did have it in him to be a little tease.
“May I?” he asked, voice low and laced with lust. His hand rested just below your belly button, one of his long fingers stroking gently down, signaling where he hoped to be.
“Please,” you breathed out, sounding much more desperate than you’d planned on.
Without hesitation, Logan ran his index and middle fingers between your folds. Your legs fell further open on their own accord, an involuntary reaction to his touch. When he pressed the pads of his fingers firmly onto the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, you let out a long moan that simply couldn’t stay behind your lips.
“Mmm, already so wet for me,” Logan mused, his kisses moving down to your neck. The short hairs of his beard tickled as his teeth scraped the sensitive skin under your jaw. “The most perfect girl in the world.”
Your breathing became more labored as he continued to swirl his fingers along your clit, knowing exactly the amount of pressure you needed from him. He let his thumb take over and smoothly buried his digits inside your heat, making you gasp and groan. Logan loved all the little sounds he could draw out from you using only his fingers. They went straight to his head and only spurred him on further.
With just a little twist, just the tiniest adjustment, Logan’s fingers hit that sweet spot inside you dead on. Your eyes snapped shut as you writhed on his hand, trying anything you could to keep the contact. Logan lapped over the pulse point on your neck, humming in approval at your reaction to him. You distantly felt him pull away from your throat, but your eyes were still screwed shut as you wantonly ground down on his fingers. As you moved, something tugged in the back of your brain that told you to open your eyes, that you needed to see Logan.
You slowly opened your eyes and Logan’s gaze was hot on you immediately. He held your stare, a small lock of dark normally pushed back hair falling over his eye. He arched an eyebrow and bit down on his lip. There were still times you looked at Logan and couldn’t believe this man- this handsome, silly, impulsive, sexy man- was yours. This was one of those times. The look he gave you made your stomach completely bottom out.
“Oh fuck,” you whined, feeling yourself on the edge of peaking. He knew it as well as you did. The short breaths, restless hips, and string of curse words all signaled to Logan that your release was just around the corner.
“That’s my girl,” Logan smiled, still looking in your eyes. He adjusted to a spot where he could take your earlobe between his teeth and tug. “You gonna be a good girl and come for me?”
All you could manage was a whimper and nod. He ran his thumb over your clit once, twice before you were clutching his bicep, nails digging in hard as you tightened around his fingers, finding your release and panting against Logan’s skin. As your breathing evened out, Logan gently pulled his fingers from you, cradling you close and placing a soft kiss on your lips.
“Thinking about making you come was the only thing keeping me going today,” Logan said, kissing your forehead.
“Well, you certainly delivered,” you laughed. You rolled onto your side and tugged at his belt. “My turn.”
But Logan held your wrist still, shaking his head. “I just wanted to do that for you.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “There’s plenty of time to repay me,” Logan said with a devilish smirk. You both laughed a little before he kissed you one more time. “Come on, keep me company while I grab a drink.” He stood from the bed and held out his hand, which you happily took. On your way out, you grabbed your robe from the back of your vanity chair to throw on, but Logan caught the motion from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned around and snatched the cloth from your hand, throwing it blindly back into the bedroom. “Please. Like I’m gonna let you cover up,” he tutted, rolling his eyes.
“So, what? I’m supposed to walk around here naked while you’re fully dressed? Just for your entertainment?” you teased, leaning over the island in your kitchen.
“Yes,” he smiled, swatting your ass as he passed by on his way to the fridge.
“You’re so lucky I like you.”
“Oh, don’t I know it, princess.” Logan grabbed a rocks glass and some ice before walking over to the other end of the room where he kept his preferred alcohol. “Jules sent me a picture this afternoon of the girls at their soccer game,” he said offhand. He was trying to sound casual, but you knew better. Though he never particularly liked children and certainly was never going to have any of his own, the minute his first niece came into this world, Logan turned into a doting uncle, always eager to show off the girls and brag about everything they were involved in.
“Did they win?” you asked with a massive smile.
“Obviously,” he laughed, taking a sip of his drink as he walked back over to you. Logan pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up his conversation with Juliet. And there they were- semi-toothless grinning on a field, holding a little gold trophy with a soccer player on the top.
“Oh god, they look so grown up,” you smiled.
“Tell me about it,” he sighed. “I think we should bring them something this weekend for winning their season. I don’t know, like a new playhouse or something.”
“Juliet is going to kill you,” you laughed. “Uncle Logan is going to spoil them rotten.”
“What can I say? I love to spoil my girls,” he winked, running a finger along your jaw. You rolled your eyes fondly, but a yawn found a way to creep out of you. “Wanna get back in bed, princess?”
“Yes, please.” Logan led the way back to your bedroom, almost letting you in before leaning down to kiss you one more time. “I love you,” you whispered to him.
“Love you too,” he smiled back, shutting the door to the outside world and leaving just the two of you to enjoy each other.
#logan delos#logan#ben barnes#westworld#logan westworld#logan delos x reader#logan x reader#logan delos smut#logan delos imagine#logan delos fanfic#westworld fic#ben barnes character fic#masterlist
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it’s time to talk about andrew’s syntax
(finally, I hear you scream. in reality, it is just me screaming)
so I answered this ask a few weeks ago and I've been sitting on talking about my other examples for a while because I am lazy
I also feel the need to say that I don’t think this is that deep, but more so Nora writing Andrew how people would talk in these situations. in my head, she gave Andrew such a distinct tone that I didn't fully realize until I read the physical copies. if you read these scenes out loud to yourself, I hope you can see where im coming from
example one: andrew’s attack on allison
in case you forgot, Aaron had just said “Seth was a one off then” to neil and Allison slapped Aaron which was a big no no. Andrew currently has Allison in a combo of a chokehold/arm grip (??? I don’t know fight moves)
“Andrew, it’s just Allison. Okay? It’s just Allison.”
“It is not ‘just’ anyone when she lays a hand on what’s mine.”
...
“You failed. You should have been faster.”
this is andrew’s near-rage talking. he’s losing control. a part of his brain knows that if he doesn’t keep some semblance of control, he’s going to lose it and seriously hurt Allison. he’d be taken away and couldn’t hold up his promises. in my head, the lack of contractions shows Andrew thinking through the things he’s saying. read andrew’s lines through gritted teeth and it adds to the effect.
“that’s enough, Andrew”
“you don’t get to decide that”
...
“I didn’t promise that”
...
Andrew's mouth gave a violent twitch, a grimace he forcibly repressed, and he finally looked up. The darkness in his stare almost took Neil's breath away.
then, neil steps up and interrupts Andrew’s flow. (this is important later too). this throw’s Andrew off and his rage subsides slightly. he’s distracted by neil. he’s still angry, as the description shares, but he is in control enough to not have to dedicate so much energy to keeping himself in check. neil is able to get through andrew’s rage just enough to distract him. ultimately, it is Aaron who speaks up and gets Andrew to let go
“you asshole. you could have seriously hurt her!”
“you do not have the right to act surprised. That is the second time in as many weeks one of you has forgotten yourself. You should have learned your lesson the first time. You do not get to take offense when you force my hand.”
must remain Scary Andrew even when his rage is eating at the last semblance of control that he has. it doesn’t help that the upperclassmen don’t know when to back down. at least neil has that intuition (wymack too, I believe)
Don't," Andrew said, with a calm Neil didn't believe for a second. Andrew tapped his finger to his lips twice, warning Matt to silence, and pointed at him. "A privileged child like you has never seen the real world. Don't speak of it like you understand.
this is actually the paragraph that got me to go back and look at andrew’s dialogue in the first place. you’d think he’d still be speaking in his contraction-less sentences, but now he’s mocking Matt. he knows what he’s doing and he doesn’t have any rage left. I suspect his adrenaline is fading fast and now he’s exhausted. you can see that in how easily he agrees to go with wymack
example two: aaron’s promise
incase you forgot: they’re all sitting around while Andrew is confessing to killing tilda and Aaron is being all defensive bc he didn’t realize what he was getting into
“She was nothing and no-one to me," Andrew said. "Why else would I have killed her?"
It took Aaron a minute to find his voice again. He still sounded angry, but there was a muted edge to his, "You wouldn't even look at me. You wouldn't say a word to me unless I said something first. I'm not psychic. How was I supposed to know?"
"Because I made you a promise," Andrew said. "I did not forget it just because you chose not to believe me. I did what I said I would do, and fuck you for expecting anything else.
neil picks up on andrew’s rage here as well. in the past I just brushed past this line but neil says that he saw a glimpse of andrew’s infinite anger at his core. he knows what Andrew is doing. how he’s forcing himself to keep it together and not lose it on Aaron. I personally think Andrew is really hurt to be confronting this truth here which is why it shows up as rage
Aaron’s line and andrew’s rage in response plays into people just not knowing how Andrew works which is a whole other topic
A heartbeat later Andrew's expression went dead. Neil regretted his intervention immediately. No one could let go of that much rage that easily; Andrew had simply buried it where it could hurt only him. It was too late to take it back, so Neil dropped his hand to his lap in defeat
distracting Andrew is a good way to give his brain something else to focus on to dull the extreme rage that is coming too close to the surface. however, as neil notices, it doesnt go away, it just gets re-buried which only does more damage to Andrew. I'll take unhealthy coping mechanisms for 200 pls
that got a little off track but you see how Andrew was near a breaking point in the way he was speaking, neil noticed and stepped in, and then learned a little more about how Andrew treats his emotions
#anyway Andrew talks so viciously sometimes that the only way to convey that is to drop contractions#it's fun to look at#this also doesnt apply to medicated andrew#mine#tfc#andrew minyard#aftg
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Stray Kids Reaction: Going Clubbing with S/o
A/n: not requested officially but one of my mooties was talking to me about it so ! also my last reaction was really angsty so this is just something fun (GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to their amazing creators)
(not thoroughly edited sryyy)
Warnings: mild cussing?, drinking, slightly suggested content
Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @yangomangos @hoes4hoseok (General Tag List is Open!)
Bangchan:
Chan bopped his head along to the loud music as he waited for you to return from the restroom. “Hi, my friend and I saw you from across the way. Are you with someone by chance?” A pretty girl asked, coming up to him. Her painted nails brushed over the skin of his arm.
“Umm...yeah. I am actually.”
This was the one part about going dancing with you that Chan didn’t like. The moment you left the table, a girl, or sometimes a fan would come up to him and try and get him to come home with them. Chan loved his fans more than anything, but when it came to someone trying to come between you and him he wouldn’t stand for it.
“My friend could use a date as well. Is your friend as handsome as you?”
Chan sighed and looked in the direction you had left in. “Actually, I’m here with my girlfriend.” The girl scoffed and motioned her friend over, who sashayed and sat in your seat at the bar.
“A guy as attractive as you can’t just be tied down to one person!” Her friend exclaimed, gently pushing Chan’s shoulder in a flirty way.
“Sorry, but that’s the only way I do it.” He looked up to see you walking towards him. “Hey, baby girl!” He said wrapping an arm around you and kissing your cheek. You kissed him right back, patting his cheek.
“Hi, sorry. Have we met?” The girls eyed you up and down before walking away. The two of you laughed and you leaned down to kiss him again. “So, that’s why we haven’t been out clubbing in a while.” Chan smiled at you, taking a sip from his drink. “You know I always forget why until we go out.”
Chan only looked at you. It was that look that made you feel like you were the only girl in the club. The only girl in the world. “Dance with me?” He watched you nod, teeth dragging across your lip.
Chan and you danced until your feet hurt and you were out of breath from jumping around to the DJ’s tracks. About one in the morning the two of you left the club, your heels in one hand and the other being held by your boyfriend. He goofily swung your hands as you walked down the street.
“That was SO much fun!” You cheered making him laugh. He laughed even harder when you tried to jump around and ended up wincing from the pain in your feet.
“Piggyback?”
Chan was already crouched down in front of you, his arms reaching back. Who were you to refuse? You carefully jumped on Chan’s back and wrapped your legs around his waist, arms holding tight around his shoulders. The two of you giggled as you walked to the subway station. You sat in his lap on the train planning the next time you two would go out.
“We should bring Felix next time!” You said patting his shoulder in excitement.
“Why?”
“So if people bother you, you can pretend to be foreigners! That’s such a good idea!”
“Baby, I think you are a little drunk.”
Minho:
“Name?” The bouncer asked, looking at his clipboard.
Minho’s right arm stayed glued around your waist as he reached for his wallet. Though most of his face was covered by a mask, his eyes twinkled as he showed the man his ID. He immediately let us through, telling us to enjoy our time.
“Your name really does open doors.” You said holding onto your boyfriend. He laughed at your joke and pulled down his mask as you entered the club. The two of you had been looking forward to going out for so long. The boys were between comebacks so now was the opportune time.
“Drinks or dance first?” He asked, surveying the lively venue. Lasers were bounding off the walls and loud EDM music was being played by a DJ. Taking his hand you led him onto the dance floor. He grinned at your choice. “Ah, a woman after my own heart.”
He goofily spun you around, before his hands fell on your hips, pulling your back to his chest. The two of you danced for a good hour. Minho loved to show off in front of you even if it meant drawing attention to himself. When one of his songs came on you would both look at each other and cheer, before bursting out and doing the dance.
He smiled, watching you dance along to his choreography. The two of you had sweat beading on your foreheads by the time you made your way off the dance floor. Minho pulled you in for a heated kiss before you reached the bar. “I’m having so much fun!” He said against your lips.
“Me too!”
Your boyfriend maneuvered you through the crowd, making sure no one bumped up against you. At the bar, he ordered your drinks and bopped along to the music with you. Your conversation was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.
“Oh my gosh! It is you!” A girl shrieked, covering her mouth. “You’re Lee Know from Stray Kids!” He gave her a kind smile and nodded, looking over to you. You were used to this happening. “Can we get a picture?” He nodded and motioned for the girl and her friend to come closer to him.
“Babe, could you take the picture?”
You smiled, taking the girl’s phone and snapping a couple pictures. The girls both gave Minho huge hugs. You loved watching him with his fans. The other leaned over to you while her friend talked to Minho. “You are so lucky!” She said over the music.
After a few minutes the girls returned to their group leaving Minho and you alone. “Back to dancing?” He asked dowing the rest of his drink. You cheered grabbing your glass from off the bar.
The two of you danced until the DJ physically had to ask you to get off the floor because the club was closing. Minho wrapped a tired arm around you as the two of you walked, looking for a taxi. “We should go back next weekend.” He said, looking up at the night sky.
“There’s a new nightclub opening this Thursday, we could go then. I heard they are doing a blacklight rave for the opening!”
“Oh, we are so going to that!”
Changbin:
You and Changbin were still in the very early stages of your relationship. The two of you had passed the honeymoon phase and were now entering the ‘chicken’ part of the relationship. You were ready to get serious with Changbin and so was he. However, in this part of the relationship neither of you wanted to seem like a boring dud so when an activity was suggested (no matter how out of your comfort zone) you both agreed to it, not wanting the other one to think you were the boring one.
The music pumped through the speakers at an earsplitting volume. How did you end up here? That’s right. Felix and Minho wanted to go dancing at this brand new club that had opened down town. It was supposed to be this crazy new clubbing experience and the boys were excited to go try it. Changbin turned to you after they invited both of you.
“Clubbing?” He asked hesitantly. Clubbing wasn’t necessarily your style. You would more likely prefer to be at home with Changbin with a pizza, he seemed up for it. (He was in fact not up for it. He wanted nothing more than to go to a chill movie with you that night.) The two of you shared a hidden strained look, scanning for any sign that the other was wanting to do anything but this.
“Sure!” Both of you said. Felix and Minho cheered high fiving each other. Little did you know, as you both looked away from each other, looks of regret were on both of your faces.
You were awkwardly dancing next to Changbin smiling at his goofy moves. Every now and then he would pull you closer, wanting to dance with you but Felix or Minho would join in and ruin the moment. Changbin was a fantastic dancer and it seemed he could go for ages. (He could not in fact go for ages. He wanted you to think he had good stamina. He was literally gasping every time you looked away.)
“You want to get a drink?” You leaned into him, shouting over the music. He nodded, hand on the small of your back, leading you to the bar. Finally, the two of you made it to the bar, finding an open seat for you to sit down in. Your feet were killing you. “What do you want to drink?” You asked, holding his hand.
“Ummm...I’ll just do a beer.” He shrugged his shoulders, smiling at you. (Lie. He wanted one of those sweet colorful drinks with fruit on the rim and a swirly straw.) You ordered for the two of you and smiled feeling Changbin’s lips press to your cheek. “Are you having fun?” He asked, trying to hide the strain in his smile as you sipped on your drinks.
“Yeah!” You nodded, looking out into the club. Changbin was nodding his head to the music. He looked like he was enjoying himself, but you couldn’t do this anymore. “Actually,” He turned, giving you his full attention. “I’d rather be anywhere else right now.”
His eyes widened and you were surprised when he laughed and started dragging out of the club. “Thank goodness! Let’s get out of here. I want cheap pizza.”
You grinned holding tight onto his hand. “Yes! Cheap pizza sounds awesome!”
Hyunjin:
Half the fun of going clubbing with Hyunjin was waiting in the line outside. It was usually cold, so his arms were wrapped tight around you as you patiently and slowly moved forward in the queue. Hyunjin always made the most boring things in life fun. In fact, you loved waiting in lines with him.
“But, yeah, she totally stole the first eight paragraphs of my thesis.” You said, shivering in Hyunjin’s arms.
“That bitch.” You smiled up at his dramatic reaction. The two of you shuffled forward almost at the front of the line. You noticed a few people across the street staring at you, some with phones in their hands.
“Fan alert,” You whispered, causing Hyunjin to look up and around him. Your relationship wasn’t a secret. The boys had been off the dating ban for awhile. No one was surprised Hyunjin was the first to get a girlfriend. He waved over to the fans who screamed a little bit, making the two of you laugh.
“How much you wanna bet that we have photos on twitter within the next hour?” He said wiggling his eyes brows. You hummed, cupping his cheeks.
“I think they’ll be up in the next ten minutes.”
Hyunjin scoffed, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “You’re on. Loser buys drinks?” After agreeing to the bet you watched the fans who were still across the street. You turned his head, a cheeky smile on your face. Hyunjin smiled when your lips pressed against his, girls squealing across the street, Thankfully your heels made the distance to his lips shorter. He pulled away, a smirk on the corner of his mouth. “You always cheat.”
“No, I always win.”
By the time you got into the club, you were correct. The pictures of you and Hyunjin were already trending on twitter. He paid for your drink and the two of you spent the next twenty minutes taking pictures for SNS. “I’m not going to take a picture after I’m all sweaty!” Hyunjin whined as he posed for you near an LED decoration. “Also, you look really hot holding that martini glass.” He said making you blush.
The two of you finished your drinks before heading out onto the dance floor. Hyunjin always liked dancing towards the middle, he liked being in the crowd. It was a change of pace for him since he was usually on stage. Your hands draped around his neck playing with his blonde hair, as you danced, bodies pressed together.
Going dancing with Hyunjin was one of your favorite things. There was never a bad part of the night and you almost always ended up continuing the night back at your shared apartment. Hyunjin smiled, feeling you grind up against him.
“You really want to do that here?” He asked, nipping at your ear.
After a few hours of mutual teasing, the two of you would climb into a cab, a little tipsy, and go back to your apartment. You would giggle at his jokes, legs draped over his lap as you two drove through the lit up city.
Jisung:
Sweat dripped down the back of your neck. You had been dancing with some of the boys for a little over an hour. The only way to convince Jisung to go clubbing with you was if all the boys came along. You were surrounded by the dance line of Stray Kids as well as Jeongin and Changbin. Your boyfriend had decided he wanted to stay at the bar, with Seungmin and Chan.
You looked over to see him smiling at you as you and Felix danced in all sorts of weird ways. He twirled you around making you laugh. “Lix, I’m going to go get a drink!” You shouted over the thumping music. Felix gave you a thumbs up before dancing with Changbin and Innie. As you walked away the three of them started up a kickline.
You walked up the bar laughing. Seeing you coming, Jisung wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Hi, handsome!” You said kissing his cheek. Seungmin rolled his eyes and Chan smiled at the two of you. Jisung watched as you leaned on the bar, flagging down a bartender. “Can I get a manhattan?” The man nodded and told you the total for the drink.
“I’ve got it,” Jisung said, pulling out his card before you could reach for yours. The bartender looked to you, making sure it was okay to let Jisung pay for your drink. You nodded and wrapped your arms around Jisung’s neck.
“You didn’t have to pay for my drink.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to.”
Jisung wasn’t normally the club type. He was your little introvert. But, he was wrapped around your fingers so twice a year he would go out clubbing with you as long as the other boys came along. You sat and talked with the boys while sipping on your drink. Jisung kept his hand around your middle as the colorful lights bounced off your faces.
Setting the empty glass on the bartop you leaned in pressing your lips close to Jisung’s ear. “Dance with me?” You felt him shiver, a smirk slipping onto your lips.
“Bye, Assholes! I’m dancing!”
Jisung dragged you out onto the dance floor waving goodbye to his friends. Instead of bringing you to the other boys, he pulled you to the center of the room, eyes trained on you as he moved with you to the beat. You turned around, your back pressed up against his chest.
“Why don’t you dance like this with me at home?” He whispered in your ear.
You smirked, reaching behind you and playing with his hair. “Why don’t you come to the club with me more often?” He laughed at your question, hands gripping your hips, rolling against his own.
“Cause I’d rather be at home doing other things with you.”
You smiled, feeling his grip tighten on your hips. “Well, they do have a bathroom here you know?” You could practically feel the heat rushing to Jisung’s cheeks, but he wasted no time in dragging you down the hall towards the bathrooms.
“Shit, thank goodness for lockable doors.” He whispered before pressing a heated kiss to your lips.
Felix:
The colorful lights bounced off any surface they landed on creating a euphoric glow in the room. Felix was still dancing out on the floor. You stood by the bar waiting for drinks. You were more likely to get drinks at the busy bar than Felix was. Finally, the bartender came over and asked for your drink order.
“Ummm...” You tried to think of a drink Felix would like since he didn’t specify. He usually trusted you to order for him if he couldn't order himself. “I’ll do a Tom Collins and a Cosmo.” The bartender nodded and started working on your drinks. You listened to the shake of the tin as you waited and looked around the nightclub.
A guy across the bar with dark hair waved at you with a sly smirk. Being polite you waved back but turned the other way. You heard a loud sigh beside you. Turning you saw a sweaty Felix leaning against the bar.
“Hey, darling!” He tapped on the bar, still catching his breath. “What did you get me?” You smiled and told him the drink just as the bartender set the two glasses in front of you. As you reached for your cosmo, the bartender started to speak.
“Your drinks were paid for already by that guy over there.”
Turning you saw him pointing to the guy from earlier. He waved and sent you a wink. Felix tried his best not to laugh. He inched closer eyeing the man across the bar. “Well, guess having a smoking hot girlfriend does have its perks.” He whispered into your ear, before kissing you.
“How come you get free drinks out of this and I get weird guys hitting on me?”
“Well, you get free drinks too.” He laughed as you shrugged. You sipped on the sweet drink. “You wanna take this to a back booth?” Your boyfriend questioned motioning towards some secluded areas towards the back of the club. It only took a small nod for him to lace his fingers with yours and drag you to the area behind the dance floor.
Felix ordered bottle service for you both, since clubbing was sort of special occasion for you two. He liked going out clubbing, but it was a sort of special treat since he was always so busy. You spent the rest of the night in your private booth, drinking from the rather expensive bottle Felix ordered. You giggled and joked around, loving being in the upbeat atmosphere with Felix.
Before the two of you left the venue, you both took turns taking aesthetic photos at the club. Felix was the king of making your photos look good. After the two of you got your photos and had a quick makeout session on the dance floor the two of you headed back to your shared apartment.
The next day would consist of debating which one of you would get out of bed to A) get the door when your takeout arrived and B) get the coffee and hangover medicine from the bathroom. It would be a quiet day with lots of ‘shhh-ing’ from the hangover headaches.
Seungmin:
Seungmin wasn’t excited about going clubbing, but he knew how much you loved going out. You loved the whole process. Finding the perfect outfit, searching the bottom of your makeup bag for the best waterproof non-transfer eyeliner. Your favorite part was Seungmin letting you style him for the one night. It was fun having your own personal Ken doll/ boyfriend.
You met the rest of the boys at the club. They cheered seeing the two of you walk in together. Since everyone came along you got a private booth and bottle service for the table. Seungmin smiled seeing you enjoy yourself. “You want to go dance?” You asked, setting down your drink. Seungmin shook his head, lifting his arm from your shoulder.
“No, I’ll stay here and watch your drink for you. I think Chan and Felix are out there though.”
He pointed out onto the dance floor to where the aussies were dancing. Well, Felix was dancing...Chan was pulling out some ‘dad’ moves, making Felix cringe. “Thank you, Minnie,” You said kissing his cheek. “I’ll go save Felix from our resident ‘dad’.” He laughed as you got up from the booth.
He watched you dance your way over to the boys a smile on his face.
“How long are you staying out this time?” Jisung asked, sipping on his third drink of the night. Seungmin shrugged.
“Probably until she gets tired or I have to carry her out. Whichever comes first.”
The boys around him laughed. With loving eyes, he looked over and watched you goof around with his friends. Chan spun you around like you were ballroom dancing and Felix did the robot with you.
You looked over at your boyfriend, giving him a bright smile and wave, the backlights making your teeth look whiter than usual. He waved back, sending you a finger heart, eliciting a giggle from your lips.
“Dude, you are so whipped,” Hyunjin said witnessing the exchange. Seungmin glared at him from across the table. It quickly disappeared when he felt your hand on his shoulder.
“Minnie! You sure you don’t want to dance with me?” Your eyes sparkled under the colorful flashing lights. How could he say no to that smile? He looked to the boys who were watching him expectantly, wiggling their eyebrows and making childish gestures.
“Just one dance,” He said, letting you pull him up from the booth and onto the floor. One dance turned into two. Two turned into four. Soon you were the one carrying him home because his feet hurt too much. “You evil person, you made me dance too much!” He whined, arm hanging off your shoulder as you left the club.
“You’re the one who ran back onto the dance floor when they started playing Day6.”
Jeongin:
Jeongin ruffled his hair, pieces sticking to his forehead with sweat. He had been dancing with you for hours. It was your birthday, and you wanted to celebrate by going out to a club.
He had surprised you by renting out the venue and inviting all your friends including the other boys. “Are you having a good time?” He asked, twirling you around with a bright smile.
“Are you kidding?!” You squealed, leaping into his arms. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you did this, Jeongin!” He blushed feeling you press your lips against his. He felt proud, being able to make you this happy.
You had long since abandoned your heels, choosing to throw them with Jeongin’s jacket. He watched your bare feet pad against the concrete floor as you dragged him back onto the dance floor. He loved that out of everyone here at your party, you wanted nothing more than to spend your time with him.
Your friends passed by, giving you birthday wishes and greeting your boyfriend as well. “Don’t you want to spend time with your other friends?’ He asked dancing with you, as the song changed.
You shrugged taking his hands in yours. “Everyone I could possibly want to be with is standing in front of me.” Heat rose to your boyfriend’s cheeks, making you smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck.
After the party had ended, you and the boys tiredly stumbled out of the club, singing random songs. Jeongin’s smile glowed under the street lights. The two of you watched as Chan and Minho tried to pull a drunk Jisung away from climbing a light post. The two of you laughed, Jeongin stepping into the street to hail a cab.
Before he could open the door for you, Jisung pushed passed him with a laugh as Chan worked on shoving him into the vehicle. “Sorry guys! I think we need this one.” You all laughed as Changbin and Minho joined them in the cab, purposefully squishing Jisung in the middle.
The cool night air brushed over your shoulders making you shiver. Noticing, Jeongin took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. “This has been the best birthday. Thank you, Innie!” You leaned up and kissed him, making the remaining boys whoop and holler.
The two of you waited until all the boys had left safely, some more safely and sober than others. He laced his long fingers with yours, before walking down the street with you. In the other hand he carried your heels. “You really are the best boyfriend.”
He shrugged, a shy smile on his face, his eyes trained down on the pavement. “Promise me one thing?” He asked, swinging your hands between the two of you.
“Of course,”
“Don’t make me go clubbing more than once a year. That was exhausting taking care of the rest of the boys.” You burst out in laughter before nodding and kissing his cheek.
Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!
Masterlist
#stray kids imagines#stray kids preferences#stray kids reactions#kpop imagines#stray kids#rubber ducky you're the one#stray kids masterlist#stray kids angst#stray kids scenarios#stray kids fake texts#stray kids apocalypse au#stray kids au imagine#stray kids au imagines#stray kids college au#stray kids incorrect quotes#stray kids social media au#stray kids soulmate au#stray kids oneshots#bangchan imagines#lee know imagines#changbin imagines#hyunjin imagines#han jisung imagines#lee felix imagines#kim seungmin imagines#yang jeongin imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#kpop reactions
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Sunday Snippet
Here it is, the first snippet of my Vikings multi chapter I am working on. The one we talked about @pieces-by-me
The chapter still needs some additional paragraphs and brushing over, but I hope I can already spike some interest, while I have a week of work ahead before I'll be on holiday and finally have some time to write.
So, modern AU and everyone is alive ;o)
I'd love to put everyone who'd like to on a tag list for it.
Not Today
Bright sunlight blinded Hvitserk’s eyes when he climbed up higher and higher into the huge oak, closely followed by his little brother.
“Wait for me,” he heard toddler Ivar cheerfully giggle. “I’ll get you, Hvitserk!”
And Hvitserk turned around, looking into Ivar’s shining eyes, light blue like a frozen lake and yet full of life and warmth. Tiny teeth innocently exposed to the sun, a chubby hand reaching out to his older brother who leaned forward to grip it and lift Ivar up to the next branch. But just as their soft hands touched, Ivar slipped and Hvitserk couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as his little brother fell and fell until he landed in the meadow below with a dull thud.
The sound went straight to Hvitserk’s core, pumping adrenaline through his veins and waking him up with a racing heartbeat, breathing hard, bare chest covered in cold sweat.
“Ivar,” he breathed panicked, still trying to fully escape the dream, having already stumbled out of bed and towards the entrance of his apartment. There in a little clay bowl, made by his half-sister Gyda, were the keys to the next-door apartment, which belonged to his younger brother Ivar.
When Hvitserk arrived in his brother’s pitch-dark bedroom, he was devastated to make out the shadow of Ivar on the floor. That could only mean two things: that his baby brother was deadly drunk…or worse.
Not sure which option he’d have to face, Hvitserk slowly knelt down. He stretched his arm out but hesitated to let his hand touch Ivar yet.
“Hey brother? Ivar!” and when he carefully shook his brother’s shoulder and was not yelled at, he started to wish Ivar was drunk. Selfishly, Hvitserk longed for the less painful explanation, knowing what followed would break both their hearts. Again.
He carefully leaned over Ivar and whispered, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Then he stood up, turned back the covers on the bed and waited for his brother to drag himself onto it. The ongoing silence, so unlike his brother, scared Hvitserk. After his brother got himself up and into bed Hvitserk’s heart felt enormously heavy when he got to bed as well, lining himself up behind his brother, carefully pushing one of his knees between Ivar’s cold, lifeless legs. Just when he lay his arm around Ivar’s waist, offering his other arm as a pillow, the later mumbled, barely audible, “I can’t take it anymore.”
Fuck. What are you supposed to say to that? “It’s all going to be okay”? Because how could it? They both new it would be such a lie.
So instead Hvitserk drew Ivar closer and asked him: “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that. Breathe.”
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To Eternal Bliss, I’m so Glad to Know (ModernAU!Hidan x Reader)
The Rats 1k event prompt: Street racer x Hidan
A/N: hey.. aha.. how y'all doing.. hum so i haven't been doing great, I think that is evident through my inactivity on this blog, but that being said i am in a bit of a better place now. i finally have some time to myself and i intend to put that towards my 900 follower event. Enjoy this wonderful piece of modern racer Hidan that strayed into crazy murder himbo I love car man Hidan.
Title inspired by: this song.
MAJOR TWs: smut, harassment (brief, undescriptive), uhm murter, reckless driving, lots of mentions of and contemplations of death. You are a literal accomplice to murter. Reader is confused. But.. It’s not supposed to be gory and dark, I kinda wanted it to just be stupid and reflect a himbo hidan as much as I could. Last like 6 paragraphs aren’t edited.
-
You shouldn’t be in a criminals car, much less in the middle of a police chase and much much less be falling in love with him.
His silver hair flashes wildly in the occasional flicker of red and blue lights, teeth bared; he was making that face again. That one he had when he first met you, lips curled and canines showing. It looked like he was in pain. It was just because he was actually trying to use his brain, you think. He grips the wheel tightly, the whites of his pale knuckles glowing as he swerves onto one of the busiest city streets you know.
Barely avoiding a collision with a distinct yellow blur you could barely classify as a taxi, he continued to speed through the lanes, horns blaring and merging into the sound of the wailing sirens quickly approaching. Another sharp turn onto a slightly less busy road had your body slamming against the console, leaning close to Hidan. Your eyes stray from the window and onto his face, unable to hear what he is saying, you make out the movement of his lips:
shit,shit,shiiit
The tires screeched as he fumbled around with the controls, sending the car into a full 180 and narrowly avoiding a police car sacrificing its auto body in favour of capturing Jashin. That was real close call, just scratching the side of the passenger door, but you wouldn't know; you were still watching your boyfriends features as he speeds off down another dirty alley.
You were pretty sure that one day you were going to die trapped in Hidans little metal box.. A distant part of you wanted to throw up when you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sure, he was obnoxiously annoying in the most serious of times and incredibly oblivious when you desperately needed him to get a clue. I mean fuck, it felt like despite his adolescent years of elementary and secondary school (which you’re not even sure he attended) his brain only had the capacity to process two things. The first being lewd shit and the second would be the gas pedal... and maybe half a braincell was in there thinking of you, but probably only of you in your panties or something really shallow like that.
You really shouldn’t love him.
Barrelling down the alley he randomly slammed the breaks down, the lack of warning sending you flying forward. Bracing yourself to be slammed into the front of car, but just when you thought you were going to break your nose Hidan reversed, sending your body backwards instead. You yelped and he sent you a stupid little apologetic curl of his lip before twisting his body, hand coming to your chair for support as he sped the car backwards through the trash littered street. You didn't understand why he suddenly changed his mind about the direction until a few seconds later when a black and white cop car swerved down the alley in the direction you were back pedalling from. Hidan must have known they were going to try and cut his route off.
At the sight of the police vehicle your boyfriend impulsively slammed the breaks, rolling his window down and leaning his head out of it, “Ha, you stupid fucks think you could catch Jashin with some lame shit like that? I could smell that from a mile away!” From your boyfriends childish tone you predicted he was going to blow a raspberry, but the sound of speeding tires approaching quickly stopped him. Sirens blaring, the police car sped its way forward.
“Oh fuck.” Hidan sped Jashin backwards again.
You remembered the first time you met Jashin.
It was late that night, you were making your long trek home after a disastrous closing shift. You were tired. So fucking tired. You never would have taken that shortcut if you weren’t truly physically drained. As you made your way briskly through that musky trash infested canal, you were stopped by a man who smelled just as intensely as the alley itself. It was so much so that you had thought that perhaps it was the mans smell that was so potent and not the space itself.
Defining what the source of that smell was wasn’t important though, not when he was coming straight at you with barred, yellow teeth. You didn't know what to do and to be fair, what the fuck were you supposed to do? He was yelling something, you couldn't hear it over the thrashing of your erratic heartbeat. Were you going to die? You were so fucking tired.
Maybe you should run.
You didn’t though. Didn’t have the energy. So you let the man come face to face with your figure, grabbing at the lapels of your coat and screaming. His breath was unbearable and you thought you were going to pass away just from the smell as opposed to actually being murdered. Although you suppose this could probably qualify for a murder, his breath was most definitely a weapon. But despite his shouts being directly at you, his humid breath spraying across your face as his chest constantly heaved, you couldn't understand what he was saying.
“Jashin! Jashin is coming!”
What the fuck was Jashin? Could you still not hear him? He was probably sick. You were tired. So you continued to let him shake your form. Was he going to kill you or just ask for some money?
Thats when a beast of sleek red metal swerved down the alley, trampling over peeled open garbage bags and beer bottles, approaching you with each sound of a crinkled can. It was gunning straight towards the man who was backing you up against the wall, he was frothing and screaming at the sight and the next moment the hood of the car slammed into his form. Despite your close proximity to the man, you were left barely unscathed and a little bit disappointed.
The scene laid frozen for a good thirty seconds: the man unconscious on the floor, your unsteady breathing and the window of the car rolling down. It inched back to reveal a man about your age - which made him just barely a man - with silver slicked back hair, barred teeth and knitted eyebrows.
“Shit.”
You just stared at him, backpack beginning to slide down your shoulders. He stared back at you, waiting to see what your next move was going to be. You didn’t have one.
“...If it makes you feel any better, douchebag deserved it.” The man said a few minutes later, he clearly wasn't expecting the crumpled body on the floor to have tried to seek out help, let alone from a cute girl. He smoothed his hair back.
His crappy attempt to seduce you didn't work and nor did his equally crap words of consolation, you were tired. This whole situation was even more tiring. You just wanted to sleep.
“I won't tell anyone, if you just drive me home.”
He clearly wasn't expecting that, you could tell that from the pained look intensifying on his face and his little choked gasp. A few moments later it released like an elastic band snapping and his features set into a smug smirk. A cute girl who wasn’t gonna snitch on him?
“You’re not going to question the fact that I just hit someone with my car? Is it cause I'm so fucking sex-”
You weren’t listening, walking over the heap of a body and around the car into the passenger seat. The contrasting smell of vanilla and cigarettes clouded your senses as you clicked your seatbelt into place - noticing his lack of one in the process.
You hated that your face was burning up as you spoke. “I live a few blocks away.”
For a while you were sure that this was the first girl Hidan had ever had in his car. It was obvious that he was freaking out, maybe if he didn’t hit people in alleyways and then blamed your silence on the fact that he was so fucking sexy, then maybe he would be able to talk to more.
He tried to blab to you the whole way to your apartment accidentally making wrong turns to try and extend the length of your stay. He told you about that man in the alley, said something about how he totally fucked him over in some black market shit for auto parts. Said his enemy, - he stressed this word very intensely - Shikamaru probably put him up to it. Nobody messes with Jashin goddamit, I fucking hate that guy. It was a shit justification for murder no doubt, there is never a good reason to hit someone with a car, but you supposed your indifference wasn't any better.
You stole a couple glances at him every now and then, when his eyes took a break from darting back and fourth between your thighs, your face and the road. He had a sharp jaw, pretty cheekbones, gelled back hair with small strands escaping every so often - causing him to brush them back when too many tickled his forehead - his lashes were long and his eyes so pretty so in the dim light of the empty city streets. His teeth were straight and sharp canines peeked out whenever he sent you a suggestive smirk.
You also spent an unbelievably long time watching his fingers maneuver the steering wheel, the way his hands flexed with a certain turn. The veins of his forearms travelling underneath his leather jacket pushed up at the elbows, his jeans were all worn out and faded and his shoes looked like they were about to fall apart, it was a big difference in comparison to the well kept state of his handsome car.
When he finally made it to your complex after running out of roads to take wrong turns down, he looked at you like a lost puppy, rolling the passenger window down to call out to you as you opened the lobby doors. “So I’ll meet you out here tomorrow then? Say, around 9?”
You turned to look at him confusedly, inquiring as to why he would be picking you up when you made no reservations to see him again, why would you want to see your accomplice in a murder ever again? But he was already speeding off before you got the chance.
At least you could finally go to sleep.
The next day he was outside your apartment fifteen past nine, blaring his horn as he maneuvered his upper body to hover out the window of his lovely Jashin. You were nestled on your couch, staring at the blue light of the TV screen in your dark apartment desperately trying to avoid the textbook glowering at you from the coffee table.
‘Cute kitten saved from tree’ was sprawled across the bottom of your television in bold letters as a perky blonde read off the little cue cards in her hand. You’d been watching the news all day, waiting for the red breaking news! To slice across the screen and read out the description of a crippled homeless gambler found dead in an alley, but it never came.
It mad you feel a little angry when you realized his death wasn’t going to be announced and you knew there was no way it hadn’t been discovered yet. Then you sat startled at the realization that you didn’t feel anything towards what happened. That the anger you felt in wanting it to be so desperately displayed on the news was because you hoped you would feel something then.
The sound of Hidans car horn threw you out of your thoughts as you jumped like a frightened cat to the window. Peeling back the curtain you were surprised to see that blood stained blotch on the road with a lavender haired boy peeking out, baring his teeth.
You contemplated staying inside, he didn’t know your apartment number, but you knew that he definitely wouldn’t stop blaring the horn if you didn’t. His hand was undeniably laying flat against the centre of he wheel as he continued to sound out, you heard someone yell for him to fucking shut up. Hidan continued as if he didn’t hear. It kind of flattered you.
You wanted to vomit.
You took the stairs.
It was the beginning of winter when you finally let Hidan fuck you. You were in some parking lot lined with pitch black shops on a Sunday night. Everyone closed early going home to their families, except the two of you of course.
It was odd being with him for this long. One outing turned into another and then another, before you knew it he was picking you up every night at nine -sometimes fifteen minutes passed,- blaring his horn excitedly as he peeked out his car.
He told you it was the perfect place to do donuts, didn’t you want to do donuts? You did. It was the beginning of winter. It was icy. His idea was incredibly fucking stupid. But you agreed because maybe you’d skid on the ice and smash into a store, get crushed by the crumbling debris..
There was little snowflakes hitting the windows of Jashin as you two sat parked in the middle of the deserted lot.
“You ready? Oh you’re gonna love this, babe.”
He grinned as your face heated up at the name, you always got all flustered whenever he said anything like that. It made him feel giddy. His long fingers start Jashin up, moving to clutch the wheel as the car thrums to life.
When he makes the first swerve with his car, he turns his head to watch your body all stiff and frightened. It was funny. He laughed as your face twisted into an even more flustered one - if that was possible. God, you were always such a hard ass at the beginning of the night, but when he dropped you off outside your apartment early into the morning he always made sure to leave you with a little smile on your face. Even now, this early into the night he could see the beginnings of one.
He twisted the wheel again and your body flew to the left, smooshing into the console and the surprised laugh that left your mouth had his guts twisting. He wanted to hear it again. Your walls always fell when he did stupid shit like this. You were kinda fucked up now that he thought about it. Always getting all giggly when you should probably be screaming at him to be more careful for fucks sake! But you never did and he loved that about you. Just as fucked as he was.
“Hey babe, babe! This one’ll be good. Watch, watch.” He gripped the wheel again and grinded his sneaker into the gas, the first skid across asphalt was intentional, but when he tried to regain the reigns of his dark red beast it began to thrash out of his control.
Goddamn ice patch.
The car twisted, screeched and burned into the pavement for a good twenty seconds and when he was sure you should be screaming because I mean come on, that was fucking scary, he heard silence.
As the car came to a complete stop and your body was once again flung against the console, he turned to you. He thinks he was gonna ask if you were okay but he couldn’t remember because the next moment you were grabbing tufts of his gelled hair and sucking his face off.
He loved every second of it. The amount of times he’d tried to get his dick wet with you before was astronomical, but you’d always tell him no and he would pout like a dog. But hey, now you’re shoving your tongue down his throat like a dog so he settled on the idea that good things do come to people who wait.
The reason you decided to do it then was blurry. One moment his car was skidding around the parking lot and you were laughing and thinking of the chance of death and the next second it spat onto your tongue and you realized you didn’t want it anymore.
Like that first time you slid into his car, as you kissed him now you tasted contrasting flavours. Mint and cigarettes. For a moment you thought you were going to pull away, but you felt the sudden need to drink all of it. To somehow understand why you felt like you were burning from the inside.
It was his fault really. Hidan made you feel less tired, if that was a good way to put it. You started looking forward to things after you two met and eventually you actually started to feel a bit more deeply for poor crumpled man in the alley. It felt as if you’re body was being thawed out by this silver haired idiot who was groping for the clasp of your bra underneath your shirt.
So you climbed over the console, fumbling with the side of his chair to pull his seat back as you began to strip off your top in haste. You unbuttoned his jeans and slid down to the space between his leg, choking and drooling all over his cock because when you did you felt all these funny emotions bubbling in your body, you felt alive.
He was a loud mouth when you had his dick down your throat, groaning and saying the dumbest, lewdest shit his sex wired brain could think of. You know how many times he’s thought of this? You feel so good, you feel so good. God this is so good, Jashin probably loves it too... We should fuck on the hood of the car next. Long slender fingers guided your head up and down him as he began to twitch thrust his hips upwards, finally spill into your mouth. Douchebag didn’t let your head go and you felt some of his juices dribble down your tongue.
“Swallow it, swallow it while my dicks still in your mouth... Atta girl, you’re so good. So greedy..”
And you swallowed it all, he hoisted you back onto his lap and pushed your skirt up. He was whispering all this perverted stuff in your ear and your mouth fell open against his neck. Words making you flush fiercely and slowly grind your hips against him. You stopped him when he was beginning to shove your panties down your thighs, though.
For the first time you felt small in comparison to him as you met his eyes. He stopped his movement seeming like he was going to say something too, but you cut him off.
“- Hidan... I’ve never done it before.”
He stares at you all wide eyed before laughing and for a second and you think about getting out of his car and walking home because that’s such a douchebag thing to do, but then he surprises you.
“Me too, I was just about to say.. but I mean it can’t be hard right? Well, I am hard,” he laughed and you found yourself huffing a small giggle at his stupid joke, good mood returning as he continued, “I was just gonna go with what I seen in hentais.” That explained his dirty talk.
It was pretty good for your first time though. Ideally not the best place to have sex, you kept hitting your head and he couldn’t quite get his hips thrusting at a good pace with the confined space, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because it was Hidan and you think you just might be in love with him.
That’s why you don’t say anything when a few weeks later you see “Shikamaru Nara, infamous street racer found dead in a back alley crash.” flashing across your tv screen.
You don’t comment, just give a little understanding hum when Hidan calls you and tells you he can’t pick you up tonight babe, or for a few nights, Jashin needs some repairs..
It’s why now, as he speeds through the streets recklessly with your bags in the trunk and the sound of sirens ringing in your ears that you feel tears prick your eyes. You wish you could have told him to be more careful, that he shouldn’t have done what he did without planning it. Something, anything.. it’s too late now. But he’s not to blame.
You think it’s your fault, really.
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For the Writing Asks
If it be your pleasure to cross the sleeping green between
💎 ⛰️ ⭐
If it be your pleasure to cross the sleeping green between
💎- What was your favorite part?
I think my favorite part - in a fic of favorite parts - was the bit with Scott and Steve in Steve's shower. I felt it was sexy and sweet all at the same time. Scott is always so On. So In Control and In Charge that he never gets to just let go of that side of himself and be taken care of. Steve takes that on without some gross dominating macho attitude. He lets Scott just be vulnerable without thinking of it and without making Scott think about how he's letting someone past the walls he's built around himself. It becomes very organic.
⛰️- What was the hardest part?
Two parts. The first hardest part was the food fight in the kitchen. It was like choreographing a dance or a battle/fight scene. I had to make sure I knew what was where at all times and what the guys were doing/holding/thinking/throwing on each other.
The second hardest part was gracefully maneuvering Steve going from rimming Scott to being ready to kiss him again because I constantly had Becky's voice (from Clerks II - I can't escape that Kevin Smith crap no matter how hard I try) going, "You never go ass to mouth!" So trying to figure out the most graceful way for Steve to deal with that before he kissed Scott again, without having him have to run back to the bathroom to brush his teeth, was kind of agonizing. Because I'm sorry. I'm not going to write gross, unhygienic, and unrealistic sex scenes. I read one of those recently, and despite the fic itself being gorgeous overall, when I read that sex scene the way that author wrote it - no doubt they're just not very well-versed in sex even in a writing standpoint - I just noped the hell out of it. I don't want people to feel like they have to nope out of my sex scenes for being wrong and gross.
⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?
I'm proud of quite a few of them, but I'll provide two:
1
“Uh...JARVIS?” Steve inquired.
“Yes, Captain Rogers. I thought it best to have a cleaning crew come up to take care of the mess so that you and Mr. Summers could focus on your team leadership bonding exercises. This way, when you are both ready to resume the pie-making portion of your...bonding exercises, you would not have to be delayed by cleaning up. Also your clothes are already in the wash, and I do believe that Mr. Summers could borrow some of your clothing until his are clean. You know. When you are finished with your...bonding...exercises.”
Steve cupped his hand to the back of his neck and offered a half-wave when he was noticed by the cleaning crew. He smiled and stammered a nervous thank you before he backed into his bedroom and closed the door.
Then locked it.
“You know, JARVIS, you’re beginning to sound a lot more like your father there,” Steve remarked as he turned around. His eyes honed in on Scott lying on his bed. Naked. The towel hung over the back of the chair at his drawing desk.
“Thank you, sir. I take great pride in that compliment,” the AI remarked. “And now I suppose you would like to be alone with Mr. Summers?”
Licking his lips, unable to look anywhere other than Scott lying on his side on the bed, Steve nodded first, spoke second.
“Very much alone with Mr. Summers, JARVIS, thank you.”
“Then if there is nothing else you require...”
“Nope. That’ll be all,” Steve remarked as he started to walk toward the bed, his fingers beginning to tug at his towel.
“Yes sir. Very good. Oh and in light of your new circumstances, I have now taken the liberty of adding a new supply of lubricant to your accumulated shopping list. I have even changed your usual brand to the one Mr. Stark prefers.”
Steve’s movements paused, and he blushed from ear to ear while Scott covered his mouth and laughed behind it.
“JARVIS, OH MY GOD! Please!” he exclaimed, his chest shaking with laughter even though he felt so embarrassed to have this conversation with Tony’s AI-Son in front of who he was hoping would become his boyfriend.
“Very good, Captain. I will leave you to it.” There was a pause and Steve assumed that they were finally alone, save the people in his kitchen. “Oh, though I should tell you that this delivery can be expected in a week, given the holiday, but if you do not have enough to last you until then...”
By this point, Scott had rolled onto his stomach on the bed, grabbed one of Steve’s pillows, and buried his face in it to muffle great roaring guffaws. His whole body shook, and Steve couldn’t look away from the lines and muscles in his back.
“I’ll manage, JARVIS. Thank you. Really. I’ll...we’ll be fine. Thank you. Now...I’m sure you can...”
“I will gracefully bow out, Captain Rogers. Good luck with your endeavors with Mr. Summers.”
And with that, they were blissfully without further comments.
2
“Fine. I’ll say it. Eventually, we went from hero and sidekick to...boyfriends and Captain America never let me be bullied again,” Scott finished and grumbled as he started to pull back from Steve so he could curl up in a ball of embarrassment.
For a split second, Steve felt his heart twist and break at the confession, not of a gorgeous adult man lying in his best after fantastic sex, but of the near-teenager who crushed on him and just wanted him to save him from bullies and then love him like he hadn’t been. Scott gave him so much to chew on in regards to the image they’d made of him even while he remained in ice instead of here to create his own reputation. He wouldn’t have let those little shits bully Scott, but it would’ve taken a longer time before Steve outed himself as bisexual, so that tender prepubescent boyfriend fantasy would’ve taken longer to manifest. That said, the moment he felt Scott trying to cringe away, Steve held him even tighter and focused on the here and now. He pressed his lips into Scott’s bronze hair, loving the scent of his own shampoo steeped into those locks, and then he cupped his lover’s chin and lifted his face until he could kiss the insecurity right away from those courageous lips until they parted and responded to him with a needful hum.
Scott pulled back only when he needed to catch his breath. His head and heart battled each other, his desires fighting for the right to see the light of day instead of his pessimistic logic always ruling instead. He looked at Steve’s face and brought one hand up to touch his cheek, feeling the chiseled jaw he’d seen clench so many times preceding a fight.
“You aren’t laughing or calling me pathetic,” he remarked with some surprise and found his own cheek held gently in Steve’s palm.
“Because you’re not pathetic, and what you said wasn’t funny. It was heartfelt and sincere, and I wish I could’ve been there for that kid who’s turned out to be one of my feistiest friends and fiercest sometimes rival and...” Steve sighed and kissed Scott again. Brief and firm and steeling himself for what was left to say. “Listen. I bet I could run into hundreds of kids who had similar fantasies to yours, sweetheart, and obviously, without talking to Stephen Strange or...probably Loki about it and then being warned heavily against it by Wong, I can’t go back in time to rescue you from those little assholes who deserved to be, at the very least, shaken until some sense formed in their heads. I can’t do that, but...I can have your back now. When you want it...when you need me, I can do that, and here’s the thing, Scott. You’re no one’s sidekick. You shouldn’t ever want to be.” He watched Scott’s features for any sign of discomfort or that he was about to run. “And...I mean, if where we’ve landed today isn’t an indication of my interest in you then maybe you’ll let me take you out on a date sometime. Boyfriends sounds like a pretty good deal to me. If it still does to you...after all this time.”
Scott was way too good with long, heavy silences. He liked to put his thoughts together so that he didn’t react just with his emotions. He was bad at emotions. Leaders who took the whole safety of their people on their shoulders couldn’t afford emotions; or so he’d been disciplined to believe. This time, though, he didn’t want to hover over any number of answers he could give because there was only one.
“Sounds like a fantastic deal to me, Steve. I...” Scott laughed and turned his face to kiss Steve’s palm. His all over the place feelings leaked into his voice, the way it hitched, the way he attempted to not sound like a teenager with a crush. “...it’s been a long time since I went on a date. Not sure I even remember how dates work. I think the whole dating routine has changed, too, so I’m not even sure what the protocols are anymore.”
Thanks for the asks!
Writing Asks
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For A Greater Good 16/18
Not my gif. Before It’s Too Late
Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.
Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc
Masterlist
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]
[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]
[Part 15]
--
Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds
Classes were over, grades had been hung in the corridor, and Durmstrang celebrated that another year was over.
Kate was forcing a comb through her brown waves when she heard laughter and hasty footsteps outside her dorm. Returning her attention to her hair, she pressed more insistently on the knot that was refusing to untangle and contemplated the day ahead of her; the Annual Exposition of Dark Arts had arrived and with it, the crushing fear of not leaving Durmstrang anytime soon.
She had told Dumbledore and Rhode she was no auror; she didn’t have training in catching criminals, if that’s what one of these people were.
“Well, it’s not like someone will raise their hand and say ‘it’s me, Kate, take me to Azkaban.’” She murmured to her reflection in the rusty mirror next to the door.
Why? Why had Dumbledore put her there? What was she supposed to do? Almost six months had passed; she had heard from Dumbledore only once, and Rhode was so busy with the school’s events that had practically forgotten why she was there.
But Kate still remembered. She still remembered what happened to Flavia Hodges.
Having abused her locks enough, she attempted to shape them into curls, twirling some hairs around her finger. When she finished, she traced her dragon necklace before securing it under her robes.
Who would be willing to join a Dark Wizard? And why? For a greater good, as Corentin had said? Or maybe for more personal reasons? No one was exempt from guilt, no one was good or bad; Cassandra Steiner was rude and disagreeable, but she was a mediwizard and cared for others; Flavia Hodges was almost murdered and Kent Jorgensen would have protected the man he thought was guilty, but he wasn’t ill-intended and seemed to be a clever man; Leron Angelov was sick and violent with his son, but he had enough problems to be a criminal; Libor Marek was intolerant and prejudiced, adequate characteristics for a Death Eater, but that didn’t make him one; and the only thing that Kate knew about Mer Yankelevich was that she was a liar.
She let out a heavy sigh and made her way to the desk. After grabbing her cloak from her chair and fastening it around her neck, she grabbed the several items she intended to carry with her at all times: her wand, her diary, the list and the trick wand that the Weasley twins had sent her.
The night before, tidying up her belongings, she had found the box that Fred and George had sent her and thought it could be a good farewell gift to Vivien, in case she wanted to give a lesson to Jon Hopkins.
She felt uncomfortable with everything she was carrying on her. The list and her notebook were inside her improvised pockets, and both wands were safely tucked in each sleeve. Impractical for the occasion, but with everyone distracted with the AEDA, it was very easy for someone to slip out of there unseen, and she had no intention of anyone walking into her room and finding those items. After fastening her ankle boots, she headed outside.
Rhode had not been exaggerating when she described the AEDA as the biggest event of the year; the corridors were ostentatiously decorated with garlands and lights; countless carriages arrived on the castle grounds one after another and the doors to the dining hall were open all day, held up by pillars from which people could grab pamphlets describing the event’s activities.
Tables had been rearranged to form the various displays, and the students were dressed in their finest robes to honour the occasion.
The hustle and bustle of the day made the place unrecognisable, characterised by its usual gloom and darkness.
She advanced through the hall, pausing from time to time to watch project demonstrations and congratulate those taking part in the competition. Her eyes fell on a familiar face next to her; Leron Angelov sat behind a table where a seventh-grade girl explained her work to three wizards who, judging by their golden robes, were the judges.
“The potion lets you transfigure into whatever animal or object at will, only for a few minutes…” she exposed. Kate approached Angelov and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t do that.” Leron stared at her and stopped scratching his arms.
After wandering around for a while, she finally reached her own table, greeted her students and settled wizards and witches filed in and out of the room, delighting in the students’ magnificent works.
She wished with all her might that she could share their enthusiasm.
She gave several forced smiles, for Rhode’s sake, as the organiser of the event she wanted everything to go smoothly, but deep inside she was overwhelmed by a deep worry that she didn’t know how much longer she could bear.
“It’s really ugly.” She overheard one of her students, Greta, referring to her umbrella flower. Several of her children were standing behind a table, presenting their work to the audience.
A single umbrella flower, magically modified to remain a medium size, floated above the table; its vibrant red colour stood out among the sober tones of the place. The top of the plant, usually hollow to do justice to its name, now was decorated with thirty-seven fangs all around the base, giving it the appearance of a weird-looking lamp.
“You should be proud,” she reminded them, “You’ve managed to do something wonderful.”
“It’s still horrendous.” Jon Hopkins commented, wrinkling his nose.
“We’ve done next to nothing...” lamented Micael. Kate raised her eyebrows.
“What do you mean, you haven’t? We needed every single one of your plants, remember they didn’t all germinate, and only one of them got these results. And these posters explaining the whole process? They are priceless...”
They were still not convinced, so she kept insisting “In a few years, someone will want to do the same as you and they will be grateful to have your work as a reference”.
A man and a woman approached their table and after reading a few paragraphs of their report, left without comment. Everyone visibly deflated.
“By the way, where is Vivien? I have something for her...” asked Kate. Micael shrugged.
She looked around, but it was impossible to find anyone among the crowd. She saw a few familiar faces; like Jorgensen chatting animatedly with some seventh year students or Sheyi Mawut, who was making his way through the wizards towards her. There was no sign of any other teacher.
“Well, well! This is the first time in a long time I’ve seen first-year students exhibiting. What have we got here?” Mawut looked at Kate with a smile and she touched two fingers to Micael’s elbow. The boy looked at her and Kate nodded.
“We have created the first umbrella flower with teeth, Professor! It’s one of a kind because the species itself is unique. It floats like an umbrella flower and has teeth like a fanged geranium...”
Kate watched proudly as Micael’s other classmates came up to support him in his rehearsed explanation, some interrupting the speech out of excitement at being able to contribute something.
“And you did this on your own?” Suddenly the children fell silent and looked at the ground or anywhere but Mawut’s face.
“They’ve done all the hard work,” Kate interjected, “Finding the plant, germinating it, growing the geraniums, crossing the two species...”
“How wonderful... can I read your notes?” Mawut let out a laugh as a mountain of notebooks were at his disposal in a matter of seconds. “Maybe just one will be enough.”
The teacher’s kindness managed to relax Kate just a little.
“I’ve got better at my flying practice, Coach Mawut!” Greta commented, “Do you think I’ll ever be as good as Lena?” Kate raised her head at the familiar name.
“I’m sure you will.”
“Who?” she asked to extend that conversation.
“Lena?” Mawut pointed to some drawings and nodded, smiling, “Lena Yankelevich, she was an impressive seeker. Several top teams like the Vratsa Vultures or Heidelberg Harriers wanted to make contracts with her.”
“What happened?” Mawut closed the notebook and thanked Micael for his explanation. Greta tugged at Kate’s sleeve, causing the fake wand to brush against her skin.
“She died, Professor Williams...” she lamented.
“In the middle of a match… She disappeared into the mountains and never came back. Some Muggle climbers were in the area and saw her, and we found her surrounded by three men who had stolen her broom. But we shouldn’t have gone...” He paused and in a quieter voice added, “The climbers got scared when they saw us. There was a lot of commotion and they pushed Lena... down the cliff. No one knew how Lena had come to that situation.”
A witch casually approached the table and wrote something down on a piece of paper. Everyone around her watched in silence as she looked at the plant and then nodded before turning away.
Mawut went to add something else, but Libor Marek joined them.
“This is an unfair competition.... and what is this? A plant?” He grimaced, and Kate glanced at Mawut before averting her eyes to the rest of the room.
Astrid Rhode had stepped on the pallet where her lectern stood. After rearranging her papers, the witch cleared her throat and drew everyone’s attention to her.
“I can’t begin to express how wonderful it is to have all of you here on this special occasion. To honour this event, let me introduce you to Lazar Berović, a former winner of the AEDA thanks to his system to identify and capture chameleon ghouls.” Kate joined the round of applause with little interest. The man in question took Astrid’s place and started his speech.
Her mind drifted to the single hair that had fallen on her sleeve, and she dully grabbed it between two fingers as slowly as she could, making an effort of not listening the ghoul-hunting narrative they were being ‘gifted’.
She had a document whose content had expanded over the last month, completing a full page and a successfully finished project. There was nothing to keep her at that school any longer. Nothing, except the original reason she was there: to find a supposed Death Eater.
But I want to leave.
Would Dumbledore be angry if she returned early? But how much longer would she have to stay?
I want to go home. I want to go to Charlie.
Then come home.
Charlie’s voice again, echoing in her head as if he were talking to her right next to her. This time she didn’t panic, it was the push she needed to make her decision. Dumbledore would have to settle for the list.
But she would be leaving a bunch of children in the hands of a murderer. No, she’d figure it out when she was safe. If anyone wanted the scroll Kate had in her possession, she’d have to flee before it was too late.
The speech was over, and the room filled with the previous murmur of happiness and excitement.
“Excuse me...” Kate stepped away from the group, leaving Micael in charge of defending the front, and made her way to the door.
She hadn’t realised how much she’d become accustomed to the noise until she’d walked a few corridors away from the dining room. With everyone partying in the middle, Kate and the silence went hand in hand all the way to the library. Or at least, that was where she was headed, had she not come face to face with Corentin.
“Ah, Katherine, I was just on my way to the exhibition...” The librarian’s smile crumbled at the sight of her expression.
“Corentin...” she whispered, “I think... I need to get out of here.” They both looked around, but they were alone.
“And how do you plan to do that? With a carriage? They don’t leave until the 20th.”
“I have to go get my trunk and apparate. I don’t know... I’ll jump to Romania and... then to England.” Corentin shook his head.
“I’d recommend three jumps at least.”
“I don’t know that many places! I don’t know where we are!”
“Keep your voice down.” They dissimulated again as two wizards passed in front of them. They greeted each other cordially, and when they were out of range, Corentin grabbed Kate’s elbow. “Everyone is in the Dining Hall. In fifteen minutes the band Rhode has brought will start playing so everyone will be paying attention. Go to your room and stay there until I let you know.”
“What are you planning?”
“We’ll apparate together. We’ll do Sweden, Germany, France and you go to England alone.”
“Corentin...”
“You go. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.” The librarian didn’t give Kate a chance to question him, and she watched him march in his bat form down the corridor.
She turned and broke into a jog towards the side staircase on the ground floor, a shortcut that would take her to her bedroom. She slowed when she felt a presence around her. She sensed desperation by legilimency, and it wasn’t her own. Anger too, even fear.
She turned a corner, but someone was waiting for her. Strong but elegant hands clamped over her mouth and grabbed her robe, pinning her against a chest.. Her pulse quickened, as did her breathing. She tried to free herself from the arm that held her, but it was too strong.
Slowly, the hand covering her mouth slid to the side and reached her neck. Kate couldn’t breathe. She felt the hand tighten around her neck and Mer Yankelevich’s needle-like nails made contact with her skin.
“Give me your wand.” Kate made a movement too sharp for the teacher’s liking and she gripped her tighter. “Slowly.” She tried to take a deep breath, but she had begun to shake in such a way she couldn’t concentrate on her breathing. “Give me your wand, now.”
With an idea half-formed in her head, she moved her left arm to release the wand. Seeing her, Mer snatched it from her hand and jabbed it into her back. “Let’s go for a walk. Don’t even think about running or screaming” They strolled to the other end of the ground floor. They passed by several wizards and in the eyes of the world everything was normal.
Just as the teacher muttered “Incarcerous” the Weasley twins’ wand trap rose into the air and began to hit Mer in the head. Taking advantage of her absent-mindedness, Kate broke free of her grip and ran off in search of the front door. She pulled her real wand out of her other sleeve, knowing Mer was very close behind her.
Just a little closer.
She ran through the sea of people in front of the door, hoping to get lost in the crowd. She glanced back as she went, but there was no sign of the teacher.
She left the castle with bated breath, and hastily pulled her diary from her pocket, muttered ‘Reducto’ turning it into a tiny, almost unrecognisable object, and continued running towards the bridge.
Maybe she could take refuge in the forest, go to the coordinates Dumbledore had given her, maybe the stranger would find her if it was an emergency. She cursed when she remembered she had burned the map.
She was about to reach the other side of the bridge when something hit her from behind, causing her to fall to the ground.
With a scream she hit the stone, and from the ground she saw Mer Yankelevich striding towards her. She looked around frantically, searching for her wand. She reached out and drew the weapon towards her before pointing it at the teacher.
Yankelevich paused, pointing her wand at Kate, and waited for her to rise from the ground. Both witches stared down at each other in a duelling stance, and the spells soon began to explode. Kate fought back as best she could, trying to remember some of Marek’s tricks, but Mer was the Charms teacher and she knew that at any moment she would tire herself out until she lost.
“You’ve got something that’s mine!” shouted Mer between curses.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kate started to walk backwards, trying to go around Mer and turn her back on the castle, but the teacher was quicker and cornered her against the bridge wall.
“The stone! Where is it?”
“I don’t have any stone!” Kate peeled away from the bridge wall, dodging spells with little grace. One in particular made her ears pop, and she could barely hear Mer accusing her of lying repeatedly.
“How did you get in the room?” shouted Yankelevich, “The column broke!” Kate gasped as a stunning spell hit her leg and she staggered backwards. Focused on not falling to the floor, she didn’t notice the parchment flying out of her robes.
“You broke it?” Kate asked as she tried to catch her breath, “Why?”
“It wasn’t on purpose. That’s the entrance to Grindelwald’s room, and I was trying to open it.” She took a few steps towards Kate, pointing her wand at her. “So tell me; how did you get in?” her accusatory tone made the young witch flinch. Kate bit her tongue, physically, to avoid revealing how wrong she was. In case she didn’t make it out of this situation alive, the teacher must not know her way into the room.
With Charlie in mind, she lowered her wand, hoping to give Yankelevich a sense of security. Band music began to play from inside the castle, conveniently deafening those inside and isolating them from the catastrophe that may or may not be occurring on the bridge.
In only an instant, Kate noticed how the teacher got distracted by the sound of the instruments and took advantage of her glance over her head to begin a duelling offensive. Mer defended herself gracefully, dodging and occasionally returning her opponent’s attacks. Kate’s chances diminished with each spell.
Yankelevich turned her back on the castle, and it was at that moment Kate realised her previous oversight. There, at the feet of the person who might be her executioner, the list of Death Eaters’ names lay within her grasp.
“Mer,” she began cautiously, “all this is for your sister? None of this is worth it.”
“What do you know! Do you have a dead sibling? You have no idea...” It was a stab in the heart without knowing it. The internal debate in Kate’s stomach was making her dizzy, and as she considered whether to tell her story, the teacher crouched at the sight of the document. “We all lose loved ones. Angelov, Jorgensen, Marek, myself.” Mer ignored her.
“So this is how Karkarov intended to communicate with the Ministry...” The parchment flew through the air as Kate’s spell impacted against the teacher’s hand. Both witches began a dance of lights and explosions again, swirling around unknowingly gravitating towards each other.
The castle doors burst open and a third wave of spells shot towards them. Libor Marek was almost galloping in their direction furiously airing his wand.
“Mer!”
Kate let out a choked cry as Yankelevich twisted her arm backwards. She had managed to physically reach her and after pulling at her forearm, one hand with threatening nails anchored her neck against the teacher’s chest; with the other, she pointed her wand at Kate’s temple.
Both witches looked at Marek with completely opposite expressions.
“Mer... Let go of the girl.” He warned, holding up a hand.
“Look, your guardian angel has arrived. Day after day, that man has been preventing you and I from having a friendly chat, always sitting outside your classroom, hovering in the corridors without letting you out of his sight,” she turned to Marek, “tell me Libor, what has this girl done for you?”
“This is not about her. You think I don’t know you were seeing Karkarov on the sly? You think I don’t know that you threatened to turn him in to the Ministry? You think I don’t know that you’re the one who’s been trying to get to that imaginary room?”
“It’s real! She got in with the help of the bat she has as a friend. And now she’s going to tell me how.”
Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You knew?” The accusation was drowned out when the grip around her neck tightened. “She tried to kill Flavia! She practically couldn’t speak!”
“And who do you think stopped her from going to the hospital wing to finish the job, huh?”
“Enough.” Mer finished. She forced Kate to walk to the bridge wall and bent her over the stone. She stared straight into the eyes of the abyss; the fog prevented her from seeing the end, if the cliff had one, and she knew that if she didn’t act soon all that would be left of her would be her memory. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. You found the resurrection stone, where is it?”
“There was no stone!”
She felt the needle stick as if it had happened in slow motion. She brought her hand to her neck as Mer released her and managed to drop to the ground just before the barrage of spells between her and Marek reached her. If she was dizzy before, now she was convinced she was going to throw up.
She slid down the stone to the ground as her vision blurred. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, trying to maintain some control over her body. Spotting her wand near her, she awkwardly crawled towards it, avoiding a violet light that flew treacherously close to her.
She tried to get to her feet, but instantly collapsed again. The nausea was increasing, her vision was blurring more and more, her pulse was throbbing. She pushed her hair out of her face as best she could and rubbed her eyes, but she couldn’t quite focus on the dancing figures circling before her.
Corentin was waiting for her somewhere, probably by the door of her room to take her to a safer place. But she couldn’t reach him, not without the list.
Kate frantically searched for the paper somewhere on the bridge, hoping with all her might that the wind wouldn’t suddenly pick up. Moving her head like that did not help her condition, and the migraines she had been experiencing made their appearance to reinforce her misfortune.
Where were the cavalry? Why was no one from the castle coming to the rescue?
A bitter taste rose in her throat, forcing her to spit out some saliva, which to her horror was whitish.
No one would come to help her. She would have to save herself.
With what little energy she had left, she stumbled to her feet and took a few steps towards the other side of the bridge. The list was at her fingertips, but the world was spinning and twisting, and now both hands were trembling.
The moment her hand made contact with the paper, a spell exploded against the stone above her head. But she couldn’t back out now. She reached out and caught the parchment between her fingers. She pointed her wand at herself, still shaking, and felt the familiar tug in her stomach that would pull her out. Yankelevich looked with terrified eyes at what was about to happen and pointed her wand at Kate.
The green light of the unforgivable curse never grazed her.
Kate collapsed to the floor of the grimy Grimmauld Place street with a sob. Corentin had warned her about this; I recommend at least three jumps, the librarian had said.
Lying on the floor with her arms stretched out on her sides, she looked to her right; her eyes were full of tears and her arm full of blood.
I recommend at least three jumps.
She felt herself choked up again. This time, some foam adorned the corners of her lips, while trying to reach her wand with her left hand.
Three weary taps against the ground caused the building in front of her to awaken, revealing the door of the Black family home. Breathing was getting harder and harder, and with her ears increasingly clogged, Kate tried, to no avail, to stop her splinching from bleeding. Without dittany, it would be impossible.
She raised her wand towards the building with a groan. Unable to utter a word, she concentrated on firing several red lights into the windows. Some bounced off the walls and others off the glass, and she prayed it would be enough, for keeping her arm up was draining her strength.
As the convulsions became more violent, her hand fell to the floor with the rest of her body.
Attempting to keep her eyes open, she made out figures coming out of the house; one was a lanky, black blob she likened to a Dementor by the way his cloak moved; the other was much shorter and rounder with a hint of red hair. The rest of the people who rushed at her were indistinguishable.
Severus Snape forced her eyes open with his fingers, wearing a worried expression. Recognising him, Kate screamed, or at least she thought she did. The only sound that came out of her mouth was a painful sob.
“Darling, darling, look at me, it’s going to be alright,” Molly reassured. Kate wanted to shout that nothing was right, that she was in danger, that the man who was pouring the contents of a potion down her throat was a traitor.
The convulsions hadn’t stopped yet, but the unbearable burning in her arm did. She wanted to watch her wound heal, but Molly clutched her tear-soaked cheek preventing her from seeing the amount of blood that had gushed out from her arm.
“You’ll be fine, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.”
She choked on her saliva and Molly tilted her head to help her spit out the remnants of foam. Several conversations sprang up around her; all seemed distant, like an echo in a cavern.
When the shaking stopped, the relief was almost immediate. Snape forced her jaw open, emptying a vial into her mouth again. The commotion didn’t seem to end; several wizards and witches combed the street for any Muggle witnesses, and others were busy inspecting windows and doors.
Intense pain engulfed her head and mind. Attributing it to migraines, Kate missed the long, silver strand that shot from her temple in the direction of an unknown wand. She closed her eyes, and with one last deep breath everything went black.
--
[Part 17]
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A/N: Oooooooooof I dont know how did you react to this I’m so nervous
Tag List: @eldritchscreech
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#charlie weasley#charlie x jacob's sibling#charlie weasley fanfiction#charlie weasley x mc#charlie weasley x ofc#charlie weasley/mc#charlie weasley/ofc#kate williams#durmstrang
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Catching the Highlights
It wasn’t like she was nervous, not really. Or jealous, even. Honestly, the entire story was more than a little hysterical and very nearly distracted Belle from the obviously frustrated way Will kept moving his hands at the end of the second period. Still, there was something about sitting in the stands that felt different and maybe hearing about how her maybe-boyfriend made out with Anna Vankald one time was just the push she needed. To make things a bit more real.
———
Word Count: Nearly 4.5K
AN: This is a thing I do now, apparently. Write Blue Line! Will and Belle. And poorly photoshop eights into sixes on jerseys. Although I draw the line at making the girl that same photo wear a skirt. Anyway, this continues to be real fun, I hope the five people enjoying it continue to enjoy it and I think I’ve got at least one more idea for these dweebs. So, that’ll probably happen sooner rather than later. Possibly with more badly executed photoshops.
———
It had something to do with his eyes.
With the way they narrowed ever so slightly, able to thin without causing any sort of furrow between his brow or lines of frustration on his forehead. They’d pinch. His eyes, that was. Make it so it was difficult for Belle to see the brown there or the bits of gold that she was at least ninety-six percent positive she wasn’t imagining and only slightly less confident had something to do with her.
She’d never really been one for details, like that.
Strange as it might have been.
Details were the lifeblood of research. Tiny bits of information that could sway a doctoral defense or prove an argument, but Belle had always been far more interested in the sweeping potential of a very good story, and research had that too, she supposed. To some degree, at least. Although, that was getting existential. Her work was good. She was good. Fine, even. Definitely fine. Nothing to see here. Nothing to worry about. No reason to compare the strange and not entirely unfamiliar sensation of fluttering in the pit of her stomach whenever Will glanced her way to the decidedly still nature of all her internal organs while she spent eight to ten hours uptown five days a week.
Sitting at her desk, she regularly tried to fit into the mold, everything everyone expected her to be with the title she had, and that required her to think less about the bigger picture. That sounded negative. It wasn’t. Probably. Hopefully. Just required further research. More details and specific examples.
All of them regarding the nature of Will’s eyes.
Even so, she—
Part of her missed it. The sweep. The really good stories. Ones that were less clinical and more fantastical. And the deep breath that always came just seconds before being overwhelmed. By the current and the wave and those were rather similar, as far as analogies went, but all the best stories always left her a little overwhelmed, and Belle’s cheeks were starting to ache as something bubbled out of her. Laughter, in its purest form. Bouncing and bounding and echoing off otherwise abandoned walls, the pair of them tucked into a corner of the Garden concourse because they hadn’t actually decided this was a secret, but Anna Vankald was apparently living her life under some sort of blood oath, all sworn secrecy, and poorly executed winks in the second period.
Like this was hidden. A tiny detail tucked away. Never debated. Never highlighted in the opening paragraphs of a twenty-six-page dissertation. With Chicago-style formatting.
No one ever knew how to property do Chicago-style formatting.
Belle might have hated Chicago-style formatting.
She’d never been to Chicago.
Had never been—
Will’s eyes were barely slits on his face.
Twisted lips loomed above her, not quite frustration, but inching closer the longer she kept laughing, and she refused to linger on what that meant. The laughing. The happiness. Joy, maybe. She looked up, instead. Let her head bump the wall her shoulders already had, appreciating the soft scrape of what might have been concrete against her hair, like that would ground her or slow her overactive imagination, and his hair was still wet.
“She wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
Belle bit the side of her tongue. Didn’t help, really. With her laughter problem. “Keeping state secrets?”
“It happened once.”
“Yes, she mentioned that, too.”
He might have growled. Some strange part of her wanted him to, relished whatever the technical term was for the sound that eked out between his bared teeth, rolling his whole head in the process. Their noses nearly collided.
Belle pushed up on her toes.
To kiss the tip of Will’s nose.
“That’s distracting,” he grumbled, but his hand had inched under the hem of her shirt, and that meant he’d managed to get the hem of her shirt out of the skirt she was wearing.
“Should I have worn your jersey or something?”
His eyes snapped. Open. Brown and gold, and that wasn’t a particularly swoon-like combination in any of the stories Belle had memorized while she was growing up. Heroes with royal titles and broadswords quite literally made to challenge dragons and hordes of villains always came with blonde hair and a slight curl, flashing blue eyes that twinkled in sunlight and starlight, and Belle’s hand didn’t shake. When she brushed the few drops of water clinging to Will’s temple away.
Her calves were starting to ache, too. Made sense. She was still pushed up on her toes.
And the Rangers had lost. Not—well, not badly. By two goals, and one of those was an empty-net goal, which was a term Belle figured out all on her own. Well before Anna mumbled explanations under her breath, glaring daggers any time the Islanders fan two rows in front of them dared to open his mouth.
Honestly, that was part of the problem. He kept yelling, and Anna looked dangerously close to staging some sort of public execution in section 204 and Belle had asked. For details. Wanted a good story, or possibly a distraction because she’d noticed the way Will’s hands moved at the end of the second period, staging a rather enthusiastic conversation with a man she’d never met, but his jersey said LOCKSLEY, and she didn’t think the jersey would lie to her.
She was going to blame the Islanders fan.
“If you did that,” Will mumbled, in response to a question she’d legitimately almost forgotten about, “I’m not sure I would have been able to get out on the ice.”
“Oh, compliment or—”
“Definite compliment. Was that not obvious?”
“Well, you’re making out with so many other girls.”
Her laugh clung to the letters, pulling her lips behind her teeth to keep from smiling like a total idiot. Something was happening. With the flutters and the overall ability of her nasal passages to get oxygen back to her lungs, and it must have been a trick of the light. The way Will’s eyes flashed, gaze flicking up beneath eyelashes and just above the half curve of his mouth, and Belle’s knees felt a little unsteady beneath her. Fighting against the force of a wholly imaginary, even more staggering wave.
“One time,” he said, straining on every letter, “it happened one time, and—seriously, why was she talking about this with you?”
“Asked for a fun and interesting story about her.”
Will’s eyes bugged, another shift in his voice that was much more like a crack as he nearly shouted, “And that’s what she came up with?”
“Said anything she had to tell me about her childhood was boring. Mostly because a lot of it would focus on KJ, because—”
“That’s Cap.”
Belle clicked her tongue. “Wow, thank you for that. What would I do without you?”
“If you wore my jersey, I think my head would explode.”
“Not the compliment you think it is, either. That’d be a lot of blood. Who would even clean that up? Couldn’t make someone here do it; that’d be mean. Cruel and unusual, probably.”
“I like your skirt.”
“Better,” Belle laughed, in spite of her best efforts. Which were really lackluster, quite frankly. “Anyway, the childhood was apparently super boring, and there were shenanigans of rookie season to discuss.”
“She grew up in a mansion!”
“Yeah, we got to that part eventually, although technically, I think it was just a brownstone.”
“Rich kid description.”
“You can tell her that if you want, I’m sure,” Belle reasoned, but his lips were back to twisted, and she was already on her toes. Made sense to use that to her advantage. Pressing kisses against the edges of his mouth, alternating back and forth until it felt a little like a rhythm she could time the rest of her vaguely unsteady breathing to, and she certainly did try. Didn’t work, but something about effort and attempts and those were—
Details, really.
“I like her,” Belle added lightly, mouth moving across a stubble-covered cheek. Part of her felt ridiculous. Always did with things like this. She wasn’t the story. Will wasn’t the hero. He and his teammate had gotten into a fight at the end of the second period, for God’s sake. And this wasn’t—well, it wasn’t a fairy tale. No matter how much sweeping there might have been. With its butterfly wings and salt-filled waves, all of which existed solely in Belle’s subconscious.
But there was this other part.
Part of her that didn’t always linger behind her desk. Flitted through imaginary scenarios and stories stored in the back corner of her brain, the same one that could still smell salt air with startling clarity, and remembered the precise taste of freshly-made taffy from that one restaurant on the beach. Details. She remembered those details. Held them fast, afraid they’d disappear otherwise, and made sure they played prominent roles in every daydream.
For fear of what would happen if she didn’t.
How they’d fade. Grow grey and thin, and it was a contradiction. Right in the middle of her. And that scared her just a little bit, because whatever was happening now, right at that moment, with a hand flat on the curve of her hip and her heart doing its abject best to beat its way out of her chest, she felt the same exact way. Sweeping and detailed and not the least bit jealous.
There was no need to be, really. Not when she was fairly certain she could drown in the golden flecks of Will’s eyes. Constantly staring at her as they were apt to do.
“Do you want to hear the gist of the story?”
Will’s lips pursed. Stayed that way even as Belle’s lips continued their path across his face, spending at least two seconds at the side of his left eye and the still slightly damp area surrounding his right temple. She started picking up speed. Quick kisses that she could only hope felt as strongly as the prickle of her lips suggested. But then Will’s fingers tightened. Not much. Just enough to be obvious, and Belle grinned against his cheek.
“I lived it,” Will argued, but there wasn’t much fight in it. He’d done that already, anyway. They’d get to that part, eventually.
“As the story goes, though, there was some less than savory libations involved, and—”
“I’m still not convinced that vodka was legal in the continental United States.”
“Suggests it’d be fair game in Hawaii and Alaska, though. Possibly Puerto Rico. I’m not sure what the rules on that are. Maybe the US Virgin Islands. What about Guam? You think your alcohol would be fair game in Guam?”
“I’d have to check the label.”
“You still have it?” Belle balked, almost fully and entirely prepared for the flash of amusement and the precise angle of eyebrow jump. Almost being the key word, there. Another burst of laughter tumbled out of her, lips on her cheeks that time, all blazing and prickling, and that one wasn’t inherently positive, but she was slightly worried her hair was going to get caught in the concrete of the wall and she could not possibly be expected to think when Will’s hand kept doing whatever it was it was doing.
“No, no, we did a very good job of drinking that entire thing, but I’d know that bottle anywhere.”
“Where were you buying illegal alcohol? Also, how did you not die drinking hundred-proof vodka?”
“Pure force of will.”
“And bad hockey games.”
“Those too,” Will admitted grudgingly. An edge crept into his voice. Likely born in the second period of this game. She kissed the bridge of his nose. The tip. Between his eyebrows. Waiting for some of the tension to leave his shoulder blades, and that was all she got. Some. It was enough, for now.
“You want to talk about that?”
“Losing a playoff game my rookie season? That happened a bunch of times, babe, this was just—”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Belle interrupted.
He grinned. Tension kept pulling taut between his shoulders and the slope of his cheekbones, the second of which was really starting to offend Belle on an almost fundamental level, but his smile looked legitimate, and that was enough.
“Should I go defend your honor in the locker room, darling?”
The grin widened. “Trying to get a rise out of me, but gender is a social construct, so I don’t think it affects nicknames, and I’m a real big fan of that one, actually.”
“No rise,” Belle promised, fingers hovering above his shoulders, and they both flinched when he winced. “Going to be honest, the hitting sort of freaked me out.”
“Locksley wasn’t going to hit me.”
“Well, yeah, then I’d have to punch him in the locker room.”
“Keep your thumb inside your fist,” Will suggested, “that way you won’t break it.”
“Right, right, naturally,” Belle mumbled, and she didn’t know how they managed it. Stayed upright while his hand shifted further up the back of her shirt and her teeth grazed the curve of his jaw. She was on something of a mission, now. To cover every inch of his face. With her lips. “Anyway, as Anna told this wholly fascinating story, there was a lot of vodka involved, a very bad loss, some card game—”
“—Kings.”
“That’s a drinking game.”
“Well, now you’re getting into unnecessary specifics.”
Her body shook. Against Will’s. Who almost immediately groaned. Presumably at the location and exact angle of her hips. “Ok, so there were cards involved in your drinking game. Pizza was eaten, alcohol was downed in alarmingly large gulps.”
“Editorializing a bit, mon bonheur.”
“What’s that one?”
“Happiness.”
“Oh, that one’s nice.”
Will huffed. “They’re all super nice; I have a very large crush on you; I don’t want to talk about making out with Anna Vanklad anymore.”
He said it quickly, rushing over the words. Some might even say sweepingly. Where Belle was the some. In that instance, specifically. Someone, more like. She didn’t care. Was not spending even a second on proper sentence structure or appropriate internal grammar, was far too preoccupied with the circumference of Will’s eyes. And that one muscle in his jaw. Jumping with startling regularity, really. Totally different from her heart and her pulse and it was difficult to catch her breath.
Felt a bit like she’d played a hockey game.
A walking contradiction.
Where she also wasn’t walking anywhere. At all. Had absolutely no intention of walking away. From this.
“Was it not a good make-out?”
“I honestly don’t remember a lot of it,” Will sighed, another roll of his neck. Something cracked. “That’s not game-related,” he added, and she could only imagine it had to do with the look on her face, “anyway, it was just...there was that vodka involved, and Vankald spent a ton of time at our apartment. She wasn’t Cap’s sister-in-law yet, but they’d grown up together, was my friend, and he’d fallen asleep, so…”
“Figured you just make out?”
“Not a lot of thought involved in it. She was a fixture, y’know? Shit, that sounds shitty. Does that sound super shitty?
“Drifting toward shitty, yeah.”
“Anna came to visit a lot because no matter what she may claim, she worries about Cap as much as anyone. Even El and Leader, and that’s—”
“Wait, you have an Alien Leader you all report to?”
“You’re ruining this story.”
Her laugh got caught. Directly between them, all mouths and that goddamn hand, Belle’s neck tilting back on what might have been instinct and need, and she’d gasped more in the last four hours than she had in her entire life. “Tell me more about your Alien Leader, please.”
“He only acts like an alien.”
“Huh, that cleared up absolutely nothing.”
“You should keep kissing me.”
“Compare and contrast, huh?”
Will groaned. Again. Part two. Let his mouth drag down the side of her throat, and Belle couldn’t stop laughing. Happiness poured out of her, new and a little strange in its quantity. As if she was made of the stuff, even worried as she was through all three periods. She’d kept wringing her fingers together. At one point, Anna had to hold her hand.
“Ruining,” another kiss, “this,” teeth on her collar bone, “baby girl.”
Suggesting that she lit up in a way that reminded her of a Christmas tree was—
Farcical, maybe.
Nothing inhuman happened. There were no bells. No whistles. No flashing neon lights suggesting this was the moment and a conversation regarding the man with his hand currently inching towards her right boob drunkenly making out with someone who wasn’t Belle should not have been so—
Fun.
God, it was fun. She was having fun. With him and because of him. Hockey nonsense aside.
Because, since coming to New York with her invisible tail tucked between her legs and the near-desperate desire to get away from that seaside town with its ghosts and its demands and its plan for a future that simply did not fit her anymore, Belle had tried. Really. To shed that persona. To be someone new. Hard as she tried, though, there were ties. Those lingering memories. Ones that dug in their heels, while she gripped others with both hands. She was, and she wasn’t. Small town and big town, a librarian who couldn’t care less about details while focusing on specifics with everything in her.
And none of it ever really made much sense.
Hurt her head to think about, everything she tried to contain and the worry that ate away at her sometimes. That she’d messed up, ruined all of it and—
She didn’t kiss Will’s mouth.
Peppered his face, instead. With her lips and the feelings behind them, mapping the space until she was certain she knew it as well as her own, and she wanted to. Wanted to learn everything about this guy who felt as jagged as she did, made up of right and wrong and mistakes and possibility and she knew it was only a matter of time before he got impatient.
She liked that about him.
That he didn’t always wait for her to catch up. Just knew that she would.
Plus, his tongue in her mouth was really something Belle was starting to appreciate. In an obsessive sort of way.
She might have groaned that time.
Fingers scrambled against the front of his shirt — team-branded, again, and that shouldn’t have been charming, but it was and likely would continue to be, and there were goosebumps on her skin. They were really very good at kissing. Each other, specifically.
“I like you, too,” Belle said, and it was a strange thing not to be embarrassed by the breathless nature of her voice.
Will’s chest was practically heaving, though. So that put them on even ground. Common ground, at least.
“You’re not mad?”
“Give me some credit, sweetheart.”
He chuckled, warm air against the top of her shoulder. “Was a very long time ago, for whatever that might be worth.”
“Twelve galleons.”
“I don’t know the conversion rate of that.”
“No one does, so I think we’re all in the same boat.”
“You don’t think Jo knows the conversion rate of her own fictional monetary system?”
Belle shook her head. “I absolutely do not, because she was a shit world-builder and also a fairly terrible person now, so—” She shrugged. Will beamed. Some joke about a Christmas tree.
“So,” he echoed, “the thought of making out with Little Vankald has never once again crossed my mind.”
Someone scoffed. With entirely false indignation.
Using Will’s shoulder as leverage — the non-bruised one, naturally — Belle got enough height beneath her toes to see Anna cross her arms. And scowl at the pair of them. Badly. The scowl lasted all of five seconds before it evolved into its own rather uproarious laughter, another echo that filled the empty space of a concourse Belle could not imagine they were supposed to be standing on. Only a matter of time until someone else found them.
She wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, actually.
“That’s super rude, Scarlet,” Anna hissed, muffled footsteps that only lost their volume because of the overall status of Belle’s heart. Still trying to fly out of her. “But I want it noted, for the record and all that, that I don’t want to make out with you ever again, either.”
“Do you remember it being way wetter than it should have been?”
“You problem, absolutely.”
“I haven’t had that issue,” Belle argued, mostly to guarantee the quirk of Will’s lips. Worked like a charm. Or something less lame sounding. In her head. Most of this commentary was in her head.
“Lucky you,” Anna drawled.
“C’mon,” Will whined, “no one told you to start with this story.”
“Start with, huh?”
His eyes. Were becoming a serious problem and a growing majority in the basis for most of Belle’s heart-related issues, but she forced herself to meet his gaze and tilt her chin up and she didn’t think she imagined the way his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. In an appraising sort of way.
“I really would have told you. Eventually”
“I know.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” Belle repeated, “and I’m really not threatened by someone who you still regularly refer to as Little Vankald.” Anna flipped him off. Or them, maybe. As a collective unit. Belle wanted them to be a collective unit. “I could order a jersey online, right?”
“Nah, I know people, don’t waste your money.”
“Could probably get Kris to help,” Anna added, “as the physical form of my apology.”
Belle waved her off. “It was a good story. Highs, lows, drama, does your—do we call him your brother-in-law? He’s not the Alien Leader, right?”
“You mean Liam?”
Will’s laugh was more like a barely-contained snort of humor and shoulders that were tight for a reason that did not involve pessimistic emotions. Belle’s lips twitched. “Just knew that off the top of your head, did you?” she asked.
“If you knew Liam, you’d understand. Was Scarlet suggesting we’re all aliens?”
“Nah, just him.”
“I did no such thing,” Will objected, another glance in Anna’s direction, “Cap looking for us?”
She nodded. “Locksley too. Should I be worried Mom and Dad are getting a divorce?”
“You’re the most dramatic person alive.”
“Lots of hand moving between the two of you, your girlfriend was worried.”
It was Belle’s turn to tense. With what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Some sort of emotion, she assumed. Adrenaline, maybe. Hope, possibly. And it wasn’t like she was waiting for labels, but she’d come to pretty good terms with her ability to counter herself in the midst of her own silent monologue, and Will was staring again. Straight through her, it seemed.
Or maybe directly into her.
That was sentimental, though.
“Does Killian know that you two made out once?”
Anna hissed. “If you tell KJ about this, I will actually have to strangle you, no matter how much I like you and how much Scarlet wants to date you.”
“Aren’t we dating already?”
Anna opened her mouth, what Belle knew would be more sarcasm and the teasing nature of her and Will’s relationship, but she had more pressing issues, and he answered, anyway. “Yeah, we totally are, plus I like you way more than I hate Ariel’s inevitable victory lap, so I mean, that’s—”
Cutting him off was rude. Not nice. Inevitable.
Based solely on the size of his eyes and their gold-like nature.
“I, uh—” Belle started, “I know we’re not supposed to accept the set-up, and Ariel’s going to be so annoying, but maybe we could…” She shrugged. Tried to stay focused. And upright. Continued standing seemed important in a moment like this. “We’re both kinda messed up, don’t you think?”
“Little,” Will murmured.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, and I know that we’re...I mean, this is good, and I’m mostly good with it, but also, I was super nervous during the game, and what were you guys fighting about?”
“Fighting is a strong word. More like discussing how Locksley should learn to keep his stick on the ice so he can get that tip from my slap.”
“Weird turn of phrase.”
“Slap shot.”
“No time for full terminology, huh?”
“How goes the understanding icing battle?”
She was going to sprain her cheeks. Maybe Ariel could help with that. After gloating. Ariel was absolutely going to gloat. “Getting there,” Belle promised, and it was not about hockey, “don’t you think?”
“Mmhm.”
“So, uh—I don’t know what you do after games, but…”
“Little Vankald is totally here to drag us uptown because Cap regularly challenges her in the dramatics, and I bet he’s hungry.”
“You eat after games?”
“Ariel’s husband owns that restaurant.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s how I met her actually. Good onion rings. Weird we didn’t ever see each other there at the same time, though.”
Will hummed. Stuck out his lower lip. Challenged her without saying anything, and Anna was still standing there, and security had to be aware of them, but Belle was in the middle of something, and it was good and great and made absolutely no sense because she was not a pro sports girlfriend, but the labels really weren’t important, and it was all—
She gasped. For, like, the four-thousandth time that night.
Saved the best for last, though.
Will’s mouth found hers in a crashing sort of way that altered the cosmos, or at least Belle’s perception of the world around her. Particularly when her hands were suddenly more like barnacles, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he’d disappear otherwise. Knuckles cracked and breath caught, everything spinning and staying frustratingly still, and one of her heels popped out of her shoe. Pressing back up on her toes didn’t do her calves any favors, but she wasn’t bruised and they were both a disaster, and the tongue thing really was pretty fantastic.
Tracing the inside of her mouth and the seam of her lips, Will’s rumble of pleasure echoed between her ribs, enough to spur Belle’s arm up as she slung it around his neck. Her fingers found skin and short hair, nails scratching so she could hear that sound again.
She closed her eyes.
Let the details seep in, and settle into her soul.
Until Anna coughed, and there was a security guard standing next to her, and Will’s head dropped to Belle’s collar bone again. He kissed there, too. Before spinning on his sandals, all confidence, and bravado, a reasonable excuse that someone, somewhere, would probably believe. Not this security guard, but that probably wasn’t important, and Belle had helped Will make an Instagram account.
So, something about a cat and a bag and—
His fingers laced through hers.
“Wanna challenge Locksley to a fight for my honor?”
She scrunched her nose. Pretended to grimace when his lips pressed against her cheek. Anna gagged. “Yeah,” Belle said, “that’s exactly what I want to do.”
#scarlet beauty#scarlet beauty ff#scarlet beauty fic#blue line one shots#defensive!blue line#i don't know guys—these have just taken on a life of their own#will i put them on ao3? maybe who can say#i mean i can#but...they're still kind of short i think#for ao3#if any of the five you reading this want specific scenes let me know#i've got time between waiting on people to make their deadlines
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reading the stars | jimin
snippet: it’s Jimin’s birthday and what better way to celebrate than by telling him all about his astrology chart?
pairing: jimin x female reader
genre: fluff
au: slice of life, established relationship
rating: pg
word count: 1.5k
warnings: none!
a/n: this is a birthday gift for my lovely friend @parksfilter!! Kenz, you are such a sweet soul that has blessed my life. I hope you enjoy this little fic and that you have the best day! today is your day! thank you for being such an amazing friend to me and I hope that you’ll be in my life for many more years to come!
“Where are we going?” Jimin huffs behind a pile of blankets tickling at his nose. The air is crisp and cold tonight, not unlike any other night really, but tonight, it feels more alive.
“Hurry up and you’ll find out!” You call behind you, unable to hide the giant smile growing across your face.
You and Jimin have been dating just a little over four months now, and things have never been better. Normally, you’re not the type of girl to celebrate every single “monthiversary”, but tonight is slightly different.
"The perfect way to end the perfect birthday!" Jimin smiles blissfully as you both trek up the hillside.
"You literally just asked where we were going not even two seconds ago!" You laugh, transitioning the picnic basket from one hand to the other. This hill is a lot steeper than what you remembered from last time you were here a few weeks ago. Hair is flying out of your ponytail and into your face as you desperately try to mask your heavy breathing.
"The stars are out, the moon light is shining, and I'm with you. It's already perfect." Jimin smiles at you and leans in for a quick peck on your lips, which requires you to maneuver around the armfull of blankets.
Pausing on the hillside, you melt into his kiss, wishing it was longer. But there is plenty of time for that later. For now, you need to get to your destination.
After a few more moments of walking, you finally round the curve of the hill and reach your spot.
"Ah, finally!" You groan and jog over to the flattened ground. There's a large maple tree with leaves sprouting new orange spots, some quivering with the anticipation of falling soon. You motion for Jimin to place the blanket down further away from the tree, so that it'll be in the background to where you’ll be sitting. You were hoping more of the leaves had fallen so that you could sit beneath it and view the sky between the skeletal branches, but this will do just fine.
Once the blanket is placed, Jimin promptly jumps down upon it, opening his arms to accept the picnic basket, which you hand over willingly.
Inside, there's sandwiches, some of your favorite chips and crackers and a small slice of cake you got from the bakery down the street from where you live. You figured it would be too hard to lug around an actual full sized cake. There's some fun candles tucked tightly in your pant pocket that you're just itching to light for your boyfriend.
The food disappears fast as you both laugh through full mouths, sparkling cider even coming out of Jimin's nose after you tell the world's lamest joke.
"You're so..." Jimin coughs, trying to contain his coated bubbled laughter, "you're so stupid. How are you still this funny after months of us being together?"
Smirking, "That's the beauty of my charm. It never fades."
Jimin shakes his head at your humble response, looking up at the sky and getting lost in the stars.
"Weird to think that people spend their whole life studying those small specs of light, huh?" There's wonder in his eyes, a look not so foreign to you now.
You sit back and look up with him. "Right? I can't believe that people still deny astrology is real even though it's literally based on the stars themselves. There's science backing it all up."
Jimin makes a clicking sound with his tongue, moving his mouth sideways as he adjusts his sitting position. "I don't blame the skeptics. Astrology is so...weird. People base their whole identities around it and believe in horoscopes as if some stranger actually knows them."
"But, you just said people dedicate their lives to the stars. Isn't it kinda like, the same thing?" You crumple up your sandwich wrapper and toss it back into the basket, a little nervous that instead of celebratory, the conversation is becoming more stiff. The edge of the blanket looks enticing to fidget with, but you choose to stare at your boyfriend instead. His eyes look beyond the hillside thoughtfully, flicking his gaze up to the stars ever so slightly. Lip raw from gnawing on it so often, Jimin continues to grab at his bottom lip with his teeth, gnawing softly and slowly as he ponders over his next few thoughts.
"It just feels so...out of reach I guess. Kinda like magic."
"People are scared of it because of how real it feels. And it's different." Calmly, you scoot a little bit closer to Jimin and rest your head on his shoulder. Instantly, he leans his head on top of your own and it’s a comforting, familiar feeling that puts your previous anxieties at ease.
"I didn't know you were so passionate about astrology," he states.
"We've been together all these months now! How could you not have known? I swear I talk about it all the time."
"I guess you have mumbled a few words under your breath about random strangers before,” he chuckles, “I didn't really understand and always forgot to ask."
You laugh, leaning away from Jimin as you do so.
"That's me publicly guessing what someone's sun sign could be! Like, when there’s a girl at the mall looking back and forth between two of the same shirt in two different colors? Classic Libra sun. Or when you hear someone laughing loudly and everyone just naturally gravitates towards them? Gemini sun or Leo sun."
Jimin stares at you with large, confused doe eyes.
Thinking for a moment, it finally hits you why he's staring at you this way, "you don't know what a sun sign is, do you?" You cry out in frustration. Jimin just casually shrugs and takes a sip of his water.
"Do you even know what your own sun sign is?" The surprise is overtaking all of your other emotions. This is pretty basic stuff that most people know. Nowadays, people know which hogwarts house they belong in, their MBTI, and their sun, moon, and rising signs. Hell, it's in almost every girl's Instagram bio.
Sighing louder than normal, you wrap your arms around the side of Jimin's shoulders and squeeze him tightly. "This was supposed to be your birthday date night, but now it's a lecture. Before we have cake you will learn your astrology chart."
Jutting out his bottom lip, Jimin stares at you with wide pleading eyes, like a toddler asking for a toy in the store.
"But...it's my birthday," he says in his overly cute child-like voice that is nearly impossible for you to say no too. Your eye practically twitches with the thought of telling this adorable boyfriend of yours no.
Yet, you hold strong, shaking your head quickly while shutting your eyes- the only true way to combat his adorable pleading gaze.
“We are doing this right now and if you do well, IF, then your reward will be the cake.”
Groaning, Jimin rocks back on his tailbone, his criss-crossed legs going up in the air as he holds tightly to his knees with his hands.
“Fine,” he gives up, “let’s get this over with.”
With newfound energy, you reach into the picnic basket and pull out your pen and notepad- which you have with you at all times for instances just like this, then you roll onto your stomach with your phone in your hands. “Okay, so there’s this website I use, it’s super helpful, it’ll show you your entire chart and even has paragraphs breaking down each planet placement you have, basically breaking down your personality for yourself!”
Jimin matches your position, brushing his shoulder up against yours before leaning his head there.
“Okay, you were born in Busan, right?” You start typing before you even finish asking.
“Right.”
Okay and then what time were you born?”
“I don’t know.”
You playfully smack him on the shoulder with your notebook. “Jimin!”
“Is this something normal people equipped in their wallets or something? Their entire birth charts and hospital records? How about I give you my social security number next?” He quips back, unable to hide his playful smile.
“No,” you laugh, “but you should know what time you were born!” An idea pops into your head; you clutch Jimin’s arm and shake him slightly.
“Call your mother!”
Scoffing, Jimin replies, “right now? Y/n. It’s almost 2am. My mother would have a heart attack if I called her at this hour.”
“But it’s important!” You whine.
“Is it really?” He’s still laughing, and this small voice in your head hopes you’re not annoying him too much.
The wind blows softly around you, shaking the leaves on the tree in the back. Telling yourself that yes it is a bit ridiculous to try to call his mother at this hour, especially because the relationship is still fairly new so you haven’t had much time to truly get acquainted with her.
“Fine. We can learn about your sun and moon signs tonight. But, tomorrow morning, we are finding out what time you were born so we can get your rising sign!”
“This is all gibberish to me.”
Smiling fondly, you pick up your dark pink glitter pen and uncap it.
“By the end of the night, you’ll be an expert. Now, let me break it down for you.”
𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
© all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinned 08/10/20
#bts#bangtanarmynet#thekpopnet#btsguild#btswritingcafe#btsghostiewritersnet#cypherwritersnet#bangtanhq#ficswithluv#park jimin#jimin x reader#jimin x female reader#jimin x you#jimin fluff#jimin slice of life#jimin#bts jimin#bts x you#bts reader insert#bts fluff#jimin reader insert#jimin fic#jimin fics#park jimin fics#bts fan fic#bts fics
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nobody asked but here are my personal top five pat gill videos | a 2.1k word long post where i rank and review pat gill’s videos for just way too long.
Right around the tail end of April, 2020, I fell into the rabbit hole of my current obsession; Polygon Dot Com Video Content. As a consequence of this was being introduced to the phenomenon of Pat Gill. A dire consequence of that consequence was me slowly, deeply, irrevocably, finding myself attracted to this marionette of a man. So, I enjoy his content and I think he’s hot and that combined with the fact that some of my friends bully me over that latter fact has inspired me to do this: rank my personal favorite Pat Gill videos in a post that’s entirely too long.
Before I get straight into the rankings, I need to explain my process.
First, I needed to narrow my scope. Polygon has a lot of videos. Polygon has a lot of videos with Pat Gill in them. If I didn’t narrow my scope, I would either go bonkers yonkers or have a list that would be kilometric in length and thus miss the entire point of ranking altogether. So, for my sanity, I am excluding any videos that are a part of a Polygon video series. This means no Overboard, no Gill and Gilbert, no Video Game Theatre, etc. If I included these, I would cry. I do not want to cry over Polygon Dot Com Video Producer Pat Gill.
Second, I need a criteria. If I just ranked videos with no system, I would find myself endlessly rearranging my list based on whatever thought comes out on top in my mind at the given moment. I am a disorganized person, so I need rules. I have decided that I will rank Pat Gill videos using the EEEH criteria.
Entertainment. Do I smile, watching the video? Do I chortle? Am I filled with the embarrassing urge to show this video to my sister and derive glee from her laughing at the exact same moment I laughed? Entertainment is key.
Education. Did I come out of this video knowing something I originally did not know? More importantly, was I engaged in the learning process? I come from a family of teachers, so I have high standards when it comes to education. If I am to learn, I must learn well.
Exaltation. This is a bit of an oddball criteria, but it is important to me. The word “exalted” is defined as “elevated in rank, character, or status.” This criteria refers to how good it is at exalting, elevating, pulling me out of a depressive episode. That is to say I’ve been in a depressive episode for the past month and whether or not the video made me stop crying and brush my teeth is essential. Polygon video content has been integral to my serotonin production lately, and thus the video’s ability of acting as an audiovisual antidepressant for me factors into the rankings.
[BONUS POINTS] Hotness. How Hot Is Pat Gill In It? I felt bad, morally, ranking videos based on how good looking I thought Pat Gill was in it---because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that, and people don’t exist to be beautiful, they just are, and I agree---so I’m relegating this criteria as a bonus point. Standard is 0, because he’s always hot in my mind, but he gets plus points if he is exemplary in the hotness department.
The maximum score for each of these criteria is 5 points, making the perfect score a 15, but because of the bonus points, a 20 is, hypothetically, possible.
With that out of the way, let me dive right into it.
5. The fastest interview ever with Ben Schwartz from Sonic the Hedgehog
youtube
Entertainment: 5
Education: 2
Exaltation: 2
Hotness: +2
Total Score: 11
Pat Gill is a good interviewer, he’s engaging and fun and keeps the interview interesting, but this interview is particularly special because it seems that, and let me quote Youtube user AudreyN who left a comment on this video stating “ben schwartz consumed all seven chaos emeralds prior to this interview.” Pat Gill and Ben Schwartz’s dynamic is amazing, and by “dynamic” I do mean “Ben Schwartz absolutely just fucking dunking on Pat Gill for 14 entire minutes.” and it is glorious.
For Entertainment this scores a solid 5. Quite honestly the funniest interview I’ve ever watched in my entire life. Just the sheer beauty in the exchange [Pat] “You would use Sonic’s power to gaslight me?” [Ben] “Just you.” In terms of Education, I guess I did learn a bunch of things about the Sonic movie that I didn’t know before, but the avenue by which it was portrayed in was not exactly the most engaging, more like I was absorbing it via watching two experts discuss on a webinar. I would have given just 1 point to Education but I made it 2 because of the wonderful knowledge that Pat Gill can draw a pretty good Sonic in a few seconds. When it comes to Exaltation, I must admit that while this video got quite a few laughs out of me, it didn’t make me want to get out of bed and take a shower.
BONUS: Pat is +2 hot in it. His short hair makes him look very handsome. He’s a spiffy boy, in this video. Very, very good.
4. Pat Will Not Tweet at Nintendo This Week Because He is Resting at Home — PLEASE RETWEET, Episode 12
youtube
Entertainment: 5
Education: 0
Exaltation: 5
Hotness: +1
Total Score: 11
I know I’m breaking a rule I set for myself a few paragraphs earlier by including an episode of Please Retweet, which counts as a video series, but this is my post and I can do whatever I want. More importantly, this video is so fucking funny to me, it feels like it would be a crime not to put it in this list.
Solid 5 out of 5 for entertainment. Pat Gill, alone in his apartment, drinking six cans of what I think is beer silently while the intro music plays. That scene in itself should win an Oscar. Sadly, a solid 0 for Education, because I learn nothing in this video except for the fact that Pat Gill is the type of person to put out a coaster and then just completely not use it. I quantify things as educational if I can maybe answer a trivia question with them, and unfortunately, this fact does not pass that test. In terms of Exaltation, seeing Pat Gill lie down on the floor next to his cat made me get out of bed to do the same with my dog, and with myself thusly out of my bed cocoon of sadness, I was able to actually complete tasks on the day I watched this video. Perfect 5.
BONUS: Pat is +1 hot in this because there’s something very beautiful about him being a little bit miserable. However, I do miss his beard when I watch this video. It is one of my favorite things about him, and it is not present here.
3. Pat and Simone Play Human: Fall Flat
youtube
Entertainment: 5
Education: 1
Exaltation: 5
Hotness: 0
Total Score: 11
I very much enjoy Polygon’s gameplay streams. I often play them in the background while I’m doing other stuff like doodling or origami, but this stream is special. It is special because of the moment at 24:00 when Pat Gill, in game, swings a stereo into a glass window, shattering it, while saying, “Actually, y’know what? Let’s talk about trauma.” and then proceeds to tell a horrible and embarrassing story from his childhood where he had to do a rap about Ancient Egypt.
5 points for Entertainment. This is partly because of Pat’s tragic childhood story about the Egypt Rap (and, segue just to point out 33:22 the incredible moment where you can hear Pat’s feral panic when Simone finds the lyrics to the Egypt Rap) but also because Pat and Simone just talking to each other is so deeply entertaining to me in a very comfy way. I’m starved for human interaction, in this quarantime, okay. Let me enjoy listening to other people have conversations while playing video games. Education scores a 1 because, again, nothing in this video will let me answer a trivia question, however it does get 1 point and not a 0 because the Egypt Rap’s lyrics are in the comments and I did end up learning stuff about Ancient Egypt that I didn’t know. A perfect 5 for Exaltation because this video showed me that talking about trauma can actually be cathartic, given that you’re trashing a video game living room at the same time, and I think that message of not bottling up your experiences really helped me, in these trying times.
BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for the entirety of this episode, so he scores the standard 0. I’m sure he was hot. We just couldn’t see him.
2. Why Bloodborne and Muppets are the same thing
youtube
Entertainment: 4
Education: 4
Exaltation: 3
Hotness: +2
Total Score: 12
Ah yes, one of Pat’s “x is y because of z” videos. He’s made a number of these and they’re all very good but this one is my favorite among them and earns a spot on this list because 1) I think puppets are cool and 2) I fucking love monsters.
This video scores a 4 on Entertainment, just shy of perfect, because as funny as it is, it also gives me the vibe like I am being lectured by a professor who’s just a little bit off the shits. And we all know that lectures are supposed to be taken seriously. Which brings us to Education, which also scores a 4. I learned a lot in this video! Watching Pat Gill explain to me that children’s puppets and these horrifying viddy game monsters use the same character principles in different ways is not only very educational but is also explained in a streamline and easy to understand manner that I WISH some of the shitty professors at my old university could emulate. As for Exaltation, while this video did give me enough energy to have a meal, I did eventually end up back in bed for the night at 8pm crying myself to sleep, thinking “I’m like the slime scholar. Used to be a scholar. Now they’re slime.”
BONUS: Pat Gill is +2 hot here. He’s rockin that basic ass monochromatic aesthetic and I love his look dearly.
1. Preparing for Big Boy Season in Red Dead Redemption 2
youtube
Entertainment: 5
Education: 3
Exaltation: 5
Hotness: +3
Total Score: 16
Here we are. My favorite non video series Pat Gill video. The video where Pat Gill tries to make Red Dead Redemption 2 protagonist, Arthur Morgan, large.
Perfect fucking 5 for Entertainment, which I’m sure many may find odd. Afterall, this video is told in a serious investigative tone reminiscent of Vox’s videos on current issues. But that’s the glory of it. The complete and utter ‘playing it straight and serious’ for a ridiculous issue in a video game. It is high tier comedy in a subtle, understated way that sings to my comedy loving heart in a melody so lovely, so wonderful, that it urged me to give this video 5 points for Entertainment. It scores 3 on Education, because I have never played Red Dead Redemption 2, nor will I ever, but now I know things about it. The information was also relayed to me in a very interesting style, via something like a crime procedural, and thus it was engaging for me to absorb all this new knowledge. Exaltation scores a perfect 5 because of this video’s beautiful end about existential smallness. No joke, but hearing Pat Gill say “Our bigness isn’t measured in pounds, but in the impact we have on the people with whom we shared the world.” deadass made me want to talk to my friends again after conversationally isolating myself for 3 days. Preparing for Big Boy Season has a special place in my heart. And there it will stay.
BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for most of the video but he does appear for like 15 seconds in the middle of it, and guess what. He’s hot. +3 hotness. Good beardage, good hair, all in all, good Pat Gill.
So there you have it. My five favorite Pat Gill videos. If you read this whole thing, holy shit. You’re welcome, I guess.
#this is what im using my degree in creative writing for i guess#polygon#pat gill#pat gill thirst jail#patrick gill#nobody asked but
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drinking games - JJ Maybank
word count: 1598
warnings: this bitch is all angst i'm sorry just in my feels lmao, an incredible amount of drinking like i'm surprised there's no alcohol poisoning, mentions of assault, implied smut, you know you know, i think that's all?
summary: reader likes jj, but he manipulates her feelings for him to get her to be a part of his drinking games. the pogues are a little older in this maybe eighteen or around there.
a/n: this is another song based oneeee. it followed the song drinking games by silver sphere and it's a beautiful song truly gets me deeper into my feels. 10/10 would recommend listening to the song. i haven't included the lyrics in between paragraphs in this, but it follows the song pretty closely if you listen to it :) her voice literally sounds like a cloud i'm not kidding. sorry if this is bad i'm just sad rn. also, babes, if he manipulates you, he's not the one. know your worth bbys, xx
The Boneyard was the place to throw a kegger, it was common knowledge--almost as common as your thing for JJ Maybank who was, quite honestly, your bestest friend. But back to the kegger. You were a few drinks in and your lazy dancing with Kiara and Sarah ( which mainly consisted of you three jokingly throwing it back to make the boys jealous ) drifted around the beach. Separating from the Pogues, you were jumping up and down to the loud, bass, synthesized beat blaring from a speaker somewhere. As you swayed your hips and pumped your fists, you found yourself near a group of Kooks who were eyeing you up and down--not that you took particular notice or care.
JJ noticed though. The golden haired adrenaline junkie watched you with a sour expression as you spoke a light conversation with a certain Kook he had gotten into a scrap with before, but, then again, hadn’t he gotten into one scrap or another with all of them? You giggled as the Kook complimented how your eyes sparkled when you smiled. JJ knew that giggle. That giggle was supposed to be his.
So, he walks up to you and forcefully takes you away from the Boneyard. The two of you end up in the beat up, old Volkswagen van that was more of a forewarning for law enforcement that the Pogues were coming.
JJ had no idea what came over him. Maybe it was the intense jealousy he felt when he watched you dance closer to the Kook than you ever had with him. Maybe it was because he went home last night and resurfaced that morning with a split lip and bruises spiraling underneath his muscle tees. Whatever it was, a tear slipped from his constantly full eyes.
“J…” You whispered, taking his hand in yours. Rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb lovingly, the water he built up like a dam finally broke, overflowing and spilling down his cheeks. Your comforting touch was something so new, his father was the farthest from loving and to the Pogues he was just one of the boys. But, you. You were so gentle it infuriated him as much as it brought him to you like a moth to a fluorescent light.
As you whisper sweet words to him, he grabs you and hold you in his arms, his forehead falling to rest against your exposed shoulder. You reciprocate the hug, your heartstrings tugging painfully each time JJ sobs, his ribcage shaking against your chest as you tighten your grip around his back.
He doesn’t say a word about it. A simple, “I’m okay. Love you, Y/N.”
That was all you got as he opened the door to the van and stepped out, jogging back to the party without even waiting for you. You didn’t necessarily mind, though. A soft smile fought its way across your lips as you bit it back via trapping your bottom lip between your teeth. Telling the Pogues that you love them was normal for you, you did it constantly. Life wasn’t the best for you, but the Pogues made it worthwhile. You truly loved all of them, but usually it was just Kie, Sarah, and occasionally Pope throwing a “love you, too” over their shoulders back.
JJ's in the mood to drink and forget. Forget what just happened in the van. Forget that he haphazardly told you he loved you. Forget that his skin crawled with jealousy when you saw you dance with a Kook. You watched from the sidelines, gently nursing a red solo cup filled with golden beer as he laughed and partied with your friends. He catches your eye and it's something different than in the car. it's purely platonic, almost nonchalantly acknowledging your existence.
All you want is for him to feel comfortable enough with you to tell you when he isn't okay. Everyone isn't okay once in a while and that is perfectly okay. But, you get too attached to the things he says--he says he's great, better than before, he loves you ( with an unspecified emotion ). He knows you don't live in the best neighborhood--your next door neighbors is Barry, a well known basehead that sells coke, more specifically: sells to JJ’s dad. But that night, JJ doesn't care if you get home safe. He says that he loves you and you're perfectly strong enough to get home on your own when you walk up to him, tugging on the fringe of the cutoff of his muscle tee.
He doesn’t care because you're just another player in his Boneyard drinking games.
You start the trek back down the dirt roads of your neighborhood, chock full of druggies and trailers--a dangerous combination. Walking up towards your door, a tall blond man which you instantly recognize as Luke Maybank exits the dilapidated shack next to your small home. He doesn’t pay attention to anything around him, but Barry walks out behind him who instantly spots you. You’re his favorite subject of torment. Barry is a Sicilian who would make a perfect mob boss if he got away from dealing cocaine to broke people looking for a quick high.
The second he calls out, “if it isn’t the pogue princess,” you speed up, wanting to get to the old Toyota in front of your well kept little shack. You were quick on your feet, but Barry was quicker--especially if he had just done a line. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against your car, his foul breath panting in your face and his menacing eyes staring you down. You had no energy or fire to fight back, you just let him dig his nails into your shoulders and kick your shins.
Until Kie and Pope came running down the road to find you. JJ always walked you home if you didn’t catch a ride, but they saw him and not you, so they wanted to make sure you were okay. They pulled Barry off you and nudged you forward, back in the direction of John B’s house. Kie had interlocked your elbows and started to talk about a new environmental initiative she was thinking of working on.
At the Chateau, you sat on the pullout couch next to Sarah as she put Neosporin on the freshly bleeding crescent moons on your shoulders. You chased after JJ a little bit in your time as a Pogue. Everyone knows you are in love with him, even JJ, but you know you won't ever be his girl. As you’re starting to get your mind off of him, he stumbles into the Chateau with another girl. They make their way through the group of Pogues giving them dirty looks to the guest bedroom, not breaking their lips apart as they travel. He doesn't even look at you, as if that wasn't you two the night before in your own house.
You run out of the Chateau, Sarah and Kie right behind you. You cry, throw pillows around the porch, but then you finally break. Pausing your emotional outburst, you sink down to sit on the steps, you back leaning against the stabilizing wooden post.
“I’m better than this,” You mumble, receiving aggressive nods from the girls who had taken seats beside you, gently playing with your hair to help calm you down. You are better than this because you know JJ is just going to tell you that you two should forget whatever happened in the van the next morning when you're sober. If that was you instead of whatever girl he brought to John B’s, he would tell you that he cares about you, but he was drunk.
…
You see his eyes when they glaze over when someone mentions “worth” or calls someone else a piece of shit--you see it, but you just get too attached, too reliant on his words of reassurance. As much as you care and he pretends to, he doesn't care if you get home safely because, at the end of the day, you are just another player in his drinking games.
The next night, you and the Pogues are sitting in a circle, a ring of shot glass in the middle. You take turns taking shots and playing truth or dare, getting so drunk JJ’s belches have more depth perception than you do. That night, he’s back to you, pulling you into the guest bedroom while Pope and Kie clean up outside and Sarah and John B are otherwise occupied in his bedroom.
The next morning you wake up to the sun shining on his golden blond hair and the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. You brush some of his shimmering locks of hair out of his eyes, gently shaking him awake. JJ mumbles something incoherent as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Once his ocean eyes train on you and his calm expression falls.
“Y/N, I care about you, but sleeping with you was a mistake.”
You two are sober from each other now, and another piece of your glass heart breaks off and your glass shards are limited until your heart is broken.
But, then, that night as you push your dinner around your paper plate with distaste, he calls you and says "hey, cutie,” asking if you're going to come over and drink with the Pogues. And it happens over and over again because you get attached to the loving things he says when he's half passed out from beer and you're just another player in his drinking games.
#rudy pankow#jj maybank x reader#jj#obx#outer banks#jj maybank#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fic#outer banks fic#outer banks imagine
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written for the mafia/brothel au by @new-endings
@ new-endings, Your au was amazing and everything I didn’t know I wanted, but I couldn’t handle the angst....i’m sorry
* there’s slight nsfw in one paragraph
---
It’s just business, dear.
The words felt amplified while Crowley stood there silent, face blank behind dark glasses. His hands were clenched tight around the lead pipe, turning his knuckles white. Specks of blood were splattered across his sharp chin, his angled cheeks, and high above his brow. The sight alone would’ve made anyone run for the door, but the only thing Aziraphale feared was him leaving his life again.
The years without him were monotone and silent. Filled with bittersweet memories that made him ache while drowning out plaguing thoughts with a bottle of wine most nights. How have you changed? Are you taking care of yourself? Is your hair still streaming down your shoulders? Did you find someone who makes you happy as much as you made me?
It grew bearable when the brothel came into his possession, and he assumed the role of Master. Between taking care of his partners, building clientele, and managing the brothel’s reputation, his mind had no time to wander. Routine took the place of disappointment, and the number of years he spent without Crowley outgrew the ones with him. Even in the quiet moments of his days where loneliness waited, it was easier.
It was what he was used to.
Until Crowley sauntered back into his life, handsome as ever, and propositioned him in his office as if there wasn’t a mountain of distance between them. They agreed it would just be that one time. So Aziraphale allowed himself to revel in the pleasure Crowley gave him that far exceeded any fantasies he had. All the while servicing him in return that Crowley enthusiastically enjoyed despite his lacking experience.
It was meant to be a heated memory he would survive on in his empty bed, but his old friend didn’t share the same sentiments.
After that night Crowley never failed in visiting the brothel every week, only asking for Aziraphale, paying more or the same but never less for a night with him. It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to look forward to his visits with heat curling in his belly, wondering how Crowley was going to make him cum this time. Will his serpentine tongue lick into him, mouth kissing his hole while fingers were wrapped around his cock? Maybe rough hands will bend his legs back above his head and pound into him with a snarl. Or will Aziraphale get to chock on his cock with his hair being pulled and guided into bucking hips? Moaning angel until he cums down his throat.
It was all different variations of him wrapped around Crowley’s cock, but the end was always the same. Gently being cleaned up and having arms wrapped around him while they laid in his bed. Gold eyes filled with fondness as he listened to Aziraphale talk about his week. Grinning when he laughed from the stories of Crowley’s rancid coworkers, kissing him long and slow before they both fell asleep. Waking up alone each time disappointed and angry for forgetting.
A fuck is a fuck and love has no business here.
“How much for a contract with you?”
Aziraphale blinked, snapping out his thoughts, “I beg your pardon?” He asked because it almost sounded like he wanted to form a contract with him.
A few clients had favorites among his partners. They didn’t want to share them outside of their time together, so they formed a monthly renewable contract. It was incredibly expensive and had additional rules meant to protect his partners that many clients didn’t think was worth the expense. Currently, there were only two active contracts, and only one of them planned to renew.
“You said it was only business,” Crowley clenched his jaw and threw the bloodied pipe next to Gabriel's head. “So how much will it be for you to be mine alone?” He growled and crowded him against his desk.
Aziraphale found it hard to focus with Crowley towering over him, his expensive cologne distracting him along with a stray red curl that dangled on his forehead. He looked down at his shoes and placed his hands in his pockets, toying with the inner seam hoping Crowley would give up and leave.
He did not leave. He offered a price that would comfortably retire two of his partners in their early thirties for the rest of their lives. It was an offer that was too generous and incredibly idiotic.
If the other brothels ever knew the details between him and Crowley, they would be jealous of not having such a client. They would say he had it easy and call him foolish for even hesitating at the offer.
Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with wide eyes and blurted, “there is no else!”
Crowley froze, and he took the opportunity to move away from him to hide behind his desk, separating them. Giving him enough space to breathe while Crowley looked at him warily.
“Before and after you, there was and will be no else,” Aziraphale swallowed. “So, there’s no need to o-offer such a ridiculous amount.” His hands reached for random papers and shuffled them around. “In fact, I think we should end our transaction. It already brought trouble here by sending out the wrong message. I will have n-no more of it!” His voice trembled, and he accidently knocked over his mug. Cold tea spilled over the edge of his desk and dripped to the floor.
He heard a clack and saw Crowley’s glasses upside down next to his pen. He looked up nervously and saw the same look Crowley always gave him before bedding him. His heart fluttered, and he couldn’t help the way his breath hitched when Crowley’s arms braced him against the desk, trapping him.
Aziraphale turned his head and closed his eyes when he felt them water. Not only did he fail in lying to himself that this meant nothing, but he turned something simple into a mess. Now how was he going to clean this up? What was he supposed to do now that his heart grew three sizes too big since Crowley came back into his life? It felt heavy and warm with every smirk, laugh, and touch he gave him. How long will it be until his heart shrivels back down cracked and smaller than it was before when Crowley inevitable leaves again.
“Why,” Crowley asked softly.
Someone else could give your money’s worth, he could say, and direct him to any of his partners for the hundredth time. He could pretend to be oblivious. Delay this dooming conversation until another distraction or when Crowley would reluctantly leave when he had other matters to attend. But there was a corpse on his floor. And he was tired.
“Why does it matter?” Aziraphale sighed and flinched when he felt fingers brush against his cheek. A rough palm cupped his cheek and guided his face back to Crowley’s. His eyes flew open when he felt his forehead rest against his. Gold eyes were filled with a strange vulnerability he hadn’t seen since Crowley left with a goodbye all those years ago.
“Angel.” Crowley swallowed. His voice low and soft, “you’re everything to me. Always was, and I’d rather be alone than be with anyone else that isn’t you.”
His eyes widened as he stared at Crowley who patiently waited. Warmth bubbled in his chest, and he dared to hope that maybe his love wasn’t unrequited after all. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was afraid.
He left before what’s stopping him from leaving again, his mind cautioned, it would be worse this time. You already gave him your body, how will you recover from giving up your heart to him too?
But he came back, his heart opened up, with his heart on a platter for you. What more are you asking for?
“I love you,” Aziraphale breathed and watched gold eyes lit up while a broad smile broke out on Crowley’s face. He licked his lips and felt a small thrill when Crowley’s eyes flickered down at his mouth. “My dear, I-I loved you then and I love you now.”
An arm went behind his waist and pulled him against Crowley, whose other hand tangled itself in white curls and pressed a short, chaste kiss on his lips. He pressed another kiss, long and slow but sweeter until their teeth clacked from smiling.
“No more separations. No more transactions. No contracts.” Crowley’s hands cupped his face, holding him as if he was something precious. “Let me take you to dinner, angel. I know a place that serves twenty-three variety of crepes.”
Aziraphale beamed and threw his arms around Crowley’s neck before kissing him once more.
---
-i was goina write a scene where Madam Tracy goes looking for Aziraphale only to find him in his office making out with Crowley while Gabriel’s dead body keeps bleeding on his rug but i got lazy
- I did not do any research on brothel’s so i’m not sure if they actually do something like contracts i got the idea from Harlots when one of the worker’s was paid to be a mistress (i think? it’s been a while since I’ve seen the show)
- @ new-endings I don’t think this was the direction you were going for with this au, but I hope you enjoyed reading it! Thank you again for the fic idea that haunted me in the best way possible!!
#good omens#ineffable husbands#crowley x aziraphale#tw: prostitution#tw: murder#top crowley#bottom aziraphale#possessive crowley#au
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