#those first two are rather amusing to me when you put them side by side like that

[heartpascal]

can we get more father figure joel? You know when Ellie killed the David, and then Joel comforted her? Maybe that but instead of Ellie it’s the reader, thank you <3

i am good

▹ joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: joel finally sees the darkness in himself reflected in you.

▹ — a/n: ok first request i hope it’s ok!! i know its kinda similar to the game but erm. its reader and joel this time!! and reader is much much less ok with the whole. murder thing but its ok bc joel is there to fix it &lt;3 yes he is your dad no you don’t get a choice he has decided it

▹ — warnings: allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens but the intention was there), vivid descriptions of murder, reader is misled and attacked, similar to the game with ellie (so kinda spoilers?), joel is ready to kill for you (and does), lots of blood, tears, father figure joel, lots of angst and upset, vomiting

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Getting air into your lungs was proving to be one of the hardest things you’d had to do for a long time, which, considering the journey you’d been on, was shocking. The act of simply breathing should have come easily to you, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. Not as you saw the reflection of your own bloodied face in the knife that was held up, a clear threat polluting the air.

You knew you had probably been lucky to even make it as far as you had — born into a world full of death and chaos and infection, you were bound to meet your gruesome end some day, but you didn’t want to die.

For the first time in a long time, your chest ached for the breath you couldn’t seem to provide, the want, the need to live almost suffocating you on its own. You had someone now, someone who cared whether you survived or not, who felt like you deserved even a glimpse at a happy ending, even if he didn’t like to state those things out loud.

Resentment was growing in your stomach, filling you with the need to be sick. Why did you always have to listen to the words Joel didn’t say, rather than the ones he did say? If you had just listened, conserved your trust for those who actually earned it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

When your hunting escapades had led you into a small horde of infected, you had just blindly put your faith in the aging couple who came to your aid, not thinking of what they might want for their troubles. You’d never had to escape without Joel’s help before, and you quickly discovered you weren’t all that good at it.

The two of them had dragged you back to their nearby settlement which they shared with a couple dozen others, all whilst you were kicking and screaming, trying to get away, your resolve fading each time they hit you to near unconsciousness. When they passed by a young man stood beside an older lady, you had called out to them, “Please, help me, please.”

“Gotta get something in return for the gear we wasted saving her ass,” the man had snickered to the two of them as glanced at the couple, just nodding at his words before turning back to their conversation.

You’d been knocked out when they approached a large community house, just getting a glimpse of the carpeted floor before the woman had struck her gun against the side of your head.

You had woken up in the middle of a chilled room, your arms straining with effort as you pushed yourself to sit up, seeing the woman holding a knife towards you. You couldn’t be sure how long it had been since they’d taken you, not with the way your stomach clenched with pain. The whole reason you’d been out there was to solve that, but you were sure that it had gotten worse.

“Listen, please,” your scratchy voice came out, much quieter than you had meant for it to be, “I—I can get you replacements for everything you used, but you gotta let me go.”

“We don’t gotta do anything, girl.” The lady snickered, as if even you saying such a thing was amusing. It made you feel small, powerless.

She got up, hearing her name being called, Cheryl, you noted, and sneered at you. Her skin was dull, and she looked vaguely ill, but that didn’t change anything about her threatening demeanour. At least one thing you’d taken from travelling with Joel was never underestimate your opponent, no matter how small, or ill, or kind they may appear to be.

Her hand grazed your face as she strode past, “Yeah,” she said quietly, like she was complimenting you, “You’ll do nicely. We’ll both enjoy you.”

You managed to avoid throwing up until she left the room, hearing a lock click into place. All that came up was bile, the clench of your stomach just becoming sharper afterwards. Your muscles felt weak, likely beginning to waste away with you having been inactive for a little while and injured, less energy wasted on muscle cells and more going into fighting off the infections that were likely trying to poison your blood.

Scanning the room, like Joel would’ve advised you to, you found nothing of much use to you. An old rickety chair, perhaps, but that would only help you if you could lift it, and you weren’t convinced you had the strength left within you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

Something deep in your chest nagged at you, the longing for Joel, probably. He had saved you on countless occasions, and you could only hope that it had been long enough that he had finally gotten worried. It seemed likely, he really did worry a lot for a man who wasn’t meant to care, but then there was the factor of him finding you, managing to take down all the people in the settlement that might fight to protect each other and—

You took a deep breath, finally feeling your lungs expand and take in some oxygen, and pulled yourself from the ground, keeping the bile that threatened to rise down as the nausea hit you.

The chair was lighter than you expected it to be, the insides of the wooden frame likely rotten away, and you managed to pull it towards the door, waiting beside it with shallow breaths. When the lock finally began to click open, you raised the lightweight chair as high as you could, and smacked it down against the person who entered the room. Splinters flew from it as it impacted, and you heard the clatter of metal as a tray they carried hit the ground with them.

Food, maybe, to keep you alive for… whatever it was that they had planned for you, you reasoned, but didn’t look to check. Instead, you grabbed a mostly-intact leg of the chair that caused splinters to dig into your palm, and stepped over the body of the man who had taken you, exiting quickly.

Footsteps hurried you, and you ducked behind a booth as they approached the room you were being kept in. There were lanterns lit all around the room, giving it a warm look that greatly contrasted the cold air and feel it had.

“Shit!” Cheryl cursed, and you saw her bend down to check on the man from over the top of your booth. A radio crackled though the air, before, “Lewis is down, the girl’s out. Anybody got eyes?”

Your fingers shook and you gripped on to the booth to stop them, hearing the distorted reply of whoever was on the other end of the radio, “She ain’t got out, yet, she’s gotta be in there with you. You need backup?”

“No,” Cheryl replied, her cold voice sending shivers down your back, “I’ve got her.”

The drag of Lewis’ clothes against the floor made you peak your head up, seeing her drag him into the room, before she exited and locked him inside. You ducked back down, heart hammering. You couldn’t escape from them in an open forest — how would you get out of a locked down building?

“Come on out, kid. It’s okay, you just gotta start behaving yourself.” She called, her slow footsteps failing to mask the sound of her unsheathing her knife. It wasn’t okay, it was very far from okay, you would argue, and you could feel that crushing fear of death pushing down on your shoulders, your chest constricting once again.

You tried to reassure yourself — you had faced countless amounts of infected and come out on the other side, what was one woman with very bad intentions? But it didn’t make you feel better, not when it was another human, who could feel exactly what you felt.

Her footsteps approached, and you leaped from where you were in the booth, trying to run as far away from her as fast as you could, but she caught up to you with surprising ease, your muscles clearly weaker than initially thought, and she grasped the back of your shirt, pulling you to a stop as you fell to the ground.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You cried out as she knelt down, one knee beside you and another pressing against your stomach, knife approaching your throat as soon as she settled you firmly against the carpet. It was red.

“You could’ve made this real easy for all of us,” she muttered your name, and you froze, having forgotten the way you’d yelled it out to them in the midst of the battle. “Be a good girl, now.”

You heard gunfire outside, and when her face glanced toward the guarded front door, you twisted underneath her, pushing yourself away to find enough room to kick the knee against the floor out from under her. She fell, her chin hitting the ground with a satisfying crack, and when she cried out, anger overcame you.

“You were gonna hurt me,” You said aloud, almost as if it was a realisation, rather than just fact. Your eyes hardened, gaze going red as you snatched the knife from her weakened grip. She reached out to try and snatch it back, but only got the drops of your blood that fell from the blade as you held onto it, twisting it until you finally held the handle. “Why— why were you going to hurt me?”

Her response didn’t filter through your ears, and the rage at how easily she and Lewis were going to do it pulsed, making your vision go blurry. When she sat up, tumbling forward to take you down again, you swiped her own knife until you felt the drag of something resisting it, and then you pulled harder, feeling something warm gushing down your hand.

Cheryl’s breath stuttered slightly, her hands rising to her chest as she groaned in pain. You looked down to your hands, where they were coated in a red that was darker than the carpet below them, and you were so lost that you didn’t notice her hand coming below yours, hitting it so hard that the knife went flying to the other end of the carpet.

Like a reflex, your fists came down on her face, feeling the shift of bones beneath your knuckles as they shattered upon contact. You didn’t stop, too wrapped up in the fact that you didn’t want to die, that she was going to hurt you, to kill you when she was done, she was going to tear you apart and throw away the pieces, she was going to take away what little humanity had left, she—

Arms pulled you away from the body beneath you, arms much stronger than your own, and you screamed, yelled out with your broken voice, “I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you, get off of me! I’ll kill you!”

The person shushed you, only holding tighter as you thrashed, turning away from Cheryl where she… wasn’t breathing. You stopped, tense muscles in your body going slack and burning as you stared at her, at her body, lifeless and covered in blood.

“Kid, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” said the person holding you— said Joel. Your hands dropped from where you had scratched his forearm, his arm covered in blood — though whether it was his, or Cheryl’s, or yours, you didn’t know.

He loosened his grip on you, eyebrows creased in concern as your entire body slipped when he moved his arms away, as if you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

“No… she— it wasn’t, I didn’t—” you trailed off, unsure of what to say, the words dead on your tongue, because you didn’t what? Didn't mean to kill her?

Joel followed your blank eyes to the body he’d pulled you from, and he turned your head towards him quickly, eyes hard. “No.” He said, and at your somewhat confused expression, he continued, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Joel, I—”

“No,” he repeated, and pulled your head towards him, keeping you looking away from Cheryl as a gunshot rang through the room, echoing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t hear Joel at first, as he held up the smoking gun for you to see, “—killed her, see? I killed her.”

“They were going… they wanted to—” You choked on the words, feeling that bile come creeping back up your throat, and you lurched away from Joel as it came out, feeling him pull your hair back from your face.

Something in his eyes settled, however, at the choice of word you’d used — they. So this body wasn’t the only one in here? His question was answered by a bang at a door on the other side, the way your entire body flinched at the sound.

The door splintered, and a battered man came tumbling out, hurrying over to where he could see people crowded. His face went red, and he began to shout, “You fucking bitch—!”

Joel shot one between the eyes, and the man crumpled before he could get anything else out. He turned back to you, to where you were hunched in on yourself. He shoved his gun back in its rightful place, and held your cheeks between his hands, gunpowder residue transferring to your skin.

“Do you hear me?” His muted voice said, and you looked up to his face with a confused shake of your head, “It was you or them, and the only answer is you.”

“But, Joel,” you were interrupted, and he wiped the underneath of your eye of a tear that you hadn’t even known had fallen.

“No. You listen to me, remember?” Joel affirmed, and you nodded, the tears falling more now that you’d acknowledged them, your hands shaking as you tried to look past Joel, but he just pulled your face back to him. “I’ve got you, kid. Keep your eyes on me.”

You turned your face into his neck as you all but threw yourself into his arms, and they wrapped around you like they’d been waiting to do so. You missed his pained expression at the words, and the way heartache burrowed in his chest as he stood the two of you up, his knees clicking.

He swept you up, as if you were the smallest and lightest thing he’d carried in years, and he carried you away, your eyes staying glued to him as the two of you left behind the carnage he’d caused in looking for you.

[chickenlizard13]

Let Me See

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 4742

Warnings: Fluff, Mature 18+ (get outta here you kids)

Description: I’m really just doing whatever I want at this point. Can be read as a sequel to All You’ve Done, but can also be read as a standalone. Prequel to Stay Right Here.

Holding the box in your lap, you bounce your knees impatiently, awaiting Ominis’s return. You sat on the couch, fearing he’d take the gift as an insult, rather than the assistance it was meant to be. 

Grabbing your journal from the side table, you read the incantation again, and again, and again, knowing it by heart but still afraid you’d make a mistake. It was getting late, a heavy rainstorm obscuring the front gate of the property, making you all the more anxious. Ominis was always punctual, if not early, so it concerned you that he still hadn’t walked through the front door. 

Taking a few calming breaths, you reminded yourself that Ominis was incredibly capable, more so than you at times, so it wouldn’t do to sit around worrying. 

Standing up, you gingerly place the box on the couch, heading into the kitchen to make tea. Ominis would certainly appreciate a hot cup after the cold storm. You’d just put the pot on the flames, when two freezing hands appeared on your hips. Yelping, you turn around to an absolutely soaked Ominis, grinning down at you mischievously.

“Hello, darling.”  

“Ominis! I don’t understand how you keep doing this. Why is it, I can level an entire poacher camp alone, but I never hear you sneaking up behind me?” His grin widened as he took a step towards you, the puddle forming at his feet growing larger.

“It’s not my fault you keep letting your guard down. Perhaps you’ve become rusty?” 

Scoffing, a drop from his wet hair lands directly on your forehead, startling you. “My love, go change. Those clothes can’t be comfortable.” 

You try to move out of his grasp, but find yourself being tugged back, your hands landing on soaked biceps. 

“I’m actually quite comfortable right here.”

Water continues to drip on you from his hair as you squirm, laughing in his arms, his smile becoming more maniacal the longer you struggle. “Ominis! Release me you scoundrel, you’re soaked! Go dry off!” 

Instead, he hauls your body right up against him, shoving his face into the crook of your neck. You again squeal at him to let go, but he refuses to budge. 

Finally he raises his face, kissing you sweetly on the lips, before pulling away slightly. You gaze up at him in annoyance, grimacing. “I’m wet.”

He chuckles playfully, humming as he kisses you again and whispers against your lips. “You will be.” 

Blushing, you smack him on the arm and he steals one last kiss before releasing you to change, laughing the whole way up the stairs. 

You look down at yourself, now also soaked, and shake your head, a small amused smile gracing your lips. Grabbing your wand, you dry yourself off and clean up the water Ominis had tracked into the kitchen. 

The house had once belonged to Professor Fig, and was passed to you upon his death. It sat isolated on a high cliff, overlooking the ocean. Wildflowers bloomed in the yard, their stalks shaking wildly as Ominis’s ever growing cat colony chased each other through the grass. 

You’d moved in immediately after seventh year, not having another place to go, and not wanting to return to the muggle world. Ominis had returned to the Gaunt estate at first, but showed up at your doorstep in hysterics late one night, cursing his family name and the marriage they’d tried to force on him. You’d ushered him through the door, and he never walked back out. 

It’d been several years since then, and every day you were grateful to have him. At times, you had to stop and steady yourself, awed by the love he bestowed on you constantly. You thought it a crime that his family attempted to rob him of his gentle soul, and you swore to pay them back tenfold if they ever tried again. 

The tea pot whistled loudly, drawing you out of your thoughts. Grabbing two cups, you bring the tea out to the living room, startling slightly when you see Ominis standing by the couch, back to you. 

He’d changed into dry comfortable clothes, turning around when he heard you enter. In one hand he held the box you’d set on the couch, in the other, he held the contents of said box. 

“Darling, this was on the sofa. Is it yours?” You set the tea down on a table and walk over to him.

“It’s yours actually.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “A scarf? I have plenty of scarves my love, something you remind me of constantly.” 

Rolling your eyes, you worm your way under his arm, hugging his side,  arms wrapping around his waist. “It’s not just any scarf, you silly man.” 

He makes a curious sound in the back of his throat as he leans his head on top of yours. “Care to enlighten me?” 

Back at Hogwarts, Natty informed you of a certain charm taught at Uagadou. The spell allowed the caster to see through the eyes of a familiar. You’d immediately thought about Ominis, that maybe he’d be interested in trying it out, but Natty said that she wasn’t sure if it’d work on someone who was already blind. Thus, began the long journey of trial and error, often forcing Sebastian to play guinea pig with a blindfold. 

Once you were sure you’d perfected the charm for your purposes, you’d gotten to work on the familiar part. Natty was very specific, stating that the caster and familiar had to have a deep connection, and Ominis wasn’t overly fond of most beasts. He loved the cats of course, but you wouldn’t say there was one he favored in particular. 

Then the thought came to you, perhaps if you made something yourself, and then transfigured it into an animal, your connection with Ominis would translate over. Honestly, you’d have probably been able to show him sooner, if learning to knit hadn’t taken so long. 

Now though, everything was finally ready. Ominis held a cream colored scarf in his hand, both of your initials embroidered in the corner. “Why don’t you sit down, my love.” 

Ominis cocks his brow at you, but obeys, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. You sit and take his unoccupied hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“So, I’ve been working on something, for you, for quite a long time now, and I think it’s finally ready.” 

His thumb swept back and forth across your hand, body turned towards you attentively. “The scarf? You made it?” 

Nodding, you continue your explanation. “That’s not all. I- There’s a spell that would allow someone to use a familiar to…see.” 

You felt his fingers tighten on yours as his brows furrowed. “But I…I don’t have a familiar. How would-“

“That’s where the scarf comes in. I’m going to transfigure it.” 

Ominis breathed out, not saying anything more. You would be worried that he was cross with you, if not for the thumb still stroking lazy circles on the back of your hand. “And…you’ve been working on this? For how long?”

You pressed your lips together, unable to read his face to tell what he was feeling. “Since our seventh year.” 

Ominis sucked in a breath, his voice coming out in a whisper. “That long?” 

He clutched the scarf in his hand, holding it close to him, voice just above a whisper. “Show me.”

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, you take out your wand, and waving it over the scarf, you watch as it transfigures into a smooth white snake. You just thought he’d look so good with a snake draped over his shoulders, making such a striking image combined with his pressed jackets and manicured hair. He smirked slightly at you, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

“A snake? Really?” 

“Shut up. Are…Are you ready?” 

His face becomes serious again, hesitating only a moment before nodding his head. You took a deep breath, praying for success. He closed his eyes, squeezing your hand as you cast the spell. You were sure to be extra careful with your pronunciation, placing your wand on the table when you finished. He waited a beat before cracking an eye open, sucking in a breath and snapping it shut again. 

You reached for him, heart sinking, fearing the worst. Before your hands could get too far, he was shoving his face into your shoulder, eyes still pinched shut. “Ominis, what’s wrong? Did it not-”

“It worked. I’m just- I just need a moment.” You could feel him take calming breaths against your skin, allowing him to stay there until he was ready. Slowly, he leaned back, eyes still shut. Blinking slowly, he opened them, taking in the carpet under his feet. He studied the patterns, following the black swirls, before looking at the fireplace. The snake’s head mirrored his movements, silently showing him what he wanted. He sat mesmerized by the fire for a moment, before looking back at the carpet, the snake moving in sync. 

“What…what color is that?”

You didn’t take your eyes off him, knowing what he was asking about. “Red.”

He mouthed the word, staring for a moment more, before turning his gaze to look at you. It looked like all the air left his body as he locked eyes with you, his breath shuddering out of him. “...oh.” 

His eyes darted around your face, a stricken look on his features, mouth slightly open. You didn’t know what he meant, feeling slightly self conscious under his attention, resisting the urge to cross your arms in front of you. You’d never felt insecure in your relationship, but suddenly you worried he didn’t like what he saw, nervous it would have a negative effect on his feelings for you. 

You unintentionally shied away from his intense scrutiny, and his hand shot out to your face, chasing you. “Please don’t run.”

He swallowed, still staring at you with wide eyes. “I’m-I’m sorry, it’s just…that’s…that’s what you look like? I- How- How did you end up with…me?” 

You looked at him bewildered, his eyes drinking in the new expression. “How did I…end up with you? Ominis I- because you’re kind, and generous, and-”

“But you just look so…I don’t- I can’t articulate how-” He stopped abruptly, releasing an irritated huff at his fumbling. 

You realized that he’d never seen himself before. He didn’t know how beautiful he was. Standing suddenly, you haul him up, dragging him to the nearest mirror. The snake slithered up his arm, resting its long body around his shoulders, head turning quickly as Ominis tried to look at every object you passed. 

You lead him to a mirror hanging in the hall, stopping in front of it. “How did you end up with me? My love, take a look at yourself.” 

He turned his attention to the mirror, eyes wide. His hand came up to touch his face. “Are these…moles? I have so many.” 

Hugging one arm, you lean your head against him, watching him inspect himself. You smile lovingly, fingers running up and down his arm lightly. 

He watched in the mirror as you watched him, the look on your face striking him in the chest. Was this how you always looked at him? Even having now seen himself, he truly couldn’t fathom why you chose him. He thought he looked so plain compared to you. You were…Merlin you were beautiful. He’d known that of course, his wand giving him a vague idea of your facial structure, but it was nothing compared to this. He could see the slightest change to your expression, the color of your skin, your eyes. It was overwhelming. 

“You have to stop doing this.” 

Scrunching your brow, you shake your head at him, not understanding.

“Every time I think I can’t possibly fall more in love with you, you give me another reason. What am I supposed to do? Nothing I can give you will ever hold a candle to what you’ve given me.” 

Shaking your head, you try to object, but Ominis continues on. “I’d endure every terrible thing in my life, all of it, all over again if it meant you’d be there waiting for me.”

You turn your face away, hiding your watery eyes. He squeezes your hand, a soft smile painting his face, his voice intimate. “Thank you, my love.”

You sat together in silence for a moment longer, just basking in each other's presence. Eventually, he asks you to disenchant the snake and turn it back into a scarf, informing you that he was feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. You did as he asked, taking care to place the scarf back in the box carefully, saving it for another time. 

He held you close that night, limbs entangled, your face tucked into his neck as he combed his fingers through your hair. Basking in your warmth and replaying your image in his head. 

—————

It’d been a few days since then, the both of you sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a peaceful morning. You gazed out the window at the rising sun, sipping your coffee, lost in thought. Ominis stroked his fingers on the back of your hand idly, an enchanted book in the other hand, seemingly engrossed in the words. In reality, Ominis’s attention was elsewhere, mulling over the events of the days prior. 

He’d used the scarf a handful of times, for short periods as it was still quite overwhelming, preferring to use his wand for most things. 

However, a thought continuously ran through his mind every time he saw you. He loved seeing the little expressions that were often lost to him, treasuring each one, but as time went on his eyes would drift lower, wondering what you’d look like under your clothes. He’d trace the contours of your body, his hands lightly following the path his eyes blazed.

He wanted desperately to peel your layers off, slowly exploring your skin with his lips, wondering what color you’d turn with his mouth on you. 

What he wasn’t thrilled about, was the large snake he’d have to wrap around his shoulders, wearing it the entire time he ravaged you. He turned the thought over in his mind, pondering possible solutions, and the things you’d said about the nature of the spell itself.

“Darling, may I ask you something?”

You turned your head towards him, eyes blinking slowly as you came out of your distracted daze. “Of course, my love, anything.” 

He paused for a moment, mindlessly stroking your hand in thought. “That spell, does it only work on animals?” 

You cocked your head, to the side, considering his inquiry. “I’m…not sure. The spell specifies that a connection is required, but I don’t know if it’s strictly limited to beast companions. Why do you ask?”

Ominis hummed in thought. “Simply curious.”

 

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I’ll do some research today while you’re at work.” 

Smiling, he gently brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles lightly. “Thank you, darling.”

—————

It took a couple more days, and a brief trip to see Natty, but you think you’d done it. Ominis sat in front of you on the couch waiting patiently, a nervous buzz beneath his skin. He closed his eyes in anticipation, until he felt the now familiar feeling of the spell taking effect. 

Opening his eyes, he was startled with the image of himself sitting on the couch. It was interesting watching his own reactions, finding coordination difficult as you sat across from him. 

You watched him flail about for a moment, unsure of how to match his movements to what he was seeing. Standing, you take the seat next to him. “Better?”

He nods, and turns his face to you, disappointed when he only sees himself looking back. This wouldn’t do at all. His brows furrowed, a pout forming on his lips. “I can’t see you.” 

You chuckle and grab his hand, guiding him once more to the large mirror in the hall. Standing in front, you gesture to your reflection. “Problem solved.” 

Ominis slots himself up behind you, winding his arms around your torso as he places his chin on your shoulder, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Problem solved indeed.” 

There was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your back, but you watched him start to place light, lingering kisses on your neck. You stood there, tilting your head to give him better access, to which he groaned in appreciation, his kisses becoming a bit more forceful. 

You continued to watch him in the mirror as he worked his way up your neck, flinching when he bit your ear playfully. He laughed quietly in amusement, enjoying every expression you gave him and moved his hands to your hips, squeezing them. 

“Ominis…” Panting slightly, an aroused flush appeared high on your cheek bones, as a needy ache formed between your legs. Pleased hums reverberated against your back, Ominis’s hand traveling upward, brushing your nipple through your clothing. You jerk against him again, a second brush of his thumb pulling a small whimper from you. 

Ominis groaned as he watched you, feeling giddy and a bit clumsy, as if this were your first time all over again. He knew the contours of your body like the back of his hand, but savored every twitch and whimper as his eyes devoured you hungrily. 

He kept his gaze fixed on your face, head spinning at the furrow of your brow and half lidded eyes, lips parted slightly, breathing heavy. His hand gripped your chest fully, sucking at your neck with fervor, a breathy whine escaping his lips at your lustful expression. He detached himself from you momentarily to speak. “You’re telling me…this is what you look like when I touch you?” 

He ground his hard dick into your ass, hands tugging your hips tight against him. “I haven’t even undressed you yet, and you already look like this?” 

Reaching a hand up, you close your eyes and slam his mouth down onto yours in a passionate kiss. He moans into your mouth, disappointed he could no longer see you, but loving the desperation with which you kissed him. Twisting in his arms, you stand on your toes, winding your arms around his neck to keep him close. 

Ominis wrapped his arms around you, stroking your sides as he pushed his tongue past your lips. Suddenly, he rips himself from you, panting a demand into your mouth. “Upstairs. Now.” 

You waste no time grabbing his hand and clumsily leading him up the stairs, both of you tripping in your excitement. He kicked the door shut behind him, tugging on your hand forcefully, bringing you back into another searing kiss. He had one hand on your face and the other gripping a handful of clothing at your waist, spinning you around to push you against the door. 

His hand traveled from your waist, skimming your thigh before lifting your leg to his hip, giving him better access to grind his lower body into you. Moaning, your hands find his hair, pulling on it while you pant his name between sloppy kisses. 

“Is there a mirror in this room?” The words are growled against your mouth and it takes your brain a moment to process his question. 

“A- A  mirror? I- um, n-no I don’t- I don’t think there is.” It was hard to think with him grinding his hard cock into you, creating such delicious friction. He kissed you again, unable to stay detached for too long. 

“Then make one.”

Your legs wobbled at his demanding tone, unsure if you’d even be able to make it to your wand on the bedside table. “M-My wand…it’s oh Merlin- it’s on the table by Ominis- by my side of the bed.” 

Groaning, he tugged you from the door, lips never leaving yours as his hands caressed you every place they could reach. The both of you fumbled your way to the bed, your hand blindly searching the table for your wand, almost knocking it on the floor. 

Tearing your mouth from his momentarily, you transfigure your bureau into a huge mirror sitting on the far wall. The image of your disheveled appearance, with Ominis wrapped around you, appeared in the reflection. 

Ominis whimpered loudly, rolling his hips into you hard. “Merlin, my love, I can’t- you look so good. Did I- Did I do that to you?.”

Your eyes roll back at the awe in his voice, barely able to stand. His hands tug at your clothes with purpose, cursing under his breath. “Get these wretched things off.” 

Tearing at your clothes, you’re eager to comply, ripping the clothes from your body as he does the same. When you finish, he climbs backwards onto the bed, hands tugging you along with him. He lets his hands explore your body as he kisses you, fingers traveling lower, feeling the wetness between your legs. 

“So wet. All for me. All mine.” 

You loved when he got possessive like this, but today especially, he seemed so wild, like a beast in heat. You’re abruptly turned around, Ominis settling behind you once more. Craning your neck, you go to question him, but the words die in your mouth when you catch a glimpse of your reflection. 

All you see is your naked body on full display, Ominis hovering over your shoulder, staring at your reflection hungrily. Becoming a bit self conscious, you try to cover yourself, but your hands are immediately ripped from your body, his grip tight on your wrists. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Whimpering you try to tug your hands from him. “Ominis, it’s a bit- it’s embarras-“

“I don’t care. Let me look at you.” Growling his words directly into your ear, he releases your hands, peppering wet kisses on your shoulder. Ominis brings one hand to your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other travels lower, skimming your stomach. Your breathing picks up again as you watch it, anticipation replacing anxiety. 

His hand stops just short of where you want it, stroking the skin possessively. “Don’t even think about closing your eyes. I won’t miss a single second of you coming undone.” 

Before you could respond, his fingers plunged the rest of the way, finally where you wanted them. You automatically close your eyes as you let out a shameless whine, but immediately feel him halt his movements. “What, did I just say?” 

Forcing your eyes open, you train them on your entangled bodies in the mirror. “Good. So good.” 

He continued his movements, fingers driving you higher and higher almost tipping you over the edge, but it wasn’t enough. You start moving your hips against his hand, making sure to rub his leaking cock against your ass. His movements falter and he tucks his face against your shoulder for a moment, breathing frantic and heavy.

“Ominis, my love, I need- Merlin, I need more. Please. More.” Emphasizing your plea with the grinding of your hips, it only takes a moment before Ominis rips his fingers from you, leaning back on his heels a bit to line his aching cock up with your entrance. 

“As you wish, darling.” 

He pushes into you slowly, maintaining enough self restraint to still be gentle, knowing you’d need a moment to adjust to his size. You cried out at the full feeling, a string of whispered encouragements falling from your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but were rewarded with the sight of Ominis, completely wrecked as he shoved himself inside of you. 

Once he was fully seated, he stilled a moment just breathing, his face resting in the crook of your neck. He waited a bit longer than you would have liked, so you attempted to buck against him, trying to coax him into moving. Instead an arm clamped around your front, preventing you from moving, while the other hand came to cover your eyes. 

As you were about to ask, you felt a wetness on your shoulder, startling you. “My love, what’s wro-“ 

“I’m sorry, my darling, I just- I just need a moment.” His voice was quiet, words watery as he kept still, holding you. Tears silently ran down your back, as Ominis released shaky breaths into your skin, arm tightening around you.

“I love you. So much. It’s- Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how much I love you, and this…treasure you’ve given me is- is…my love, I can’t even begin to tell you what it means to me. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I’m sorry, but…I don’t- I don’t think I could live without you anymore.” Ominis sobbed his words into your shoulder, one of your hands clamped on his arm, and the other gripped the back of his head, trying your best to hold him in your current position. 

The tears stopped a moment later, and he lifted his head to place a few loving kisses on your lips, hand still covering your eyes. Sniffing slightly, he nudged your nose with his, whispering an apology. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment, darling.”

Laughing quietly, you card your fingers comfortingly through his hair. “No moment with you is ruined, my love.” 

You wiggle your hips a bit, reminding him of your current situation. “However, I would still like to finish, if you’re up for it.” 

Chuckling in amusement, some of the fire came back to his chest. Kissing your shoulder a few times, he moves to speak directly in your ear. “Always.” 

He starts out slow, grinding his hips into yours, trying to build your desire back up to where it had been. His hand comes off your eyes, and you immediately open them to look at your reflections. Ominis moans as your image floods his mind once more, hips starting to move faster. “So fucking pretty.” 

Shuddering at his praise, needy whines fight their way out of your throat, begging him to go faster. Obliging you, his hips snap forward at a wild pace, his chin hooked over your shoulder to keep you close. “I can’t- my love, I don’t think I can last much longer. I need you to- oh Merlin darling, I need you to cum. Please. I need it so badly.” 

Ominis trails one hand down your front and starts working you in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, struggling to keep them open. “No, no, no, my love, please keep your eyes open. I want to -fuck, I want to watch you fall apart. Please, let me. Please?” 

His thrusts get sloppy as he speeds up, fingers stroking you so perfectly. He whispers praises into your ear. Telling you how good you are for him, how much he loves you, how much he needs you, how desperately he wants you to cum. His pleading whispers hurl you over the edge and you force your eyes to stay open for him. 

He sobs at the sight of you, finishing as soon as he feels you convulse around him. Emptying himself inside you, his hips keep twitching and grinding, prolonging both of your pleasure. Lips brush your neck as he speaks praises into your skin, thanking you for staying with him, for loving him. 

The room was silent, save for your combined panting, the two of you trading comforting caresses as you come down. You allowed the spell to fade, Ominis eventually pulling himself from you to find a cloth, not needing his wand to navigate your shared home. Once he returned, he wiped you down with gentle, practiced motions, kissing your skin with an ‘I love you’ every now and then. Once he’d finished, Ominis tossed the cloth into some dark corner of the room, a problem for tomorrow. Laying down, he pulls you into his chest with a pleased sigh, kissing your forehead twice before settling. 

You’re both quiet for a long time, Ominis rubbing lazy, contemplative circles between your shoulder blades. The feel of his fingers and the beat of his heart lulling you into near sleep, only interrupted by his quiet voice. 

“Marry me.” 

Eyes closed, you smile to yourself. So demanding. 

“When?” 

“Tomorrow.”

You huff in amusement, too tired to do much more. “I’ll owl Anne and Sebastian then.”

His lips stretch into a sweet smile against your forehead.

“I already did.” 

[siddyyyyyyyy]

University Romance

Johnny 'Soap' McTavish x female!Reader

Wc: ~2 K ; part two

warnings: being kind of stressed out, 'crazy' chemistry professor Soap, no y/n used, Johnny and Reader are about the same age, the name of the university is fictional

summary: You and Johnny are two professors at a university, and he often catches you working late in your office. Also, you're just really good friends and there's probably more to it.

a/n: I don't know how I got that in my head, it's a quick drabble, but I hope I could get my idea across, even if my first language isn't english. Have fun!

Redcrest High Academy, Monday 11:21 PM

Work is fun. At least for you, and that's also what you're trying to tell yourself every time you have to stay in late. It's a pretty social workplace, getting to meet rather famous professors but also some pretty edgy students. Fortunately, you don't have to deal with the edgy kind of students since you're only a history professor. And also take part in some psychology lectures, where most of the edgy students are. Very unfortunate.

This time, it's the grading that keeps you up at work for longer than usual. Inside your office, it's no one but you and those paperlong paragraphs your students wrote about a current topic you are discussing from the previous lectures. It is already dark outside, but the small lamp on your table is working, casting a warm light onto the papers in front of you. The big light is on as well, but it never quite reaches your desk, so the small lamp is a good help.

You are about to put the grade on the essay when you hear a knock at your door, humming absentmindedly for them to come in while being focused on calculating the grade in your calculator again. Of course, it's no other than Johnny, or as his students call him, Soap, for always having crystal clear objects for experiments, having been caught cleaning those in breaks as well. He walks in and steps up to your desk, hands in pockets and studying the big pile of papers, before his eyes land on the essay in front of you. He understands quickly, nodding to himself before he clears his throat shortly to catch your attention.

»Grading, huh? At this hour?«

He questions and takes a look at his watch with an exaggerated arm motion before he puts his hand back into the pocket. You finally manage to write the grade down with some feedback on the side before glancing up to him.

»What?« You put your glasses down and check on the digital clock next to your lamp, realising it's about time you usually go to sleep normally. Johnny tilts his head at your question, a hint of concern crossing his features.

»How many essays did you grade today? Ten, twenty?«

»Eleven.«

He rolls his eyes and takes a seat at the chair in front of your desk, crossing his arms as he leans back. »You're aware it's eleven PM now, right? Lectures ended four hours ago.«

You nod in response, having had your last lecture around that time. Unfortunately for you, he is just as work consumed as you, which means he often catches you staying late or napping at your office.

»I know, I was about to pack my stuff anyway.«

He watches you in disbelief, sighing out dramatically.

»No, you weren't. Didn't even notice me come in, hypnotised by those papers.«

Johnny scoffs lightly and gestures to the essays, now being two piles of graded and ungraded work.

»I get it, you like your job, and that's great, but... c'mon, not even I am as determined as you.«

He shrugs lightly and shifts on his seat to lean back further, seemingly tired from today. You shake your head and stand off your chair, smoothing out the papers before groaning lightly from your lower back pain. As always, you stretch your arms and crack your back, the sounds of joints and bones cracking being soft but loud enough to make Johnny grimace slightly.

»Yeah, you need a break.« He nods to himself, making you huff out amused.

»Listen, I don't need you telling me what to do. I know when to take a break.«

He shakes his head at your words, disagreeing and ready to talk your ears off about the importance of rest. Before he could start, you put your hand up in the air, looking to him finally.

»And now that you're here, I'm going to pack my stuff and get outta here. And you won't say another word.«

Johnny almost interrupts you and wants to say something again before he settles on watching you while he stays in his seat. It's silent, the only sounds being the light ruffles of paper as you organise them and put them back in your bag. The glasses you left on the desk earlier are being put back on the bridge of your nose, slinging your bag around your shoulder finally. He finally speaks up, staying seated as he watches you for now.

»You're lucky I was still here, building up the experiments for tomorrow.«

You don't believe him, giving him a side long glance.

»More like cleaning those weird bowls and glasses of yours.« He's not too amused at your light jab, getting off the chair while gesturing to himself.

»I am just doing my job properly. Don't want my students to get hurt from dirty-«

»What were those loud sounds from this morning, by the way? Did you try to set this place up?«

He perks up at your question, even though you interrupted him just now. Johnny has a big grin on his face now as he gets to explain it to you, walking around your desk while he does so. You listen to him explain in full detail why he decided to do such an experiment and how he set it up, telling you how his students made the small bombs he told them to construct. It led to having built colourful mini-bombs that they just had to set off in the lecture hall. The ceiling is high enough anyway.

Johnny and some other students had some blue and yellow sticking on their clothes and faces, but it was fun, and his students know how to build mini bombs now.

»You don't think it was risky to teach them how to build literal bombs?« That's your only question you have for him now, as everything else doesn't surprise you anymore.

»No. They're studying chemistry; they would have it figured out sooner or later.« He reasons casually, which makes you agree somewhat quietly.

----

Redcrest High Academy, Tuesday 8:13 AM

You're thankful to Johnny for baically forcing you to stop working the night before, because you can already feel how tired and sore your body is after sitting and grading for so long. The lecture hall is mostly quiet as usual, something most teachers in schools would kill for, but in your case it's making you almost frustrated. Why are your students always so quiet during lectures? Do they fear you? Before you could worry any longer about them, a hand goes up from a student, seemingly wanting to ask something. »Have you graded our assignments yet, miss-« »No.«

Okay, maybe it's no wonder your students are mostly silent during your lecture, but being all bubbly and social like your favourite colleague is not easy. And forcing yourself to be more social and funny with your students will only earn you some weird or confused stares. A loud, sudden sound goes off, similar to a small explosion, making everyone jump up and look around for a moment. You hold your hand up and sigh out wearily. »It's probably Professor McTavish again. Calm down.« Not a second later and said Professor is peeking into your lecture hall with a worried expression, his lab coat seemingly less clean, him having a rather dishevelled look. »Your fire alarms didn't go off, right? Don't worry, we already put the fire out. Just checking in.«

He can't be serious.

He clicks the door shut, and the hall is silent for a brief moment before some chuckles and laughs errupt, making you smile slightly as well. You're making a mental note to ask what he was doing with his class again before focussing back on the task at hand. With that quick disturbance, the lecture continues as before.

Once lunch break begins, it's your mission to find Johnny and talk to him about the earlier disturbance. It's certainly not hard to find him; walking into his lecture hall makes it a quick find as you see him cleaning the tables and the other stuff the chemics have around. »Weak arson attempt or another experiment?« He gets surprised by your voice and presence, turning around to face you. He grows sheepish for a moment before chuckling lightly at your question. »I guess one of my students needs to study a bit more. He never gets to set up another experiment alone again.«

You are sure, you could hear some light tension in his voice while he continues to clean and scrub around. Maybe he is just focused on cleaning so much, making him seem a bit tense. In all honesty, he rarely gets mad at his students or scolds them, but it's evident this particular student had to endure some of his strict words after class. »Hm... well, at least my students got a kick out of it.«

He barks out a laugh at your words, pausing on his cleaning for a moment. »I'm sure they did. But my students were afraid for their lives there.«

This makes you shake your head subtly at how serious that sounds. But it's nothing new, just another tuesday at work. After a few more words, you retreat from the room and get to continue your own work, the day going by quickly. ----

Redcrest High Academy, Wednesday 8:43 AM

Another work day, another chaotic day for the chemistry students. The class is lively inside, talking to classmates, making jokes, and telling stories to one another before their professor walks in. It gets more calm once Professor McTavish walks in, most being curious about what they will do in this lecture. He seems to be in a good mood today, as usual, standing by the whiteboard as he explains today's lesson and shows them some diagrams over the projector.

The atmosphere is more light and exciting, the students having their first semester and enjoying themselves, not needing to face the horrors of writing essays or doing research at home for the class yet. A particular student holds his hand up, him already having the nickname 'boom box' from Johnny for being louder and more extroverted than the other students.

»Are you and the history professor something?« Johnny pauses at the question, not having expected such a question. He blinks and looks rather caught off guard by the question, making some students chuckle. »Don't get me wrong, you just seem like a married couple. You're always together and stuff.« Johnny has to literally restrain himself from thinking about you both being potentially something more than friends, acting as neutral as possible in front of his students. He gathers himself quickly, shaking his head as he holds one hand up slightly. »This is chemistry class, no? We have no time to discuss something like this.«

This earns some classic booing from his students, making him roll his eyes while he just tries to get back to the lesson and also teach them about minding their own business.

----

Redcrest High Academy, Wednesday 9:00 AM

You enter his office with two coffees in hand, each for the two of you, as you find him leaned over his desk with his back to you, looking like he is contemplating something really hard. The sight isn't new as you're walking up to him and place one cup at his desk beside him. He acknowledges it with a small nod and finally notices who you are, turning his whole body to face you.

»Did you know my students think we're married?« Silence follows afterwards, blinking at him while he takes a loud sip from his coffee. »Wow, straight to the point, huh?«

He doesn't match your sarcastic energy or finds it funny, staying serious as he stands in front of you.

»They thought we were married.« He repeats, making you narrow your eyes at him before realisation hits.

This is gonna reach the other colleagues in no time.

a/n: Wow, cliffhanger, oh my god, no one has done this before!!! Let me know what you think about this, I'm not sure if I will continue writing about this silly guy kachow

[euphoricimagination]

Part 2: You finally enter the infamous project, meeting your new 'teammates' as you play your first match

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Mastelist

A letter has arrived into your household, the name Japan Football Union on the front of it, with the details about the whole Blue Lock project you had agreed on.

By now you had already cut your hair into a more boyish cut, had been provided with the necessary stuff to hide your chest and a good backstory in case someone saw you with it on. And while you didn't look exactly like a boy, it was good enough to fool people.

You're now inside of the Japanese Football Union building, a bunch of boys already there when you entered. You shouldn't have worried that much, there are some here that were more on the pretty side rather than masculine.

"Congratulations, you unpolished lumps of talent, according to my judgment, the 300 of you are the best strikers under 18" Ego starts saying, making you scoff at how theatrical he was being. A pair of purple eyes look in your direction, giving you an amused look at your bored expression

"What, bored already?" He asks you, making his white haired friend look at you too

"He talks too much" you answered vaguely enough, as Ego starts debating with one of the participants. The purple hair dude chuckles while the white hair one just looks at you

"That I can't deny. I'm Mikage Reo, this is Nagi Seishiro, who are you?" He asks you

"Yn" you say simply, bowing slightly. THE Mikage Reo? The son of the biggest corporation in Japan?

"Isn't that a girls name?" Reo asks again, lifting his eyebrow

"My parents liked the name too much to give it up, i guess" you shrugged your shoulders just on time as a dude with black hair starts running towards the door, a bunch of them following right behind. You look at Ego, who had a creepy smile, and sigh "see you inside, i guess"

"Wait" Reo takes your arm "Don't tell you agree with that bastard?"

"Meh, it's better than nothing. You don't have to enter though, it's your decision after all" i say letting go of his hand, bowing slightly as i start walking away calmly. You can see Nagi trying to leave and Reo trying to convince him to stay as you pass down Ego.

"Keep an eye on him, that Isagi Yoichi has guts" Ego mutters as you pass him, making you nod.

++

When you enter Room Z there's already two people there, a sleeping one that had already changed and one with long red hair. You bow to the red hair one and move to your locker, wanting to change quickly before anyone else comes in

"What's that?" The red hair asks beside you, looking at your chest where the binder covered in some loose bandages was on "why are you wearing that?"

"I had some health problems, so I had to use this…" you say unaffected

"Really? Wouldn't this make it more difficult to breathe?" Asks curious

"I got used to it" you shrugged as you put the shirt on "What? Are you gonna judge me now?"

"Nah, just curious. I'm Chigiri Hyoma" he extends his hand, you took it and shake it, trying to look as confident as he did

"Yn, nice to meet you" you say and he nods, acknowledging you. You luckily finished changing when more boys started to arrive in the room, so you went to the wall to rest there until whatever Ego had planned starts. The last one to arrive was the same dude that entered first, Isagi Yoichi you presume.

After everyone is done changing, you hear the screen behind you start making noise, Ego appearing on the screen.

"Hi.hi. the others in your room are your roommates and your rivals who will push each other higher, I've already rank your abilities, that's the number you have in your uniform" he says, making everyone look at their arm sleeve, your number was the highest of the people near you "That ranking will change by the day and will go up or down depending on training and games. Finally, those in the top five will unconditionally be registered for the u-20 world cup happening six months from now"

You look surprised just like everyone else in the room, you gotta give it to Ego, he had a great plan. And even though you probably won't be able to participate, it even makes your heart excited at that.

"Time for some tag" Ego announces as a ball drops down into a bald kid, who immediately goes after Isagi

"This is ridiculous, I can't see how this game is "Top Training", I'm only participating to prove him wrong" says Kira, the kinda famous kid.

Luckily for you, you just had to dodge here and there, the ball concentrating mostly on Isagi, the bald dude and Kira. At some point the dude that was sleeping, Bachira according to the prompter, sends the ball a little too long when Kira moves to a different side, coming straight to you. You sensed Isagi's will to change, his aura changing completely after he tried to go for Kira, so you took the ball and sent it to him with only mere seconds to spare.

POW!

The ball sounds against Kira's face as the time runs out, Isagi effectively eliminating him. So that's why Ego told you to keep an eye on him, he definitely had the spirit that Ego was looking for.

"Good work, you lumps of talent, results are everything here, now get our loser! Ryosuke Kira!" Ego says appearing on the TV again, making Kira go on a rampage about how useless all this games were "In blue lock everything is related to soccer, take a good look around, you mediocre elite"

"The size of the room is the same size as the penalty area, right?" you say out loud, making a few of the other players surprised as Ego confirms your words "after all, that's the space where strikers work the most"

"SO WHAT? I GET THE SIZE OF THE ROOM, BUT PLAYING TAG ISN'T SOCCER!" he screams at you, rage in his eyes

"I mean…to tag someone requires a great ability to aim and shoot, which is needed if you want to score" you continue adding, his face still furious as Ego continues explaining how he lost. He then leaves the room annoyed, making Isagi come to where you were

"Why? Why did you pass it to me? If i hadn't kicked it then you would have lost!!" He says to you

"But you wanted to kick it" you answered simply as an arm passes around your shoulder, Bachira joining in the conversation

"Yeah, your face said so!" Bachira says to Isagi, then turning to you "Nice cover, by the way, I didn't think he would move at the last second!"

"But.."

"Results are everything here, right? Then we won by trusting you!" Bachira says, making you nod

"Congratulations, you've passed the entrance test!" Ego says from the monitor "the eleven of you will share a common destiny, sometimes you'll cooperate, sometimes you'll betray each other, now you are blue lock Team Z"

+++

3 days have passed since that entrance test, and an intensive training is now in place. Luckily for you, you have managed to hide your body from them quite easily, you woke up a bit earlier to change clothes and went to have a quick bath when everyone else was in the dorms ready to sleep. You didn't know if you were that good of a liar or they were just oblivious.

You were running in the treadmill alongside Kunigami and Chigiri when you noticed Isagi practicing his jumps, so far everything you've seen him do has been…mediocre at best

"Huh? Why does Ego like him so much?" You mutter to yourself. The same day where Kira was eliminated Ego has called you briefly to his office, telling you one more time that you needed to see if Isagi Yoichi had the capabilities to become the best striker…so far you have nothing positive to report

"Eh? What did you say?" Kunigami answers breathing hardly, understandably considering you were running at almost 20 kph*

"Nothing, just cursing Ego" you say, receiving a light laugh from Kunigami

"You know, you're more athletic than i thought you'd be" Chigiri says now, talking for the first time

"Yeah, you have a tiny frame, I'm surprised how you can keep up with us" adds Kunigami, making you raise your eyebrow "no offense, of course"

"Whatever, you do realize that my rank is higher than both of you, right?" You say with a small smirk

"Eh?! You're right! How's that even possible?! You're smaller than me!"

"Don't know, figure it out yourself" you say raising the speed a tad more, making the two other boys groan in frustration "C'mon, you can't be this tired already, we still have like ten more minutes to reach the usual 90 ones of a match"

"You're a monster, Yn-kun, a monster" Kunigami says as he raise his speed too "but I'm not losing to you"

You planned on having dinner alone, around this time you didn't have much physical movement, so you could ditch the binder for a more relaxed way to hide your chest, however it didn't make you less paranoid. That's why you much rather eat alone, so you could avoid any questions in case anyone noticed, and things were going well until a small bumblebee decided to raid your meal

"Ehh?! You have curry? No fair" Bachira whines as he sits besides you, a plate with to rice and chicken sitting in front of him

"I didn't think we will have different meals just because of 1 level difference" you say

"I know, right? I want some curry too!!" He says looking at your plate with want

"Don't you dare to touch it" you warn him, making him whine loudly again. You sigh, slightly annoyed at the boy "fine, we can share, better?"

"Yay! Thanks Yn-kun!" He says taking some curry to his plate "you know, I noticed the other day that you wear some bandages around your chest, are you okay?" He asks, making you almost choke on your drink

"I am, I just had..some small health issues"

"Do you have a scar? Can I see-?!" He asks

"No!" You cut him quickly "No, it's…something I'm not comfortable sharing"

"Ahh, well okay, it's fine. I was just curious" he smiles as he continues eating, not pressing any further "then Yn-kun, why did you pass that ball to Isagi-kun? Why didn't you shoot yourself?"

"I just felt Isagi-kun aura, didn't you noticed? He was in the zone" you explained "Isn't that the same reason you wanted to pass to him too? Because you knew he was going to shoot no matter what?"

"Well, yeah. Passing it to him felt right, but of course Kira-Kun had to move too. Do you also hear a monster when you play?"

"A monster? No…i just play however it feels nice" that's definitely an interesting take, a monster? What kind of weird bunch did Ego invite?

"Well, I like your play style too! You're definitely one of the top players here, let's practice together one day!"

"Sure, one day" you say smiling at him as he continues eating

The next day Ego calls you to the main room, and basically explained what you already knew about the plan, how team Z was the worst one of the bunch and all that

"... Whoever is best at soccer here is king, if you want a nice life, then win and boost yourselves. Now let's begin blue lock first selection. It's a tournament for the 5 teams, after the final match, only the top 2 teams will be selected. It's a survival match"

The moment everyone heard this they started babbling about their positions, everyone here was a forward, and now suddenly they had to play different positions if they wanted to survive and become the best striker. As Ego finishes talking everyone is left in a confusing state, will anyone even want to give up being a forward? You knew you couldn't just take it, while you were a good player, your job here was to help them achieve that dream, you probably won't even last until the second selection anyway.

"So… rock, paper, scissors?" You ask first

"Yeah, that seems fai-"

"Ehh!? Why do you get to decide that?! We should do it by strength instead!"

"Raichi, stop. Yn-kun is right, rock, paper, scissors is the fairest way to decide" Kunigami says stopping Raichi, who just mumbles an agreement. Everyone just agrees, starting to play

"Oh, i won" says Isagi, you also won the second place, so you had an early choosing opportunity, and Bachira was third

"Okay, so Isagi-kun chooses first, then Yn-kun, and like that down the line" Kuon explain, he was like the captain of the team

"Then i want to be a forward" says Isagi, Kuon writing down the position as Raichi scoffs

"I'll be a defender then" you say boringly when you feel an arm around your shoulders

"Ehh? Yn-kun, you are one of the best players here, why would you be a defender?" Bachira asks you

"He's right, you have crazy speed, your stamina is good too, you should be at least a right winger" as Kunigami "it wouldn't make sense if you are a defen-"

"Eh?! Are you looking down on us, you small fry?!" Raichi says to you, making you roll your eyes

"Well, I'll put Yn-kun as a right winger then" says Kuon, writing down your name in the notebook

"That's good! I'll be the other forward to then!" Bachira keeps the conversation going, with the other players ranting about how the good positions were already taken. It surprised you, honestly, you knew you were a good player in comparison to the rest of the girls, since you used to only play with boys growing up, but being considered an equal to these much taller and muscular dudes was something you never even tried to imagine.

Finally the match was about to start, you were putting the vest on.

"Isagi-kun won a chose to be center forward so let's focus our strategy around him" Kuon remind you

"Yeah" both you and Bachira answer, making you smile at each other. Bachira has been the one member you got closer the fastest

"Isagi-kun" you call him when you notice him thinking "relax, you can only go higher from here"

"Yeah, thanks" Isagi says

"We just have to win, right? Easy" Raichi says stretching

The match was against team X, one dude with spiked hair was the only one that grabbed the attention out of all.

The match starts with Bachira passing to Isagi; however, even before he was able to confront the other team, Raichi took the ball for himself, and before anyone could react, everyone was trying to get the ball to themselves. To be expected really, after the whole talk about having to be egoist to be a proper striker nobody would have just…obey. Everything was chaos until the one dude from Team X, Barou if you heard correctly by the cheers, took the ball and made a goal by himself.

Not one, not two, but five goals. Team Z was losing 5 to 0.

"Ahh we're just running in circles" Bachira says looking at the clock "there's no way we can get five points in 3 minutes..but"

"We can at least get one" you say, making Bachira look at you knowingly before looking at Isagi

"Yeah, the 3 of us can recover at least one, wanna try, Isagi-kun?"

"...Yeah"

"Bachira-kun and I will draw the attention, you shoot Isagi-kun" you say with Bachira nodding as he says, your job was to bring out the talent of the players, so that's what you'll do.

"Run, Isagi, we'll meet in front of the goal"

With that Bachira passes to Isagi, who passes almost immediately to you so you could start moving. You were able to pass one doing a nutmeg, passing the ball unexpectedly through his legs, while passing another one by just running a bit faster right before passing back to Bachira, who also passes three dudes before sending it to Isagi.

Isagi manages to get close to the goal; however the number 10 of Team X, Barou, cuts him off from scoring. You run towards the goal yourself when that happens, making the other team mark you as well, when suddenly the ball comes into your field of view, Isagi has passed the ball for you to shoot.

You instinctively take the ball, and despite having a good 70 meters between you and the goal, you do a powerful shot and make the first and only goal for team Z.

And despite absolutely being demolished by the other team, despite the sudden pass, despite mot being able to breathe properly because of your binder, despite that the only reason you were even here was to help the others score, you couldn't help to feel the need for more, to score again and again, to become better even when you were not supposed to.

"Hey! Yn-kun! Nice goal!" Says Bachira to you as you walk towards the lockers, giving you a high five

"Yeah, you were amazing Yn-kun" adds Isagi, giving you another high five

"Thanks Isagi, Bachira. But why did you pass to me? Was it because of that dude?" You ask Isagi

"I don't know how to explain it, it was unconscious, you just seemed with more opportunity to score"

He says a bit down as you enter the lockers, moving to sit down with a towel on his head while you clean your sweat with a towel. You ignored the rest of the team as they fought, an unconscious pass? Could it be that he's a natural playmaker? If he doesn't know why he passed the ball then that's the most likely reason why.

"... We're one loss away from the end!" You hear Kuon say, making the rest question him whether he had some plan or not

"Well" you hear Kunigami say "that goal that Yn-kun made couldn't have been done without Bachira and Isagi, right?

"Yeah, I'm sure we can come up with something if we start with that" you add as Raichi starts yelling again. You were still breathing hard when you noticed Bachira naked in front of everyone, so you ignored him hoping that your face wouldn't blush.

You kept ignoring the rest of the team as you focused on your body, your chest was hurting, but that was to be expected considering that you ran for 45 minutes without being able to have a full breath. You thought that your practice was more than enough, but clearly things were different on a real match

"I don't think everything that Ego is saying is true" Chigiri says going to the refrigerator, throwing you a drink as he took one for himself "I mean, he said this is to win the world cup and he was talking about world-class strikers like Ronaldo, Messi, and Cantona, but not all of them have won the world cup, but he did say ‘this is a battle to rebuild soccer from zero’. I think that might be some kind of hint"

"Oi, are you okay?" You hear Kunigami ask you

"Yeah, I'm fine" you say gaining your breath properly

"Why don't you just take off that chest thing you use?" Asks Chigiri, making Kunigami look at both of you confused

"I…I can't, I just need to get used to it" you say as you drink the energy drink "it'll take a few more matches though"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you did good today Yn-kun, that was a good goal"

And before you could answer Kunigami the TV behind you starts sounding, Ego appearing on it.

"Howdy, you lumps of talent, the second match of wing 5 has already finished. Team V crushed Team Y 8-0 so here are the current standing"

He then proceeds to explain how soccer works, why he wants this new revolution of soccer to happen and how strikers are the ones that can make this revolution happen. As you hear him talk you couldn't help to think how crazy this whole plan was, even though you pretty much heard everything he was saying once you agreed to do this.

"ACHIEVING THE REVOLUTION KNOWN AS A ‘GOAL’ CAN ONLY BE DONE WITH YOUR OWN WEAPONS!!"

Weapons, huh? That makes sense, if these boys don't know how to properly use and improve their talents, weapons as Ego called them, they won't get too far either here or in their soccer career.

"Yn-kun, we're gonna go shower, you coming?" Asks Kunigami as he and Chigiri stand up and start taking their clothes off, you really have to adapt to this fast if you don't want to stand out.

"Not yet, I wanted to get some practice done first, go ahead" you say as you stand up stretching

"Okay, don't overexert yourself" Chigiri adds as they both leave. You exchange some words with both Bachira and Isagi until you part ways, them going to the dorm while you waste time until all of them leave the bathroom area so you could shower at peace.

You were walking towards the practice area when you noticed Anri standing in the door, visibly waiting for someone

"Yn-chan, thank God you're here fast" she tells you when you approach her "Ego wants a reunion with you, let's go, you can wash up yourself there too, there's a private bathroom"

"Okay, what for though?"

"Not sure, but it's Ego we're talking about here"

She leads you to the apartment Ego was living in, a few floors above where the project was happening. You loosen up your binder on the way there, now being able to breathe properly until you have to face your team again.

"Yn-chan, come in, come in" Ego says as he starts preparing some ramen. You sit down on the table waiting for him when your stomach rumbles too "Anri-chan make her something"

"You could ask nicely, you know?" The woman says making you a bowl of ramen too "This is all he eats, Yn-chan, sorry it can't be more filling"

"It's alright, it's a nice change from curry" you says smiling at the woman as she sets the bowl in front of you, already ready. You don't really think twice as you start to dig in, Ego looking at you as he eats himself.

"So Yn-chan, nice goal back there" he says with a tone that left you wondering if it was a compliment or not "Although i would have much rather to see someone else scoring"

"Ego-san!"

"It's alright Anri-san. Isagi-kun passed it to me, it would have been weird if i didn't try to shoot, wouldn't it? After all, you were the one doing the whole talk that you needed to be an egoist and make goals" you say grabbing more noodles, an unfazed look in your face

"True, but do you think that helped them?"

"Yeah, somewhat. Some of them are still trying to understand what you meant by creating soccer from 0, so i think the combo that Isagi-kun, Bachira-kun and I did is a good start for them" You say as you drink some of the soda that Anri passed you "Although admittedly I wasn't thinking any of that at the time, I just wanted to score"

"Well, if anything your ego will make others want to improve too. What do you think of Isagi-kun so far? He passed instead of trying to score after all"

"He said the pass was unintentional, that he just felt I could score at that time. He probably has some spacial awareness and he doesn't know it yet, not everyone can just make that decision in the middle of a game" you add, thinking back at the pass from Isagi, he clearly was trying to score instead

"Well, he sounds more like a mild fielder if that's the case, so he needs to figure out how to use it as a striker. Help him find that out Yn-chan"

"Yes sir" says as you finish the food

"The rest seem to be in good shape, they just need to get used to this. Make sure to not lose again, Yn-chan, it's too early to leave"

"Yes sir" you say, however you can't help but wonder "Sir…why do you want me to help Team Z so badly?"

"Because I can sense that some of them can become amazing once they wake up, but they lack someone in the team that can help them get that instinct and nurture it. That's it"

"I thought you'd want them to figure it out in their own"

"And they still have to do that, you just need to give them some hints. You may leave now" you stand up and bow as Anri passes you a towel and some clothes before pointing where the private bathroom was.

"Ego-san, are you sure this was a good idea?" Anri asks Ego once both of them are alone. Ego smiles as he checks the recordings in his TV's from the goal you made and the faces of your teammates

"I'm sure that she can make this diamonds in the rough bloom" he focuses on Isagi face, smiling in excitement "she'll make sure to do it"

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Clingy 🔞 [Part 7]

In which Jungkook slowly tries to live again, which is a lot easier with someone as bright and full of life like you at his side.

Tags/Warnings: Hybrid AU, Wolf hybrid!Jungkook, Otter hybrid!Reader, Angst, strangers to lovers

Additional Chapter Warnings: Fluff, it's disgusting really

Length: short

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Throughout his life, Jungkook had always been a people-pleaser.

It's easier to just do as told than to make your own decisions, he's learned. Every choice made by himself bears the possibility of consequences he won't be comfortable with, after all. It's scary, even now, as an adult. But looking at you, he feels as if those consequences can't ever be worse than the idea of not having you at his side.

What are you at this point?

He's not sure because he's never truly asked you out, and neither did you. He knows he's pretty much clinging to you like glue, but do you feel the same way?

You're currently holding onto his arm like a lifeline, and he's come to learn that it's simply otter-behavior. Or at least he tells himself it's nothing more than that to not get his hopes up too high, or his emotions from overflowing. You just need something to hold on to, and he's conveniently an alpha wolf hybrid, known to emit a strong and calming presence.

"Oh, I love those!" You say, pulling Jungkook with you to the candy isle at the small food store. "I'm gonna stock up on those. I love chewing on them whenever I'm feeling like a pup that's going through teething again." You laugh, putting two bags of the hybrid snack into your basket before you hold onto Jungkook's arm again.

You're so effortlessly cute in his eyes.

"Have you talked to a dentist about that?" He wonders quietly. "There might be something going on if your teeth hurt." He asks, but you shake your head.

"No, they don't hurt-" you explain as you both walk past an elderly couple that stares after you with fond gazes. "-Its a mental thing, I believe. Like stress-relief!" You tell him, and he nods. He can understand that. When he was a pup, he went through phases like that too. It's interesting that you've not gotten over those phases yet it seems.

"Can I ask why you're so clingy with me?" He wonders calmly as you put all the things you want to buy out to be scanned by the young worker.

"Well, first of all I'm an otter, and we're just.. like that, I guess." You shrug. "And second of all, you're my boyfriend now, right?" You ask, gaze lifted up at him.

He blinks, once, twice, before he fully registers what you'd just said.

He's your boyfriend.

He's your boyfriend.

You're his girlfriend.

He doesn't know why that makes him turn a little red. Why it makes him shy of all things. He's an alpha wolf working in the adult companion industry. Or rather worked, past tense. Still. It's odd how.. nice it feels.

"Oh." He just says after a moment, nodding to himself. "I.. see." He mumbles, while you laugh next to him, squeaking in delight. "What?" He asks, and you just shove his body a little playfully.

"Nothing." You simply say, amused by his reaction.

Later that day, he finds you clinging onto him as you sleep at night like he's your lifeline, and this time, he knows it's not just instinct for you. You like him, enjoy his company for more than just pleasure, and he feels incredibly proud to be the one you chose to be with, despite his awkwardness and controversial past.

He wants to be his best version of himself for you, he decides, as he presses a quiet kiss to your head.

He's going to be the best mate ever.

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P4 - London (1941) and Soho (1967)

So, was anybody actually fooled into thinking that our angel was really working for the Nazis in this scene? It was a little confusing at first I’ll grant you, but the moment we see him giving away books, particularly first editions, and especially first editions of books of prophecy, that should have given the game away to all and sundry. I do love how much Aziraphale is enjoying himself in this scene though, like it’s all just a big, exciting game that he’s winning at.

His use of the phrase “our side” is interesting to me, particularly if we take into account the conversation he has with Crowley about sides at the end of this episode. But I’m getting ahead of myself. In truth, I’m not sure whether he uses the phrase as part of his own Heavenly cover story or because he really does believe that his “side” is now with the Allies in the war. If it’s the latter, it would suggest that his allegiances sit more squarely with humanity in deference to Heaven at this point. That said, he very quickly switches to it being “your people” when he realises he has no control over the situation. I’d just like to take a moment to appreciate the extreme reaction we see on Aziraphale’s face at that point – it actually feels like it’s over-reacted to the point of falsity, but it’s clear from the following dialogue he was not aware he was being double crossed. I can’t help but laugh every time I watch this little clip:

Ah, what a surprise! Crowley has arrived to save Aziraphale at exactly the right time, despite not having seen or spoken to each other since their disagreement over the holy water in 1862 (as confirmed in the Script Book). It’s like he somehow knew exactly where the angel was and that he was getting himself into trouble… Not only that, he’s putting himself through some severe discomfort to come and save the day. (Side note: anybody else find the image of Crowley walking on a hot beach in bare feet extremely amusing?) Aziraphale genuinely appears surprised to see him, so as with Paris I don’t think he knew the demon was within his proximity - although there is a look of recognition on his face as he realises who it is walking down the aisle towards him (and what a cute image that is), his first question is to demand to know why he’s there.

Crowley is more than happy to declare that the ONLY reason he’s in that church is to stop the angel getting into trouble. No excuses, no stuttering, just a flat-out statement – I am here for you. I’d really like to think that we might get a bit of backstory about how Crowley is always in the right place at the right time for Aziraphale in season 3 – it’s just one of those little bits of canon I’d like to have more detail about (I know, I know: “what and see”).

I have to hand it to Crowley in this scene – he still has the dignity to be insulted at the suggestion that the Nazis are working for him even, not lose his temper that the suggestion has been hurled (rather thoughtlessly) at him by his only friend, and reiterate that his reason for being there is for Aziraphale, all whilst trying to preserve the skin on his feet. Having seen how quickly the demon can lose his patience (and temper), this feels like it would have taken quite an effort to achieve.

We find out two things from Glozier here: first, that Crowley is “famous”, presumably amongst the Nazis, though we don’t find out what he’s famous for. Whatever it is, it’s not so impressive that they’re not prepared to kill him. Second, that he has changed his name again – retaining the “Crowley” as a last name, implementing a first name (Anthony) and a middle initial (J). I’m sure I’m not the only one that enjoys the lovely bit of small talk that goes on between them both as Crowley hops around, as if discussing this bit of news were the only thing on either of their minds. I also love that the demon seems genuinely invested in whether Aziraphale likes his choice or not, and Aziraphale’s response that he’ll “get used to it” says so much about how he feels about their relationship at this point. He actually doesn’t look particularly impressed with the new name, and perhaps it’s telling that we never hear Aziraphale refer to him as Anthony (even though he did adapt the new name when it was changed from Crawly).

Crowley’s realisation that there’s a whole font of holy water, completely unguarded, serves as a poignant reminder of the previous scene, despite the fact that he’s still hopping around in a now vaguely irritating way. It makes me wonder if this is where he gets the idea that he can get hold of his “insurance” without Aziraphale’s help by robbing a church (as will be seen in 1967).

We’re back in the land of hidden communications in this next exchange:

This feels like the angel and demon partnership that we have, so quickly, come to love. Teamwork, understanding, and a little bit of sacrifice to achieve a common goal, without the need for explicit declarations of intent. It’s so very different from the strained conversation we saw in 1862, but this definitely feels like it’s a truer representation of their partnership.

I want to take a moment here to talk about something that feels inconsistent to me in the scene that follows the explosion. I had initially wondered about the fact that the ground no longer appears to be consecrated after the bomb has hit the church (Crowley has stopped hopping around like a madman), but having done some (very shallow) research it would appear that churches can only be considered consecrated if they are suitable for worship. Seeing as that bomb pretty much obliterates the building, I think we can probably declare the ground now deconsecrated. My brain however is focussed on that font of holy water. When the church was blown up, that font, including its contents, would have gone everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. There’s no way that Crowley was getting through that explosion without some of it getting on him, or something that he touches (like the book bag he’s about to tear out of a dead Nazi’s hand). I have supposed that there is a possibility that it would have evaporated in the heat, but I’m not sure that fixes the problem – water evaporated becomes steam and Crowley would likely have inhaled some of it. So we’re left with two possibilities here – either Aziraphale did something that would cover these eventualities in his own miracle or Crowley actually can come into contact with holy water. Not that he’d ever be able to test the latter theory of course, it’s a pretty deadly experiment for a demon to be carrying out. I think the former of the two possibilities is probably the right answer, even then it seems like a bit of a stretch – what exactly did Aziraphale’s miracle do?

Moving on, we have another instance of Aziraphale calling Crowley a name that the demon would not wish to have as a label – “kind”. And as with Paris, the reaction is a very different one from what we see from him at Tadfield Manor, this time simply attempting to brush it off but this time the exchange happens without his glasses.

Not only that, there’s a little smirk on Crowley face suggests he’s actually rather pleased with the outcome of his actions.

Aziraphale seems very humbled by Crowley’s intervention here too, which is not something we’re used to seeing from him. I suspect he knows that he was in genuine danger during the meeting with the Nazis and is well aware of what a huge favour he’s just been afforded. And I’m sure he’s probably thinking about how badly things ended between them the last time they met. He also knows that thanks and appreciation are not something that Crowley does, so tries to make light out of it pointing out the most trivial of the consequences that this act of kindness has granted him – the paperwork.

But Crowley’s not done with his gifts, is he? If we set aside the question hovering around how he even knew there were any of Aziraphale’s prized books to be rescued in the first place (no seriously, how does he know? Maybe he saw them on the table before Harmony bundles them into the bag in the church, but he doesn’t seem to be paying that much attention), there’s no doubt that this is probably the most thoughtful gift someone could ever give the angel. And Crowley knows it very well – the relish on his face when he knows he’s about to deliver something that will give Aziraphale so much joy is absolutely previous.

And here we are. You all know what’s coming. In fact, there has so much coverage been done of the rest of this scene, that I’m not even going to bother talking about it.

What kind of fan would I be if I didn’t gush about the finger touch and Aziraphale’s look?! I’m going to try not to spend too much time on it though, purely because it really has been talked about by every single person before me, and will continue to be discussed by many.

So, the things I love about this are everything the fact that neither of them flinches when their fingers touch (this despite us not having seem them physically touch in any of the previous historical scenes); that they establish and maintain eye contact for the touch; and (last, but most definitely not least) that Crowley actually lifts his thumb to stroke Aziraphale’s finger when their digits meet. Seriously, that last one really gets me – it says so much about his knowledge of his feelings and his intent with the saving of the books. In all honesty, I watched that GIF about 10 times before moved on with the rest of this write-up, this tiny moment genuinely makes my heart sing. I also happen to love the extreme nonchalance of Crowley asking Aziraphale if he wants a lift home, as if none of the previous 5 minutes has just happened. Side note: this will be the first time that Aziraphale will meet the Bentley. He likely doesn’t even know that Crowley has a car, so being asked if he wants a “lift home” will be a first in their 6000 years of friendship.

And then of course, there’s Aziraphale’s look as Crowley leaves the scene.

He’s so adorable isn’t he? Only finally realising how important he is to Crowley, and that the feeling is mutual, after he’s been handed a bag of old books prised from the hands of a dead Nazi. Silly angel.

So the first thing I’ll point out about this scene involves a bit of gazing into the future (as far as the series was concerned anyway) – the pub that Crowley meets his cronies in is the Dirty Donkey. Which means he was conducting this meeting directly across the road from Aziraphale’s book shop. And has probably been hanging around in the general area of Aziraphale’s book shop. Like, a lot. It’s never talked about (or not yet anyway) so we have no idea of how frequently Crowley is in the area or why he picks this particular pub to conduct his criminal activities from, but it’s certainly worth noting.

Let’s give David Arnold another tip of the hat for his treatment of the theme tune for scene setting. This time we hear it in the stripped back tones of a 60s guitar sound, not so dissimilar to Buddy Holly’s style (apologies, that’s another bit of future gazing, unless you’ve read the Script Book, in which case you’ll know that Buddy Holly should have featured very prominently throughout season 1). Holly actually died in ’59, but that doesn’t stop this piece of soundtrack doing what this soundtrack always does so beautifully – enhance the setting of a scene.

I also quite enjoy the fact that the format of this scene appears to mirror the one from 1941 – opening with just one of our heroes, who appears to be getting themselves into potential danger, with the other coming to rescue them. There’s also a symmetry in the giving of gifts – Aziraphale’s presentation of the holy water mirroring Crowley’s saving of the books. It’s a lovely way to communicate to the audience that we are meant to view them as equals, and that they balance each other out (just as Crowley says way back in the Kingdom of Wessex).

We shouldn’t be surprised that Crowley refuses to tell his “employees” what exactly it is they’re going into the church for – I should think they would consider there to be something highly suspicious about breaking into a church to steal holy water after all. And I would dearly love to know what it was that Shadwell spent time in prison for, I mean I know he’s a distinct oddbod, but criminal? I wouldn’t say he had it in him. And for the record, £300 (the amount being paid to each criminal to do this job) equates to about £5.5K in today’s money. Not a bad little earner.

Let’s talk geography for a moment, shall we? Specifically, I’m talking about the alleyway that Shadwell has squirreled himself away down. Which looks suspiciously like the alleyway that runs down the side of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death in season 2 (again with the crystal ball, I know. There is a point, I promise).

The picture doesn’t make it painfully obvious, but the ramp, steps, and barrier that you can see on the left-hand side of the alleyway are a match – 1967 on the left, season 2 present day on the right. Not only that, we get a glimpse across the street from the alleyway entrance when we see Crowley turning towards his car.

Knowing what we know about Whickber Street from season 2, the positioning of the Bentley would appear to be directly outside Aziraphale’s shop, though the shop fronts tell a different story. What would seem to confirm that Crowley has in fact parked his car directly in front of the angel’s shop is the entrance to the corner unit – again 1967 on the left, season 2 present day on the right:

Perhaps this is just “the magic of television” and the need to re-use the same set for multiple different settings for cost purposes. I’m not so sure about that, but it seems almost too obvious for Crowley to be hanging around Soho in such a blatant way if he was trying not to be seen by Aziraphale. After all, the angel has been in the Bentley in 1941, so would know what it looked like, and it’s not like they would have been a common car in 1967.

I also want to take a quick moment to consider that Shadwell is hanging around an area in London that is painfully at odds with his views on sex workers, as we see in the way he speaks to Madame Tracey later. Perhaps those views are established later in his life, maybe even as a result of his spending time in London’s Red Light District (or at least, it was in the 1960s).

If you didn’t know something was about to happen as Crowley opens the car door, you should perhaps feel a little ashamed of yourself because… it’s the magical miracle noise! We know it’s not Crowley doing it because we can see him getting into the car, so I think it’s fair to say we should be assuming it has something to do with Aziraphale before we see him on camera. What I don’t understand is why he apparates inside the car. Or possibly why he bothers to apparate at all – as he’s about to point out, he works in Soho so it would be easy enough to simply approach Crowley on the street at any time. Perhaps it’s to ensure that the demon can’t make a hasty get-away? That doesn’t make a lot of sense in the declared canon of the series at this point. However, it’s my belief (and that of most of the fandom I think) that something happened between them after the scenes we get to see of 1941. I also think Aziraphale got spooked by it and left sharpish (more of that in the 1941 apology dance fanfic when I get to it). If we take that as canon, Aziraphale’s cautionary tone and covert apparition, along with Crowley’s look of surprise and longing at Aziraphale’s appearance make a lot of sense all of a sudden.

It looks as if Aziraphale is really struggling to say what he knows he must here, and the way Crowley reacts when he realises that the angel knows exactly what he’s planning makes it pretty clear that he’s not exactly comfortable with the topic of conversation either. I actually find it painful to watch this whole conversation (and I don’t think I’m the only one, though it’s not as tough as some we’ll come to later in both seasons). From the subtle revelation of how much Crowley has taken Aziraphale’s refusal to provide him with the holy water to heart (seeing as he knows exactly how many years have passed since that disagreement), to the searching look Aziraphale gives Crowley after he hands over the thermos (almost as it he’s trying to memorise his face), and everything in between, this is the most emotionally available we’ve seen the couple being with each other. And it takes its toll on them both – Crowley is rendered speechless and Aziraphale almost in tears, breathing heavily to try and stave them off. The angel is making a personal sacrifice to ensure Crowley stays out of danger here and Crowley knows it. What really is there to say, other than “thank you”? Alas, Aziraphale draws the line there (in a vaguely symmetrical fashion to what we say in Paris, when he asks Crowley if he can say thank you for the rescue), so he has to come up with something else. It’s such a desperate little gesture too - the only thing that he can offer to show any sort of favour in return is to offer Aziraphale a lift.

There’s a little reflexive noise from Crowley in response to Aziraphale’s refusal of his offer that really does convey how disappointed he is, and for once the angel is paying attention. I suspect he tells him not to look so disappointed because he finds it very hard to deny Crowley anything when he knows he really wants something. He even offers an alternative, something with promise and future in it, something that sounds suspiciously like a date.

Perhaps one day we could… I don’t know… Go for a picnic… Dine at the Ritz…

Crowley’s not done though, he’s going to keep trying to string out this meeting as long as he can. Let’s just bear in mind that his offer to take Aziraphale anywhere he wants to go is rather a moot point – they’re in Soho, a very small area of London, which is where Aziraphale works and lives. Even if we ignore the fact that the Bentley appears to be parked within 6 feet of the door to the book shop, there really wouldn’t be any need to drive to get from one place in Soho to another place in Soho. As such, I think this offer is simply Crowley wanting to spend time with Aziraphale, and it’s something he wants so much that he almost pleads with the angel to reconsider the invitation.

Tiny side note: the bullet holes you can see in the driver side window are referenced in the book. They’re actually a sticker, tied to a James Bond film promotion. The only time Crowley has ever put fuel in the Bentley he did to get it.

Aaaaaand we’re here. At the line. You all know the one.

Hnnnnnnnnh.

The first time I watched this show, I was only half paying attention and I just thought he was talking about Crowley’s driving. It wasn’t until I rewatched prior to bingeing through season 2 that I realised he really isn’t, and I can tell you it hit me like a tonne of bricks. If we assume it’s likely they haven’t seen each other since 1941, which makes sense if we’re also assuming that something happened between them at that time, Aziraphale has only been in the Bentley once before this (well, maybe multiple times in one evening, but you get the drift). What’s to say that one experience was typical of Crowley’s driving? Decades have passed since that evening, so it’s not out of the question to consider that his driving style might have changed in that time. And why not just say “yes thank you, but do you think you drive a bit slower”? Or even for Crowley to offer to drive slower on his behalf? No, this heartbreaking line has nothing to do with the driving at all, and Crowley’s lack of resistance to it and look of resignation says he knows it but has no idea who to talk the angel down from his position. This scene ends in the Script Book with Crowly driving away and Aziraphale watching him go, but my head canon has given me a different outcome here (which fits with what we actually see in the show), which I’ll be writing a fic about in the future.

This one has run a little long (hardly surprising given that it covers the 1941 AND 1967 historical scenes). I toyed with the idea of splitting into two parts but that felt excessive, particularly given I still have to deal with, what I think, is the first of the ineffable divorces later in this episode. As always, questions, comments, discussion, all welcome!

[claiestve]

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨 ꨄ Zaros

˜”* ❝'𝘾𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴢᴀʀᴏꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

You were going on a walk to calm you down. The trials have stressed you out to a ton and you could not sit still. However, you wanted company. You knew how much he irritated and aggravated you with his little tantrums about how ‘spoiled’ you were but you couldn’t help but feel relaxed around him. He was the one person you could be yourself around. Even though your guard was always up, mask always on, he got to see a more truthful side to it. 

It didn’t take too long to find him as he visited his favorite areas. And there he was, reading in the grass. You couldn’t grasp how he felt so comfortable doing such and so openly, but it wasn’t time for you to judge, not now anyway. 

“I’m going for a walk to clear my head.” You say looking at him sternly. However, he seemed quite unbothered. He didn’t ask anything or say anything witty. He just sat there. 

“Have fun.”

“You don’t want to join me?” 

“Do you want me to?” He raised a brow, smirking. A stupid look that he always has on his face. It was utterly annoying but it did amuse you just a bit. 

You nodded to his ask and waited for him to get up. 

“You’re carrying the book around? Just leave it here.”

“I’d rather have it on me in case you try hurting me. Oddly, you would even want me to join you on this walk. Suspicious even. Are you planning on getting your competition out of the way early? That’s foul you know.” There he went with his blunt, arrogant, insufferable rants and accusations. 

You didn’t even care to indulge in him, you’d rather relish this peace. He must’ve noticed your unusual silence because he reciprocated it. Even though you were already a quieter person, often holding back, you’d snap back at him. 

“So, my Earis, what brings us here and on this stroll? You seem awfully peaceful and quiet today.” 

“Well,” You started hesitantly, “I know the trials have been utterly stressful, wouldn’t you agree?”

Zaros scoffed at your facade. He knew you weren’t as put together as you portrayed yourself to be. Unfortunately for him, you had no intention of arguing. 

“So you brought your rival on a stroll with you? That’s outright stupidity.”

“You’re free to leave, Zaros. You were invited to join me, not required.”

He stared at you in silence. Normally, he had a smart counterpoint but not this time. Not even one word no matter how bad he wanted to say it. For the first time, he was completely dumbfounded. 

“Apologies, I– the idea just confused me.”

You nodded in acceptance of his apology. Most of the time, you’d laugh at him for being so quickly flabbergasted; however, you didn’t have the energy for that. You didn’t have the energy to be as angry or snarky as you typically were. 

“But,” He started again, “You are very quiet today. Perhaps you want me to start the conversations?”

“That would be nice.”

“Ah, what am I most interested in asking you about today?”

“Please nothing that would make me feel guilty.”

The two of you laughed at that. It felt so odd but so right. After all, if a joke is funny, laugh. That was something you’ve taught him a long time ago. Around when you first met. Zaros wasn’t the best at expressing himself but you changed him completely. Whether that was a good or bad thing, you didn’t care enough to debate it. 

“Remember when we were learning how to skip rocks? Ah, you hated that. Always complaining about your hands being dirty and coming to me to help you clean them.”

“I remember that. I still loathe the filthiness of those rocks. I did turn to you a lot though, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Always going to me saying ‘Zaros, my hands are dirty again!’ I remember I would use my own clothes to wipe your hands and arms. I felt like your protector or some such.”

In a way, he kind of was. That’s how you used to see him. Oddly enough, that’s how he saw you too. 

He cleared his throat and walked closer to you, “That was when we were inseparable.”

You smiled at him, “The most free I've ever been.”

He looked at you in confusion. He knew you didn’t have the most freedom here but if anything, he thought you would enjoy it knowing your ‘standards’.

“You feel trapped here?”

“Not trapped, just very restricted.”

“Do you feel trapped right now?” Zaros asks, putting his hand on your shoulder, expecting you to push it off.

“No, not when I’m with you.”

You say as you keep his hand on your shoulder, enjoying his company. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

this was originally supposed to be an alex fic but... no! this was also going to go in so many different directions so it took me a minnn

[milky-fixx]

cursed

wanderer x reader // genshin impact  700 words // hurt / comfort truly the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written. 

“I think I’m cursed.”

The Wanderer pauses his stride. Looking back, he finds you seated before the bank of Devadaha Pool, staring out at the waters of Sumeru. He frowns, a tad disgruntled that he didn’t sooner that you’d fallen behind. As he approaches you, he notes your position--knees pulled up to your chest, hands clasped over your ankles. Your gaze is fixated on the lily pads floating across the water, your expression inscrutable. 

You look vulnerable.

His mind is racing with possibilities to explain your current state. But then he replays your words. “A curse?” His voice darkens, reminding you all too well of just how dangerous he can be. “Who would dare curse you?”

Your eyes widen, glancing up swiftly. “No! Not that kind of curse. Put that away!” You gesture at his catalyst, which he brought out at the first hint of trouble. Begrudgingly he does so, glancing at you with suspicion.

“Explain,” he demands.

“I just…” Your shoe nudges into the wet soil before you, watching idly as a crab, unearthed, scurries by. The Wanderer catches himself from a cross remark (”Are you intentionally ignoring me?”) when he realizes--you’re hesitating. He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight onto his other leg. He can wait.

“Bad things always seem to happen to me. It’s like I’m a magnet for misfortune,” you say ruefully, toeing the sand once more. 

“It’s hard not to feel dragged down by everything. And… I worry. I worry people tire of me. I worry that my negativity pushes everyone away. That my mood is like a black hole that sucks up all the joy around me. I worry that I’m exhausting everyone I care about,” you finish. Your hand comes up to cradle your chin, gazing thoughtfully at the soil before you. As if it holds the answers to your problems.

Your companion remains quiet. You don’t expect him to say anything, of course. It’s the first time you’ve ever voiced some of the concerns plaguing you. 

To your surprise, he leans down with a huff, sitting next to you on the bank.  His legs crossed, he leans back against his arms, his hands planted firmly into the sand.

“…How foolish. I’m still here, you know.”

“What?”

“You said ‘everyone.’ But I’m still here.”

He gazes out at the waters himself, mulling over your words. He could relate to the feeling, in a way. His life up until this point was defined by betrayal. By his creator, by Dottore, by the boy from Tatarasuna who caved to his human mortality. But Scaramouche fashioned himself as someone who wreaked havoc, rather than had havoc wreaked upon him. Rather than mope over the events that had led him to that point, he preferred to take action.

Revenge.

Those who had caused misfortune to befall him would regret the day they crossed him. That he could assure. 

At least the old him. The Wanderer’s anger had died down to a mere flickering ember. One that could be tempered by contemplation. Or, if that failed, by sending a few vortexes of compressed air towards his enemies, banishing them from his sight. 

But you... You aren’t like him. He glances back at your position. Curled in on yourself, hiding away from the harshness of the world. And he remembers himself once doing so, back when he was a fledgling creation. Before innocent, wide-eyed Kabukimono knew about the cruelty of the world he was thrust into.

His attention drifts back to the waters before you two. Flowing uninterrupted, despite whatever hardships the world threw at it.

“Do not think of yourself as a curse or the cursed. Because if that were true... then my life wouldn’t have turned out for the better after I met you.”

“I will stay by your side,” he says, catching your eye. “After all...” A hint of amusement creeps into his tone. “You can’t curse me if my existence has already been shunned by the gods.”

“But if the time comes where someone dares to spite you… Hmph. Well.” He laughs humorlessly. “They’ll find I’m not quite as forgiving as you.”

It’s as much of a promise as he can offer. To curse at the world that’s cursed you. 

[semidea7]

First Impression (Huskerdust, Fizzarozzie)

"You know, I was honestly surprised when you told Fizzie about your boyfriend." Asmodeus put his now empty drink back on the table, facing the spider demon. "I can't lie, we were actually a bit worried. We didn't know what to expect." The Sin kept going, his tone way less panicked and concerned than the one Angel had heard on the phone the previous day.

Angel smiled, quite amused by his words. He directed his gaze to Fizzarolli and Husk, who left to order a second round of shots, but were actually engaging in a conversation.

"And now that you've seen him?" Angel asked, eyes still on the two shorties ahead of them, his voice cracking a bit despite his smile. Asmodeus could not know how much Angel valued his judgment, or how much he trusted him.

He had made the mistake to not listen Asmodeus once, and now Valentino had his soul. He would never repeat the same mistake twice, not even regarding foolish matters.

Asmodeus cared for the sinner as well, almost in a paternal way, especially since Angel had grown so close to his Froggie.

"We never meet your dates in a place other than a club." The big demon smiled, leaning with one arm on the table, while only gaining a puzzled look from Angel.

"Yeah, so what?" The sinner asked, not sure what was Asmodeus' point. "Husk likes drinking, but he's not a party person. He prefers a more quite setting where people can actually talk." Angel shrugged, watching over his boyfriend, noticing the smile as the cat tried to follow Fizz's expression and quick talking, the latter looking rather comfortable, which only made Angel's heart flutter.

"Valentino does not know about him, does he?" Asmodeus asked again, his smile still there, but his tone slightly more serious. "I mean, it's clear it's not one of his clients."

'He actually treats you like a human being and does not costantly lash on the money spent on you,' the demon would have added, but Angel's widened eyes already confirmed his suspicion, so there was no need to bring back bad memories.

Angel sighed, finally taking off his attention from Husk, a hand on his cheek, as his smile vanished completely. "I can't let Valentino know about him." He spoke, the anxiety and fear clear in his demeanour and in his words. "I don't know what he could do. So please, don't let him know anything, mh?" the spider asked.

Asmodeus knitted his brows in confusion, and if he didn't know it was just Angel's anxiety speaking, he would have actually got offended.

"Of course I ain't gonna do anything that dumb, sweetheart." The Sin shook his head, sighing. "But are you sure you don't want me to do something for Valentino?" Asmodeus leaned close to Angel, whispering to him.

The spider immediately shook his head, quick to react. "We've already talked about this, of course not!" he looked at him with a stubborn expression.

"You already do so much, always checking on me sending him those threats-"

"But if they don't fucking work!" Asmodeus found himself shouting louder, fists on the table, as the bar grew silent. The Sin's rage was soon replaced by embarassment, especially when his boyfriend came by his side.

"Hey, Ozzie, everything alright?" Fizzarolli asked, cupping his boyfriend's cheeks, as the bigger demon nodded.

Husk was quickly behind Angel as well, his hands on the spider's shoulders, drawing circles on his fur by using his fingers. "What were you talking about?" the cat demon asked, sensing there was something wrong.

At that, Angel and Asmodeus exchanged a look, before both of them laughed. "You got us waiting too long, you mean teases!" Asmodeus cheerfully said, pullying Fizzarolli close to him, taking the imp off guard as he also found himself chuckling.

"We were about to get impatient." Asmodeus kept going, as Fizzarolli rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please, we've left for five minutes." The clown tilted his head, before finding himself accepting a quick peck on his lips.

"Still too long." Asmodeus whispered in that soothing voice of his, making Fizzarolli sweeten his smile.

On the other hand, Husk didn't seem that convinced - Angel knew that by the way his boyfriend was trying to analyze him, as he'd usually do - but he let it slide, shrugging as he sat near Angel, whose eyes lightened up as the cat did so.

"Ya know, this guy is the coolest!" Fizzarolli said, pointing at Husk, before stopping his talking to take the new drinks the waiter brought them, sliding them to the others. "He said if I wanted he could teach me how to play poker." The imp happily said, as Angel returned the smile.

"I mean," Husk accepted Angel's hand as it found his paw, "It's pretty strange you never picked up on the rules while working for the Sin of Greed." Husk pointed out, making Fizzarolli exhale an exhasperated sigh.

"Please, do you think he'd ever let me do something fun while working for him? Hell, no, that bastard" The imp shook his head, looking down as he gripped the glass more tightly.

"Well, it's good you cut ties with him. And I'm glad I met you in person, you aren't as dumb or stuck-up as you appeared in public." Husk went on, looking annoyed as he received a light pat from Angel, who looked quite pissed.

"Did you fucking have to tell him that?" the spider whispered embarassed, before both Asmodeus and Fizzarolli found themselves laughing.

"No, no, it's alright, he's only speaking facts, doll. At least I'm glad you changed your mind on me, cause I kinda like you too, Husk!" Fizzarolli replied, shooting a knowing grin in Angel's direction, the spider rolling his eyes as he smiled at his friend.

"It's just- we didn't expect to see someone like you when Angel suggested to meet up." Asmodeus admitted, cracking a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. "How can I say..." he started to gesture, as if to find the right words, before Fizzarolli chipped in with an unamused expression. "Yeah, he usually goes out with dickheads with a dick bigger than their brain, who give dick, but are also dicks, ya follow me?" the imp asked, as Angel narrowed his eyes at him.

"What? I was complimenting you! You certainly upgraded your standards!" Fizzarolli raised his hands defensively, as Husk's smirk only widened at the interaction.

"If Angel does not, I'll accept the compliment for him." The cat demon looked at his boyfriend, as Angel let go of his hand. "Oh, fuck off, as if I've ever wanted to date those idiots in the first place." He crossed his arms, as Fizzarolli commented something about him always having to be a fucking drama queen.

As Fizzarolli started to shame Angel's exes one by one and the spider kept bickering with him in return, Asmodeus interrupted the argument. "I genuinely hope you stay together for a long while" the Sin said, feeling warm as he looked at the nice picture that Angel and Husk made. "I love the way you two look at each other. It's...I'm sorry, I don't even know how to prhase it" Asmodeus added, sniffing as he was staring to feel a bit emotional.

The Sin of Lust saying such romantic things as if he was a school girl? Husk surely found it weird, but at this point, he knew better than to judge someone by their title.

And of course, this was just their first night out, more time had to pass before Asmodeus would tell Husk about how much of a failure he'd felt anytime he couldn't help with relieving Angel's pain, anytime the spider could only receive empty advice from him, anytime he couldn't save Angel from a new heartbreak...the same feel of shame when he couldn't do anything for his lover working for that bastard of Mammon.

Fizzarolli kissed Asmodeus' cheek as the Sin's lip started to quiver, as he was silently muttering swears. Angel took Asmodeus' hand, holding it alongside with Husk's, exchanging a brief, sweet look with him.

Angel sighed, leaning his head on Husk's shoulder, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He felt a kiss on his forehead, so he opened his eyes to see Husk looking down at him, while Fizzarolli was sweetalking Asmodeus at the other side of the table, trying to calm the big demon down.

"Does this mean I made a good first impression?" Husk whispered, his smile and his voice softening as he was holding who for him was the most precious being in the world. Alongside with these dorky, adorable new friends, of course.

Angel raised his head, smiling in return, nodding contently. "You did a great job, darling, thank you." He answered, kissing Husk's knuckles, a wicked smile forming on his face. "They seem to truly adore you." He addes, pointing to Asmodeus and Fizz, not taking his eyes away from Husk.

"So, you can already start thinking of your reward, baby~" the spider whispered, as Husk playfully rolled his eyes, shaking his head, giving another kiss to Angel's forehead. His boyfriend was really something else, but since Husk was a mess as well, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll take the offer once we are back to the Hotel, alright?" Husk smiled, taking Angel's chin, gently holding it.

"Ya know, I can come up with some suggestions for ya! Bet you still don't know how many kinks-"

"Fizz, fucking no!"

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 25: [HOST] asmo / shopping trips

ao3 link

note: the symbiote is now nicknamed charlie, and i think that's all the extra info you need? also whoaa second to last!! one more and i'll finally have finished this (which i really should've have done ages ago shfbdjshf)

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Asmo is - inarguably - an excellent shopper. He knows his brothers’ tastes, inside and out (not that he necessarily agrees with all of them, but he knows them). Certain brothers are easier to buy for than others, but he at least knows that, given a day, he can come back with something they’ll like - clothes, ornaments, or otherwise. Thus, it isn't a surprise that he’s put in charge of new clothes when the House of Lamentation first takes in its new ward.

It’s simple in the early days: find an old t-shirt, wash it well with a scentless detergent, then shrink it down to the size of a small smock. For IK, it seems comfortable and familiar.

She creeps out of the closet still clutching her old gown and stands there silently. Asmo resists the impulse to clap, and instead asks, “Comfy?”

IK doesn’t seem to know what he means. Moving slowly, he points to her, then to his own soft smile, then tilts his head to the side. After a moment, she nods.

“That’s enough for me,” He sighs, then stands up. “Alright, my darling. You’re doing great. Think you can come down with me?”

Every step up is slow, but it feels like they’re scaling mountains. Asmo spends a week stitching together a simple blouse and skirt, and hopefully leaves it in her room overnight. The next day, IK wanders out into the common room and asks him to help her do up the buttons. On the same morning, she lets him brush her hair.

Every occasion is momentous; every stride without fear is victory. In these conditions, it’s very easy for certain demons to gain false confidence when overlooking these precipices.

Two facts: first, Asmo is an optimist with confidence to a fault. Second, he’s just as capable as certain demons of making poor decisions on impulse.

IK’s first shopping trip is a disaster. Several weeks of excellent progress with forays into the outside world culminate in one impatient customer in a department store. They barge past in the shoe aisle and brush a little too close, a little too quickly, and just as quickly find themselves - and the entire store - surrounded down by a forest of angry black tendrils.

Another fact: Asmo has little sympathy for those who bring ill fortune on themselves. By the time Lucifer and Satan arrive to salvage the situation, Asmo is still berating the pushy demon for starting this whole mess in the first place. To be fair, Lucifer doesn’t help much, as he immediately falls to scolding Asmo, which leaves Satan to attempt to talk things out with an irate manager.

IK is just about the only one who comes out of the situation happy - Charlie, while still wreaking havoc for everyone else, has gotten rather good at self-soothing its skittish host. While Satan loses patience with the manager and begins shouting louder than everyone else, and while that poor pushy demon attempts to get either Lucifer or Asmo’s attention, Charlie leads IK through to the kitchen appliances section and begins happily destroying the place.

It takes longer than everything else to track IK down and remove several sharp instruments from the various extra limbs Charlie has sprouted. They discover in the aftermath that Charlie has also learnt to shoplift, which means IK comes away with a figurine from the front desk that Satan’s too irritated with the shop owner to return.

The bills afterwards are eye-watering. It’s a good thing Diavolo finds the whole escapade so amusing, or else they might never have been able to show their faces in public again.

It’s quite some time before Asmo’s brave enough to try again. So long, in fact, that IK outpaces him - she goes grocery shopping with the twins, accompanies Levi to one of his quieter pop-up cosplay events, and spends a day at a petting zoo with the angels. That terrified little baby hiding under a table feels more and more like the distant past, but for some reason… he’s still cautious.

There are just too many wild cards, and not enough contingency plans for them all. Sure, it’s been a long time since seeing a stranger has been enough to send Charlie into crisis mode, but impatient shoppers manage to set new lows every day.

It’s not about the clean-up afterwards. However brief it is, that flash of terror on IK’s little face always manages to break his heart all over again. It’s worth as many finger-pricks as it takes to avoid that, even if he has to stitch every little outfit by hand.

Still! There’s a first time for everything, but there’s also a second chance at everything. Nearly three months after that cataclysmic first trip, Asmo decides it’s finally time to try again. Redeem himself, so to speak.

They’ll go around some quieter local stores, instead of big chain outlets like the one from last time. Solomon’s had success showing IK around second-hand witch shops and apothecaries, and he knows from Satan that she likes the old shoe-maker down the street from the cat cafe.

Clothes aren’t as much of a concern now that he’s gotten the hang of sewing, but there’s lots more to see. The issue is that IK makes it so difficult to tell what she actually thinks of anything - it doesn’t help that, in all her practising of her smiles, she’s also learnt the Polite Smile. (Asmo’s not sure from who, but he has his money on Simeon.)

“Darling,” He says worriedly when IK nods obediently to the seventh ribbon in a row. “You know you can tell me if you don’t like something.”

She thinks about this for a while, then announces, “I don’t like beetroot.”

“That’s di— I mean, beetroot’s good for you, darling.”

“It looks like chopped blood.”

He sighs. “...never mind. That doesn’t matter. I mean, you can tell me if you don’t want all this stuff.”

“Charlie likes ribbons,” IK says. “They’re fun to rip up.”

Maybe we need to get some dog toys for it. “And what about you, darling?”

IK looks a little lost. A moment passes without a response, and Asmo sighs.

“Alright,” He says after a moment. “We’ll get the ribbons for Charlie. But promise you’ll tell me if you see something you like, okay?”

“Okay,” says IK, still looking gently puzzled. But she seems happy enough when he pays for the ribbons at the counter.

…it’s easy to forget how many more steps there are to go. It wasn’t all that long ago that she was confounded by smiling - though this isn’t quite the same thing.

Charlie likes everything from clacky hair-clips to lollipops with a fizzy centre. IK doesn’t like scratchy jackets or heavy bracelets. It’s hard to tell who’s talking - where one ends and the other begins.

“But what do you like?” Asmo asks what feels like a hundred times, and each time she looks as if he’s asked her a stupid question.

“I like blankets,” She’ll say, and he’ll find a fluffy patchwork quilt. IK will run her hands over it inquisitively, then nod and say, “Charlie loves it.”

He asks again and again, and each time there’s a new answer. “I like riding on Beel’s shoulders.” “I like Simeon’s cakes.” “I like Mammon.”

And he asks again after they leave a haberdasher with several spools of brightly coloured thread. IK must be thoroughly sick of him by now, but she answers valiantly, “I like Momo.”

Momo is her toy panda. Asmo had bought it on his way home from some promotional event, and she’s loved it ever since. Momo is named after Asmo, because IK loves both of them.

Asmo pauses. IK is almost stumbling on her feet. They’ve been browsing for ages - he’s been so determined to find something IK loves, and not Charlie.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” He asks apologetically, and reaches down to carry her, swapping all his bags to one arm with ease. “We should go home.”

IK doesn’t seem to hear him. She answers his first question again, face scrunched as if working hard to remember, “I like Levi’s jellyfish. I like my room.”

“I know, I know…” For some reason, he feels like crying. “You’re tired, huh? Come here, come here…”

His arms are definitely going to complain tomorrow morning, but for now he can hold everything up without much thought. IK clings to him and continues listing, “I like tea parties. I like the Little Ds.”

“That’s enough, sweetheart,” He murmurs, turning onto the main road to start heading home. If anyone tries approaching him, he swears he’ll snap. “I know.”

IK finally goes quiet. She lays her head on his shoulder, inadvertently poking her little horn into his neck. It already feels like there’s something lodged in there, so it doesn’t make much difference.

“I like this,” She says after a moment. “I like you. And Charlie likes you. Okay?”

He pauses in the middle of the street and earns a few side-eyes from the demons around him.

“...okay,” He whispers. “That’s enough for me.”

[yuujispinkhair]

To the end (Chapter 4)

The end of the world as you knew it began with the virus spreading in your dorm. Six months later, you are once again on the run. By your side is Sukuna, the bad boy of your camp, the most unlikely companion you expected. But maybe this is exactly as it should be because sometimes hope comes in the form of a smug smirk and a tattooed pair of sword-yielding arms.

Chapter 1 ++ Chapter 2 ++ Chapter 3

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, horror, smut and some fluff Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: 18+, this chapter is rather tame, but the overall story contains violence, gore, angst, smut, cumshot, cum-eating, squirting, rough sex, zombies, fighting, knives, blood, mentions of several side characters' deaths, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal thoughts. This AU is based on The Walking Dead, so imagine a world like this. It's cruel and hopeless at times, but there is also a love story :) All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

A big part of your everyday life now is to explore the vicinity of your hut. Combing through the forest to look for traces of Yuuji and for everything that could be useful for your survival out here. Food, supplies, and weapons.

Today's excursion is a successful one. You and Sukuna stumble upon an abandoned construction truck, which from the looks of it, used to serve as a break room for former timbermen.

The lock is easy to break. Excitement washes over you as the metal chain rattles softly in your hands. Before you can pull open the door though, Sukuna's hand lands on your arm, and he pushes past you.

"Let me go in first."

"I can do that too, you know? I'm not completely helpless."

He huffs and grins at you over his tattoed shoulder, amusement sparkling in his maroon-colored eyes.

"Maybe I just want to get my hands on the best stuff in there. Too bad for you that you let me go first, huh, princess?"

You roll your eyes and put both hands on his broad back, shoving him playfully. Or trying to, because you can't move his muscular body even an inch.

"Shut up, and open the door. I am curious what's inside."

Two weeks ago, you wouldn't have dared to talk to him like this. Sukuna always seemed so intimidating in your old camp. He used to be someone you didn't want to get too close to. Funny how being stuck together in a small hut can change the way you feel about someone. And maybe sharing kisses with him and fucking like rabbits helped too.

The door swings open with a soft creaking sound. Sukuna's muscles tense under your hands as he lifts his hands with the knives in them, carefully checking the inside for any surprises in the form of undead souls.

"Clear."

You let out a breath of relief at his low voice that carries a triumphant tone in just that one word.

Your hands fall to your sides, and you slowly follow Sukuna into the truck.

Sukuna whistles appreciatively as he strolls into the narrow space, his hands buried casually in the pockets of his cargo pants.

"Nice! Guess those guys used to have a fun workday."

Your gaze follows his, and you chuckle.

A rather extensive collection of beer and coke cans line the metallic shelve that's installed at the wall. On the small table beneath it is a stack of cigarette packs and several bags of chips and cookies. The crown piece of the former lunch supply is, to your amusement, an almost full bottle of vodka.

You and Sukuna put all the stuff into your backpacks before you make your way back to the hut, sharing a package of chips and a can of coke on your way.

The few zombies you encounter on the way pose no challenge, and Sukuna slays them casually with one hand while taking a sip from his coke.

You huff at the cocky display of arrogance, but when his maroon gaze lands on you, he raises an eyebrow and tells you in a far too smug voice,

"Oh, don't gimme that look. I know you get wet from watching me fight."

Your heated attempt at denial gets silenced by Sukuna shoving the coke can into your face and a loud laugh coming from him.

Later that day, when the sun is starting to set, Sukuna rummages through the newly acquired supplies and pulls out the vodka bottle with a big smirk on his face.

"Hey, brat, wanna have a party at the end of the world?"

You can't help but snort, but the offer sounds too tempting to turn down.

You try to remember the last time you went to a real party. The memory is blurry, like most things that took place before the virus. It was another world back then. And somehow, you find it hard to relate to the person you had been back then.

She had spent hours getting ready for a party, excited and nervous because she might see her crush. She sang along loudly to her favorite songs and danced in front of the mirror without a care in the world. Her biggest worry was whether to wear a black or blue shirt.

That girl doesn't exist anymore. Only traces of her are left now that your world has been turned upside down.

A year ago, you went to a party with that nice and a bit nerdy guy from your English course who started to stammer when you just held his hand and who you could have brought home to meet your family at any time.

Now you lift your head to smile at a heavily tattoed guy with a vodka bottle in his hands who has a body count of at least three people and countless zombies. Literal body count, not sex-wise. Though, judging by the way he fucks you, he has a high body count in that department too.

The craziness of it all makes you laugh out loud, and you shrug,

"Oh, why not? Let's have a party."

The twinkle in Sukuna's eyes lets you know that you picked the right answer.

The two of you end up sitting next to each other on a blanket on the floor of the hut, leaning back against the wall, legs stretched out comfortably in front of you.

It feels homely, like an indoor picnic you might do on an evening with friends or a sleepover. A candle is flickering softly in a small glass jar, shedding a warm glow on the hut's interior. The blanket is filled with opened chips and cookie packages, a coke can for each of you, and in Sukuna's tattoed hand is the vodka bottle.

He lets his head fall back against the wall and takes a big gulp directly out of the bottle.

You watch his eyes close, long eyelashes fanning out over his high cheekbones when he drinks. Not for the first time, you catch yourself admiring his beauty. The angular shape of his jaw, the gracefully curved lips, the smooth tan skin. The black filigree lines of his tattoos don't taint that beauty but add to it. Framing his handsome face enticingly.

He is a work of art. A walking contradiction. Beauty and violence combined.

Sukuna's adam's apple bops when he swallows the drink, followed by a satisfied sigh that pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Damn, that's good! It's been too long! Here, have some too."

Sukuna hands the vodka to you, the corners of his lips lifted in that typical boyish smirk. Your fingers brush over his as you take the bottle from him.

The taste is rather vile. The vodka is too warm, and it must be a cheap one, tasting too strongly of alcohol. But it fills your stomach with comforting warmth, and your head gets cloudy with a soothing buzz almost instantly.

This is nice.

It's nice to sit here on the floor surrounded by snacks. It's nice to sip vodka and slowly get tipsy from it. To feel the tension leave your body. Almost as if the world isn't ending out there. 

It's nice to be here with Sukuna, sitting next to him, so close that you almost touch. You are suddenly filled with an intense feeling of gratefulness. You are glad that he is here by your side. That you aren't alone in this hell. And Sukuna proved to be a good zombie apocalypse partner. An excellent one.

You find yourself drifting closer to him until you are leaning against his side, and you can rest your head on his shoulder, snuggling comfortably against his muscular frame.

Your worries seem far away right now. It's like you and Sukuna exist in a bubble detached from the harsh reality. As if you are just two regular college students who went on a hiking trip or something in the woods. Two people who snuck away from their group to enjoy an intimate moment of bonding while getting drunk together on cheap vodka.

The alcohol makes you feel less tense. It lets you push the constant fear and worries into the back of your mind where they aren't as overwhelming anymore.

You're feeling warm, and your head is spinning in a good way. You find yourself giggling and laughing, joking around with Sukuna while the bottle of vodka passes from his hand to yours and back again. It looks like his grin gets broader with every sip he takes.

He is more relaxed, too, laughing and flirting even more with you than usual in his typical rude but charming way. It's lighthearted and funny. Playful banter like you would have at a normal party too.

You find yourself talking a lot more with him than ever before. Telling him stories about your former life. About your college courses, your dream career, and the funny things that happened in your dorm. About all the things that were your life before the virus put an end to all of that.

And Sukuna laughs and toasts to it and, to your surprise, shares his own stories about his former life. A life that is long gone and will never come back.

You lift your head from his shoulder to look at him as he talks. His maroon eyes glitter in the candlelight, looking so alive and warm in the golden glow of the candle. The grin on his handsome face is so genuine and open, like you have never seen him before, as he talks about college, his sports team, and the stupid stunts he pulled at parties.

The alcohol in your brain makes you more direct. Before you take the next sip of vodka, you blurt out,

"Why do you have all those tattoos? Especially the face tattoos. They are pretty extreme, you know."

You chuckle and reach out to run a finger over the black lines on his jaw, tracing them slowly with your fingertip.

Sukuna shrugs and smirks at you. His low voice sounds amused,

"Let me say this first: I was a difficult kid. As long as I can remember, I have always gotten into trouble. I'm just not good with authorities. I get angry when people try to tell me what to do or when they are stupid or...I don't know. I just get pissed off, and I do some dumb stuff."

You laugh loudly as you look up at him, nodding in agreement that you can imagine that all too well.

Sukuna grins back at you and runs a hand through his pink hair, smoothing it down before continuing his story of how he got his tattoos.

"The thing with the tattoos started when I was mad at my grandpa for something. I can't even remember what it was, but I left the house to go to some shady bar and get drunk. And there was this guy who did tattoos for the Yakuza. I decided the best way to piss off my grandpa would be to get tattoed. So I told that guy to take me to his shop and do it right away. He found it funny, I think. Took me to his place and did the face tattoos. Those were actually the first ones I got. I came back a few weeks later to get the ones on my body done."

You shake your head, eying him with a skeptical look.

"Those were some drastic measures just to piss your grandpa off."

Sukuna shrugs and huffs,

"Yeah, what can I say? I didn't care about the consequences at that moment. I just felt this need to show my grandpa that I am the only one who has a say when it comes to my life. Even if it meant showing him that I could always get worse. It was pretty stupid. I lost my job at the cinema snack stand because of those tattoos. And I think I was about to get suspended from college too. But I didn't care. It's not like I had a dream career or something like that. I would have probably ended up doing some illegal shit to get by. Well, in the long run, none of it mattered anyways. I guess the zombie apocalypse saved me from becoming a real Yakuza."

He laughs softly, but a shadow flickers over his face, and he averts his gaze, eyes fixed on the flickering flame of the candle when he continues softly,

"It was typical of me. I just couldn't fit into regular life. It wasn't for me. All those rules and obligations. I always wanted to break out of that, and I fought anyone who tried to make me bend to those rules. Maybe that's why I seem to handle the apocalypse so well. Maybe I was made for a world like this. For chaos and anarchy."

For a moment, silence settles between you. Sukuna's little tale started as a funny and dumb story but turned into something much more serious.

His words make something in your heart twist painfully. You catch yourself thinking that this boy with the smug smirk is far more broken when he wants anyone to know.

His past sounds like the re-telling of an accident that you know will happen but cannot prevent. Sukuna had been heading straight into his very personal apocalypse even before the virus outbreak. And Sukuna is smart. He knew that he was working towards his own ruin but was unable to stop it because he couldn't let go of his urge to rebel, to always stand proud, and never grovel before anyone.

His story is that of a lost cause. A troublemaker who would never fit society's standards. The type of guy who everyone would have warned you about and told you to stay away from so he wouldn't drag you down with him.

You remember that moment after Sukuna killed those two guys who had wanted to take your supplies. That moment when he had been worried you were scared of him. Half convinced that you would push him away. Because maybe that is what had happened all his life.

It makes you feel a strange kind of sympathy for him. As cocky and dangerous as Sukuna appears, the last weeks with him have shown you that there is more to him than his tough shell. He might be an asshole, but he is a rather nice asshole. His humor actually makes you laugh. You respect him for his many skills and his intelligence. And you know that without him, you wouldn't be alive at this point. Because Sukuna can actually be quite protective. It's kind of tragic that most people never got to see this side of him.

A heavy silence has settled between the two of you.

You aren't sure how to react. Reach out and put a hand on Sukuna's knee to show him you understand? Or elbow him and laugh about his wild past. Before you can decide what to do, Sukuna is the one who eases the tension. He smirks at you, eyeing you with a teasing glint in his eyes,

"Why did you want to know about my tattoos? Do you like them? They are sexy, aren't they?"

"Yeah...I mean...kind of?"

"I know you're into them. Ok, my turn. What are your favorite movies?"

You can't help but giggle at his reply, elbowing him and rolling your eyes. Still, your annoyance isn't real, and it's obvious when you snuggle back against Sukuna's side, getting comfortable again as you tell him about your favorite movies.

You spend hours like that, talking about the things you like. About movies, about your preferred coffee order, things that are far away and that you will probably never get back. And yet it feels nice to get filled with sweet nostalgia as you remember those things that used to bring you joy.

At some point, Sukuna's arm wraps around you, holding you closely against his side.

He feels comforting, a body full of strong muscles and reassuring warmth. His voice is low and soothing, tongue slightly heavy from all the vodka. It sounds good on him, though, sexy and smooth.

He tells you about his family. About his parents, who died young, long before the virus, back when Sukuna and Yuuji were only children.

And he tells you about his grandpa, who the twins grew up with.

The grumpy old man who taught them how to fight and who took them to bars and pachinkos at a much too young age but always tried to teach them to make friends and use their strength to help others. A man who did his best to raise his grandsons to become good people.

A man who, in Sukuna's opinion, failed because he only had one grandson who is a good guy: Yuuji. Sukuna's twin brother.

Sukuna's voice becomes a bit rough when he talks about him. Obviously worried about Yuuji, obviously missing him by his side.

The brother who is closer to Sukuna than anyone else.

The brother who built pillow forts with Sukuna when they were little and stayed in his bed the whole night because he had nightmares, and Sukuna told him he would protect him and chase all the monsters in Yuuji's dreams away.

The brother who is sunshine incarnate and so full of kindness and compassion.

"My brother is the most important person to me. Yuuji is...he is a good guy. Sometimes too good for this world. He is too selfless. I have to find him to make sure he doesn't play the hero. He is my little brother. I am responsible for him."

"You are twins, Sukuna. You are the same age."

"I am the older one! By a whole three minutes!"

He exclaims loudly in mock exasperation. Something you know he must have said so many times ever since he and Yuuji were little that it has become an automatic reply, a reflex. It makes you laugh fondly.

It's sweet somehow to see this side of Sukuna. To see beyond that arrogant and ruthless shell. He isn't just a zombie slayer or survival expert. He is also a brother, a grandson, and a friend. He has people he cares about and who care about him. And you seem to be one of them now.

The smirk on Sukuna's face is boyish, so attractive that you can't look away. He shakes his head slightly before continuing,

"But seriously, Yuuji always has my back. I mean, sure, he gets mad at me and tells me off for getting into trouble. He even punched me in the face one time. Gave me a nice black eye..."

He laughs at that, eyes focusing on a spot behind you, clearly seeing a memory flash before his inner eye. A memory that makes a smile play around his lips.

He is still smiling as he trails a hand down your arm, making you shiver at his soft touch, at the now familiar feeling of his skin on yours. His long fingers gently pry the bottle of vodka out of your grasp. He brings it to his lips, tilting his head back to take another gulp. The last one, you realize.

Sukuna sighs as he puts the empty bottle away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then he continues, picking up where he left off,

"Even though he doesn't approve of what I do, Yuuji has my back. He gets me out of shit. I would have been in a lot more trouble in the past if it weren't for him. He never gave up on me, no matter how much trouble I got into. That's the way Yuuji is. He gives second chances and wants to save everyone. That's a dangerous thing. Especially now. I hate not knowing where he is or what he's doing. I should be by his side and protect him, just like I promised him when we were little kids."

You can see a strange softness in Sukuna's eyes. He truly loves his brother. You can see that. It tugs at your heartstrings. Somehow seeing a tough guy like Sukuna talk so affectionately about someone hits you hard. A crass reminder that he isn't a heartless monster who goes through this world unbothered about what happens to others.

He has a heart, and he loves with that heart. Loves deeply with it from what it looks like.

Sukuna is worried about his little brother. He is worried and restless until he gets reunited with Yuuji again.

Before you know it, you reach out and place your hand on Sukuna's, giving it a reassuring squeeze before you intertwine your fingers with his.

"I hope we'll find your brother soon."

Thank you so much for reading!! I cried while writing the part about Sukuna's past. I am so weak for him!! I hope you enjoyed his little backstory and the party at the end of the world :) Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs make me happy!

Chapter 5

[queensilber]

Supernatural: Nevermore

Review time! I actually finished reading this a while ago and just didn't get around to posting the review, but here you go!

.

Summary:

Sam and Dean go to New York to help a friend of Ash with a ghost problem. Said friend is a rocker with a music collection that Dean totally freaks over (further down in this review I have a songlist of the mentioned music, too) and they get to stay at that guy's place while taking care of the problem. There is also a murder spree based on the works of Edgar Allen Poe going on in the area and the boys are solving two cases parallelly.

My experience:

I loved this. It was so fun, the vibe was great, i had a great time! This is actually the first book in the series and I should have read it before witchs canyon, but it doesnt matter too much.

Also, the book starts on a 12th of november, wich is my birthday, so thats cool.

Music list:

Okay, so, because of the plot with the Band, there is a LOT of music in this. I‘m now just and only gonna list the things Dean either has on tape or said that he loves it. Some are songs, some are Bands and some are albums, its listed chronologically after appearance rather than what it is… (sorry)

Deep purple „smoke on the water“

Metallica

Led Zeppelin "Whole lotta love"

Van Morrison "Caravan"

Jethro Tull "For a thousand Mothers"

"Cocaine"

"Ramblin' man"

"Rock on"

"Freebird"

Queensrÿche "Operation Mindcrime"

Dark side of the moon

the Animals

House of the holy

Dressed to Kill

The who "by Numbers"

"Thick as a brick"

"in-a-gadda-di-vida"

the Big Pink

Great so let's continue,

Quotes and Random Facts

"Then again, Sam sometimes thought he didn't have the same attachment to his late girlfriend Jessica that Dean had to the Impala"

"In fact, Sam's skills at lying - both in therms of pretending to be someone else and also misleading people as to the true nature of his life and of the world itself - had been one of the things that attracted him to the law" < in reference to why he studied law at Stanford.

"Squirming in the passenger seat, Sam thought, 'I swear to god, if he starts petting the Dashboard again, I'm walking to New York" < in reference to Dean and the impala

there is also a reference to Sherlock Holmes and my post-it to that was like "Superwholock?" so yea, do with that as you will.

Sam and Jess once went to San Fransisco and did all cute tourist stuff there.

"Cassie was a Subscriber" < Dean telling Sam why he know stuff about animal magazines. he is referring to Cassie Robinson.

"He loved his brother more than anything in the world" < Dean about Sam

Dean had nightmares about people burning on ceilings like his mom did and those people were: Mary, Jessica, Cassie, Sarah, Ellen, Jo and Sam.

"Sam (...), he'd drunk hot sulfur once, by accident during a job, and he wasn't eager to repeat the experience."

"'I assume you took so long 'cause you were hitting on the bartender' he grinned. 'He didn't strike me as your type.'" < Sam about Dean, referring to the male bartender. Deans answer: "Funny boy."

"Dean looked over at his brother. Now he had on his instant face. Dean hated the insistent face, because Sam only used it when he was arguing with him. As opposed to when he argued with Dad. That was always the angry face"

Sam likes Gin and Tonic. Dean is appalled by that.

"Sam looked at Dean. Without any sign or facial indication, Sam knew that his brother agreed they should check upstairs next"

Dean just takes random pictures of Sam sleeping

John actually signed all the paperwork Sam needed to go to Stanford for the first year and Sam got them to declare him independent for the next years. Dean is in absolute shock over that and so am I. that conversation is too long for me to put in all in here, but damn it made me cry.

"'my life is seriously screwed up', he thought with amusement" <Dean, obviously.

"When he was a kid, about eleven years old, he used to go looking for cars that had 'no Radio in car' signs on them. He'd take a removable radio, of a type that was very popular at the time, and throw it as hard as he could at the car window with a note wrapped around it that read 'Now you have one'" < I love Dean so much

Dean hates rubber gloves

"'I just love Mexican Standoffs,' Dean thought"

Sooo that's about all I got for you about this book, can highly recommend it, it was better than Witches canyon, even though I liked that one too very much.

I will link the next one, once I'm done with it!

<First , Next>

[delta-pavonis]

Last Line Tag Game x4

I have had FOUR people tag me in this game in the past few weeks but my life has been categorically WACKYDOODLES so I am just getting to this now. And SINCE it has been so long since I posted a single slim word, here is one blurble for each tag. @tj-dragonblade, @tryan-a-bex, @zzoomacroom, @moorishflower thank you for the tags!! In return I tag... anyone who is excited about A Thing and wants to share! I want to know what y'all are working on that you are excited about! ALL OF YOU!! BWAHAHA. From a still untitled Castlevania: Nocturne (blame @dancinbutterfly for pointing me towards Olrox fic) Olrox/Adrian WIP that is fanfic of the fanfic Until the Sun Rises Again by @ifishouldvanish:

He decides to deflect, smirking as he looks at Adrian through his lashes. “Are you asking me about vampires who I have taken as lovers? Bold move. Considering applying to join their ranks?” One golden eyebrow arches. Something flashes in those keen eyes as he lets the silence stretch. Olrox feels the temperature of the air change when Adrian makes a decision, a fraction of a second before he responds. “Apply? I thought I was already offered the position.” The surprise alone makes Olrox throw his head back and laugh, a burst of deep amusement the likes of which he has not felt in far, far too long. Adrian sits with a smirk clear in his eyes as Olrox lets his laughter peter off naturally. When he is done he tilts his head to the side, studying the beautiful, witty thing before him with simmering desire coursing through his veins.  Throwing caution to the wind, Olrox leans forward and grabs Adrian’s hand, brings the bone-white fingers towards his lips, and enjoys watching the dhampir’s pupils dilate. “That you were. And the offer stands for there are so many different positions you could fill.” Something dangerous glints in his eyes and then, with a twist of his wrist, Adrian is holding Olrox’s chin in his hand and pressing the nail of his thumb into the vampire’s bottom lip. He doesn't gasp, not quite, but he does freeze, entranced by this turn of events. “So you agree that I would be the one doing the filling, do you? Pity,” the nail, sharp as a razor, slides sideways and brings up the smallest drop of blood. “I had rather hoped there would be a struggle over it.” Olrox inhales sharply and stares. This is it. This is the fulcrum, the turning point. He can taste it.

Now three Dreamling WIPs... which I will put under a cut because not a single one of them isn't filthy, first two more than the last. CW for D/s relationships, edging, fisting (and mention of some extreme versions at that), charity auction for a date with a person, concerning lube choices, semi-public sex in the back of a car

From the next fic in the museum curator Dream/doctor and TikToker Hob series, currently titled Special Exhibition, where Hob ended up fisting Dream before Dream got up to ride him:

“Another night you’re gonna come like this, with half my arm buried in you,” Hob looks up and meets Dream’s heavy-lidded, lust-fogged gaze with his own. “But not tonight.” He pulls his hand out, slowly, with some extremely loud protest from Dream, but then grabs the lithe man by the waist and rolls them so he is laid out on his back with Dream straddling him. The leather chaps creak with the quick movements. “Now take what you need, my sweet Dream.” Dream growls greedily, teeth bared, as he maneuvers himself over Hob's hips. “Gladly. Though you may soon rethink the suitability of the adjective sweet.” He howls when he seats himself onto Hob's cock then immediately starts seeking his pleasure, riding Hob fast and hard, changing angles and rolling his hips until he finds the spot that forces all the air out of his lungs all at once with a deep groan. Dream repeats the motion, slamming himself down faster and harder on each pass until he is making one constant warbling noise. 

It’s hot and slick and not goddamned enough. Dream is busy using Hob’s cock to pound his prostate into oblivion, without a care for the fact that he is so deliciously open his hole isn't actually giving Hob much to work with at all. He is held hard by the ring around the base, but otherwise it is a maddeningly teasing glide of heat around him. Dream is hard and leaking and Hob watches as his spine arches and Dream… doesn't come. He has his long fingers wrapped tightly around his cock, squeezing out a noise of frustration. “Gonna edge myself on you, baby. Use you to drive myself to insanity. Only after I’ve had my fill am I going to take that ring off you. Maybe then I’ll be tight enough to provide stimulation for you.” Sweet Christ.

This is from bury me with my guns on, the WIP I have where Hob is former mafia doing a fishbowl rescue with his former lover (my OC Sandro). Dream is having post-fishbowl touching people issues and Sandro has the bright idea that Dream should instead tell Sandro what to do to Hob, to act through Sandro. They've just finished that scene and are playing with the idea of Dream calling Sandro "his tool":

“Anything you ask of me,” tumbles out of Sandro's mouth before he can think better of it. “I know every sexual fantasy of every human who has ever dreamt upon this Earth.” His eyes are heavy-lidded, smoldering. “There is a terrible variety of things I could ask of you.”  “Hob knows better than you my willingness to comply… to obey.” He can’t help but smirk. Dream’s expression darkens further. “You wish to be tested?” Sandro can tell that Hob is going to interrupt, so he speaks loudly and quickly. “You said you wanted to see what I am capable of, yes?” “Sandro, don’t–” “Then I will see you take Hob’s fist,” Dream practically purrs. “And then his arm. To the elbow.” Sandro is pretty sure he blacks out for a minute at the thought. When his awareness returns Hob is soothing him as if he is a scared animal. “Please, my bird, you don't have–” “I have never wanted anything more.” Hob's mouth snaps shut and he stares at Sandro. “Do it, my love. I would have you fuck me wider and deeper than I have ever been. Show Dream his naming me his tool is not misplaced.” He grinds in Hob's lap. “And perhaps, if I am Dream’s tool, I am his substitute, then if you do well enough with me, you will be allowed to do the same to Dream himself? One day?” Hob goes deathly still and just his eyes slide to Dream, who has gone even more lax in his corner of the couch.  “Hmm,” he runs a hand down his black T-shirt clad chest, down his abdomen, and it cuts the fabric as it goes, opening it like he pulled a zipper. “The fae folk call me the Shaper of Forms. It would be of little consequence for my body to accept both of Hob's arms up to his biceps if he wished it be so.” The cry that emerges from Hob is the sound of a man going insane.

Last is from a brand new WIP inspired by an ask that @gabessquishytum answered that my brain took in a totally different direction, including flipping who is on the auction block... for context Hob and Dream knew each other in college and Hob is now the increasingly popular host of Britain's Favourite Dancer, who is up for "auction" as a fundraiser. Dream bidding an obscene amount for him is the first time they have seen each other since Dream promised he would come back to Hob 15 years ago. They barely make it to Dream's car out back.

Dream is pulling Hob out of his suit with ruthless efficiency, clothing being flung all over. He’s down to his skivvies when Dream’s shirt is finally coming off and Hob cannot help but boggle even as he is wriggling out of his underpants. “Holy hell, when did you get all this, dove?” Hob’s got his boxer-briefs around one ankle and that will have to do because he refuses to take his hands away from all the dark chest hair that has just been revealed to him. Pale skin takes on a charming blush everywhere Hob touches. “I… used to wax. Thought you,” Dream groans and leans into Hob’s hands, “I thought you preferred it.” Hob stops his roaming hands and brings them very deliberately up to frame Dream’s angular face, forcing eye contact, which only makes the man above him blush more. “I should have been clearer then. I prefer you. It doesn’t matter what it is or how it looks: if it is you or yours, that is what I want.” Dream is kissing him in an instant, with a lack of finesse and hungry teeth, as he shucks off the rest of his clothing. “Then there's no question that you want to take my cock.” He says that as he settles between Hob's thighs, presses both their pricks together with one of his hands. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Hob arches into it, voice high-pitched and thready, eyes slamming closed. “But if you keep twisting your hand like that I’m gonna come before you get to the main event.” Fuck. Dream’s hand actually speeds up. “Good. I could use something other than spit to finger you open with.” Hob doesn't even try to contain the moan that image draws from him. “Then I am going to fuck you until you’re hard again. Might take a while. Maybe until the benefit auction lets out around us. Can you imagine that? You never were a quiet lover… you know that I can make you scream loud enough for passersby to hear. Think they would recognize your voice, hoarse with pleasure? I can see the headlines now, Beloved TV Host Out on Medical Leave–Railed to Within an Inch of His Life.” Hob would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't busy coming harder than he has in the past decade. 

[anukulee]

Period Comforts

Requested By; Hold My Tesseract.

A/N: This is my first time trying a period type of comfort, so please bare with me 

Tap, tap, ratted Loki's fist against the door, only to recieve no answer, Loki allowed his eyes to gaze his surroundings ensuring that he was in the right place, before once again allowing his fist to knock against the door. Once again there was no answer, with no sound of her angelic voice entering through his ears. While some upon getting no response might've left, Loki Friggason (formally Odinson and Laufeyson), was far from what the Midgardians deemed as normal. The words were already on the tip of his tongue, for he knew excatly what he must do. "Rest assured one way or another you shall open this door, so we can either do this the easy or the hard way. Now pick your choice." Thus rather then teleporting like most other magical beings would've done in his place, instead with a quick glow of his seidr, he materialized two daggers, ready to stab the door if need be, for if anyone was in there aside from her, they would get the message whether that be through his words or through his actions. 

Click, Loki heard the door unlock, daggers still ready in his arms, until upon the door opening he saw her. Slowly Loki lowered the daggers down allowing them to vanish in a puff of green seidr. "Are you coming in or not," she asked, her tone lacking all of her usual amusement. Rather then question it, Loki slowly stepped into their shared apartment, giving it a good once over to ensure that he still had the right apartment. 

Thump, was the next that Loki heard, upon looking into it, he was faced with his darling now lazily spread across the couch, with a tub of ice cream sitting abandoned on the table. That's odd, rarely does she abandon such a sweet treat, he thought as he allowed his eyes to drift around the table to see if he might be able to find some more clues, that may answer his darling's particular mood. 

Before Loki could even look into it, he heard a sharp groan, along with a certain cuss word slip from her lips. Words that Loki wasn't used to hearing from his angel's lips, for while she did cuss, she usually kept it the tammer words of those Midgardian cuss words. Yet upon hearing a word that Loki only really heard when she was deep in her pleasure did Loki know something was wrong. As Loki opened his mouth to speak without putting thought into it, something that while would be fine on any other day wasn't fine for this day nor this week in particular. "Darling," he uttered, inching every so closely to the couch.

At this he recieved a glare from his darling, eyes boring into his, almost as if she was starring daggers into him. "What," she muttered, her voice full of grumpiness, and a bitter tone.

"Is everything alright?"

All Loki heard at first was a deep exhale escaping her lips, as the tips of her fingertips rubbed against her forehead. "Life."

"Life," Loki asked, very much confused of what she might mean in regards to life. 

"What else?"

"And what does that mean excatly," Loki asked, his voice treading ever so careful given the tension that was clearly filling the air. 

"It means I am on my period."

"Your period?"

"Yes, and I hate my life," Loki's darling said, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. 

Despite other maybe taking this as a sign to back away, Loki instead went closer to what one would call the lion's den, slowly wrapping his arm's around her. "And this period is the reason for it?" His voice far softer then one might expect from him.

"Yes," she muttered, as she seemed to embrace it going so far as to nuzzle her head into the crook of his neck, allowing her to embrace in the warmth before she spoke.

"I see, and may I ask what excatly this period might be?"

Slowly did Loki's darling head rise, her frustration, now going to the side, as she gazed at the clear confused look on her godly boyfriend. "You don't know what a period is?"

"No, should I?"

Rather then being frustrated or irritated as one might think at being asked this question, instead Loki's darling seemed more at ease. After all how would one expect Loki to know? As Loki's darling voice seemed to lower, now calmer, as a laugh soon escaped her lips. A laugh that Loki usually loved at least when it wasn't at him. "hm ha ha hm."

"What is it?" Confusion still continued to cloud Loki's face, as he watched his darling continue to laugh. 

"I never thought I would hear you ask that?"

"And why is that?"

"It's just generally men aren't particularly interested in our womanly troubles."

"And why is that? For on Asgard we worship those we choose as lovers as the goddesses, for they are the one who provide us children, who carry on our names on their back."

"Sadly we Midgardians aren't like that."

"And why not?"

"Back in the olden days, periods were a thing of shame, woman forced to hide their troubles, so as not to be seen proper. Sometimes it was a sign that a woman could produce heirs, or she was reaching womanhood."

"I see, so what exactly does this period entail?"

"Basically woman bleed from their vagina, every month due to the lack of fertilized egg in our system."

"The egg is what produces children right?"

"Looks like someone studied up."

"While I may not be as knowledgeable in Midgardian sides, I am not as lacking as others."

"Loki, be nice."

"I never said it was him."

"You didn't have to."

"Fine, so you bleed every month?"

"Unless we are pregnant, during that time our periods will stop, this way our the linging that sheds during periods remain in."

"So this means you stop bleeding?"

"In simple terms yes."

"I see, so what I might do to help?"

"You want to help?"

"If you are in pain, why shouldn't I be of use?"

"Oh."

"Oh, have your mere excuse of a Midgardian men, not done this?"

"Yes," Loki's darling responded as with this, she allowed her head to nodd, the moment that Loki saw this, his fist slowly curled ready to punch something. Yet with one touch of her hand on his, slowly Loki's fist began to uncurl.

"Clearly they are more lacking then I thought. Seeing as you provide us with so much, are our pillars, and our better halves you should be worshipped."

"What would you build a shrine for me," Loki's darling teased, her hands folding against her chest in a teasing manner.

"Perhaps," Loki hinted, as slowly he allowed his arms to wrap around her waist. 

"Aren't I a lucky one?"

"Yes, now what is it that you wish for me to do?"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Why wouldn't I be," Loki asked, as another confused look crossed against his face.

"Who knows what I might ask."

"How bad could it be?"

"Don't you know about craving?" At this Loki's darling began to move her arms in a siggly motion, despite Loki's arms still wrapped around her.

"Is that not something one gets during pregnancy?"

"Yes, and during periods."

"And what might these craving entail."

"Who knows, it could be normal or it could be as abnormal as pickles and mayo."

"I see, well whatever it might be, I shall get it for you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Even when I am moaning about cramps?"

"Cramps, like muscle contraction?"

"Yes."

"Well then I shall be here to assist in whatever way I can."

"Truly?"

"I did swear my loyality did I not?"

"Yes, but..."

"Nothing you shall ask of me will be out of question, for while your other partner's might not been as supportive, I will do anything for you."

"Truly?"

"You doubt my word?"

"No, it's just..."

"Not this again," Loki said going so far as to allow his finger tip to be placed on her lips. "As I have said I will do anything for you, even if it means burning the world for you."

"Overdramtic much," Loki's darling asked once Loki took his finger off her lip.

"You know love me."

"Always."

"Now I shall ask again what is it you require?"

"I suppose I could use," Loki's darling started as bit by bit she named what she might need. Just as promised Loki provided it all, never faltering on his word. Bit by bit leaning more about the Midgardian woman's time of the month, yet with this the two grew ever close in their comforts of one another. Comforts that would continue throughout time and time again, for no matter what happened the two always found their comforts in one another, no matter what time of the month it was. For as long as they found comfort in each other that is all that mattered, at least it did to them.

[animeyanderelover]

Can I request Daiki, Satori, Kuroo, Rouge, Urie, and Hitsuguya with an s/o who realizes that they are dating a yandere and decides to talk it out with them and at the end says as long as you do not kidnap me, hurt me, do not hurt my friends and family, and do not withhold cuddles. This is fine.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsession, possessive behavior, stalking, delusion, clinginess, manipulation, overprotective behavior, threats

This is fine

Kuki Urie

🖤He's not exactly flying under the radar with his particularly intense behavior, especially his jealousy, his protective and possessive side. Urie puts his darling above everyone and everything else, they are the only good thing left in this world for him. When you one day ask him to sit down with you, he has automatically a bad feeling. The words "we need to talk" are never a good sign in a relationship, his body language instantly grows tense yet he does as his s/o tells him and sits down. He's quiet at first although his jaw is clenched. Once you start to tell him that you've realized that his behavior shows quite obsessed signs, including his sometimes controlling streak and not even to mention his jealousy. He's quite adament to protest, Urie has pretty much deluded himself into thinking that all is done for your safety. He despises the direction this talk is going to.

🖤​That is until you add to the beginning certain conditions you'd want him to follow and as long as he does, you're completely fine with his overbearing behavior. He shuts his trap for a while after and just gives you a indecipherable look before indignation flares up inside of him. As glad as he is that you didn't want to break up with him, he doesn't like the fact that you just put him in an archetype of the typical crazy Yandere. He likes to think that he is above something like that, he'd never hurt someone close to you and he'd rather die than hurt you. Obviously he denies it, he's delusional so of course he sees nothing as wrong. Just in case, Kuki keeps a closer eye on you the following days though, a bit paranoid that you might try to fool him. He doesn't try to cool his attitude down either, he stays the same.

Tetsurō Kuroo

⚫​Kuroo can keep himself quite well under restrictions regarding his obsession, so much more because he is aware and feels partially guilty for it. You'd have to be a pretty good observer or catch him in one of his darker moments to get the idea that something is going on with him. Obviously he's worried when you ask him if you two can have a talk but he tries to remain relaxed as good as he can in the beginning. He's shocked when you admit that you've realized that he's a bit too obsessed with you though, you can see it on his face that turns for a short moment blank. Kuroo pretty much expects you to want to break up with him now, from a logical point he can understand it. He tries to brainstorm ideas though how to talk himself out of this situation. He's unable to let his sweetheart leave him just like that, is a bit scared what he might do then.

⚫​He's even more shocked when you suddenly explain rules to him and that you'd like to stay as a couple as long as he follows them. Do you seriously try to make a deal with him right now in regards of his obsession? He's a bit amused, amazed and concerned about this. The lack of worries you have despite knowing the truth is a bit strange, he probably can't help but ask you if you're serious. When you nod, he can't help but laugh a bit awkwardly out of a lack of another response. Now that you know it anyways, he probably even opens up a bit more. Sure, he tries to tiptoe his way around certain topics but is at the very least honest when he tells you that he'll never hurt those you cherish or you. He's unsure and most likely observes you for a while after to see if you truly meant it. He reverts back to acting as normal as he can when with you though.

Satori Tendou

❤️​He knows that he tends to be more creepy as it is so he is heavily insecure around you during the first few weeks in a relationship, tries to tone his clinginess and intimidating behavior when he's jealous or threatens someone down. Tendou has a severe fear of being left by you due to his overall strange tendencies so his heart drops for a short moment when you suddenly want to talk with him about something important. He's awkward and uncomfortable from the very beginning and once you dive into your observations, he wants to shrink away. He just assumes naturally that you want to leave him now since you think that he's creepy. Feels more and more ashamed of himself the longer you tell him what you've seen and deduced, he even starts to feel like crying a bit although he tries to push his tears back.

❤️​The moment you make him the offer though, his head snaps back up and he just looks at you half-confused and half-hopeful. By the end he is weirdly happy and relieved and feels a bit ashamed for feeling this way. He shouldn't feel glad that you still love him and are fine but he can't help it. Tendou feels even weirdly flattered to know that you still love him despite his overall creppy and stalkerish behavior. He's still skittish and insecure, most likely more clingy just to be completely sure. Once Tendou has the intuition that you really meant what you said, he grows even more doting and sweet. His love multiplies somehow even more with the knowledge that you actually accept him as he is. He grows more secure and confident and it shows in his increasing affection he shows you. He doesn't have to hide his love anymore.

Daiki Aomine

💙​Daiki is intense, he's not only highly protective but also very possessive, tends to be more vicious when someone messes with his s/o. He doesn't want to intimidate his darling though, acts very sweet when towards them although very touchy and affectionate. Whilst he is aware, he doesn't really care much about his behavior. He only wants you and keep you safe after all. He already has a conflicted look on his face when his s/o suddenly insists that they want to talk with him and the conflict only grows once you start talking about his intense behavior. Honestly, Aomine knew that there was a risk of being caught since he has troubles regulating his short and aggressive temper. He panics a bit since he absolutely can't allow you to leave him but his mind goes sort of blank when he tries to come up with an excuse. He knows it'll be hard to deny your words.

💙​He's just very happy and glad when you actually admit that you're fine with his antics as long as he doesn't hurt you or your close friends and family. The tension just sort of leaves him and he reacts pretty relaxed after that. Aomine won't really worry that you're fine, just agrees with your offer even if he is more vehement to insist that he'd never lay a finger on you. Aomine grows more loving and affectionate to his darling after their confession as well, adores them only more for their acceptance. Momoi is likely to find out and is the only part concerned about Aomine's obsession and your indifference towards it but can't do anything since she wants both of you to be happy. He's never been one to hide this side of his really so he won't really try to be less intense either.

Rogue Cheney

🌑​Rogue is especially careful about how he acts when he's with his darling precisely because he is all too lucid about his obsession. He's quite calm so he manages good even if he sometimes ends up being more manipulative when his protective side is triggered. He's a bit more introverted and shy in the relationship but still tries to make his darling as happy as possible. He keeps a neutral expression on his face the moment you want to sit down and have a word with him about something. He doesn't want to think about the worst case scenario instantly but when you start talking about his peculiar behavior that you've noticed, he starts panicking on the inside. It is the worst case scenario and he's shocked how much you've noticed, goes a bit pale and feels highly ashamed of you knowing so much. Blames himself for not being more careful too.

🌑​Rogue tries to figure out something as fast as possible, is left dumbfounded though when you start making suggestions for him. He did not expect you to react so...lax about the whole ordeal of him being your stalker. He's concered, literally has a small talk with you after where he ends up asking you why you react so serene about this discovery. He refuses to feel completely happy even if he can't suppress his slight relief but is more conflicted the following days. Still unable to wrap his head around your chilled reaction, Rogue is a bit more warily than usual. He doesn't have to say anything against your rules since those are principles he wants to go by anyways but he doesn't know how to act with you now. You're quick to notice that and often have to reassure him. Despite still lingering guilt, he starts feeling more comfortable after a while though.

Hitsugaya Toshiro

❄️​Toshiro is a mature person so he definitely knows about his unhealthy obsession regarding his s/o and it leads him to inner conflicts at times. He doesn't want to slip up anywhere even if he is more protective and more strict at times with his s/o but otherwise he manages to fly under the radar well enough. Stops doing whatever he was doing at the moment when his darling asks him for some time since they have something important to talk about. Your serious expression alarms him but he takes some time, even if he is doing some work at the moment. The look on his face is even more serious than the one of his s/o and his eyebrows only furrow more when you start talking about his sometimes more controlling behavior. He's somewhat disappointed that you still noticed despite his best efforts to hide it, plots at the same time how to proceed now.

❄️​Hitsugaya is perplexed the moment you start making offers to him, your previously serious expression melting away whilst he can only raise an eyebrow with a ever so slightly flabbergasted expression. He didn't expect you to be so laid-back about the topic, definitely asks if you've really fully grasped the situation regarding his obsession. Honestly, he's more confused than anything right now about your peculiar accepting behavior. The moment you actually admit to him that you still love him a lot, he tries his best to hide his flustered state. He shouldn't feel happy about this right now yet he still does. You both come to the same terms in the end even if this unexpected twist bothers him for a while after. There is this uncertainty that stays for a while with him, he's torn part between being relieved and a bit weirded out by your acceptance.

[simply-un-well]

first fic after lurking for literally forever, with my two little ocs !! also, my requests are open if people have any :)

-

Jason grumbled from where he was walking next to Blake. Out of every single person on the team, he was partnered with him. The coaches must hate him or something.

It's their annual team trip to the amusement park. Normally would have been a great time with his friends and everyone, but then he had to get stuck with the most stuck-up person on the team; Blake.

"I don't see why we can't just split up," Jason mutters. His posture is slumped, arms tucked into the pockets of his pants.

Blake sighs in response to the third time in the last five minutes those words have been uttered by Jason's mouth. "Again, we were told to stick by one teammate in case of an emergency."

There's silence for the next few moments before Jason sighs, loud and dramatic. Blake's mouth twitches like he's trying to hold back a snarky comment before an uncomfortable silence spreads between the two of them.

People are screaming and chattering in the background as the two of them walk in complete silence.

"Sooo…" Jason starts, unable to stand the awkward tension, "Do you want to ride anything?" He's pointedly not looking at Blake, trying to spare himself the awkwardness.

"No." It's blunt and straight to the point.

"Why not? I bet you're scared," Jason scoffs. "A coward who can't even go on a rollercoaster." It's an obvious bait, but even then…

"The fuck? No, I'm not." Blake's striking glare is trained on him. Jason's got his full attention now.

Pleased with his reaction, he smirks. "No, you're scared. Why would you not want to go on a ride then? Huh? It's cause you're a scaredy cat, isn't it?"

Blake's face pulls back into a slight scowl. "If anything you're scared. I could probably ride twice as many rides as you."

Pulling away to face him, Jason crosses his arms. Blue eyes staring at Blake, he grins. It's nothing like his normal happy-go-lucky smile. Closer to the one they get when they're competing against each other during practice. "That sounds like a challenge to me."

There's a brief stare-off before Blake dips his head into a nod. "Fine, how many roller coasters can we both ride until we have to leave or one of us quits."

They both stand there, frowning at each other before rushing off towards the closest coaster. It's a small one, with minimal twists and turns, a basic start. The line is thankfully short, so they both end up running through it quickly.

From there they do rollercoaster after rollercoaster, working their way through the park. They have three more left, putting them off due to the cue.

Blake's stomach started feeling off around the sixth rollercoaster they went on, but there was no way he was going to let Jason know about it. He'd make it into an absolute joke. Given that they've been going at each other's throats since high school and it's only escalated since they both ended up in the same University.

His stomach gives an unhappy twist and he ducks his head to the side, swallowing. Hopefully, Jason didn't notice that odd movement, he doesn't need more ammo to tease him with.

Subtlety, Blake awkwardly wraps his arm around his stomach as it churns. For someone who's never been to an amusement park before or rode on any rollercoasters, in hindsight, he probably should have been more careful. While he's never gotten motion sick in a vehicle before, there's a stark difference between a car and a coaster that flips you upside down.

As if to curse his luck, Jason looks at him oddly. "You know, it's not too late for you to drop out? No shame in having me win this competition."

Gritting his teeth, Blake scowls even more. "No."

"Fine. I gave you a chance." Jason shrugs, looking smug with himself. Blake wants to throttle him.

Unfortunately, or rather fortunately in Jason’s case, he doesn't get a chance to do so when the next cart comes in, and the ride attendant beckons for them to take a seat in the cart.

Gulping nervously, Blake follows Jason into the cart. The bars slide down over their laps, pressing uncomfortably down on his stomach. He almost…almost regrets not taking the out that was given to him. This ride is supposedly the most intense in the park. Full of flips and sharp turns. None of which will help not upset his stomach ever further.

Jason looks over at him, presumably to say something snarky about their little competition and how he's going to win. Opening his mouth, he pauses, taking into account Blake's paling face. "Actually, are you okay?" There's no maliciousness in his voice for once.

There's no time for Blake to respond before the cart starts moving up, the metal tracks clicking as the chain pulls them closer to the drop. His face is stark white, eyes wide open. His stomach gives an unhappy whine, twisting and turning at the sight.

A brief shake of the head no is all he can give before Blake jerks with an empty gag. Hand clasped on his mouth, Jason's eyes go wide in response. It's far too late for them to get off the ride.

"Oh, okay okay, breathe. Try to keep it down until the ride is over." His words are frantic, but a small part of Blake's mind that's not occupied with the fact that he's about to vomit registers the actual concern in his voice. Although that may be for not wanting vomit on his clothes.

There's a brief pause at the top of the coaster before the sudden drop. Almost immediately Blake's stomach shoots into his throat. Burning hot bile traveling further and further up. He whimpers involuntarily, closing his eyes as he keeps his hand firmly clamped over his mouth. Unable to think of anything else besides the steady mantra of 'don't throw up don't throw up don't throw up.'

The ride takes them through several sharp turns, two loop-de-loops —one of which he had to choke back down a mouthful of sick— before stopping suddenly. A five-second pause before pulling back into the boarding area.

Blake's full-on trembling by now from the strain of not throwing up in public on a rollercoaster. Now that the ride has stopped, he can feel Jason awkwardly trying to rub his back. "Okay okay, that's good. Just breathe," he murmurs out quietly.

The seat bar finally comes up, relieving some of the pressure on Blake's stomach. The ride attendants look wary at the nauseated expression on his face. Somehow, he manages to stumble out of the cart with Jason's assistance, eyes still firmly shut as he tries to not get sick. The world feels like it's spinning below his feet.

He manages to get tugged halfway down to the entrance of the ride before he jerks suddenly, mouth flooding with sick. Trying to swallow it back down, before eventually relenting and tugging on Jason's shirt.

Jason looks at him before exhaling sharply. "Hang on, hang on. We're almost to a trash can." Tugging Blake along more urgently they manage to make it down to the entrance.

Shoving Blake forward into a trashcan, his hands hit the sides. Blinking his eyes open, he opens his mouth allowing for the first wave to pour from his mouth. It's liquidy and chunky, splattering over the trash people threw out. The combined smell of sick and trach is absolutely rancid.

Shoulders hitching up towards his ears, Blake lurches forward gagging. Another wave comes up, slightly more chunky. The ground feels like it's spinning beneath his feet.

"Okay, woah, you're okay," Jason murmurs as Blake nearly pitches forward into the trash can. He has a grounding hand resting on his back.

There's a pause where Blake just stands there, head hanging over the trash can. He's acutely aware of the people in the park and just how many people probably just saw this happen.

"You done?" Jason asks, rubbing his back lightly.

Instead of a verbal response, Blake retches, bringing up a final wave of chunky sick. Spitting into the trash can, he pushes back away from it and the smell so it doesn't trigger another round of heaving. "Done," he announces quietly.

Jason nods. "C'mon, let's head back to the bus." There's a pause before he smirks cockily. "Guess I won that competition, huh?"

There's a tired grimace on Blake's face at the reminder of their little challenge. "Oh fuck you."